Several people have asked why I am suddenly interested in natural childbirth after ten years and three labors that, while medicated and managed, turned out just fine. Actually, my mother specifically told my brother not to ask me about my birthing plans, but that could have been because we were in the middle of a pizza party at her house. As if twenty of my parents’ closest friends and relatives wouldn’t be interested in every last contraction and whimper.
The truth is, I’m not entirely sure, although one answer is that I have gotten over my post-collegiate disinterest in learning anything new, and, having settled back in the state I call home, I have time and sensory receptors available to explore things other than the sort of forced (though exciting and welcome) exploration and coping that comes with moving regularly to different cultures.
Also, while my births were just fine, my three epidurals were not magical (though the pain relief eventually was blessed), and my only non-induced birth was better than the other two. Also, my babies didn’t get bigger and bigger each time as we assumed. Sally was 9 lb 3 oz at 41 weeks. That was some painful pushing. Susan was 7 lb 13 oz at 37 1/2 weeks, so we induced with Spot at 39 weeks. She was only 7 lb 5 oz. It probably wouldn’t have hurt anything to let her cook a little longer.
On the other hand I am not a hater or fear-er of doctors and hospitals. All three of my daughters were delivered by female obstetricians that I liked, respected, and trusted. I always felt that my wishes were being carried out, that nurses and doctors were listening to what I wanted, so in that sense, what more could you ask for? Breastfeeding was always easy to establish right after birth (besides the expected awkwardness/uncertainty with my first). I never felt that my babies were drugged or adversely affected by my epidurals or the Pitocin.
And speaking of the hospital setting in general, one of my earliest memories is going to visit my dad at the Camp Pendleton Navy hospital in Southern California. I was five. Dad was always happy to see us, happier it seemed than when we saw him at home, where he was trying to sleep off his last 72-hour shift. At the hospital, we visited the nursery, pressing our noses to the glass to see the row of wrinkly alien babies. Then we went down to the cafeteria and got chocolate milk and macaroni and cheese. (Those were some good times).
But now birth interests me. Whereas before it seemed merely a means to an end, sort of like ordering takeout (which can be a glorious, glorious thing), now it seems like something I can and should be more involved in, like shopping for (or growing) the freshest, healthiest ingredients you can find and preparing dinner yourself (which I admit is overwhelming and/or completely unappetizing at times.)
Three years ago (just a few months after Spot was born) I found the blog of some friends Tom and I knew at BYU. I think I was looking for an address to send Christmas cards, and instead I realized that they (or at least the woman, Rixa) had really gone off the deep end. I was hooked! I read in that can’t-look-away-from-a-car-wreck sort of daze that you do, and at some point, she started to make sense.
But not before I wrote several osts about how silly natural childbirth (and in particular unassisted childbirth) is. Imagine my horror when for her second birth Rixa had a midwife. As if women preparing for birth should be flexible!
A Trip Back in Blogtime
Weird parenting priorities, cont. (In which I awkwardly introduce Rixa to my blog, and make wonderfully smart statements about elimination communication and co-sleeping. Though I still think those things are not for me, I hope I can discuss them more rationally now. Also, it’s always been fascinating to my dad and I that several of “these things” (cloth diapers, homeschooling, natural birthing, breastfeeding, composting) cluster together. Now I find there is a term/movement for this, “natural family living,” and “attachment parenting” . . . I wonder.) 4-18-2007
“If the Good Lord had wanted us to walk, He wouldn’t have Invented Roller Skates” (Or epidurals.) 4-30-2007
Top 5 ways to know that Unassisted Childbirth is right for you (This one still strikes me as funny, mostly because I put in some of my childhood, though it was my sister’s sock drawer.) 5-08-2007
People I can’t help admiring, much as I’d like not to (Another very sensitive post, in which I finally admit my sneaking admiration for non-mainstream birthers, among others.) 3-14-2008
The Truth about Babywearing, Updated (Reading this, I have the uncommon experience of being really pleased with something I wrote. In the footnote, I say the reason I continue to read Rixa is that she is honest about her fears despite her obvious desire to promote understanding and acceptance of natural- and home- births.) 11-19-2008
One More Less (How unassisted miscarriage seems much more barbaric than unassisted childbirth) 8-22-2009
