From Two to Three Kids

This is a guest blog post from a local mama who is also a movie producer. Thank you, Maria, for your contribution. 

A windy day brought us together in Acapulco Bay, 19 years ago. Little did we know that we'd be sharing a life and a bed together with three angels. My husband and I joke that having our third child has made us into adults. I think before, we thought that we had time, we could afford mistakes, debt, a few extra pounds, and not worrying about writing a will. But since our son’s birth in June, we've refinanced our home, my husband is going to the gym (for both of us) 5 times a week, and we are currently writing a will. Not because having a third child will kill you, but because going from two to three kids is serious stuff. There is no more joking around. The kids now outnumber us and we need to have a plan.

I’m 41 and he is almost 50. We've been adults for a long time, but it just hasn't felt like it. We took 11 years to have our daughter, and in that time, we worked, fought, made up, drank margaritas, went to sunny beaches, and built a solid foundation on which we now have created a precious little family. I am thrilled to be a mom of three. But it’s not as easy as people say.  “Going from two to three is not a big change.” Those people are liars. Let me tell you why… 

There is never enough time to get anything done. We seem to always be running late. There’s a spill, a missing shoe, or a last-minute potty emergency. Going to the grocery store is an ordeal. You simply don’t have enough hands. Getting a shower feels like a treat. Eating out has never been this unpleasant. Also, we had to get a new car to fit everyone, and change rooms around in our house to accommodate the new addition. 

Then there’s the guilt, knowing that you can’t make everyone happy. Your older child feels like you’re giving them the responsibility of helping with everything because they’re older. The younger child is no longer the youngest. You can’t help them go to the bathroom, eat, or play with them as much as before because you have a tiny being dependent on your boob for food. You are always feeding the baby, or changing the baby, or rocking the baby to sleep. 

At least both of my “older” kids are out of diapers. And it also helps that they can express their emotions. My 6-year-old daughter has told me that I love the baby more than I love anyone. And my 3-year-old son has told me that he wants me to hold him like I hold the baby. Everything seems to revolve around this new family member. And it does. But I try to make it seem like it doesn't.
I make sure I have some sort of quality time with each kid. Even if it’s just for 10 minutes. I want them to know that they each have an important part of my heart. That they matter, are wanted, needed and loved as much as the other. 

I have been an adult for a long time. But I have never been this happy. If what Elizabeth Gilbert writes is true, that the number 3 "is the number representing supreme balance", I have found my equilibrium, my stability, my raison de vivre. I’ll take the messy house, the sleepless nights, the missing shoes, and the certainty that I must be crazy for having another kid. All for the pure smiles, and the 3 hearts which remind me daily that I was born to be their mom.

Maria Sotolongo stays at home to raise her three kids, 6, 3, and 3 months old. She left her TV job to enjoy her little ones full-time. In the few minutes she has of freedom, she loves photography, blogging, cooking, and is now producing a documentary about home births. You can find her and a short trailer of her documentary atwww.mariasotolongo.com

Newborn Babywearing

In the coming months you will see a lot of guest blog posts from local mommies, business professionals, and advocates in the Houston area. I hope you enjoy finding out more about our community, I know I did!

This is a guest post from our local babywearing experts at Woodland Babies!

You have been carrying this tiny life around inside of your body for nine months, and then...birth. What is next for this precious child whose life has just begun, and been disrupted, all in the same moment?  Your womb was the ideal place for your baby. The temperature was perfect. The nourishment, complete. Baby was instantly soothed by your movements, while simultaneously lulled by the sound of your heartbeat.

Your maternal instincts took over once your baby was born. You held baby so close, breathed in that newborn baby smell, and gazed at that perfect face for hours. But yet the gap remains. Baby was so secure in the dark warmth of your body, but being earthside is bright, cold, and distracting.  Keeping your new baby close is instinctual and babywearing helps both you and baby transition into the new roles you are still defining.

Whether you are needing baby to be close, baby is needing the sound of your heartbeat to feel secure, or you just need to make lunch for your other two kids, babywearing can be a wonderful parenting tool. When baby is wrapped on your chest, in a similar position to that of holding them, your hands are free to drink a glass of water, read a book to another child, or even to take a picture of that sweet sleeping creation that you made. Babywearing is not just about multitasking. It also allows you moments of extra close snuggles. It helps you to capture those wonderful smells of fresh baby hair, glimpses of that creation that will be forever etched into your memory, sound asleep, cheek smooshed on your chest, those eyelashes, pursed little lips, perfection.

Babywearing can also help to calm the fussiest of babies, as if they were back in the womb. In a baby carrier, babies are secure, they are close, and your movement is a soothing rhythm that instantly calms. The rise and fall of your chest helps them to regulate their breathing, and being in an upright position can help to relieve colic as well.

There are a few thing to keep in mind when wearing your tiny new one. It is recommended that babies be worn upright, tummy to tummy, similar to the way you would hold your baby in your arms. When in this position, baby will naturally uncurl and their legs will go into a froggy like position, with knees above their bottom. Baby should not be squished or compressed and baby’s chin should be one to two finger widths off of their chest. 

Newborn babies typically don’t snore, so if baby is making sounds, check positioning and readjust as needed. Just like you would have your car seat checked for safety, babywearing meetings, classes, and workshops can be a great place to make sure all is well. They are also a great place to meet other mamas and lifelong friends.

All in all, babywearing is not only a way to hold your baby, it is a useful tool in your parenting arsenal. Use it carefully, wisely, and often! 

Mary is a mother to 3 little ones under 6 years old, one of three owners of Woodland Babies, and Vice President and Volunteer Babywearing Educator for Babywearing International of Greater Houston. When she isn’t babywearing, she enjoys hot coffee and napping. 

You can find her at her website: www.woodlandbabies.com or on facebook: www.facebook.com/woodlandbabies

On Apprenticeship - a Newer Doula's Perspective

This is a guest post from Anna, the apprentice doula I have been working with for awhile. She is an amazing doula, and I wanted to give her a chance to tell you about the benefits of Mentorship. 

Over the past 6 months, I've had the incredible honor of being Cole's apprentice. I started my training to be a doula about a year before that, but nothing else I'd done would prepare me for birth work like actually working with an experienced doula.
In 2012 I started the birth doula course with Childbirth International, and started slowly working my way through it. When I unexpectedly got my very first client, I knew immediately that I needed to talk one on one with someone locally that could help me understand more how the process worked. Even though we'd only met once before, Cole was totally willing to jump in and give me some great pointers. And when she contacted me about a year later and asked if I was still working on my certification and if I was interested in applying for an apprentice position, I jumped on the opportunity!

