The Difference a Birth Makes

It happened -- my home birth. It was everything and nothing I expected. My Mom had just left the house, and I started feeling some abdominal discomfort. When it continued with some regularity I started timing the sensation: five minutes apart, sometimes seven or ten. Dad and I went to bed. After an hour of laying there awaiting sleep, I rose and walked around the house.  For the next four hours, I spent time sitting, squatting, standing and sleeping in the bathroom. For as uncomfortable as I felt, each contraction -- as I decided they had become -- did exactly as it was supposed to do. It was a wave of pain. A beginning and end. A pause in between. Temporary, purposeful, and part of the process.

Around four o'clock, my water broke. Right there. There it was, a clear puddle on the floor. My first thought was, This is really going to happen. Right here. Then: Thank you. That feels so much better. Then, shit. This is going to happen, very soon. Call the midwife. Wake up Dad. Without even timing it, I instinctively knew that Hootwo was going to be on the scene quickly. I could feel that he was closer to the exit. It was exciting.

The ladies arrived, one by one. The dogs barked at each arrival so I could tell from upstairs that the support was growing and I was relieved to host them. They provided such encouragement and practical help. I loved these ladies already, but the feeling of unity as women for one goal, as other women were doing in that moment all over the globe, as they have in my lineage and in history, was so present. In retrospect, I needed my midwife, doula and labour support more than I realized; benefited so much from their expertise, care, and mostly, their presence.

5:14 a.m. I pushed for the second or third time and you answered without hesitation. Evelyn caught you, and after a brief moment of staring at you, heard Andrea say: Danielle, take your baby! I was stunned and needed that prompt.  I think I pulled you through my legs, and we sat down on a birth stool. Cue skin to skin. I remember realizing you were still tethered (like you should be), and Dad cut the cord. It took you a few minutes to transition. I think it you were as surprised how quickly you arrived as I was. You nursed, we sat, placenta expelled, move to the bed.

You're here!

Ah, bed. Cozy. Fresh sheets. Dad's snuggled in, too. The ladies are busy. I'm focused on you, and I realize I'm tired. You nurse again. Amma and Afi arrive, and they're so excited to meet you. Hootoo wakes up and meets his little brother, welcomes him with a soft hug. Baby! Baby! Yes, your baby, too.

During the night, I was visited only once by the thought, Can I do this? I don't know if I can do this. I took a deep breath, said some mantras out loud, envisioned sleeping in my bed with my new, healthy baby ... and the thought never came back. After I sent that doubt to rest, the whole experience was an adventure. HONEST.

It was everything I expected because of what I knew from the benefits of home birth. It was nothing I expected because I expected moments of feeling overwhelmed, anxious, stuck. I did not expect the reality of it actually happening in the privacy and comfort of my home. From previous experience, it was hard to picture. I didn't expect to experience this degree of empowerment. I feel blessed that I was able to have this experience. I understand how it's not appropriate for every mother and baby, but it was perfect for us.

One week later: you've surpassed your birth weight. You breastfeed like a champ. (Unquenchable thirst!) You love to snuggle upright on our chests. Your facial expressions are hilarious. You've made great memories with Amma, Afi, Uncle Gucky, Aunt Ashleigh, Adam, Annie, Gram, and your adoring brother.

Welcome, Hootwo.

Thank you so much to my amazing husband, and these wonderful women.

xo
New Mama

Letters to Hootoo - Back in the Grind

I don't even know where to begin, so much has happened since your birthday post.

Let's start with you. You are quick, in body and mind: you motor when you walk, pull yourself up on chairs or on ledges that I initially think are impossible for you to champion. You have a wealth of vocabulary in sign language and spoken word. You seem to understand more of what Dad and I are asking of you, whether it be a silly question, or a warning of an undesirable behaviour. 

You go to school most weekdays and you LOVE it. You've made some great friends and are learning a ton. Your Dad and I value education, and although it's another expense, it is so worth it.

You're starting to morph into an independent little man. It's a trip, and a great lesson for Mama learning what not to sweat, and when to discipline. You blow kisses, give high-fives, can tell me what sounds farm animals make, sleep through the night, snuggle and still love Elmo, Amma and Maggie.

Life for Mama has changed, too. Child, I am so glad that you love to nap so I could enjoy a few daily moments to refuel. Things have been wild: completing my final, most difficult semester (emotionally and cognitively) of nursing school. Graduating. Studying, then passing the National Council Licensure Examination for Registered Nurses. Landing two amazing jobs at the local hospital.

My body is changing, too. I'm so excited to see you share your life with a younger sibling. You're going to be an awesome big brother. Hootwo is going to rock our world.

xo
Yo Mama