Hazelanne's Birthday Story

In the previous edition of this story, I had only included in the timeline so I get it out and on "paper" for my memory.  I know too well that memory of birth is fleeting and I reallllllly wanna remember this one.  So with the help my handy dandy timeline, here is my birth story with the emotional milestones plugged in.

09/13/14 - Excerpt from my journal
"I am so over being pregnant.  All of my preparation about my body knowing what to do, did not prepare me for going over my due date.  I cry almost every day.  As of today, I have officially been pregnant longer than ever before."

I was overrrrr it.  I'd had start and stop labor for weeks, and in the last week it had calmed down completely.  I spend a living telling women to trust their bodies, avoid induction, and reminding people that the average gestation RANGES up to 42 weeks.  But there I was on 40 weeks exactly and had resigned to being pregnant for the rest of my life.  I wrote, "This is just my new way of existence.  I'll be pregnant forever, I'm sure of it."

Before I start my birth story, it's important to touch on Milo's for context.  You can read it here, but here is the summary:  it hurt much more than I expected, I was not prepared mentally for labor, I felt like I sucked at it and it was traumatizing.

I knew this was my last birth and I really wanted it to be an experience.  I carefully chose my OB, not for their willingness to accept my vba2c birth but for their philosophy on birth.  I see a lot from my vantage point of chapter leader of ICAN, and I knew the two providers I wanted to try.  I spent 35 weeks with the first OB, but at the last minute knew that they weren't right.  At 36 weeks I switched to Dr. Gary Newman and was so impressed that I told him I wanted him to be my birth husband, which I defined as a marriage where all we do is talk about birth stuff.  I loved him.  Loved the hospital and was really excited about the birth.

Just like before, I knew I didn't need technical help birthing a baby.  I just needed the right people around me, and an  OB to catch the baby.  I spent the lion's share of the pregnancy preparing my mind.  Neutralizing the fear I had of labor, and trying to absorb the advice and knowledge I give to others about trusting your body and trusting the process.  I went and told my birth story in a special birth story sharing session and through talking it out, realized that my greatest fear was that was that I wasn't "normal" and wasn't "strong".  I felt like I was feeling pain so much stronger than everyone else, and felt like a wuss.  In trying to describe it to my husband I said, "Imagine running a marathon.  You finish, but the whole time you bitched and whined and thought you were dying.  It kind of takes the wind out of your sails of success."  That's how I felt about Milo's birth.  I could hardly be proud of myself.  I felt like I pushed out a baby, despite myself.

Towards the end of pregnancy I took a "Birthing Again" class with the amazing, Alejandrina Vostrej.  It was four weeks of diving deep into your thoughts and feelings of birth.  We talked about women in the wild that go to their safe place to have a baby, and she'd ask "What does your safe place look like?"  We talked about those women shutting down the labor process biologically if they saw a tiger in the wild, "What is your tiger?" she'd ask.  We practiced pain coping techniques, which helped me find and practice how to mentally sustain the pain when my mind was no longer willing.  I read the Birthing Within book and read all kinds of wonderful stories of calm, strong women having babies.  I read all kinds of affirmations that reminded me that I was made to do this.  Mostly I convinced myself to remember that I can't let myself worry about what's happening next, I'd have to remind myself:

You're already doing it.
You move mountains a stone at a time.
You can let go because God has this.

I thought a lot about animals.  In the book it talked about how animals that give birth in the wild aren't thinking about how far apart their contractions are, or what is going to happen next or if it will happen "in time".  They just breathe, keep their feet on the ground and take it moment by moment listening to their body.  I just had to be an animal giving birth.

Nothing special happened the day before I gave birth.  I went to church, laughed about being pregnant longer than ever and had really tried to stop obsessing over being pregnant and just live.  Just go about your daily life, and forget about the pregnancy was my motto.

09/15/2014
2:30AM:
I woke up to a strongish contraction. Not painful but intense enough to wake me. Less tightening feeling, more a lower cramping pain around my round ligaments.  I didn't automatically know I was in labor, but I knew that the contraction was stronger than I'd had before.  It woke me up enough that I started to read in bed and tried to fall back asleep.

