The Birth of Miriam

On December 9th we attended a beautiful Advent devotion at the Bishop's cathedral. Grandma Valerie had flown in several days before and we tried to fill the days with distractions as we all awaited your arrival. We sat at the cathedral and listened to a choir that sounded like angels sing the old Psalms and heard scriptures read about Christ's coming. That evening, almost all seemed right in the world.

After returning home from the Advent devotion, I couldn't fall asleep. It was after midnight and was now December 10th. I was uncomfortable and tossed and turned. I decided to get up and use the restroom for the hundredth time and felt warm fluid drip down my leg. I knew my bag of waters was leaking. The time was 1:30am I woke up your father who immediately jumped out of bed (rare for him) and started putting things together. With my last two births happening very quickly, we knew we had to move fast if we were going to make it to the hospital. I had one real contraction and Max insisted on calling our doula and doctor. I hesitated, thinking that it was crazy to call anyone after just ONE contraction. He had no intention of listening to me, made two phone calls and told me we were going. Through the next three contractions I quickly put on some mascara, threw a few last items in my bag and complained about how crazy it was to be leaving so early. Max shuffled me to the car and we were on our way.

I rode most of the way with my eyes closed, breathing through contractions which were getting more and more intense. What I did see was several stop signs passed by and a few red lights passed. Max knew more than I did how quickly we needed to get there. When we finally arrived I asked Max to please let me wait for our doula to arrive before we went in. With the next two contractions, I started to make pushing noises and we both knew we needed to start walking, without our doula, or this baby was going to be born in the car.

Once inside, I made a beeline for the bathroom. In my primal state, I wanted to be in a tiny room where no one could see me. Looking back, and Emergency Room bathroom probably wasn't the cleanest place to choose. I waited there until Max told me a wheelchair was ready for me. Generally, I would have rather walked to the labor and delivery unit, but I knew that if I attempted that walk I wouldn't make it to the 5th floor with a baby still inside me. I was wheeled up to labor and delivery while Max made small talk with the tech pushing me. This annoyed me to no end, but Max is always polite and amiable, no matter what situation we are in.

We arrived at triage and I breathed through another contraction leaning up against the wall. I thought back to the sign on my mirror at home with a quote by St. Rose de Lima, "Pain is never permanent" and found strength and comfort in that truth. A nurse asked me to lay in the bed and get strapped up to monitors. I told her there was no physical way I could possibly lay in a bed. She didn't like this very much and told me for the sake of my baby's health we needed to check on her. I asked where my doctor was and heard her say behind me, "I'm right here." Relief flooded me. She told the nurses I needed to be checked right away as I had precipitous labors. At this point my doula arrived. Again, relief flooded me. I was asked to get on the bed to be checked and instinctively got on the bed on my hands and knees. I thought in my mind, "Whatever needs to be done has to be done like this because I am not moving!" With the next contraction I could feel baby Miriam coming down. Dr. L. checked me and said I was complete and ready to push, which I already knew. With the next contraction I pushed while placing my hand where I could feel Miriam coming. As her head emerged, I was able to feel every inch of it and control my pushing. With one more contraction, at 2:41am, her tiny body slipped from mine and she was lifted to my chest. She was pink and tiny and beautiful. Everyone in the room was shocked at the short length of the labor; 70 minutes from the first contraction to a baby in hand.

Miriam, you are a joy to behold and sweetness incarnate. I wake every day excited to snuggle you and behold the ways in which you will grow. I love you sweet baby girl.

The Birth of Baby Jules

Disclaimer: This is a birth story with all the details. If birth grosses you out, you should probably not read any further.

It was 10:00pm on Thursday February 7th, and Max and I had just finished an episode of Downton Abbey. I had been having some strong braxton-hicks that day, but they were the kind that I thought would surely go away when I went to bed, as they had every other night in the past. I told Max I wanted to go to bed, and as we got ready I started to have some more serious, painful contractions. Max finally caught on and asked, "Are you in labor?" I replied, "Maybe. But probably not. Let's just try and sleep and I'll wake you if I need you."

I laid in bed till about 10:45 before I finally decided these contractions weren't going away and I needed to get up and walk and eat. I got up and went to the kitchen to eat (I was really hungry) and paused and moaned through each contraction. A few minutes later Max heard me moving the couch back in place (we move our couch to our computer to watch movies, it bugged me that it was out of place), and came to check on me. I told him that I was really in labor but he should try and go back to sleep in case we were in for the long haul.

