Hidden Tigers

When we were expecting the Boodge, we took a fantastic "Birthing From Within" prenatal class through Dancing Star Birth in Vancouver. The class was based on the book Birthing from Within by Pam England and Rob Horowitz, which I highly recommend to anyone expecting a baby. It's a holistic guide to childbirth, taking into account that it is not just a physical journey but also a psychological and spiritual one. It offers women and their helpers many tools to confront the fears and misconceptions that may hinder birthing, and achieve a birth where they feel in control of an important rite of passage in their lives.

In one class, our facilitator, Sarah, pulled out a little statue of a cave-woman and another one of a tiger. "This woman is labouring in the woods, and she smells and hears this tiger coming. What do you think will happen to her labour?" Sarah explained that fear would stop the woman's labour, giving her time to get to a place of safety. As Birthing From Within explains:

Fear activates the nervous system to produce adrenalin, which fuels the 'fight or flight' response. This increases heart and respiratory rates and shunts bloods away from the internal organs (including the uterus) to the large muscles. Increased levels of adrenalin also neutralize the effect of oxytocin (the hormone responsible for stimulating uterine contractions).

This didn't come as a surprise to me. As a student of psychology, I generally believe that the body is affected strongly by the mind. But as Birthing From Within also explains, the nervous system does not know the difference between real or imagined "tigers". "That is why it's important to bring your images, beliefs, and fears to conscious awareness, where you can tame, eliminate, or even harness them."

My belief in the power of the mind, and my view of birthing as a rite of passage, was also why I chose midwifery care rather than the medical model. I couldn't imagine treating my pregnancy like I would treat a medical condition, with regular 15 minute check-ups that addressed only the physical. My midwife gave me an hour of her time each time I went, answering any questions I had, checking in about my emotions, my support system, my relationship with my husband, my stress level at work. She asked questions about the messages I had received about birthing so that she could understand any misconceptions I may have. She also went over all the physical aspects of birthing and the possible medical interventions in a way that educated me and offered me the ability to choose what I wanted.

But much as I prepared myself psychologically through our class, with my midwife, and on my own, I didn't anticipate what my "tigers" would be during labour. In hindsight, if seems obvious. I've always had the problem of being a "pleaser", trying to accommodate other people in spite of what I may prefer. This came into play even prior to the birth, as the women in my life expressed their desire to witness the event.

My mother, a trained Doula, wanted to be my support person. She was understanding when I told her that I may not feel comfortable having someone so close to me, who would likely be bothered by my pain and anxious in any complications, be the person I leaned on. Instead, I suggested she witness the birth. My mother-in-law and cousin wanted to be present at the birth too. Though I was comfortable with my cousin being there, I was less at ease with my mother-in-law watching, so in the end I turned them both down so that my mother-in-law wouldn't feel singled out. But, wanting to please, I told them that they, too, could be at my apartment during the labour so that they could come in as soon as the baby was born.

I was beginning to feel like my labour was going to be a spectator sport, and joking that I should sell tickets. But I ignored my uneasiness, as well as the warnings I had read in Birthing from Within that birthing was as private as making love or going to the bathroom. I thought I could overcome my discomfort. So there I was during labour in a small 2 bedroom apartment with my husband, my doula, my mother, mother-in-law, and cousin.

Before everyone came around noon, I was making great progress just relaxing in the tub and the bed. My midwife checked me and I was 4 cm, and she was very pleased. But as the afternoon wore on, my tigers began creeping up on me. My doula urged me to walk the stairs of our building and the sidewalk outside to get things moving. We had just moved, and I was afraid of running into our stodgy building manager or meeting a new neighbour while in labour--but I agreed, not wanting to offend. My mother was in the kitchen cooking up a nervous storm, and with my heightened senses I cringed every time I heard the knife crunching through the celery. When a contraction came and I started moaning, I would notice her come out of the kitchen and stand in the doorway watching me until it passed.

Meanwhile, the other "ladies in waiting" were in the adjoining office, trying to be unobtrusive. But I noticed that they had nowhere comfortable to sit, and they were whispering. About what? How long was this going to take, I wondered, and should I move to the bedroom so they could use the living room? Overall, I felt annoyed, conspicuous and on display. And then somewhere in all this, my Dad called.

I hadn't told my Dad I considering a home birth, because I knew that like most doctors, he would be against the idea. I didn't want that fear put into me, so difficult as it was not to share with him, I decided to just tell him about my birth once it was over. But he called during the labour, and Sean told him I was in labour, so felt like I needed to call him back. When I did, he figured out I was having a home birth and expressed his disapproval right then and there.

