Xander's Birth Story: Unplanned

My oldest turned 3 last weekend. Every day he grows further from being a toddler and more into an adventurous, sweet little boy. I thought I'd share his birth story. I never thought to write it down when he was born. This past winter, I wrote out the bare bones of it, and the week leading up and following his birthday, I sat down and reflected on it deeper. It was fun and a bit emotional going back and recalling all the events, emotions, and choices of that day and I'm excited to share it with you.


We were all set. The due date was approaching and the doctor assured us baby's head was down. She was positive I'd have the baby before my due date while she was on holidays. We had made it and all that was left to do was wait.

As I crawled into bed the night of July 28th, I experienced a couple light contractions. My mother-in-law joked that I wasn't allowed to go into labour while she was watching a performance of the Lion King. I assured her I didn't think it would happen that night. I settled into bed figuring real labour would keep me awake and if it wasn't labour, I'd be able to sleep. I slept very well that night.

The next morning, as my husband was getting ready for work, I experienced a contraction. He came and kissed me goodbye and I nearly told him labour was starting and he should keep his phone near, but I kept silent and let him go without any indication. There was no point worrying him if it wasn't labour. And if it was, he probably had time to work the full day. After all, I was a first time mom and it wouldn't be that fast.

Shortly after he left for work, another contraction came. The contractions had been ten minutes apart. I got up to go to the bathroom twice, and my bowels cleared out completely. I read after that could be common before labour begins. Another ten minutes and another contraction as I was crawling back in bed. There was a popping sensation and wetness on my legs. I knew it couldn't be urine as I'd just come from the bathroom. Fluid leaked every time I moved. I placed a towel on the bed and sat contemplating what to do next.

It was 8 o'clock. Curtis would have just made it to work. The doctor had said to go to the hospital if my waters broke, but the contractions weren't that close together. After a couple minutes, I decided to call Curtis and see what he thought we should do. I tried his phone three times, each time with no answer. It was rare for him to be without his phone. In between calling him, I text my mom, needing someone to know what was going on, but not sure who to contact. She offered to come if I couldn't reach Curtis.

I tried his number one last time, mentally preparing to call his boss or coworker should he not answer. Even in labour, my introversion kicked in and I dreaded having to call someone who wasn't family or a close friend. To my relief, he answered. Apparently he had left his phone in the hanger and gone to the breakroom for coffee. A pilot had been walking by and said "someone's phone is going off like crazy".

Anyway, I told him my waters had broke. Should he come home? I didn't know. Were the contractions bad? They definitely weren't pleasant. They were still ten minutes apart, but felt a bit more intense. We finally concluded it was best for him to come home.

He got home fifteen minutes later and showered quickly while I ate a bowl of cereal. I tried to put on a clean pair of underwear and pad so as not to leak everywhere, but the underwear was much too small. To my embarrassment, I had to wear a Depends my sister-in-law had given to me after her birth. Now, after two more births, I wouldn't dream of being without Depends!

We arrived at the hospital just after 9 o'clock a.m. I gave my information and papers to the triage nurse and was given a bed in assessment. In my ignorance, I thought that was where I'd give birth. Right there, with only a curtain separating me from the next labouring mother. It worried me a bit. The nurses confirmed that my membranes had indeed ruptured and I was 3-4 centimeters dilated. We were admitted and a couple hours later, were comfortably situated in our own room.

My mother-in-law arrived around 11:30 a.m. with lunch for my husband and a smoothie for me. The nurses encouraged me to get up and walk the halls to help move labour along. I absolutely hated walking while contracting. Each contraction I had, I would crouch down to the floor moaning. I remember crouching and holding onto Curtis' leg at one point. We returned to our room after a bit where I laid down and continued to moan through contractions. The nurse reminded me to breath, otherwise I wouldn't make it through without taking something for the pain.We used the shower a couple times and te heat felt amazing on my back. It was the only coping method that helped.

Around 2 p.m., the nurse came in with some news. The last time she had checked my progress, it had felt like baby was breech, that baby was coming butt first, instead of head down. The doctor wanted to do an ultrasound to confirm.

At that point, I only half believed her. My doctor had said she was 99.9% sure baby was head down. She couldn't have been that wrong. Baby had been in the same position for weeks. Even if baby was breech, it wasn't a big deal. Right?

