November 14, 2006 ~ Learning the Hard Way
Tuesday.
For someone who wanted very badly to get pregnant, I knew surprisingly little about pregnancy, birth, and postpartum. So as soon as I got pregnant, the fertility hurdle cleared, I started reading. And reading and reading and reading. Below is a list of the things that surprised me that I either learned from experiencing or learned from the books and then experienced.
And, obviously, this whole entry is probably too much intimate information, so reader beware.
What I didn't know (before I got pregnant) about pregnancy, birth, and postpartum:
Pregnancy
That I could go through pregnancy without any morning (or afternoon or evening) sickness at all. I kept expecting nausea to start up, but it never did. I was only a little queasy about strong smells, and that was the worst of it.
That the sciatic nerve could become pinched very early on, before I even started to show, and that it could leave me unable to get up without extreme pain and could cause my legs to give out at random intervals.
But, that I am lucky enough to have a friend who is a neuromuscular therapist, and she could fix me. For free. (She was incredible. She gave me the gift of a pain-free pregnancy. I don't know what I'd have done without her.)
That pregnancy can be an extremely enjoyable time, one that I will miss. For me, it was not the miserable time that a lot of people seem to experience.
That there is nothing more reassuring and smile-inducing than the incredible feeling of a little life moving around inside of me.
That pregnancy dreams can scare the hell out of me. (ie: a doctor cutting the baby's head off --"it's a routine procedure, Ma'am"--after it was born. Anxiety about a hospital birth? Me? Naaaw!)
That I would become more flexible because my joints started to loosen in preparation for birth.
That falling would give me a panic attack: "Did I hurt the baby?"
That I could really feel, from the outside with my hands, the different parts of the baby. (Little feet, the round curve of his bottom and down his back, his head, low.)
That you can influence the baby's position in the womb by how you sit, stand, and lie. (...But that optimal positioning is not a guarantee of a smooth birth...)
That I could wean myself from sleeping on my stomach. That I can sleep on my side. Every night. For months.
But that sleeping on the left side every night all night for months would make me very sore and would make weird things happen--like all of the skin along my right side drying out, rashes on my right leg, etc.
That I would get really sick of the taste of nettle tea, molasses, and "iron tonic" (yellow dock, dandelion root, and molasses) to correct pregnancy induced anemia. Molasses is forever ruined for me, I think.
That herbal remedies for anemia would work much better than medical ones.
That my vision would temporarily no longer be 20/20.
That I could be nine months and a week pregnant and still tie my own shoes (though it was, admittedly, awkward). (Morgan: "You are the most mobile and self-sufficient pregnant woman I've ever seen! I guess they exaggerate that in movies and on TV, huh?")
That I could go nine months without chocolate, and with hardly any sugar.
That I could work right up to my due date.
That Morgan could be so very, very selfless in his care of me.
Labor and Birth
That I could take a hike during labor (and would want to).
That labor can go on and on for days.
That labor can stall out thanks to sudden stress.
That no matter how well you prepare, how relaxed you are, how perfectly the baby is positioned, how safe you feel about natural childbirth... labor can still last for days (and days and days...) and it can still be painful (though not unmanageably so). See, many of the books on natural childbirth coach that if you are very relaxed, that if your baby is "left anterior" and "zero station," that if you are able to let go of your inhibitions, that if you stay active and upright, that if you are in a familiar environment at home... you will have a quick labor and fairly painless birth. Well, things like an unusually short umbilical cord, baby's hands presenting up next to his head, outside stressors that you have no control over, and who knows what else... suffice it to say labor can still be long and painful, even if you do everything right.
That Morgan would find wells of infinite patience to help me through it all that neither of us knew he had.
I learned afterwards that there is a very effective natural remedy regime for Group B Strep. Next time I will do that, rather than having to endure intravenous antibiotics several times during labor.
That you can lose your homebirth for something as seemingly unrelated as the weather.
That driving over an hour to the hospital while eight to ten centimeters dilated wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. And that getting into a traffic jam on that trip didn't worry me at all (as I would have thought it would). I think I was beyond caring at that point. My mind was on vacation and my laboring body had taken over.
That the hospital really was all that I feared, but that being there with my midwife (who has practitioner rights there) would make all the difference in the world. She kept me free of all of many of the interventions that would otherwise have been standard procedure.
That I would come closer to hating someone than I have ever come in my life with the nurse who was mean to me (and Morgan) while I was in transition. And who didn't believe that I could deliver the baby and said so openly. And who later lectured me with some really bad advice. And THEN made fun of my husband.
That a birthing pool would not work for me at all (nothing to brace against when pushing).
That I'd spend the whole pregnancy hoping I wouldn't tear, and the last fifteen minutes not caring at all if I tore, so long as that baby comes out NOW--in fact, pushing like hell knowing I was tearing badly and just not caring.
