Breastfeeding

At 11 weeks postpartum, I'm still having positive changes.....Last night my left breast started squirting milk rather than producing tiny drops, when I hand expressed.

Body, Where are you?

Went dancing today. First time I've done anything physical since labor. Got there. Listened to the music. Moved. But I couldn't find my body. And my knees hurt. They hurt like they did after the marathon. Probably because my low back was sore because I have no ab strength. But my body was missing.

I think my soul hovers behind me, in the upper corner of the room to my left. At least it's close by. There is a part of me that shattered away, gone to another universe. That part I can never retrieve.

So I moved and danced. And had no heart. I left early. One step at a time.

Swimming will strengthen me. Yoga will bring me back.

Breastmilk Search

Dave told me to approach finding breastmilk like a job - so I hired an assistant. Her name is Laura and she is amazingly plugged into the world of breastmilk exchange.

She lives in Vancouver and has been doing this type of service for years - way before facebook made it easy. Within a few hours of hiring her, she found me 4 donors, 2 of which may be ongoing (my dream).

She is also an expert in how to ship breastmilk at the safest and cheapest way possible. One time she shipped 2,800 ounces to a single mom. THAT is amazing. (Satchel isn't too upset about having to share his freezer space as he's trying to get into the breastmilk fetish market).

Keeping up with all her leads yesterday was a bit difficult - she's fast and a talker - so I spent lots of time on the phone and email and facebook. She had me create a one time blog to refer potential donors to. She had me identify drop points around the country (within my price range) of friends who would be willing to ship milk from donors in their city, then I had to post on 5 websites about my story and that I was looking for milk.

She says it's hard to get milk in Portland right now - there are 3 sets of twins and 8 other moms looking for full supplies. I feel so fortunate that I've been able to do it this long for Lazadae.

Having someone out there looking for me has been such a relief. Up until this point I was getting a large stash in (100 ounces or so) every week and I was able to have one scheduled a few days after the last pickup. But I was never able to find an ongoing donor myself, so having her looking will be so helpful.

Little Lazadae; a double Aries with a Pieces moon - a child of the universe.

My Timeline

More and more and more I've been thinking that my breastfeeding issues are related to my miscarriage. I believe the body is sensitive to anniversaries and time and the timing of Azu-zu passing and Lazadae being born and the deep grief I felt in April of the past 2 years is connected.

April 6 - Azu-zu died | April 1 - Lazadae born

May 21 - I begin to feel like myself | Around this time this year I started to feel like myself

May 26 - I let go | Around this time this year I started to accept that the way I breastfeed now is the way it might be

June 1 - I bury Azu-zu

I also want to note that April 6th of this year (without me making the connection at the time) was the worst day of our postpartum. I had been up for 8 days since labor with only about 10 hours of sleep dispersed over that time. I had reached the point before exhaustion and needed to sleep.

It was the day we put Lazadae in the harness and I had emotional breakdown after emotional breakdown and Dave was beyond concerned for me. It was the day we realized I wasn't making milk and Lazadae was starving and we didn't know what to do.

That night I had to get some sleep and Dave spent the night with an inconsolable, hungry baby (our only night like that) for a few hours. I woke in the middle of the night and struggled out of bed to find Dave asleep on the couch and my daughter sleeping alone in a cold, dark kitchen in her car seat. I sobbed as I watched her, thinking that everything I wanted for this child was lost. that day and night was the worst of my life. I still feel pain when I think about it.

So over the past 10 days I changed some things. I stopped doing the things I don't like doing to try to being my milk in. I stopped tracking every ounce and time I fed Lazadae. I stopped pumping and the quality of my life greatly improved. I stopped drinking Shatavari because it tastes bad and sometimes gives me migraines. I tried a new supplemental feeding (the Lact Aid) and I really like it; there is a rhythm and ritual to preparing the bags and I would even describe using it as fun. I've also begun being okay with this situation as a long-term possibility over the next 2 years or so.

I'm still taking herbs that support breastfeeding. I'm taking the max dose of Domperidone. I'm still working with Bob to balance my hormones. I'm still working with Meg on possibilities (she's never seen anything like this and is consulting with the nation's expert on low milk supply to try to help me). And just like the miscarriage, I've stopped wondering when the big event will happen. I don't wake up disappointed anymore. I've let it go.