15 minutes later I had another contraction.  I noted the time on my phone and kept reading.  15 minutes later I had another one.  The next one came around 8 minutes later.  Ultimately, I ended up reading in bed watching contractions that grew from 15 minutes to 4 minutes apart from 2:30am to 4:00am.  They were not painful at all, but intense enough to focus my breathing.  I wasn't the least bit afraid.  I woke Cameron up around 4am, told him I was having contractions and that I was going to take a shower to see if they would go away.

Minutes into my shower they were coming every 2 minutes.  They didn't hurt at all, truly.  Just a tightening.  I cried into my hands with relief in the shower.  I knew that God had made me wait so that I would feel gratitude instead of fear when my labor started.  He had the perfect plan.

After my shower, it was understood I was in labor but we believed it was still super early.  I'd had no bloody show, and I'd never really lost my mucous plug.  I figured I was having early labor pains with no cervical change yet.  We let Milo sleep, texted Jane that Milo would be coming over soon and watched Dane Cook (old, funny Dane Cook, not new, angsty hostile Dane Cook) while I bounced on my ball.  We laughed, and I continued to breathe through contractions that didn't hurt at all - they were just a feeling of tightness and intensity.

I called my doula around 6am, I obviously sounded fine because I wasn't in pain.  We both thought it was weird that I hadn't had any bloody show.  She was worried I would go to the hospital too early, but I was worried about going too late since it was almost 45 minutes away.  I wanted to avoid painful labor in the car.  We had been debating going over the 2 hours, but around 6am I had a pretty strong contraction that made me hold on to the counter.  I had a fear pass through as fleeting as a butterfly's flap of wind, I told myself immediately not to be afraid.  That I was doing it, and to just worry about one contraction at a time.  It was the last time I felt fear.  We left to drop Milo off at Jane's.

At Jane's I stayed in the car because the doctor called.  I told him the scoop: Contractions since 2:30am, around 3-4 minutes apart, very little discomfort and no bloody show.  He recommended I come in based on the pattern, and that's the only encouragement we needed to leave.

6:15AM
Left for the hospital.  It was a 45 minute ride in.  I made a very normal sounding call to my Mom to let her know the scoop.  I got off saying, "Gotta run, a contraction is coming.  I'll call you later."  The contractions were steady, and they were intense but not painful.  I had my headphones to listen to Sara Barellies and I would pop in my music when they would start, close my eyes and focus on relaxing every part of my body.  In between contractions, Cameron and I would laugh and talk and talk about the pretty drive.

7:00AM
Arrived at hospital.  My contractions were intense, but I wasn't suffering.  Cameron had to push hard on my lower back during the contraction and then I was fine afterward.  I was having a weird emotional reflex after each contraction.  My eyes would well up and I'd get a little chest sob, and I'd laugh about it because I didn't feel emotional.  I'd apologize to whatever medical staff I was talking to, "Sorry, I'm not really crying..my body is just doing this weirdly after each contraction."  We'd carry on the conversation.  I was answering all of my own questions, Cam would take over during contractions.  At some point during a contraction the nurse asked what the pain plan was, Cam said, "Un-medicated."  In my mind it had put the nail in the coffin that there was no chickening out now, but I felt a pride.  I felt the pride in his voice as he said it.

I wanted to stand the whole time because the sensations were more manageable that way, but Cameron had to push harder and harder and I couldn't get through a contraction without him pushing on my back.

7:45AM
We are finishing the triage process and she says it's time to check me.  We wait until after a contraction and I lay down for an agonizing moment while she checks and proclaims me...WAIT FOR IT...

A 7!!!!

Lord Jesus knows what a relief that was for me.  I cried in relief.  I had been so afraid that I would be a 2.  They grabbed a gown and we headed for a room.  I walked myself and joked that I felt like a dog on a leash with all of the tummy monitors I had being dragged by the nurse with equipment.

When I got in the room, literally after walking in, I got another contraction and this one was pretty intense. Cam was putting the bags down across the room and wasn't there to put counter pressure on my back. I spat out a try-to-be sentence using only the important words:

I can't.......fuck bags..........HANDS Cam!

The nurse had to put a heplock on me and told me I should sit on the ball while she did it so Cam could apply counter pressure easier.  The ball contractions were super intense and I was getting less than a minute between them.  For a moment or two I thought that this was going to be hard if it went on long enough, but I was so busy focusing on staying in the moment that I didn't have time to continue down that path and it quickly passed.

