Welfare- Truth Is, I Hated It

I have seen a few mom blog posts touching on "welfare" or "WIC" or things like that lately.  Honestly, I haven't had the time to read all of them, but it did get me thinking back to when.......

When my hubby was in grad school we had one baby when he started.  We wanted me to stay at home with the babe and when we moved states we lost our health insurance and our cheap rent.  So, because "everybody else was doing it" I went and signed up for help.  My son received medicaid and our family got food stamps.  

You know, people complain about the programs, the food isn't healthy, the food is too generous, the health care is limited, people get too much, people don't get enough, the slackers, the workers, blah, blah, blah.  

This isn't a very intellectual response but my thoughts on social "welfare" (if that is what you want to call it) are simply that I hated it for ME.  

I hated sitting in the office.  I hated that it destroyed any sense of pride.  I hated feeling like I was begging for money.  I hated the way I FELT when I went to the grocery store and used that card instead of money we had earned.  I hated the way it impacted our relationship with money.  

Truthfully, I felt like it was bad for the soul.  

And I just couldn't get over it.  I never felt good about getting welfare.  I guess you can justify it by saying it is "temporary" or "needed" or that we will "pay back into it,"  but none of those really jived with me.  

I am glad those programs exist for people who need them, but it simply hurts my pride to be one of the people who needs them.  

Later on, we moved again.  We decided NOT to sign up for food stamps and health insurance this time.  It bothered both of us, my husband and I, to receive those benefits when we felt we hadn't earned them.  And let's be real-  When you are on social welfare programs, many people inevitable start to...bite the hand that feeds them, so to speak.  I know I noticed myself doing that after a while.  And frankly, that is what bothered me most of all, the change I saw in myself.  

I don't care if I DO pay taxes, I don't think that entitles me to an unlimited government bankroll for as long as I need it.  And I hated to see in myself a growing sense of entitlement.  

You know what- it royally SUCKED being poor and not having government help.  But some amazing things happened.  Our families helped us.  (Yes, another blow to my pride.)  We were more careful with money, because if we spent it poorly, there was literally NO FOOD.  We ate cheap, we gleaned, I learned how to make things that I had never made before, we used our garden, we were GRATEFUL for every bit of food we had and we wasted less.  I realized how the word "need" is really ABUSED in our country right now.  

People think their 9 year olds need cell phones and their houses need TV's.  Nice to have, need....not so much.  

I had two babies without health insurance, paying with cash or trade to a home birth midwife, rather than getting "free" care at my local hospital.  

And we were....dare I say it?....blessed.  It will sound lame to some, but I did feel like we were blessed for our efforts to try to make it.  It was extremely motivating to make money, and it was even more satisfying to start to get to a place where we were making some.  

Was is stressful?  It was probably the most difficult year or two in my short life.  But we made it through- barely- but we did.  And I guess that was my thought on it all-  Unless we really NEEDED those programs, I would prefer they were used by people who did need them.  

That, I felt OK with.  

(This isn't a cap or a judgment on people who get government aid- just my thoughts on ME getting it.  But if you need to tell me how insulting I am, I would love to hear about it.  You can e-mail me at thisisabogusemail@mamabirth.com)

Surprise Breech Birth

Very interesting surprise breech home birth with a postpartum transfer.  It is a detailed story and I must say, it says a lot about birth, home birth, transfers, hospital care and treatment, and the current maternity system.  Truly, personal stories like this tell bigger stories about our culture and our views of birth and birth history-

Enjoy!

The birth of Callan Leo

LMP due date: March 17

U/S and conception due date: March 22

Born: March 29, 2011 @ 3:35 p.m at 41 weeks.

7 lbs 12 oz, 21 inches

Right from the very beginning, everything about Cal’s pregnancy was a test of my ability to accept life as it comes.

My husband and I knew we wanted a second child and planned to start trying for one in September, just before my first son turned two. A summer baby seemed so nice, but this baby wanted to be born in spring instead.

I definitely was not charting as I used to, but figured since I was on cycle day 20 or later, that the chance of conception while on a family vacation celebrating our wedding anniversary was pretty slim. But just before July 4, I noticed some tell-tale fertility signs and realized it was a little too late to prevent a possible pregnancy. Sure enough, a couple of weeks later I was woken with the urgent need to pee and discovered I could no longer drink even a sip of coffee or make it long without eating. I tested on July 17 and low and behold, we were expecting our second baby in March.

I knew immediately I wanted to make a homebirth happen. My first son’s hospital birth was the best I could ask for from that setting but it was stressful, not the comfortable or relaxing environment I wanted. I knew I would again birth without assistance from pain meds and therefore felt a hospital was utterly unnecessary in terms of the care I required for my baby and I. I also knew that for me, another hospital birth would necessitate laboring at home as long as possible and had no interest in making the mad dash to the hospital in active labor.

With my first, my labor began when my water broke and after only 6 hours or so of contractions I was getting copious amounts of bloody show and already feeling pushy. I was fully dilated and fully pushing by the time we arrived in antenatal. My 8 pound son was born after 90 minutes of pushing at 3:26 p.m. It was pretty fast for a first baby and all involved agreed a homebirth might make the best sense for my second, assuming my pregnancy was as low risk as my first was.

I began my second pregnancy with the same midwives from my first, knowing I would eventually have to transfer to a midwife who would attend my baby’s birth at home. So I set out to find that midwife, interviewing five possibilities while receiving prenatal care from my old CNM. We did all of the routine prenatal testing including the early risk assessment ultrasound and anatomy scan at 20 weeks while we knew my care was safely covered by insurance.

Meanwhile I was also sorting out insurance and trying to make every possible preparation for my home, health and family to ensure to the best of my ability, that birthing at home would be safe and peaceful.

There were constant tests of my decision along the way: from questions about whether my insurance would ultimately pay for most of this or whether it would be entirely an out of pocket expense; questions from friends and family about our choice to birth at home; questions about my choice of midwife and whether or not to consent to various prenatal care options in the later part of my pregnancy. Questions about birth pools even! I did a lot of soul searching and research--more so than I did even with my first pregnancy.

The last two weeks of my pregnancy were the toughest. I was really feeling doubts about my body working that I’ve never experienced before. My mom, a labor and delivery nurse for more than 30 years, was staying with us so she could attend the birth and help with our son. But having her there was bringing out the worst in me in so many ways. It seemed as soon as I would get myself back into a peaceful mindset, someone would say something or I would read something that would just slam me back into this doubting place. It was really taxing.