I'm not sure I can explain just how amazingly helpful this apprenticeship has been, but I'll try! Cole has taught me so much. It's one thing to gain book knowledge, which is important in its own way, but it's quite another to be involved with births hands on, getting to actually watch and learn from someone who's been doing birth work for over a decade. I feel that having Cole mentor me directly has accelerated me years ahead of what I could have learned on my own in the same time.
As you would expect, there's been lots of hands on skill share- from how to massage a laboring woman's hips and lower back, to rebozo work, to how to palpate a pregnant belly to determine baby's position. We've discussed many different labor classes, books, and techniques and how to best support a couple that's chosen to use a specific method. I've had a running list of questions the whole time and Cole seems to have knowledge on just about anything I can think of to ask.

Watching the way Cole conducts herself during the prenatal visits with each client was one of the more eye opening aspects of the apprenticeship process for me personally. She goes in so calm, relaxed, and confident, an attitude that really seems to help put the expectant parents at ease. She's not afraid to leave a little 'dead space' in the conversation, which gives the parents room to open up about any concerns that they might feel a little hesitant to bring up. I've loved seeing how each prenatal visit is a little different, tailored to the needs and personalities of each family. Shadowing Cole at several prenatals has really helped me feel more confident with my own clients, which in turn helps them to also feel more calm about the whole process.

One unique thing about this apprenticeship in particular, and something that I'm thankful for, is that several of the births that I attended with Cole were what might be called 'difficult births'. I'm thankful that I got to experience some of these firsthand with Cole there to guide me and show me how to handle certain things. As an example- the first birth I went to with Cole was a very fast, very intense birth. Baby was born just about an hour after we all arrived at the hospital!

Because labor was progressing so fast, things were very intense and momma was very LOUD. As a brand new doula, it was pretty intimidating for me! I didn't realize at first that the reason things were so intense was that the labor was progressing really quickly and baby was about to be born. Cole stayed super calm throughout the whole thing and explained to me later why things had happened the way they did. I was really thankful for that experience several months later when a client of my own had a short, intense, LOUD labor as well, and I was much better prepared to serve her after having been to a similar birth with Cole ahead of time.

Another of the births that I shadowed at ended up being a long, 20+ hour birth. It can be hard at first for new doulas to learn to prioritize self care during long births. It's so easy to think, 'no, I can't leave mom!' even if it's been 24 hours since you've slept and 12 since you've eaten anything. It was great for me to see Cole's example during that long labor and to see that it really is ok, and even necessary, to take a 15 or 20 minute break to get some food or some rest(even if that means crashing on the couch in the waiting room!). It's so much better to take a couple moments to rest and recharge than to be completely depleted by the time mom is ready to push.

Another advantage to apprenticing with a doula in your local area is that they can give you location specific business tips. Cole strongly encouraged me to charge what I was worth, even from the very birth. When my first birth ever turned out to be 30 hours long, I was so thankful that I'd listened to her advice and charged what I did. Because birth is such a personal event and because doulas put so much heart into what we do, it can be difficult at first to put a price tag on your services, especially when you believe that every mom deserves a doula! But personally as a single mom, birth work is also how I put food on the table for my family. Cole helped me to look at every aspect, determine what my time and services offered were worth, and gain the confidence to be able to charge that.

Cole has also been amazing in teaching me the emotional support side of things too. Doulas are by definition support people, and it takes a strong person with good boundaries to be able to truly support someone, especially when things happen that are less than ideal or when someone makes choices that are different from your own. I've truly learned that being a doula is about supporting *women* and not an agenda, and that to support someone you have to meet them where they're at. Getting to a place where I can look a momma in the eye and say, "I want you to make the choice that is right for *you*", and really meaning it, is so important. I've been so thankful to have Cole there to talk through some of the learning and growing and thinking processes with me as I've explored these questions and what being a doula really means for me and the women that I'm honored to serve.

If you're thinking about becoming a doula and are wondering how to get started, I would highly recommend pursuing an apprenticeship with a local doula that you respect and trust. Book knowledge is so wonderful and so needed, but nothing can compare to the hands on training that can only come through attending births with an experienced doula. I'm so thankful to Cole for all she's passed on to me, and for allowing me the opportunity!

The Best Dad In The World

I’m the best dad in the world. Well, at least that’s what my wife assures me. To her, I wear a gigantic S on my chest. Babies swoon and women fall into blissful slumber (or was it the other way around?). But let me tell you a little secret – it’s not because I solve the world’s problems, it’s because I love her. Right now, every dude who’s reading this is thinking ‘great, I’m going to be the best dad in the world too’. But hold up. There’s a way to love a woman, and I’m not talking about the ‘take me now’ type of lovin’ that so many of us Neanderthalic men consider ‘love’ to be.

My wife says that I’m the best dad in the world because, moments after we found out that we were pregnant with our first, when she turned to me and said she wanted a homebirth, I didn’t faint, scream, vomit, or even blink. I hugged her, said ‘that’s great’ and asked her for more information. Then, when she brought me piles of literature and studies, guess what, I read them all. Yup, you read that right. This guy got down and dirty with Marsden Wagner and Ina May.

My wife says that I’m the best dad in the world because, even though, truth be told, I really had no interest in childbirth whatsoever, I went to her midwife appointments. I didn’t just go; I asked if I could find babies heartbeat. I asked if I could measure her fundus. I asked “insightful” questions (midwife’s words, not mine) and tried to learn all that I could so that I would be a competent birth partner. When it was time to attend childbirth classes, I didn’t just attend, I participated. I made sure to out-participate every other male in the room. And, when she accidently passed gas in the middle of a squat, I piped up, ‘Excuse me, must be couvade”.

My wife says that I’m the best dad in the world because, when she started to gain too much weight for the midwife’s liking and she did an overhaul on my wife’s diet, I went on the diet too. I dieted whether I was at home or not. When she got incessant cravings for chocolate, I went on a one-man mission to find the most awesome, healthy alternative possible: frozen chocolate avocado custard. I called her sexy, beautiful, desirable… and not only to her face, but to everyone else as well.

My wife says that I’m the best dad in the world because I really take my job seriously – I’m her biggest fan and made sure everyone knew it. When family and friends began questioning our sanity and our babies safety for some of our choices, there was no hesitation; I firmly told them where they can shove their opinions. I went so far as to tell my mom that she can either get with the program (‘here mom, read these’) or we would be happy to send her a birth announcement and there’s the door. It didn’t matter what family get-together it was, who it was, or what kind of smack they were talking. If it ruffled my princess’s bubble of peace, this knight-in-shining-armor would knock them off their high horses. Might I add, all of that reading and all of those visits to the midwife made me a formidable adversary; I knew my shit.

My wife says I’m the best dad in the world because, through 36 hours of strong labor, I was present. When she said ‘call the doula’, I called the doula. When she said I wasn’t doing it right, I asked the doula to do it for her. When she told me to shut up, I got excited, not offended. I set up a birth pool, made her snacks, brushed her hair off her forehead, lit candles, and hung her birth banner. When she got down on hands and knees and roared like a lion, I told her she was amazing. And when she told me to get in to the tub with her as our baby was crowning, I hopped in: cell phone, jeans, and all! She brought our baby up to her chest and I tell you, I was a mess (and I’m not talking about the birth water – even though that’s some funky stuff).