She wanted to check me and somehow checked me on my hands and knees after I crawled sideways into the bed. She said, "She's complete! Don't push! I have to call your doctor!"

Contractions were back to back at this point. My body had taken over and with every contraction I pushed and screamed.  I didn't recognize my own voice, and had never heard a scream like that come from me.  It wasn't a desperate scream, I wasn't in pain.  It was just helping me pull energy to use for pushing.  Pushing felt good, like a relief from the pressure of the contractions and something purposeful to do with the energy.

They kept telling me to get on my back between contractions but there was no break and it felt unnatural to get on my back.  Nothing in my body was telling me to move in that way to get this baby out.  I didn't cognitively think that, but I resisted moving because I felt like I was in my best position.

I could feel her moving down. I tried to not push unless I needed. It was really a worthless sentiment because I wasn't deciding to push anyway and the sensation to push was nearly consistent with my back to back contractions.

Cam said at this point he had a major adrenaline rush because he didn't think there would be an OB in time to catch. He described an earthy smell to the room, intrestingly enough.  They were paging the OB to come stat and the OB nor my doula was there.  When the nurse ran out, he thought for a moment he might have to catch her.

Through this time I was never afraid. I was frustrated they were telling me to get on my back, but I wasn't afraid of what was happening, what I felt or what I was about the feel.  I was in labor land.

Hazel was crowning/coming out. My doula still wasn't there. My doctor was "5 minutes away".  They had called over the intercom for any available OB to come to my room stat. The hospital OB and my sweet doula got there at the same time, as Hazelanne's head was coming out.

The OB immediately wanted me to get on my back but I just kept saying no and kept pushing involuntarily.  My doula's presence felt like she was curled around my head cuddling me. She wasn't but that's what her presence did for me.  I grasped her hand and held it to my face. She whispered sweet positive things in my ear.  She told me I didn't have to get on my back.  She told me how strong I was.  I was so comforted.

8:08AM:
The resident OB ended up catching Hazel while I pushed her out on my hands and knees. The nurses told me after the fact that she is a very old-school doctor and said before leaving that she'd never caught a baby that way.  It was very awkward getting her into my arms.  Right as she came out, the shakes came on from all the adrenaline.  I was shaking uncontrollably and in a lifted position on my knees and still wearing my dress.  They were trying to push her under the dress into my arms and I needed help.  We managed to get her into my arms and on my back.  I was truly in shock but felt such intense joy that I thought I was shaking from happiness.

Cameron had to fight off the old-school OB from clamping the cord. She kept trying and he kept holding her back. I'm so thankful for that because I was not even thinking about that.  That cord pulsed until it was completely finished; I'm so grateful.  I even got to see the cord connected to us before it was cut.  The doctor arrived while it was finishing up pulsing.  Cam cut the cord.

When it came time to push out the placenta, I was resistant.  The after-birth time was truly the worst part.  I was sore and really sensitive and people were poking and prying me.  When he wanted me to push for the placenta, I told him I didn't want to push anymore but he convinced me to push just once more.

I declined the post-birth pitocin and they just watched my bleeding. I successfully avoided any medication and synthetic hormones. It was amazing.  My doctor gave me a couple stitches where I tore a small bit. It was all over! I felt so amazing. It was such a high.

I spent weeks after the birth just riding the birth high.  Cameron and I felt like we had gone through the most amazing experience, and just couldn't stop talking about it.  Remember that time you pushed out a baby, un-medicated like a bad ass?, Cam would say to me.  Remember that time you had to stop the nazi OB from cutting my cord like a birth ninja?, I would tell him.  It was so awesome, truly.  I told absolutely everyone that would pass into my presence.  I had an un-medicated birth and went from 7 to birth in 23 minutes!

There aren't words for how grateful I feel to have had exactly the birth experience I wanted. Down to every detail. I felt strong, and present. Cam was with me 1000%. God saturated us with peace and gave us everything we needed, exactly when we needed it. 

Mostly, I am so excited to tell my daughters about this as they grow up so that hopefully they can go on to have perfectly normal and strong birth experiences.  Even if they don't want their bossy mama in the room.