An Update and Some Thoughts (I’ve now had two high-tech ultrasounds for this pregnancy, at 7 and 12 weeks, to check on the baby’s size and also the sub-chorionic hemorrhage they found at the 7th week ultrasound. Both were reassuring, and also evidence for the unhelpful yet inevitable nature of the intervention cascade.) 1-24-2010
Does it matter how you give birth? (Rixa, my birthing mentor, sent me a box of books and dvds; I’d read a few of them, and been convinced that it does matter, especially how you prepare and plan to give birth — whether you prepare and make informed choices about how to give birth. In my previous post (the Update) I was pregnancy-nauseated and wondered whether I’d be able to do this whole natural thing. Several people left supportive, encouraging comments. In this post I was more “I can do this, because it’s important” and I got several defensive, unsupportive comments (both on and off the blog). 3-02-2010
The burning fervor of the recently converted (This began as an apology and admission that perhaps I was a little fanatic in my commitment to a newly discovered truth, but by the end I’ve pretty much worked my way back around to saying, “This matters.” That doesn’t mean I think less of anyone who thinks it doesn’t matter, but I think maybe they’re missing out. Just as if I loved a fiction book or movie and raved about it for hours and someone looked at me disinterestedly. I wouldn’t think they were dumb or wrong, but I’d wish they could see and appreciate things the way I did.) 3-04-2010
My own personal brand of heroin: the Analogy (The only way I could get my friend Tara to understand why anyone would think it important to learn about natural childbirth (and want to convince others) was to compare it to having a financial budget. Something that she does, very well, and something that I haven’t (so far) been bothered to do. I told my mom it was like caring about where your food comes from (some people do, some people don’t) because she was reading Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle last week). I told my husband that it’s like the difference between hosting and tweaking your own WordPress blog and being content to use one of Blogger’s default themes with no widgets.) 3-04-2010
The sad thing about birthing choices, talking about them, sharing birth stories with the ladies at church is that it metastasizes exponentially into this “mommy wars” who’s-the-better-mommy fight. Instead of supporting each other in learning new things, in wanting to do things better as we learn, we automatically assume that one woman’s personal history or present-day interest and desire are a direct attack on the way we have chosen to do things ourselves. And defensiveness is only slight less attractive than smug certainty: both indicate a feeling of insecurity and dissatisfaction with one’s personal commitment to breastfeed or bottlefeed, sleep train or co-sleep, homeschool or public/private/charter school.
Another problem is that reading about the history of maternity care, of birth customs and practices in the West, of how technology is worshiped and science is ignored, it’s honestly a little like finding out that Guess What? Smoking Causes Cancer, and TOBACCO GROWERS KNEW IT ALL ALONG. Maybe everyone feels like that about their personal passion, that the truth about their personal passion should be glaringly obvious to all.
Tom certainly feels that way about the Blogger platform. Sue, who said that unmedicated childbirth was the “ultimate unnecessary martyrdom” feels that way about the poverty-stricken refugees who live in our state. How could we find out that little children are out in the cold without coats and NOT DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT? Easily, I say. Just give me some NCIS reruns on cable, and I’ll forget all about the Haitians and their little earthquake.
Why would I want to change my comfortable life, just because I have learned something new?
(Sorry, Sue, that really irked me, can you tell?)
Here’s another analogy for you. My grandma told me the other day that I should be blogging about political things (she is what you might call a Rabid Republican). You know, I should be blogging about things that Really Matter, making a difference, doing something that my kids would be proud of me someday for having done. And I just stared at her, blankly.
A) I’m not even sure she’s right in her concern for the State of American Democracy (I have a friend who voted for Obama), and B) I just don’t really care right now. It’s not something I’m interested in beyond enjoying my annoyance at the liberal bias in The New York Times and on NPR.
But I’m glad that there are women (mothers) who do care, passionately, on both (all) sides of the political question. I’m glad that it’s something they feel so strongly about, even when that leads them to be smug buttheads sometimes about how right they are and how wrong everyone else is. And I’m jealous, because political affiliation isn’t usually used in the mommy wars. (Or at least it’s cloaked in terms like “hippy” and “conventional” which come to think of it, aren’t much better.)