And she said I was the best dad in the world.

Truth be told, she didn’t need me there, for any of it, she never did. She could have made the whole journey with just her midwife and her doula; probably even without them. But she wanted me to go on this journey with her. She invited me, and even though I didn’t know it at the time, there was no other place that I would have rather been.

How was I the best dad in the world when our baby was mere moments old? Because I had proven myself for the 9 months that she was busy being the best mom in the world. She didn’t need a doubter – she had that in all of the hecklers around us. She didn’t need a savior – that would only undermine her amazing baby-makingness. She didn’t need a jokester – she had as much of that as she could stomach on TV and movies. She wanted someone to take the journey with. And I tell you what, the moment I saw the culmination of our love embodied in this perfect little human, I sure was thankful that our son was given the best dad in the world!

Allen is the father of one, a 2 month old son. He and his wife live in the Houston area and are home birthing, cloth diapering, and EBFing their child (well, she is EBFing). You can sometimes find him hiding his cape under a moby wrap while he wears his son during a walk through the park.

I Owned My Birth - Guest Post

I  have asked each of my doula-sisters in the Houston Doula Cooperative to share a guest post with me for something near and dear to their hearts. Trina is my first featured doula-sister. She is amazing! I was honored to meet her about a year ago and, right off the bat, I fell in love with her straight forward, no-nonsense, tell-you-like-it-is attitude. She is a wonderful doula, and a breath of fresh air. Her topic? Breech Birth.

I never really thought about breech birth, until I was faced head on with it in 2010.  I think for most people, the concept is foreign, and often means cesarean.  It wasn’t like that for me.  For me, it was a rollercoaster of emotions and a hurdle I had to overcome.  My journey to breech birth was full of stress and heartbreak, tears and fear, and empowerment.

I was pregnant with my second child.  I was planning a home birth.  I anticipated an easy and fast labor with my husband and midwives by my side, while we welcomed our daughter.  I never felt fear or anxiety until 36 weeks.

At 36 weeks, my baby was breech.  My heart sank, and I immediately started to feel anxiety and fear.  I was terrified at the thought of a cesarean.  I didn’t want to have my baby in a hospital.  I didn’t want to spend weeks healing from a birth.  My first birth was easy, healing was a breeze and I expected nothing less this time.....until that day.

I don’t think anyone can truly understand the feeling that comes with such shocking news, unless you have experienced it.  I was devastated.  I was terrified.  I was confused.  My husband didn’t truly understand it, how could he?

When I met with the OB he gave me the option to have a vaginal breech birth, or a cesarean.  My baby had engaged, so he wasn’t able to manually turn her.  I am not sure I would have opted for that anyway, in my research, it sounded painful and risky.  That appointment left me even more confused, now I had to decide if I wanted to opt for surgery.....or have a vaginal birth, and take all the risk that came along with it.

I spent hours researching.  I read stories, I read articles, I researched ways to encourage the baby to turn...but ultimately I had to go with my gut.  My gut said that I couldn’t sign up for a cesarean.  I wasn’t going to have someone cut my baby out of me without at least trying. 

Everyone around me told me I was stupid, I was putting my life and my babies life at risk.  They told me that I should just have a cesarean because it’s easier and no big deal.  They told me there was no way I could have a vaginal birth, and asked why I would even try.  It was negative, and emotional and stressful.  No one asked me how I felt about it.  No one asked me why I was making the decision.  They just told me I was stupid and careless.

I had all the support I needed.  I had an OB who was willing to deliver breech.  I had 2 midwives who said they would support my decision, whatever it was.  I had a husband who believed in me.  That’s all I needed. 

I tried to let the negativity role off my back, and to ignore the comments, but it was hard.  I was in a lonely place where I felt no one really understood.  I did have my doubts.  I did consider just signing up for surgery.  There were times I let the negatively around me get the best of me.  There were times that I thought maybe I was being selfish. 

When I look back at it now, I can't recall all the details of what happened during the month leading up to my daughters birth.  I know I was emotional, and stressed out.  I know I took much of that out on my son, who was the only one with me most of the time.  I know I had a hard time talking to people, because I was afraid of what they would say to me.  My husband was working away from home, and I had little support as it was.  I had less support planning for a vaginal breech birth which people deemed as a death trap. 

In all the research I did, I don’t recall anyone talking about how people around you would react.  I feel like this is an important topic in birth.  Not only  in breech birth, but in any alternative birth plans.  There always seems to be negativity.  I experienced a lot of negativity for my decision.  What I didn’t experience negativity for was my choice to induce my labor.  Interesting!!

When we decided to induce our labor, more for convenience that anything, no on batted an eye.  No one questioned my decision to use medications to force my baby from my body.  They only questioned my choice to birth her in a breech position.  It’s become such a social norm to get induced, that no one even considered the risks that came with it.  Far more risk than birthing a breech baby with a medical team who had years of experience.

I was lucky, my induction was relatively low intervention.  I used cervidal, and needed no further augmentation.  I had none of the complications that can come with induction, other than a longer labor than I would have had if I had let my body go into labor on it’s own.  Now, we chose induction because of my history of fast delivery, and the distance from the hospital.  I wouldn’t do it again.

The day I had my baby, I was anxious.  I wondered how things would play out, I hoped for a vaginal birth, and I knew I would not get pain medication unless I needed surgery.  It took my body from 8am-5pm to get into active labor.  I had my daughter at 10:13pm.  She was born breech, vaginal and without Pain Medications.

There was negativity in the room that evening.  The nurses were nervous, and I could feel it.  I could sense the tension every time they walked in the room.  They kept pushing me to take pain relief (laughing gas), which finally was moved across the room so they would stop shoving it in my face.  When they spoke to me, I could feel the negativity towards what I was doing.  It was unsettling, and unwelcomed.  I did not need negativity in my birth room.

I had a great support team, my husband and midwife, who kept me calm and reminded me to let go, to release the tension and to ignore the negativity.  It got me through without a doubt.

Negativity does not belong in birth rooms.  Remember that!  Pregnant woman do not need your negative stories, they do not need your negative comments.  I did not make my decision to have a vaginal breech birth lightly.  I researched   A LOT.  I did not do it to rebel or to prove a point.  I honestly felt like it was the right thing to do, and it was.  I experienced a lot of negativity.  I was strong enough to move on, many are not.  Many women take that negativity to heart, they question themselves, they change THEIR PLANS because of the fear placed on them by the people around them. This is not fair.  It is not right.

