My Birth Story - a year later


This past year, especially this past month have been full of "last year at this time" memories. The most significant being in March, on our anniversary, when our ivf transfer occurred. Then on April Fools Day when ML got the call that our beta was positive and had doubled - he texted me a smiley face that I'll never forget. My baby shower in October that was so overwhelming at the time, but such an amazing day, a dream come true so full of love and friendship. Our office christmas party, that I missed last year as it fell just after my due date after I'd mentally checked out. I worked until 39 weeks at which point I was so tired and uncomfortable, and mentally checking out.

My due date - that passed without any fanfare. and then the waiting, and waiting, and waiting. 40 weeks, 41 weeks, 42 weeks, with not any hint of any sign of labor on its way. I'd spent a good portion of my pregnancy willing this baby to stick with me til the end, begging it to stay put and grow big and strong, not fully believing that we would actually have a baby at the end. I remember our midwives telling me that it was okay to let go, to let the baby know it was time to join us, and realizing just how much mental energy I'd been devoting to keeping that baby growing inside.

Somewhere around 41 weeks we started talking about scheduling a biophysical profile to check on the baby. Since we'd planned a homebirth, it was a bit of a to-do to get an appointment with an OB. Luckily I had some connections and was able to get in fairly easily. It was stressful to go to the hospital, but everything looked great and the OB even asked us about our dates, convinced from the BPP that we must have miscalculated conception based on the results. As if! HA

We went back a few days later to test again, with things still looking good, but the 42 week mark making the OB uncomfortable sending us home. They pushed induction, but we decided to wait. Christmas was quickly approaching, we were hosting, and we had to make the call to cancel. We were trying everything in the book to induce labor at home. I asked my midwives to do a stretch an sweep, at which point we discovered that my cervix was shut tightly closed, still tilted far back, and that the baby hadn't dropped yet. My Bishop score was not favorable for induction, which was stressful.

We inquired about the OB schedule for our preferred docs and made an appt to induce on Christmas evening at 42 1/2 weeks. ML and I spent Christmas driving down the coast, just the two of us, looking out at the ocean, stopping for hot cocoa and asking a stranger to take our photo - our last as a couple. I panicked at the thought of a hospital induction and we canceled the induction. Instead we went in for another BPP the day after Christmas and while things still looked good, we were approaching 43 weeks. As much as I wanted a natural birth in my own home, I wasn't about to do anything to put my baby in danger. I'd done massive amounts of research about the risks we were balancing. It was not an easy choice, but amid many tears, we decided to pack out bags and again schedule an induction for that evening. I cried on the drive to the hospital.

We arrived, birth plan in hand, and got settled into a room. From the get go, I retained as much control as one can when you are checking yourself into a hospital. Knowing that they couldn't turn me away I felt empowered to assert my right to respectfully refuse anything that I wasn't comfortable with, starting with the hospital bracelet they wanted me to wear but that I promptly took off. I'd read a ton of birth stories, including many of minimally invasive induced births. I was committed to birthing my baby.

ML set up our room, with a sarong over the bright light, my blanket on the bed, our music on the iod, snacks for the nurses laid out by the sink, copies of our birth plan distributed widely... We claimed the space as our own. I dressed in the special nightgown that Bestie had given me. I texted my mom and the midwives to come join us.

Sometime around 8pm the OB, one we trusted to support our desire for as natural a birth as possible, inserted a cytotec pill near my cervix. Shortly thereafter he attempted to place a foley bulb in my cervix, but because it was still closed up tight was only ably to fill 5cc (vs the usual 50cc) in the bulb. I rested with monitoring for a bit, then got up to walk around. I started having regular contractions, strong enough that I had to stop and breathe thru them, strong enough that I wanted to be back in the comfort of our room. By midnight I was on all fours on the floor, leaning on the birth ball, working hard to get through each really intense painful contraction. I felt a pop, on the inside, and everything intensified. We didn't realize that my water had broken until I got up and my waters leaked.

The nurse had wanted me on continuous monitoring, but I wasn't willing to get in bed, so she had to work hard to manually monitor me a few minutes a few times every hour. She also was under orders to get an iv placed, but I didn't want one and kept asking to put it off for a while longer. She was doing her job, and I was doing mine - with both of us remaining respectful of the other. I had a lot of support, with ML and my mom, and the midwives too, which I can only imagine made her job easier, but she did have to document every time I refused her requests.