Most of the stress stemmed from my foolishly convincing myself that this baby was going to come early. My first son was born a week before my earliest due date and none of my sisters’ six babies were born post 40 weeks. I for some reason believed it was impossible for us to gestate babies longer than that! So when my first due date came and went, then my second came and went, I got a great big taste of how agonizing it is for women to go post dates.

The single best thing that did come out of the wait was that my husband became critical to me in terms of my dealing with the stress. I am fiercely independent and often resistant to leaning even on him, and he totally showed me that I could and should rely on him more. I think we needed that for our relationship and that bond would end up being really important to me later in ways I only really grasp now.

41 weeks

By 39 weeks I was having fairly regular but inconsistent contractions. The kind that have you convince that labor MUST be imminent. But I ended up experiencing a good two weeks of this sort of labor pattern: A day of really minor early contractions that followed no pattern, followed by a day of absolutely nothing. I sat on my birthing ball, tailor sat, did pelvic rocks, took long walks including hills and curb walking, everything I could think of to coax labor to begin in earnest. Nothing was working.

My midwife and I decided that if I was still pregnant at 41 weeks, we would get an ultrasound and biophysical done to check on the baby. But once again, baby had his own plans. On Sunday morning, March 27 I woke up at about 7 a.m. to a subtle gush that reminded me of my water breaking with my first son, only it really wasn’t much fluid and unlike last time, I wasn’t able to force more out by pressing on my belly. I rested there with the cat and felt a few contractions come and pass thinking we might finally be in labor. When my husband and son woke up later, I told my husband I thought today might be the day and was overcome with a feeling of readiness that was so reassuring. I didn’t feel stressed in the least. We even called my cousins and asked them to be on standby in case we decided to send our son to their house. I was so sure things were happening. But after a good long walk up hills and home, it was clear this was just another warm up labor and not, in fact, the real thing.

Clearly discouraged and even a little depressed, my parents decided to spend a night at my brother’s house to give me a little space. On Monday they returned because my mom had a dentist appointment right by my house and despite not feeling well, intended to go. She looked pretty exhausted and had really bad stomach issues that we were pretty sure was the same GI bug my brother’s son had recently gotten over. I felt terribly for her and yet was thinking to myself, ‘man, she probably shouldn’t be in my house right now.’

My husband cooked us all dinner and my mom hardly ate anything before going off to bed at 8:30. More than once I thought to myself: ‘great, now after weeks of dodging illness we’re all going to get a GI bug and my labor will be delayed even further!’

Or maybe not… I went to bed myself a couple of hours later and was woken at 2 a.m. or so to a contraction. As I lay there I felt another come and pass… then another and somewhere around 3 a.m., felt a real gush of amniotic fluid. I immediately turned on the light so I could tell whether the water was clear and so I could get to the toilet before the rest of the fluid released (this was exactly how my labor started with my first son). As soon as I stood up I made a puddle on the floor instead. I removed my white sweatpants and used them to clean up the mess and further confirmed there was no meconium staining or obvious reason for concern.

I popped into my son’s room where my husband was sleeping and gave him the news, then decided to just relax in bed and see what happened. I wasn’t getting real strong or regular contractions and wanted to let everyone sleep as long as possible. I felt pretty calm and good until I felt this pulsing sensation low in my pelvis and for some reason immediately worried that it might be his cord. I reached for my perineum and felt something that wasn’t my body. It was really thin and didn’t really feel like a cord to me but it sent me into a brief panic so I decided to call my midwife for her opinion.

Because I had to go downstairs to get her number, I had to wake my dad who had elected to sleep on our couch to give my sick mother some solitude. I assured him I was ok and sent him up to sleep with her while I spoke to my midwife. She convinced me a cord would be unmistakable and upon investigating further it was pretty obvious what I was feeling was probably some amniotic sac (I could even press more fluid out of it.) She asked if I could feel the baby moving and as if on cue, I felt our son turning his head on my cervix and felt him move his foot away from my hand when I played with it on my right side. Now feeling MUCH calmer, I let her off the phone with the agreement I’d call her back when things got more active.

Labor

At that point I had the downstairs to myself. I made myself some toast and decided to sit on the birthing ball and tie up some final work things that I had planned to do that day. I had always planned to work right up until labor began but ended up working from home for the last week of my pregnancy. I had actually just told my boss I planned to make March 29, or the day I hit 41 weeks of pregnancy, my final workday. My stubborn son, the one who insisted on being born an Aries instead of a Pisces like his mama wanted, obviously changed that plan too!

I was casually timing the contractions while finishing up work—ten minutes apart, not quite a minute long—then at approximately 5 a.m. I felt sleepy and like the contractions were mellow enough that I wanted to try and nap. I managed to sleep from about 5 a.m. to 7:30 or so which was great.

Around then the whole family was waking up. My parents decided to take my son out for the morning so my husband and I could have some peace and quiet. I sent my husband back up to nap and spent the morning letting myself labor to the Beatles and picking up here and there. The contractions started out really slow when I first woke but by 11 a.m. they were regularly at least a minute long and between 3 and 7 minutes apart.

I was just jotting down when they started on a pad of paper in between frequent trips to the bathroom and decided I wanted to use the contraction master web site so I could get a fuller picture of my labor patterns. The laptop was on my dining room table by the stereo so I stood behind my son’s highchair, using it for support when a contraction came, kind of grooving out to the Beatles in between. I was honestly having a lovely time.

Sometime really soon after my moving over to the table, the contraction intensity kicked up quite a bit. They were still pretty spaced out – about 8 minutes or so – but much longer and harder to breath through and I was feeling the contractions intensely focused right on my cervix. It felt a bit like someone was driving a hot piece of steel through my cervix at their peak: a lot more intense feeling than my contractions with my first son. Those ones radiated around my lower belly in textbook labor pain fashion. And while they had a peak to them that was quite painful, I didn’t experience any of this cervical sensation with him. I recall wondering if maybe baby #2’s hand was by his head? Something felt different.

At that point I asked my husband to come down and join me and not long after that just got this overwhelming wave of vulnerability and fear that labor was starting to get really fast. My first son’s entire labor and birth lasted 9 hours – I knew this could kick up in intensity quickly.

I decided to call my midwife then and ask her to come over and as soon as I picked up the phone to call her, I started crying. My voice totally gave her the impression I was ten seconds away from pushing and I seriously had her at my door in what felt like minutes. Really, she arrived at about 12-12:30 p.m. Our backup midwife came right behind her.