It was around midnight that Max decided we should call our midwife. He told her I was definitely in labor, but that she could wait to come as contractions had only started two hours ago. Meanwhile, my water had broken and contractions were coming stronger. I was thinking to myself how intense the contractions were and how, "maybe I'm just more of a weanie this time than I was with Miss Belle." All this time, Max is trying frantically to set up the birth pool. After breaking our bathroom sink I finally told him that I just wanted him near me and to forget about the pool.

In between each contraction I prayed to Our Lady of Happy Delivery and asked Jesus to be with us. I asked that above all the baby would be safe. In my heart, I knew everything was ok and this was the safest way to deliver the baby. This is a great grace God gave me during labor, because looking back I really could have had a lot of fear about the unknown position of our baby. I also feel it was a great grace that I didn't know she was a footling breech, as I think I may have been more anxious about delivering our baby in this very uncommon position. As I continued to labor in our bathroom, I started to have the urge to push. I told Max that he needed to call our midwife NOW! I tried my hardest to breath through these contractions without pushing, until I couldn't any longer. All the research I had done about breech births said hands and knees was the best way to push and that breech babies should not be touched during delivery. If you touch their little bottoms, it startles them, causing them to throw their arms up thus making it more difficult for the head to come. I knew I should get on my hands and knees, but it was also what my body instinctively told me to do. As the next contraction came I tried my hardest not to push, but just couldn't. I was asking Max the whole time, "Where is our midwife?" thinking I could just hold this baby in till she got there. I told him I was scared and he assured me it would be ok. I was not scared of delivering the baby, I was scared I wouldn't be able to stop pushing until the midwife arrived.

I finally gave into the reality that I couldn't not push and told Max the baby is coming. He was on the phone with my midwife and got behind me to see what was going on. Apparently at this point one of Baby Jules' foot was already out, although I had no idea. With the next two contractions I pushed her to the point where her little butt and legs were hanging from my body but her head and arms were still inside. I told Max not to touch her and he promised he wouldn't. I was so anxious to have her out at this point that I tried to push with no contraction and yelled, "she isn't coming!" As she was hanging there, I could feel her moving her little head and arms still inside me. This is the number one weirdest thing I have ever felt in my life. From the research I had done, I knew that this was common for breech babies. They do a little sit up type action to position their head correctly for birth. A truly amazing instinct! Once I finally realized that the reason she "wasn't coming" was because I wasn't having a contraction, I was able to take a few deep breaths and wait for the next one. As the next contraction started, I pushed with all my might, and out came our little girl into her father's hands.

I told Max to give her to me, and we immediately started rubbing her back and talking to her (she didn't cry right away, but when I looked down at her wide eyes, I knew she was ok). Within seconds she was breathing fine and making those tiny newborn cries. Max hung up with the midwife and we sat there in awe for a few minutes staring at her beauty. After a minute or so, I checked to see what we had and was pretty shocked to see that it was a girl! I think we checked three different times to make sure. So there we were, just the three of us and God, sitting on our bathroom floor admiring the new life that was in our arms.

Our midwife showed up about ten minutes later and found everyone to be perfectly healthy.

Through The Fire

This is the birth story of my third child and beautiful daughter. The story really begins far before her birth and I feel that it is important and an intricate part of it. I want to write it down to remember the spiritual journey of this pregnancy and to remember the abundant graces given to my family and me during this time.

This pregnancy tested me to limits I had never been brought to before. First with physical suffering, then with mental. I have already described some of the pelvic issues I had during pregnancy that almost made me lose my ability to walk. I cried out to God in desperation asking him why he would want a mother of two very active children to go through this. I was brought to my knees and to tears daily at having to depend on my husband and those around me for almost everything. And then answers came, through a small book that no one even knows exist. Through weeks of exercise I was nearly pain free and I knew it was nothing short of a miracle that I thanked God every day for.

Fast forward to 32 weeks into the pregnancy. I went to my midwife appointment and what I knew all along was confirmed. The baby was breech. For some this seems to be no big deal, but for me it was. Peanut was also breech and he never turned head down before they took him by c-section at 38 weeks. The memory of that experience came flashing into my head daily as I knew the routine way for breech babies to be delivered these days is by c-section. For those of you who may read this and don't know me very well, a c-section is not a small deal to me and I really only think they are necessary if the mother's or baby's life is in true danger.

For 6 weeks I spent much of the day trying to get the baby to turn head down. I hung upside down on my head, took homeopathic remedies, went swimming and did a headstand in the pool, spent an outrageous amount of money on chiropractic care and acupuncture and still the baby would not turn. Through the weeks I researched constantly about breech birth and finally made the decision that I wouldn't go in for a c-section unless something was wrong with me or the baby (that is what hospitals are for, after all). Before I continue, I think I should note that this decision wasn't made lightly. Every day I questioned it and felt Satan tempting me with doubt. I prayed constantly for peace and fought for it every day. Every time the baby moved I wondered if she was turning, only to find out that I could still feel her little head up in my ribs. I cried out to God telling him that this was His child and His birth and if a c-section was necessary I would do it. But I told Him that my children needed their mother and that was a lot harder to be after a major surgery.