My contractions had started around 2:30am, and it was now 6pm. My doula had called the midwife over to check me, as things had been moving along well. But I had only dilated 2 more centimeters, and by the time she finished setting up for the birth, my intense contractions had stopped and I was alert and talking just like in early labour. I had stalled. She and the doula conferred and sent my waiting ladies out to get dinner. While they were gone, my midwife asked me if I really wanted all these people in my apartment. "Oh, it's OK." I replied.

"Is it really OK? Or are you just letting them be here to be nice?" I admitted that I felt pressure to get on with the show, not to keep them waiting any longer. She suggested that I send them home and call them when I started pushing. After she and the doula communicated this to them, she went home herself and instructed me to just do whatever felt right. So I lay down in bed with Sean and just relaxed. I didn't try to do anything to get labour moving. And within an hour, it picked up again and I was on my way. At 12:30 am that night, I finally delivered my baby.

Now, preparing for my second birth, I'm trying to anticipate my tigers. I know the one about feeling watched, and having too many people around. And I anticipate that if I feel like the Boodge isn't OK, I may not be able to relax. For this reason I feel like I won't go into labour until my mom arrives on the 13th of October, because she is the person (aside from my husband) that I trust most fully with Boodge. I've also told my doula that much as I want to labour at home for as long as possible, if I find myself too distracted by how my son is doing, I may have to go to the hospital earlier than anticipated.

The hospital, because there is a tiger in having a home birth again. I loved my home birth, and I would defend any woman's right to have one. Research indicates that they are just as safe as hospital births in normal, healthy pregnancies and labours assisted by a regulated midwife. But as I've mentioned before, Boodge was born with "wet lung" and we had to go to the hospital right away, where he spent his first 30 hours in an incubator. Though he was getting enough air and it was not a dire emergency, it was scary. Since the hospital is 1/2 an hour away this time, I don't want to take any risks. Labour and pushing was fine for me, and I feel confident that I can handle the pain (assuming that it will be somewhat similar to last time). But I don't want to be worrying about what will happen when the baby comes out, and I think that will be easier in the hospital.

On the other hand, I have reservations about the hospital. There will be people involved in my care that I've never met before, and I've heard that the wrong nurse can really have an impact on labour. Also, though we'll have access to emergency care if necessary, I don't want to feel pressured into getting any care that isn't necessary. If Boodge had been born in a hospital, I might have been told I was "failing to progress" when I stalled, instead of someone understanding that psychological factors were involved. Also, he likely would have been taken from me immediately after birth. As it was, I at least got about 45 minutes at home to hold him, sing to him, and try to nurse him. Those 45 minutes meant the world to me and consoled me when I felt, for myself and him, the horrible emptiness of being suddenly separated from the one who had been in my womb for so long. For this birth, I long to have that experience so many women talk about, where your baby is just put in your arms, perfectly healthy, and you nurse and cuddle and feel the bliss of new love.

We have been to the hospital though, and the birthing unit seems excellent and geared towards empowering women to make their own choices, and staying out of the way of her caregivers. Having a midwife as my caregiver also helps me feel comfortable that at least my preferences have been asked about and will be honored if at all possible. So I'm going to just try to be assertive if I need to be, and focus on my job of birthing my baby rather than the millions of possibilities of what can go wrong when it comes out.

Overall, I feel pretty confident in my ability to birth this baby and deal with whatever comes up in the process. But labour is such a wild card, and the stakes are so high. I wonder if there are any hidden tigers this time, and if I'll be better at sniffing them out than I was in my first labour. I'm interested in hearing about the tigers that affected you out there, reading this. How did fear, or discomfort, affect your labour? And how did you sniff it out and get to a place of safety?

When the Clouds Part.....

My body is in training to survive on less sleep. It's Saturday morning, and Sean and Boodge are still sleeping, cuddled together blissfully in Boodge's bed after a week of business-trip separation. Me? I woke up at 6 when Boodge cried out, maybe having a nightmare, and couldn't get back to sleep. The night before last, I was up from 2:30 to 5:30 am with Boodge, who for some reason just couldn't get back to sleep after waking in the night. He wanted too, that was clear, and he was really trying, but he tossed and turned and headbutted and asked for this and that. I was so looking forward to Sean coming home and taking back the nighttime duty so I could sleep.