When I asked: Does it matter how you give birth, I could as easily ask: Does it matter how you vote? Does it matter how you earn a living? Does it matter how you worship? Does it matter how you feed your family/care for the environment/spend your leisure time/leave your affairs when you die/allocate your money/adopt your kids? And someone would be offended because one of those things matters so much that to compare it to something like birth is just an insult.
I still don’t have an answer as to why seeking natural childbirth is so important to me right now, why it feels like the opposite of the “ultimate unnecessary martyrdom,” why it feels like power, enlightenment, female-ism, truth.
The bigger question is: Is it possible to share something you believe in/care about without sounding like a judgemental ass?
I think that is the ultimate goal, whatever your personal passion.
Subscribe by email
I always feel like an asshat commenting on your profound posts with silly little quips.
I am going to put myself out there on a limb and say people take things personally.
Instead of applauding your personal decision and offering support… Some people take it as an attack on their own belief system. I truly believe that there are many situations where there isn’t an all encompassing “right” or “wrong”. In most cases what is right for you may not be right for the next guy. But you should be able to be passionate and not be labeled judgemental.
Basically what I am saying is some people need to check their emotions at the door. It isn’t always about them. If you want to birth your babies in a cornfield that doesn’t mean you are attacking a woman who wants to be drugged and unconcious.
That being said… I made up the cornfield part. But in thinking about it PLEASE don’t give birth in a cornfield. They are SCARY. Have you ever seen Children of the Corn?
Jane Reply:
March 16th, 2010 at 11:22 am
Have not seen Children of the Corn. Sounds scary, and I do not like scary movies.
I think emotions and passions are good. I think we should care enough about how we live to get fired up about life and our options and choices. But somehow I think we (esp. me) need to learn how to not be mean at the same time. Surely this is possible?
I am probably going to ask my neighbor/friend Chrysanthemum to act as my doula. I’ve been passing her Rixa’s birth books as I read them, and we spend our daily hour-long walk talking about birth stuff. She is completely supportive and very in tune with what I want/need. (As I know you would be too, but she is right *here* with me.)
The funny (maybe) thing about that is that she had all three of her kids by c-section because of CPD (cephalopelvic disproportion) and yet she talks about someday going back to school and becoming a midwife. She’s not upset or anything about her c-sections; she’s grateful the technology was there (obviously); but she’s very interested in/supportive of natural birth. (maybe I have brainwashed her. ;p)
Steph Reply:
March 16th, 2010 at 11:35 am
I agree… It is wonderful to be passionate about a subject. If you feel strongly about something you should have passion about. But, other people need to realize that your passion is not direct attack on their beliefs. That is where checking emotions at the door come in.
I don’t think I have ever been offended by one of your posts. I rarely get offended. I am a dude like that. So maybe I don’t take offense when I should.
It does make sense to have your nearby friend Doula for you! But let me know if I can help with anything at all. I am very interested in natural birth since watching “The Business of Being Born” a couple years ago. Maybe we can make a documentary of you birth.
Thanks for all those old links–great reading and comic relief at times! I have to say that I think you’re pretty awesome. Not that you wouldn’t be awesome if you weren’t, of course! Now you can get all offended if you want! hahahaha
Seriously, though, I wish we (speaking generally of women as a group) could talk about birth without becoming defensive or feeling offended. I think we’d have a lot to learn, and feel a lot of compassion for each other, if we were able to get to that point. I loved all of the input from my post about epidurals, for example. Just listening to what women are saying–really listening–is so important.
Gotta run–Zari wants to be read Goldilocks (well the French version which is called “Boucle d’or.”) Ciao.
Jane Reply:
March 16th, 2010 at 11:23 am
No offense. I thought twice about posting those links bec. I said some things I’m not too proud of, but hey, that’s what I was thinking three years ago.
We mostly read Spanish books from the library. I have an *excellent* accent, but no clue what I’m reading (unless it’s an obvious cognate).
You wrote <>
Yes, this sounds familiar! I often wonder why people see different decisions about issues like birth and parenting as if they are a criticism of the choices they have made. Perhaps because we (mostly) believe we are doing the best for our children – or feel guilty that we could be doing better, but would rather not be reminded of it lol – any other way might suggest a criticism of our own methods.