Of course just having them at the house set my mind at ease and things mellowed out a smidge again. She listened to the baby who sounded great and let me listen too. Checked my blood pressure (120 / 60, higher than it’s ever been but still normal) we checked his position: still ROA / head down.

She did not check my cervix, nor did I ask her to. With both pregnancies, my cervix was only ever checked when I got the urge to push just to be sure I was in fact fully dilated at that point. I had no interest in knowing how dilated I might be: that information always seems discouraging to me rather than helpful and I didn’t see any reason to introduce a possible infection considering my water had broken so preferred to leave that whole region alone.

Around 1-1:30 p.m. my mom returned with my son and two sisters. This was a little unexpected. I had previously told both of them I was ok with them being there for the birth thinking the likelihood they would actually make it was slim. But then the friend I had arranged to be there to take pictures and back up my mom with our son, was a no show and my mom really did need some support since she had been sick the day before.

My midwife checked in with me to make sure I was ok with all the people in the house and I assured her I was. This point is actually my favorite memory of the whole day: My mom, sisters, husband, son and the midwives all sitting around my table chatting and laughing. I was even able to joke, chat and snack with them in between contractions. This was exactly what I envisioned when I thought of a homebirth.

My husband, the midwives and my mom took turns supporting me through contractions and the midwives would periodically check the baby’s heart rate. Every other contraction I had to pee and would go upstairs and hope for some bloody show or signs things with moving along. I got a small amount of blood tinged mucous around 2 p.m. but not much. I asked my midwife when she thought it would be ok to get into the tub and she said, I should feel free to get in whenever I felt drawn to but that it can theoretically slow things down. My demeanor between contractions and how spaced out they were definitely didn’t let on to any of us that things were that far along. So I elected to keep laboring upright, sitting on the couch or standing until my mom made the suggestion to try laying on my left side. She told me later that she made that suggestion thinking that it might help coax the baby into a better position for birth.

Laboring like this was excruciating and after my second contraction in that position I told myself not to stay like that long. But the rest it was allowing me between contractions was too nice to motivate myself to get up so I stayed for a few more. My son was starting to want more of my attention so my mom and sisters decided they would take him out for a walk: my mom saying when she left, “call me when she starts pushing.”

The moment they closed the door, things went from a 5 to ten in intensity. My husband was by my side helping me through a contraction and something happened. I just felt this crazy sensation that I honestly don’t have any good memory of to describe other than to say it felt excruciating and before the contraction even hit its peak, the rest of my bag of waters exploded out of me, I got a serious Charlie horse cramp in my left hamstring and I immediately felt my son’s body move way down and the need to push.

I exclaimed something, “pushing!,” I think. And my midwives jumped up and got the tub cover off and started prepping for the birth. I didn’t want to move because what I was feeling was so intense but when I managed to get a break in between the urge to push, my husband helped me get into the tub.

Time To Push

The water felt amazing! And I pushed with the next contraction on my knees and could tell my son was going to be born pretty quickly. My midwife wanted to do the requisite cervical check and this is when things got really interesting. I was indeed fully dilated and baby boy had turned frank breech.

I think what I said then is, “Is that bad?” or maybe, “what do we do now?” My midwife reassured me we could deliver him, she’s delivered numerous breech babies before, in fact this was one of the things that attracted me to her in the first place not EVER thinking it might be necessary. But then when we checked my son’s heart rate again, his rate had dropped from the 120s to 80-90. This kind of heart rate change is not unusual at this point in labor but it was not comforting given the circumstances. We all agreed it was probably for the best that we transfer and so our backup midwife called 911.

Everything that happened next was a rapid, whirlwind of activity and given my role in all it, I can’t really claim perfect accuracy. All I can tell you is the whole process of my getting in the pool and delivering my son was about 15 minutes. Any pondering how I felt about it all was done later. In the moment, I was on autopilot just doing what felt necessary to deliver my baby or following the suggestions of others. Some of this I only know clearly because I asked what happened after the fact.

My husband called my mom to tell her what was going on and went about gathering up some clothes for me while my midwives discussed whether to get me out of the tub before EMS arrived. They wanted me to breath through the pushing contractions and not actually push, which I was able to do once, maybe twice, but after that it felt damn near impossible to not push that baby out. They both felt like keeping me in the tub would keep me more relaxed and hopefully slow things down: the goal being to avoid me delivering in the ambulance which everyone agreed was the least safe option. They gave me oxygen during this time, had me change positions and the next time they checked my son’s heart rate it was back in the 120s.

At that point my midwife felt things were moving much too quickly to make a section possible even if we were able to make it to the hospital (my son’s entire hips were through my cervix by then: I could feel his butt and testicles about an inch in.) So with his heart rate again where it had been all along, she gave me the go to just push. The backup midwife called back EMS to request that they wait outside until the baby was born.

Not long after that, maybe two-three pushes? His body was entirely out. His head was another story. At that point my mom is there and soon after EMS came in (I guess they didn’t heed our midwives’ request). Getting his body out was remarkably easy and other than the first moment of his hips coming through my perineum, was surprising not painful. I felt most of his body slip out but his head was still inside and I couldn’t feel it at all which totally confused me.

I knew, both because it was instinctual and because I could see my backup midwife’s face in front of me, that we needed to get his head out ASAP. I pushed with everything I had and it seemed nothing was happening. So my husband lifted held me up out of the water so my backup midwife could apply pelvic pressure without my body moving away from her hands in the water. My mom had one leg and an EMS worker had the other while my midwife managed to get her finger in my son’s mouth to get his chin towards his chest (a flexed chin makes birthing the head more difficult). Some combination of all of this got his head out but that time between when his body was out and his head was in felt like an eternity. In reality it couldn’t have been even 5 minutes.

My midwife brought my baby up onto my chest and he immediately looked up at my husband and I but then promptly went limp and clearly wasn’t breathing. They gave him breaths with the resuscitation bag while we talked to him and rubbed him and let the cord stop pulsing. My husband then cut the cord and they brought him over to the couch so everyone there could be assured he was breathing well.

This was unquestionably the hardest part. I was in the tub and couldn’t see anything. My husband talked in my son’s ear while our midwife continued giving him breaths with the bag and an EMS worker warmed him with warm towels/blankets. His heart rate was apparently strong through all of this and he was breathing without help within minutes. Throughout this time, my midwives and one of the EMS workers were giving me updates but I feel like I was in space somewhere. People periodically asked if I was ok, and I said I was but I remember feeling kind of numb. Not scared, somehow knowing he was fine and yet not fully knowing that at the same time. Just stunned I guess.