Over the course of the past 10 days, I've felt engorgement and let down. My boobs are sore when Dave takes the middle of the night feeding and I get to sleep for 7 straight hours. Occasionally, I can tell when Lazadae needs to feed by the feeling in my breasts. And when I'm feeding her I feel dull, deep aches in different parts of my breast.

But the best thing that has happened since letting go is that last night, while sitting on the toilet, drops of milk started landing on my thighs. I looked up to the ceiling not knowing where this gray water was coming from. And then I saw it, beads of milk at the end of my nipples. I'd wipe some away and more would appear. This happened randomly - I didn't miss too long of a feeding, I wasn't stimulating my breasts.

(After this I did run to the pump, only to feel a little down that nothing came out. Won't do that again.)

I know it's dangerous to compare timelines and feel that something great will happen soon. But this feeling isn't a feeling that will make me sad if it doesn't happen. It's just an interesting parallel and when I think about it I feel good - and that's half the issue here.

Placenta

I think, maybe, out of everything that happened during my birth, the thing that causes me most grief is how my placenta was handled. She was born at 7:04 and by 7:05 my placenta was already torn from my body. Her cord cut as she was being pulled from me and handed to someone who was not her mother.

Little Lazadae didn't get any cord blood, the blood that belonged to her. She didn't have that privilege. And I didn't have the privilege of letting my placenta remove itself naturally. I also didn't get to keep it.

I asked. They said they had to send it to pathology because "of my situation". I didn't say anything. I didn't refuse to allow them to take a part of my body and send it to the lab. I didn't say the words, "I do not consent". I allowed it to happen. I didn't even think twice. I was so out of my body.

This is what I realized yesterday after I called Pathology to request the release of my body. They said they usually keep it for 6 weeks but "for some reason" still had mine.

I know from other peoples exerpeince getting their placenta "released" is not easy. Thankfully, once again, my hospital experience has been great. They said yes, sure, of course, no problem. Others have spent weeks fighting for it.

After I got off the phone with the hospital I was thrilled - finally I had accomplished something birth related on my own - I can have my placenta. In the next minute I was down, just realizing that they didn't even have a right to it in the first place.

My placenta has been soaked through with formaldehyde. I can't eat it. I can't make medicine from it. It shouldn't be in the freezer next to food and technically, I shouldn't even bury it. But I need it. I want to do a ritual with it.

I'm waiting for a call back from a funeral home to see if they can cremate it and I can have the ashes. The one issue with this is that a placenta is all organic material. When a body is cremated the ashes are the bones minus the marrow - the rest of the body, the organic stuff, is burned off.

What the hospital did allow us to do is examine and touch it. They even left us alone in the room with the placenta after the birth. Midwife Kim got gloves, we explored and took pictures.

I wonder if I had the opportunity to ingest my placenta if my milk would be better.

Breastfeeding Redefined

I have a plastic tube taped with hypoallergenic, porous taped to my aerola that sticks out a quarter an inch from my nipple. It's attached to a 4 ounce bag that is tucked inside my bra. This is how I feed my baby.

This is a more manageable method than what I've been using for the past 5 weeks - a hard tube that I slipped between her mouth and my nipple that is attached to a bottle.

Prior to that I feed her with a syringe between my nipple and the corner of her mouth.

I hate this.

And I love this.

If I didn't spend 10-20 hours a week seeking donor milk, then picking up the milk, I would have so much more time to spend with Lazadae. If I didn't spend this time seeking I would have no idea about the generosity of people in this world.

A woman drove from Tacoma with the express purpose of delivering me 100 ounces of milk. Then she pumped so I could have fresh milk to give my daughter.

Another woman offered to nurse Lazadae.

People are amazing.

My situation breaks my heart.

As some of my feelings begin to sort themselves out, I'm beginning to wonder if my miscarriage, and how that all went down, plays a role. I never had time to recover my body. And now my body doesn't work. At least it worked to make Lazadae.

I'm trying to think of myself as a breastfeeding mother. Lazadae is such a big help with this - she always knows my breast will give her milk, no matter how it's delivered behind the scenes.

Baby Time

I'm sad about Lazadae growing up. I'm sad that I already feel this skin to skin bed in time is soon to be over. Her newborn phase is short. Her child time is short. And as Dave says, she's going to be an adult for a long long time. I love this baby time so much. This is why people want more babies.

Dave reminded me how sad I was when Satchel was a puppy and I'd think about loosing that time. And he grew up and now we get to enjoy his distinct personality as an adult. And I don't feel sad anymore about him not being a puppy.