I’ve been through the birth-plan/birthing experience ‘competition’, the weaning/walking/feeding/baby sleeping/how organic are you ‘competition’. And yes, among parents these issues are a greater minefield than discussing religion or politics; there are times when I think discussion of parenting techniques should be designated an olympic sport!
And believe me, as a home educator, there’s a whole other minefield – the discussion of your child’s education. I have learnt on many occasions to grit my teeth and smile sweetly when the topic arises (or just duck lol!)
Do you think all this stops when the kids grow up and leave home? Perhaps then we can settle down to just being women who support each other again
If so, then I look forward to old age!
Jane Reply:
March 16th, 2010 at 11:16 am
I know that I need to work on how I say things AND how I receive them. To both be confident and humble in my choices and not-defensive when I feel they’re attacked. Both are so hard.
Big Mamma Frog Reply:
March 16th, 2010 at 12:32 pm
Yes I once did a one-day course in Neurolinguistic Programming (NLP). Although I’m suspicious of the use of NLP in manipulating people (it’s a popular tool for salespeople!), the day did teach me that there there are ways that you can respond in a positive/neutral way to people who have said things that you disagree with. AND that you can do this without selling out your own personal views on the matter. I’m sure with practice it can be a useful tool, though I have to say that I found it very hard to do.
And I think it is always useful if you can separate the viewpoint from the person. i.e. I disagree with your viewpoint/opinion rather than I disagree with you (as a person).
But I agree. Not easy!
The “ultimate unnecessary martyrdom”? I’ve experienced birth with and without an epidural (by choice both times) and a sentiment like that is beyond galling. It’s fine if you don’t want to do an unmedicated birth, but to say it’s something other people put themselves through to sacrifice themselves for a higher principle? (And if that *is* what you think an unmedicated birth is, then it would seem motherhood itself is the ultimate unnecessary martyrdom. It’s certainly been a bigger sacrifice than the four days I spent getting the two of them here.)
Ahem, anyway, although I had an unmedicated birth, I’ve also had the pleasure of being cornered (in the mother’s “lounge” at church, no less—an 8×8 windowless room) by a rabid natural birther and made to feel less for my choices, even though they were almost identical to hers—a fact she never bothered to find out, and didn’t seem that interested in when I volunteered it. No, instead she told me what I could have done better (or “more righter,” I think was her real message).
She never asked what I wanted or felt like; she just dictated what I had to do to avoid one specific outcome—an outcome which she herself experienced, but obviously her method worked because it was only because of extenuating-circumstance-Y (TMI!!!) that it happened to her, and clearly it happened to me because I was ignorant of the miracle cure. Can’t you tell how grateful I am to have been enlightened in such a loving and caring manner?
Jane Reply:
March 16th, 2010 at 11:12 am
(Maybe I should clarify in my post that when I ask if it’s possible to share one’s beliefs/desires w/o being an ass, I was referring to myself first. ;p)
It’s interesting to me — I think probably the pioneers of any movement have been considered (and have had to be for all practical purposes) “rabid.” I am grateful beyond measure that I have the vote, but I imagine I might have found Susan B. Anthony’s endless Suffragette rantins tiresome. (I assume she ranted and raged? It doesn’t seem like a ladylike person would have made much difference?)
And, then there is the issue of our missionaries. They have to balance sincere belief with humility and patience, or no matter how “true” the message, no one will listen. (Not that I’m comparing birth choices with something as important as the gospel, but we do have the whole “one and only true church” thing going for us/against us in dealing with the rest of the world).
Somehow it’s gotta be possible to care, intensely and deeply about things, enough that you want to share them with others, without being dogmatic and thoroughly unlikable. (right?) Because if you don’t care about anything enough to want to persuade others, what is the point of living? ;p
1-I have NOT gotten over my post-collegiate disinterest in learning anything new…..yet.
I love that….wish I was past that already. Okay, I am a little I guess…
2-Shannon, even if I don’t agree with you, I support you. Even if I am not fired up on the same subject, I respect your opinion and like hearing your voice. And it is MY choice to feel judged or not, or to feel like you are comparing yourself to me, or calling me a bad mother, or birther. I know it is not your intent to do any of those things, so if I imagined those things it would be MY fault. Just sayin’.