The waters showed signs of meconium, which was to be expected considering we were nearly 3 weeks past due. I knew that there were risks with meconium, but also knew better than to worry about those risks at that point. I do recall that the nurse mentioned putting the NICU on call for delivery due to the meconium, but was so consumed with the labor at that point it was all I could really pay attention to. Since the pop everything was so much more intense, during the contractions, and in between the contractions. The nurse took the foly bulb out and noted that I had dilated a little to about 1 cm.  I was struggling thru each contraction and needed to get into the shower. I remember feeling really happy that labor had started and proud of my body for working to deliver my baby.

I spent the next 8 hours laboring in and out of the shower, mostly staying the the bathroom where there were safety bars I could hang onto. I really don't have words to describe how intense that experience was. I was screaming through each contraction and had very little relief in between. It was so way beyond harder than anything I had prepared for - so much more intense that any labor I had read about, or birth video I had watched.

I was giving absolutely everything I had to birth this baby.

At some point I started feeling nauseous and began vomiting in between contractions. I told myself over and over that each contraction was bringing me closer to meeting my baby, the baby I'd waited so long for, the baby that I'd fought so hard for. I believed in my body, I knew that I could do it. And at the same time I was astounded by the intensity of the experience.

The passage of time is fuzzy in my memory, but I do have clear memories of ML and my mom at my side the entire time, the shift change of nurses although I was so immersed in myself that I was unable to acknowledge it, the text affirmations that Bestie was sending to my mom and my mom was reading to me, closing the door to the bathroom so that I could labor with ML without any distractions. More than anything though, the intensity of each contraction taking over my entire body and the lack of what I'd thought would be a break in between each contraction are what stand out in my mind.

Sometime in the morning I emerged from the bathroom and perched myself on the birth ball. I was exhausted and desperate for a break. As if my body knew, the contractions started to space out a bit and I give me some time to regroup. There was talk among the midwives and nurse about possibly being complete and this being a break before the need to push. I was afraid to move fearing that the contractions would pick up again, but agreed to climb onto the bed so the nurse could check my cervix. It was the first check that I'd had since the foly bulb was removed the night before.

I was spent, exhausted, feeling like I had given everything I had in me, wondering how in the world I could possibly have anything left to push the baby out. Contractions that radiated down each leg consuming my entire torso came back with a vengeance when I climbed onto the bed. I was crying, vomiting, and no longer able to hold my bladder. Intense is the only word I have, but doesn't come close to describing the experience.

Expecting to find that I was fully dilated, the nurse turned with shock to look at my mom and announced that I was barely 2 cm dilated. No one could believe it.

At this point I was on the bed, gripping the bed rails, and looked at ML and begged "Please help me".  I was ready for some pain relief - I was desperate for some relief - I wasn't sure I could manage another contraction.

I don't remember details, but I was so grateful that no one questioned my request for drugs. We had a birth plan that specified as natural a birth as possible and had talked a lot about the possibility of holding me off for a bit if I asked for medication. Looking into ML's eyes I could see that he was going to do anything in his power to get me some pain relief as fast as humanly possible. Things happened quickly. The IV that I'd refused earlier was quickly placed and the anesthesiologist was called for an epidural.

While I received IV fluids to prepare me for the epidural, they gave me a dose of some medication telling me that it would act quickly and 'take the edge off'. My desperation and sobs intensified when it did no such thing.  How the hell could I have been so unprepared for this labor?

An epidural was soon placed, which I really don't remember much of, and although I could still feel the contractions they were so mild and manageable. ML climbed into bed with me and we must have slept for a while. The epidural was AMAZING.

Not sure when exactly but I started itching all over, a side effect of the epidural. It was so strange to not have sensation on your skin, but to feel it itching. The nurse gave me a medication to calm the itching and it basically made me loopy and sleepy.

I was having to roll from side to side every 20 minutes to keep the epidural working correctly and we joked about the 'epidural rotisserie'.

Six hours into the epidural and pitocin I was still only barely 2cm dilated. Talk about 'failure to progress' and the possibility of a c-section began. I was really out of it, and honestly felt like I'd given it my all and wouldn't have any regrets about how our baby finally came into this world. The doctor came into the room and there was a team meeting. It had been over 20 hours of really hard labor and 18 hours since my water had broken. I was exhausted and still barely dilated. But the baby was holding up well enough.

They asked me what I wanted to do. If I wanted to proceed with a section. The anesthesiologist had reviewed our birth plan and was willing to accomodate all of my requests.