This constant daily mental agony was filled with moments of peace only to be shattered again by thoughts of what could go wrong. I prayed novena after novena and cried out to God asking Him why he didn't just turn her!  I am certain the only thing that kept me sane was the constant prayers I knew so so many people were praying for me. Often times when I was at the end of my ropes I heard God whisper in my heart, "I will take care of you". I didn't know at the time what that exactly meant, but I trusted in it.

On one particularly hard day, I thought that looking through my ultrasound pictures might bring me some comfort. Somehow, through the midst of suffering, I sometimes forgot that an actual baby comes at the end of all of this, and needed a small reminder of who was kicking around inside me. But that day, I wasn't even granted that comfort. I could not find the pictures anywhere. A few days later my sister invited me to adoration and I took her up on the offer. I grabbed a random book from my end table and set off for a much needed holy hour. That evening before the blessed Sacrament I told God that I laid it all on his altar. That I knew this wasn't the end of the hard days but whatever happened belonged to Him and I would trust Him for answers. That until I felt my instincts and His urgings tell me otherwise, I would continue forward with the plans for a breech vaginal delivery. As I sat down after my prayer and opened my book to read, I found my sweet ultrasound pictures laying within the pages. I couldn't help but cry at the physical sign that God had given me letting me know that everything would be ok.

Fast forward to 38 weeks pregnancy. As I was driving Peanut to pre-school I was pondering all that had happened during this pregnancy. I knew I would see my midwife that evening and was a bit nervous and relieved. I also knew it was the last day of a novena a dear friend had been saying for me to St. Giana. My friend had promised that the baby would either turn that day, or that I would be at peace about everything (she also said the angels told her she was praying for a baby girl but I didn't believe her). And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I pray often to be a Godly woman. I say all the time, "Lord, mold me into the woman you want me to be. Purify my soul. Transform my heart. Help me be patient. Teach me to love." I pray all these things, and while I truly mean them, it didn't register till that day that through all of this suffering God was purifying my soul. He was answering my prayers. Did I really forget that often times we have to be purified through fire? Did I think it would be easy? Marriage and motherhood are my vocation and God will sanctify my soul through them if I let Him work. I felt great peace the rest of the day. Even when my midwife told me the baby was still breech. And that brings us to the evening of Thursday February 7. Stayed tuned for part 2.

The Birth of Ms. Belle From the Eyes of Our Doula

Below is an account of our sweet daughter's birth written by our doula, who supported us through many hours of contractions and after birth. I will post more on all of the events of the day later, but for now this should give you an idea of how things went.

It was April 15^th and you were 39 weeks and 5 days pregnant. This birth would be a planned VBAC. You called me around 3:00am to let me know contractions had started an hour earlier. You decide to try and go back to sleep for a bit. Dad calls me at 6:17am to let me know that contractions are 5 minutes apart and he says that you are focusing through them; I assure you I will be at your home shortly. I arrive at your home at about 7:00am. I come in the house to see you rocking in the rocking chair; your face looks peacefully radiant as you close your eyes during contractions. I sit down at your side and massage your feet as we welcome a few contractions together and we discuss how wonderfully you are doing. They are about 2-4 minutes apart when I arrive. We prepare to go to the hospital and you make your son’s breakfast in the kitchen, pausing during a contraction to lean on Dad or the counter while you rock your hips back and forth, instinctually. You feed your son at about 8:30am after which he comes up to you and hugs your leg and smiles. The love in this moment was magical. Dad went to drop your son off at the sitter and you make final preparations to leave for the hospital.

We arrive at the hospital at about 10:00am.  You are 6cm, 90% effaced with a bulging bag. In triage, you stand against the wall or Dad for contractions, you say “Tell me about her…” and Dad goes on to tell you how beautiful and amazing your little girl is going to be. In that moment, I see you close your eyes as if you are imaging your daughter’s beauty and you gather the strength to continue.

Once admitted to the birth suite we dim the lights, turn on soothing music and you and Dad get in the tub, where he uses the shower head to stream warm water on your back and belly. I remind you to stay “loose and limp” as you take deep cleansing breaths during contractions. The water was cooling quickly, so the nurse and I ran basins of warm water from the sink in your room into your tub. Dad was sitting behind you in the shower and you found comfort by leaning in his lap between contractions. Dad was always reminding you how incredible you were with each contraction, even telling you “You’ll never have that same contraction again, just take them one at a time.”

