366 days ago i spent the last night alone with my baby

A year ago today I was on the eve of my due date. My parents had flown in from overseas. My best mate was here, armed with the camera and snacks and lots of encouragement. And my husband and I were packed and ready to go.

It was a hot and humid day with sporadic rain showers. Emma and I swam and walked back and forth across the length of the near-by pool while my parents looked on from underneath the shelter and Ryan worked nervously at the office, waiting for a call at any time.

Baby was engaged.

Mama was feeling brave, excited, and at peace.

We were ready to go.

That night I went to bed with excitement, thinking (perhaps hoping) that I'd go into labor that night.

Then, around 2:00am--just hours after Levi's official due date began--my waters broke and the contractions started hard and strong.

I was going to have a baby. My life was about to be turned upside-down.

It wasn't until twelve hours later that I went to the birthing centre. By that time my contractions were consistently three minutes apart and we decided it was time to be in the care of our dear midwife.

Soon after arriving I had an internal examination (well, several of them actually), and then four or five different ultrasounds), only to find out that Levi was breech.

It was against hospital policy to birth breech babies in the birthing centre so I was transferred to the maternity ward and robed up for an unplanned c-section.

Although it wasn't the natural water birth I had desired, I was glad that I was already in labor and things were progressing smoothly. Baby wasn't in distress and neither was I. My body went into labor naturally, so I knew we were both ready. And my contractions were hard and strong and fast... but not so fast that they had to rush me through with urgency.

I can't say that lying in an operating surgery and having someone cut you open to deliver your baby is ideal. I felt passive. I felt a little bit ripped off. I felt an element of sadness.

But mostly I felt relieved. And I felt glad.

I was so fortunate to have my child in a nation where the health care is amazing. Where doctors and nurses and my midwife took incredible care of me. The fact that my child was able to be delivered safely by cesarean was a great comfort, even despite the whirlwind of emotions.

I also felt excitement. I knew that in moments I would be meeting my beautiful boy for the first time.

If I could turn back the clock I would have requested a late term ultra-sound. I'll never know if we would have been able to turn the baby if we'd caught it in time.

If I could turn back time to 5:46pm on Friday, January 26, 2010 I would have insisted that I got to hold Levi straight away while still on the operating table... rather than an hour and fifteen minutes later after they had sewn me up and done God-knows-what-else in the meantime.

But I can't. And I've made peace with that.

Because when you are at peace, you are free to be grateful.

And grateful I am.

I refuse to let these things define the most life-changing moment of my existence. And I am grateful--beyond grateful--that I could even give birth at all.

I still cry when I hear stories of other mothers having their babies placed on their chest moments after that last push. I cry for what I wasn't able to experience. I cry for my lost hour and fifteen minutes.

And yet my tears are small compared to the tears of so many mothers... and so many would-be, wanna-be mothers. So many mothers that didn't even get an hour and fifteen minutes with their babies.

I was warned that a child's first birthday is an emotional time for moms... And here I am, the day before Levi's birthday and I'm an absolute hurricane of emotions. I believe it's possible to be warned and caught off guard at the same time.

So what do I do? I finalize party plans. I wrap presents. I bake cupcakes. I imagine photos I want to capture on Levi's big day. I think about how my husband and I want to celebrate our own milestone along with Levi's. I pray. I give thanks. I write a lovesong for my boy. I look back through hundreds of photos and video clips and bawl my eyes out. Not because my baby is growing--I'm glad he's growing and developing and progressing--but because life is short and I'm thinking I want to squeeze it a little bit more.

I've tried to relish, enjoy, savor, record, and live in the moment as much as I was able this last year. I wish I had done that more. There will always be more. But I also realize that I did my best. I gave it my all. I could not have done better.

In twenty-four hours time I will commemorate that moment... the moment I shared my first-born with the world:

5:46pm, Friday, January 29, 2010.

just arrived at the birthing centre after 12 hours of labor at home...
receiving the news that levi is breech.

this is me with my brave face while being prepared for the operating theatre.
although i was a little teary and disappointed, i was genuinely at peace... and very excited.

{first look}
he was the most beautiful thing i had ever beheld.

{first touch}
my heart still aches a little looking at this photo.
if a hand could convey longing, love...
i'm grateful at least, that ryan got to hold him straight away.

{first hold}
at last he was mine. my heart exploded a thousand times as he nursed and nuzzled. it was magic.