I am so grateful to ICAN for educating me that vaginal birth is possible after two cesareans.  Alejandrina Vostrej for helping me prepare my mind, and my partnership with Cameron going into this birth.  I'm grateful to my best friends for listening to me bitch about pregnancy at the end.  I'm supremely grateful for Cameron for being my calm pillar of strength through all hard times.  I wouldn't want to stand next to anyone else in life.  And I'm grateful mostly to God for having the supreme wisdom to give me exactly what I needed over my 4 births so that I could cross the finish line with this amazing, life-completing birth.  God is good.

To my kids, here is what happened in my 20s.

There is something sobering about completing a decade in your life. It reminds me that I'm IN it. This is life. Each moment that passes can't be re-lived, and I am slowly but surely approaching death. I don't mean this in a negative way, it's actually enlightening to me. I have never been someone afraid of getting older, and turning 30 feels exhilarating. Like I get this whole new decade to make whatever I want with.  It does however bring to light all of those "Who am I?" questions that accompany thoughts of mortality.

Is my job how I want to spend the majority of my adult life?

Am I good wife?  Am I good mother?  Am I appreciating these fleeting years?

How can I make my life meaningful? What can I give to this planet that will outlast my short life?

It is also staggering how much I've grown into my own skin in the last 10 years. I've had SO much life.  It's been on my heart to document what it's like to be me, right now in this moment, to give to my daughters one day.  Teaching them is one thing, but mostly I want to leave a piece of me for them to relate to. I know what happens as we grow, our hair turns gray and we see things so differently that to our children it may seem like somehow we were born at that age and never lived through the same heart aches and struggles of youth.

So as an au revoir to my twenties, here are the events that shaped my core being and the kind of woman I am now, as written to my daughters.

Leaving the Nest

I was eager to be on my own and actually moved out right after high school when I was 17. I'll be okay if you want to do that too, I understand the drive for independence.  There were several hard lessons included in this season, but I'll list my two big - let's call them - "learning curves":

1. Living with your friends is fun, but also dramatic. Well-selected stranger roommates live their own life, do their own thing, buy their own food and basically keep to themselves. When you live with your friend there is a lot of sharing clothes, borrowing money, stealing food, forced company (friends of friends) and in general next to zero inherent boundaries. That said, I lived with my best friend, Mia several times over my early 20s and although there was usually drama, I wouldn't trade the amazing memories. Lots of drinking, lots of boys, lots of hiking and outdoorsy stuff, lots of spontaneous California trips, lots of secret adventures that I wouldn't dare post on the internet, but promise to tell you one day...in person and probably after drinking. 

2. Money and other grown up stuff. To this section I'll give you my straight advice which you can infer I learned from doing the opposite: 

Credit matters. Learn how to really make a budget, I'll help you.  Don't hide from your money problems, dig deep and figure out what you're working with so it's not so stressful. Read leases carefully. Include spending money and food costs in your budget. Use cash so you don't overspend. Put money in your savings before spending money. Get a job, find your little niche in life before buying a house. You may want to live in the cool bohemian side of town this year and may want to move to San Diego next. Minimize commitments during these early years so you allow yourself space to stretch and grow. 

Love

Oh boy.  I've learned heaps and heaps about love in my 20s. To protect the innocent and the guilty (that's me), I'm going to skip itemizing mistakes in this section too, and jump straight to what I learned. 

