Final Midwife Appt
Published April 6, 2009 | 
I’m bummed that today’s midwife appointment was the last. I’ve really, really enjoyed working with them and it feels so weird that these women who have been such an integral part of the most amazing thing in my life are now “gone”. Georgia said we should stop by anytime we’re in the area, and although we’re pretty much never out that way, we very well might make a trip to their office some time on a boring day anyhow!
Maia’s up to 12lb 5oz and 61cm long. This puts her around the 80th percentile for weight, and 95th for length. She’s gained 24oz in the past 25 days. This means that she is growing like a weed… or a sunflower. Yeah, I think I like sunflower better.
She was fussy when Georgia first took her and laid her down to weigh and measure her, but that was expected. She calmed down as the examination continued, but by the time the baby had been checked out and I was getting examined (fucking pap smear, cold metal speculum, ughhh), Maia was happily cooing and talking to all of us. She’s so damned adorable.
Georgia asked when we’re going to be back for our second baby… haha. God help us all, I hope it’s not for a few years yet. I think Chris and I are both comfortable with the thought of having another baby arrive when Maia’s around three years old or so at the earliest.
At the end of the appointment we took a picture of Maia with Georgia. One day we can show it to her and say “this is the woman who helped us out all through the pregnancy and heard your heartbeat with us for the first time. You used to kick her microphone and once you even had hiccups while we were listening that made me laugh so hard she had to move the mic away.”
Sigh. I miss our midwives already.
The Birth Story, Part Three
Published March 31, 2009 | This won’t be a chronological retelling of what happened after the birth, but I just wanted to type out a few other random things that I don’t want to forget:
I was apparently very polite during my labour. I remember apologizing to Chris for freaking him out (“I’m sorry, I know this is scary honey”), saying “no thank you” when offered a popsicle, saying “yes please” when asked if I would like some ice chips, etc. But I did lose my cool once: during all of my contractions, Chris was saying breathe, breathe, remember to breathe, and finally after forty minutes of pushing I screamed at him, “SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!” I remember everyone laughing, and the shocked look on his face — and then I apologized for yelling at him.
My legs were trembling — from exhaustion, anxiety, and god knows what else, after Maia was born. At some point as she laid on my chest, I felt a jabbing pain in my left thigh, and yelped. The midwife had jabbed me with a needle to inject some sort of hormone (I could look it up, but I’m lazy — pitocin?) to help ensure contractions would bring out the placenta quickly, but she hadn’t given me warning that she was about to do it right then. We’d discussed beforehand that she’d do it, I just hadn’t expected it at that moment. I was kind of caught up in my baby.
I have no memory of delivering the placenta at all, but I do remember the umbilical cord stretching down my stomach and into my body. It was hot and pulsing, and unexpectedly grayish and translucent looking. Chris did not want to cut it, so once it stopped pulsing, the midwife did. I don’t think any of us even paid attention to the placenta coming out or what happened to it afterwards, so when I found it in a tupperware in the freezer the next day, well… I was pretty surprised, to say the least. Our initial plan had been to give it to our primary midwife, Georgia, who couldn’t be at the delivery, and she could take it to the hospital and burn it — but our plan has been revamped, and my mom has it in her freezer in Connecticut. When we go down to visit this summer, we are going to bury it and plant a tree over it. It will be awesome!
We all chuckled about her being born on Friday the 13th, but at one point the midwives all gasped, and one said: “She’s a very lucky girl indeed” and held up the umbilical cord. It was knotted. One good yank and my baby would have been in distress. The thought still haunts me.
I dealt with the discomfort of stretch & sweeps just fine, as well as, obviously, labour — but when, after the birth and some skin-to-skin time, Sarah took me into the bedroom to check out my tearing and see if she could stitch it, I had a hard time. She and the other midwife poked at my coochie, running their fingers along my tears to check their depth and length, which really fucking stung. I said, “Sarah, that’s REALLY uncomfortable,” and it was — like what I imagine being jabbed with searing, red-hot needles in your most sensitive, battered area would feel like.
