Screenagers

 I had a conversation with my fourteen year old son tonight after holding a parenting workshop on screens and media.  He told me that he was embarrassed because he had to ask a peer how to use a controller on a video game console when offered one at his home.  He cried while telling me this.  He was really embarrassed.  My son does not cry easily.  Then he told me he never wants to invite his friends to our home because there is "nothing" to do here.  By nothing he means they cannot watch TV, play on phones next to each other, or play video games.  By nothing he means no screens.  His demeanor was gravely serious and I truly felt like he was reaching out to me for help.  The problem is the only help he wants is for me to buy him a smartphone and video game console.  He doesnt want to talk about why I do not want those in our home.  He doesnt want to hear about the effects of screens anymore even though every now and then we do cover something he didnt know.  His response to this is that I have done my job for the past 14 years and now he is fine and all ready for the world of screens, social media, extreme video games.  I should just buy him the smartphone and the gaming console.  We talked about how he really wants to play games like Madden and The Show.  These are both exttermemly realistic sports games.  Of all the games out there, I am less concerned about this content.  That being said, these games connect to outher players on the internet, they have product placement and try to get you to pay to up your fun factor.

I decided to use his daily screen time to download this game and play it with him on his computer.  We played the game and I pointed out the product placement.  I pointed out how fast the game went and how if you play for long enough, they are going to want money for the best opportunities to continue playing.  His dad and I decided that he could play this game, but only on a PC, only against the computer, and he could not pay for anything.  So now for his daily computer time this is what he does.

I am trying to enter his world, give him something to talk to his friends about, but I also am completely saddened and maddened at what teenagers have become.  Why is this the only thing they do?  I know my son is better off being bored around our house than playing hours of video games all weekend with friends through the internet.  That being said, this is the way they "socialize".  Sometimes a friend will meet him at the park and play real sports, but freqently they 'hang out" on snapchat or video games and because of that my son is not a part of it.  I know his love of reading comes from being bored.  I know his excellence in sports comes from practicing all the time at home.  And he is alone or with us all the time which builds relationships but also builds a bit of resentment in us for not letting him do the other things.  I do not want this to be the forbidden fruit.  I also am passioantely against screens, internet, and social media with a develping brain of this age.  I feel constantly alone trying to navigate this.  I want a strong relationship with my son more than anything and he resents this in me.  I want him to have peer relationships, but they do not exist much because of how virtual they are and how none of his peers wants real face to face connection.  Face to face connection and communication will be a crucial skill set in this digital world he is growing up in. How do I give him that when he is constantly pissed at me for our values as a family.  How do I maintain my values and listen to my son's struggles.   How do you raise the next generation to be human in a digital world?  

Parenting is so hard.  I tell the parents I work with that their job is not to fix the problems, but to be there to support their child through the struggle.  I really hope that I am right.  I hope that I dont destroy any future I have with my kid over this issue.

Covid Questions....

We are about to hit the mark of a year here in California of Covid policies.  A year of processing and I still am left with so many questions.  Questions that if I ask them out in the world, are squahsed almost immediately with some vague response that usually includes the phrase, "safety first".

As I began to process about a year ago, the mask had become the symbol to me of what this pandemic could do to our mental health.  As I engage in conversation with those who mean a lot to me and even strangers, I realize it has very little to do with the actual mask, but what it has come to represent.

I understand the reasoning behind the mask for those who believe this is a health crisis.  I believe in the idea that the droplets are blocked when the person wearing it speaks and that this alone can help stop the spread.  I understand that wearing one makes others who are nervous about getting ill for any reason feel more secure.  I get that it is a simple thing to do and refusing seems futile and selfish.  I see this and I care!

Still, for how long does protect and respect outweigh all other parts of our lives, of our personhood?

The first question I have is: How long?

How much longer are we willing to not see the smile of a friend out in public?  Wearing them in a grocery store for eternity may not be that big of a deal, but classrooms, workplaces, eight hour workshifts???  All without smiles or fresh air?  For years on end?

I worry about what this is doing to the children.  They are resilient, but still the idea that we cannot share air with other people or much less a snack, really scares me.  It is becoming part of their being, one I personally am not willing to teach.

And lastly, does blocking all these germs really serve us in the long run?  Don't our immune system need the bacteria, the viruses?  All that stuff that exists in dirt, our gut and the exchange between the two.  Clearly I am no doctor nor immunologist, but that doesn't mean I don't understand a bit about my own body.  There is research pointing to those who garden, have a pet, etc... being healthier.  Does that no longer matter?  How long can our bodies take this?  How long can our hearts and minds?

What has terrified me even more than the mask though, so much that I can barely write these words without shaking, is social distancing.  From the very beginning, I was in shock that we would ever even consider stop visiting loved ones, stop hugging loved ones, see people through glass only.  That our society went from publishing stories about the 20 second or longer hug benefitting our brain chemicals to hug people only for a few seconds and hold your breath if you dare to get that close at all.  I hugged a friend in line at a store recently and could feel the glare of those around me.  It is unacceptable to show physical affection.  That all the benefits of touch for our mental health could have been abandoned and so quickly and for so long leaves me in a state of complete shock.  We are letting our loved ones die alone!  We are allowing that.  I feel like everything in me is screaming, "NO!"  I could feel the lack of touch through every inch of my body those first few months until my life resumed some relative normalcy.  I still have not seen friends since this began and I certainly have not hugged them.  This by their choice alone.  I feel like I have been deserted by them and while intellectually I know they are doing what they feel is right and good, it is so difficult for me to understand how anyone could stop touching people for over a year.  

Therefore, the second question is: What about our mental health?  

This seems to have been so blantantly abandoned and not discussed as if it is even remotely a factor by politicians and policy makers and therefore by institutions trying to follow the rules.  I live at a boarding school where students are required to quaratine for 14 days on end in their rooms with no interaction and 15-60 minutes of outside time a day every time someone tests positive or when returning to campus.  Even prisoners get more than that, right?  My family and friends cannot visit me without having quaratines forced on them when they return by workplaces and daycares to which they cannot afford the vacation and then another two weeks unpaid and without childcare. 

And I hope it goes without saying that replacing connection, work, and school with something on a screen is a huge mistake!  Just because we can does not mean we should.

The third question I have is: What about the environment?  We certainly saw air quality improve those first few months and saw first hand how destructive humans can be on the planet, but what did we learn from that?  Did we replace our cars with bikes?  Did anyone actually make any lifestye changes they were not forced to make? Did we go right back to life as mormal with all the free time we have from no longer having concerts, sports, etc...  And as far as single use goes, we have turned the clock back decades.  We went from banning plastic bags in our state and straws in our county to no longer allowing resuable grocery bags in our stores and having medical masks litter the grounds at our national parks.   I won't even mention the take out food containers.  All the steps I had taken in my life to reduce my consumption from bringing my own cups to places like smoothie and coffee shops and my own to go containers from take out and leftovers, are no longer allowed.  How long will it take before we can make eco-friendly choices in our own lives again?

My final question is: What about the next virus?  Covid 19 is a strain of coronavirus, coronavirus itself is nothing new.  Several viruses over the past decade have been strong and concerning to public health, but this one topped them all.  So what about the next strain of coronavirus?  The flu vaccine strain is guessed upon each year and its efficacy varies between 15%-40%.  How can we not expect the same from the covid vaccine?  In addtion, why are viruses getting stronger?  Is that a question we can address on a national level please?  Antibacterial soaps, over prescribed antibiotics, do these not make virsus and bacterias stronger?  In addition, there still seems to be questions remaining about whether this virus was man made or came from a bat.  Do we really know with certainty?  Maybe this one was not, but does that mean we can make deadly viruses in labs?  Is that an actual possibility?  Seems to me we should be making policies banning that kind of research, not policies that force emergency approved vaccines on the masses.

Speaking of vaccines, why has herd immunity become a conspiracy theory.  The WHO changed their definition of herd immunity during this crisus to say it can only be achieved through vaccination.  Why?  Stuff like this makes it hard to trust leading health organizations and certainly the politicians that rely on them.

I have so many more questions and issues with the handling of our world over the past year, but these remain the big ones.  These are the questions noone really has the answers too and yet we are not allowed to decide for ourselves how to live because safety (and by that I mean physical safety) is not the top priority, it is the only prioirty.  Our mental and economic health cannot take a back seat to our physical health without dire consequences.

