I Am Boob

2 Weeks Old

Yep, it's been a few weeks since I wrote anything because I had a baby. That's right! Jonah Frank arrived December 16th, 8lbs 2oz. Here he is...

I know everyone is expecting a birth story, but instead of regaling you with the gory details I'm going to tell you the shit I wish people had told me, not just about labour but also about the weeks to follow because man-o-man it was nothing like I expected.

1) It Hurts So Good

I had a midwife assisted home birth so I did not have access to the bevvy of pain control medication available at conventional hospitals. I had a heating pad, a TENS Machine, and my own brute stubbornness. That's it.

And let me tell you... it totally sucked.

I say this not to scare anyone, or to make myself seem enviably tough. I say this because no one told me how much the pain really sucked. People said it hurt, or didn't say much at all, but no-one ever told me that it would hurt in the same way forcing a large, hard grapefruit through my perineum for 36 hours would hurt. And I wish someone had told me. Why? Because while it hurt like hell, the pain was totally normal, and more to the point-- the most important point of all-- totally doable. 

Labour hurts. Even with an epidural it can still hurt. It has to, because in order for the cervix to open and the baby to get pushed through the pelvis the muscles need to contract. This was the biggest headfuck of all: on one hand I wanted the pain to stop, but if the pain stopped my labour would cease to progress. So (with the gentle encouragement of my doula) I had to embrace the pain to keep things moving, will it to be so like some sadomasochistic wild women, and most importantly, trust that I could handle it.

And this, friends, is the most notable detail of all because as much as childbirth was one of the most difficult things I have ever done, I did it. And if I can do it, anyone can do it. Trust me.

So am I glad I squeezed my baby out the old fashioned way? 

Yes. 

While it was the most difficult thing I have ever done, it's also the most amazing and empowering thing I have ever done. The pleasure and awe I felt when the midwife passed my baby through my legs was unparalleled, and absolutely made the previous 36 hours worth every sucky second. I have never felt so alive and complete. I gave birth the way I wanted to on all fours in my own bed. I listened to the music I wanted to when I wanted to. I lit candles. I ate and drank when I wanted to. I took it one vagina splitting contraction at a time. I breathed, I moaned, and I repeated the same mantras over and over again...

I can do this.

I got this.

Oooooopen open open open open open...

So would I want to do it again?

Hell no.

If there is a next time, I'm getting a surrogate.

3) Patience is a Virtue

Did I mention my labour lasted thity six hours. THIRTY SIX HOURS. After twelve hours the midwife arrived to check my cervix only to tell me I was one centimeter dilated. You need to be ten centimeters dilated to deliver your baby. My words exactly:

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Labour can take some time ladies. Not for everyone, but for most women the body (and I'd argue spirit) needs time to open naturally and there 'aint shit you can do to hurry it up without pharmaceutical intervention, and even with pharmaceutical intervention it can still take a long time.

I really really wish someone had told me this because I seriously thought there was something wrong. If I knew my baby could take another day and a half to arrive, I would have popped that Gravol and Tylenol and tried to get some sleep, which indecently is OK in early labour, especially if you need some rest.

2)  The Cheering Squad

For God-sakes if you're going to have a baby, do yourself a favour and get a good doula and an experienced midwife. An amazing husband/ partner is also an asset if you're lucky enough to have one hanging around.

My cheering squad mopped my brow. They brought me buckets to puke in. My doula slept beside me on the floor on a rug (yes a rug!) as I groaned for endless hours on the couch. She sent my husband to bed when he was passing out on my yoga ball. She brought me cucumbers, and peanut butter on toast in bed after Jonah was born. 

Most importantly, when I wanted to give up (which was frequently) my cheering squad told me again and again that I could do this, and they really believed it. Eventually I started to believe it too.

3) Push it... Push it Real Good!

Every woman's experience is different, but I was most anxious about the final phase of labour: pushing.

I know women who have had two dozen stitches after episiotomies, who spent close to six hours pushing only to have forcep or suction interventions (and subsequent tearing) because the baby became distressed. I also couldn't mentally picture how something as big as a baby could fit out of something as small and dainty as my vagina, so you can understand my anxiety.

To my pleasant surprise, the pushing was the best part of labour. After thirty five and a half hours of  having no choice but to 'deal' with my contractions, I could finally do something about it. I was ready to party. 

I told my midwife I was afraid to tear. She held a warm cloth on my perineum and we took our time-- we eased the baby's head out little by little, and then I relaxed to gently stretch my skin. This was surprising easy to do with control because I was stone cold sober and could feel every inch my baby moved. Pretty cool!

I thought of an anecdote my friend told me about a woman's vagina's ability to stretch. She said that if a man's penis can stretch from one inch to eight (or more... ahem!) when he had an erection, why can't a woman's vagina do the same? Sound thinking I say! 

So I pushed and relaxed and visualized myself getting HUGE, and in half an hour Jonah slid out like a slippery fish. It honestly didn't hurt that much at all.

So if, like me, you're anxious... be not afraid! One way or the other baby will come out, and if like me you need a stitch afterwards you won't feel a damn thing. You'll be so high on baby love you won't give a shit what's going on down there.

So push it! Push it real good!

4) I Am Boob

Breastfeeding is a full time job. Seriously. It's exhausting. Jonah fed every one and a half to two hours for the first few weeks. Now he averages every two to three hours, give or take a few cluster feeds here and there. I walk around the house with my  boob hanging out because it just doesn't seem worth the effort to put it away. 

My husband is delighted, but I get tired and cranky and feel like milk truck most days. I totally get why some moms choose to formula feed. Although I never would, I will no longer pass judgement on those that do. Breastfeeding is tough work, but wholly worth it for the benefits to you and your baby if you can stick it out.

ALSO did you know that boob juice is good for more than just baby food? You can put it in our baby's eyes if they have blocked tear ducts, rub it on dry peeling skin, cradle cap or diaper rash. For adults it can help heal sunburns, wounds, cold sores... who knew!? 

5) Sleep is for the Weak

Babies are extremely loud sleepers. Mine sounds like a pterodactyl most nights. Nobody told me this would be the case, and I spent a good part of two weeks thinking he was dying. Between him and my husband's snoring, and waking up every 2 or so hours to feed, sleep has become a hot commodity in my life. My advice? Suck it up. Sleep is for the weak. At least this is what I tell myself when I do ridiculous things like put alfalfa sprouts in the freezer. It helps.

Of course it also helps to look after yourself and look after your partner. Some women drag their partners through the trenches to wake at every feeding and diaper change. I've decided to make sure my husband rests as much as possible at night. This means that at least one of us can get some shut eye, and has the added benefit of making him feel guilty so that he'll do anything I ask without complaining. 

It also means that when I'm at my wits end, he at least feels human enough to support me rather than breaking down with fatigue himself as I've seen many battle weary dads do.

Sleep will happen eventually. In the meantime I'm glad I spent much of my misspent youth keeping odd hours of the night. If you approach nursing your snorting infant to life with the same enthusiasm as partying until dawn, babies are non-stop good times.

I am Boob!