But the funny thing is I feel fine. Happy even. I'm here in my quiet morning, my man is home, my toddler is curled up happy with his daddy, and my family feels bliss. It's amazing what a difference hormones can make in a week. This pregnancy is giving me a whole new perspective on the chemical bases for depression. One week, I'm irritable and everything seems dark, and sleeplessness makes me rabid. The next, it's all wonderful and manageable again. The body truly is a finely tuned mix. I'm glad for this experience, which will certainly help me empathize when I go back to counselling work.

Not that I believe depression is all chemical and should be medicated all the time. I tend to be averse to medication in general, and I still believe that depression usually originates in something that is going on, or has gone on, in a person's life. Pregnancy, even a planned and wanted one, can certainly be cause for dark emotions. Change is scary, and often comes with fear. When we get stuck in the fear, and resist the change, that's when depression can happen. Especially as the resistance continues, and with it the regret that seeps in as we continue to be unhappy with the current situation, but feel helpless to make it different. What you resist persists. And I suppose as the situation persist, body chemistry adjusts to the new normal and keeps the depression going.

When I feel depression coming on, I try to open my door to it, because I have learned the longer I fight it, the longer it lasts. Only when I accept that this is where I am can I begin to crawl out of it. I love this poem by Rumi, "The Guest House".

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

I try to live that way, though sometimes it's harder than others. So though I try to keep this blog positive, when one of those rude guests arrives, I'll try to write about it too, and search for the lesson that it is bringing.

But for now, I'm going to join my family in bliss. Boodge woke up and I crawled into his bed with him and his dad. "I want to cuddle!" he proclaimed, and snuggled in between his parents, smiling joyfully. We all hugged and kissed and told each other how happy we were to be together. Then we got out of bed and Sean put on his new CD and he and Boo rocked in the kitchen. Boodge gave Sean his birthday present, this beautiful picture.


Sean gave Boo the ball he got him at the airport. Boo said he wanted to get naked, and once he was he lay down in the sunbeam, content as a sleepy kitty cat.

I am truly one of the luckiest women in the world, and I can't wait to meet the newest love in my life, my latest blessing, my baby Peanut.

Insomnia

It's 3:48 in the morning. I'm not awake by choice. That would be insane, considering I'll have to be up for the day in a few hours and then my day will require me to have patience and kindness towards my son. He's only two, after all, and it's not his fault that his mother is full of raging hormones. Hormones that keep me up and set my mind racing in directions I don't want it to go.

Today was one of those days where I felt like I was on the emotional edge all day, ready to spill over into anger and tears if the littlest thing happened. And it did, of course. Three phone calls too close together, screwing up what I was trying to get done and starting Boodge whining for attention. The store we finally got out the door to go to unexpectedly closed for renovations. And even worse, the news that my husband has to go away for work all next week, leaving me on my own with a 34-week belly and a 2-year-old. I'm getting to pregnant for this.

I just read on some forum, "Pregnancy is the loneliest feeling in the world." It resonated with me, though I was surprised to feel that way. In my fantasies pregnancy is a blissful, miraculous time where my family joyfully anticipates the blessing that is growing in my body. And it is that, to be sure. But also, it's a time when the only person who really understands what I'm going through is me. Me, and maybe any women who has been pregnant in the past.

But we all experience this change uniquely. Nobody else can share the feeling of sheltering this new life in this particular body under these particular circumstances. Nobody else has to anticipate the awesome responsibility of birthing a vulnerable new being. All life and death type encounters, I suppose, remind us of our own isolation as much as they remind us that we are all connected in some essential ways.

How do I explain it to someone, in the hope of reaching out for support? How the hormones can shift and suddenly I am not in control of how I'm feeling and reacting. How I go about my daily tasks of taking care of my home and my child, playing endless rounds of ball, making meals, paying bills, cleaning up, shopping, pushing the swing, comforting the bumps, cheering for the new tricks, waiting out potty trips, and all the time a part of my mind is somewhere only I can go. When did the baby last move? What will the birth be like? Will the baby be OK? Will I be OK? When will it happen? How will I handle the sleeplessness with a toddler? What if Sean has to travel? How will a second baby affect our marriage? How can I get a break from all this questioning? All the unknowns fill my mind, and I try to answer them, but there are no answers.

My life, and my family's is about to change profoundly. It is by choice, yes, and it's an incredible blessing. I am lucky in so many ways, stable, supported, loved. I am grateful. But that doesn't take away the fear of the unknown that comes with such a change, and the frantic and fruitless human urge to predict and control the possibilities. In carrying a baby, I carry all of that unknown too, and it's scary. So I lie awake, because in the daytime I have to try to be strong, patient, kind, and loving. I have to do my part to steer my family through this transition smoothly. So at night, when I get to be alone, my mind sets to worrying.