What hurt more was when I got to the hospital to be stitched, and the doctor sprayed saline over the tears to clean them. I honestly thought I was going to jump through the ceiling and need to be sedated.
I was separated from Maia because I was at the hospital from 2:30am (she was born at 1:07) until 5am. It felt like an eternity. A midwife stayed at home with Chris and the baby until 4, but he was alone with her for the next 90 minutes. That must have been so crazy for him. As for me, I started to get pretty grouchy with my doctor and her student (the student was doing the stitching) because I really wanted to get home to my family.
That’s all I can think of, for now.
The Birth Story, Part Two
Published February 23, 2009 | So I can push. Finally. I’ve never been so happy to know that I was about to put myself through something so unfamiliar. I’d spent the last 45 minutes trying desperately not to push, although anytime that I fucked up and did, it was an awesome feeling, like this is what I am supposed to be doing. It lessened the pain.
As I felt the next contraction coming, I grabbed for Chris’ hand and Sarah started coaching me: “Push with your butt, like you’re trying to take a giant poo.” I leaned my head far back — I was so afraid I’d stop breathing if I put my head down — and screamed as I pushed. You know all those early concerns I had about the amount of noise I’d be making in labour, and whether it would inconvenience or annoy the people in my building? They were irrelevant. And apparently I didn’t make enough noise to disturb anyone, as we never heard anything about it all (in fact the landlady, who lives next door, said “wow, the hospital got Tatiana out fast, huh?” when Chris saw her Friday afternoon). Pushing felt … good. I mean, it was intense, and I felt like I was really working, but it was nice to know I was making progress.
At some point earlier in the night, Chris crushed up some ice into chips for me. As he and Sarah rushed around the apartment setting things up for the birth — and called a second midwife to come help as well — I sucked down those ice chips. I can’t imagine what it would have been like to try and force myself to drink. Chris kept asking if I wanted a popsicle but really, I didn’t want to hold anything either.
I lost track of time as the contractions continued. I’d swear they were one on top of the other, but I really don’t remember them being excessively painful — just exhausting, and uncomfortable. The second midwife, Susie, showed up. I remember her and Chris and Sarah all talking, but I was either pushing or had my eyes closed and was focusing my strength and energy inwardly. Then I remember someone asking if I minded if Susie called her student to come join us — as if I gave a damn at that point! All I wanted was to have a baby.
My timeline is a bit confused as I try to look back on it all, over a week later. I remember labouring in the living room and screaming at Chris, “WHERE THE FUCK IS YOUR MOTHER?!” since it was after midnight, and we’d called her right after the midwife, a few minutes after 11. I think both of the midwives and the student were there, telling me what a phenomenal job I was doing, when one of them said, “I can see hair!” My response: “She has hair?!” I expected a bald, Polish-looking baby. “Lots of it!” was the answer.
At some point after my mother-in-law MJ arrived (and she arrived about 30 minutes before the baby), Sarah said I should go labour on the toilet because the gravity would help the baby to come faster. I did NOT want to move, but I knew we’d make good progress with my body in that position and so, after the next contraction, she helped me into the washroom.
I sat down on the toilet. She told me to tuck my head down into my chest — I was “pushing with my face” too much — and focus all my pushing into my rump. One contraction like this and I could already feel a difference; there was something more happening here than when I was sitting up. It must have shown on my face when I looked up at her after the contraction, because she smiled and said, “Don’t worry, I won’t let you have a waterbaby on the toilet.” I was so hot, rubbing ice chips over my face and chest; Sarah grabbed some wash cloths, wet them, and laid one on my back and one on my chest to try and help me cool down. We laboured there for awhile, with me closing my eyes and rocking back and forth between contractions. There was a long period between one set of contractions where I was able, blessedly, to relax a bit more and keep myself calm. Sarah says that happens sometimes during labour and it’s basically like the mother’s body is helping the mother’s mind. I was wearing a nursing bra when we went into the washroom, but by the time we left I had torn it off and thrown it into the bath tub, leaving me completely naked.