People are drawn to babies. It must be because they are pure energy - absolute innocence and also because of how sweet this time is.

I don't want to loose a second of my time with Lazadae. And then I feel guilty because I'm doing other things -like blogging when it would be nice to be holding a sleeping baby. But I know that is ridiculous AND I don't ever want to over identify with Lazadae as her mom.

Her needs almost always override my needs and I follow her flow of hunger and sleep. I also want to be sure that she is a part of our world - so wearing her is important to me. That way she can be a participant of what I do without me sacrificing my time 100% of the time.

I also made a mental list of who I am in this world as a way of becoming me again. My goal is to do something, even if it's just a little bit, of who I am. I am someone who enjoys the farmer's market. I am a person who likes to walk. I am a reader. I am a blogger. Eventually I will be a yoga-doer and a dancer again.

Our Birth Story - Day 2, Part 4

Thursday, March 31, 10 a.m. - 5 p.m.

...Dave thought of Fernhill Park where I could walk some hills, which would hopefully kick labor back into gear...

Throughout the labor I wound up taking three car rides, each of which were fairly manageable thanks to the Zada's back bucket seats, which allowed me to swivel my legs and move through contractions easily.

Armed with a bottle of Recharge and a handful of poop bags, the four of us walked up and down the park's hills, stopping for contractions. Toward the end I had more energy than Dave, who kept asking me if I was ready to go home.

Midwife Laurie napped on the couch back at our house, and left shortly after we returned. As soon as the door closed on her way out, my contractions started back up again, the performance anxiety having ended.

A couple of hours went by, during which time the contractions felt bigger and closer together. Then they began to slow again, which created a great deal of frustration.

I moved to labor in the bathroom for the first time, where I had a major, teary breakdown wondering what was going on. With such an irregular contraction pattern, I wondered how I was ever going to get through this. As the video linked above shows, I was managing my contractions pretty well, but feeling a little hopeless about the timeline (already in the 37th hour).

After about an hour in the bathroom I called Bob, our naturopath. He came over around two o'clock with a pineapple, pulsatilla, insight into acupressure points, and new hand maneuvers that Dave could use to help ease the back labor. Dave immediately cubed up a bunch of pineapple, which I savored for the rest of labor. The acupressure points were immediately helpful. As for the pulsatilla, it was meant to bring on stronger contractions. It was time to move things along. As much as we laughed at the idea of having an April Fools' baby, we both agreed -- as did the midwives -- that March 31st would make a great birthday.

The pool had cooled throughout the day, and Courtney was ready to get back in. I started the process of draining it by scooping out about two-gallons of water at a time and tossing it bucket-by-bucket out in the grass. Once the water level went down, I went about refilling it using two five-gallon boiling pots I used to use for brewing beer.

With Courtney in the water, we figured out a few good positions in which I could use both the acupressure points Bob showed me as well as the hand maneuvers on her sacrum and lower spine. At one point Courtney said, "I'm never getting out of this tub." I started thinking maybe the baby would be a water birth after all.

It was either the pulsatilla, the acupressure or the water, but something was suddenly making labor feel much more intense, with occasional back-to-back contractions. At this point in the labor I began feeling rectal pressure, a sign of baby descending. In my laboring mind I started freaking out, fearing that I wasn't going to be able to do this anymore, and that it was going to hurt too much. In my midwifery mind, I estimated my dilation to be around 6 or 7 centimeters, and that I was nearing transition.

In the middle of a contraction I told Dave to call the midwives. I was scared.

Midwife Kim arrived a little before five o'clock -- hour 43 of labor -- which seemed like only a few minutes after Dave called her but in actuality was over an hour. She carted in all of her stuff - midwifery bag, oxygen tank and knitting supplies, always a good sign that she'd be here for the long haul.

Our Birth Story - Day 2, Part 3

Wednesday, March 30, 6 p.m. - Thursday, March 31, 10 a.m.

After she left, Dave, the pups and I prepared for our second night of labor . . .first by walking down the street to Woodlawn Park, where Dave and the dogs had been earlier in the morning.

In the last month to six-weeks of pregnancy, we both felt the dogs were being a little neglected, primarily because I became super busy with a number of time-sensitive projects while, at the same time, Courtney's mobility had decreased. Here we were in actual labor and the dogs were actually getting exercised more than they had grown use to . . .

We stayed at Woodlawn for about 20 minutes or so, enough time for the dogs to run around and for me to have a few contractions up against some trees.

