Superwoman

In the moments immediately following Eve’s birth, as the tub filled with blood and I held her (per my midwife’s instructions) with just her head above the water, I felt like a superwoman. Despite the fact that we had not attended any birthing classes, I’d managed to have the med-free birth that I have always wanted. I had been saying for years that I would use no drugs unless medically indicated, and for years most people who found out my intentions (I did not just volunteer the information because of the negative response I almost always received) were sarcastic, discouraging, and dismissive.

Even at my own baby shower, at one point I was surrounded by half a dozen women who were saying, “Yeah, right, good luck with that.” My mother-in-law rescued me with four simple words: “You can do it.” It was hard, finding a way to say, “I will” when almost everyone around me insisted “You can’t.” As my pregnancy progressed, I started to feel like a liar.

While reviewing my birth plan during my final month of pregnancy, one of my midwives asked which birthing class we had taken: Bradley, Hypnobabies, something else? The truth was that, due to money and time constraints, we had taken no birthing classes. The look on her face said it all, but she tried to assure me, “Okay, I’ve seen some women accomplish a med-free birth without preparation.” She made it sound like a remote possibility…but at least to her, it was a possibility. And that was something.

My water broke spontaneously around 2 in the morning and by the time we arrived at the hospital at 6, I was contracting strongly enough such that it was difficult to speak. It was uncomfortable, but not necessarily painful. That changed pretty quickly, and I spent the next twenty hours in the longest physical trial I’ve ever had to endure. My contractions did not follow the pattern that all the books said that they would; they never became regular, and I had clusters of contractions for almost the entire time.

I did not sleep, except for minute-long micronaps in between contractions. I cried a couple of times, mostly out of exhaustion. I showered several times every hour, letting the warm water run over my lower back, where it hurt most (I had back labor but didn’t realize it until long after I had the baby, when comparing birth stories with another mom). I begged the nurses and the midwives to let me get in the tub, to let me push, to let me put an end to this pain.

Why ever in the world did I volunteer myself for such a difficult experience? I had several reasons:

• I’ve never liked taking painkillers, for any reason. I have a fairly high threshold for pain. I refused all meds even during my recovery after Eve was born.
• I did not want to risk an escalation in intervention. Use of an epidural decreases the chances of a successful vaginal birth considerably, and major abdominal surgery was not on my list of things I’d like to have.
• Use of painkillers significantly inhibits the endorphin response in the laboring parent. Birth was not only painful and frightening for me, but it was painful and frightening for Eve, and reducing my endorphin release meant that Eve would not have the benefit of sharing those hormones with me.
• I wanted to be able to walk, shower, eat, and drink during my labor.
• I did not want to risk interfering with breastfeeding.
• I wanted to give birth in a birthing tub.
• After a while, I just wanted to see if I could really do it.

After all of the self-doubt and nervousness, after the pain and tears, I did do it! I felt high for days after Eve was born. I was not a superwoman because I gave birth the “superior” way (I didn’t), or because going med-free made me a better parent than one who chooses an epidural (I’m not), but because I trusted myself to do something difficult and then by God I fucking did it. I’d been told for over a decade that I would never have the strength to do it and then I did it anyway. And it felt wonderful.

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I do not recommend attempting a med-free birth without preparation, make no mistake about that. If you can afford it and if you can find the time, do it. Not everyone has a choice (we really didn’t at the time). But if you do have a choice, take the classes. Even if you don’t intend to have a med-free birth, still take the classes, because shit happens and nobody is guaranteed painkillers during their labor. I can’t imagine going into labor with the expectation that I will have an epidural only to find out that the anesthesiologist isn’t going to make it in time. Be prepared.

Vulnerable

So I had no intention of taking a break from blogging while we were on vacation, but the place we’re staying charges $5 per day per machine for internet access. Since I’m not made of money, we’ll have very limited access. I may have the chance to put up a post tomorrow morning before my services expires, but if not, I’ll likely disappear for the rest of the week. I may pay for one more day sometime in the middle of the week, but possibly not. The sheer expense is mindblowing!