Trump=Evil?

It is taken me a long time to realize this one thing: 

There are kind, compassionate, wonderful people who vote for Trump (and NO, I am not voting for him).

If this sounds radical to you, I understand.  If it feels like an oxymoron, I understand.  I was there.
As someone who has identified as far left as one can get most of her life (or so I thought), it was a hard realization.  I disregarded many of the issues on the right side of the political spectrum as fueled by selfishness.  I reduce those that voted that way to lesser humans (that is the same principle used in racism by the way).  Four years ago, I felt betrayed by anyone who voted for Trump and I know a lot of my friends and family still feel that way.  I get it.  I also likely would have stayed in that place if it wasn't for the party I most identified with politically taking an opposite stance on an issue I feel strongly about... medical freedom.  Freedom to choose what we put into and do with our bodies.

For me, if you believe woman should be able to choose on issues of abortion, how can you also tell woman they have to inject chemicals into their children's bodies for them to have the consitutional right of a free and public education?  I believe in publically financed elections and a basic minimum wage.  I feel strongly about child abuse laws and laws that protect the environment.  I believe plastic water bottles should be banned and plastic of most kind in general.  These take away freedom of choice.  I also think we have to be very careful about eliminating freedoms and civil liberties?  What is child abuse?  Is it homeschooling?  Is it allowing your nine year old to take the New York subway alone?  Is it not vaccinating?  Some believe those things qualify.  I do not.  Sometimes those types of decisions made by parents allow the government to get too involved.  I do not have all the answers, I am often confused these days, and overwhelmed when faced with a ballot.  I also know that I am growing.  Growth is painful.  In conversations with friends and family, I am often left with no answers to the questions, but feelings instead that are so strong I have to look inside for the answers. 

About eight years ago, I got involved in a movement trying to protect medical freedom here in California.  I left my family for every weekend and evenings for close to six months to fight against a bill in our legislature.  Even though I had minored in political science, worked as an intern in DC for the children's defense fund and for congressmen, I had never been so involved and seen up close as much as I did in that time period.  It changed me.  It opened the door to seeing what I thought was a far left hippy issue as one tea party members also felt strongly about.  It opened the door to so much more too.  For the first time in my life, I had people who felt differently than me about a wide range of issues also agreeing with me on medical freedom.  I had so many hard and difficult conversations and I grew from those.  I understood gun rights in a new way.  I was forced to consider the other side of many issues.  I was forced by respect and compassion to consider others with ideas radically different than those I aligned with.  I was forced to see that there are about a million different kinds of people and not just democrats and republicans.  We just do not fit into a box that easily.

I dare to say that this is happening on a much larger scale as a society with the policies surrounding Covid, that is... if we are open enough to listen, consider, and acknowledge.  It blows my mind that an actual tenent of viruolgy like herd immunity has become a poltical term and if you believe in that basic tenet of a virus at all, somehow you are a republican.  What?!

There is a quote in the movie, The American President.

"America is advanced citizenship.  You have got to want it bad.  You want free speech? Lets see you acknowledge a man whose words make your blood boil, who is standing center stage and advocating at the top of his lungs that which you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of yours."

I do not believe that America is the best country in the world because that to me says all other countries and their citizens are lesser than Americans.  I would change the quote to Citzenship in general or perhaps democracy.  None the less, this quote comes up for me a lot.

What I see happening in our country scares me.  I see the division between the right and left getting larger.  I see the hole left by that division being filled with anger, rage, and hate.  And not just from those who identify with Trump.  I see it quite strongly from democrats as well.  Terms like anti-vaxxer and anti-masker are belittling.  I was in a situation where I was mistaken for someone who was hispanic (long story), and I was treated the worst I have ever been treated by a stranger until they found out I was white and there was a sudden shift to kindness.  This is the first time I was able to actually feel what may=ny would refer to as white priveldge.  My ideas about the state of the world as illustrated above are all over the place.

If we really want to unite as country or as a species, it needs to begin with listening and with consideration.... consideration that all of us are human, we are all one and what we do to one, we do to ourselves.  And for me this means acknowledging that Trump is human, that he cares about things and has feelings, the way we all do. I cannot dismiss him as evil and all who vote for him as evil and inconsiderate even if their words make my blood boil.  Consideration is the first step to unity.  This is the only thing I know for sure.

Cloud Boy

Up in the clouds live the cloud children.  They play all day with the wind and the rain.  They go swimming when it rains and paint pictures with the rainbow colors afterwards.  Father Sun and Mother Moon take care of them.  One day, all the cloud children were playing ball, when the ball rolled right through a hole in the clouds and fell down below.  There was one little boy named Noah who ran off to c+hase it.  When he saw it fall through the clouds, he knealt down besides the hole it fell through and looked.  He saw something he had never seen before.

What Noah saw was a beautiful land with mountains, trees, rivers, and oceans.  He saw animals of all kinds and he saw people.  He thought it was the most beautiful place he had ever seen.
Everyday he returned to that hole in the clouds to watch what was happening on this beautiful land for he wanted to go there.

One day as he was watching he saw four people.  He saw a mother with brown hair that everyone called Tracy or sometimes they called her Teacher Tracy for she had lots of little children around her.
He saw a father named Josh, and two little boys, one older one named Elijah and one littler one named Jonah.  He saw them hiking, playing in the river, and mostly he saw them playing with balls too just like Noah loved to do.  Noah wanted to go and play with them so badly.

So that very evening, Noah went to Father Sun and Mother Moon and told him that he wanted to go down to the beautiful land and be with this family.  The Sun and Moon were not surprised for there had been many cloud children who had wished that before and had indeed left the clouds to live on this land that the Sun and Moon called Earth.

Mother Moon explained to Noah that to travel to the land called Earth, he would get there through a dark wet place inside his new mother Tracy where he would grow a new body.  After that he would travel through a rainbow bridge to the bright land of Earth where his family would welcome him with lots of love.

Noah was very excited and he immediately said yes and began his journey.   When he got inside of Tracy he grew slowly and as his new body was growing he noticed that some parts were not growing as his old body had been.  His lips felt funny and he could not move them very well.  He began to grow slower and slower and his hands were bent instead of straight and also hard to use.  His ears were not in the right place and he could not hear very well.

Noah really wanted to travel to Earth and be part of this family.  He really wanted to play with Elijah and Jonah and all those little children in the river, so he keep working really hard to grow his body and keep his heart beating strongly.

When his body was done growing and it was almost time for him to travel over the rainbow bridge, his body became too weak and he just was not strong enough to come out and play, so he said goodbye to this new body and went back to the clouds to live with Mother Moon and Father Sun again.  He was very sad and his family was very sad too.  Tracy, Josh, Elijah, and Jonah missed Noah so much and wished that he was able to play with them.

Noah told Mother Moon and Father Sun that one day he might want to come back in a different body that wasn't so hard to grow in, but for now he would stay playing ball in the clouds and watch his Earth family from above.  And indeed, every day, he looks through that hole and watches them and whenever his family misses him, they can wave to him from below.

Loving someone you never knew

Some days I am blown away by the amount of love I have for someone I only met after his death.
I certainly was not prepapred for how hard it would be to lose him.  It felt like a bomb had hit, one I had no idea was coming even with months of preparing for all possible outcomes.

Many people know me well, they know the mother I am: the organic, protective crazy woman armed with research on screen viewing and young brains and who slept with her oldest until he was seven and nursed him until he was five.  So one can imagine what it might have been like for me to leave my baby in the hospital with strangers to never see him again.

I was blown to bits, I didnt recognize myself at all.  I don't cry easy, and I cried for five days straight.
Everything I thought I would feel was not present at all, but instead replaced with utter grief.  I didn't want to see anyone I loved except those that were present at his birth.  It was as if they were there with me when the bomb exploded and because of that, I felt drawn closer to them and wanted them around all the time.
I have been broken-hearted, sad, and depressed before, but loss is different.
I spend a lot of my days attempting to hold normal conversations with people about everyday things like the car breaking down or about their recent vacation, or even my recent vacation,  but most of the time I want to scream, "do you know what just happened, my baby died!"