Night came on quickly. I tried the chair again then labored in the bed for a while, but was using too much energy moving from resting to contractions so I moved to the kitchen.
Here I bounced on a medicine ball between contractions, and when a contraction came on, I leaned on the table. I did this for well over an hour in the dim glow of the light over the sink.

At this point, I would sit on the ball between contractions, moving continuously because of the back pain. During a contraction I'd immediately stand and lean over the table with Dave pressing on my back. Maji filimed this video of a short contraction. She ducks out from behind the camera, then leaves the room when the contraction starts. After the contraction ends, I tell Dave that I lost more water during the contraction, which is something that happened throughout labor.

I was still having intense back labor, and nothing helped. I thought the birthing tub might help, but with my contractions still fluxuating between 5 and 15 minutes apart, I was afraid the water might slow labor down. Dave called Laurie to check in about this, and she gave the go-ahead to get in. She also said she'd stop in to check on us in a few hours.

Filling the pool was definitely the most work I'd done yet during the labor. Filling it with air and hot tap water was easy enough; the dozen or so five-gallon pots of boiling water was another story. Still I enjoyed the sweat and sudden burst of movement on my part. It definitely kicked in a fourth wind for me, and I knew Courtney would benefit from being in the water.

I felt immediate relief to my back as soon as I got in the tub. For a few contractions, the pain felt really light. Once my body got used to the temperature, however, the pain increased slightly.

I was definitely getting into a steady rhythm, and was surprised by this. This was the only place I wanted to be. During contractions I would lean over the side and hold Dave's hands and arms. The rhythm kept up until Laurie arrived.

After she checked my vitals, I noticed that my contractions began to dwindle, and the rhythm that had been building up suddenly shifted back to the irregular contraction pattern of earlier. I didn't think I'd be someone with "performance anxiety" but that's what it felt like.

I moved out of the water and into the Huxtable chair where I labored and actually slept through a few contractions. After about an hour of this, and with labor continuing to slow, Laurie suggested that we walk. Dave thought of Fernhill Park where I could walk some hills, which would hopefully kick labor back into gear.

Lazadae's First Outings

Her first outing was to Woodlawn Coffee and Tea when her Godparents Dan and Stacy were visiting. She drew some attention and enjoyed herbal tea.

Her first evening outing was a poetry reading by her Daddy on May 8th when her Grandparents were in town. This time she drew a crowd of attention. We had to leave just once during one of Dave's poems, but made it back just in time for a birth control poem and a few choice others.

I also got to breastfeed in public for the first time (I'm not counting the time in the empty waiting room of a doctor). I felt so proud and happy and really special to be feeding her in public. The bottle was a bit hard to manage on my own - getting the cap off, threading the tube through the nipple, detangling the kink that formed in the tube, slipping it between nipple and mouth -but we got it! And we were both very happy.

Here is a link to 2 poems Dave read that are fitting for this blog. The first is my very favorite - the Lazadae poem (renamed to Lazadae). It's all about her. The second poem is a new one called For the Daughters. It's all about the three generations of us.

Lazadae: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jf4ZahLs-w4

For the Daughters: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vCVUkzyZmrc

Her third non-doctor outing was to fish fry with the grandparents. We were those people who left their baby in her car seat in the corner of the booth. She loves her car seat and passes out. I'm thinking of bringing in her car seat when we're alone and mommy needs to nap. Or else I can just put her hat on - at the site of that thing she usually passes out.

Today Lazadae and I are having a bed in. After weeks of visitors and appointments I've started to feel a little far away from those first three weeks we spent in bed together. So here we are, naked and together - totally connecting (and blogging) and enjoying our time together.

She also has a diaper rash, so the fresh air will do her booty good. And you never know, maybe it will help my milk supply. At the very least, we're having fun (she's sleeping on my chest right now).

Crazy Lady

Last night I dreamt that I was in an insane asylum because I kept pumping my breasts and nothing would come out but I kept trying and trying. The guy who used to kill people and who kept his face painted red, silver and black like a wrestler was getting out before me. Apparently he was less crazy than I.

Dready Mama Head

I got a new water bottle on Thursday. I see a lady falling off the edge, barley hanging on. It makes me feel like I have chosen good company.

I've driven twice with Lazadae and no Dave. Both times to appointments in Lake Oswego. The first time last week I had a minor panic attack; my mouth went dry, my breathing ceased and I felt very unsafe - like I was an assault victim. Like it can happen again at any moment.