When we walked out into the living room, I could feel the baby’s head down low. I hobbled along bow-legged, with MJ and Chris sitting on one couch, the other midwife & her student on the dog’s loveseat, with all sorts of little stations set up around the apartment (weighing the baby, oxygen if she needed, an injection of some sort for me to help deliver the placenta, etc). I remember asking Chris to straighten up my pillows behind my back after every contraction, because I wanted to be sitting up more than lying back. I wish I could remember looking at him, but I honestly don’t; maybe we didn’t make eye contact. Maybe I was too distracted and he was too scared. Someone asked if I wanted a mirror so I could watch the baby being born, but I definitely didn’t want to see it at that time (now, I kind of wish I had, but I think it’s more because I love her so damned much that I regret missing out on those few extra seconds that I could have been looking at her).
I remember women’s voices: she’s down so low, she’s ready to come out, you’re doing so amazing, we can see her hair, every time you push she comes a little closer, push long and hard this time, just one more time… I remember Chris: you’re doing amazing baby, you’re amazing…
And then this strange stretching feeling, this burning sort of achiness. It was so incredibly fucking uncomfortable, but it was NOWHERE NEAR the pain that I thought I would be experiencing. “Stop pushing,” Sarah said. “Just relax. We need you to relax and let your body stretch for her, and then you’re going to push her out when I tell you to.”
Again, my body gave me a break between the contractions, but this time I couldn’t enjoy it: “GET HER OUT GET HER OUT GET HER OUT!” I screamed. All I could imagine was a squirmy little baby face sticking out. I felt a weight down there. I wanted my baby to be out already, because I was tired of being in labour, I was tired of pushing, I was tired of not holding her. But I didn’t push, because my midwife wasn’t telling me to.
I felt a contraction coming. “Incoming,” I whispered, then started to push. I made up my mind that I was NOT going to stop until the baby came out, and I don’t even remember hearing anyone talking to me; I just remember pushing, putting every ounce of my energy and heart into bringing my baby into this world. Then this rushing sensation down low, the weight in my pelvis disappearing, and a chorus of cheering as a hot, slimy little body was laid on my chest.
The first time I saw my daughter’s face, I was in shock. I expected that I’d have an ‘ugly’ little baby, and I had steeled myself for the possibility that she would be slimy and bloody and gross, but I hadn’t prepared myself for looking at someone so damned beautiful. I wasn’t ready to be instantly enamoured of her. And apparently I immediately said, “Oh. My. God.” but I don’t remember it, I remember looking at her for what felt like forever, not knowing what to say, feeling like I should say something amazing and important, and then settling on a rather unsatisfying “Oh. My. God.” Chris was talking too, and I can’t remember what he said, but I remember him and his mom both laughing when I spoke. Maia wasn’t screaming at me. She seemed so calm, so accepting of the fact that here she was, here I was, and here we were as a family together now.
Who put the hat and the blanket on her, and when? I don’t remember. I know Chris moved off the couch and came to kneel at our side with the camera. I know he touched her hand and she gripped her fingers around him. And I know that I was — and am — so damned proud of us and our baby.
39 Weeks, Days 3 & 4
Published February 12, 2009 | After yesterday’s midwife appointment, I spent the entire evening cramping up. Like menstrual cramps, combined with OMFG THERE IS A HEAD IN MY COOCHIE, combined with feeling like I weighed a trillion pounds and my poor hips simply could not deal with it. And I had some serious spotting going on as well — not enough to call the midwife and ask what’s up (if it doesn’t soak a pantyliner over the course of three hours, it’s clearly worse in my head than in reality), but enough to annoy me. Since Maia was/is moving regularly, that also took some of the stress off me.
I was trying to force myself to keep drinking water because I need to stay hydrated, but the fact is, everytime I went to the washroom and had to put any pressure on myself to pee, my whole lower abdomen would clench up and tighten. So I didn’t WANT to drink, because I didn’t want to go pee. But I managed to down a full glass of water an hour anyhow.