So here are some things I want you to know about the person I am now, who somedays is not anyone I recognize:

• My love for Elijah and Jonah had nothing to do with Noah                                                       "It's a happy life, but someone is missing.  It's a happy life AND someone is missing."       -Elizabeth McCracken
• I count every day of what would have been his life, I always know exactly how old he would have been and so does the rest of my family.  I think we always will                                    "Your friends may say 'time heals all wounds'.  No it doesn't, but eventually you will feel better.  You'll be yourself again.  Your child will still be dead."  -Elizabeth McCracken
• When people don't mention him or what just happened to us, it makes me feel isolated and alone in this reality.  You cannot remind me that he died, I feel it all the time                        "Our child dies a second time when noone speaks his name."  -Mitch Carmody
• How I approach life with my children has differed, at least internally.  I no longer think, "that won't happen to me" or "everything will be fine".  In fact, there is an intense video in my head anytime there is any danger anywhere close.  I visualize it happening and feel for a moment that it just has.  I have to remind myself before I react that it hasn't happened yet and approach my children in that way.  The other day Elijah was acting as bat boy for his dad's team and I almost stopped him because I was so sure he was going to get hit by the bat of the player on deck.  I have visualizations of my boys dying from such injuries.  I know some of this is normal for all mothers, but the panic that accompanies it now is different.                         "Once you have been on the losing side of great odds, you never find statistics comforting again." -Elizabeth McCracken
• I have read a lot and remarkably all of what I have read has been raw, and comforting, and has allowed me to know that I am not alone and I will survive this.  Mostly though, the authors have taught me so much about being present for someone as they grieve.  Before Noah, I never would have known what to do, now, I think I understand.                                                        "On good days I can look ahead and understand that I will always be becoming who I am.  On good days, grief is part of me that I can learn to carry.  But I am wise enough to know that I will need you to restore me to myself on the bad days, when the most I can do is so much less"  -Elyria Rose

While it is true that people have to go back to their lives and cannot be there in a way that I always want, it is also true that I am so fortunate for what I have experienced since his diagnosis and his death.  I was not told, like many woman that I had to get over it when leaving the hospital or to move on because of my other children.  Instead I have countless cards, phone calls, dinners, flowers, and love. Instead I have the love and understanding of an enormous tribe.

• I have friends who have left their families for days to be with me
• I have family who dropped everything to fly hundreds of miles to meet their nephew/cousin not knowing if they would ever get to see him again or if they would even get to see the color of his eyes
• I have midwives who climbed into bed to hold me while I cried
• I have women who have faced the same fate and whom have become a family I never would have wanted and who came over and shared there stories so we could cry together
• I have a therapist who came to the hospital and to my house to hold my hand while my body healed and milk dropped from my breasts and gave us a beautiful piece of art to hold our memories of Noah inside
• I have mothers from my school holding their own babies who hugged me simultaneously despite the fact that facing baby death must have ripped them apart from the inside out 

I know I will survive not despite Noah, but because of him.  Because of what he gave others who in return gave to me.

Noah is now:  a urn, a quilt hanging above my bed, a dream catcher, a memory keeper.  He is a picture of a pregnant belly, a friend's watercolor picture painted of cloud boy.  He is river rocks I collect.  He is the blanket he was wrapped in.  He is a garden and a treehouse.  He is irreversible lessons about life, love, connection, longing, and loss.  What a legacy for someone who never took a breathe outside my womb.

Noah's birth

Noah... that name has had so many different meanings to me throughout my life with special people, but right now it is most precious.

I had much more leeway with this pregnancy because of Noah's diagnosis so while I have always gone to 42 week or a bit longer, my midwives had no problem with going 43 or 44 weeks or more this time.  I really wanted to see what my body would do on its own since the last two times I had to break my water to get labor started if I wanted to stay with my midwives.  I decided at 42 weeks though that the anticipation of the unknowns with this baby was getting to be too much for my family.  So I decided to only wait until 43 weeks and the day after that to go in and have my water broken.  I had made the decision, but was still unsure going into it if it was the right one.  When we got to the birth center, they broke my water and there was light meconium which got a bit darker throughout the day.  It made me feel better in a way because I knew that meant it was time for him to come out.  I was so sure that labor would start, it worked like a charm both times before.  We stayed in SB, walked on the beach, had lunch with a friend, etc...  nothing happened.  Went home, had dinner with my sisters who arrived that day, nothing happened.  Went to bed, nothing happened.

I was quite upset in the middle of the night thinking that something was wrong, I couldn't understand why this wasn't working with such an advanced pregnancy.  Josh couldn't sleep either.

The next morning (Sat, April 29th), we went back to the birth center to talk further.  They mentioned a medicine called cytotec which works well in these situations, but I had regained my faith and wanted to wait 24 more hours to see if I could still start labor on my own.  I told them that is what I wanted to do, but that I thought we should check his heartbeat one more time, I had only felt slight movements in the last two days.  So she did a belly check, she thought he was lower, even though my cervix had not changed in many weeks.  Then she did a check for his heartbeat.  Every time we had checked his heartbeat regardless of how much movement I felt that week, it was always very strong. My midwives always found it quite easily.  But this time, it wasn't there.  Even though my midwife did a very thourough check twice, I knew when she checked the first place that he was gone.  Maybe that is why I asked for the heartbeat check that morning.

That news changed everything because for a body to start labor when the baby is not alive can take much longer to happen and eventually there is risk of infection to me.  So we began a course of labor inducing medication.  We waited at the birth center for hours and I did enter early labor.  I labored there all day, but Josh and I were already dealing with the grief of losing our baby.  I mentioned something about just wanting to go to the hospital to handle this with medication because the emotional strain was enough.  One of my midwives encouraged this and after talking to some people I trusted, I decided that I didn't want to face the possibility of much more difficult induced contractions.  So a few hours later, we went to the hospital.  When we got to the hospital things started to change.  I started to shiver uncontrollably even though I felt warm outside.  Nausea started and things just seemed out of control.  I think it was a side effect of the medication, but I had also begun to spike a fever and get an infection.  If I had stayed at the birth center, I would have been transfered at that point.
The contractions coming were manageable for a long time and I told them to wait until I asked for the epidural.  Everyone at the hospital was wonderful and my midwives Laurel, Alice, and Alissa were all there as well as was my wonderful friend and doula Genevieve.  They gave me a second medication that meant I had to stay in bed lying down and then the contractions went from manageble to feeling constant with really tough spikes which felt like those were coming fast too.  At one point I asked for the epidural, but of course the anestheoligist was at home and could not make it there for about 45 minutes.  By the time I got the epidural and a catheter was placed, they checked me and I was fully dialted.  When they placed the second medication, I was still at one centimeter, which meant I went from 1 to 10 in a little over 2 hours. Maybe that is why I was shaking.  I pushed him out in 20 minutes.  He was born at 10:48 pm. I think Josh may remember some things differently than my timing on all of this, but regardless, it felt very fast.  I was in shock when they told me I could push.

Things I remember are that he was very tiny, his placenta was tiny, and that he looked like he had been gone for a while.  It was an overwhelming stream of emotions from that moment on.  After holding him for a while, Josh and our team of angels (the only word close enough to explain my midwives and doula) washed and dressed him.  He stayed with Josh and I overnight and his brothers and many family and friends met him in the morning.

I don't want to share everything about our time with him or our goodbyes, but I will say that Noah has changed me for the rest of my life.

He has changed everything.

Living without him is much harder than I could have ever imagined.  I miss him so much and am so thankful he chose me to be his mama.  He will always be my little bird.

Baby Blessing

About a month ago the mamas in my school, all women I would be honored to call my friends, hosted a baby blessing for me and Noah.  Three of my friends from LA also came to celebrate with me and to give me a beautiful gift of pregnancy photos.
There really are no words to describe what that day was like.  Usually having all that attention on me would make me quite uncomfortable, but we entered into a circle of words, candle lighting, and offerings for Noah that continue to leave me without words to this day.  I can say two things about this day though:
1.  It really felt as though all 25 of us had entered into the same space for almost three hours.  There were no distractions from what was happening and I felt at peace and truly held with love for so long. I really did not want it to end.
2.  It was quite an honor to hear how Noah was affecting all of them, what he brought to them, and how he had changed them.  What a special person who can do that before he is even born,

I am almost 36 weeks, full term on Thursday and I am nervous about what is to come so this will likely be my final writing until after he is born.  Thank you again for sharing with us in his journey.
Here are some pictures from the blessing and the photo shoot.  (Thanks Melissa for capturing such a wonderful day!)

