Start of the Quest

The first child I ever really held, let alone change, was my own. It is an interesting start to my quest. As I had never felt this powerful maternal love before. I had no inkling how fond I would become of tiny infants in general.

 A normal, low-risk pregnancy, induced at nine days past 40 weeks, for no reason other than "its hot, don't you want to get that baby out?". When I expressed concern about the high Cesarean Section rate of induced mothers, my doctor allayed my fears by telling me that they were pretty sure it wouldn't come to that, and that as long as I brought my birth plan, things should be alright. I went against my gut instincts, and got induced early the next morning. The initial check showed that I was at 3 cm, and I now know that they should have sent me home to labor naturally and come back when it was more active. Instead, they sold me on getting that baby out sooner.

Long story short, I got a C-section, for no good reason. I was disrespected and left feeling less than capable. Even the lactation consultants at the hospital treated me less than kindly "The baby isn't latching on correctly. You just aren't doing it right" but no one could tell me what I was doing incorrectly, and how to fix it. Worry not, dear reader, I was very set on breastfeeding and two weeks of bleeding nipples later, I figured it out, but not without many bouts of hormonal "I'm a terrible mother!" crying jags. 

My daughter, Estella, on her first day home

That birth left me feeling cheated out of a rite of womanhood. I knew we wanted another child, and when it was time, I was going to be ready. I found many more books preaching "natural childbirth", and quickly gave away my copy of "What to Expect", which I felt had very much let me down. I read everything I could find at my local library, I found some great online forums and I started getting excited about birth again. Before my daughter was one, we were pregnant with our second child. Overjoyed about it and ready for the challenge of natural childbirth, we set out to find the very best practitioners. We ended up with a midwife who agreed to take me on as a HBAC (Home Birth After Cesarean) client. We went this route because all of the hospitals in our area would give me an automatic C-section if I didn't go into labor by my 40th week, and I knew I would go past (although I hoped I wouldn't). 

My midwife was a wonderful, soft spoken, but strong woman. She was petite and perfect. She didn't boss me around like the OB I had before had, which was very important to me. I wanted to be the boss of this show. The labor was peaceful and did so much to restore my faith in myself and my body. My son was born with a perfect 10 APGAR score and nice long digits. I bled a lot while trying to deliver the placenta, as it took an inordinate amount of time to come out. The midwife gave me some herbs in a capsule and the placenta gave up and came out, relieving me greatly. I had zero problems nursing my son, so the midwife stayed for a few hours to make sure I was rested and settled in well, during which time she did my laundry and dishes.

My births aside, it was the research I did to prepare for my second birth, and the passion was borne out of my mistreatment during the first birth. Now that I have two children, I have been working toward finding my passion, my purpose, finding work that isn't work at all. I have considered helping birthing women for a few years now, but never really thought I could do it. But every year that passes that I don't do something about it, makes me sigh with regret. We all know that life is too fleeting to not do what we have a passion for. Too short to listen to modern ideas like "go where there's money", because the real modern idea I've been hearing is "Follow your bliss and you'll find money". If you love doing something enough, you will figure out the money part. Somehow.

Up Next: My Doula Class!