Women were made to birth, I wholeheartedly believe this.  They are not all going to choose to birth the same way, and they shouldn’t have to.  Each woman is going to make decisions that they feel are best for them, and you as the friend, co-worker, family member, need to accept that and support their decisions.  I didn’t get support from my friends, co-workers or family members.  I was strong enough to know my own capabilities.  I was able to power through with the doubt, the fear, and the negativity placed on me from the people around me.  Not everyone can do that. 

I had a vaginal breech birth.  No one will ever take that from me!  I made decisions.  I fought the fear.  I let go of the social negativity to get a birth that I will forever be proud of.  I owned my birth.  Every woman needs to own her birth. It’s empowering!

For more information on Trina, visit her on FB, her business site Moonlight Doula, or visit our co-ops FB page or website. You can also read her birth story on BWF

For  more information on breech resources, check out the following: 

• A Breech in the System - a great movie, and you can watch the trailer here.
• Breech Options - a list of breech options, including information on how to turn a breech baby and how to make proactive choices that are right for your needs. 
• Caring for a Breech Birth - HAND's OFF
• The Coalition for Breech Birth - a wonderful resource on breech birth and advocacy for it

A Birthstory - Given's Smile

Aimee and her husband were clients of mine over a year ago. Their youngest son's birthday is coming up in just a short while and she wanted to share her birth story with all of you. At the same time, she wanted to give you a change to partner with her family in celebrating Given's beautiful smile and life in a very humbling and life-altering way! I am going to let her share her story, as she does it so beautifully!  

I have been struggling to write this for a year. In three weeks it will have been one year since my Given was born. One entire year has come and gone and I still sit here staring at a blank screen because I don’t know how to begin to tell a story like the one of his birth. It is too big and life changing for words. It has loomed over me begging to be told and I feel that I have failed to tell it properly or do it any justice before I even put pen to paper. I feel like I cannot tell something like this and have it really, really be felt that way I felt it or have it change someone to read it the way it changed me to live it. Above all, I want to tell his story so people who haven’t been there can have a glimpse of it and for those who have been there will know they aren’t alone.

I’ll just start. Details have faded over the past year and all of the ins and outs of labor and lengths of contractions seem so unimportant now. They are the things that add structure and timing to a normal birth story. Markers along the way that help you keep the story in order and allow people to make sense of it when they read it later. My story doesn’t have many of those anymore because all of the order and structure and timing was blown away completely when my doctor said the words ‘looks we have a little cleft here.’ Once those words were spoken all of the letters were blown off the page and flew around the room over my head. For a year I’ve been waiting for them to settle so I can arrange them to make sense but I’m sure now that they won’t. My world has been so deeply and irrevocably changed that it’s impossible to make sense of, or remember clearly what happened that day. What has happened to my family is ultimately too beautiful to ever make sense of. I am sure that I am not that talented as a writer or a thinker.

I’ll begin by saying that I had been ready for our second child since our first was only 6 months old. I dove into the deep end of pregnancy and motherhood - loving every second of my new identity and all that came with it. I wanted to do it all over again, it had been so wonderful and mysterious the first time. It solidified all of my desires to have 4 kids, as soon as possible. To have a house full of screaming, running boys (or girls) breaking things and laughing and making our family complete. My husband, on the other hand, waded in up to his knees and needed a minute to feel out the water. He thought I was joking when I held my 6 month old and said ‘let’s do this again. Like, now.’ He actually laughed out loud. So we waited until I literally felt like someone was missing from the backseat of our car. We would drive and I felt like we had left someone behind. Like our family was bigger than this but they just weren’t with us. We tried again, and got pregnant in 3 months. I was completely elated. I am one of those women who enjoys every minute of being pregnant and having babies. Yes, even when I’m huge and swollen and can’t see my toes. Even when I’m in labor and the pain is unimaginable. Especially when I get to hold a warm, sweet life and know that I helped create this beauty inside of my own body. That in a sense, my body went and made it with no real help from me, except to eat and drink and sleep when I should. It is the most magical thing a woman gets to be a part of; a tangible partnership to be a co-creator with God. I am completely convinced of this.

I spent the first half of my pregnancy trying to find a doctor who would let me deliver vaginally. My first son was born via cesarean after 35 hours of natural labor with a midwife. His birth (apart from the miracle that was him) was the hardest thing I had ever been through. Months of growing him and reading books and looking forward to my very first birth experience, carefully choosing a wonderful midwife and birthing center, reading more books on birth and natural birth and labor, and then working for 35 sleepless hours to make it happen, all to have to deliver in a hospital, with an epidural, in a room full of strangers, and not hold or nurse my baby for 3 hours... I had been heartbroken about this. Thankfully my little man had healed these wounds with a close bond and 2 years of breastfeeding. He was, and is, an extension of my heart. But his birth story had broken me on a level I couldn’t fully access. It had taken away my ideals of birth and made me feel less than capable; less than invincible as a Mama.

I looked so forward to being completely healed. That last tiny bit of me that hurt to think about Ransom’s birth story was going to be erased with this one, I just knew it! I searched Houston for midwives who would let me vbac. Birth centers, hospitals, and finally OB-Gyns. No one. I was shocked and frustrated that what I had thought was becoming mainstream and safe was apparently not an option for me. Then, finally, I found him! Dr Tobey Stevens, although I wasn’t his ‘favorite candidate for a successful vbac’ would let me try. It was all I needed. After all, he was just the baby catcher. I already had a doula (the lovely Cole Deelah, who I felt understood me deeply from our first meeting) and a husband to believe in me and help me get there. I was positive that I could vbac. And, vbac I did.

On June 10th, I woke up in Ransoms twin bed with steady and uncomfortable contractions. It was around 7am. I had been sleeping in his room for the past few nights because he had the habit of climbing into bed with us in the middle of the night. Mama, Papa and Ransom plus Mama’s belly was asking too much of our queen bed, so when he came to our bed, I went to his. I got up thinking it may just be practice contractions. Just a few days before I had seen Dr Stevens and heard him say ‘no progress, but you still have a week until you’re due. I’ll see you in a week and we’ll see how long you want to go before we schedule a cesarean.’ The answer? Indefinitely. I suppose my tiny man heard him say that and decided to make his appearance sooner than later. I was so excited to realize that this was labor! Actual, real, rhythmic, increasingly painful LABOR! All of my waiting was about to become a baby. A baby boy, nonetheless. A brother for my little man, a wearer of the precious hand me down clothes I had kept boxed in the closet. Someone to sleep in the space between my husband and I, and who I could finally touch and smell, and love right out here in the open. I couldn’t wait.