Because of the crazy eventfulness of it all and the fact that our baby needed help to breath in the beginning, we decided to take advantage of the ambulance and make a trip to the hospital to have a pediatrician make sure my son was ok. The EMS team had brought him into the ambulance before I was even out of the tub so I didn’t get to see him again until they got me out, dried off and into the ambulance. By then everyone was assuring me he was crying vigorously and was completely fine. I finally got him back in my arms and could see that for myself while naked under a pile of blankets on a stretcher.

Postpartum Hospital Transfer

We transferred to Brigham and Women’s hospital over the one where my first son was born because the ambulance could only go to hospitals within city limits. At this point it was only a precaution to make sure Cal’s breathing was ok. He received an APGAR of 10 when we finally got to our room and latched on and was nursing almost immediately. A pediatrician checked him out and said, other than breathing that was a little more rapid than they would like, he seemed perfectly healthy. They just wanted to evaluate him again after four hours to see if his breathing rate returned to normal range and at that point we were free to head back home.

He looked fantastic, super alert and not remotely health compromised to the point where as soon as we had a moment to collect our thoughts it felt beyond unnecessary to even be there. The only sign of what he had gone through were his huge, purple balls and a big bruise on his hip from that being the presenting part during pushing. My midwives noticed his head had some really unusual crowning on the back. His head was shaped kind of like ET’s, which can be typical of a breech baby, but you could also feel this ridge at the back where his fontanel sutures molded. He was facing my rear so I’m sure it was this getting lodged on my pelvic bone that made it so tough to get his head out. Not to mention, we later realized his head was in the 98% in size! (Still is! Doesn’t look like it but baby boy has a big head!)

Our nurse upon checking in was absolutely awesome. Such a nice lady and really laid back, supportive and not judgmental. She was like the bright light of our brief stay at BWH. Sadly we were catching her at the end of her shift so we didn’t get to enjoy her for long. But she was so awesome, I can’t not mention her.

EMS wanted to get Cal and I on the road quickly so I had yet to birth the placenta. As soon as we got in the room my midwife was encouraging me to try and squat and push it out before the OBs started to make their own suggestions.

The idea of squatting at that moment seemed semi impossible but I had Cal on the boob and his sucking got a good contraction going so I was able to push it out pretty easily while reclining. My midwives, my mom and the awesome nurse all checked it out and declared it intact and no one was concerned about the amount of bleeding I had. There was a little membrane left hanging out of me that my midwife gently worked out with her hand in case it was attached to placenta or something. I felt immediately better once the placenta was out!

Moments later an OB, about my age, came in to tell me that, “she would feel better if she could do an internal exam.” Meaning without even looking at the placenta, she wanted to reach both her hands up into my uterus to check for retained placenta. She had two L&D nurses and two midwives telling her that there was absolutely no reason to be concerned about retained placenta but SHE would feel better if I would consent to her sticking her hands inside my body where nothing other than my child had been before. I’m fairly sure my jaw dropped and I flatly refused. Awesome nurse basically schooled her (with back up from the three other trained medical professionals in the room) and that OB hightailed it out of there and fortunately we never saw her again.

I’m still aghast that this woman would even suggest that though. I can’t help but think of a woman in my position with less support or less familiarity with what is appropriate. I can’t imagine why she would subject a woman to that kind of painful, invasive procedure without even a cursory glance at the placenta first to be sure it was medically indicated. It’s insulting if not abusive.

Once that event was behind us, the parade of residents began. At first I wondered if some sort of memo had gone out: ‘hey, homebirth transfer in room 505, anyone want to practice some gyno procedures?’ But after talking with a few other moms that delivered there, I guess this is not so uncommon at teaching hospitals. They came in in pairs and all wanted to check out my under carriage which my midwife had already given me a report on.

I had definitely torn but was also pretty swollen at that point so it was tough to get a really good gage of how bad the tear was. My midwife felt it made best sense to get it repaired by an OB while I was there so that I could be more mobile, more quickly. Plus, she wasn’t positive there was no involvement of rectal muscle, which needs to be stitched.

The line from my parade of residents was: “We think this is going to be a fairly significant repair and that you will not be able to tolerate the procedure without an epidural.” Seriously: No fewer than six residents and two OBs came into my room on at least three occasions and tried to convince me to agree to an epidural (or at least IV morphine) before they attempted to stitch me up. One OB said the only reason why I was able to deliver my breech baby without drugs was because of endorphins and that there was no way I would be able to sit still for stiches using local anesthetic alone because ‘no woman can.’

Of course this part I love, because apparently I’m super woman (I’m not.) But I told them from the very beginning the drugs were completely off the table. Another favorite quote from one guy resident: “Can I ask why you are reluctant to get the epidural?” I can’t even remember what logic I gave him. In my head I was just thinking, “How about you just accept that I just don’t feel that I’ll need one.”

And I really didn’t need one. I had 5 stitches after my first son’s birth and while this tear appeared worse, it didn’t appear to be massively so. In fact there was a lot of debate over what degree it was.

Finally they relented and got ready to stitch me up with lidocaine injections alone. Getting the shots was literally the only discomfort I felt and it was nothing. And because a resident was the one stitching me up, the whole procedure took way longer than it needed to take. I received 8 stitches and it was ultimately concluded I had a borderline 4^th degree tear because there was very minor rectal muscle involvement but generally the tear was pretty shallow. I do suspect it was truly pretty minor even if it was technically a 4^th degree tear. I had no discomfort during recovery and was up running around the next day. I only iced the area once and never felt the need to take ibuprofen.

In hindsight it seemed more like the push to get me to relent to an epidural was so they could guarantee a docile patient for the resident to practice on. I can’t verify that but I’ve had other people confirm my suspicion.

Back at Home

At this point we were ready to head home. I had already been up to pee and felt great compared to my first son’s birth when I had actually had a minor hemorrhage.

My midwife came to pick us up in our car and we were back home by about 9-10 p.m.? My midwives and my family had cleaned up so my husband and I could just relax at that point. We were obviously pretty tired but I was still a little too wired to go to sleep so we sat in the living room for a little while before taking Cal to bed and finally falling asleep a family of four.