And that's part of how I feel when I have a moment to my head. During these times I don't even believe I was in labor. It feels like a Cesarean was just done to me without my consent. And none of that is true.

Yesterday, the second time I was alone with my thoughts with nothing to distract me I saw my head as a very unhealthy space. I just started crying and I wasn't even aware of any thoughts I was having. It just all feels like too much.

At this point, early on in my mental recovery (which actually hasn't even begun), I am grateful to have a beautiful daughter to distract me from my head. If it wasn't for Lazadae, I would be laying in my grief, absolutely crushed by dark head.

I'm taking homeopathics to help with the emotional scarring of my birth. I'm also going to go to counseling - a woman who specializes in birth trauma. I don't want these thoughts to start creeping up when I am at home, busy with the life of a newborn.

This blog is a part of that healing. This is my outlet and I want to try to make time to use it. This morning I woke before my daughter (our queen size bed feels small for all three of us sometimes) and I took a long, hot shower to condition the dreads out. (One time in college I told Dave that if I have kids I'm going to grow dreads as an effort to maintain my coolness. Well, the dreads now come unwanted from days of sitting with my curly head resting on the back of a chair).

And now I'm here. Writing.

Our Birth Story - Day 1, Part 2

Wednesday, March 30, 4 a.m. - 6 p.m.

I was hoping I would be able to compare my labor contractions to menstral cramps, but the back labor threw everything off. I didn't even feel the contractions in my uterus. Each one began, peaked and ended entirely in my low back, causing intense pain.

The most "comfortable" place for me to labor was in the Heathcliff Huxtable recliner - now forever known as the birthing chair.

There are a few ironies about the Huxtable chair. For starters, it was given to us by our good friend Lynette. The chair's name came courtesy of another good friend, Scotty - Scotty has a strange thing for Bill Cosby, often breaking into random "Cosby-isms" for no apparent reason. Upon his first glimpse of the chair, he thought its purple geometric patterns looked like the sweaters Cliff Huxtable used to sport on the Cosby Show. It wasn't until Courtney was actually laboring in the chair that we remembered that the Cliff Huxtable character was an OB!

The chair was great because it allowed me to rest between, and move into my contractions by changing positions without having to do too much extra work.

At this time Dave moved the dog bed "nest" from the couch area to alongside the chair, using the "Jarex" beanbag seat for added comfort.

I did my best to stay as close to Courtney as possible without being intrusive, or invading her space as she worked through labor. I wanted to be ready to do whatever, whether it meant putting pressure on her back or just touching her hand while I was half-asleep on the floor. The new beanbag nest provided an amazing view of her as she worked.

Throughout my entire labor, I had an irregular contraction pattern. Sometimes my contractions were 15-minutes apart; other times, 5-minutes. Occasionally they came back-to-back. This pattern allowed me to get sleep between contractions, which was one of the reasons I was

able to stay strong over the course of the entire 60 hours.

Still believing that Baby was head-down and on the right side, I couldn't figure out why I was having back labor. Dave and I (and the dogs of course) drove the Zada to see Jenny B, our chiropractor, for an adjustment.

This was the second time I was out of the house, the first being a morning trip to nearby Woodlawn Park so the dogs could chew each other's faces and let off some steam. While there I ran into a dude who knew the dogs from seeing them with Courtney. His dog, Lola - a Ridgeback/mutt mix, ran around with Satchel and Maji for a good 20-minutes. He and his wife had a seven-week old daughter, and when I told him about the home birth he was excited for us and wished only the best. Back home, Courtney was checking Facebook and email, and found some good inspiration from a few people about dealing with contractions and all-things labor related.

Jenny, like everyone else who palpated or examined me over the course of my pregnancy, thought the baby was head-down, and figured my sacrum was "sticky" with my low vertebrae. She adjusted me to help with that issue, and in the process showed Dave a few hand positions that would help alleviate the back pain. I felt immediate relief that lasted for about two hours.

On the way home, we stopped at New Seasons, where Dave got me a turkey sandwich on sour dough, and picked up other food supplies.

I didn't quite appreciate the out-of-body, out-of-mind feeling of labor until I stepped into New Seasons. Even the drive to the chiropractor felt somewhat normal. However, the "friendliest store in town" was also the strangest place I'd ever stepped foot in. Reflecting on any number of hallucinogenic experiences I've had in my life, ordering a turkey sandwich in a bustling midday grocery store after having been awake as a labor partner for 16 hours was by far the oddest, most intense, and in a way the most melancholy. At moments when, through exhaustion and companionship you achieve pure presence, things like a shopping trip remind me of how asleep we are most of the time. All I could think was, "What the hell are all these people doing here, and what could they possibly be shopping for on a Wednesday afternoon?"