I had looked forward so much to labor this time. I actually loved it the first time around. The pain was manageable and the anticipation was overwhelming. I remember clearly everything I ate, everywhere I walked, how we timed contractions meticulously, when we called the midwife. All of it was seared in my brain just as fresh as if it had been yesterday. It was a beautiful out of body experience that I had looked forward to doing again for a long time. (of course minus the hospital bits I mentioned before) This time around was.... different. Good LORD, it hurt. It was sharp and blunt at the same time. It was in my back, my legs, my arms, my belly. It hurt to breathe or move during contractions. All of the pacing I had planned on doing turned into me sitting as still as I possibly could during those squeezes, as if willing myself to be a human statue would make it hurt less. I breathed as slowly and shallowly as I could because I was pretty sure I could feel my lungs in my back. That’s when I first realized how little I really knew of childbirth. We called the doula, and my husband took some birth video which consists mostly of the soccer game that was on, and nervous pacing through the house and staring into the yard. I do make a short cameo appearance, frozen on the bed in a contraction. We passed most of the day like this. Cole came and helped tremendously. She convinced me to leave the bed and try a bath. With Ransom I had fallen asleep in the tub. This time I felt like I might seize in pain and drown, so I got out. She worked doula magic by slinging my belly with a scarf and gently shifting it back and forth until (I believe) he turned and the pain subsided significantly. I hung from Edward’s shoulders, I hung from a scarf over a doorway, and finally I allowed her to check me.

I remember you wanting to know but not wanting to know - asking how far I thought you were. You asked every question about how far you might be except that one - how far dilated you were. When you finally did ask, it took you a good while to decide you really did want to know. I felt that there was something holding you back from the information.

I had been laboring for 10 hours and was fully expecting her to find me at a 9 so we could make the final trek to the hospital. I wasn’t about to march in there at a 3 and have them mess up the experience for me.

She found that I was at a 2, maybe a 3. I sunk. Ransom’s birth suddenly was all over me. The hours and hours working at home. Going to the midwife to be sent home again. Going back hours later to find no progress. Having my cervix manually opened because it seemed completely lost as to what it was supposed to be doing. 35 hours and a surgery. Please, God, not again. NOT again.

And I believe that that was what was holding you back; the last remnants of another birth were hanging onto you. You went into yourself then, working through things that you didn't articulate to us. But things were definitely changing, and fast. Your contractions were strong and there was a mental giving over/up - just as you had been doing all along with your body; this was crucial.

We decided to go to the hospital in the hopes that being there, where I had decided to be, would speak to my body subconsciously and allow me to progress. We loaded the car and left and the whole way there I prayed and thought and prayed some more. I needed this baby to come out the ‘right’ way. The way I had missed before. The way I had been dreaming of.

When you stepped out of the car, your face was flushed and resolute. This was a different woman.

When we arrived at the hospital, 12 hours into labor, I was a 7. Praise God, this baby was coming out the front door! I was blessed with nurse who allowed me to stay in my own gown from home, and looked the other way (or really didn’t see) when I ate grapes and crackers and drank water. I wasn’t about to fool around with ice chips at this point in the game. My body needed food. And rest - I had been going and blowing pretty hard since 7 am and when 8 pm rolled around I realized that even if I was allowed to push right then I was sure I wouldn’t be able to do it. My mind was engaged, but my body was completely sacked. Somehow I just knew that if I didn’t get real rest before ‘go time’ I would end up in surgery again. There was literally nothing I dreaded more. SO, much to my own surprise I actually asked for an epidural. A partial, because I wanted to move and change positions and be somewhat in control of my body, but an epidural nonetheless so I could rest. So I could vbac. It was a sacrifice I was more than willing to make for what felt to me like certain vbac.

Once the drugs were on board I could rest. I slept for a short time, and Edward took the opportunity to pass out on the mini-couch-chair things they keep in delivery rooms. He looked so horribly uncomfortable when I woke up, but insisted on not folding it out. I’m sure he thought if he folded it out that he would be in a deep sleep when the baby came and would miss it. After a short nap I couldn’t sleep at all. The pain had been numbed and the excitement took over and then my labor completely stalled out at a 9. I mean, stalled for hours. To this day I’m torn about the epidural because if I hadn’t had one it’s likely he would have been born on the 10th, but he probably would have been a cesarean birth which I’m sure would have put me over the proverbial ‘edge’. So, stalled at the very edge of my new life, my doula and I had a slumber party. We talked about my son, and her kids, and this baby who was just waiting at the gate, and we talked about names and why the meanings are so deeply important to us, and life, and we (at least, I) ate those awful hospital rainbow popsicles until the wee hours of the morning, and the later hours of the morning. I would doze off to wake up and see her sitting up still, right next to me. She was a willing and enthusiastic sentinel. She got coffee and snacks for Edward, she rubbed my back, she forgave me for slapping her hand away when pain had taken away my ability to use words. She was incredible. At one point we had a good laugh because she fell asleep sitting in her chair, face down at the foot of my bed and woke up with waffle print on her face from the hospital blanket. It was a well deserved nap that I was glad she took.

That's what I got for sleeping on the job!

I had a stubborn bag of water, so after all of this time it was bulging but still intact and showing no signs of weakness, so I agreed to an artificial rupture. My doctor (who had shown up Monday morning) believed I’d progress quickly if we did that, and turned out to be right. A short time later I was allowed to push, and push I did! God, how I love to push. It’s like that first gasp of air you take after being too deep in the pool - just bursting through the surface and inhaling for all your life is worth. It’s a total release from all of the painstaking work of contractions and a promise that the baby - MY BABY is almost here! A few hours of pushing and he’ll be in my arms, perfect and sweet and suckling at my breast. I could just about taste it. I was also pushing that little epidural clicker for all I was worth - what felt like every 5 minutes to me, and it wasn’t working. At all. I was later told that I only pushed it about every 30 minutes, but good lord it wasn’t working! I could feel my legs and feet again - and I don’t mean numb, tingly feeling, I mean I could FEEL. At the time I wanted anything but to feel all of it, but now I look back and am so deeply thankful that the (originally unwanted) epidural did it’s job of letting me rest, and then backed off so I could also have the feelings of vaginal birth I had longed for. I wanted to know where he was, and how fast he was moving, and feel him join the world for the very first time.

You moved your baby down so fast! And I truly believe it was because you could feel the pressure and a little of the pain.

And I did. I worked, and Edward and Cole worked, and the nurses worked, and Dr Stevens came in just in time to catch my baby boy as he fell from my body and breathed air into his precious lungs for the first time. 28 hours after I woke up in labor, I felt him leave me and arrive all at once, and all at once I was healed of the years of hurt I had endured over a broken birth experience with my first. The physical scar I carried may as well have been erased and I was whole as a mother and as a woman. And then he said it. He spoke the words that broke me all over again. ‘Looks like we have a little cleft here.’

From there my life changed forever, and it’s where the story gets a little fuzzy for me now. I changed, and my family changed so much that I don’t really remember what I was like before those words were spoken. See, Given had been in there just as he was the whole time. He never changed or wavered from who God was making him in my belly, but all of a sudden the baby I had pictured and talked to, and sang to, and loved was ... not what I thought he’d be. He seemed like a stranger to me for just one split second.