It’s been almost a full year since my son was born and I’ve spent a lot of time trying to process it all after the fact. It was just so far from what I had envisioned--as birth always is--and not without its moments that are incredibly hard to think about.

Overall my husband and I are relieved we chose to birth at home and not for any of the reasons why we chose home birth to begin with. And at the same time, I definitely have felt some serious sadness over how far Cal’s welcome into this world was from what I had hoped for him. I’m deeply aware these things go as they go and feel nothing but gratitude for the beautiful, thriving baby boy in my arms and everything giving birth to him has taught me.

The first question I’m always asked though is ‘would I choose home birth again.’ The short answer is not unless our healthcare system changes to the extent where homebirth is covered by health insurance and care can be seamlessly transitioned back and forth between care providers.

I personally found it really stressful having to worry about what procedures may or may not be covered and the fact that in my state (MA), home birth midwives cannot legally carry things like antibiotics.

That said, I do not at all feel like my son’s birth would have been less eventful if we had birthed in a hospital. I think most people assume I would have had a section if I had. But I’ve since had multiple conversations with OBs and the CNM that delivered my first son and it seems we potentially avoided a really scary situation: a care provider faced with a vaginal breech delivery that had never delivered one before.

A common cause of serious injuries from vaginal breech birth is aggressive measures used to deliver an entrapped head. My midwife knew how to deal with that exact complication and because of that, I have a perfectly healthy baby boy who just happens to be a little stubborn about how and when he does things. It’s totally possible I could have had one of the few care providers at my old hospital with the same skillset, but it’s more likely I would have had one who only knew one way to deliver breech: with a scalpel. Trying to shove Cal back through my cervix to deliver him that way does not sound safer to me!

Twin Home Water Birth- A Spiritual, Peaceful Birth

I am so excited to share a twin home birth with you!  I love how this mom includes in her story the importance of her midwife, her husband, and the comfort she found in her spirituality.  Beautiful.  

Birth is both humbling and empowering at the same time--- what perfect words from her.  You can find her blog   here.

Enjoy~

       I have been thinking about the way my boys came compared to the thousands of birth stories I've read in the 9 months before their birthday. this is not a typical, relaxation, breathing, visualization, birth story that you may be expecting to read.


       I had been having contractions at night for about three weeks on and off. Not the BH kind either. Real, crampy, contractions. But they always fizzled out. I killed them with a protein shake and peanut butter and RASPBERRY jam jelly sandwich some nights. Man, I'm going to miss those. I wanted those guys to stay put as long as possible, but at the same time I trusted that when the contractions didn't stop that they were letting me know it was getting crowded in there.


       In my 38th week I was feeling great most of the time. My 22m old, Fynn,  could probably take only one nap a day by now, but I always encouraged an afternoon nap due to my heavy belly.  We had just gotten home from errands and lunch together. We laid down for our nap that Friday afternoon and I slept very hard. I woke up before he did, of course, to go to the bathroom. 

     When I stood up it was evident that someone's waters had broken. In those first few moments there are so many emotions that take over at once it is like you are on drugs. It is hard to collect yourself after such a message from your body. "Hi, we are about to have some babies tonight." I made the phone calls to husband and midwife and started to gather things to head to our birth location, my midwives cottage. We live in a very remote area with no hospitals nearby. We chose to birth at my midwifes cottage that was about 5 minutes from a hospital if transfer was necessary.
   
     From my previous labour I started to worry that I would not start any contractions and infection would become a worry that, in turn, could start the ball rolling toward intervention. Something I did not want. Those worries were stopped immediately when I felt strong surges while giving Fynn a bath. I must say that he was my best distraction while getting through the first stage of labor.
   
       My husband was at work several hours away, by that I mean four hours away! He immediately headed home. My brother-in-law was four hours away in the opposite direction and he was on his way to stay with Fynn through the night. I wanted to take these hours to get through the first stage of labor peacefully and especially spend time with my sweet baby boy. Fynn had taken me to lunch earlier and I sat and thought of how perfect the day had been. We talked about the babies coming home and practiced holding a stuffed bear. 

      After a bath we were both getting a little anxious about Daddy getting home. It was 9:30pm when I finally saw that excited, perfect smile of my Husband's. I immediately felt another surge, but not a contraction this time. It was the love hormone overwhelming me and I could not believe he and I were about to experience such an amazing miracle together. The same guy that asked if he could kiss me only 4 years ago. Life changing kiss. For some reason this is the memory that came to mind when I saw him.
   
      I felt us unite as a team as we got in the car beaming with excitement. Fynn was perfect entertainment on our 45 minute drive to Ft.Smith. Halfway there I hit active labor. I could feel my body progressing rapidly. I tried my best to relax and let it do it's work. We arrived at the cottage around 10:30pm to find several people working on the gas leak! I had just enough time to go in the cottage, say my good-byes to Fynn, and rest while Adam met my brother-in-law outside to send our baby on his way back home. There he could play with Uncle Drew and have his own bed.

      After around 10 minutes my midwife, D, decided to move locations. We got back in the car and drove only a few blocks to settle in at her home. It was so comfortable there. The instant that I walked in I was put at ease from the sudden change. Thank you gas leak! For some reason I wanted to labor in the bathroom. 

     This was the most intense part the whole experience. I could not get into a position that felt right. I was scaring myself and my husband. I was not quiet, I was not calm, I was in transition. D and some helpers were setting up the birthing pool and living room for me. When I opened the bathroom door I saw a huge rock fireplace with a soothing fire going, the pool being filled, the furniture had disappeared. Everything was ready for me. "If only I could be as calm as this room.", I thought. 
  
       Here we go. When I got in the tub it was around 11:45pm. I would love to share to all that I felt so much comfort from the pool, but I was way past the point of feeling any comfort. D checked me and quickly said "There is a baby right there." I was in a little shock at how fast this was going. I wanted to rest. I wanted to hit pause for just one minute to gather myself. I remember trying to open my eyes. I would focus on Adam and tell him "I wish I could stay here. I wish I could focus." And then another surge would hit me so hard I would go back into some lost place, fighting the pain and switching positions. 

       I felt like a fish in a bowl swimming away from a net. I was trying my best to escape from pain. Relaxation was my escape but I couldn't get there.  K, my midwife's assistant was there at the pool with me. I remember her saying "Beth, blow out." After I did this I started to feel some type of control and that was the moment I first felt the urge to push. I tried my best to do gentle pushes. I didn't feel like my body was ready for delivery. This was probably just me still in shock. I would get through each contraction pushing and telling myself to let go. Not hold back. Trust that it was time.