 

 

Noah means rest and comfort

We named him Noah...  
I have seen many meanings for his name including rest, comfort, freedom, and popular one.  He is definitely living up to the last meaning so far.

We have been preparing for his arrival in many ways.  We saw a pediatric cardiologist in LA and while his heart has problems, it is relatively healthy for a Trisomy baby.  Ultimately the baby's heart will not be an immediate problem after birth.

We have met with a neonatologist at Cottage Hospital and had a NICU consult even though I think the idea is to stay away from the hospital in most scenerios.

We now have midwives and an OB in case I need to go to the hospital for any reason,  It feels like I am always seeing someone lately,

We are working on logistics that include hospice, funeral homes, and random questions like who signs the death certificate if the baby dies at home.  I sometimes have no idea where to start, or what to ask.  While it is overwhelming, we have an incredible amount of support and many who are doing the actual work for us.

The hardest part has actually been navigating the conversations with those around us.  I mentioned in the first blog post that I might not want to talk about it.  It is quite hard to have to tell the people when I see them around town mostly because it feels like I am assaulting them with bad news.  This is why I had sent out massive emails and posted it on social media.  It was much easier to tell people that way.  And most people know now.  It is still, however, a strange reality to live with.  I believe that often our friends and family don't know what to say or if they should mention anything at all.  Others mention it all the time and my sister (sweet love that she is), checks on me a few times a day.

The other part of course is that Josh and I handle it quite differently and what we need from others is different.  I know that for someone outside the situation, it has to be quite uncomfortable and many are unsure what to say or do.

For this reason, I wanted to make this update about just that.  I wanted to let you know how I am, what I am wanting/needing, and how to be with me.

What I want  you to know about my health:  This is a normal pregnancy for me in every other way. Normal for me though takes into consideration that I have a muscle disease called Myotonia Congenita.  It is mild form of muscular dystrophy which is relatively easy to live with except when I am pregnant.  Getting my muscles going from a resting position is very difficult and I can get winded and tired easier.  So this is one part that is making my job and taking care of the boys much more difficult.  If I look like I am struggling with getting up and down, it is because of this and not that I am a drama queen (not that I don't have my moments).

What I want you to know about our decision to continue this pregnancy:  A few people have in one way or another implied that we are making the right or brave decision in this situation.  While I understand again that others do not quite know what to say or are maybe just being kind, I really could not disagree with that more. We are making the right decision for us.  I was very close to ending this pregnancy.  I wanted it to be over and to grieve and move on.  I sometimes still feel this way.  If I had made that choice it would have also been right and brave.  We are simply dealing with what life has given us as all of you would do in this situation as well and the decision we have made comes with its own joys and struggles as all decisions do.  I am grateful I could make this decision for my body and my baby.  I believe all women should have the right to do so.  If any decision had been forced on me when it wasn't the right decision for me, that would have been unbearable.  I feel so sad for the women who have been in that situation.  So I want to make it clear that our decision to continue this pregnancy is in no way taking a stance on abortion.

What I want to make clear about how I handle things is this:  I have reached a place where I am comfortable talking about it for the most part.  I actually need from my friends a person who can listen in a matter of fact way and even help me problem solve or debate or sometimes listen to the joy that comes with this hard situation.

For example, just recently, a friend had done some work on funeral homes for me and told us that our local funeral home does not charge for transport, cremation, or any other service involving babies and children who die.  I cried for almost an hour when I found this out, but most of those tears were ones of joy.  I was reminded how loving and kind people are.  Mostly I was reminded that there are complete strangers who will come to your side when things are really rough.  As a human species, we all understand suffering and grief and what a beautiful thing that is.  I was happy that all families who have to bury their children get this kindness and this relief.
I want people to share in those small joys with me, to not necessarily be horrified in that moment that we have to call funeral homes about our child, but to stand with me in the feeling of oneness that I felt towards my fellow human being and to recognize the incredible gesture of kindness.

Maybe for those who have not been handling this up close and personal, this is too much to ask.  I can understand that as well.

I do want you to know that for me, it doesn't have to be an off topic conversation anymore and I am happy to answer questions about Noah.  Mostly, know that if I bring him up it is because I want to talk with YOU about it, that I value your perspective, and that you don't have to walk on eggshells around the words you use or the feelings you have about it.  Many people cry when I talk to them about it, why wouldn't they? The entire situation is tragic.  And Death is part of life.  I am not sure what life would be worth without it.  It is ok to be matter of fact or to help me see the goodness in all of this.  Mostly, I want Noah to be recognized for whatever life he has in me or outside me and what these situations bring to us all no matter how hard it is to handle at times.

We do not need anything very specific likes dinners or cleaning help right now.  We do need help with childcare from time to time and I forsee needing much more of this specific help once the baby comes especially if he sticks around for any length of time.  If I am caring for a terminally ill baby, I will let you clean my house I promise 😀.  For right now, just keep doing what you have been doing and telling us how much you care.  Thank you for providing the comfort part of his name.
We love you too!
30 weeks and counting...
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That would never happen to me...

In July 2016, we found out that we were having a third child.  I have to admit that even though this pregnancy was not exactly an accident, I was a bit terrified to be a mama to three children.  I didn't think I could handle it and still be the mama I wanted to be.  I spent months fretting over this.  In addition, the pregnancy was much harder than my other two with much more nausea and exhaustion than I had expected.

Around Thanksgiving, I started to make peace with whatever was to be and began to start seeing my life as it would soon be and imagining all the wonderful things that come with a new baby in our home.  I was starting to get excited.  We had told our boys early on which then meant the whole world would soon know as well.  They were thrilled and have spent months talking to and arguing over who will hold the baby most.

On December 6th, we went for our 20 week ultrasound and decided not to find out the sex of the baby once again, but simply to see that it was healthy and thriving.  We really hadn't considered that it would be any different.  We had denied the early genetic testing even though I was 39 because we figured that whatever they could possibly tell us would not make a difference to whether we kept the child or not.

As soon as the doctor put the monitor on my belly, he began to see things that looked not right... Cysts on the brain, a cleft lip, abnormal hands, a hole in the heart, too much amniotic fluid, and more. Josh and I sat there in shock.  I think Josh started crying, but I sat there with my hand over my mouth thinking, "but the baby is ok, this cannot happen to me".  It lasted all of about 3 minutes and then, the doctor said, "this pregnancy is not compatible with life, I am sorry.  I need to send you immediately for a genetic bloodtest, but I believe your baby has something called Trisomy 18, a chromosomal abnormality".  Then he left the room.

We went for the bloodtest and then to see our midwife who we called right after the ultrasound.  Our midwife sat with us and explained that over the next few weeks we would need to decide between ending the pregnancy or seeing what nature had in store for this baby.  We found out that many of these babies die in utero and many during birth, but that if the baby is born alive, it only has a 5% chance of making it to its first birthday.  We later found out that the doctor thinks it will make it to term because I am 25 weeks along and he thinks we will have only a few hours with this baby.
The blood test results came back after four excruciating days and confirmed Trisomy 18, also known as Edwards syndrome and told us we were having a boy.

I found out that the three day procedure for ending the pregnancy was at a "termination center" in LA that began with ending the heartbeat and concluded with a DNC.  It was extremely expensive, not covered by insurance, possibly a place that could be protested, and simply felt like something I could not do.  I felt relieved in a way to get this information because it meant that I no longer had to make a decision, the decision was now clear.  I also felt scared about what the future would hold.
If this baby dies in utero, I will need to go to the hospital and give birth.  If the baby goes full term, we have very little idea of what to expect of its condition as each of these babies present differently. We do know it will likely have trouble moving and breathing as the biochemistry is mixed up and the brain cannot tell the body what to do to survive.  We are not certain if it will be able to eat given its possible difficulty swallowing and the cleft lip. Most of these babies seem to have breathing apnea.

We told our boys and that was very difficult.  I felt like part of their innocence died that day and I know I broke their hearts.

And so for now we wait.  I have 3.5 months until my due date.  I don't know what to expect or how to handle many of the decisions we will likely have to make.  I don't know how to help my boys through this or how much to include them in the birth and death of our child.  I am just taking each situation as it comes.  I am posting about it as much as possible because having individual conversations about it is too much when it has to happen over and over again.  So if I dont want to talk about it, please understand.