I vaguely remember saying something like ‘I don’t care, give him to me.’

You did say 'Give him to me'. :)

Cole took beautiful photos the entire time and I have relived this day over and over through them. This is one of my favorites because of my hand in the left corner. I couldn't wait to have him in my arms.

I wanted to hold him first and although I’m sure it was seconds, I felt like they were hogging him and he was mine. What was taking so long? I wanted to be the one to snuggle and wipe him down, to kiss his head and make him feel safe. They wrapped him in a towel and handed him to me. I remember seeing his little face for the first time. So beautiful and so broken open at the same time. His grey eyes blinked and looked for me, and when we met each others gaze we both knew we would be alright. He was absolutely gorgeous. The gaping hole in the middle of his tiny face broke my heart for him, but I knew we’d be alright. Aside from the wide open cleft that gave him a permanent look of shock, his face was so expressive and inquisitive, and calm. He spoke to me without words and we fell in love. I looked at my husband, and with both of us crying, said ‘he’s perfect. He’s so perfect.’

I love this photo, taken just seconds after we saw him for the first time

It was then that the rest of the room gave a collective sigh and then cried. A beautiful family - joined together for the first time. And it was sacred.

hello papa

Then the questions came. Can he nurse? Does it hurt? Can he take a pacifier? What do we do now? Answers were there for some of them, but not all. ‘You can try’ and ‘no’ and ‘sort of’. My picture perfect daydream of taking him home, nursing him and co-sleeping was shattered. All of a sudden my crunchy, granola, natural mama routine seemed out of date and insignificant. Eating organic wouldn’t fix this cleft. We can’t co-sleep because he can’t breastfeed. I fooled myself for a few days into thinking we could work out a way for him to latch. The nurses knew better. They brought me a pump the first night and I have a love/hate relationship with it to this day. We went through weeks of syringe-feeding and trying different bottles, sleep deprivation, spit up, reflux, worse reflux and gas pain. I had never heard a baby so tiny burp like a man and hopefully never will again. He had such painful, body shaking burps. Because of a 13mm wide complete unilateral cleft (which just means the right side of his mouth is open front to back, all the way into the nasal cavity) he swallowed air constantly. He burned about as many calories as he took in because eating was so much work. But Lord, that boy loved, and still loves, to eat!

Our first night in the hospital was surreal. He slept in my arms and in his little plastic bin next to my bed. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. The doctors wanted his blood sugar monitored to check for gestational diabetes. It surprised me because at 8lb, 2oz he was my little baby. I’m pretty sure now they just wanted to see that he was eating something. I made my husband follow him to the nursery and back anytime he went. The nurses could tell I hated to see him go and they graciously let Edward stay right by his side anywhere he went. He passed his hearing test which everyone was happy about because it meant that he wasn’t deaf. He could have been deaf?! We were learning more than we ever thought possible in such a short time. I had been put in touch with a cranio-facial team in Houston and we had appointments set up before we even went home. I had personal phone numbers to keep in touch over the weekend ‘in case we needed anything.’ What could I possibly need that badly?

On the first morning in the hospital he was already beginning to look 'normal' to me and I just couldn't stop kissing that sweet face

In the days and weeks following his birth, we were flooded with love from friends and family. We were also flooded with questions we couldn’t answer, and suggestions and recommendations, and contacts and doctors appointments. We were assured that he’d be fine because this, or that celebrity had a cleft and look at them now. I remember thinking that I wasn’t worried about how he would look. I was worried because he couldn’t eat or speak properly. He couldn’t just be comfortable and nurse himself to sleep. Everything was such hard work. We felt like we were barely treading water and just when I felt my face going under each time I would hold him and he would look knowingly at me, or nuzzle closer into me and it would all be alright again. And then came the smile. That incredible, heart melting, wide smile was worth every millimeter of the cleft. He was my life saver through it all. He was worth every bit of the unknown, and fear, hurt. Because, you see, he brought all of the joy and beauty and wholeness as well. There wasn’t anyone missing from our backseat anymore and that was the most important thing I could imagine.

My boys! For the record, Ransom never flinched. He said he wanted to give him kisses, and afterwards would draw pictures of Given's 'pretty little lips'

And after months of horribly difficult treatments, and pumping exclusively for almost a year now, and a surgery behind us and one ahead, we are in a place that we can look back from and see how much we’ve grown. Given is a gorgeous, mischievous, happy boy who would follow his big brother to the ends of the earth. We call him Tiny because he’s a little guy, but it doesn’t reflect his personality at all. If I had the power to go back and take his cleft away, I wouldn’t. I hate it for all of the hurt and frustration it has causes him and us, but I also know that it is a gift. Without it, he just wouldn’t be him. We wouldn’t have grown and changed and sought God the way we have. We wouldn’t have anything to give to other parents who are surprised with cleft babies in their lives. We wouldn’t have our hearts truly broken for all of the children and mothers and fathers affected by this all over the world. Those changes in us have been deep and are lasting, and they are invaluable to me, just as Given is. In a way they were his, and God’s gift to us.

When I think about his birth now, the one thing that stands out to me the most is what he taught me in the first moments I held him; my first of many lessons from Given. I took him in my arms and kissed him and he stopped crying almost immediately. We said hello to each other and I offered him my breast, not knowing what else to do for him and praying he could nurse. He immediately went to work. He knew exactly what to do and had no idea that his body wouldn’t let him do it. He had no clue that he was anything less than perfect and that’s what made me realize that he was right. He wasn’t anything less than perfect. He wanted to nurse, and I wanted it for him but it just wasn’t meant to be. What I realized by his enthusiasm in that moment was that he was not a victim of his cleft. In his eyes, he was complete and made just exactly as he was meant to be. He knew nothing about deformities or brokenness. All he knew is that I was his Mama, and he was my baby and we were meant for each other.

That is what I think of in the moments of weakness when I want to feel sorry for myself, or for him. He is only a victim if I make him one and he deserves more from me than that. All I need to know and teach him is that I am his Mama, and he is my perfect baby and we are meant for each other. I am truly so grateful that he was meant to be mine.





One year ago our sweet Given was born with a cleft lip and palate. Even with all of the amazing resources we have had at our fingertips, the past year has been (sometimes excruciatingly) difficult in a lot of ways. We have been so incredibly blessed to have access to specialized bottles, pumps, medicines, teams of doctors and emotional support. Given has had everything he could possibly need to thrive and be happy, and is doing incredibly well. He makes us laugh everyday and brings us so much joy.

To celebrate his first birthday, in lieu of traditional gifts, we are asking our friends and family to consider partnering with us in giving a gift to a child born with a cleft that doesn't have the resources they need. It's so easy to change a child's life and it is such a deeply meaningful and lasting gift. Given will have his second surgery on June 14th, just 3 days after he turns one. We are believing that we can raise enough money to provide 2 surgeries for another child by that date. It only costs $240 for one surgery!

