More Business of Being Born

Ricki Lake has been super busy (and awesome) lately. Her follow up documentary, "More Business of Being Born" is premiering Wednesday November 9th in LA. If you have never heard of "The Business of Being Born," check it out and then immediately get your hands on the follow up.

Nearly Wordless Wednesday

This is my favorite belly picture from my first pregnancy. It was taken when I was about 8.5 months pregnant. 

This is my favorite picture from my second pregnancy. It was taken at my baby shower, on December 19, 2010. I was also 8.5 months pregnant here.

Finally!! The Birth of My Son

It was December of 2004; the frost had finally come to this tiny Florida town, and along with it, came my greatest accomplishment, my only son Zayne Alexander. The first of three miracles I would have the pleasure of creating. I was 23 when I found out I was pregnant. It was not the traditional, get married, and have a baby scenario.  We were only dating and although we had known each other almost our entire lives; he bailed the moment I told him I was pregnant. Well, really, a week later, after he had decided that he was not ready to have a baby.  Therefore, I was twenty-three, single and pregnant.

I think the best word to describe, how I felt about the pending birth would be scared. Questions flooded my mind. How could I care for a little human, be solely responsible for another life? What if something was wrong with my baby? What if, What if, What if? Up to that point in my life, I was an adult but without any real responsibilities. I did what I wanted, when I wanted and I did not have anyone to tell me otherwise. The fear was real. I read everything I could get my hands on, everything about labor, breastfeeding, circumcision, parenting; I could not get enough.  Still, nothing I read would be able to prepare me totally for, my first birth experience.

I had chosen to see the local midwives for my pre-natal care; they were the best option for low-income families that the area had to offer. The midwives worked the local hospital and were always on call. Their compassion and care was top-notch in my book. I was very aware of all the options that were available for the birth of my baby. I chose what I believed to be the best options for me. I know that not all people, (my best friend included) agree with my decisions; but we do agree every woman has the right to make her own informed choices about her birth. I was comfortable with the idea that I was at the hospital, with procedures, and doctors, and medicine.

My estimated due date was December 12. I was so excited when it came and so depressed when it passed. I was hoping that I would not be one of the many women who pass their due date, unfortunately for me, I was. Those last couple of weeks, felt like years. Being single and pregnant is not the way pregnancy was designed; it was the longest nine months of my life. I spent the time reading about birth and watching divorce court on TV. Not the healthiest combination, I know!

I had been to the hospital one time with Braxton hicks contractions after my estimated due date, it was discouraging. What would labor feel like? How would I know I was really in labor? I did not want to go back to the hospital, only to be told it was just a practice run, again. The days continued and the fluids around the baby started to lessen. When I went to the hospital for a late-due date ultrasound, they said they would induce me and sent me to labor and delivery in the hospital. I was excited, nervous, and scared out of my mind all at the same time.

When I went to labor and delivery, the floor was very full. (It was a full moon.) They had women in different parts of the hospital who were already laboring. Therefore, they sent me home and said, come back tomorrow and we will induce you. I was more than ready for next day, but I waiting anxiously. At four o’clock in the afternoon, I happily returned with high hopes of delivering my baby that day. I was so scared, but ready; ready to finally see this little person that I had been so painstakingly making in my own little baby makin’ machine.  (Which my son would one day, refer to my stomach as.)

They started me on Pitocin almost immediately, and oh boy, did it start my labor.  The contractions had a small incline in intensity, for a short period of time they were mild. Period cramps would be a comparable sensation. Then they got serious, quickly. The word contraction, means to contract and that makes sense, but until you experience a contraction; you just do not know the depth of the meaning of contract. The contractions had been very intense for about an hour before they informed me that I was only, 4 centimeters. I went to the hospital knowing that I wanted an epidural and they did not want to give me one until I was a little farther along, in fear that it might slow my labor, which it did, and I was glad I was prepared for that. Before the epidural, during strong contractions, I would try everything; sitting up, laying down, on all fours…..nothing seemed to help. I begged my mom, the nurses, anyone who came into my room, please get my epidural. Time continued on without pain medication, when some random labor and delivery nurse, not my midwives, barged into my room. The monitor had slipped from the round of my belly during a contraction, so the nurse, whom did not introduce herself, started to walk toward me. I was in the middle of a contraction and trying to sit up and see if that was a tolerable position. When the random, nameless, nurse came in my room and started toward my belly; I suddenly developed a bout of circumstantial turrets.  I told that nurse that if she touched me I would punch her in the face. I think that is when they finally decided that it was time to give me the pain relief!