I do know that I have reached a place of peace with what is and am trying to take one day/one decision at a time (not something my personality lends itself to very easily).  The peace has come with three thoughts I repeat to myself often:
1. We likely have time before we have to handle anything so being miserable for those months seems silly.  Go back to your beautiful life and live it.  What happens in the future we will handle when it comes.
2. We have two beautiful, healthy children who need us and we are so beyond fortunate to be their parents.
3. Whatever does happen in the future and however horrible it may seem now and then will only make us stronger, wiser souls.  And quite possibly there will be joy along with it.  For you can't have one without the other or so I am learning.

Our current challenge which might seem not so dificult in the face of this challenging time, is to name this baby.  Let me assure you that for Josh and I to name a third boy may actually prove impossible.  The first two times was pretty much like pulling my hairs out one by one.
I would really like to name him now for he is my child and has already taught me so much about myself.  We have no idea how long he will be with us so giving him a name as soon as possible is my goal.

We will make updates on the baby's situation here on my blog if you are interested in following his story.

Thank you to all our friends and family who have supported us so far, some calling more than once a day to check on us.  You remind us how lucky we are, how much we are loved and as a very important person my life often says, you remind us "how wonderfully messy life can be".

This is our little angel baby...

Magical Childhood

Today was a special day.  My son had his first grade celebration.  The first celebration of him leaving Kindergarten and entering the first grade.  I say the first because everything Waldorf touches seems to turn to beauty and magic and there are many symbolic ceremonies.  It is one of the main reasons my son attends a Waldorf school and why I am a Waldorf trained teacher.
In Waldorf, leaving Kindergarten and entering first grade is a major milestone because it is the start of academics, sitting in a desk, and longer school days.  You are not advanced to first grade until you are close to seven years old and have completed many other developmental tasks.  Elijah is so very ready!

I am going to walk you through this short 45 minute celebration primarily so I never forget it!

It began with the children who are leaving the Kindergarten being called into their classroom to sit in a circle and hear a story from their Kindergarten teacher.  If you know anything about stories in Waldorf, the start of a story itself can make you cry.  The story was about the oldest children in the class going off into the forest on an adventure where they found many treasures including letters, numbers, colors.  The children put these things in their basket and headed off until they came to a beautiful rainbow bridge.  On the other side of the bridge was someone they recognized.  It was their first grade teacher Brooke waiting to escort them into a new land.

After that, the children, were each read their own special poem and got up to the words, "off you go", where their Kindergarten teacher sent them to follow their first grade teacher off.  She shook each of their hands and then led them to their new classroom.  When they arrived, each of their desks had pictures of themselves on them, a book from their teacher, and their poem.

Upon entering the world of desks and blackboards in first grade

Elijah with his gifts

His beautiful Kindergarten classroom that we will miss so much!

Seeing the excitement on the faces of these children, I cried and cried tears of joy in watching my beautiful son, his classmates and his teacher grow and embark on a new journey through the next eight years together.

Seeing the other side

So I got on a plane to come home today with my family.  A woman behind me on the plane was on the phone and as I settled myself and my family into their seats, I heard her say, "I hope the parents who don't vaccinate their children will also get to deal with a whole bunch of developmental delays in addition to the problems from not vaccinating.  You know, not just the stuff from not getting the shots."

Yes, I'm serious.

Now maybe it is because I had little to no sleep the night before, maybe because we had gotten on a plane a little before 6am that morning and this was our third flight of the day and 12th hour of traveling, maybe it was because I had a little boy who had been sick for two days and had just thrown up on the tarmac on our previous flight, or maybe it had more to do with a family member using social media to bash us on the same issue just a week beforehand, but it really hurt.  there I was, taking care of my sick little boy, my active toddler who wanted to run, and thankful for each minute of it truly because it means I am their mom and I was hit with those words.

I did not feel I could just ignore it.  I often feel that way though if you know me.  that being said, I value her point of view, at least the part about vaccinating being important.  So I sat there for the first part of the flight wondering what to do while she slept and I fed my children, handed them probiotics, and let them sleep on my leg until I could no longer feel the blood flow.

then I asked the flight attendant for paper and a pen and this is what I wrote:

Dear well meaning stranger,
First, I want to say thank you for reading this.  Secondly, I overheard your conversation, I wish I had not, but I did.
I want to encourage you to talk to someone who has decided not to vaccinate their children.  Maybe you can hear from them how they struggle with that decision each day, how it continues to be the hardest decision they make in parenting, how they feel it is the best decision given their circumstances.
I understand your point of view on vaccinations, I really do, but to say that parents who make that decision should be given children with developmental delays as well can really strike a person right at the core of their heart.
to seeing others points of view.
One mama who adores her babies

In baggage claim I handed it to her politely.  I wasn't sure I was going to, but I did.  She read it and she walked away.

For the record, our choice regarding vaccinations has nothing to do with Jenny McCarthy, I do not worry about my children getting autism from them, and I do believe they can be beneficial.  So if you want to know why we made the decision we did, one just has to ask. 

(and please forgive the grammar errors on this post, I am typing on a computer without the capital t working thanks to me forgetting to keep it out of the reach of my little bear)

Mr. Poopy Butthead

Oh the joys of working with young children as a parent and teacher.  Right around the fourth and fifth year of  life, the fascination with certain words begins.  Poop, fart, butt... these words are hilarious when you are four and even more hilarious for some reason if you are a boy!  Children are beginning to understand themselves, how their bodies work, and how language and feelings work.  They know these words get a reaction and they want to see what that reaction is.  It happened every single year around this time in my nursery school.  Someone would get called, "Poophead!" and that child would come to me.  My response was always, "Let me look!  Nope, there is no poop on your head."  That would always create a laugh and off the two children went.  Rarely did this word or the name calling stick around for long.

And NOW I am a parent and my son has begun his fascination with the word poop as he approaches four years old. Oh being a parent is so different than a teacher.  Watching your son call someone poop or having him scream that word in response to a kind gesture of "hello Elijah" can be quite embarrassing and upsetting for me.  It stirs up emotions I never quite had as a teacher.  Still, I understand that this is developmentally appropriate for him, I know that it makes him feel powerful (one of the important conditions for human growth), that making a big deal out of it will only increase his use of it thereby creating a power struggle between us.  And really, it is just a silly word.  To be quite honest, it is an important word, one we use everyday (at least we should).

Does this mean that when he calls someone poop, I simply ignore it.  I of course do not and I remind him that this person's name is "Mike" since tonight he called the head of our boarding school that (oy vey).  I use the ever powerful tool of humor to guide him telling him that when Mike was born, his parents didn't think Poop was a good name for him.  I ask him not to use it when I am eating or in our dining hall because frankly, it makes me feel ill and other people's needs are important too.  I will also explain the context and a little bit of child development to people along the way.  It is important for others to know that to Elijah, poop is a wonderful thing and not derogatory most of the time...they might even consider it a compliment.  Ok, maybe we won't go that far.

Common practice among early childhood programs I have seen in the past and definitely among parents is to stop the use of those words and quickly.  I assume they feel what I have felt as a parent and in some way deem the word inappropriate.  I often hear children told that they are only to use that word in the bathroom, that it is a potty word, etc...

I do not take that approach.  I think the more limits we put on it, the more some children (yes, mine) will push that limit and the longer the developmental stage will last.  I think it conveys that there is something wrong or gross about our bodily function which I do not believe, and it is simply not a battle I choose to fight with my child.

My husband and I instead play what Elijah has termed "poop games" with him now.  He says poop and we say pee or something even more "gross".  The belly laugh that this elicits out of our son is truly monumental.  Being able to enter into his world and share this humor with him truly brings us closer together because lets face it, I am a girl and I really dont get this whole "poop is funny" thing.  I think my husband understands the humor even more so and who knows, it may actually still be funny to him.  It is so important for me to remember that I am not male when parenting my son.  It was a huge wake up call as a teacher who grew up as one of three girls and no father in the home.  Understanding the differences and needs of the male species was and still can be a difficult road for me.

At Elijah's forest school, his teacher tells stories of Mr. Poopy Butthead (yes, one of the many things I love about Wild Roots) when the children enter this developmental stage.  Today, his teacher asked  him if he could help her find a stick strong enough for hammering and his response of course was an emphatic, "POOP!"  His teacher responded, "No, I don't think poop would work for this, I need a stick."