Go here to make a donation:
http://support.operationsmile.org/goto/given_sanchez

Here is a video with a little more information about what Operation Smile does:

I hope to see many many smiles changed through the selfless giving of my friends, family, and readers. Let's make Given's first birthday even more amazing (if possible) than it already is! Thank you, family Sanchez, for sharing your journey with us and for allowing me the privilege of knowing your wonderful family.

The Pediatric Airway - Guest Blogger

Terri is a newer blogger over at RN Perspective. She has been a pediatric nurse and wants to share her insight with new parents. She initially contacted me to share her awesome post about Why You Should Choose a Birth Center, and I invite you to go read it, as she is looking for feedback from people who have used a birth center instead of a hospital.

Terri also offered to write a pediatric piece applicable to the Spring/Summer season. I invite you to read it as I learned something new and hope you do as well.

The Pediatric Airway

As a pediatric RN, I’ve worked with newborns and adolescents. One of the most common problems I encounter among pediatrics regardless of the age group is an issue with breathing/reactive airway. The term reactive airway and asthma are often used interchangeable, but I’m here to tell you that they are not necessarily the same condition. 

With reactive airway disease (RAD), there is not really a specific diagnosis, it’s a term used to describe symptoms such as coughing, wheezing and shortness of breath with an unknown cause. On the other hand, asthma is a chronic inflammatory disorder of the airways, which causes attacks of wheezing, shortness of breath, chest tightness, and coughing. So as you can imagine, there are times when kids with asthma are mistakenly diagnosed with RAD and vice versa.

Though some people think there is only one main cause of asthma symptoms, there are actually two main causes: airway constriction and airway inflammation, when the airways of the lungs are swollen and irritated (click for a look inside your lungs)

So what should you do if your child is diagnosed with asthma?

My Advice: Be a partner with your healthcare provider is finding the right combinations of medications. Be informed and reinforce education about the diagnosis with your child. Emphasize with your child that this condition is treatable and once there medication is under control they can do the same things as other children. Believe it or not, participating in sporting activities will help strengthen the lungs, so don’t limit your child. Asthma is not a shameful disease so encourage your kids to share their condition with their friends. For instance, you can have your child tell his/her friend in order for me to breathe better I need to use my inhaler before we play sports. No one wants to stand out or be different so find ways to remove the stigma.

I’m a pediatric RN on a surgical floor so I’ve seen lots of interesting procedures. The best thing about my job is that I’m able to give sick children and their families hope. I’ve learned that the most important thing in caring for a child is listening to their parents. No one knows their child better than a parent, so when a parent tells me they notice a change in their child’s behavior that’s a huge clue. I’ve always known I wanted to work with children and I could not be happier with my career. Follow me at RN Perspective to learn more.

For additional reading on alternative treatments to discuss with your care provider, see here, here, and here. Course of treatment should be decided on specific to the individuals needs, as there is no one treatment for every child.

Natural Childbirth - It’s like playing cards!

This guest post was written by Patricia Harman, the author of Blue Cotton Gown and Arm's Wide Open. I do hope you enjoy it!

There’s something about childbirth pain that frightens women, as if they aren’t man enough to take it. That cracks me up.

Though, I’ve given birth three times, twice naturally and once with a pain shot, a stubbed toe will make me cry. And the part about not being “man enough” is a good joke, since pretty much all women, think God made females have the babies because males couldn’t take it.

As a midwife, I’ve witness thousands of natural births and I have to say there’s something to be said for making it through labor un-medicated. It’s not just that most pain meds mess up your labor, but making it through the circle of fire is rewarding in itself, a transcendent experience. It does hurt, but with good support and a normal labor, most women can make it.

When I had my babies in the 1970s and 80s it was a big deal to take charge of our childbirth experience. The alternative was revolting. To be trussed on a metal delivery table, legs elevated in stirrups, arms spayed and tied down like Jesus, given gas whether you wanted it or not, the baby pulled out with forceps over a large episiotomy.

No bonding afterward; the baby was smacked on the butt and taken away. No father’s present, either, non-negotiable. You can see why we rebelled. Lamaze childbirth breathing wasn’t a joke then. It was the only weapon with had. “Look, Doc, we said with every breath. I can do it. I’m a woman not a child. I’m not going to scream my way through labor or kick you in the face.”

Things are little better in hospitals now, but not much. Women who opt for medicaliized childbirth are just tied down to different things…the birth bed and monitor belts or an internal fetal scalp probe, the IV needle and pole so she won’t get dehydrated, the ever handy Pitocin if her labor slows down, the epidural catheter in her back for continuous anesthesia and, subsequently, the urinary catheter because she can’t feel to pee.

Sounds almost as bad as the 70s, right? But not quite. At least the mother’s awake, the baby’s father can be involved if he wants to, family members can be present and if the woman’s lucky she’ll hold her baby before the nurses put antibiotic ointment in his or her eyes.

So, pain is a big consideration…and it’s scary if you’ve never done it before, kind of like jumping off a cliff into Lake Superior! You know it will be cold, but how cold? And will you be able to swim or will you freeze up?

I tell my patient, the most important choice she has to make, if she decides she wants a natural birth, is who will be her care provider and where she’ll have it. She needs to be in a setting and with people that make her feel relaxed, cared for and confident. 

Some women feel most secure in a high-tech OB Medical Center where they have all the bells and whistles, not to mention specialists and access to a C/section in minutes. That’s where they’ll do their best. Others feel safer at home and then there are the places in between, small hospitals and birthing centers.

Some people have utter confidence in physicians. Others are scared to death of anyone in a white coat. For the later women, a midwife would be a good choice or maybe a doc along with a doula…if they can find a doctor who cares as much about normal physiologic birth as he does about getting home for supper. I shouldn’t be so sarcastic. My husband is an OB and he’s the best! A midwife doc. But you know what I mean. There’s a reason so many C/Sections happen around 5 PM.

Not everyone can get through labor without medication. There are multiple factors that are unpredictable and out of our control. The position the baby lands in, the size of the baby, the shape and the size of mother’s pelvis, how and when her labor starts, the state of the bag of water, how much sleep she’s had when the contractions start….The list goes on.

It’s like a game of cards, you do the best you can with the hand you are dealt. The important thing is a healthy baby and to feel you did your best. Then everyone is a winner.

Patricia Harman is mother to 3 grown men and wife to Thomas Harman, OB/Gyn. Patricia Harman has spent over thirty years caring for women as a midwife, first as a lay-midwife, delivering babies in cabins and on communal farms in West Virginia, and later as a nurse-midwife in teaching hospitals and in a community hospital birthing center.