Don't settle on who you love, and the kind of love you deserve. Love yourself first, it's the best way to catch the right guy. Sex doesn't have to be a BIG deal, but you are giving away something amazing each time so love yourself enough to be choosy.  Boys respect a girl that doesn't give it up to just anyone. They may go home with the girl that gives it up easy, but it's the girls that keep their cards close that drive them truly crazy. USE BIRTH CONTROL.  You can and will get pregnant if you're flippant about it. Avoid any long acting birth controls like injections because if you have a crappy side effect you have to ride it out (we call this the hurricane season of my life called Depo Provera.) But USE BIRTH CONTROL.  If you get pregnant, don't feel like you have to have an abortion. It's hard and scary, but there are millions of great people who can't have their own babies.  It's hard to know when love is for real and I can only speak for myself here but look for someone who feels like your best friend, that you also can't keep your hands off of. There should be lots of laughter and fun. Love should come easy. You should feel like a better person for having known them. They should know how to call you on your shit, while also lifting you up. Don't settle, my little loves. When you find it, it's so worth it. And in love and friendship, never be afraid to say when it's been enough. Some relationships are there just for a season to teach you something about yourself, never forget that the only person you ever need is you.  That said, take marriage seriously. You can't be ready until at least 25, I'm a firm believer in that. There is so much that changes within us leading up to your mid-twenties. You will be a completely different person with different goals, different desires, different priorities than when you first stepped out on your own. So, go to college. Date a lot of boys (keep your legs closed!), learn what you like and don't like in a relationship, practice breaking up, date yourself, spend time with your friends, and just figure out who you are. After college, get a job and start your life. That way whoever you meet will always know you as that person and won't be surprised. Plus, you tend to meet people going in the same direction when you start your path.  But above all else, love yourself first.  Accept nothing but love and respect from all of your relationships. You should never have to give more than you receive until you're a mother.

PS. Pay attention when everyone hates your boyfriend.  They can usually see something you don't and only want your best.  Alternatively, just because everyone likes your boyfriends, doesn't mean he's "the one".  You can be like someone, and they can be "nice", but not the one that is going to keep you strong, engaged and refined for the rest of your life. 

Career

Life is short, if you're not happy, it's not worth it. You may fail but you have one chance at life, and how awesome would it be to really make it doing what you love! You're going to spend a lot of time away from your family going to work, so if you're not happy, do something about it. My favorite quotes about change are:

I crossed the street to walk in the sunshine. 

Just when the caterpillar thought it's life was over, it became a butterfly. 

Don't be afraid of the unknown.  Listen to the whisper of your heart, it's God telling you where to go. Stand under His umbrella and follow his pushes.  I promise you can feel it if you quiet your own thoughts. It's a sense of "Ahhh this is right where I'm supposed to be". When you don't have that, pay attention and make changes.  There's no excuse not to. 

Fly Away Little Bird

Before you get rooted by careers and families, live somewhere else for awhile. Go somewhere you've never been. Live on your own in a new place.  Find new grocery stores and make them home. Meet new friends. Practice being self sufficient. I prefer you come home after, but I understand if you don't. The world is a big place and it would make me so proud to see you go explore it. 

Feelings

It is an on-going struggle for me to learn how to be vulnerable with other people. I don't expect anyone else to fill my emotional void or fix my feelings, and as a result I've kind of sucked at even talking about it with others. Every single day I work to make a better example for you, but it's a struggle for me.  But I've learned the value of being better at this. You can share your vulnerability without the expectation that others will fix it and it's so important to get that stuff processed and out of you. Always have some good girlfriends that you can unload on without judgment. I promise to always listen and I'll try really hard not to tell you how to fix it. Emotions don't make us weak, they can be our strongest features. 

Mostly daughters, I want you to feel deep in your bones that you are strong.  That you are worth everything, a valuable little piece in this big world.  Through mistakes, and heartache, and lots of changes I want you to feel rooted in yourself and secure.  You are beautiful creatures that God knit together, stitch by stitch.  There is none like you.  You can run places, you can explore, you can bring home crazy boyfriends or decide you don't want to get married or have kids.  I will always love you.

~~~

I'll end this on my favorite part of my 20s, which was like the rainbow to the hardest part of my 20s. Meeting Cameron. He was like the icing on the decade cake of my 20s. He was the gift of true love. His love gave me wings and the courage to keep discovering myself and who I wanted to be. My ultimate wish for my kids is that after finding themselves, they'd find their Cameron. A best friend that will make life and parenting fun, so their life feels like an adventure, even at it's most mundane. Someone that laughs with them during love and looks at them like they're their best friend.

~~~

So happy birthday to me!  Cheers to 30!

Becoming an ICAN Chapter Leader

I used to get my confidence, and my self-esteem from my position at work.  I was really proud of my reputation at work, and it ultimately gave me the assurance that I was smart, capable of anything and valuable in a professional setting.

I decided to take over as Chapter Leader of ICAN of Phoenix shortly after Milo was born, I think March 2013.  At the time I had the smallest whisper inside me telling me that I wanted to be more involved in this "vbac movement".  I had planned on just volunteering, but at the exact moment I was taking that step, the previous Chapter Leader decided to step down.  I was confident in my management skills from my day-job and so I decided to take the leap and just go for it.  I felt terrible under-qualified.