My mother had accompanied me to the hospital and one of my best friends was my other birth partner, I called her after I had settled into the hospital around 6 pm; she was on a mystery dinner theater train, four hours away. She arrived just after my epidural. (Lucky for her!) I was in rare form and my poor mother got the worst of it. It was 12 at night before I received my epidural and the next nine hours seemed to drag on, and on. I could not sleep, although I was exhausted. My mother and friend took turns sleeping on the couch and taking breaks out of the room.

When the day light started to creep in through the blinds, there was a refreshed feeling in the room. We had made it through the night without incident. As time ticked on, I almost forgot that we were there to have a baby, which I had to push out. Another friend of mine came to the hospital, there was a two people limit in your labor and delivery room, but this friend worked at the hospital, so she was just stopping by for a short while. My mother and my two friends decided to go and get some breakfast from the cafeteria. I lay in bed wondering what was going to happen and when was it going to happen. When the pressure started to surpass the pain threshold the epidural had so wonderfully enforced. I felt like I really had to take a number two. Being that I was alone and stuck in bed, they brought me a bedpan. I just could not do it. The idea of just lying in bed and taking a poop was impossible to get pass. The nurses had changed shifts and the new nurse said she thought it was time to check me. While my support team was gone, she did; and what do you know, it was time to push. I was alone, with a new nurse and suddenly I was more scared than I had ever been in my life.

As they started to summons the midwife, and get all of their supplies handy, my mother and friends returned. Thank You God! My mom was holding one leg and my best friend holding the other, and my bonus friend holding my hair back I pushed with all of my might, for an hour straight. It was very slow going. Out a little, all the way back in. This continued for an hour and fifteen  minutes, when the midwife told me, with a certain strong tone. Stacie, you have to get this baby out right now, you have to push as hard as you can. At that time, I thought that she was just coaching me. I did what she said. I pushed with all of my might. When my son finally made it out, my best friend started to cry. At first, I thought they were happy tears. She started to repeat, “Do you hear him crying?” When I finally started to notice that, I did not hear my baby crying. “I don’t hear him, I don’t hear him!” I frantically screamed as I realized she was not crying happy tears.

When my son was born, he was not breathing, he was gray, and the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck twice. They whisked him away, behind a curtain in my room and started baby CPR. After what seemed like hours but was only a couple of moments, I heard my baby start to make noises. Not crying… but noises. I wanted nothing more than to hold my baby, make sure that he was okay and nurse him, but they had to take him away, immediately. They would not even let me hold him one time. I cried. I was happy. I was sad. I was still very scared. I had just endured the most life transforming event of my life and felt empty for the next four hours while they observed him in the nursery. I sent my mother to take his picture so that I could see him while we were apart those first few hours. However, when he was returned to me, he was perfect in every way. I did it. I made another human being. I did it, and now I know that I can do anything. 

My Full Moon Baby

My first daughter was born on July 21, 2005. In November of 2004 I found out I was pregnant. I was 24 years old. At the time, my birth philosophy was ‘oh my goodness, what is going to happen’. I chose nurse midwives, but did not really know what midwives were, or what my birth options were. I think that I made a lucky choice. At my first appointment, I met one of the midwives and spent 45 minutes discussing a variety of topics. I felt instantly better about what I was getting into, but still ignorant about what was going to happen. After my first appointments passed and I still did not have questions, my midwives gave me some homework: Go home and come up with three questions or concerns. I was a little taken aback by the assignment. But I felt as though I should at least put that much effort into things. Well, that opened a can of worms that has not be contained to this day. I realized many of my fears about childbirth stemmed from not wanting to be injured. I did not want an episiotomy, I did not feel comfortable with a needle in my spine, and I was not comfortable with the idea of not being able to move around freely. I will never forget the look on my midwife’s face when I came to my next appointment and declared that I would be having a natural birth in the birth center. From that day, forward my entire focus was on my health and reading everything I could get my hands on about natural childbirth.

I went into labor around 3 am on Wednesday July 20. I awoke feeling ill. I was convinced that I had a “stomach ache” for a solid hour, but then realized that the pain was coming in a pattern and I started to cry. I spent the next few hours trying to relax through contractions .They were coming every 15 minutes but not lasting longer than 30 seconds.  Around 7 am, I woke my mother and told her I felt like I was in labor. We called my midwives and they told me to go about my day, eat, drink, and rest. The stressed that this was early labor and that it could still be quite some time.  I called my labor team and tried to sleep.  My sister arrived and tried to help me relax and nap. I was very uncomfortable all day, but was in a great mood. I was more anxious than I thought I would be, but the fear of the unknown is a powerful force in first time mothers. My best friend (who happens to be my partner in this blog and project:) arrived in the evening and we hung out laughing and talking, with little breaks for me to ride the contractions out. As the night wore on, I laughed a little less and paused a little more. Around 10 pm, we called the midwives and arranged to meet up at the birth center, since my contractions were now about a minute long and 5 minutes apart. The center was about 45 minutes away, and we rode there in silence watching the full moon. There was a lot of nervous energy in that car, but I felt surrounded by love.