I honestly can’t describe how uncomfortable I was last night. Maybe it was no more uncomfortable than a normal period without taking any pain meds, but I don’t remember that. In any case, I expect what I felt is a mild version of what I’ll be feeling. I was ravenously hungry and polished off my dinner no problem (quarter chicken, roll, big baked potato) … then spent all night wishing I’d puke it back up because I felt nauseous.
Well, as it turns out, this morning was worse. After spending 11:30-5:30am in bed, tossing and turning and waking up every hour with cramps/contractions, I finally got up and came to post here about how I was feeling. 15 minutes later, MJ woke up, so we sat down and watched TV together.
Between 5:30 and 8:30, I was getting about 4 contractions an hour. It was horrible. At one point I went into the bedroom, woke Chris up, and made him give me a hug. I didn’t want to breathe or groan my way through the pain because I didn’t want MJ to stick around thinking I was in labour — maybe that’s a stupid thing to say, since she’ll be here for the latter part of the labour & the birth anyhow, but I really want time with just Chris and I. I want to cope with the pain as it grows with just my husband and not think about anyone else. Does that sound stupid? To want my husband to be freaking out about the pain I’m in, not his mom talking me through it? I think it does, but oh well, I don’t have to be rational.
Finally at 8:30 I crashed on the couch. Chris came out and woke me up at 9. I went to bed and napped for two hours, and only woke up twice during it. I’m assuming this means I’m not having those contractions anymore since I’m pretty sure they would have woken me up, but I’ve still got some spotting going on and I still feel like there is so much pressure in my lower abdomen.
Cervix says HERE’S WHAT UP
Published February 11, 2009 | Just a quick update — I have company, can’t type tons.
Just had my midwife visit. Since Monday, my cervix has moved forward, and I’m between 3-4 cm dilated. Stretch & sweep was easy peasy.
I’m anticipating a Valentine’s Day baby now…
What up, cervix?
Published February 11, 2009 | Went to bed at 12:30am. Got out at 1:10, because I can’t fall asleep. There’s no good reason for this really — sure, the baby’s moving, but nothing more than usual — and I’m kind of annoyed. I’m trying to stock up on sleep! (This is the part where someone tells me insomnia is a sign of impending labour, right?)
Ah well. I slept horribly last night anyhow. I woke up every hour and had to roll over because whichever hip I had my weight on would be incredibly sore. Maybe it’s because Maia’s head is lower, or maybe it’s the new pillow I’m using to sandwich between my legs… or maybe it’s just being 39+ weeks pregnant!
I really want to have more symptoms that the pregnancy may be coming to an end soon. I want aches and cramps and contractions and goop. I feel so damned normal that it’s frustrating.
The fact that I’ll be done with being pregnant soon is somewhat intimidating, though. I’ve enjoyed it so much (despite the less pleasant parts!) and it’s been such a boon to my relationships — a marriage that I already knew was strong has gotten stronger, a friendship that I was letting weaken is now blossoming, family ties that I had taken for granted form my main support system, and, of course, I’ve met a bunch of amazing bloggers whose advice, thoughts, and experiences have really enriched my days. I’ll miss my big round belly. I know I’ll be ‘replacing’ it with someone wonderful, though, and I probably won’t even think about how cute my belly was when I have OMG BABY CUTENESS to cradle instead!
Oh, something important: in the past few days, a lot of visitors have come to my blog via searches for things like “how to check your cervix for dilation”. People, don’t do this to yourself. You are NOT medical professionals; it’s a horrible idea to be fucking around with your child’s passageway into this world. Your body will let you know when your cervix is ready, and if it’s not, then it’s non-urgent enough to wait for your medical caretaker to let you know how close to ready it is. Your dirty hands, regardless of how sterile you might think they or some gloves are, don’t need to be touching your cervix and definitely don’t need to be penetrating it to interfere with your uterus and the amniotic sac. Don’t be stupid.