         In a few contractions I felt the famous "ring of fire" and once again I tried to fight the pain instead of relax. I put my hand down to feel if this was going to actually be possible. Because the way I was feeling it just didn't seem like it. With the next push I supported myself and felt a little better. K was also helping me with this. It make me feel more at ease about tearing. Now I could push with confidence. 
        
        At 12:06am baby A's head was born. D asked Adam if he was going to catch him. Adam got into position and I've never seen him so excited and happy. Cheering me on in saying "You are doing it Beth! You are doing it!" in the best strong whisper voice. We waited on the next contraction with a pure joy, a feeling of excitement that I can't put into words. When it came Graham slipped out and Adam pulled him up slowly out of the water onto my chest. We burst in to laughter and tears all in one. 

       He was rubbed like a little puppy to clear his lungs. He let out the most healthy cry. He was beautiful. I was amazed. We gawked over him for a few minutes while K tied yarn to his foot and to his placenta clamp for identification. My contractions lulled for me to bond. I kept praising Jesus saying "Thank  you for rest. Thank you for rest." while I fell in love with my new bundle. It was a wonderful bonding time, but not long enough to breast feed like I had hoped.  After only 4 or 5 minutes I was overwhelmed with the next surge. Adam took Graham. I had more work to do. It was Nolan's turn.

      
       I remember rolling over on my side in the water with the first contraction thinking " Most women are finished now and I have to keep going." in the most whinny, pitiful voice you can imagine. I felt so sorry for my self for a second. This just cracks me up now! haha. From having the time of rest after Graham was born, I felt gathered. The next contraction I concentrated on what my body was doing. 

      For the first time I could actually feel my baby moving down with each push. I felt the progress with such detail. Nolan was working with my contractions and making his way down fast. Once again I felt the "ring of fire" and knew that the next push he would be making his way to my arms.  His head was born and Adam was ready once again, passing Graham off to K. He brought him out of the water with the next contraction at 12:23am. Nolan was so little. He wasn't as perky as Graham. We rubbed him down good and he started to protest with little cat cries. D gave him a few puffs of oxygen to help him out. His eyes were so alert right from the start. He was so captivating I could not take my eyes off his.

      I thanked God that I was a woman in that moment. Praise God that he allowed me be a woman so I could experience this euphoric event! I think this is called humbled empowerment.  Nolan laid on my chest and I felt like I had just won the world's longest marathon. And had won the world's greatest trophies!

Graham Emmitt Phillips 6lbs 14oz. Nolan Dean Phillips 5lbs 7oz.

          

            My midwife made all the difference in this experience. If you notice her "name" is hardly mentioned in all of this. That is how you know she is wonderful. She believes in birth. She believed in me. She watched over like a guardian. What a wonderful and important occupation. If this was a story about my prenatal and postnatal care then you would get tired of seeing D this and D that. She took such great care of my body. She educated me and encouraged me for 5 months. Then she nursed me and served me after birth. The extensive care that she and K gave me is unmatched by anyone out there. Forever grateful. 

       In the most intense times of my labor I would hear the Holy Spirit say "Let me help. Let me be here with you." I fought so hard. I fought the pain, the positions, and the Presence of Jesus. It wasn't until I could let go and allow help that my body would progress. It was a very fast labor that was shocking to me. The deliveries, on the other hand, was shocking in a whole different way. I could not believe my capacity to love! 

       Most of all, I could not have done and of this without my Husband. Every time I would get scared I would open my eyes and see the joy and pride on his face. He had full faith in me every single second of my work. I would see him and want to do better. Something happened in my marriage that night. It made me realize what it means to become one. We created life and then welcomed it into the world. Together. 

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you,
                                  -Isaiah 43:2a

A LOOOOOONNNNG Home Birth- Because Birthing Naturally Isn't Always Easy

You know what-  I think everybody should read this birth story.  Why?  Because it is real and raw and long and HARD.  And she still did it.  I love short crazy birth stories too, but I think that sometimes everybody preparing to have a baby wants that so much, they forget that it rarely happens.  Labor is called labor because it is WORK.  Sweet, rewarding, difficult at times, yet manageable work.  And this story shows that-

Enjoy!

Birth Story: Benjamin Luke

June 9, 2009 11:57 am

8 lbs, 20.5 inches

June 3: 39w4d

In the evening, J noticed something funny was going on with his watch.  We had been discussing when we thought this baby would come out! The date number on his watch was slowly switching from 3 to 9 and back.  Back and forth.  It did this several times before J called me over to take a look.  We asked each other “Is this some sort of sign?  Is someone trying to tell us something?”  We started saying out loud “All right!  We get it!  Baby is coming on the 9^th!  You can stop messing with the watch now!”  The date number stopped changing.

June 6: 40w

My due date came and although I was really hoping to have the baby, I knew that I would go over.  I had known that I would go late for the whole pregnancy and had the date June 12^th in my mind.  Still, the due date was worth noting and I sent a picture out to family and posted on mt blog.  We spent the Saturday at home, doing general household chores and light cleaning. 

That night, after our evening walk with our dog, I noticed some cramping and back spasms starting. They were painful, but not overwhelming and I could breathe through them.  This excited us a little bit because we knew something was happening, but we also decided not to get TOO excited because this was probably just prodromal labor. 

The back spasms continued all night long, lasting about a minute and anywhere from 10 to 20 minutes apart.  I couldn’t sleep through them and trying to lie down on the bed through them was excruciating.  I ended up feeling one coming on, standing up and either swaying through it next to the bed or kneeling beside the bed and rocking my hips back and forth.  I found that if I focused on my breathing I could get through them much easier.  The pain would peak around breath 4 and the contraction would be over by breath 11 or 12.  After each contraction I would go to the bathroom and then try to sleep again. 

June 7

The back contractions lasted all day and all night.  Baby was also wide awake and kicking or squirming the majority of the night as well, making it difficult to sleep even when I wasn't having contractions.  I spent a lot of time on the yoga ball bouncing through them and we got our car seat inspected and went shopping a bit.  Having contractions in the checkout lines at the stores was a little intimidating, because I didn’t want people to notice that I was in pain. 

That night, I sent an email to the other grad students in my lab telling them that I would not be in the next day.  Even if this wasn’t labor, I couldn’t imagine trying to drive myself to Ann Arbor through these spasms that were now consistently 5-10 minutes apart, although not any longer than a minute and no more intense. 