{first hold}
beaming with pride and joy as i looked at my husband
and midwife with levi snuggled up to my chest.

being wheeled into the maternity ward to introduce levi to my parents and emma.

emma, my mom, and my dad were all there from the beginning until the end....
they were so happy to welcome our miracle when we finally came out from surgery.
although plans changed, we couldn't have shared this time with anyone more special.

my precious angel just hours old. the most beautiful and perfect newborn i've ever seen.

although i was dog tired, i didn't want to go to bed that night. i didn't want it to end.

our extremely happy family - healthy and head-over-heels in love.

room 50. our room 50. i'm so glad for this place.

Dear friends, I didn't really mean for this to turn into a birth story, but I suppose in a sense it's turned into a version of one... minus the detail. Writing about it again now, a year later, is comforting... almost therapeutic. I have so much to remember, so much to celebrate. I knew I'd be a mushy mess this week, but I'm surprised at how I'm enjoying the mush. It's all part of the process, isn't it? It's all part of the process of growing, moving on, moving forward...

turning the page,


P.S. Thank you if you read my post yesterday and prayed for Levi to get well. He's doing sooo much better today and we should be in the clear for his party tomorrow!! *bigsighofrelief*

on saturday...

adriel booker | the mommyhood memos | 2010 
do not reproduce without written permission

dear natural birth club

the face of a proud mama (even if i was kicked out of your club)

Dear Natural Birth Club,

You know, I thought I would have easy access into your club. I was the no-interventions-thank-you, diving-in-the-birth-pool, I-am-mama-watch-me-push sort of woman.

Not that I think pushing makes me more of a woman. (But is that what you think? Cuz sometimes you make other mamas feel that way.)

But you gotta understand, my son had other plans for our special day; he had some ideas of his own about how to spend his birthday.

Apparently no matter how empowered and ready this mama felt, baby boy just wasn’t keen for a squeeze through that tunnel. 

My boy is a strong lad. You know the type… the kind that wants to set himself apart from the crowd, the kind that’s got a mind of his own, the kind that’s—perhaps—a little bit like his mama.

And by that I mean breech of course… just like you-know-who way back in the late 70's.

Let me remind you - I wanted to join in your club. I had every intention of acquiring membership.

But intentions weren't enough.

My husband and midwife and I had grand plans. Hubs came dressed in his boardies, I came with the perfect playlist prepared… and baby boy blue came upside-down. (Or, uh, right-side-up?)

I might have made it into your club had I gotten a late term ultrasound… but let me remind you that out of the hundreds of babies my dear midwife has delivered (bless her precious heart) I was her one mistake (and her partner’s mistake, and about four other midwives who also checked me along the way). All of those sweet souls felt my boy’s head just where it belonged – engaged and read to go.

Except for the fact that it wasn’t.

{My boy had one bony bum… enough to fool ‘em all I guess.}

The reality is, some mistakes have a whole lot of implications. And you can’t very well turn a baby when mama’s already twelve hours into labor, now can you?

So really, doesn’t it count that I wanted to be “one of you”? Doesn’t it count that I thought like you and practiced like you and dreamed like you… for nine long months and twelve long hours?

Or does the fact that I now have a big old beautiful scar on my belly forever exclude me from your club?

Will I always be an outsider because I didn’t push?

Yes, Natural Birth Club, you’re incredibly exclusive. And maybe you don’t intend to be, but you’ve gotta know… that sometimes in your enthusiasm you make those of us who never quite made the cut feel a little bit… left out. Or even worse, lessor.

Disagree with me if you want, but I’m of the opinion that sometimes you can be a little bit snarky, a little bit snobbish, a little bit exclusive. Please don’t act all superior just because your birth plan went according to… plan. 

But let me give you the benefit of the doubt. You probably don't even mean to do it - you're most likely just trying to advocate for women to know their options... But in your zeal please remember us wanna-be's... and even those who deliberately choose otherwise. We all have our reasons.

{I’m tough too, you know. You try recovering from major surgery, constantly suppressing laughter—oooouch—at your husband’s unceasing dad jokes, and caring for a newborn all at once.}

So really Natural Birth Club, you and I – we aren’t all that different. We both wanted what’s best for our babies and what’s best for ourselves. It’s just that my road there (to happy baby-on-the-outside land) had a bend in it that yours didn’t.

I’m just sayin.

Be nice. Give me a hug. Let’s be friends. We've got more in common than you think.

Sincerely,
an initially-disappointed-yet-extremely-grateful-and-proud
mama who sometimes feels just a little left out

p.s. I formed a new club: The Mamas Who Gave Birth Club. It’s a little more all-inclusive… and you’re absolutely welcome to join if you wish. No membership dues or initiation stunts required.