That said… I wonder how my cervix is doing. When I wake up from whenever I go to sleep, I’m supposed to page Georgia and arrange for her to come over today. My house smells like dog piss and it’s driving me nuts. They must have gone in the house somewhere this afternoon, but I don’t know where so I can’t clean it up properly. I hate this.
Also, tomorrow my MIL should be showing up again and I think we’ll be assembling the bassinet and Ikea shelfing unit, as well as putting down that (impossibly ugly but maybe cute?) rug in the nursery, so perhaps I will have new pictures to share!
No stretchin’, no sweepin’
Published February 9, 2009 | At this afternoon’s appointment, my midwife determined that Maia’s head had dropped a bit more — she’s now at +1, 1 cm above my pelvic spines, as opposed to last week’s +2, so this is good — but, with that and the fact that she’s switched which side her back is on and repositioned means that my cervix is now too far back to be examined properly. Sigh. Georgia was really disappointed that her fingers were “just too short” to check me out, but she’s going to come and do a home visit during the week to re-evaluate my status.
Something really touching that happened was Georgia saying “I kept waiting for you to page me all week! Every time I looked down at my pager I expected to see your name pop up.” It’s this woman’s job to help pregnant women, and she’s brought many babies into the world in the years… yet she is still excited for Chris and I. I wager she’s excited for all of her patients. It is a really cool feeling to know that your medical partner is happy and eager to help.
Spicy food has done nothing to give me stomach cramps (I can’t believe I’m trying to give myself indigestion)… I guess I’m too damned strong for it. Georgia suggested that we try fresh pineapple as well, so we picked up one of those on the way home (peeled and cored already… I’ve never cut a pineapple myself and I don’t plan to dull my knives on one while pregnant!) She said a lot of women try castor oil — we’ve heard some horror stories about it — but that it’s “brutal” and she doesn’t suggest it. I mean hell, I’m not really desperate, so I don’t mind going easy on any rumoured labour starters. Sunday’s my due date. Again, she said it’ll probably be this weekend, but now I feel like “this weekend” is a carrot and I’m a horse!
But as we left the office, she grinned at me and said: “Cherish the time you two have now… and try to get extra rest… you need to be well-rested for your upcoming labour!”
Week 37 Midwife Appt
Published January 30, 2009 | I subscribe to the GraphJam RSS feed, and yesterday this little Venn diagram popped up. It made me smile, so I thought I’d share:
Haha! I’m sure we’ve all felt this way one time or another… I’m particularly fond of “to never take off my pajamas”.
Yesterday I had my week 37 midwife appointment — technically, 37 weeks and 4 days. I can’t believe how soon our Maia will be here. I can literally count the time until my due date on my fingers and toes (even if you give me crap about how thumbs aren’t fingers!) And seriously, January’s almost over already. When the fuck did that happen?
Anyhow, Maia’s head is very low in my pelvis, which is great, although it’s still “slightly” free which means it’s not as low as it will get. She’s in the right position for birth at the moment as well, and we got a good laugh out of my midwife doing a little “demonstration” of how twisty a baby is when she comes out of the vagina (the midwife did this like… snake neck thing with her shoulders really low, then kind of twisted around to be face-up with big bright eyes and was like “AND THEN SHE SAYS HI TO ME!”) Maia’s heartbeat sounds fine and I still have trace protein in my urine. I’ve also gained more weight (sigh) and am closing in on 40 lbs added. In all honesty I don’t particularly care about how much weight I gain during the pregnancy unless it becomes a health issue, I just dread the thought of counting the pounds afterwards because I just know I’ll be worrying about them along with everything else that’ll be on my mind, and I hate that thought.
I felt as if breathing was a bit difficult last night, as if I were constantly labouring to breathe. I’m wondering if this was psychological and I just felt this way because Chris mentioned something about how heavily I was breathing in the car last night. I certainly don’t feel short of breath, but my nose is pretty stuffy and I am thirstier than usual. Chris says I’m not panting like a dog anymore, so that’s reassuring at least.