June 8

My alarm went off at 6:30am and I asked J if he was going to go into school that day.  He debated about it and eventually decided that he wasn’t going to go in and left to send an email to his administrator.  I had another contraction and when I went to the bathroom I found that I had lost a small chunk of my mucus plug.  I called J back in and told him what a good decision it was that he was staying home: this was definitely labor! 

It was a rainy, cruddy day so we took a video to document our progress and called Kate, our midwife, to let her know what was up.  We decided that we’d call her again when we wanted her to check me for dilation and set up.  All morning we sat around the living room, watching TV and surfing the internet.  I would sit on the couch with a pillow before me and the yoga ball in front of that.  When a contraction was coming, I would drop to my knees and hang over the yoga ball, rocking back and forth and trying to relax through the spasm.  All the contractions were still in my back, so we were pretty sure the baby was positioned posterior.  

We called Kate and she suggested we work through the positions described on www.spinningbabies.com, which we did.  Some of those positions called for me to lie on my side or back through contractions, which was really hard as this made the pain much worse.  I would ask J for counter-pressure on my tailbone during contractions, doing this for what ended up being 30 hours was something he got VERY tired of. 

I took a bath to help me relax through the contractions and the warm water did help to ease the sensations.  After a while, though, I got very sick of being in the water and decided to get out.  I also didn’t want labor to stall, so I figured every contraction I had and moved through would get me closer to having this baby. 

We called Kate to come over around 3:30pm after contractions were increasing in frequency and intensity.  Unfortunately, at that time we were also under a tornado watch and a strong storm was just about to burst over our house.  We laughed to each other that the baby was going to be born during a tornado down in our basement.  We moved down into the basement for a time while the tornado sirens were going off.  A little after they stopped, Kate came over and started to set up everything in the bedroom for the birth.  

J helped her out and I took another bath.  She told us we were doing great and to keep trying the Spinning Babies positioning techniques to help turn the baby and stop the pain in my back.  She cautioned us to try to conserve my strength and to let J help me as much as possible through contractions.  Then she left to get a nap and dinner with her family.  She would be back when we thought we needed her to be there.

I only ate some smoothie left over from the day before at the bequest of J and Kate. This is when things begin to get fuzzy for me and I can't quite remember all the details due to my trip to LaborLand. I do remember that we called Kate back around 6:30 and asked her to check my dilation.  She asked what number would make us disappointed and I said “Anything more than 1 cm would be good.”  She laughed and said that gave her lots to work with.  

In my mind, though, I was really hoping to hear something like 5 or 6 cm, just because I was working so hard and trying to relax and open through these contractions that I should have made SOME progress, right?  Kate checked me and it was very uncomfortable.  She said that I was a 2.5-3, fully effaced and my cervix was anterior.  She could feel the baby’s head and everything seemed good.  

I was a little disappointed to hear that number, and it didn’t make things any better when the next contraction was more intense due to the vaginal exam.  Kate said we were doing great and that we were definitely making progress, as several things had to happen before the baby could come out.  I had already finished effacing and moving my cervix posterior to anterior, now all I had to complete was dilation and then we could push this baby out.  That gave me a little hope, but I was still getting tired of the pain. 

After this I have no real concept of what time it was when things happened.  I know Keisha, our midwife’s apprentice, showed up sometime later that evening around 10pm.  I remember having contractions out in the living room while J, Kate, and Keisha talked and laughed, but I was completely in LaborLand and couldn’t pay attention to the conversation (something about bats and maple syrup and fungus?).  I remember asking at one point how far apart the contractions were and being told 5-7 minutes.  This surprised me as I thought for sure they were at least 20 minutes apart and I was stalling out. 

At midnight, J wanted me to be checked again but I resisted.  I was afraid that I wouldn’t have made any progress and I didn’t want to hear it.  I thought if I could just have an hour of really good contractions I could make some real progress and feel better about the number.  Finally, at 1 am, I gave in and asked Kate to check me again.  This time I was a 5.5-6 and that made me REALLY disappointed.  

I thought for sure that I would be further along than that.  Kate also told us that the baby’s head was no longer engaged directly on my cervix, it was slightly tilted, which was slowing things down.  However, she was fairly certain that the baby had rotated to an anterior position by this time and the pain I was feeling in my back was from a little elbow that was stuck around my tailbone.  She suggested that we go back to trying the Spinning Babies positioning techniques, especially ‘The Dangle’.

That is the worst position EVER.  J and I had tried it earlier in the afternoon but I wasn’t able to have a full contraction through it as the pain in my back got SO INTENSE.  Now that Kate and Keisha were here, I was able to dangle on J’s lap while they applied counter-pressure to my back to make things bearable.  Then we got into the shower thinking that might help and it did, to a point, until I got sick of being in the water again.  

 J and I got into bed to try to side-lying and frog positions until we couldn’t think of anything else to do.  We walked out of the bedroom and Kate and Keisha were sleeping, resting up for what they probably knew was going to be a long labor.  We asked Kate what else we could do and she suggested we walk around the house.  Thank goodness for J during this time, he led me around while I kept my eyes closed, walking slowly through our house.  I would stop for a contraction, leaning over our kitchen island or the banister next to the front door, or just bending over and asking for “Pressure! Pressure! Pressure!” 

Eventually I ended up back on the yoga ball with J behind me.  I would roll around and rock my hips in LaborLand while J, zombie-like, would sleep between contractions, rousing enough when I asked him for pressure to help me out, then fall back asleep.  Eventually, Kate and Keisha sent him into the bedroom to get some rest while they helped me with contractions.  This was around 4 or 5 am on June 9.  I told myself “The watch was right.  We’re going to have this baby on the 9^th.  That’s pretty freaky stuff.”  

Then I told myself I wanted to have the baby by 6 am so that the pain would go away. 

After J went into the bedroom for some rest, I slow-danced with Keisha during contractions and Kate gently rubbed my back.  The baby had moved down enough that there wasn’t any actual ‘pain’ in my back, just the residual spasm.  I remember asking them how much longer they thought I had, as I was getting pretty exhausted and I knew I still had to push the baby out.  Kate replied that she thought I was in late transition and that gave me a little hope as everything I had read about transition was that it feels horrible and hopeless and awful but that in actuality it passes pretty quickly and then it would be time to push the baby out.  