I wanted to badly for this to become my thing, but I was so insecure in my abilities to pull this off that I regretted doing it almost immediately.  The previous Chapter Leader was so established, people loved her and I was so different from her.  I knew how I planned my birth, and I was really confident in the leading people to information, but my strength has never been consoling the emotions of others, and ICAN came with a lot of women needing to share and digest their feelings.  I felt awkward and I like I could make things worse for these poor women, and so many times I wanted to quit.

It's been almost a year now, and I don't even know how to transition this post into how I feel now.  I've realized there is no real art form to helping women process their emotions.  You just have to listen, and acknowledge that their feelings are valid.  It's not as scary as I thought.  As my confidence has grown, so has my willingness to reach out to women and offer my help and there has been at least 50 women in the last year I have helped that went on to have empowered birth experiences.  I know I'm not changing lives, but I can tangibly feel that I'm making a difference.  Even if it's just helping them start their journey of motherhood on an empowered note, I really believe that can make such a difference in how someone experiences their first months and years of motherhood.  The pride I get from this position is so different than the pride I get with my "day-job" at work.  The pride from my day-job was self-serving; a desire to be the best at what I do and for people to recognize me.  This pride is fed by the feeling of humility and gratefulness I have in having a part in women's births.  The warm feeling I have when I see their "I DID IT!" posts on facebook, and see what empowered awesome mamas they become.  Most of these women go on to have their babies, and I may never get a thank you but truly the only reward that's meaningful to me is watching them carry on as strong women.

I am so thankful that when I was insecure and on an unknown path, that I didn't turn back.  I didn't quit just because it was scary and I was afraid of failure.  My experience as Chapter Leader for ICAN in the last year has made me a better person in so many ways.  I'm more confident in my body, and feel like part of a team with my care providers instead of just a patient.  I'll be a better mother to my children, especially when they go on to have children of their own.  I have so much more to offer them in this important piece of their life.  I'm much better at being there for people in an emotional capacity.  I've learned how to pay attention to what someone needs based on how they ask for help instead of just shoving birth facts down their throat.  I've learned that opening up my time and my life for other people, is a lot like tithing at church.  If you give your last dollar, or your last precious moment to help someone else; somehow you are paid back and often with interest. 

"Normal Birth"

I've totally slacked on blog posts recently but you know...4 kids, full-time working mom, non-profit leader...blah, blah, blah.

I wanted to get down on "paper" some thoughts I've had about a recent Birth Story Telling experience.  It was surprisingly healing.

For context of this blog, it's important to know that my vba2c birth was much more traumatizing to me than it was healing.  It's hard for me to even write that because it makes me feel like a birth junkie scam artist.  I struggle with feelings of inadequacy and weakness and it makes me feel unqualified to offer birth support to others.  More importantly, it's left me with feelings of panic and dread leading up to this birth.  Also for context, I am the Chapter Leader of ICAN of Phoenix; an international non-profit organization that supports the emotional recovery of cesarean, advocates for evidence based birth practices, supports women planning vbacs and helps educate women on how to avoid unnecessary cesareans.  I help women trust their bodies and believe in their body's ability to birth.

I know that confidence is the first and best pain management option a woman can have going into birth.  I know this.  I tell other women this all the time.  I teach them and preach to them, "Have faith in your body!  You were made for this!"  I believe so strongly that women are powerful and meant to push babies out, but what I believe about everyone else and what I tell myself are different in this respect.

In the Birth Story telling session, the facilitator asks you to pick a piece of your birth story that you replay over and over in your mind and then you basically work to deconstruct the feelings behind that moment and put together a plan to splice that moment's negativity out of your "birth story" and replace it with something positive.

I was so reluctant and nervous to go this session.  I'm inherently not great at talking about feelings of vulnerability and I am not easily swayed by others trying to convince me something, especially about myself.  This is both a strength and a weakness.  Going into it I knew she was going to try and convince me that I was strong, but that she would be wrong.  I didn't want to be impolite so I literally practiced how I would appease her with things like, "Oh I feel so much better!" to let her off the hook when she couldn't penetrate that cement like barrier of my feelings.  Before we got started she asked me to close my eyes and do a "body scan".  I've done this before in yoga and pilates, it means just taking a moment to reflect on what your body feels like in that moment.  What hurts, what your breathing is like, etc.  All I felt was my heart pounding in nervousness. 

The moment that came to mind as one that repeats itself over and over in my mind, is the moment I got out of the tub and had my mega contraction.  It was 3 minutes and 42 seconds of terror.  It felt like every cell and muscle fiber in my body had tensed up and it was excruciating.  I couldn't call out for my husband, and I couldn't breathe.  It was that specific moment, just a second's decision where I decided I was afraid, not strong.  It set the tone for the rest of my birth.  I forgot everything that I studied and practiced for my birth experience.  I went into the mode of: "I am in physical danger, I am very scared and where is the path of least resistance to get me out of this."  I am so ashamed of that decision.

Some insightful moments from the birth session:
- She kept asking me what I "tell myself", and it's strange because I'm strangely positive and supportive in how I consciously speak to myself.  I work hard to undo the negative beliefs I have about the birth, but what I tell myself and what I believe about myself are different.  I am too strong even to get through to myself.

- She kept asking me to drill down to what I was feeling in that moment and it all came down to fear.  I was experiencing something out of my control, and totally unknown.  "Fear is a normal response in that situation." she told me.  I was honest and said, "I appreciate what you are trying to say to me, but I can't let myself off the hook.  I feel weak."

- She asked me to summarize my story into one thought/feeling and it was "I suck at labor."

- She asked how it impacted how I view myself, and I told her I felt unqualified to give birth/labor advice.  That when I have this next baby I've asked my husband to call on all of my strong natural birth friends to support me, and that I know I wouldn't be someone I would call in that situation.  I told her that I felt like I wasn't qualified enough in birth to be a support person in my own daughter's birth and how sad that was to me.

- She asked me what I was proud of and I said that I stopped them from making me push when I didn't feel "pushy" yet.  She said how impressive that was, especially for someone that says they felt "out of control" and "weak" in their labor.  She tried to convince me that it's really impressive for a laboring woman to put her foot down like that and refuse to push when she's not ready, and I told her for a second time "Thank you, but I can't believe that it's impressive because I still felt so weak afterwards."

- She told me to close my eyes and pretend that overnight, all of the negative thoughts and feelings I had about my birth were gone.  She asked me to say what my new thoughts/feelings would be about my labor and the first thing that came to my mind was to say, "That my labor was normal."

- I realized in the conversation after that, that I didn't want to be the best laborer ever, I was just frustrated/disappointed that I felt worse than everyone else.  If I can make myself believe that my labor experience was normal, I think it can start to shift my entire perception about the experience.  It was normal to feel afraid when I was in pain and things weren't going as expected.  It was normal for me to try and work through it in the capacity that I knew how to deal with stress: to shut down, trust only myself and try and get through it as easily as possible.  I am starting to feel just the slightest amount of acceptance and understanding.  It WAS normal.  Maybe not normal for what I knew at the time, but normal for the labor experience - especially for a first time pusher.

After the session, my "takeaways" are really to re-train my thought pattern to consider my birth experience as "normal" and to change how I planned for this birth knowing what I do now.  I'm also supposed to practice being vulnerable.  She said to practice telling a close friend when I feel a feeling that I would consider "weak" and to allow that friend to give their support and to truly accept it.  She says that will help me practice for during labor when I need to trust that someone else can protect me and keep me safe.

For this birth, I know better than to think my mind can ignore what's happening to my body.  I can't turn off the pain, I can't turn off the exhaustion or fear at the great task facing me during the moment.  I have to learn how to work with it and work through it.  Learning about optimal labor positions is great, but if I have already shut down mentally I won't be remembering things like that.  I have to go into this knowing that my mind isn't strong enough to protect me from the experience of birth, but it's strong enough to get me through it.

I'm feeling just the slightest movement towards confidence in my body.  I'm looking forward to the lesson that this birth will teach me, and I'm grateful for the lessons of my past birth.

My kid won't stop getting sick.

I couldn't figure out how to start this so I'll just jump right in.

