25 August, 2010

my cesarean

yes. i had a cesarean. not the homebirth i had planned. a cesarean. and i am still torn up about it. well, not still. at first i was ok. now i am torn up. the more time i have had to process it, the worse i get.

it was the best it could have been. or at least close to it. meredith was there. daddy was there. you nursed beautifully in the recovery room.

but i did not birth you. we did not labor together. we missed it.

is that why you are so pissed off? i mean you are a happy boy now. but you still get quite pissed pretty easily. and your transition to this earth was not easy. you were really pissed off for about three months.

everyone says that i cannot regret my decision because i had no choice. but i did have a choice. i chose to allow you to be cut out of my abdomen. i chose it over the very small possibility that if we were to labor at home at the time of your choosing, we could lose you. so no, it wasn't much of a choice, but it was a choice. one i will always have to live with.

i will never know what would have happened if i had not made that choice. i can only imagine. maybe we could have labored together. maybe you would even have turned at some point and i could have birthed you at home into my arms. or daddy's.

or maybe your cord would have prolapsed and maybe you would have died.

i chose. i chose to have a cesarean. i chose something that i never even believed would be a possibility for me. i chose because when a doctor says there is a chance, even the most valiant of mothers makes that choice.

it was a brave choice. it was an informed choice. it was a choice.

i do not regret it. i mourn it. i mourn the loss of our birth at home. i mourn the loss of being the first to hold you.

i am sorry they put that shit in your eyes when you were born even though i told them not to. i am sorry for the lights. for the cold. for the masks. i am sorry for the smells. for the strangers. for the being pulled out. i am sorry.

but i love you. and i was afraid to lose you.

16 August, 2010

three years

i realized last night that i'm not quite sure how i have anything left to give of myself. it was three years ago last month that your dad and i started trying to become parents. it took us three months to conceive your brother. i was pregnant for five months. they were an easy and exciting five months, for the most part.

but ever since coooper's birth and death, my life has been a non-stop expulsion of energy. i've been spending my energy for two and a half years.

just after cooper was born, i spent months trying to figure out what caused his prematurity. i read. i googled. i went for acupuncture. ayurveda. workshops. journaling. grief support group. i spent all of my energy trying to find out the cause. and to be ok with the result.

then there was the infertility, which overlapped with the previous spending. blood drawn. tests. meditation. yoga. ultrasounds. shots, pills, suppositories. planned sex. chinese herbal teas.

all of this time obsessing about every little thing that crossed my lips.

then, ivf. more shots and suppositories. and ultrasounds. and bloodwork. egg retrieval surgery.

and then there was you.

my pregnancy was wonderful. i loved carrying you in my belly. but i was stressed. i ate obsessively, drank water obsessively. acupuncture appointments. more disgusting herbal teas. ultrasounds. worry. little sleep. herbal supplements.vitamin supplements. what can i eat safely? what should i eat for your benefit? will i lose you, too?

then there was the low-lying placenta. avoiding certain yoga poses.

then you were breech. seven weeks of trying to help you turn. i tried everything (i listed the long list on an earlier post, so we don't need to revisit that). so let's just say that everything i did or thought was about turning you. for seven long weeks.

and then there was the cesarean. and the healing. physical, not mental, because that hasn't happened yet. that is a whole post of it's own. i will brave that one soon. i hope.

then the breastfeeding. that took a good three months to get down. oh, and you cried a lot, too. so every second was spent either bouncing or walking or nursing. and i cried a lot.

and now you are you. you are my baby. and i am your mom. your attached mom. super attached. i have you with me nearly every second of every day. and i love it. i would not have it any other way. all of my energy goes to you.

it leads me to wonder how i have anything left. (i do.)
and it makes me wonder how anyone can expect me to. (they do.)

09 August, 2010

becoming me

i've always had friends. and good ones. i love my friends. friends from childhood when i was shy and sneaky, from high school when i was a real bitch, from my early twenties when i was a drunken pot smoker, and friends from teaching, when i was close to becoming me.

they've all acepted me. and the sarcasm, the knowing-it-all, the impulsivity, the compassion, the honesty, the going-with-the-flow, the flying-off-the-handle, the silliness, the seriousness, the dichotomy, the bullshit of me.

but until now, i wasn't me. i kind of feel like there was no me. i was looking real hard for a long time. but i never really found me. i never knew who i really was. i mean, who i was at the true core of my being. but now i finally know.

until there was you, there was no me.

i am your mother.

07 August, 2010

one important thing i forgot to say

i actually was in labor on your birthday. dr. salvatore said my cervix was super thin. i was having conrtactions, which i think might have started the day before. dr. s. said that she could guarantee that if i went home i'd be back either that night or the next day. so at least i didn't really pick your birthday.


so i've decided to continue updating this blog. there are things people should know. i am ALWAYS typing with you on my lap, usually sleeping and sucking. well, always sleeping. sometimes you fall off of the nipple. that's nice. also, i should be doing other things. like typing my papers for my birthworks cert. or reading my required books. or trying to sell...well, anything, so i can stay home with you. i'm trying to sell barefoot books. i'm getting back into teaching yoga. i'd also like to set up a business so i can sell babywearing stuff and other things. oh, and erica and i want to write a book. but here i am, usually wasting time on facebook. typing with one hand. my left hand, which is not the right one.

so i'll continue writing to you. and maybe people will read it. and maybe they'll share it. and maybe someday, someone will advertise here and i can stay home with you. that was aunt tammy's idea. i like it.

see, it's not that i don't like to work. well, i don't love it, but teaching is fun for me. i love those kids. and my subject is fun. but i have a new passion now. so, we'll see.

this is one boring post.