Patricia Harman still lives and works with her husband, Ob/Gyn Thomas Harman, in Morgantown, West Virginia at their clinic, Partners in Women's Health Care. Though she no longer attends births, she provides care for women in early pregnancy and through-out the life span. She brings to this work the same dedication and compassion she brought to obstetrics.

Letting Our Children Be Themselves - Guest Blogger

Renee is my last guest blogger for this series. She is the mother of 14 beautiful children and writes about homeschooling, positive parenting, photography, adoption, knitting, cooking, and so much more. She reminds me that, though life is busy, it is good! And I love her writing style. I invite you to read her take on what it means to be a conscious parent:

I wasn't sure exactly what aspect of conscious parenting I was going to write about, until talking to a friend the other night. She brought up something that has come up a lot over the last couple of years. People seem to find it surprising that we allow and encourage our children to follow their individual interests.

Perhaps people assume that since we are a large family, we can't take each child's individual passions into account. It's true that in a family our size conformity often rules the day: the children get up at the same time, we eat the same breakfast at the same time, we eat lunch together and start school together. But I view each one of my fourteen children as individuals. It comes in to play when I dress them, spend time with them, give them haircuts and plan out their education.

I recently asked Adalia (15), Judah (13) and Tilly (12) to write a research paper on a topic of their choice. The selections? Major WWII Battles, Ice Cream, and Breast Milk vs. Formula. I'll let you guess who wrote what.

For the rest of her story, read here.

Conscious Parenting Starts Before Baby Is Born - Guest Blogger

Jeremy Dyen is our next guest blogger that answered the call for what Conscious Families and Conscious Parenting meant to them. Jeremy is a musician, husband and father. He and his wife are advocates of imagery, hypnosis and affirmations to get rid of fears and tension in regards to childbirth, and they have a free hypnosis MP3 download, as well as birth-tips videos, at Fear Free Birth. He blogs at Stay at Home Papa. I absolutely adore his blog, as it is chock full of great parenting advice and information, as well as being witty enough to capture even my husband's attention.

I hope you enjoy reading about how Conscious Parenting Starts Before Baby is Born:
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Although it’s never too late to start parenting consciously, I strongly believe conscious parenting begins before your baby is born. Parents’ birth plan and a mother’s nutritional choices and overall health during pregnancy all lay the foundation for the kinds of choices you’re likely to make as a parent.

Our Switch From Hospital To Home Birth

The choices my wife and I made during her pregnancy took us on a journey. Actually, we did quite a 180. We originally opted for a hospital birth, inclusive of a planned epidural and whatever other “necessary” interventions would make the birth “safer.” But as we read more, talked with close friends about home birthing, and took a suggestion from our doula to consider homebirth, we realized that a homebirth was not only doable, but desirable.

We decided a bit late in the game (in my wife’s third trimester) to switch to a homebirth, and it was the best decision we could have made. I feel strongly that the choice we made laid the foundation for the kind of parenting we strive for. Having a homebirth allowed our daughter to enter the world in a comfortable and loving home. My wife birthed free of drugs or unnecessary interventions. I think that specifically laid the ground work for keeping plastic, chemicals, and artificial or processed foods out of our daughter’s life as much as possible. I think birthing at home promoted that immediate mama-daughter bond, since our daughter was in our arms immediately after my wife birthed her. I also think having a homebirth gave us a sense of community with many like-minded, conscious parents, perhaps because our midwife has created such a fantastic community.

Epidurals Detach Mom From Body And Baby

There’s a really important difference between a drug-free birth, and one with an epidural. The use of narcotics creates detachment. Using narcotics often makes you feel separate from your body, rather than connected to it. I mean, that is really the point of the drug, to detach you from the “pain.” Without the use of drugs, you remain fully connected to your body, and your baby. How does this connection affect your baby?

There are reports that suggest that babies are slower to feed when their mother used an epidural. Epidurals also disturb eye-to-eye contact right after birth. Eye-to-eye contact is important for bonding, since it triggers the release of oxytocin in the mother’s body, which encourages the baby to latch, to snuggle and to bond in general. I strongly believe that getting that natural high from oxytocin was the healthiest thing for my wife and daughter, not just during and immediately after birth, but for their long-term bond.

Perception of Childbirth Determines Outcome

One thing that we discovered during my wife’s pregnancy, was how much her mindset and mental state affected the choices she made, and I believe, the outcome of the birth itself. Remember, we were originally all about birthing in the hospital. She thought she was high risk because of her age (which was totally untrue). She generally had the mindset, perhaps because she worked in a hospital, that she would be safer there. She also had it set in her mind that birth would be the most painful thing, which is why she originally planned on using drugs during labor. From what I gather, expecting lots of pain, and being afraid of it, is quite common.

Hypnosis and Affirmations Work

The cool thing is that we discovered the power of hypnosis, guided imagery and other sorts of positive affirmations. Different things work for different people. But the general idea that you can deeply relax, get rid of fears, by consciously influencing your subconscious, is a powerful and real concept. It could be meditation, guided imagery, hypnosis, yoga or some other meditative exercise. For us, hypnosis and affirmations worked great--so well, that we even created a free hypnosis download to share with people (visit here to sign up and receive it).

How Hypnosis and Relaxation Has Helped Me As A New Father

As a birth partner, I also found the hypnosis recordings really relaxing, and a real confidence booster. Using them during my wife’s pregnancy also made me realize that I can find peace and relaxation in times of stress after the birth. In those early months, anytime our daughter was crying, and fairly inconsolable, I found that when I was completely calm, she she would calm. When I got stressed, she would get more upset. So, I found that some deep breathing, or using imagery, was really helpful to relax me, and thus, relax her. Now, at nap time, if I can get into a deep state of calm, almost asleep, that she will fall asleep easily and without fuss.

Another cool thing that I did during my wife’s pregnancy, was to write down several affirmations. Some of them had to do with personal goals in music or business. Several of them focused on the outcome of the birth, my wife’s and daughter’s health, and our growing family. I would write down different things like, “our baby will be healthy,” or “our family is growing in so many positive ways.” I would focus on the different things I wrote down, and really try to picture them, and experience them. It may sound corny, but I really think it worked. I don’t mean that it was like some kind of magic, and if I just picture something it will come true. I do mean that the energy you put out will bring back similar energy.

Mindset Shifts For Life Changes

My wife and I are firm believers in this. Whether we used hypnosis, or imagery or affirmations, the most important thing is that focusing consciously on what we wanted did two things:

1. It focused our attention on our goals and caused us to act on those intentions (like choosing a homebirth, or choosing to educate as much as we could on the subject).
2. It sent messages to the universe that we aim to have what we want.

I continue to revisit these “tools” that help shape my life, and my family’s lives. I am thankful that my wife and I discovered these things during her pregnancy. They really made her birth easier, and I feel like they help us make the best parenting choices we can. They help us draw from within, to rely on our intuition, rather than rely solely on outside influences to shape us as parents.