I don’t know how long I was in the darkened living room with Kate and Keisha, rocking through contractions.  They gave me some arnica sometime in there to help with the bruising they knew I had from all the counter-pressure and also reminded me to eat and drink something between contractions.    I remember Keisha remarking after one contraction that there were deer in our backyard, a whole herd of them.  I could hear the birds starting to sing and knew that it was the morning of the day my baby was going to be born.  

I can't remember when J woke up, but shortly after that I asked to be checked again.  I was starting to feel that I had to push with a contraction, although it felt more like I had to poop than anything else.  This time Kate said I was 8.5-9 with a little lip of cervix left.  At this point I knew I needed some help to get things moving along before I lost all my strength, so I asked her to rupture my membranes.  

I had initially planned to go all natural, without any interventions, but I knew I needed to get things moving along.  On my next contraction, Kate broke my membranes and I felt a big gush of water spill out and onto the blue pads they had lined the bed with.  I immediately asked if the water was clear and Kate told me there was no meconium, which made me feel better.  The baby's heart tones had stayed consistently in the 140-150 range throughout the night and they continued like that for the rest of labor.  I think they checked heart tones a lot more frequently after my water broke. 

The contractions after my water was broken were more intense than before and strange: they were part contraction as I had been having but another part of it seemed to be my body pushing.  I resisted the urge to push for as long as I could because I didn't want that last lip of cervix to become inflamed and slow labor even more.   Still, at times, I just had to push and would groan through it as my whole body contracted.  I don't know how long it took before I was ready to push, but thinking back on it I don't think it was very long.  

Once I was pushing, things seemed to move faster for a time.  J has told me that I began pushing at 9 am and the first hour went really well.  I pushed on my left side, on my back, on hands and knees, on the toilet.  It was during a contraction on the toilet that I lost control for the 2nd time and started to panic.  It was so intense and I let it get ahead of me.  I started making higher pitched noises and clutching at the cabinet above the toilet.  Keisha came into the bathroom and helped talk me through that contraction, for which I was really grateful. 

During this time, Kate was concerned about my tissues swelling and she and Keisha did a lot of manual support.  Keisha would hold one leg high while Kate would push on the upper part of my hip to help open the pelvis and allow the head to pass through.  J gathered supplies for them and applied cold compresses between contractions.  Eventually, Kate grabbed my hand and told me "Feel here, it's your baby!"  I could feel the head about a knuckle's length inside.  Kate, Keisha, and J kept telling me "She's coming!  The baby's coming!  I can see her head!  You're doing great!"  Throughout the labor Kate and Keisha were convinced the baby was a girl, so they kept saying 'she' and J joined in. 

 

Kate helped me direct my pushing and Keisha would remind me during contractions to push out through my bottom and to relax everything else.  Between contractions, they would have me sip from a cup of Powerade.  It was orange and tasted just like Tang.  I love Tang.  I would push and push during contractions, making all sorts of noises until I couldn't push any more.  

Between contractions I would try to get my breathing under control, sip some Tang, and beg them to let me put my leg down.  My hip and tailbone would spasm in pain between contractions which was the worst part.  Pushing itself was hard work but didn't hurt.  When the baby began to crown, they told me to hold the push there and allow my tissues to stretch and to breathe through the burning.  I don't remember feeling any burning sensation.  I do remember feeling hopeless, like the baby was never going to come out, no matter how hard I pushed.  I think I asked once "How much longer?" with some desperation.  This baby was never coming out and I was going to be in pain forever. 

J told me later that the first hour of pushing went really well and that I made lots of progress.  It was enough that Kate said to him that we should have the baby very soon.  After that, though, I must have exhausted myself, because there was another 2 hours of pushing before he would be born.  J says that it was discouraging for him to see the baby's head be pushed to the same point at each contraction only to slip back inside when the contraction ended.  Kate told me later that she considered an episiotomy near the end because it didn't seem possible that I could get the head out when the tissues were so swollen already. 

When I began pushing, Kate told me to pay attention to the sensation after the head came out and to really feel the body slip from mine.  I remember pushing and pushing and pushing and screaming and groaning and making all sorts of horrible noises while hearing encouragement from everyone when all of a sudden there was a feeling of release of pressure and the head was out!  

THANK GOD.  Even though I knew it would take until the next contraction for the body to position itself to come out, I still kept pushing.  I wanted that baby out NOW, DAMMIT!  J was there and caught the head.  The cord was wrapped around the neck three times and around the shoulder once, but was easily slipped off and before I knew it, the little wiggly body was out and there was a screaming person on my chest. 

J says that he was so convinced that the baby was a girl that he didn't even check for gender, just looked to see if there were 10 fingers and toes.  Finally, Kate said to him "Congratulations, Daddy: you have a son"  I looked up then in time to see J say "It's a boy!?  Really!?" with such a look of joy and wonder on his face.  The only other time I'd seen that look on his face was on our wedding day.  He teared up a little bit and was beaming with pride.  He grabbed the video camera and took a quick video of us naming Ben and soothing him when he was just minutes old.  

Kate and Keisha were busy cleaning everything up while we waited for the cord to stop pulsing, then J got to cut the cord and deliver the placenta.  That was pretty gross as a lot of fluid came out with the placenta.  A lot of this time is blurry to me as I was plain exhausted and was just paying attention to the screaming infant on my chest. 

After a short time, Keisha got everything ready to weigh him.  He weighed in at 8 lbs even and was 20.5 inches long. Keisha dressed him in the outfit that J was brought home from the hospital in back in 1984.  That was a pretty nice touch that we could pass that outfit on.  Kate sutured me as I had torn (2nd degree) during the very last part.  After everything was cleaned up, Keisha brought me a mug of tea and Kate brought us yogurt with bananas and strawberries for our first breakfast as a family.  J and I ate together in bed while Kate and Keisha finished cleaning up the house and then they left us around 3 pm.  

I'm very glad that I was able to have the homebirth I wanted.  While it was not exactly what I had envisioned, I'm happy that I worked through everything and had a drug-free, natural birth.  I did wish for an epidural and drugs during the peak of labor, but thinking back on it I'm not sure that they would have helped and may have even lengthened my labor. In the end, this was the birth I was meant to have.

When I wrote this birth story, Ben was almost 3 weeks old.  We had some issues with breastfeeding and impetigo, but things started looking up now and getting better every day.  He's the most beautiful person I've ever seen and I fall in love with him more and more every day.  I can't believe that we shared a body for 9 months and now he's here in the world.  It doesn't seem possible on the one hand but on the other it seems as though he's always been here.