The techs came in to do the scan. It was an easy check. They scanned my lower abdomen and sure enough, there it was. Breech. Our baby was breech. The techs went to inform the doctor and we were left to process the new development in the birth of our baby.

The doctor came in with the anesthetist.  A breech baby changed things. Baby would need constant monitoring. A c-section was presented as the "only" option and if that were the case I'd need to deciced whether I wanted a spinal tap right before surgery or an epidural right away so it would take effect before surgery.

All this new information was presented to me while contractions were happening. All I could think about was the pain in my abdomen and my breech baby. Everyone waited for my decision, but I coudn't come to a conclusion alone. I looked to my husband, wanting his strength in that moment. My mother-in-law suggested they give us a moment to discuss our options, but they only stood there awaiting or decision.

I asked what the side effects were for a spinal tap versus an epidural. There was a higher risk of headaches with an epidural, but a spinal tap would immobilize me for several hours after. I opted for the epidural. I don't remember the pain when they placed it. All I remember is hugging a pillow and being held in my husband's strong arms.

The epidural took effect in 10 minutes. Without feeling the pain, my head cleared a bit. The doctor came back an told us we had some options. He said if I wanted to try for a vaginal breech delivery, I could, but there were conditions. Should labour stall out or either the baby or I go into distress, he'd have to do a c-section. If I laboured successfully and made it to pushing, they'd put me on oxytocin to keep the contractions strong and get baby out fast. If I pushed for more than an hour and a haf, c-section. I was so happy to have option, I immediately told the doctor we wanted to try.

So on we laboured. The epidural was amazing and had I been smart, I'd have napped while my body worked. But with my husband and mother-in-law there, I felt rude to sleep. We all visited quietly as I slowly progressed and time went on. My mother-in-law picked up pizza for them and it smelled amazing! Unfortunately, due to the epidural, I wasn't allowed food or water. They promised to save me a piece.

By 8 p.m., I was 8 centimeters. Baby was happy and I'd been progressing 1-2 centimeters every two hours. I anticipated being told the next time they checked that I was fully dilated and ready to push.

At 10 p.m., the nurse checked my progress. There was none. In fact, contractions were stalling out. The doctors had changed over to the night shift and a new doctor came in. She sat beside me, did her own check, and checked the baby's hear beat and contractions. She turned to Curtis and me. Baby was still doing well, happy as could be. But there was some meconium when they checked my cervix, meaning baby had pooped. I was still only 8 cm, which indicated they were slowing down. Her suggestion was to perform a c-section now while we were both happy, instead of waiting and risking the trauma of an emergency c-section. If I wanted to continue to try, she'd support it, but a c-section was her recommendation for course of action.

I weighed our option. While I didn't want a c-section, I also didn't want to risk my health or that of my baby. I told the doctor I would have the c-section. She nodded and said they would get the paper work to sign and begin preparing me for surgery.

When the doctor left, I looked up at Curtis. I have never seen disappointment so clearly etched on someone's face as I did on his in that moment. He didn't want the c-section. He didn't want that kind of recovery for me. I didn't want it that way either. I took his hand. In that moment we needed one another more than ever.

Papers were signed and my body prepared. They wheeled us down to the operating room and I was transferred onto the table. My arms were placed outstretched on two boards and I felt like Jesus on the cross. A curtain was drawn up between my chest and abdomen where the surgery would take place. Curtis sat at my head and I kept my eyes on him. As soon as they were confident I couldn't feel anything, the surgery began.

We could hear the medical staff on the other side working as they cut open my uterus to birth my baby. I couldn't feel pain, but I did feel the pressure of them pushing on my stomach to get my baby out.

"It's a boy!" a nurse called out before we had even seen our baby. He was whisked to the corner where more nurses awaited to clean him off, weigh and measure him, and suction him while I was being stitched back together. Curtis was called over to cut the cord, take pictures and hold our child. He was born at 11:36 p.m. on July 29th, weighing 8lb and 2oz.

As soon as he was born, I began to shake from the adrenaline and medication being pumped into my veins from the IV. My arms shook horribly and I could barely move my head to look at Curtis as he sat back down and turned our son towards me. I later learned that Curtis had teared up when he was born, but due to the shaking, I missed that sweet moment.

When we first found out we were pregnant, Curtis had said if we had a boy, he would be named Xander. He had liked the name for years and always said his first son would be named that.