I yearn for the day when we can stop comparing ourselves to each other based on how we IMAGINE the other person is perceiving us, that we can build each other up and respect our differences. I was at a friends house the other day and saying how nice and clean it looked and decorated so cute, etc. etc. and she said something like your house is nice too. And I had to say: “Don’t worry, I’m not comparing my house to yours, I am happy with where I am and what I have, but I can still appreciate what you have.” And I really meant it. I was very proud of myself.
3-I am passionate about political things, so I do share, but I also am truly learning to realize that just because people believe differently (i.e. are liberal) does not make them a bad person. They’re just wrong.
But that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m right, you know?
4- YES! You can share something you believe in/care about without sounding like a judgemental ass. If the reader will let you. If they don’t, it’s their fault, not yours.
Hi! I found your blog and have been stalking w/o posting until now. And I have a whiney 3 yr old and I don’t have time to read all comments to see if I am being redundant.
This “know it all” attitude is one that I personally struggle with and therefore annoys me about everyone else. My stance is “this is what works for me.” FOR ME. Not you. MY choices–NOT Yours. And I think it’s all about keeping the balance with natural vs. convenience or any other quandry. Some people go so far they make it their new religion. I think we all are just doing the best we can and we all do what works for us and our family whether it’s voting for Obama or using cloth diapers.
I think birth is such a sensitive topic. We all want what is best for our babies. And, really, knowing Sue…she’s sort of joking. I have no doubt she has medicated births; but I doubt she really regards the rest of us as martyrs. Probably she’s admitting that she just doesn’t get why anyone would put herself through that.
My first baby (of 6) was born in a hospital. The birth was poorly managed (even though by the book, protocol-wise) and we were lucky to have a positive outcome. Plus, no C-section. Very lucky. As it was, the hospital insisted on dumping formula down the baby’s throat rather than letting him nurse often enough (he was in the NICU for observation for 3 days); he developed a lifelong, severe milk allergy. Oh, and the doctor made no effort to prevent giving me an episiotomy – that was by far my most painful postpartum recovery. I could barely walk for over a week afterward.
Consequently, the next 5 babies were natural births (some at home, some at a birth center). I hated the pain, every single time. It was horrendous! But not nearly as traumatic (for me) as being pinned down by monitors and IV’s in a hospital bed while in labor; nor as traumatic as having hospital staff refuse to bring me my baby. Some people don’t mind those things, but they mattered to me.
Best part – those midwives hand you your baby within seconds. They don’t whisk him/her away. Midwives know what they are doing, I’ll tell you that. Their experience with natural births is unparalleled.
That experience is what matters, whether home or in a hospital or at a birthing center. Find the most experienced midwives. They have seen everything, have nothing “to prove,” and will always recommend a hospital/obgyn at the first inkling of danger.
Oh, and the prenatal care I received was so much more personal and caring from the midwives! Their offices were child-friendly, they didn’t treat me as if being pregnant were a disease, etc. I truly felt as though I were in control of the whole process. But therein lies the rub: some women don’t like that sort of atmosphere. They prefer to feel as though the doctor is in control and they don’t have to worry about everything. To each his own…
First, I’m late in responding and didn’t read any of the other comments so I quite possibly am repeating something somebody else might have said and if so, well I’m sorry.
Second, I GET IT!!. After two healthy, hospital births I too suddenly wanted to know what the “other side” was all about. Having had two preterm births and being 39 I knew there was no way I was going to be having my baby at a birthing center but I was interested in seeing how much labor I could endure without caving into medication. Turns out, I ended up with little choice in that matter and withstood all of it without being fully medicated.
Was it painful? Hell to the Yeah. Unimaginable and indescribable. I screamed, I cried, I yelled, I groaned and my conscious mind has blocked out most of it from my memory bank.
However, I’m so glad I got to experience it – at least for one of my pregnancies. Not because I’m a sadist, but so my husband and partner could be there, emotionally, in the same place that I was. It was the best thing David and I have ever done together.
Jane Reply:
March 21st, 2010 at 10:01 pm
I have a post ready about why, specifically, I’d like to avoid an epidural this time (and it’s not because I’m a sadist either, or even totally because I want to “experience” everything, though it sounds awesome that you felt it was something you and David did together — he must have been really supportive and physically there for you.)