Things always look better in the morning. It's now after 5am and things are looking better already. So I'm off to bed. I think I can sleep now, and I hope I can get a couple more hours. I want this blog to be a positive space, but sometimes, things feel heavy, and releasing that heaviness is positive. Honestly sharing anxieties that I know other women, and even expecting fathers, experience too, is positive. This ones for all those pregnant, anxious Mama's who may be reading this in their own insomnia. You're not alone, although it may sometimes feel that way.

Change is Cranky and Whiny

Maybe it's the heat, maybe it's the extra 20lbs strapped to my belly, maybe it's the hormones...but man, I've been cranky lately. It's a sort of chronic irritability that I have to try to keep firmly in check, but still leaks out all over the place. I don't really want to go anywhere or see anyone, I'd rather stay home in my little nest and routine. I remember at this point in my last pregnancy feeling this same sense of needing to withdraw and go within. I suppose it's a natural gathering of strength for the huge effort that is soon to come.

I don't remember this much irritability, though. Of course, things are different this time. Last time, our last 8 weeks were a blind panic as we tried to find a new apartment and move. My sole focus was re-assembling a home to have the baby in. Still, even in that state of chaos, there was the ability to take ample time to myself to relax and meditate on what was to come.

But you live with someone who is completely engaged in every moment of the day, and persistently demands your co-engagement in most of those moments it's not quite so easy to just sit and gather strength. Boodge is not the kind of child who likes to sit by himself and read books or play on his own. Some days, and weeks, when he's had enough sleep and things are stable, he can be that way. But usually he wants to do things like play ball or climb things or build things with Mommy's help. He's also what his grandmother likes to call "a charged particle" who rarely stops moving and whose safety has to be monitored pretty closely.

And though he's usually a pretty happy go lucky guy, lately he's been mastering the art of whining and disagreeing. Even a request like "Wanna go to the water park?" is often met with a big "NO!" So you can imagine that "Time to put on your pants," or "Please stay at the table," are even more offensive to him. Every little thing feels like it requires a fine finessing, or a power struggle.

When he's tired, like, first thing in the morning, the whining comes. "Mommy pick you up! Mommy pick you up!" while I'm trying to make a pot of coffee or breakfast or even have my morning pee. At the witching hour, which is exactly when he and I are both tired and I'm trying to make dinner, he will whine and cry for me and nothing satisfies him except my complete attention, which I just can't give him then. He clings to my pants while I'm working on the hot stove, his little face wet with tears and snot. The whole scene makes me want to sit on the kitchen floor and cry these days.

Pregnancy has a way of preparing you for what's to come when the baby is born. At the end of my first pregnancy I got a taste not being able to call my body my own and waking up several times a night. Now, I'm seeing that I may have to rearrange things--not expect myself to always put together a nice meal and keep on top of housework, or do it at different times. I'm also getting a taste of not having the energy, patience, and strength to satisfy the needs of both the child within and the child without. When Boodge is crying and begging to be picked up and I'm so tired that just lifting my arm feels like major effort, I envision the scene multiplied by two. Two kids crying, wanting my full attention, and me tired and at my wit's end. And when Boodge goes down for his nap or night, I'm finding myself more and more having to use the time to rest myself, rather than do things I enjoy more like yoga or writing. That's helping me get used to the idea that I won't have much time just for myself anymore. And both these things, frankly, make me feel anxious.

But pregnancy is also, in a way, preparing Boodge to have a Mama who can't always be what he wants me to be. I have to set more limits with him now, there's no way around it. I have to say, "No, Mommy can't pick you up, I'm too tired. You can walk." or "No, I'm not going to stand up to pitch the ball to you, I can do it from my chair," or "Sorry buddy, you'll have to wait, I can't help you right now." It's a natural thing to be happening at this age, when he's becoming more of his own person and needing more boundaries and discipline. But he's still fluctuating between independent big boy and baby who needs his Mama, and I'm still letting go of him as my baby. It's a tough time for both of us.

The practice, for me, is to be able to set the appropriate limits with sensitivity and a level head. He's changing, and he can feel the changes in me too, and I understand that his whining and contrariness is coming in part from insecurity. I want to meet his need for a loving, stable, and consistent Mama. Right now, I find myself flying off the handle sometimes over little things, or giving in because I'm too tired to handle a meltdown, or feeling guilty that I'm so grumpy. Not all the time, and not so I'm beating myself up over it (I'm human, after all), but I notice it.