That sometimes crowning is not at all like the rhythmic in and out and gentle stretching in the birth videos. Sometimes crowning is sudden huge baby head and then it's out all in one push and there's tearing and blood and a surprised midwife shooting her hands out.
That, out of everything, the most painful and uncomfortable moments out of labor and delivery were the times when something medical or invasive was being done to me. For instance, the midwife's hand inside me checking my dilation. Artificially breaking my water. Getting the antibiotic shots (for GBS+). The mandatory twenty minutes of monitoring and the mandatory IV when I first arrived at the hospital. The midwife reaching in to push my pelvic bones apart while I was pushing. (Yeah. OUCH.)
That I could actually feel the tearing. (The books all talk about how episiotomies don't hurt since the area is "naturally numbed from the pressure of the baby's head." Um. Yeah RIGHT.)
That labor and birth were not as painful as some other pains I've had in my life.
But that labor and birth were definitely the hardest work that I have ever done and the most exhausted I've ever been.
That I can do the hardest work that I have ever done, that I can go three days without sleep and with very little food, in pain, and still have enough energy and presence at the end of it to push a baby through my pelvis. Heh.
That birth is the most empowering experience I have ever had.
That labor and birth would bring me to love Morgan even more intensely than ever before.
Postpartum
That postpartum issues are pretty underreported.
That maternity ward gowns are designed in such a way that it makes it impossible to nurse while wearing one. So I didn't wear anything.
That after giving birth my previously considerable modesty would be completely non-existent.
That the contractions would continue for days as my uterus sized back down.
That tearing can heal so quickly and so well.
That being stuck in the hospital for two days afterwards would be the hardest part. I just wanted to be home. "Please let me go home. He's healthy, I'm fine, please let us go home." But they wouldn't.
That peeing for the first time after giving birth? OUCH. It took incredible will to make myself do it.
That I would manage the after pain not nearly as well as labor and birth, because I just wanted to sleep, I just want to be with my baby, and the pain feels meaningless and unnecessary now that he's there. It was just keeping me from sleeping and was distracting me from him. So, I went through labor and birth without any drugs for the pain, without ever even feeling like I needed any, even. But when they handed me those pills afterwards so that I could sleep, I took them without a second thought.
That I'd bleed for weeks and weeks afterwards.
That I would feel so very broken afterwards. The emotional vulnerability from the hormones. How sore and achy my body was. My gooshy deflated belly. The leaking--leaking blood, leaking milk, leaking sweat. The night sweats, smelling so strongly from the hormones. Hot and cold. My torn and swollen nether regions. The sharp pain in my pelvis from coming open so far. Feeling so weak... It was such a contrast: the incredible powerful strength I felt giving birth to him and the utter brokenness afterwards. So very human--capable of incredible acts yet so very, very fragile.
That my period would return so soon (seven weeks postpartum), even with exclusive breastfeeding. Hrmph.
And that it would go away again. I think this is because Grove went through a period of sleeping for seven-hour stretches at night early on, but then started waking more frequently again.
That I would still look about five or six months pregnant for a few weeks after giving birth, but that I would feel tiny and light after being nine months and a week pregnant.
That I'd lose twenty pounds from the time I went into labor to four days post partum.
That the belly would be so gooshy and soft and wrinkly afterwards.
That I do not have very stretch-friendly skin. I tore, and I got stretch marks all over my belly, across my hips and my back and down my thighs, despite using two different moisturizers made for pregnancy religiously throughout. The skin is still all floppy and wrinkly a year later... and I don't expect it to ever snap back.
But that I really wouldn't mind. The red is starting to fade to silver, these silvery little lines sliding up my belly like light, like water. They are very meaningful scars to me and I'm not self-conscious about them at all. They gave me Grove, and will always remind me of this incredible time in my life. Some people get tattoos, or even purposefully scar themselves as a reminder of an event. But me? I prefer these natural scars. A reminder of great love, pain, creation, purpose.
That my bowels may never be the same. Enough said.
That I would end up with an inexplicable, possibly permanent rash from it all.
That my pelvic bones wouldn't quite return to the shape they were supposed to, and that it would make laying on my side for long periods rather painful.
That Grove would simply just become a part of my life, rather than supplanting it. That I'd find ways to include him in the things that I enjoyed before his birth, rather than quitting them. That he'd become such a companion to me so early.
That postpartum depression would hit me so hard, but not in the first months. Six months later, and then BAM.
That the whole thing would cost so much money. And that insurance would pay so little and would be so horrible about all of it.
That I'd be getting plenty of sleep by one month in. And then not enough four months in...
That Morgan could be so tender.
That I'd take so easily and naturally to mothering.
That I, a lifelong overachiever and perfectionist, could be so forgiving of myself.
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