Yesterday was a really productive day. We were out of the house ‘early’ (hey, 10am is early!) to head to an office to get my Social Insurance Number (the Canadian equivalent of a Social Security Number), and it’s the first official piece of documentation I have with my MARRIED name on it which is awesome. Due to going through the permanent residency process, I never bothered putting my married name on documentation because I figured that a name change halfway through the paperwork would be too much trouble, and since every piece of identification I had used my maiden name, I decided to keep things ‘simple’ for us. But it’s been bugging the shit out of me to think of having my maiden name on my baby’s birth certificate, so I’m in a mad rush to get whatever documentation I can changed over to my married name. I’m pretty sure my midwife will put my married name on the birth certificate so long as I don’t have to go to the hospital. I guess I should talk to her about that.
We also finally put my name on the bank account (it’s been on the checks all along). We couldn’t do it beforehand because I had nothing “official” to prove my Canadian address, and now with my Permanent Resident card I do. So that’s nice. And I finally have an ATM card — I haven’t really cared about one since we’ve had a shared Visa account for years now, but it’s still nice. After doing this we went across the street to this cute little sushi place where they had a bento box lunch special — $6.99 for chicken teriyaki, a salad, and three cucumber rolls. I thought there was too much of the sweet teriyaki sauce which meant that halfway through I felt like I was eating a lollipop and not rice & protein, but it was altogether really tasty and I would go back again (and get the sauce on the side).
Our friends from Vancouver are out here this week and we were able to visit with them and their 18 month old after lunch. We were supposed to go see them on Wednesday but the weather was just too nasty to justify leaving the house and driving the 45 minutes to the place they’re staying with family. Their son is adorable — all smiles and giggles — and pretty well-behaved, as in he didn’t HAVE to be the center of attention and he amused himself with his toys and books. I really wish they still lived out here or even that we lived out there. They’ve been friends with Chris for something like 20 years now and they’re really the friends of his that I immediately felt comfortable and compatible with.
After seeing them, we went out to dinner with a friend that moved to that town the same weekend we moved out, someone that I hadn’t seen since November. I almost ordered the “country fried chicken” since it’s not something I EVER see on menus up here, but the thought of vinegary fries and lemony, salty, beer-battered fish won me over (I think my vinegar/sour taste buds are my most demanding!) and I ended up going for good ol’ fish & chips.
The waitress thought I was totally adorable and fawned over my big belly… it felt nice. In fact, I find that most women are like that — they are just enamoured by baby belly, and so sweet and complimentary towards me that it makes me blush. Chris and I laugh about it, and I try to keep in mind that once the baby is actually here, and starts crying out in public, the same people who thought my bump was “so cute” will probably be thinking “SHUT THAT DEMON CHILD UP ALREADY!” So I’m enjoying this while it lasts.
Related, my mom has been bugging me to get a belly pic and since I haven’t in weeks (I have been so distracted!), that’s next on my list of things to get done! Soon!
And another one of my bloggy friends has welcomed her new arrival — arrivals, in this case! Wiser Mom brought twin boys Doot & Bing into the world on January 22nd. I’ve been following her blog for months now and it’s really awesome to see a picture of those boys I’ve been reading so much about. Drop by, see for yourself, and congratulate her!
Week 35 Midwife Appt
Published January 15, 2009 | During my pregnancy, I have put on approximately 40 pounds. This is about 10-15 lbs more than I hoped, although I’m not terribly concerned; I figure if I’d kept up the gym routine rather than dropping it sometime around November (whoops!) I’d be closer to my ‘ideal’ number. Again, honestly, I don’t really care about the weight I put on so long as my baby comes out healthy and at a normal size, but it’s obviously on my mind nonetheless.
I had a midwife appointment yesterday, and when I weighed myself I showed as 6 lbs heavier than two weeks ago. Thinking this had to be a mistake, I went and peed (trace protein in my urine, which has happened at about 75% of my appointments but isn’t a cause for concern unless accompanied by some other symptoms) — as if peeing is going to make me shed a few pounds? Weighed myself after — still 6 extra lbs. I know Maia didn’t grow that damned much, so I’m going to blame the fact that I’ve been eating Gardetto’s like they’re going out of style. My mom sent me a case of twelve bags for my birthday, which is one of the best birthday presents ever, but I’m not doing very good at portioning them.