In the bathroom the lights are off and the only light is that of the flicker of my flameless candle, it creates a mellow orange hue to the room. I notice your cesarean incision under the water, and I am reminded of your incredible strength. Your uterus so strong, your body…beautifully designed to do this.

You ask Dad to say a prayer and he prays for strength for you and baby Annabelle. You decide to get out of the tub and sit on the toilet for a while, we cover you with blankets and you notice a change of intensity in your contractions along with bloody show, I remind you that it means you are showing signs of cervical change! You try a few other positions in the room, eventually getting back into the tub. At 12:58pm you are feeling “pushy” and a bit nauseous so you are checked to be 8cm, 100% effaced with just a bit of an anterior lip. The nurse tells you its okay to bear down a bit with your urges. You moan lowly, grunting with the sensations. You mention that you are tired but you stay motivated and focused.

We breathe together, “Big deep breaths….here we go…. in... and out….and again, in... and out…”

At about 2:00pm you mention more pressure and you find yourself pushing more with each contraction. Your midwife comes in and checks you to be fully dilated with your water intact. She leaves the room for a minute only to return to find you squatting while holding on to the shower head on the wall while pushing. This is when your water must have ruptured, because the next time you were checked your water was gone. You get out of the tub and into the bed, pushing with your own urges, no coaching, and no counting, just you….breathing and pushing.

With Dad at your bedside, you reach down and touch your baby’s head as it slowly emerges from you. You even help pull your baby up and on to your chest as she is born at 2:21pm. Dad cried tears of joy and you rejoice “We did it!” Annabelle only cries once, pinks up in a heartbeat and literally crawls to your breast and latches perfectly. A breathe taking moment! After you spent an hour bonding and breastfeeding, Dad held baby Annabelle skin to skin for the first time...

Birth Matters: Part III

Part III: The Desire for a Natural Childbirth


***Post disclaimer: I have never been through natural labor and have no idea what it feels like. I have never felt a contraction or any labor pains. Many people will think these views will change once I have been through labor, and perhaps you are correct. But until then, these are my thoughts and feelings towards birth. Also, I am very aware that these are my own personal beliefs; I have no judgements towards those who do not hold these beliefs, or towards women who choose to have pain medication during labor.

1. Desire for a natural birth: Ever since I found out I was pregnant with my son, I desired to have a natural labor, and the same holds true in this pregnancy. I have thought long and hard about why I want such a thing, mostly because people always ask why I would want to do it. To be honest, I really have no answer to their question except to say it's just something I really want to do. I want to know that I at least tried to work with my body and the way God created it, and this is why I must go into birth with the attitude that it will happen naturally. Other pluses that make me want to have a natural labor: the natural adrenaline release that I have heard only comes to a woman who has not been medicated, keeping control over my body during labor, trust in my body and the way it works, and, of course, the desire for as little intervention and chance of a c-section as possible.

2. Women have done it for thousands of years: My husband always used to tell me this and it made me angry. I wanted to tell him, "oh yeah, well then you try it!" But after a lot of thought I came to think of this as another reason to at least attempt natural childbirth. When did birth become a medical procedure and not a natural event? We trust women's bodies for nine months to grow a human being from two cells. We trust her body to give this baby everything he/she needs, but when it is time to deliver, the doctors step in and say, "good job growing a baby, we will take over from here." (Again please keep in mind I am talking about normal, healthy pregnancies). Oh! And God forbid you don't dilate 1 cm/hour! That must mean something is terribly wrong with you and need Pitocin. Please excuse the sarcasm, but needless interventions that can lead to more women having c-sections really do bother me.  I also find it kind of ironic that most women's labor will slow down or stop progressing after being given an epidural. When this happens, in comes the Pitocin. Basically what I am saying is that it seems that one intervention to the natural process leads to another and I would like to try to avoid all of that if possible.

3. Parallel between Christ's sufferings and labor: Ok, so some of you are going to think I am off my rocker with this one, but this is the way my mind works and the way I try and think about a lot of the things in life. As stated in this post, I think motherhood and pregnancy is pretty special because of our unique vocation to physically sacrifice our bodies. I don't think this analogy stops in childbirth. Christ walked the most torturous, painful path known to man on His way to Calvary. His body was beaten, swollen, fatigued and at some point He asked for the suffering to be taken away. But He endured it, because it was the will of the Father. At Calvary He was hung naked from a cross, shamed and humiliated. What relief must have come when He stated, "It is finished." And what lies at the end of Christ's suffering? New, beautiful, glorious life for all of us sinners. It is my thought that I am once again called to walk with Christ to calvary during childbirth. I am sure it will be the most painful and altogether hard experience in my life. But at the end, when I can state, "It is finished" new life lies in my arms. And I don't even have to wait three days to experience this new life, I get to hold her in my arms and kiss her sweet face as soon as the worst of the suffering is over.