One thing I have worried about recently is if I’ll feel inhibited from screaming in a hospital setting. I’m very interested in homebirth, but I live too far away (35+ minutes), so it’s just not gonna happen. My friend told me that her mother, who is an x-ray tech, had complained about the “Latino women” because they were screamers in labor. To me that just means that labor belongs in a birthing center right next to the hospital where women can do and say what they need to without being made to feel that they are disturbing sick people. Because laboring women are NOT sick.
I also wonder what I will want to wear. Most of the natural births you see, the women are naked, and that seems totally normal and desirable/comfortable, but, again, I can’t imagine not being inhibited from dressing (or not dressing, as the case may be) in the most comfortable way, because I am in an institution where anyone might walk in. (When I start to think of all the nitty-gritty logistical details, that is when homebirth makes so much sense to me for the privacy and autonomy and freedom, but I don’t feel it’s a safe option for me, and that makes me mad/sad.)
What to wear in labor–get a comfortable, stretchy camisole/dress thingy (like what I’m wearing in the picture with me and Dio a few hours after his birth). It won’t inhibit your movement, it covers everything that you might want covered, but gives you easy access for going to the bathroom, etc without having to really undress/remove anything.
Or you could do a combination of a comfortable tank top/swim top and a loose skirt. But I like the camisole idea better because it’s short enough not to get in the way if you’re kneeling or on hands and knees.
Of course if you feel like being naked, go for it. I assure you that hospital staff will be used to it.
I suggest that you put up a sign on the door saying not just “please knock before entering” but something that also specifies they wait until you give them permission to enter. Better yet, bring along one of those rubber wedges with you. So when they knock, they won’t be able to enter until Tom (or someone else) lets them in. That would make a huge difference in you feeling like you’re in a private, safe place, and in feeling like it’s a place you have control over.
ps–here’s a hypothetical question for you:
What if felt prompted to have a home birth? Would you have the courage to actually do it? I had to ask myself the same kind of question when I was pregnant: “If I felt prompted to have a hospital birth, would I actually do it?” My response was, in part, “I hope I would have the faith/courage/gumption, but please please please I sure hope I never have to find out!”
Jane Reply:
March 22nd, 2010 at 7:46 am
That is a good question, and I would say, yes, but I live too far away. Is that a copout? Am I not really answering the question?
Like I said in my reply to Beth, the more I think about what I’ll want to do, say/scream, eat, drink, wear, listen to, be distracted by, etc, the more I think how wonderfully freeing and private it would be to have my baby at home. But the hospital is at least 35 minutes away. (We live out west of EVERYTHING. Driving down Lehi mainstreet in an emergency sounds like my definition of hell. Seriously. Lehi mainstreet is a two-lane piece of misery. A new east-west highway connecting us with AF will be done in Fall, but not soon enough, and even then it would be 30 minutes.)
The other consideration, because I was thinking, well, maybe I could labor at my parents’ house, because they live 10 minutes from a different (smaller) hospital — is that the CNMs I’m seeing do not attend homebirths (no CNMs do in Utah), so I’d have to find another attendant. But the bigger prohibiter there is my parents. I don’t think they’d be comfortable with me birthing there. So. I had a bit of a fight with my mom over her not being encouraging of the “no epidural” thing this weekend, and my dad is a pretty traditional doctor (though more open/supportive apparently than my mom), but it wouldn’t work if they weren’t totally with me.
I don’t really know, I guess. I have been having dreams lately where I spend most of the labor at home, and then I wake up before the birth but my last thought is — don’t worry, I know what to do! So at least I am feeling more confident. The problem with staying home as long as possible (which I do plan to do), is that, again, driving to the hospital while I’m in transition or something DOES NOT sound fun. Of course, we have a minivan and I can take out the middle seats and put down the back seat and make it pretty comfortable with cushions and stuff back there. (and by *I* I mean Tom of course
.
So, I’ve been thinking about this a lot. If you lived that far from a hospital, would it have changed your thinking about the homebirth at all?
Jane,
I think I might have found the solution for just about all of the things you’re wanting this this birth. If you’re already 35+ minutes away from the hospital, why not look at the freestanding birth center in Halladay (42 miles away)? It’s called the Birth and Family place (http://www.birthandfamilyplace.com/).