Anyhow, we met with Sarah today. She always says I have a “neat” bump, which makes me smile. When she was checking Maia’s position, though, she slid her hands around and said, “I think she’s kinda curled around with her back close to yours” — then somehow STUCK HER HANDS INTO MY STOMACH AND TOUCHED MY SPINE. I mean, I didn’t see how she did it, but since it felt like that’s what she did, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Then Maia flopped around as if just as disturbed as her mother, and continued flopping as Sarah tried to take her heartbeat. I’m pretty sure this little girl has more attitude than her mommy and daddy combined already…
Then we learned about all the fun gynecological exams I’ve got coming up. No, really. Within my next appointment or two, I get to do vaginal and anal swabs of myself to see if I’m a carrier of some sort of bowel bacteria that is entirely harmless to adults (40% of women carry it, and the bacteria comes and goes so that’s why they check at the end of pregnancy rather than earlier) but can, if spread to the baby during the birth process, cause her to get sick. Inconvenient type sick, not deadly type sick. If I do carry it, I’ll be prescribed some anti-biotics to prevent that from happening. But seriously, I get to swab my own butt. That’s pretty special, and by “special” I mean “I deserve some hot chocolate afterwards”.
There’s also something they call a “stretch and sweep” (aka a membrane sweep), which they routinely perform from 38 weeks onwards. Sarah says it is not effective at inducing labour in and of itself unless your body is READY to give birth. I feel like I need to ask more questions because I can’t remember why she said they do it, I just accepted it as part of their normal routine. Also, I mean, it’s kinda cringe-worthy to think about how much a pap smear pisses me off and makes me uncomfortable for days, and I’m going to be welcoming someone’s goddamned FINGER caressing my cervix? Sarah was giggling about how sometimes the cervix can be hard to find before the woman enters labour, because of how it is shaped and the position of the baby’s head, and I have to admit that the thought of lying there spread-eagled with a midwife’s fingers in my coochie trying to squiggle around the back of my baby’s head just to poke my cervix actually made me laugh. I swear there’s something wrong with me. Maybe it was the look on Chris’ face that was so hilarious.
After this appointment, we headed over to the hospital to register in their maternity ward. We did let them know we’re planning a homebirth and that my OHIP doesn’t kick in until March 16th, but just in case we have to head to that hospital they’ve got all my relevant information about allergies / preferences / medical history and whatnot. Something I found interesting is that for a “visitor” to the country, a hospital stay — not including any doctor’s fees, and who knew that a doctor charges separately from the hospital charge? — is $2500 a day. For an “uninsured resident” (me), it’s $900 a day. I just thought that it was really interesting (and cool) that, even though there’s only a 90 day window in which a resident is uninsured, there’s a special billing classification for us.
In other, semi-related news, I slept on the couch last night and slept through the entire night. This is as opposed to sleeping in bed, where I wake up at least three times (and pee). I really hate not sleeping next to my husband, but if crashing on the couch where my back is better supported (and I get lots of puppy love!) ends up helping me sleep through the night, I’m not going to argue with it.
My father-in-law is visiting today. I don’t know what time and I don’t know if I’m cooking for us or if we’ll be going out to eat or what. He is so much like Chris though — they’re both so laid-back about making plans, late anywhere they go, and not very organized at home — that I’m not terribly worried about either impressing or disappointing him. Our apartment isn’t spotless? Big deal, neither is his.
Chris mentioned today that he feels weird about being the only man at the birth (two midwives, my mom, his mom should all be there with us) and was like “I should invite my dad or brother to come.” I’m pretty sure he was joking, but just to be sure, I let him know in no uncertain terms that such a thing is not happening. I love his dad and brother, but seriously, I don’t think that welcoming them into my labour and delivery is a step in our relationship that needs to be taken. He was smirking the whole time though, so I’m pretty sure he’s aware of that.