And that people is how you support children as they navigate this world we live in....
funny words and all.

The problem with doctorly advice...

He was so excited

So recently E had his very first dental appointment.  We have been brushing twice a day since before that child had teeth so it was no surprise that his teeth were perfect, just beautiful.  His cleaning went well and we got the common praises from both hygentist and dentist.  And then came the advice...

"So he is a thumb sucker I see..."

"Yes"

He then proceeded to tell me about how his teeth are being pushed out of normal bite range and how that will affect his grown up teeth.  I asked some questions and got some answers.

The he turned to E and said, "you should really try not to suck your thumb if you can".

I was fine with all of his advice as that is his job to give it and to focus on his teeth, and to tell us what to expect, but then he went on...

"and Mom, you need to make sure he has stopped by the time he is five."

I responded with, "we will have to see how things go" trying to divert this conversation so I did not loose my cool.

He continued to explain how if he doesn't stop by age five his teeth will be permanently affected.  Yada Yada Yada.

That is when I used a statement I so often said to parents who came into my preschool distraught because their dentist had given them a hard time about their thumb or pacifier sucking child,
"Orthodontics is a whole lot cheaper than therapy."

The hygentist and dentist did not laugh, but they did get quiet.
On the way home, E told me he didnt want to stop sucking his thumb.  I assured him that it was his choice and that mama was not going to make him stop (as if I could).

But that session has stuck with me.  It was the first time I was the parent in a situation like this.  I was so thankful for my years in early childhood and my knowledge of child development because his stern warnings did not phase me like it had so many parents I has worked with.

I have always disliked it when doctors of dentists gave advice like that to parents.  I know we pay them for there advice, but when it comes across as there is no other choice, parents feel like they are doing something wrong in the best case and parents do something horrible to their child like this contraption in the worst case.   Of course, the dentist is only thinking of his teeth and it is a parents job to think of their entire child and way the pros and cons.  However, I strongly believe that doctors and dentists opinions carry a lot of weight with parents and should be careful how they use that weight to get across their point.

This kind of situation, I believe, is the reason most parents would rather use a pacifier and do whatever they can to keep their child from sucking their thumb.
I often hear, "because a pacifier you can take away" at even a few weeks old.  The pressure to force even that situation on a young child just because the adults in their world have decided they are too old for that comfort is just ridiculous.  Yet, we are thinking of these things while the little ones are still in the womb.

If you ask me, no one ever died from being a thumb sucker.  Some people had to have braces because of it, some had to have braces (like me) even though they never had a pacifier or thumb as comfort, and some have sucked their thumb for a decade or more and have perfectly straight teeth.  So braces happen, big deal.

And doctors and dentists have their specialty, but it is not child development, even pediatricians do not focus on much more than a child's physical development, so I hope we all keep this in mind when hearing what they have to say and then make up your own mind as the guardian of this special person.

My top priority as a parent is to listen to my child and to focus on his needs as a whole.  He gains a great deal of comfort from his thumb and his psyche will always take precedence over his teeth.

He got a toy afterwards, so glad they didn't tell him it was for being "good" or this blog post might have taken a whole different path. 

Until he decides to stop, I will tell the dentist we heard him and ask him respectively to drop it.
I may even start sucking my thumb as a sign of support ;)

On having two...

So since J is over 8 months old as I begin to write this and it is the first post since he was born, you can probably guess the theme of this one: life is crazy!  Crazy and joyful, but none the less crazy!

So how is life with two children you ask?  The best way I can describe it is to tell you about the last 30 minutes I just had.

So, E had woken up and was saying, "Mama" in a sad/scared voice that gets me to jump and run whenever I hear it.  I ran into our bedroom and E was speaking nonsense and gibberish as he often does when waking from a deep sleep.  It usually means he has to pee.  I asked him if he did and he said No and began to lie down.  I got into bed next to him and realized the reason he no longer had to pee.  He and the bed were soaked.
I told him I was gonna go get him some clothes and he said "OK" sleepily, but as soon as I left the room, he sat up and started crying loudly which of course woke J.  So now J is fussing and wanting help going back to sleep and I begin to change E.  As soon as I get E's pants off, he says he has to pee more, so he gets down out of the bed and I put J's pacifier in his mouth hoping it will last long enough for me to help E in the bathroom.
I turn around and E is standing on our bedroom carpet peeing.  I said, "No wait sweetie, lets go to the bathroom."  He stops and I get him to the toilet.
Meanwhile, J is crying and I can tell he has gotten up and is crawling towards the bed rail so I place E in front of the toilet and aim him just so as I run back into the bedroom and pick up my crying baby.
I help E finish up in the bathroom (with one hand) and come back to the bedroom with both boys.  I lie J down on the bed and he starts crying (loudly) again.  I quickly lie a towel down on the bed, pick up E, put on his dry clothing, cover him, and then lie down in the position.  The position is one in between the two boys where I can simultaneously nurse J in one direction while holding E's hand in the other direction.
Both boys scoot as close as humanly possible to me and drift back to sleep.

As I watch them sleep I have such mixed and intense emotions.
I hope that E knows how much I love him with all my heart even though my parenting has sank to an all time low and how I want to just scoop him up and savor each moment with him as I watch him continue to grow at an alarming rate.  How every time he goes through something new I worry and research and worry and research some more.  How I want to give him the very best of everything money cannot buy.
I see J cozy up in my arms (he has awoken and wants to be held), nursing, and so peacefully sleeping and think how little time he gets to just lie in his mamas arms like this and how sad I feel about that.  I spend all my day time hours making sure Elijah is loved, fed, getting his activity, loved, fed, not beating on J, loved, fed, not breaking things, etc...  I start to feel like the only time I have for J is to stop him from sucking on the toilet and electrical cords (although I am sure E thinks it is much more).  I know my little baby cries for me way more than I would like him too.

The hard truth is that my parenting has really taken a dive.  I hear myself say things I never would have said before like calling J a "handful" right in front of him or telling E at the end of the day to "stop touching me".  These moments keep me awake at night.

My house always has some sort of disorganization, the bathroom always smells like pee between a little boy with questionable aim and cloth diaper aroma, someone always needs me immediately, and I feel like I can never quite catch up.  They never nap at the same time, or for very long, and E hardly naps at all anymore, both boys want to nurse what feels like all day and all night.  I went from having a 90 min break in the middle of the day and several hours at night, to having an hour here and there at night maybe.

All that being said...
J laughs at every little move E makes and watches him ever so intently.
The look on J's face and the little laugh he utters whenever he makes it all the way to the toilet or tears off yet another leaf from our houseplants.
The way both boys want to touch me all day long and play with me.
The way they hold hands when they are sleeping.
Those rare moments when E and I can finally sit and talk or read without the baby needing mama or trying to grab the book.
The way E tells us he loves us at least twenty times a day.
The way they look at me when I enter a room.

and the moments when both boys are in my arms and I can smell each of them, feel there little arms and I know it is one of those moments I want to remember when I am old.
So besides maybe just a little less pee, I wouldn't change a thing.

My friend recently said, "these are the good old days".  I completely agree.

I refuse to cover up....

Well it finally happened, after 3 plus years breastfeeding two infants, a toddler, and now a preschooler with a renewed love of nursing; I have been officially been told today that I am offending people and have been asked to cover up. 

Of course, I know California State Law, my rights, and my position on the issue.  I even carry copies of the law in my wallet so I never have to even get into a discussion with another about it, but would simply hand them the law and continue feeding my baby.  I thought I was prepared for this situation, I thought I would not be surprised and would simply stand up for my rights and go on with my daily routine.  What I did not consider is how this would make me feel.  I always thought I would of course be angry and frustrated with our country's strange obsession with breasts.  I knew I would want to shout from the roof tops, "I refuse to cover up!".  What I did not expect was the feelings of hurt that I am now experiencing.  I feel berated.  I feel sad.  I have a slight feeling of uncomfortableness now when I think of feeding my baby in that place again.
Because I feel so strongly about this issue, I know these feelings will soon pass, anger might remain for a while, but ultimately pride will be what endures.
I will feel pride in myself for being able to give my children the best possible nutrition and comfort that exists.
I will feel pride in what I have taught about our bodies to the younger girls around me and for that matter, the boys as well.
I will feel pride in continuing to nurse my baby in a situation where others know that I was asked to cover up and refused to do so simply out of embarrassment or shame.
I will feel pride in my husband for telling me that by doing what I do, I have made the world slightly more tolerant of breastfeeding mothers and in a small way made it a better place.
I will feel pride in myself for that as well.