Milo's blood work came back and he is deficient in igg and iga; two important immunoglobins that are responsible for keeping your body healthy, and keeping infections away.

Milo was getting sick almost every other week, and the illness was lasting for a good week, at least.  He'd have over-lapping symptoms which the doctor would diagnosis as "multiple viruses".  High fever one day, then that would go and a stomach symptoms would arise, then go, then bad cough would start, then go.  It was very frustrating.

Milo has been sick with approximately 10 different illnesses since January basically.  We've gone to 9 doctor visits, 1 ER visit and had at least 4 chest x-rays.  He's mostly been diagnosed with various viruses, but has also been diagnosed with pneumonia, a sinus infection and reactive airway disease (or something like that).  They talk about asthma - not the kind that makes you wheeze, but the kind that makes too much junk when you get even the smallest cold.  Oh, we've also seen an ENT and have a pulmonologist, and allergist/immunologist scheduled for later this month.

I'm not a mother that takes her kid's to the doctor often.  In fact, more than once I have looked negligent when I finally take my kid in and they've had strep for days without my knowledge.  I don't like antibiotics, and I encourage rest and healing at home whenever possible.  I've never had a kid before Milo that has reached 104+ fever even once, Milo does it nearly every time he's sick.  I've never had a kid with such a persistent wet cough, until Milo.  Every time I tried to talk to the doctor about this they would tell me, "it's the older siblings", or "it's just that season".  They told me "it's just the same cough...it lingers...".

Recently the doctor told me, "Hey, hey, hey...don't worryaboutit, kids his age get sick 6-7 times a year...."

I said, "Milo has been sick at least 6-7 times since JANUARY."

He said, "Well sometimes, it's all at once."

I said, "And you guys are telling me each time that he's getting multiple viruses on top of one another, so wouldn't that be like 12-14 times sick then?"

He said, "It happens."

I couldn't get them to take my gut instinct seriously.  I plainly said, "I have 4 kids, I know kids.  I know my kids.  I don't know what you know about the children you see, but I know my kids, and I know what's normal, and this is not normal."  The doctor smiled at me condescendingly and said, "Thanks for coming in, let us know if he gets worse."

I wanted to say HE IS WORSE.  THIS IS WHY I BROUGHT HIM IN.

Anyway, so I finally got so fed up at the lack of listening and lack of answers that I took him to a new pediatrician and that day (April 29), the new doctor listened to my concerns and based on my explanation, without any real documentation yet because nothing had transferred, she recommended blood work and follow-ups with specialists.  She is the first person to contemplate immune issues, which is what we've secretly worried about all along but his previous pediatrician never mentioned.

Milo got the blood work on the 29th, and we got the call back on the 30th.

First the message, "Jenni, this is Dr. Apley, we got the blood work and I want to talk to you about it so I'll call back shortly."

My stomach turned.

I called back and she started with, "Well the good news is..." and I waited the rest of the conversation to hear the other part of the statement, "...and the bad news is..."

I'm trying stay calm and remember that he's mostly a fat healthy baby that is just getting sick a lot.  He's not failing to thrive.  He's full of energy, eats and sleeps well.  There is nothing more traumatizing than considering even for a moment that there might something wrong with your child's body that you can't fix.

I'm trying to balance the stress of this and remember to worry about what I can control, but it's so difficult.  I have headaches, my blood pressure is high and my anxiety is worse than ever right now.  I'm waking up in the middle panicked with random crap, that doesn't even matter.  My mind just spins, spins, spins.

I think what is most stressful to me is there is no escape from it.  I can't take a couple days of work, or take a quick get-a-way, or have a spa weekend to get over it.  Milo will still be sitting there the whole time with something wrong with his blood and there is no way for me to get around it.  I just have to go through it.

Thank you Jesus that there's no tumors, or something life-threatening.  All my dr. google searches basically lend to "born with it", "something you have to know", "transfusions" and "preventative antibiotics".  There is a lot to do with "risk of major complications with routine illnesses" but we haven't faced that yet, and I'm sure that with every month he get's stronger.

So that's where I'm at.  I thought that writing this all out might be helpful, but really I'm finishing this up and have a headache and feel a tight knot in my stomach as big as my body.  I can't wait to see the specialist and just be able to look at what we're dealing with, and move forward. 

The unknown is what kills me.