Today is one month til my due date! It’s crazy how the time has flown by.
Home Birth Night
Published January 6, 2009 | Last night, after quickly eating a slice of cake apiece, we headed out to the midwives office to learn more about home birth. Now, I’ve been dreading this. Seriously. I couldn’t think of many more unpleasant, non-life-threatening ways to spend the evening of my birthday than going to this.
We were the first couple to show up, which is surprising in and of itself since Chris is one of those people who is eternally “fashionably” late. My secondary midwife, Sarah the English chick, was one of the teachers tonight, so I was really happy to see a familiar face. We settled down next to the water cooler, since I’m thirsty like all the time these days, and waited on everyone else.
The next three women to enter the room were all wearing purple shirts — SO WAS I! Seriously, did someone send out a memo to all the pregnant chicks to show up in that colour? It made me laugh, and then I had to explain to Chris why I was laughing, and then I felt like a total moron. But I mean really, that’s pretty funny, that we all show up in purple shirts.
When everyone (four couples, two midwives, a student midwife, and a guest speaker with her four week old) arrived, we all introduced ourselves — giving our names, due dates, and reasons for being here tonight — standard stuff. Then the meeting took off.
I was surprised — and happy — at how laid-back everything was. The midwives really engaged all of the couples in the very open-ended discussion, letting us lead with our questions and filling in any awkward silences with anecdotes about home births they had attended. They quoted studies done within the last two years in Ontario that determined that for a mother, a homebirth runs less risk of infection and intervention, as well as a faster recovery rate than a hospital birth, although for a baby there is no difference whatsoever between the two. They showed us the equipment that we will be provided upon saying we want a homebirth, and also the equipment that they will bring to our household — this really amazed me. Mini oxygen machines, materials for suturing and IV, a package of sterilized clamps and scissors for handling the umbilical cord, injections of Vitamin K, eyedrops, etc, everything that you would expect to find in a normal, low-risk hospital birthing room, the midwives bring along in a portable format. And they offer options for pain relief, like sterile water injections, that a hospital might just forego in favour of an epidural.
We discussed everything: the “mess” of giving birth and how to handle the placenta (they suggested freezing it and then planting it in your backyard in the spring, wtf?); the size of a 10cm dilated cervix (and let me point out that 10cm diameter is frighteningly huge); how your pets may react to you giving birth at home (curious and very aware, inordinately interested in the fluids etc, often agressive towards the midwife); giving birth in an apartment building (you may want to tell your neighbours, but really, you’re probably not going to make so much noise that they’ll be banging on the door or calling the police); what qualifies you for a homebirth (good health, normal pregnancy, single head-down baby); when a midwife will transfer your primary care to a hospital (any emergency situation, which they can normally tell is coming by the monitoring they do); the length of active labour and how your midwife determines that you’ve entered that stage (generally 6-12 hours, and when your contractions are 4 minutes apart from the beginning of one to the beginning of the next, at least 1 minute long, for at least 1 hour — “the 411″ as one of them called it); and so, so much more. By the end of it, I didn’t have a single question left.
But I had made a decision. And so had Chris.
We are absolutely fine with a homebirth. In fact, we’d prefer it at this point. The way I envision my labour and delivery going, I can’t imagine that the confines and controlling atmosphere of a hospital will be any good for me. I would rather be at home, in my environment, with my support team around me. I don’t want to pick and choose who gets to come into the delivery room with me at the hospital; I want my husband, my mother, and my mother-in-law all to be able to be with me, not to have to relegate one of them to another room. I don’t feel like a hospital offers any significant advantage to me at this point, and when I enter the active stage of labour, it seems to me that having my midwife come to my home rather than having to leave here and meet up with her at the hospital will be much more convenient. I’m really happy that we went to the homebirth night.
So, barring the unforseen, Maia will be born here…. probably in this very room. I can’t wait!