We arrived at the birth center around 11:30 pm. My midwife wanted to check me. I was really hoping to be almost finished since I had been awake for so long at this point. I was 4 cms and about 50% effaced, not as far as I had hoped. I remember feeling sad, but also knowing that I could handle it. My midwife rested and so did my birth team. And before you think they were jerks for sleeping while I was in labor, my wish was to be in silence and for everyone to relax. I tried to sleep, but could not get comfortable laying down. I tried walking, but did not like the sensations I felt. After a couple of hours of trying to find a way to deal with the contractions, we started to fill the birth tub. I was checked again before getting in the tub, was six, and almost completely effaced. We made the decision to rupture my amniotic sac in hopes of speeding labor along (a choice I would not make again!) I sank into the pool and I loved the water. I was able to lose myself in the contractions. We listened to a rainstorm CD and I felt as though I was floating in the middle of the ocean. I found a pattern of movement and was able to stay ahead of the contractions very well. I labored in the water until 4 am and it was actually the most enjoyable part of my labor.

Around 4:30 am, my midwife wanted to assess my progress and I got out of the tub. This is where things got a little crazy, or a lot crazy. The water was my only relief and not being in it was torture. I was fully dilated, but the baby was posterior and her head had started to mold into my pelvis. My midwife wanted me to walk around, but I was not listening and was starting to panic from the intensity of the pain. I decided very quickly that I wanted pain relief and everyone started getting everything together to move over to the hospital. As I got into the car, I felt a strange, heavy sensation and became very shaky. The emergency room was right across the street and we were there in moments. I could barely walk through the ER. They got me a wheelchair and I was crying and shaking. As I got up to the room, the nurses were trying to put an IV in and get the monitor around my stomach. A nurse checked me and told me I was ready to push. I was in no way mentally ready to push! I heaved as though I was going to throw up and the nurses grabbed a trashcan. A moment later, my midwife came in and one of the sweetest nurses I have ever met came up beside me and told me I could do it. I calmed down and my mom, sister, and best friend came in. They told me to push when I felt the urge and as the next contraction hit I bore down with a strength that astounded me. I screamed, I cried, I babbled incoherently. My midwife told me to slow down and it was all I could do to not just push, and push, and push. By the third contraction and push, I felt the most intense burning sensation, followed by the strange sensation of my daughter crowing. I pushed again, her head came out, and before I could push one more time, she was born at 5:37 am. They put her up to my chest and I looked at her stunned. I think she was somewhat shocked too. I was instantly in love. She was perfect, but you could see where her little head had molded. I was so amazed that it was finally over after 27 hours of labor. She was my little girl, all 6 lbs 12 oz and 17 ¾ inches of her.

I look back on her birth with many fond memories. Initially I was disappointed with myself for freaking out, but now I realize that I just did what worked for me at the time. Other than being in the birth center, the birth of my daughter was beautiful and peaceful. I will never forget the midwives that were there for me. Their insistence on me educating myself and making my own choices was something that changed me as a woman and a mother forever.

First, A Little About Us

Hello, my name is Katy. I am a stay at home mother of two sweet little girls, ages 8 months and 6 years. I have been obsessed with all things pregnancy and childbirth related since my first pregnancy. I had my oldest daughter med-free in a hospital after laboring in a birth center. My second daughter was born at home this past February. I have dabbled in doula work, but ultimately feel my calling is childbirth education. It combines my two favorite things, birth information and talking!!

And my name is Stacie. I am a mother of four beautiful children, ranging in age from 15 years to 9 months old. I have had hospital births and am a vocal supporter of women having the freedom to choose the birth that works for them! Those close to me tend to describe me as outgoing, funny and creative. I  always have my hand in several pots and love to pursue as many projects as humanly possible.

Together, we came up with the idea, "Diary of a Mother: Birth" as a way to get your story out there. Coming from vastly different birth philosophies, we have always found a common thread in our love of birth stories. We are in the process of collecting birth stories for a book we hope to release before the end of 2011!!

If you would like to be a part of this project feel free to send us your birth story or stories. We ask that you edit out any personal information, but do share as much detail as possible. Things to consider when submitting your story: location of birth (state, country, etc.), your birth philosophy, your choice of care provider, where you gave birth (hospital, birth center, home, etc.), and any classes you took in preparation. We will contact you for permission to use your story before sharing it on this blog or using it for our book. If you have any questions feel free to email us!!

Last, but not least, we are running a contest to get this project off the ground. Details to follow...