I honestly didn't care what happened next. But I knew that I wasn't in any shape to make such a big decision so I deferred to ML. I can remember everyone weighing in on the decision before us, and ultimately taking a vote. My mom, a homebirth mom herself, Bradley natural childbirth teacher, super advocate for natural birth, had never seen such a hard labor and was ready to send me in to surgery - but she abstained from the vote.

My amazing support team believed in birth. Believed in me. ML listened to them and it was decided to wait another hour before making any decisions. As long as the baby was tolerating the labor we would wait another hour and hope that I made some progress.

The contractions were gaining strength, and getting stronger than the epidural. I was once again moaning through them, asking the nurse to turn up the epidural. Once she had exhausted the amount of increase that was up to her she was going to call the anesthesiologist back to increase the dosage  but decided to check me one more time. It had been almost an hour since 'the meeting'.

Again the nurse recoiled in shock when she reported that I was fully dilated with a baby descending down the birth canal. No one could believe that I'd gone from 2 to 10 in less than an hour, with a baby ready to deliver.

The room was suddenly full of activity.
The epidural was turned off.
A pushing bar was set up on the bed.
A mirror was pulled into the room.

I could reach down and feel the head of the baby I was about to deliver.
Against all odds I was about to become a mother.

I remember pushing, but feeling like I wasn't doing it right. I kept wanting to change positions because it was so uncomfortable, because I felt like it should feel more natural. Everyone talks about an 'urge' to push, but I don't remember feeling anything like that. And everyone also talks about how delivery is nothing like the movie scenes, but all I could do was scream and push. I can only imagine that I looked just like a crazy movies scene - a naked women screaming through every contraction, pushing with everything I had left in me, clutching the sides of my hospital bed.

Before I knew what had happened, there was a baby laying on my chest.

It was shocking. What was this and where had it come from? It was lying on my chest, all wet and warm. I was so relieved to be done with the labor, but completely shocked at the outcome.

What was this things and where had it come from? All I could do in those moments were to focus on ML. The intensity of love I felt for him in those moments was overwhelming. And yet there was a wet warm baby laying on my chest.

Oh my god, a baby, our baby.

While I was trying to get my head around the fact that there was a baby lying on my chest, someone asked 'what is it?' and ML lifted our child to announce

'A boy'.

There was still a lot of activity in the room. The OB was calmly yet firmly shouting orders at people, and I could remember my midwives telling me that delivering the placenta was an important next step that would require my attention. Apparently I was hemorrhaging, losing more blood than anyone was comfortable with and the OB was methodically doing everything he needed to do to get the bleeding under control. I don't recall exactly what all was done to address the situation, but it was finally deemed okay. Significant tearing took the OB the next hour to sew up. Many multiple second degree tears was what he called it later - on the internal vaginal walls, labia, everywhere. He didn't even bother to count stitches.  

All this while, there was a baby lying on my chest. Our son.
He looked up at me and ML with clear bright calm eyes.
My Someday was upon us.

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the storm is over






Whose blog is this anyway?

I've been thinking, Whose blog is this anyway?

It was mine. but then he came.
It is my story, but it feels so much like his story.
They are so much the same, but oh so different.

and I realize that I hesitate to tell his story, because it is his, but that means that I don't get to tell mine anymore.

Not that I have ANY free time to write - or to think enough to have anything to write about.
But I want to keep writing. I want to keep writing my story. MY story as his mama.

The other day my boss was telling me about a women's group that she joined that meets via phone once a week. She is a very public local figure and most people that befriend her are looking to get something out of the relationship. The phone group allows her to connect with likeminded women while maintaining her anonymity. I totally get it. and I totally MISS it. I used to have that here. and I want it back.


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My baby grew up!


My baby grew up- I think it happened overnight.

I think it happened last week. He is walking. And changing almost before my eyes.

I have a long long post in the works, looking back at his birth last year.

Until then...





I love him. Really. I really love him.

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Best Noise EVER


And ML and I got to watch him take his first step on Friday after Thanskgiving. So cool.

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round two - oh hell no!



Lots of discussion about 'round 2' these days. It was the topic of discussion at baby class the other day. I panicked when I saw it written on the board, and actually contemplated leaving. The topic is beyond loaded and I just wasn't feeling able to 1) listen to others talk about their seemingly simple 'plans', or 2) make sense of my own thoughts on the subject enough to say something inteligible.

I mean, my immediate reaction to the question has been "oh Hell NO".