At the checkout, the cashier asked about the coconuts I was purchasing alongside the sandwich and other things. Specifically she said, "What are you going to do with those coconuts?" Normally I'm all for the casual meaningless banter that takes place in a grocery store checkout line, but this time I was put off and annoyed, mainly by the way she asked, which seemed trite and heartless. I asked if she really wanted to know, and she took a second then said, "I guess." I said, "My wife's been in labor since last night and she asked me to bring her coconuts so she could drink the milk. So that's what I'm doing." I couldn't have gotten out of there fast enough. All I wanted to do was return to the nest with Courtney and the dogs. While I was in the store, Courtney sat in the back of the Zada and called friends Dan and Stacy to give them an update.

Once we got home, I continued laboring, this time mostly in bed. Maji spent most of the time safely in her crate - by her choice. Satchel, on the other hand, kindly arranged himself in the bed with me. With his back supporting my back, he provided continuous pressure during contractions. When Satchel was taking a break, Dave also provided back support, using the hand positions that chiropractor Jenny showed him.

Around early evening, midwife Laurie came over to check vitals. All was well, except my blood pressure was slightly elevated. There wasn't much else she could have done at that point but to wish us well and head back to her house. After she left, Dave, the pups and I prepared for our second night of labor.

Our Birth Story - Day 1, Part 1

Tuesday, March 29, 2011, 10:38 p.m. - Wednesday, March 30, 4 a.m.

To appease Dave's desire to be all literary and stuff on this epic birth story, Courtney has agreed to allow him various licenses. For example, we'll be telling the story in sections, with numbers (1, 2, etc.) setting each section apart from the next. We'll post a section or two at a time, along with pictures that were taken during various moments and phases. Courtney's telling of the story will be the main body of the narrative, while Dave's interjections will appear in italics, much like this intro-interjection here.

Dave and I had been going to bed together by 10 every night for awhile in anticipation of labor starting. On this night Dave cupped his hand on my bottom, sorta near my perineum, and fell asleep. This wasn't something he normally did and he isn't sure what led him to do it that night, but the result was that I felt my entire pelvic floor relax. Unusually, I didn't instantly fall asleep. Suddenly I heard a loud pop, felt something shift inside, and my body jerked. I asked Dave if he heard the noise as well, and he said he just felt my body react (I jerked in response).

Clear mucus was pouring on the bathroom floor. Crawling back in bed, the clock read 10:38 when a few minutes later my contractions began. The back labor started with the first contraction. It was uncomfortable to lay in bed, so I moved to the couch to deal with the back pain.

I was definitely confused as to whether or not my water broke; I was losing mucus, but not water. Because you're meant to call your midwives when your water breaks, I called Laurie around 12:45 and left a message that I wasn't "sure" exactly what was happening. Five minutes later, as I was lying on the couch, my water definitely broke, soaking through a large maternity pad, my underwear and my pants.

I waited a bit for Laurie, my pregnant midwife, to call me back. When she didn't I called Kim, my other midwife. I let her know my fluid was clear, that Baby was moving, that heart tones were good and that I was having contractions.

Courtney was out of the bed for what seemed like a while. I went into the living room to check on her. She told me to go back to bed, and I did for about three minutes. The bed was lonely without her and her pregnant body in it, even though she'd been getting up and moving to the couch to sleep for the last few weeks. This was different because I knew labor was starting. I wanted to experience as much of it as possible. Plus, I imagined she would enjoy the company. So I moved to the living room, where Courtney and I created a nest with the dog beds (the dogs, of course, were fast asleep in their crates). We spooned in the glow of the fireplace holiday lights, and for a while it felt a bit like Christmas Eve.

My contractions were about 8-minutes apart, and according to ContractionMaster.com, varied in duration from 15-to-90 seconds. Between contractions, we held a heating pad on my back; during contractions, I would get up and lean forward on the couch. And yes, it did feel like Christmas Eve, like something really special was going to happen the next day. We couldn't help but feel giddy.