Since I’ve had Eve, one of the things I always do when traveling is to look up the state laws pertaining to breastfeeding. I’m lucky to live in a state that explicitly defends a woman’s right to nurse in public, and until now we’ve always stayed in states with similar laws.

This time, however, I have no such protection. While there is a law in place that will prevent me from being charged with a sex crime for nursing my daughter (the very fact that such a law has to exist makes me ragey), there is nothing in place that will prevent a private establishment from kicking me out if I need to feed my baby straight from the tap.

This has me feeling…uneasy, to say the least. For the past year I’ve been very, very lucky to have never been confronted aggressively or negatively for nursing Eve in public. For the next week, every time I unbutton my bra and cradle her close to my breast, I’m going to have to wonder whether we are going to be targeted, humiliated, harassed, shamed, or shown the door. I am afraid to feed my daughter. And I am realizing for the first time the extent to which I had taken the laws of my home state for granted; without them I feel naked, unprotected. The women who live here and nurse their children have to deal with this all the time. I found a website for the state in which parents have compiled a list of nursing-friendly businesses, a resource that is just not necessary in my home state (as well as 43 other states!) because all businesses are legally mandated to allow me to nurse.

It’s just a week. I know I can do it, and that even if we get kicked out of a pizza place or arcade, at least the law is on my side enough such that I won’t be put on a sex offender registry for having the indecency to feed my hungry baby while on vacation. I guess that’s a silver lining?

Why

Today my little family participated in a walk for World Breastfeeding Week. I was delighted to find out that it was the first, because that meant that 5, 15, 25 years from now, when I’m an IBCLC, I’ll be able to say, “I remember the very first year that we did this walk. It rained and the heat index was 105! But it was the start of something beautiful.”

It was awesome to be surrounded by so many people who are passionate about breastfeeding. I did get the impression that some of them were of the “Let’s convince women to breastfeed because it’s awesome!” camp, which I actually am not a part of at all, although I understand where the urge to evangelize comes from even if I don’t agree with it. My particular brand of lactivism doesn’t focus on telling women what to do; I prefer to put the pressure on politicians, on businesses, on hospitals and care providers, and on insurance companies to support the women who have chosen to nurse their children. More women will nurse once nursing becomes a more [socially] affordable and less stigmatized option.

Anyway, I’m on a natural high after spending a couple of hours surrounded by lactation consultants, peer counsellors, breastfeeding coalition members, and babies. It’s got me thinking about why I chose to nurse and have chosen to continue my nursing relationship with Eve.

I breastfeed because:

• Human milk has evolved to be the absolute best source of nutrition for human babies. Cow’s milk evolved to be the best source of nutrition for cow babies; for me personally, it makes little sense to give cow’s milk in place of human milk.
• It’s sustainable. Think about all of the cows, the processing, the plastics, and the oil spent in getting formula from a cow’s udder to a child’s bottle. Nursing is much friendlier to the planet, especially for those lucky parents who don’t need to pump and store their milk.
• It’s much less expensive than formula.
• The anti-capitalist part of me loves the fact that I am providing food for my child without paying for some rich dude’s Ferrari.
• It feels good. I especially like the tinglyness I feel when letting down.
• Eve is heartbreakingly adorable when she falls asleep at my breast (which happens at least once a day).
• Squirting Marcus in the face with milk is hilarious.
• Squirting Eve in the face with milk is likewise hilarious!
• Watching Eve grab my breast and accidentally squirt herself in the face is the most hilarious!
• It’s convenient to not have to prepare a bottle in the middle of the night.
• It’s convenient to not have to carry bottles around when we leave the house.
• Breastmilk makes a fine substitute for cooking with when we’ve run out of cow’s milk or almond milk.
• The antibodies in my milk protected Eve from contracting the swine flu when I caught it.
• It’s an excuse to stop, slow down, and snuggle.

Those are just a few off the top of my head. Nursing has been a vital and beloved component of the relationship that I share with my daughter, and I am so, so grateful to have had this experience. There are plenty of parents out there who have wanted to breastfeed but couldn’t, due to financial, medical, or social reasons, and I hope that they realize that this month and week honors them too. This is for everyone who supports breastfeeding, regardless of whether or not they did it themselves (by choice or circumstance):

Thank you.