No woman should ever be made to feel that doing something so natural is shameful.  No woman should ever have to feel like she has to cover up because covering up implies that what I am doing is in some way shameful or inappropriate and NOTHING could be further from the truth.

I usually would not post pictures like this just to make a statement, but today I am.  My husband took this picture just a few days ago because I wanted to have it for my remembering when I am 82.  I know you all have seen more breast in the Victoria Secret catalog.

Jonah's Birth

This will be a hard one to write because this is likely my last baby and there are many emotions that come with that.  But, here it goes....
So after 41 weeks, the baby was doing great on all tests, but my midwives were starting to feel the pressure of keeping me as a patient if I went much longer.  I hate that this is the society we live in, but it is and if I wanted to stay with them for much longer, I was gonna need to encourage my baby to come.  I did acupuncture, homeopathy, pineapple, spicy food, sex, exercise, pumping, and finally castor oil (which I swore I would never do again after Elijah).  None of that coaxed either of my beautiful boys out of the womb which when you really think about it, why would they want to leave???
So at sixteen days past my due date (42 weeks, 2 days), I agreed to let my midwife break my water.  It worked like a charm with Elijah and I had waited as long as I could to ensure its chances of working.  At 11am, at my midwives home, she broke my water.  There was a ton of clear water that came out.  And then we all headed home to wait, relax, and pump some more.
At 3pm, they started coming and I was a little surprised because with Elijah it took eleven hours to work.  They were very irregular and about 45 min. apart, but by 6pm, they were 15 min. apart and by 7pm, about a minute and half apart.  They started to even out and around 8pm, I was in a very regular cycle of every 3 minutes or so.  My doula, Genevieve arrived, my midwives, Laurel and Alice came, and there were some laughs in between contractions.  Bob Marley was put on in the background because as Laurel said, "babies love Bob Marley."  Early labor was pretty fun and I was thrilled that it was finally time to meet my baby.
The contractions, as they tend to do, got stronger and more intense and at some point I stopped cracking jokes in between.  The baby was pushing very hard in between contractions as well which made it very difficult to rest or catch my breath for the next one, but I had found my voice, my position, and I think I was handling it pretty well.  I labored on the ball, in the birth tub which was awesome, hanging on my amazing husband, etc....

My husband is amazing!

At about 2am, I was ready to start pushing I told my midwife, but it was not a physical feeling, just more of an, I'm done with all this, lets get going feeling.  She checked me and said it was not time yet. I later found out I was at 6-7cm then.  I labored a few more hours and at some point we all discovered that the baby was on my pelvic bone and posterior and while he was trying with all his might (trust me on this one) to push his way down, it was unlikely I would dialate more until the pressure of his little head came down.   So I was in that same dilation and labor pattern for about 8 hours.  At that point, the contractions felt like they were coming very quickly.  I kept telling Josh that I was not sure I could do this.

Laurel hugging me when it was rough, I remember melting into that hug!

About 7am, my midwives had me on my side, on the floor trying to help the baby move off my pelvic bone.  This was extremely hard for me and my contractions were not coming as often as they needed to be even though it felt like they were with the baby pushing so hard in between.  So the midwives used the pump a little bit.  It was just awful there on the floor and at some point I asked for a break.  Josh and I went outside and did some lunges in the backyard per Laurel's recommendation.  My midwives had told me that the baby and I were handling this beautifully and that all it was gonna take was more time, but I was convinced they were holding something back so outside I kept crying and asking Josh to tell me what I needed to do differently.  There is a very frustrating feeling when you know you are making zero progress for hours on end, you are tired, and just want it all to be over.  Josh told me the same thing, that I just needed to be patient and it would turn around. 
Well then we came inside, I overheard my midwives say something about giving me another hour or two and I was convinced (as convinced as a determined exhausted woman who cannot clarify anything her midwives are saying can be).  I was convinced that they did not think this baby would come and I knew the hospital was 45 min away.  I was not gonna lie on that ground for another two hours and THEN take a 45 min car ride.  So..... I gave up.  I said to myself, "I am gonna regret this."
But then I told my midwives to take me to the hospital for an epidural so I could relax a bit.  Interestingly enough, even though the midwives tried to talk me out of it, when they finally agreed, my contractions were coming back to back and I was handling them on my own because my doula was lying in bed with Elijah, and everyone else was scrambling to get ready to transfer.
Around 8am we left, and that car ride was excruciating.  I kept telling myself not to faint, the baby was pushing so hard during and in between, and I was in the most awkward of positions.  45 minutes later, we arrived at the hospital.  I did not have the energy to cry anymore.  I just kept asking for meds, actually begging.  But they had to ask me intake questions before they could call the anesthesiologist.  I do not think I answered one.  At one point I was in my gown, in the bed and a big contraction was coming.  I made a moaning sound that made everyone in the room including my midwife whip their heads around and say. "wait a second, that sounded like a push."  They checked me and what do you know.... the baby turned anterior, came off my pelvic bone, I was completely dilated and the baby was coming.  I was so tired, even this news did not derail me from continuing to ask for pain meds.  But then, it happened.  What I needed to happen, but did not know I needed.  My midwife got in my face so to speak.  She told me absolutely not (it was too late anyway) was I going to get an epidural when the whole reason we came to the hospital was now gone, I was gonna push this baby out right now.  I think I whimpered knowing this was gonna be work.  And it took everything in me.  BUT, he was moving, I could feel him.  I felt his body coming lower and lower and this was such a relief.  I felt him crown, the ring of fire, and his head pop out.  Everyone in the room was commenting on what a tight squeeze and big baby this was.  The doctor on call did not pull him, but let me do the work, so he slowly emerged.   When his body was half way out, they suctioned him, I pushed him the rest of the way out and he came right to my chest.  He stayed there for two hours before I let Josh hold him. 
It was another beautiful baby boy... I love boys.  Jonah Cameron Roberts was 9lbs, 3oz and I pushed him out in about 20-30 minutes and I was on my back.  I love to stand during labor so this fact still mystifies me.  I always thought I would push my babies out standing up.
When I think of the decision I made to go to the hospital I am frustrated and disappointed in myself.  I should have trusted my midwives, I took away an opportunity for Josh to catch his son as he wanted, I took away an opportunity for Elijah to see his brother be born, and I took away from myself forever the right to say I birthed my baby at home.  I know what everyone will say to these complaints. I know some people will think they are silly.  I am of course so grateful that I have been able to conceive, have two beautiful incredibly healthy little boys, and that we are all well.  But I find myself mourning the end result of each birth none the less.  Jonah's birth was ten time more difficult than Elijah's and I have always known that one reason for me to choose midwifery care was to avoid the temptation for pain meds.  I know myself well and I did not want them to be an option.  I did not really even think about them with Elijah so I was surprised at how much harder this was.  My midwives have been so incredible helping me along this postpartum path.  They call me all the time, visit me at home, and give the kind of care that makes me feel like I am their only patient.

Alice and baby Jonah, one week old

And to me that is the moral of both of my births.  If I had not chosen midwifery care and to labor outside the hospital for all but 45 minutes of each of my sons, I am convinced without a doubt, that both of my boys would have been cesareans.  Elijah was breech at 36 weeks (the midwife turned him), I was diagnosed with a muscle disease, and his heart rate dropped a bit too much during labor (which is why we transferred in his birth).   Jonah was stuck for a long time on my pelvic bone despite handling it very well.  These situations are not ones hospitals will let you stick with for long.  My midwives trusted my body to do its job while keeping us safe at the same time.  Because of this, I had two unmedicated vaginal births.  I am so thankful for that because I believe we are all healthier for it.  This is what I try to remember when the sadness hits.
And now I am off to figure out how to be the best mama I can be to two little ones who both seem to need me constantly.  This may be tougher than transition. :)

And now for our new life...