WHAT I HOPE FOR YOU

WHAT I HOPE FOR YOU

To Lazadae

I hope you think of me as that guy

with the warm chest you slept on for hours

your first night alive in room 2506

of Emanuel’s family wing, but I hope

I never remind you of that, Lazadae, like when

you’re 16 and you steal a knife from the mall

kiosk because your mother used to steal things

like that when she was 16 and you have

petty thrill-based theft in your genes.

After we bring you home from the backroom

security where men discussed your permanent

record, I hope I don’t say something trite

like reminding you what a traumatic experience

your birth was, how your mother labored

at home for three days until your bowels

began to empty inside of her and we drove

in dark quiet to the hospital where she was

numbed then splayed open on the surgical slab,

her bladder pushed aside so two rubbered hands

could thumb you out and away from all you knew

of wet warmth, and how you were upside down

from how you should have been, breech,

wanting to enter the world with your toes

in your mouth. I hope I don’t tell you about the surgeon

handing you off under white lights to a woman

who was not your mother who scrubbed the blue

from your skin, cleared your lungs of all

you could not cough during birth. And I hope

I don’t remind you how you didn’t cry until I put

my hand on your limp arm and said through my surgical

mask, You’re here, Lazadae,

calling you the name that came to your mother

in a dream when you were just a splitting cell,

when she dreamt of pulling a tray of lasagna

from our oven and told me in the morning

she thought she was pregnant, then made up a word

over tea, Lazadae. The name waited for you there

in the operating room, stained my lips red as I said it

over and over and you cried first breaths. I hope

when people ask what kind of name is Lazadae

you tell a story all your own, flex your wild thumbs

and say it involves unicorns, forest nymphs, that Laz

means this and dae means that and with the unstressed

ah in the middle your name is a dactyl, perfect for a poem.

And if you shorten your name I hope you do better

than some text-generation moniker like LZA LOL

because, Lazadae, I hate that stuff. But I hope

you don’t care what your father likes or hates, and when

you don't care I hope I don't care. But I will, Lazadae.

I’ll care, but still hope you bloom into a creature

beyond your mother and me, that your legs grow long,

your eyes speak poems, your mind never takes a thing as truth

because someone says so. I hope your whole generation

is like this, Lazadae, that you and all your breech brethren

born in the dark of April in the year of the Rabbit

untangle the metaphors from the Psalms,

that you bury the nails of war, burn all currency

until you achieve a clan of rarefied vision. But I hope you don’t

try to do any of that, Lazadae, not if you wish to blend, be a girl

with pink gum in her hair, sleep with a baseball glove, find love

long before you’re old enough to know it hurts. More

than anything, Lazadae, I hope you know that songs live

in the sway of leaves and shadows, that the sounds you make

as you feed at your mother are music, that your mother’s voice

is melody, that I am merely a flute, and that you, Lazadae,

are the wind, the drum, the rhythm of new hot blood.

- Dave Jarecki

Birth Supplies are Ready

This morning I woke up and really wanted to get our homebirth supplies out in the living room instead of in my closet. I thought the project would take longer, but I did a good job organizing everything ahead of time so my morning was left free to sit around wondering if my cramps were going to turn into contractions (they didn't).

What we have here are 3 bags labeled birth, baby, postpartum.

The birth bag contains fun things like a flashlight, fish net (for scooping poop out of the tub), gloves, lube, chux pads, a mirror, unopened bottle of olive oil - things we'll need during labor. Baby bag has lots of blankets, a few hats, a heating pad, a nose bulb and a cord ring. The postpartum bag contains garbage bags, a bag for the placenta, peroxide (great for getting blood stains out), nori, sexy mesh underware and a peri-bottle with a bottle of calendula (helpful for easing the burn of peeing postpartum and helping to clean the area).

Surrounding the bags we have a cookie sheet that provides a firm surface if baby needs chest compressions. Unlike in a hospital, during a homebirth we believe that baby needs to be near mom at all times, even during resuscitation.

There are two bowls provided. One is for me to spew in the other is to put the placenta in.

And then there are the towels. There is a pile of rag towels for wiping up messes, a pile of towels from drying me off as I get in and out of the tub and a pile of washcloths to help support my perineum and provide warm compresses. Don't worry, the midwives take care of the laundry before they leave.

Still in my closet is a bag of snacks and drinks for Dave and I that won't be coming out until early labor and my personal stash of aromatherapy oils, homeopathics and flower essences. I've also got the vinyl sheet in there that Dave will put on during active labor, a fitted sheet that I don't mind if it gets ruined, spare pillows with waterproof covers on them, a cute basket filled with diapers and wipes, a small garbage can for the disposable diapers and a bag of postpartum goodies for me - adrenal support, herbs, things I'll need in the immediate postpartum.

