Natural Birth
Adelle Serena Miller arrived screaming and messy as many babies do. The lead up to her birth was hopes for a different type of labour and delivery experience than my first. I had an amazing amount of prayer and blessing from family/friends and the residue of that fellowship impacts me even now. The scripture verses I asked for are literally changing my life. The time people took to assure me, pray for me and hope for me were and are such a ray of sunshine in my remembrance of what has transpired.
Now for the nitty gritty. I had a natural birth, yes, but there is nothing natural about it! It did not, at any point, feel natural to be pushing this baby out of my vagina. It actually felt more like I was about to split open and no one cared to stop that from happening. They just looked at me with hopeful eyes saying things like "you are doing great! The baby is coming!"
Villains.
I am not being un-serious, but on a more mature note, I am so grateful that I had a natural birth and I really do credit my "team" for pulling that off. My doula Cara is the reason why I had a natural birth - she kept me focused. My midwife Kim was stoic and amazing. My sister Paola was comic relief (although when she showed up I think I told her "hi, now disappear") and a familial witness. The nurse that came at the end gave some instrumental pushing direction that kept me on task. Last, but not least, my husband Roger was exactly where I wanted him - just watching - supporting from afar. No disrespect to him, but for some reason, even with my first, labour and delivery is very much a woman's sport and I had no real desire to be supported by someone who hadn't been through it.
It's a fairly common story... I started early labour at around 8am, went to Willows Beach with my daughter and dad and tried stay distracted but mobile. In the afternoon things started getting more intense so I started using the TENS machine (which is INCREDIBLE) and I had a friend come and bring her daughter to play with Isabella. By late afternoon I fully handed Isabella over to Roger and I went into my room to suffer :) I put out my scripture cards - which brought such strength and focus. And when it started to get too intense that I thought I was wavering, I called Doula Cara. Cara and I graduated from high school together and we've been friends a long time. It was such a privilege to have her be a part of this experience. She was incredible: supportive, helpful, focused, sympathetic, compassionate and she kept me from getting an epidural. I really did need an epidural with my first, but it almost sabotaged me three times when I just wanted that magical elixir in my spine to make all the pain go away. God used Cara as an ambassador to keep me going!
Soon the sneaky feeling of pushing was coming so I called my midwife and we were off to the hospital. This was the moment of truth. If she checked me and I was only 5cm, I would have not been talked out of getting an epidural. It wasn't even about the pain, it was the mental game of not knowing how long this party would last for. With Isabella it was 39hrs from my water breaking to her being born, so my big fear the whole time was that it would take days. I couldn't shake that fear either, but thankfully I was 8cm when she checked me. From when I arrived at the hospital to Adelle's birth was only 2 hrs, but it was the longest 2 hrs of my life! Transition was as described to me - just when you are ready to check out of your body and demand an end, it's time to push. Pushing was definitely a welcome change. I felt more in control and more productive. I can't remember how long I pushed for, but it was probably about 30-40mins. The ring of fire was just that, and that was my third and final time of almost giving up entirely. I totally lost it for a few seconds because her head was out but her shoulders were stuck and that pain was mind altering. But with all her wisdom, the midwife had me flip over and I pushed Adelle out on my hands and knees. Roger got woozy at this point, but I finally experienced the indescribable relief of it being over.... the baby was out, I wasn't pregnant anymore, I wasn't contracting anymore, the baby was safe, I wasn't dead or split open (well not very much). I was, however, on all fours, with a bloody child underneath me and I had no idea what to do! I got on my back somehow and they slapped the wet, screaming baby on my chest and the "clean up" process began. 10:44pm My sister informed me that the baby had a ball-gina (our word for the swollen vagina girls are born with), so the mystery was revealed! I was so happy! Bummed that Roger didn't get his boy, but neither of us felt any emotions like that for long. Two tiny tears, a shower, a first nursing, got dressed and loaded onto a hospital wheel chair and did the victory lap to the mother and babe unit.
