...while visions of tadpoles danced in my head

Week 9, Day 2

 

Our 8-week appointment was last Tuesday at 3:30.  At 2:00, I was picking up board games from a friend to play with Keith’s parents, who would be arriving for a week the following afternoon.  At 3:00, I picked Keith up from work (after running into a nearby bagel shop for a quick egg and cheese sandwich to quiet my gargling tummy), and as Keith finished up a conference call, we drove to Arlington Womens’ Center. 

For close to an hour, we waited in a lobby full of pregnant women of all sizes.  For an hour, I looked around and marveled at... well... how uncomfortable they all looked!   I watched how gingerly these women sat, their gigantic bellies pressing up into their rib cages, displacing their lower backs.  They certainly couldn't cross your legs or sit up straight, but rather, just sort of reclined - no, surrendered - into the back in their chairs.  That was my first impression in this waiting room – a lot of patient, excited, and uncomfortable women!

Bless Keith's heart for being the only husband in that waiting room.  When my name was called, Keith came back into the first room with me, where the first thing they would do was check for a viable pregnancy.  I’ll be honest and say that I didn’t know the ultrasound would be done vaginally.  Still being pretty new to the world of OB/GYN, I was a little surprised when that ultrasound gel was spread, well, NOT on my belly.

And then, in literally seconds, the most amazing image appeared on the big screen in front of us... 

Thinking back now, I don’t know why I fully expected to see an amoeba or a tadpole-like creature in this first ultrasound.  I imaged a pulsing orb coming from a little glob of cells.  Honestly.  But what we saw, immediately and without question, was a tiny human baby, complete with a human head and a human body, curled in sort of a fetal-like position (the same position I've been in for much of the last two weeks, fyi)  The head had dark places and light places, suggesting contours and future facial features.  The body had limb-like protrusions that seemed to twitch as the scope moved around.  The nurse said these kind of movements are mostly involuntary, but I’m convinced that the nugget was dancing for its daddy and me. 

We were so happy to share our good news (and the picture from the ultrasound) with Keith’s parents when they arrived the next evening.  We’ve spent a fun week in D.C together, celebrating Keith’s induction into the American Institute of Medical/Biomedical Engineers, and celebrating the new addition to our little family.

Body Beliefs

Today is my 8-week visit, and time to begin talking with OBs and midwives about the process of labor and delivery.   Keith and I are visiting an OB practice this afternoon, then attending a “Meet the Midwives” meeting at another hospital tonight.  

Decisions are based on lots of factors, but as I've read about various methods available for giving birth today, I've taken time to identify some core beliefs about my body and the process of childbirth so that I might have some kind of gauge by which to "feel in" to the people and practices we encounter today.   

What I believe:

I believe in my body’s capacity to deliver a baby.  While this is MY first delivery, and I have a lot to learn about the process of labor and delivery, I feel connected to the millions of women over generations of time in all corners of the earth who have given birth.  That connection is a source of great strength for me. 

I also believe the female body was designed – engineered - by a loving God as the best way to bring spirits into the world, and to be able to sustain their lives once here.  My becoming a mother is not only a miracle to me, but a responsibility and an opportunity to develop these qualities that are an inherent part of my design, my biology, my sociology.  

As a dancer, I have studied anatomy and kinesiology, the core, the pelvis and spine.  I am “in” my body.  I am familiar with the pelvis, and muscles of the pelvic floor.  I am familiar with the neuromuscular patterning of the body – how the body is fully connected developmentally, as well as how individual muscles work alone.  After all, it’s that ability to initiate and respond to subtle muscular sensations that is at the core of being a good dancer.  Sensing, articulating, initiating – these are things dancers do well. 

I also have very strong Leggat legs, thanks to my dad!

So, with these social, biological, spiritual and physical beliefs as my foundation, what I want to communicate to these care providers today is:  I believe it’s important to let my body do what it knows how to do.  The role of my care providers is to let natural processes run their course, and help coach me through the very natural process of childbirth. 

Some important details, then, that seem to bubble to the surface of my birth plan include: 

1.     Not being induced.  The baby and my body work together pretty well to communicate when this party should happen.  Hormones are released by the baby, which my body responds to; my body sets the stage to best introduce the star into the world.  It’s chemistry.  It’s biology.  If any one of those chemical processes is forced, aborted, or skipped, I am less prepared, chemically, psychologically, to labor and deliver.  