"We have a son," he said, trying to help me catch a glimpse of our baby.

"We have our Xander," I replied.

All stitched up, I was again transferred onto a bed and rolled into recovery. We spent some time there as they made sure all was well. Once feeling had returned, my baby was placed skin to skin with me. I couldn't stop looking at his red little face. He was mine and he was perfect. We established nursing and once in our room, he spent the night on my chest.

We spent two and a half days at the hospital before being discharged. We got home and settled in as a family of three. Shortly after, I began sobbing. Curtis asked what was wrong and held me in his arms as I sobbed out, "Nothing. I'm just so happy to be home." He hugged me and sent me for a shower and nap. It felt amazing and brought me back down to being calm.

That night, as we were looking at our baby, I turned to Curtis. "It feels like he has always been here and wasn't born just three days ago." I could barely remember what life had been like before Xander was born. Life was exactly as it was supposed to be.


~Emilie

The Coming Weeks

Thirty-six weeks yesterday. This last trimester seems to have flown by. Hard to believe in a month or less we will be snuggling this little munchkin. I hope it goes as quickly as have the past few weeks.

I wanted to take this opportunity to share some of my hopes and desires for this birth. My first two didn't go quite as planned. Our oldest son was born breech via an unplanned c-section. Our second was born via VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) which was what I wanted, but I had developed Cholestasis at 33 weeks and had to transfer care from my midwife to the OB. As of today, all is well. Baby is in the proper head down position, my c-section scar has healed nicely, and there is no sign of Cholestasis reoccurring. So long as no complications or emergencies arise, I will be giving birth with the assistance of a midwife.

We are currently planning a home water birth. I never thought I'd want a home birth, but something with this pregnancy was different. I knew I didn't want a standard hospital birth, but rather a midwife attended birth was my desire. I was convinced I'd be happy with a hospital birth with a midwife. Still, I asked my midwife about home births, at first out of curiosity, but then with real desire to make an informed decisions. I read other mothers home birth experiences and the beauty and peace they spoke of made me desire that experience for myself. I still had doubts and concerns with a home birth with this being my second VBAC.

And then I read The Absorbent Mind. Maria Montessori spoke of the trauma of birth and how everything is new to the infant. This is the child's first experience of its environment and it is our duty to make the transition as peaceful as possible. She also spoke of how mother nature provides the perfect opportunity to carry out this duty.

And the mother herself is kept helpless for a time. Keeping still for her own benefit, she communicates the necessary calm to her child. Everything happens as if the mother unconsciously realized the damage done to her baby. Holding him tightly, she gives him of her warmth, and protects him from too many sensations.
~Maria Montessori

This passage and the whole section on birth resonated with me. It's all over the web that birth is beautiful and empowering and all the power to women. Most of the world realizes the sacredness of birth, but mainly from the perspective of what the mother and her body has achieved. What we tend to forget is the other person who is directly effected by birth. Montessori brings this to light beautifully.

Birth is traumatic both for the mother's body and the baby in that the mother brings forth a new soul through pain and pushing and the baby is brought forth from the warm womb into a world full of new sensations completely foreign. Both are beautiful and sacred and need to be respected and protected in the postpartum-newborn stage. As the mother, I will be healing from a physically and mentally demanding experience. Rest is encouraged. In being made to rest and heal, I am given the opportunity to assist my baby in experiencing the same rest, healing, and calm. 

Midwifery care and a home birth are so compatible with this image. A home birth eliminates the need for movement after birth. The transfer from the hospital to home, settling into another, separate environment from the one they entered into, even dressing, is negated. With a home birth, peace and calm can begin from the moment baby is born with little to no interruption. The environment is prepared as I desire it and as is suitable for my infant. As for midwifery care, they are there strictly for the mother and baby. They will not be rushing the immediate post birth process to rush off somewhere else. Their attention is undivided and respectful of each moment that follows delivery. In the first week postpartum, the midwife does three home visits to facilitate staying in bed and resting, making it possible to maintain the peaceful environment and to simply be with baby and ones family.

A home birth is the only way I can imagine the birth of our third child taking place. This pregnancy started with anxiety and has seemed harder than my previous two with exhaustion, low iron, and the most weight gain. All I want is for this baby to be brought into this world in peace, for baby to know peace and calm. And what better time to start than the moment of birth?