Elijah's Birth

Tracy, Josh, and Elijah Roberts:  Birth Story

We found out that we were going to have a baby in mid October after trying to conceive for 4 months.  We were as prepared as we could be with all our research done and having decided that an out of hospital birth was the safest option for our baby.   We wanted a natural birth and we knew that this would be a sensitive time in our lives and we did not want to be pressured by a hospital with their own standard of procedure.  I also felt that if I was gonna do this without drugs, I needed drugs to not even be available.   When the time came though, I never wanted them.  Maybe I had prepared myself well enough and I had heard the horror stories about how most women ask for them at some point, but that was simply not the case for me.  I never even thought about it once in 18 hours of labor.  I say this only because as women we have all heard how awful this experience is, how some people even commented that they thought they were gonna die.  Awful is just a word I would never use for this empowering experience, but let me go back further….

I was so exhilarated to finally be going down a road I had seen so many go, after 14 years as a preschool teacher and director, it was finally my turn to be the mom.  Pregnancy was tiring and so full of ups and downs.  I did not want to have any interventions if possible, but at 12 weeks, Lorri found a fibroid, I had thought it was our babies head.  This meant ultrasounds to watch the growth and position 3 times during the pregnancy.  I was also diagnosed with Myontonia Cogenita, a muscle disease that made me even more tired and difficult to walk, this led to some invasive genetic testing including tiny electric shocks and sticking needles in my muscles…  Yikes, that was a hard day.  Then at 30 weeks gestation, the baby turned breech.   I spent the night I found out, crying while lying upside down at a 45 degree angle on our ironing board pretty sure at any moment all that extra weight I was carrying would end up crushing my head.  The baby did eventually turn back with the help of many exercises and some great midwifery massage.

In the end, all of these complications had been evaluated and followed by every specialist we could think of and all of them said they were not affecting the baby and I was cleared for an out of hospital birth.  Ironically with all these “issues”, the most concern my midwife had was to make sure one of my fibroids (yes, I had several) was not blocking the cervix.  Not sure if it was her experience or just plain instinct, but I had no idea how right she would be.

So then the final few weeks approached and I was doing all the natural things that can help with getting labor started, homeopathy, Chinese herbs, raspberry, drinking lemonade, eating pineapple, eating spicy food, walking, having sex, acupuncture, and then…. It happened or at least we thought it did.  I had some severe pains that lasted many hours.  We tried to walk, eat, sleep, drink, and shower ( all the things Bradley tells you to do to test if you are in real labor) and they kept coming.  Even our midwife thought this was it over the phone.  We called the family and then, just as the mother in law boarded her plane to come home from vacation, they stopped.  We were so disappointed.

The waiting game then commenced.  And when the “due date” ( I think they should be called guess dates) came and went, the midwives prescribed more of the same and they even stripped my membranes TWICE, but nothing worked.  You have until 2 weeks after your due date to give birth with the midwives and then your care is transferred to an OB, so 2 days before this time limit was up, y midwives suggested Castor Oil.  I can barely type those words without gagging.  We attempted to mask the flavor with two very big root beer floats and lets just say I will not be drinking root beer floats ever again.  And, it did not work either… no labor, just vomiting.  Ugh…..Horrid.

Lorri suggested after determining that my cervix was "ripe", that we rupture the membranes.  I was two weeks “overdue” at this point and while they always left the decision to me, I was unsure.   I was really worried this would not work to start labor as nothing else had, but my midwife was very sure and I trusted her.   We went into the birthing center that morning and I was so nervous, but as soon as I saw Lorri, I calmed down.  I remembered that she was the reason I had so much faith in this birth and my body. They broke the bag of waters and all was clear. That was a long day, they sent us home to pump and wait. It was a tough day.  Around 3pm, I was in tears thinking I had rushed the baby and that it was not going to work.  My husband was so great though, he jumped right in and took my mind off everything assuring me we would be OK.  I spoke with Lorri and Angela a few times that day and at one point they found out that my inlaws were at our house with us.  They told me they needed to leave.  I was nervous to ask them to leave and wasn’t sure I wanted them to go, but my husband again reminded me that we needed to trust our midwives and follow their instruction so he asked his parents to go spend the night close by.

At 8pm that night (just as the in laws were walking out the door…smart midwife) contractions started, but I had had these mild ones for weeks so I did not get my hopes up.  By 10pm, they got much stronger and about 12-20 minutes apart. At midnight, I woke up Josh cause I could not handle them alone anymore. The entire night they got stronger and closer together and progressed exactly like a text book case. I tried to sleep in the beginning between them.  That worked for a little while.  We went on a walk, took lots of showers, and called Laura Jane (our doula) around 5:30 am to come help us at home.  I remember the first thing I said to her was, "this is really hard" (as if she didn't know that).  With every contraction, the best way that I could allow them to do their job was to stand and put all my weight on Josh.  I tried very hard to focus on not tensing up with the pain and to allow Josh to hold me up.
Around 7:30am, I wanted to go to the birthing center because I felt like I was ready, we called the midwife and she agreed to meet us at 9:15am. That felt like an eternity to me then. The car ride over there was horrid  cause I could not stand or deal with them the way I wanted (I think a home birth next time).  We got there and the midwife checked me, I was 7cm plus she said. I remember being satisfied with that ironically.
I got in their birthing tub and in about 2 hours, at 10:55am (not that I had any idea of the time then), I was fully dilated and my body just started pushing. Wow! Pushing! That is the most primitive feeling in the world. Nothing has ever overtaken my body like that .  Josh was so supportive.  He was talking me through every one, but I told him to just be quiet at one point.  I felt like the talking was distracting me from the all important job of pushing.  I just had to focus.
At some point, I just felt I needed to stand up and push so I got out of the tub, squatted and pushed.  I felt like I was making the most progress here and when the Lorri finally started saying, "yes, yes".   This is when they started noticing the babies heart beat dropping.  They said I could not stand, they put me in a few different positions on the bed and the heart rate was fine, but I felt like I could not get any leverage to push him out. I was getting hot and tired and they put me on oxygen.  I asked to stand again after a while and they said OK, but his heart rate dropped again.  I could see and feel him moving down when I stood, I felt like I could get him out so I was very disappointed to be put back in the other positions even though it was necessary.   I was squeezing Laura Jane and Josh’s hand with every push and I had Cheryl, the midwife assistant(the human epidural they call her) and Lorri coaching me through every one.
Apparently there started to be quite a bit of meconium coming out around this time too. The baby was trying to come out sideways also which is the way he sat inside me the last 2 months or so. The midwife tried to reach in and turn him a few times, but it didn't work and we didn't know why at the time.  I remember seeing one of the other birth assistants face at the time and thinking she looked terrified (not sure how many times she had seen a birth), but I remember feeling very calm inside, not a bit worried, just tired and wanting the baby out.
After 2 hours of pushing with heart rates dropping and meconium coming out with a baby that appeared to be stuck, Lorri said, lets go to the hospital. I was so ready thinking they would "take him out".
They put me in the car and told me not to push, that was the hardest thing I think I had done so far to try to stop something that was so instinctual.  Its akin to telling someone with the violent flu not to vomit anymore.
When we got to the hospital, there was like 12 doctors, nurses, and midwives waiting for us. They hooked me to IV's and I thought, here comes the medicated birth I didn't want, but was just so wanting him to be out. They just gave me saline though and told me I had to push him out, no epidural or c-section was possible because he was crowning. Thank Goodness!
I remember thinking at that moment that I was going to kill him. I had very sad visions flash in my head. The OB said to me that she was going to help me 1% with the vacuum, but that he had to come out now and I had to push him out. I was crying and so not sure I could do it, but I pushed as hard as I could and with the vacuum and an episiotomy,  and only 45 minutes in the hospital, our little BOY came out at 2:10pm on Friday, July 17^th.
Even though he was whisked right away to the pediatricians in the room, he cried immediately and got an apgar score of 8.5. Josh held him skin to skin pretty quickly after that and he came to me pretty soon too and nursed.
It took an hour and a half for the placenta to ease its way out cause it was stuck on my fibroids which we later found out the baby was too.

So there you go, and unmedicated birth with some interventions that I of course did not want, but seemed necessary at the time and I am glad the hospital was there for us when it needed to be. I am glad I did all my laboring at home and the birth center.  I, of course, am sad I scared my family, but I never felt unsafe or like we were not in the best hands. I knew if anything like this happened, Lorri, our midwife, was so experienced and able to handle it and I have even more respect and admiration for her now than I did before. I think I even said immediately after Elijah was born, "Lorri, I love you!" Poor Josh :(.