Have you registered your blog here yet?

adriel booker | the mommyhood memos | 2010 
do not reproduce without written permission

my midwife's better than your midwife

When I first got pregnant, I didn't know much about different models of pre-natal care and delivery options. Like many first-time-mommies, I dove into books like What to Expect When You're Expecting (the "pregnancy bible") and signed up for a couple of different websites to give me weekly updates on bub's development.

And then I met Jeannine Bradow who would turn out to be my midwife.

Jeannine ("Nean") walked me through all the changes of my growing belly and body and baby until that 40-week mark, then helped deliver my precious son, and then looked after us with weekly home visits for the first 6 weeks of Levi's life.

Not only did she teach me so much about being a mother and carrying a baby, but she also helped educate me on the birthing process. Being equipped like that (knowledge = power!) went a long way toward distilling any fears or negative preconceived ideas that I had in my attitude toward the actual event of childbirth.

Now Nean is not only "my midwife" as I like to call her, but she is also my friend. I just want to sing her praises and brag about her a little because, well, she deserves it! She's a champion of mothers and a lover of babies. She helps to bring a sense of empowerment to women during this most monumental time of womanhood: the birth of her child.

Nean just won the award for Townsville's Midwife of the Year. I'm so proud of her and I can't think of any one more well-deserving.

Hooray for Nean! x

my unplanned c-section

Birth is such a personal ordeal - a huge milestone in a woman's life.

I had an unplanned C-Section. My little monkey was an undetected breech baby! The procedure itself went smoothly and I ended up with a beautiful baby boy in my arms so I couldn't complain. It wasn't the natural water birth in the Birthing Centre with my midwife that I was gunning for, but it was wonderful and happy nonetheless.

When I was told (12 hours into labour) that I'd need to be transfered upstairs to the hospital to be prepped for surgery, I was feeling let down but not devastated. Although I had a few tears of disappointment, I had been prepared for the unexpected and was just so thankful that I would be meeting our boy soon.

The delivery went well and soon I was enjoying my baby on the outside. It took a few days to process the fact that I'd have more limited mobility during my recovery than I expected (a set-back for this on-the-go woman!) and that was a bummer. BUT... I thought to myself,  "there's always next time." I'd fallen in love with our Birthing Centre and my midwife so much, the idea of going through the hospital was not appealing and I still wanted to try and have the natural birth experience I'd hoped for.

Let me explain a little. In Australia we have a wonderful health care system, which takes care of our babies (and mommies). Generally you get this care through the public hospitals (or if you are lucky, like me, you could get accepted into the local Birthing Centre). Although the hospitals provide very good care, it does mean that you see whoever is on call the day you go in for your pre-natal visits, and the same goes for whoever delivers your baby. (There is also a much higher rate of interventions.) 

When you go through the Birthing Centre, however, you are assigned a midwife who looks after you during your prenatal visits, delivers the baby for you, and then does six weeks of post-natal home visits to check on both you and bubs. It's such a fantastic model of care! After having experienced that I would never want to turn back!

So like I said, though I was disappointed at being wheeled out of the Birthing Centre and upstairs to the operating theatre, I also had hopes of trying again next time to have the birth I'd imagined. That is, until I found out that our local hospital policy states that any woman with a previous C-Section is now considered "high risk" and is therefore disqualified from the Birthing Centre.

To say I was disappointed to discover this is an vast understatement! I think I was more upset hearing this news than I was at the original news of needing to be transferred on the day of Levi's birth. (At least on his birthday I had a baby to look forward to meeting!)

Anyhow, I know the dust will settle and this will just seem like a minor glitch in the road, but for now I'm still processing my emotions related to future births. I'm glad for the doctors and nurses and midwives that are committed to me and that they have my best interest in mind. But still, it's hard.

happy day of your birth (a letter to levi)

This is the story of how you were born. Now, you’re a boy… and boys don’t normally care—or want to know—about all the details of birth. But I will try to tell enough so that your future wife can have the details that she’ll want. (Joke, sweetie.) And just look at how precious you are at five hours old... Certainly the most beautiful being that I've ever laid eyes on. 

 

It was 2:30am the morning of your due date when my water broke and labor began. When daddy and I went to sleep the night before, we really did hope that you’d be making your entrance that day… but all expecting parents eagerly look to their baby’s due day with that hope and desire!

As soon as my water broke I immediately started contractions. Throughout the rest of the night (or should I say early morning?!) I continued to have contractions. But they were still 5-7 minutes apart and I needed as much rest as possible for the day ahead so I stayed in bed and tried to sleep.

Daddy helped me with hot packs for the pain and applying pressure to my lower back through the contractions... Except when he was busy falling asleep! J

I snoozed on and off until morning time, but didn’t really get much sleep considering it’s hard to sleep through contractions and I was so excited knowing I’d get to meet you sometime that day.