Happy 40 Weeks to Me and Baby

Feeling great. Energy is high. Have no physical discomfort. Feels like the haze of pregnancy has evaporated a little causing me to feel more like my non-pregnant self. I bounded down the stairs yesterday and forgot I was pregnant while I was driving. My thinking is clearer.

I'm wondering if this is my body's way of shifting into labor; creating a change of state.

Baby feels fully settled into my pelvis now and I feel that baby is wondering why it's suddenly so cramped inside.

This shift in position intensifies all of baby's movements. If baby moves his or her hands, I feel it near my cervix and up top. It's pretty neat. Baby is wiggling around a lot in there, trying to make room is my guess.

I feel baby will be here soon, even if that means in 2 weeks - which is, of course, likely to happen. I'm totally okay with waiting, am not impatient and feel good with whatever birthday baby decides to celebrate. Of course I would love to go into labor this weekend, but you know.....

I also feel very mentally and physically ready for labor. So does Dave. And I can tell baby is gearing up as well. All is well.

Oh! So That's What's Going On

Yesterday I woke up from my morning nap at 9am feeling wonderful (odd, isn't it?). I swept the living room (even weirder) then did a load of laundry (rugs of all things). I celebrated my good state with a kombucha.

After our prenatal I tried to nap, but couldn't (the weirdest of all). I had so much energy I felt like I was on speed. I wanted to go for a run or climb a mountain - do something really physical and sweat and feel my body move.

Taking this as a legitimate sign of nesting, I got super happy and excited. Dave and I went to New Seasons to stock up on some food and then settled in to watch the last 4 episodes of Californication (season 4).

After the first 28 minute episode I stood up from the couch and noticed baby had fully settled into my pelvis (well Dave noticed first). My belly looked huge and swollen. Another great change.

We went to bed thinking, maaaayyybbbbbeeeeeee something will happen soon. I was in such good spirits.

AT 3 am I woke up and realized that all my birth impatience was coming from my miscarriage experience. Unconsciously I've been worried that my body wasn't going to know how to go into labor on it's own and I'd be pregnant for too long.

The surge of energy I felt yesterday (and I'm strangely, happily awake today as well) was the most reassuring sign that my body knows what to do. Of course it does, it got this far making a baby and growing my body, I'm going to know how to go into labor without me worrying about it.

This feeling is exactly like when I decided that I wasn't actually going to have a miscarriage event. I just let it all go and a few days later everything was over. I'm excited about this.

I feel like the strings that have been holding me up have been cut and I can now gently move in the wind with my feet firmly on the ground. I'll go into labor when it's time and everything will work out.

39 Weeks 5 Days

Other than not starting labor yet, I have zero complaints right now. I don't have a wonky pelvis, my back isn't sore, I still feel great and strong, I don't have hemorrhoids, I poop just fine, my eating is healthy, no stretch marks, I don't have indigestion or heartburn, I'm not more tired than I was 5 weeks ago (though still very tired), I'm mostly in a good mood, my weepy period has passed....

And I feel so ready for labor that I'm going crazy. I really want to get this going, though, at this point, I'm not willing to do anything more than anoint my belly with rose oil every night. I'm still keenly aware that when labor begins is baby's decision and not mine. I don't want to rush things.

Dave and I have jokingly turned everything I do into a sign of early labor; I wake up in a good mood - must be early labor. I wake up in an aggravated mood - must be early labor. Today I swept the living room - labor is sure to start soon.

BP: 112/70 (Lowest yet I think. Must be all the sleep I'm getting)

Pulse: 76

Weight: 158.2 (46 pound total increase. For some moms, weight gain stops or they loose weight right before labor. I've gained exactly 1 pound since last week.)

Urine: pH 7, trace protein

Baby: ROT possibly making way to ROA and nowhere near ROP, which is good. The P stands for posterior, which stands for back labor, which stands for pain.

FHT: 140's then 160's acceleration - baby got excited about something

Fundal: 40

Belly Cast

Glad it's done. Didn't feel like doing it. Kept putting it off. But it was fun. The unfun part was when I had a contraction while it was drying and my entire uterus pulled away - that hurt.

The best part will be when artist brother Benjamin paints it in April - I've asked for no war scenes or abstract art on my belly cast.