~Emilie

Discovering the Montessori Method

I don't know if you've ever viewed a Montessori blog or Instagram account before, but they are always so well put together. The images are clean and crisp, the children concentrating so closely with the task at hand, or the environment looks like something out of a magazine. And the content or caption makes it seem so magical and like the children took to the Method seamlessly, that they are naturals.

Don't get me wrong; I love seeing these. It's inspiring. Sometimes though, my own fickle mind misguides me. When I see these accounts, I think "how can I get my son to do this? I must teach him!" It all seems so idyllic, and it is how I imagine our life looking. I know it needs to happen and believe it is up to me to enforce it all.

Before delving into researching the Montessori Method, I understood it to simply be a teaching platform, with the activities I'd see floating around Pinterest being like lesson plans. I believed it to be something I could physically teach and enforce in my children, and that through efforts all my own, they'd become these perfect and tantrum-free toddlers. Life would be bliss and full of peace. But it is so much more than just a means for teaching. It is a mindset. It must infiltrate your daily life in so many ways that it can seem daunting, but from my understanding now, the Montessori Method and your child following it has nothing to do with enforcing or verbally and physically teaching it to your child.

 "... the child is not an inert being who owes everything that he can do to us, as if he were an empty vessel that we have filled. No, it is the child who makes the man, and no man exists who was not made by the child once he was."
~Maria Montessori, The Absorbent Mind

Maria Montessori explains how a child absorbs all things - language, habits, culture, etc. - through their own personal experiences and observations within their environment. Adults do not teach young children these things. The child is his own teacher. We - the adults - are merely "...collaborators in the building process."

When first I read this information, I was struck by how true it was. An example that came to mind immediately from my own life is potty training. I cannot teach my son what the sensation of a full bladder feels like and when to go use the toilet. He has to make that connection himself through experience. The only thing I can do is follow his lead and guide him when needed. Accidents will happen, but eventually he will learn the sensation of needing to pee and connect it with bladder control and using the toilet.

Going back a couple paragraphs, I stated the child is his own teacher. This doesn't mean we don't have a part to play. Our job is to work along side, observing the child's needs and allowing them independence where they believe they are capable. If a child believes he can do something, he will try on his own. Until the child asks for assistance, we should allow them to work towards their independence without interruption. The exception would be if what the child is doing is dangerous to himself or others around him, then stepping in would be the appropriate response.

A child learns from his environment. If the child's surroundings are crowded or cluttered, the child will learn that this is how all spaces should be. If, alternatively, it is tidy, spacious, and ordered, the child will absorb that information and it will become a part of them.

As the parent, it is my job to prepare the environment to be appealing and garner interest so absorption can occur. It is also my job to model appropriate habits and behaviours. A clean room will only influence a child to be tidy so long as the action of tidying it is modeled. If I clean up the toys once my toddler is in bed, he will believe that messes clean themselves and he need not put any effort in when a mess is to be cleaned. If we do not have respect for our environment and take action, our children will not adopt that quality themselves. I am personally still learning and working towards the prepared environment and shifting my mindset from dictating and demanding to one of invitation and modeling.

There are so many more aspects to Montessori than just the prepared environment and modeling. I have barely scratched the surface in my own research, but the ultimate goal is nurturing independent, confident, and competent children, who will one day be the force of our society.

~Emilie

I'd just like to add that I am in no way an expert on Montessori. I know many people are interested in the method, and I find this information fascinating and in line with what I believe to be true about children. My blog is not a Montessori blog, but I do anticipate sharing more of my thoughts, revelations, and experiences with Montessori as it becomes apart of our lives.

Courage, Dear Heart

At the beginning of January, a friend shared a link for generating a word to reflect on and live by for the year. Normally, I click on generators like this out of idle curiosity and not take them seriously. But after seeing several people mention their word of the year and how or why they chose it, I decided to follow through. II had been feeling lost, and needed something to give meaning and focus to my day to day, something to tie my year together.

I prayed before generating my word. My prayer was that the word would readily pertain to my life, and that I accept whatever the word ended up being. I hit the button and within a moment, a word - my word popped on the screen.

Courage.