Precious, Precious Freebies!

I found out that the Lactation Education Resource is offering one free online class in honor of World Breastfeeding Week. The class, entitled “Initiation of Breastfeeding: A Biological Perspective,” is normally $25. This is a fun deal for anyone interested in lactation consultation (like me) or just wants to learn something new about boobies and why babies like them. It’s only good until the 7th, so check it out while you still can!

I’ll put up a real entry later today (hopefully). We go on vacation next week, so this week at work is pretty demanding.

Link Love: Breastfeeding Awareness

August, in addition to being an important time for my family, is also the US National Breastfeeding Awareness Month, and this first week (August 1-7) is World Breastfeeding Week. Naturally, as an aspiring IBCLC, I’m stoked! I’ll be posting about breastfeeding throughout the month. To kick off, here is some link love for, by, and about breastfeeding parents and babies:

Kellymom has been an incredible resource for me throughout my breastfeeding relationship with my daughter. There is a treasure of information regarding breastfeeding and how to maintain a healthy nursing relationship with your child. Every concern I ever had about nursing was answered in some way on Kellymom.com.

Ameda is holding a video contest for breastfeeding moms. Each video entry earns a donation of $5 to the Human Milk Banking Association of America and an entry to win a $2500 nursery makeover. Each tweet or comment entry earns a donation of $1. You can apparently enter once every day for the length of the contest, which runs until September 15th.

Get involved! Check to see if there are any Breastfeeding Awareness events going on in your state.

August

My name is not August, although that is the handle I’ve chosen for this blog. August is a month of significance for me. Shortly after my husband and I bought our first home, our condom usage started to become erratic. It was kind of exhilarating, toying with the risk of pregnancy as we were, and after talking to each other we decided that we were open to whatever happened. We weren’t trying, but we weren’t preventing either (P.S., “not preventing” counts as “trying” no matter what you try to tell yourself).

It only took two months. Back then, my period was like clockwork and I could usually predict it within a two hour span. It was twelve hours late (I told you! Clockwork!) so I tested merely out of habit. It came up immediately and undeniably positive.

My due date was in August. We were beyond thrilled, and so was everyone else. I did a lot of reading, so I knew that miscarriage was not rare, especially so early in a pregnancy. Everyone kept referring to the eventually baby in terms of “when” and I always corrected them with an “if.” They told me not to worry, not to be so paranoid.

Two month into my pregnancy, we went to see the heartbeat for the first time and…there was no heartbeat. I had miscarried sometime around Christmas and hadn’t even known it. That quickly, it was all over.

It was the worst time of my life. I spiraled into a depression and Marcus and I fought frequently about whether or not we should try again. In the meantime our contraceptive use was spotty; sometimes we used condoms and/or withdrawal, and sometimes we didn’t use anything at all. I was angry, bitter, depressed, and just so full of sorrow for all that I’d lost. It was the worst and darkest time of my life.

We started trying again in earnest in June. My due date in August came and went; mostly it was a normal day, until the night fell, when we wept together in the dark.

Months passed and my period came with dismaying regularity. I started to fear that there was something wrong with me; after six months of spotty contraceptive use followed by 5 months of no contraceptive use, I should have been pregnant. Finally, after Thanksgiving, we got the positive that we wanted. I was pregnant again. And I was due in August.

Eve was born on August 17th, 2009, twenty-four hours after my water broke at home. This month is her month, and while I still think about my miscarriage and even occasionally still cry over it, August is no longer entirely associated with the memory of loss. It’s the month in which I first heard my daughter’s cry, first looked into her eyes, first touched the hair on the top of her head, first brought her to my breast. She transformed a time of sorrow into a time of joy, and we will be celebrating the anniversary of the day she introduced herself to us in just a couple of weeks. She has changed and grown and given us so much since last August that I can hardly believe it.

This month is our month, so expect a fair amount of Eve-centric posts this month. She is a wonderful little person and I’m looking forward to sharing more about her with you all.