2.     Alternative birthing position.  I can’t imagine giving birth laying down.  Anatomically, it just isn’t an effective way to move a 9-lb baby through the birth canal.  It’s important to me that I am allowed to be in a position that allows my pelvis more room for forward tilting, to open the pelvic floor more.  That might be a squatting position, or sitting on a physioball.  Are doctors open to delivering a baby from other positions besides “lean back and open your legs in this direction?”

3.     Eating during labor – I’ve heard that sometimes women aren’t allowed to eat or drink anything during labor.  WHAT?  Are you nuts?  I am exerting an unspeakable amount of energy here, and my body needs calories.  Pushing might cause a little pooping?  Oh well!

4.     Not being medicated during labor.  Don’t get me wrong:  I am actually sort of a wimp when it comes to pain, blood, and I’d LOVE not feeling any pain during labor and delivery.  However, it is so important to me that I have full access to physical sensations happening in my lower body, core, and pelvis during labor.  I need to feel what is happening to best know how to move the delivery process along.  Where, when and HOW to push; where, when and HOW to breath.  The thought of being disconnected from the full capacity of my body’s physical sensation during labor feels more alienating that the thought of pain.  ….I might have a completely different opinion AFTER it’s all said and done….but for now, that’s how I feel.

I also recognize I am 39, and that there might be complications associated with my age that I am unaware of.  I hope to talk with my care providers about this.   And some things I would otherwise be opposed to (being on an IV, the baby being internally monitored), might need to be considered given my age.  I will definitely be open to their medical opinion! 

Looking forward to learning more today…

Calling All Angels

A week ago tonight, I was running some last minute errands preparing for a friend's arrival here in D.C.  I needed to fill my car with gas.  I also needed Wendy’s French fries and Gatorade.

Today I learned what the OB in “OB/GYN” meant, and after silently practicing the pronunciation in my head several times, I feel confident I would be able to say “Dr. so-and-so is my Obstetrician," without fumbling.  Obstetrician.  Obstetrician.  I’ve not ever typed this word before, so as I sit hear typing, I am aware there is no muscle memory in my fingers:  O-b-s-t-e-t-r-i-c-i-a-n. 

Now, I need to admit, I have gone against The Hubby's wishes that we keep this pregnancy top secret until we get a “medical opinion.”  I guess for him, a pregnancy test isn’t medical enough.  Perhaps he has the same concerns that many others rightfully have about waiting until the end of the first trimester in case of miscarriage.  I can’t even imagine what the heartache of miscarriage must feel like.  I hope that is not part of the story that is to come.  If it is, I will also turn, in sorrow, to these same women in my life for support, just as I turn to them in wonderment now for support, here at the beginning of Week 6. 

Yes, I have gone against Hubby's wishes.  I’m sorry Sweetheart.  You don’t even know yet that I told my parents over the weekend.  When I told Dad, he couldn’t stop laughing, he was so overjoyed.  “Marin, that’s great!  What great news!  Ha!”  His laughter came from his gut, the way it always does.  He was thrilled.  Monday morning, I finally got hold of Mom (Dad has almost been able to keep it secret), and as we talked, she got more and more excited, remembering stories about her pregnancies: running to the teacher’s lounge with terrible morning sickness with my oldest brother Jeff, and not even visiting the doctor until month five with my youngest brother, Brad, at age 43.  With six children, my mom rode her pregnancies like Buffalo Bill rode a horse – with ease and grace as if it was her calling in life.  My mom’s example is perhaps the thing that gives me the most faith, here at 39, that all will be well. 

So, Sweetie, the cat is in the process of coming out of the bag.  But you see, pregnancy is not something a woman endures alone.  A woman isn’t meant to be alone.  She is surrounded by an army of angels who celebrate, mourn, hope, pray, marvel, question and cheer right alongside her.  My angels are my parents, my sister, my best friend Becky, my dance friends, Andrea and Rebecca and Amanda, and other friends who are the most awesome of awesome mothers:  Heather, Emily, Ruthann, Becca, Jenna.  I turn to these women for advice only they can give at just the right time.  So, I am buoying up my defenses here by enlisting these angels early. 

Sweetheart, I hope you’ll forgive me.