First, Pregnancy did a number on my body. My back SI joint is still a mess. I suspect that my tailbone is going to hurt forever. I am still carrying 15 extra lbs that won't seem to budge. My bladder control leaves something to be desired. and while it seems weird, I swear that I damaged my feet during delivery - they are so stiff and achey in the morning when I first get up now. Weird right?

Second, The first few months with babycakes were not pleasant. In fact, they were pretty awful. He was so unhappy, and nothing I did helped him. It felt like he hated me. The truth is that I wasn't so fond of him either. (yeah, i really said that about the baby that I fought SO hard for.) I was not graceful in my adjustment to my new responsibilities.  I honestly do not think I could go through anything like that again. Really, the thought of having a newborn again terrifies me. I am even more terrified that if we tried again we'd end up with twins, and that scares me even more!

And finally, although it felt totally reasonable at the time, I have serious hesitations about going thru fertility treatments again. The emotional toll it takes just feels like more than I can handle again.

Everyone assures me that I will change my mind. That before I know it I'll catch the baby fever. I'm not so sure. But we do have two embryos on ice, and ML is intent on a sibling for babycakes.

SO, it IS a totally loaded question.
I know its okay to not have a plan, but people keep asking.
Loaded.


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Kiki Baba

Its my birthday today. The best birthday that I've celebrated in years. I can't help but reflect on what the past year has brought me.

My babycakes is passed out on the couch, what we thought was a late nap appears to be a baby down for the count. It was a busy day with lots of folks here to celebrate with mimosas and donuts. Sweet boy must be exhausted.


Last year, even at 8+ months pregnant, I didn't fully believe that my dreams were coming true. I was waiting until I had that baby in my arms to finally breathe. But here he is, asleep on the couch, and I am planning his first birthday.

Birthing my son was an experience unlike any I could have ever imagined or prepared for - and I rocked it. Parenting an unhappy baby, one who screamed for months, reduced me to basic survival. Watching my lover reveal the most loving fatherly heart melted mine. Experiencing my dreams coming true - this year has been so full of the highest highs and lowest lows - nothing about it has been easy and yet everything about it has been amazing.

Please join me in toasting to another amazing journey around the sun!

Kiki Baba

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Thursdays with Baby Cakes


Written By Grandma

Looking at wisps of baby fine hair, the swirls of a perfectly made ear, the dimples of a chubby hand and wrist; listening to the sweet regular breathing of a sleeping baby; feeling a trusting body molded into my chest—these are the gifts I get to soak in every Thursday afternoon.  This is when my grandson and I are together for playtime and then a “Grandma nap.”

Meditation is a time of “just being,” contained or extended thought, reflection, and a time to think
about something deeply. I have been taking classes on meditation for several years and struggle to fit in a regular practice; there always seems like something else needs to be done.

However, when it is “Grandma nap time,” Baby Cakes and I rock in his room, while he is snuggled against me in the Moby, a quiet place with white noise (this little guy has acute hearing and an intense interest in what is going on around him),and I sing my favorite MaryLee lullaby “Noyana” to him.  There is nothing else that commands my attention.  My phone is not with me and my thoughts are only on my gratitude of being with this precious child.

Baby Cakes gets a long nap and I get a long time for mindful awareness, with numerous benefits: physical, emotional, cognitive, and behavioral. What a wonderful combination!  As his naptime begins to wane, and he shifts, wiggles, opens his sleepy eyes and sees me and then smiles and grabs a few more winks, I melt further into the rocking chair and hug him just a tiny bit closer.  This waking may take some time and I am in no hurry for it to end (though I do look forward to playtime that follows!).  Sometimes the dog barks outside and in an instant BabyCakes rears his head, opens his eyes  and is on alert… “What did I miss?” or “let’s get moving, right now!”

Moral of the story, you don’t have to wait to be a grandmother (or grandfather) to grab those times of
“just being” with and enjoying your child.  Even with an endless to do list, the days (and nights) do pass by and your memories of breathing in, watching and soaking in the presence of your child are more than worth it.

Is it Thursday yet?

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My mom wrote this last month for a local newsletter.
I had to share.

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Random Fear

I worry like crazy that someone is going to sneak into my house at night and steal my baby.

Otherwise, I generally feel like my baby cakes is invincible. I don't worry about illness, or injury, or anything bad happening to him.

But I am obsessed with this fear of someone stealing him out of his crib at night.
Too weird.

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