It’s a licensed health care facility, approved by (gasp!) ACOG and the AMA. (I say those things with a bit of irony, but still…you have a physician father and those things are convincing.) You’d have complete support for your desire to have a natural labor–not just in the narrow sense of being unmedicated, but in the larger sense of being in a private, homelike environment, one where you’d feel completely comfortable making noise, being naked, moving around. You’d know that all of the care providers are 100% used to working with unmedicated moms–that’s one of the purposes of birth centers.
Maybe you’ve already investigated this option, but if not, why don’t you schedule a tour and check out the list of providers who attend births there?
Jane Reply:
March 22nd, 2010 at 8:37 am
You’re right. I need to look into this option. My friend @PrairieMama (who has had 3 homebirths) recommended them a couple months ago, but at the time I thought they were too far away, too expensive (my insurance doesn’t cover, but I will check on that again), and I was just happy to find a group of midwives close by who have a very good track record of supporting natural birth — they’ve got a 2-3% c-section rate (they partner w/ OB’s who take the high-risk stuff), and a 50% epidural rate. From everything I’ve heard/experienced myself, I’ll be well-supported by them. They stay at the hospital the whole time with you, etc.
It is only since reading Birthing From Within and Birth Reborn that I’ve started to really think about the mechanics/logistics, and I need to do some more facilities research. I haven’t yet taken the tour of the AF hospital where my midwives attend. They have tons of pictures online, but my friend who will probably act as my doula, who had her third c-section there, was very impressed even in the c-section area about this hospital compared to where she had delivered in Idaho, as far as being treated like an autonomous woman instead of a faceless “patient.” Little things like walking into the operating room by herself instead of being transferred on a gurney, seeing her baby right after the c-section and then letting dad hold him instead of whisking him off to the nursery for a couple hours. (Hard for me to believe that ANY hospital does that without serious complications being present!)
I need to tour the AF hospital and ask if they’ll mind my screaming
. (By the way, I did like the anecdotes where women talked about screaming in the Birth Reborn book. I think that’s the first natural childbirth book I’ve read where that was “allowed.”)
Forgot to add–this would also eliminate the need to labor at home for as long as possible and then have a long drive in transition.
The AF midwives do seem like a great option for you too. With those numbers, you know women are getting real midwifery support, not midwives-acting-like-OBs.
Just realized that sounded a bit derogatory. Of course not all OBs act all the same. etc etc etc But you know what I mean by that.
Okay, true story. The hospital that I was in for Harper’s birth was a “teaching hospital” and when I arrived there was this cute little high school girl shadowing my delivery nurse. Being a teacher I felt this sudden obligation to make my delivery a “teaching moment” and spent all this time talking with the high school girl. I was conscious of my language and my modesty and didn’t want to scare her away from childbirth. That is until I reached about 7-8 centimeters.
At some point your body takes over and the other things really don’t matter. I don’t know how long that girl was in the delivery room with me. I reached a point where all I knew was me, and David. It was just David and I managing the process. I know there were other people there but I couldn’t tell you who or how many. There was just me staring at David and David telling me to “keep breathing” and that “I was doing great, just fine.”
The entire hospital might have seen my boobs and my vagina for all I know, but it somehow completely didn’t matter. I know I dropped the f-word but I have no idea how many times and who was there to listen – and at the time I completely didn’t care.
If you fear being self-conscious – trust me I don’t think it will matter in the moment. Also, keep in mind that the doctor was still hoping to give me an epidural so I didn’t have the benefit of being on all fours (which in hind-sight would have helped tremendously).
I don’t know – everybody’s experience is so personal and unique this might not help you at all.
Jane Reply:
March 24th, 2010 at 9:16 am
No, reading stories like this is immensely helpful. The first book I read on “natural” childbirth was Baby Catcher (which is such great storytelling that anyone would enjoy it) and the best part of it was seeing the great variety of ways women labored.
It also helps, because the f-word is one that is all too eager to come out of my mouth, and I totally believe you about getting to a point of not caring/not even being aware of what is going on around you. I don’t think of myself as an inhibited or shy or modest person, but I just want to make sure I’m not put in a position where I would feel I “should” act a certain way. (And I’m not an exhibitionist, either, except maybe about my opinions
.)