Parenting a toddler takes a different set of skills than parenting a baby. Nurturing, and intuiting and meeting the needs of a little one comes fairly naturally. But being firm and consistent and not letting my buttons get pushed, all of which seem to require a certain emotional detachment, is probably not my strong suit. Especially right now, when I seem to squeeze out a few tears every single day.

So, here we are. Boodge and I, both in a transitional state, swirling in the winds of change. I'm hoping to muster the extra strength to do right by my little guy, my Peanut, and myself. It's never easy not knowing what's on the other side. Change is usually good, but in the midst of it I always find myself wishing I could be somehow transported to the point where the dust has settled and the new normal is established. Until then, I suppose I can expect a bit more whining and crankiness--from Boodge, and from me. Here's your first installment.

Enter the Peanut

I just got back from my 2nd appointment with my midwife. As seems usual with midwifery appointments, it was a warm and welcoming experience with a lovely, friendly, intelligent woman. I love the midwifery model of care, and couldn't imagine going any other way for the monumental occasion of bringing a new life into our family and the world. It's important to me that when I see my care provider, they offer me lots of time, invite me to talk about my pregnancy and birth on an emotional, spiritual, and physical level, and present me with options but don't tell me what to do. And what's better, I checked out totally healthy so far, and got to hear the wonderful whoosh whoosh whoosh of Peanut's heart beating away. I look forward to that sound every time, just to know s/he's in there, alive and well.

It was also nice to be able to talk about some of the choices I am struggling with around whether to wean the Boodge or tandem nurse my babies, and to have her share with me how beautiful her experience was tandem nursing her daughters. It's so hard to find people who even nurse to two years, let alone even consider nursing 2 babies, that it's an immense relief to be with someone who actually validates the idea rather than look at me like I'm a total kook. Honestly, I didn't think that I would consider tandem nursing myself, but now that I'm here with a babe who loves to nurse and another on the way, it seems to make sense.

This pregnancy is so different from the last. The physical differences are minor. I'm still a lucky one--no morning sickness (don't hate me) and generally great health and energy (after the first trimester). But mentally, there's no comparison. With Boodge, the pregnancy was always there like a little gem in the back of my mind, one I rolled around and watched sparkle in different lights. Also, there was lots of fear of things like miscarriage or whether the baby would be born healthy and alive. I spent hours reading about pregnancy and birth, I talked to him and sang to him in utero, I rubbed oils and creams on my belly and took pictures of it as it grew.

This time, sorry little Peanut, I think more about Boodge than I do about the baby inside me. The reality of my day is that Boodge is there in front of me, grabbing the eggs out of the fridge or running for the potty or pushing his chair over to the hot stove to climb up. I have to think about him in the moment, and I can only think about Peanut in stolen moments--just before sleep, or at stoplights. But I also think about him in relation to the arrival of Peanut. How will he adjust? How can I make it easiest for him. What will help him welcome and not resent the new baby? Will he be OK during our time away birthing the baby? What will I do about nursing?

We're already making some changes to Boodge's life in anticipation of Peanut. The night weaning was the first one. This week, he will give up his last "boo" in the bed, the nursing he does in order to fall asleep. Sean is taking over bedtime. This was partly precipitated by my meltdown a couple of weeks ago, but it's also been part of the preparation plan for Peanut's arrival. I can't be sure that I can lie down with Boodge for half an hour every night and nap and nurse him to sleep, especially if I'm listening to Peanut scream that infant scream in another room. And I don't want to discover I can't do it after Peanut is born, and have to make that dramatic change to Boodge's life when so much other change is also happening. Plus, we want to encourage bonding with his Dad now, since his Dad will have to take over certain tasks, like waking up with Boodge in the night.

It feels right, but also sad. I guess it's a precursor to how it will feel to have 2 children--torn trying to meet the needs of both. I am looking forward to Peanut, but I'm sad about how it may affect my bond with the Boodge. I love that little guy like crazy. I love being able to sit and nurse him in a leisurely way, take him outside to play for hours, accept his rations of hugs and cuddles whenever he's willing to offer them. I am sad to know our bond will change. But I'm happy to know that he will bond more deeply with his dad, and eventually, with Peanut too. I'm trying to focus on the ways that the love in his life, and our family's life, will expand, even if it is changing.

I'll take the new free time at bedtime to go for an evening walk with Peanut. S/he deserves a little Mama time too, as well as a Mama who gets some exercise and will actually have the stamina to birth him or her. And I'll give Boodge extra loving through this tricky transition, and listen to what he is telling me about how it's going for him. I'm learning to be a Mama of two. We're learning to be a family of four. Peanut, little as you are, you are squeaking in there and making your mark. And we welcome you.