I jotted it down, fairly satisfied with it. It didn't take long for me to reflect on ways I could see it come into play in our life. Expecting our third baby in three years had already drawn some unkind comments and more are bound to come when people find out we have three under three. It will take courage and kindness to defend our family and not be riled up by the rudeness of others.

Another area I knew I was being called to live out courage was in initiating coffee or play dates with others. As an introvert, initiating is not my forte, but I have been feeling the need to build up my community, and that will require stepping out of my comfort zone.

A third way I saw courage playing a role was in researching the Montessori Method and implementing the mindset in our home. What little I knew about it confirmed it would be amazing for our oldest (and myself), but it seemed complicated and a height of perfection I could not reach. I was afraid to start in case of failure to achieve the end goal. My own perfectionism was holding me back. It was going to take courage to push those doubts aside and step out with purpose and concentration.

These are the ways in which I predict my word of the year playing its part in our lives. I enjoy comfort and security in knowing where things will go or how they'll happen. Straying into the unknown scares me and so I stay where I am. But maybe this is the year to dive into new endeavors with confidence and courage. Nothing good comes from staying stagnant.

Precious Love

Openness to life and large families have been topics under much reflection lately.

At the end of July, I was asked how I felt knowing my husband and I would most likely have the most children out of his siblings. My response was that it saddened me. Both of us grew up in large families - 7 siblings each - and I personally enjoyed it. It wasn't always easy, but I never wished I had less siblings or that I had been an only child. It also saddened me because I would love for my children to have many cousins with whom they can build friendships and go on adventures. A bigger family made sense to me on so many levels.

The following month was when I experienced my discontentment. Previously, I had said I wanted to wait until our youngest was a year old and completely weaned before being pregnant again. After that, whatever happened, happened. But my baby weaned just shy of 10 months old. When engorgement finally settled, it felt pretty good to have my body to myself again. I began to think we should wait longer before being open to another child. I wanted my body to myself for as long as possible. The idea of having another baby so soon did not appeal to me anymore.

My cycle returned shortly after. All I could think about was how I did not want to get pregnant. I was so afraid to get pregnant. We already had two. What was the "rush" to have more?

There are always valid reasons to avoid a pregnancy. Financial concerns, the mental, physical, and emotional health of the mother are all important to consider. But for me, my reasons were totally selfish. I didn't want to share myself or my body so closely with another person. This was my body, and I was convinced I would cry if I got pregnant again before I was ready.

The long weekend in September, both my husband and I received comments toward the size our family or was going to be. My husband was told we are bound to have 8 kids, because he had married a good Catholic girl. A stranger in a group I was conversing with made a comment along the lines of negativity toward big families. Her conclusion was that people with big families are crazy for having so many children. She asked if I had a lot of kids and, in my current state of mind toward pregnancy, I scoffed a bit and said we only had two and that was enough for now.

That same weekend, we went out on a date. The waitress asked if we had any post-dinner plans. I said we would just be picking up our kids. She asked how many, and I replied that we had two. She then asked if we would have more. My answer was that we would probably have more (I knew we would, but I was not open for it to be time). My husband, on the other hand, said "not that many more."

Those three comments, all in one weekend, got me thinking. It irked me that so many people had opinions or a curiosity towards our choice to have more kids. This post was originally much more angry and pointed to how it was no one's business. 

I thought that was it. I could write out my emotions and feel better. But I continued to stew over the topic. Why do I have to defend our choice of life, but am praised or encouraged when I chose the view of "it's my body"? I thought about if we were to get pregnant again, how I'd feel like I have to defend the natural occurrence of pregnancy when husband and wife love each other, and yet how people would make me feel embarrassed and even ashamed. The comments would attack and make us seem irresponsible, when we are ultimately claiming responsibility for our actions by choosing life.

Pregnancy is one of the visible signs of my love for my husband and my family. In growing a tiny human, I am demonstrating the beauty of sacrificial love I hope my children will one day live in their lives. I am saying yes to my vocation as a wife and as a mother. It is nothing but beautiful. It is a statement of love. And yet society makes us feel ashamed and embarrassed because we choose to show our love for one another in one of the most natural ways within a marriage.

So next time we announce a pregnancy to friends or family, I refuse to give the reaction being forced upon us. I am not ashamed the love I possess for my family, and I am not embarrassed to be entrusted with the care of another soul. I will always be excited about my family, and will always be excited when I have the opportunity to grow our love and life.

~Emilie