We spoke with our midwife, Jeannine, and told her that today was going to be your birthday. She gave us suggestions and ideas about how to make sure that labor kept moving along and progressing.

Throughout the morning my contractions would slow to over 10 minutes apart and then speed up again to 4 minutes apart. It was a bit all over the place. We used some essential oils that Nean said would help bring on labor and also some reflexology, applying pressure on different points in my hands and feet which is also supposed to help.

It was raining hard that day (in the middle of rainy season) and our house was full with daddy and I, Gigi and Gramps visiting from America, and Auntie Emma. I tried to watch episodes of “So You Think You Can Dance” to keep me occupied while I waited for labor to progress, but that didn’t last long since I found it hard to follow along through the contractions in addition to my endless trips to pee.

I spent some time outside doing the “curb walk” with Emma holding an umbrella and also did a few sets of stairs. I was still contracting, but just as quickly as they would increase in frequency and duration, they would quickly decrease again.

At Nean’s suggestion I used the breast pump to see if that would speed things up at all, and sure enough as soon as I turned on the power, that little machine sent me having stronger contractions than ever. Half an hour later we were headed to the hospital.

We arrived around 2:00pm in the afternoon. As soon as we got there I went into the birth room so that Nean could do an internal and determine how far I was dilated and where we were up to. During her examination her face started to look concerned… and then she told us that she thought she “felt a crack.”

This confused us as we wondered how there could be a crack in your head! But then we realized she meant a bum crack. She wasn’t feeling your head, she was feeling your bum. You were breech.

This started a series of other midwives coming in to examine me as well as the sonographer who confirmed that you were in fact breech. They told me that I’d no longer be able to birth you in the birthing centre – the natural water birth that I’d hoped for was no longer possible – and that I’d instead need to be wheeled up to the operating theatre to have a birth by caesarean.

I was disappointed to hear this (especially after already being in labor for 13 or 14 hours), and disappointed that we had not found out sooner so that we could have tried to get you turned around in time for D-Day. There were a few tears.

But, I was also glad that you were healthy and in no distress, and I was just so excited to know that I’d be meeting you soon.

It took some time to be prepped for the surgery, and they weren’t in a great rush since neither you or I were distressed. It was 5:00pm by the time I was getting the spinal. I remember looking at the clock as I lay on the operating table and it was 5:15pm.

Daddy was with me, holding my hand, and I was trying the best I could to watch the doctors through the reflection on a small panel on the ceiling. It’s not designed for people to watch – I suppose they don’t want you freaking out or fainting by the sight of it all – but I was glad that the light was hitting just right and gave me a tiny window to sneak a peek and watch your entrance into the world.

And then, at 5:46pm on January 29, 2010 you were born!

The doctors gave you to daddy to hold and I got to touch your face and look at you – the most beautiful of sights – before they took you to weigh and measure you and make sure everything was alright.

Jeannine and daddy took you to an adjoining examining area to check you out and record all your specs while the doctors sewed me back up. (Sewing me up took longer than the actual delivery itself.) I missed you like crazy during those long moments as I lay still on the operating table, and I longed for that moment when I could finally hold you myself with daddy back at my side.

When they were through I was wheeled into the recovery room and waited for you to finally be placed in my arms. It was such a precious moment as I held you for the first time and put you to my breast. You easily found your way to me and attached yourself like you had always known that this was the way it should be.

Daddy later told me there was some loud noise/alarm going off in the adjacent room but I didn’t hear a thing. All I could see was you, and everything else faded into the background. It was a very happy birthday for you my dear Levi Scott Booker. 

I don’t know how long we were there in the recovery room, but eventually they wheeled us to the maternity ward where I ended up staying for the next 5 days.

It was hard not being able to go home as soon as I had anticipated, especially since daddy was not able to stay overnight in the ward with us, but I had to stay longer because I developed a couple of fevers (which in the end turned out to be nothing serious).

As difficult as it was so stay there in the hospital, I know it was for the best. It forced me to take it easy and let others take care of me during those early days, which of course was good for all of us. The hospital staff took good care of me, and daddy and Gigi and Gramps spent most of the days with us. We also had a steady stream of friends visiting, which was so much fun. Finally introducing you to the world was such a joy!

Although your birth didn’t go as we had planned, it was still wonderful and special and so, so good.

You are such a gift to us, and we will forever be grateful for—and celebrate—the day of your birth!

Loving you so much it aches,

momma xx


p.s. These photos of you are from when you were less than 5 hours old... being held in the strong arms of an extremely proud Gramps. Oh, so very precious.