Birth Matters: Part II

Part II: The Trauma of a C-Section

My son did not get an easy transition into the world. He did not get to feel my uterus wrap around his tiny body and make his way down the birth canal. In the only place he ever knew as "home", as safe, he was suddenly and forcefully pulled from my womb into a cold, bright room. With no hormonal releases from his body or mine to say, "this is it, let labor begin" he came out like a white cold turkey not knowing he needed to breath. The first hands to touch him were not mine, and the first voice he heard was not a familiar one. The first people who saw him, who touched and caressed him were not that of his mother or father. The first thing he felt in this world was not my warm chest, but the hard sterile warming table. The first eyes he gazed into were not the loving hazel eyes of his mother, but that of a nurse who viewed him as nothing more than another patient. My joy, my life and my vocation viewed and held as just another baby in the first seconds of his life. This was his introduction to the world. 

And me...I was left numb to it all. I was brought into the hospital crying instead of full of excitement. I never felt a contraction or the intense pain that comes with childbirth. I had no active part whatsoever in my own child's birth. I was left to lay on the operating table and ask a thousand times, "is he out yet?". I was left shaking from head to toe from the drugs and felt completely out of control of my own body. I had to manuveur my head in every direction I could just to get the slightest peak, the slightest glance of my child! I had to listen to every word said around me, just so I knew he was alright. And worst of all, after NINE months of waiting, I had to wait to hold him in my arms and kiss his tiny face. 

Looking Towards the Exam Table at Our Son

Finally Getting to Hold Him

Many people may think that I have over thought this event, or that I am making too big of a deal out of a simple c-section. Trust me, I have asked myself this many times. But the truth is, this is the way I feel about what happened that day. I did not write this post so that you will feel sorry for me or to try and over dramatize my experience. But I will say this: over 1/3 of all babies will be born via c-section, often times elected by the mother herself (on a side note, I am not at all against c-sections as a whole. If they are medically necessary, then by all means do a c-section. But I don't think that all c-sections done today are "medically necessary"). I believe very firmly that the way a child is brought into the world does matter. I  believe in letting things happen naturally so as not the impede the awesome bonding experience between a mother and her baby. This is a hard view to hold in a society that views birth as a medical procedure instead of a natural event...but perhaps I can explain myself a little better.  

Part III to Follow 

Birth Matters: Part I

Part I: A Brief History 
I have been thinking about this post since I started this blog, but have not really had the courage to write it. I feel I need to before I have a second birth experience with my daughter, and Lord knows that could happen any day now. Plus, this three part series will probably explain a lot of my feelings and thoughts towards my daughters birth story, whatever it shall be, and whenever I post it. So here it goes.

As mentioned in some of my previous posts, I had an emergency c-section with my son. I won't go into the long story of the events leading up to the c-section, I'll just give a brief history. My husband and I prepared tirelessly for a natural childbirth. We took a 12 week childbirth course, read books, and even hired a doula to assist us during labor. We researched and prepared for any routine interventions that we didn't want happening at our birth and felt very well prepared to try our best to bring a baby into this world as comfortably (for the baby) and naturally as possible. I spent countless hours imagining what it would be like to go into labor, to feel my newborn baby placed on my chest and the immediate joy and relief that must come once the baby is out. At 36 weeks I found out that our son was breech, but I did not give up my goal of having a vaginal labor. I did everything in the books to get that kid to turn head down, including standing on my own head. I spent hours and weeks laying upside down on our couch (apparently this works for some people), putting ice on my belly and playing music on my lower abdomen trying to get my son to turn head down.

Fast forward to 38 weeks into pregnancy. I had been having routine ultrasounds done because our son was measuring very small and was still breech. At our 38 week ultrasound we were told by a doctor, whom I had only met that day, that we needed to go to the hospital that night for a c-section. And in the blink of an eye it was all taken away. And I was crushed. After that moment, things happened so quickly I never really had time to grasp or accept what was going on. The peculiar thing was that I was not scared for the health of my baby. In my heart, I knew my son was just fine. I just didn't know if the decision the doctor made so quickly that afternoon was fine. It has taken me a long time to come to terms with the events that took place on the day of my son's birth, and I have finally accepted that a c-section was probably the best route to take. But there are a few things that I feel will always disturb me about having a c-section.

More to come...