I had a private room for two days and it was so peaceful and perfect. I love the aftercare, I love not having my laundry to stare at, I love the peace and quiet and the break from my little poopsie Isabella. It was a blessed time of bonding and resting. I greatly respect the home birth experience, but I am a hospital girl all the way.
I don't know if I will have more children, but I am also a huge fan of the epidural ;)
Newborns
I have to be honest in a way that exposes me..... I don't like newborns in general. I have about a minute long attention span for them. They are cute, "welcome to the world" and then bye-bye.
But MY newborn..I don't know what it is, I am drinking in her goofiness and soft cheeks on a minute basis. It might just be that it's the second time around and there is less anxiety (see next section for the full picture of that comment!) about certain things and I can just enjoy her, or the fascination with this miniature human that is created to make either completely endearing, cute little gestures, cuddles or totally entertaining old man faces and grunts.
My milk came in after a couple of days and with it came a flood of emotions. The "crazy love" as I call it, where on one hand there is such an overwhelming amount of love and adoration for not just the new kid, but one's whole family, and then the heartbreak of wanting them to only experience the best and safest that life has to offer. For me, it is usually at these surges of emotions that I find the loss of my mom almost unbearable. I think about her holding and kissing me as a newborn, and I miss that I can't share any of this with her. I feel small in the timeline of history and life feels so brief and sad some times. My parents relished our childhood and now it has blossomed into adulthood and grand parenting for my dad, but the major witness to his life has moved on without him and I almost can't breathe thinking about it. Even in my own short stint as a parent - I find it staggering that I have already lived out two years with my first child, and those sleepless, frightening nights when I rocked her and didn't know what to do but watch her sleepy grins as she finally fell asleep, are over. That is when I remember that there is only one true, constant witness of our life, our Father God in heaven and it is such a huge relief to know that with all the brokenness and beauty in this life, there is a bigger plan and by His grace, it is a plan that rocks.
Siblings
When I found out I was pregnant, I most certainly grieved the thought of it no longer being just me and my sidekick, Isabella. Her and I are two peas in a pod and do almost everything together and now I was changing that. I haven't grieved it quite as long as others perhaps because I felt so strongly that I was giving her such an amazing gift to have a sibling. She is incredibly social, loves babies and kids and will be a great sibling. The other reason I moved on from those thoughts was because I need another child. Isabella and I are VERY attached and I need her to not be the centre of my universe. It's too overwhelming of a relationship for me to have her be the only one. This might not be something anyone can relate to, but I need the balance of sharing my love with another child (or children). So while I still have sadness and giving it up, it's right for us and I am grateful.
My mother-in-law had a great idea that when I was at the hospital with the new baby, not to bring Isabella and then take her away (she would be traumatized), but to bring her when we were ready to bring the baby home and we could all leave together. It was a great idea and it worked, kind of. Isabella did great while I was away, but she was definitely showing some acting out signs, so it was a bit more stressful than my romantic notions, but still incredibly priceless when she met baby "salmon" (what she called her in my belly) for the first time. I had prepped her LOTS with books (the ones by Rachel Fuller are perfect), the run down of what would happen when the baby would "pop out" and she was a pro. I hear her coming into the room "the baby popped out!" and she came and was so gentle and gave kisses and it was a beautiful, tender moment. There have been more of those kind of moments then the other since then, but the breastfeeding balance, and the fact that mommy has been banished to "bed rest" by everyone is really wearing on her. I cry a lot about it. I feel for her tender little heart that is experiencing such great change. I know that these days of adjustment will transition into our new normal, but we still have to go through it, and it's hard. It's actually the biggest adjustment for me and the most emotional part of this whole journey. I remember a friend saying that when you have two, the newborn isn't usually the problem, the older one is, and I am experiencing that.
I am excited for the days to come. My emotional core cracking with hormones is probably a good cleansing for the soul as soon life will hit a stride and there will be no time to focus on those sensitive areas of the heart. I won't be on Facebook, but look us up one of these days...the family of four: Roger, Miriam, Isabella and Adelle Miller.
