Nostalgia

Today marks my daughter's 9 month birthday. Moving forward she will have been alive longer in the outside world than she was inside of me. 

It makes me think of her birth and how amazing it was to birth her at home. Having my daughter at home was the best and most comfortable choice for me, my baby, and my husband. It isn't for everyone, but if you're ever considered it, and wondered what it looks like, here are a few photos and the story of my daughter's birth. 

I've tried to write this story several times, but today I was able. It's settled enough, and I finally stopped trying to make it so long and detailed and eloquent. Cause that's not how it happened, and that's now how it had to be written.

{This is stream of thought, unedited, and I wanted to keep it that way, rough, raw, and honest}

How I remember it: 
We lived in a two bedroom apartment in Golden, Colorado, while the rest of our family lived about 1,700 miles back in Maryland. I knew I wanted my mom with me for the birth, but it took a lot of back and forth before we finally picked a date for her to fly out. December 18th, I picked her up from the airport. 

December 19th: We went on a drive around beautiful Colorado. Up into the mountains through Coal Creek Canyon,  into Rollinsville to look at the Moffat Tunnel, back down Boulder Canyon to walk around Boulder. Along the pitch black highway 93 to Golden we stopped at the Sherpa House to have Indian food for dinner. 

Indian food + elevation changes + Clary sage on Spleen 6 induction points = time to have the baby before my twin arrives on the 24th

December 20th: Mind you only ~3% of women have their water break in a gush. Mine was more in that other percent where you're so pregnant you're not sure if you peed yourself or not. So back and forth to the bathroom, to definitely confirm that my water had broken at ~8:20am. Contractions didn't really start until later in the day, in the mean time we ran some last minute errands to Target, Home Depot. I prepped and cooked some freezer meals to have for after the birth. Mostly waiting around for labor to pick up. Around 6, I was starving, and we decided to go out to Chipotle. You have to know the hubs and I, to understand our dinner choice while in labor. 

It gets a little fuzzy for me after this of when things were happening. Our amazing midwife *cough cough, hire her for all the babies* Janet Schwab from 2 Each Her Own LLC arrived around 10, and our doula Leah arrived shortly after. 

Contractions were not so awful for me. Hubs and I were doing a good job with our hypno techniques, until the back pain really started to set in. Having a posterior baby is not a fun experience. Instead of getting a nice break in between surges, I experienced searing lower back pain. 

I found some relief in the birth pool, was laboring as well as was to be expected, threw up! And I think we all thought I was in transition (7-8cm!) Since my water had broken, I hadn't been checked yet. I was finally checked only to discover.... I was about 4cm. Not what we were expecting. Our midwife was a rockstar, and really investigated what was going on. Finally, during a contraction, she pushed me to be completely dilated. At some point the assistant was called. 

I was still really struggling with the back pain, and so we decided to try a saline injection. At the same time, the midwives injected some saline into my lower back to help apply continuous counter pressure in hopes of pain relief. This was when I couldn't contain it any longer, and started cussing. TERRIBLE TERRIBLE. But... I got about an hour of some relief from the back pain, which I feel was instrumental in allowing me to get back on top of my coping, and continue laboring.

I still wasn't making enough progress in the tub, so I had to get out. This is like the saddest thing you can ever tell a laboring woman.... to get out of the nice water where it's warm, and you're boyant, and a smidge more comfortable. But out I had to go. 

I labored around the house for a while, started feeling "pushy". We tried pushing in so many different positions, and finally ended up squatting on the birth stool. FOR HOURS. (I think it was probably about two) Baby was hung up on my pubic bone and did not want to progress further. 

~5:45am: Our midwife gave us some options. We could either transfer to the hospital and get some pain relief, keep doing what we're doing, or try something, anything else. I had been falling asleep between contractions. The female body is absolutely amazing, that even with such pressure, and pain, and exertion, the two minutes between surges, it found rest. 

My husband was our savoir that night. He protected us, kept us going, supported us, and when we finally were faced with some tough options, he asked if we could just stop trying and lay down and sleep. Janet was monitoring baby's heart rate with a Doppler, so we knew she was fine. 

We got set up, me laying on my left side, husband facing me, pillows everywhere supporting me. And just slept. Felt like it at least. When I finally stopped trying to push with my body, and just let it do it's thing, it was amazing. They were by far the strongest contractions, with a force and strength of their own that was taking my body and my baby with them. 

Then something changed. My back pain was GONE, and I felt her pushing my front. It was surreal. I can still feel a ghost of the sensation of her turning. Now, contractions were so definitely manageable. 

I think there were about three contractions of truly pushing her out,  her crowning, and her being born. She was brought straight up to my chest, blue and beautiful. High altitude babies are almost always born blue, due to the air difference between womb and world. So no concern, she pinked up incredibly fast. As happy as I was to see her, it was not the magical moment I was hoping for. Her umbilical cord was resting on a part of me that hurt, all I wanted to do was sleep or eat, or both. But it was important to me to wait for her cord to stop pulsing, and to start breastfeeding. Husband cut the cord, and held her while I birthed the placenta. This turned out to be a good idea, because I lost a lot of blood after the placenta came out. My midwives were on top of it, with uterine massage and a quick shot of pitocin to make my uterus contract. 

Baby breastfed, we snuggled, she got her stats and her vitamin K shot, but nothing else. I got up to pee and almost passed out. Then finally it all wound down, and our new little family of three (plus corgi) got to bond and sleep in our bed. 

Her new title, Nana, was there for her granddaughters first moments of life, and got to hold her soon after. You can see they have a special connection because of it, and I am so happy that my mom was there. Although I couldn't tell you where she was during my labor, I knew she was around and that helped me feel comfortable. She went out and bought a shop vac to vacuum the blood off the carpet, a good story where she got it for a penny. I was pretty much passed out asleep while she cleaned up next to me, and my husband had the baby out in the living room. 

Had to call the midwife back after I tried to get up after napping, because I couldn't without going white and almost fainting, but I felt immensely better after I was able to get up and pee again. With the help of my peri-bottle (mammas you know!). 

Someone went out (hubs or mom?) and got me a Jimmy Johns Italian sandwich. Which I had been craving FOR MONTHS, but pregnant woman shouldn't have lunch meat. 

And that began the amazing adventure I've been having with my daughter. We coslept, breastfed on demand, babywore during every evening fussy period, attachment parented, and just let her develop as she saw fit. 

9 months. I can't believe it. It'll be cool when she gets to be a year old, but for now, this is the odd part for me. Longer outside than in. I carried her, my body was her home, I brought her into this world, and I nourished her. Now she's a "busy baby" pretty much all the time, and she comes to me when she wants to nurse, but it's hard to get her to hold still and snuggle. 

Nostalgia: "a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations."