Sunday, October 5, 2008
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Ring Sling Giveaway
I recently purchased some beautiful, natural colored, linen/rayon fabric with the intention of sewing myself a sling. Since I can easily make two slings with the fabric I have (each will be 30 inches wide), I thought it would be fun to make another to give away.
Leave me a comment to enter yourself into this giveaway, and I will randomly select the winner next Sunday evening.
The winner will get to choose the color of the rings and thread (the fabric is a neutral light tan/khaki color), and should receive their sling within a week of being chosen. You also don't have to live locally to enter -- I'll just put it in the mail.
Good luck!
PS: This type of sling could be used with a child up to about 35 pounds, so you don't have to have a tiny baby to enter.
Leave me a comment to enter yourself into this giveaway, and I will randomly select the winner next Sunday evening.
The winner will get to choose the color of the rings and thread (the fabric is a neutral light tan/khaki color), and should receive their sling within a week of being chosen. You also don't have to live locally to enter -- I'll just put it in the mail.
Good luck!
PS: This type of sling could be used with a child up to about 35 pounds, so you don't have to have a tiny baby to enter.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Things to Ponder
I just got done watching the trailer for The Other Side of the Glass, a movie that is geared towards empowering fathers to preserve their baby's space after birth. It was pretty mind blowing.
I think sometimes we are geared to think that things are a certain way, just because that is how it has always been. If we have a baby in the hospital, such and such will happen. If we have a baby at home, so and so will happen. We forget, sometimes, that just as we have rights that should be honored, our newborn babies also deserve those same protections.
It is difficult at the very end of birth for the mother to be able to totally advocate for herself and her child. Sometimes she is experiencing her own interventions that can take away her ability to totally focus on her baby (placental delivery, stitches, c-section, anesthesia, etc.), and this is why she totally and completely depends on her birth partner to watch over her newborn's safe-keeping. I don't think that most fathers are equipped to advocate for their child. It can be intimidating to stand up to or question those we consider professionals.
I know some people will watch the trailer and think of their own birth experiences (I know I did). You may feel that the interventions that your baby experienced after birth were necessary or that they caused no ill effects. Watching the video may cause you to relive your own and your baby's birth trauma. For me, the trailer reminded me that babies, in utero and freshly birthed, are sentient. They are individuals with a brain and a heart and a soul. They have awareness and memory. They should be treated with tender hands, soft voices, and with respect.
Now go watch the trailer and tell me what you think.
I think sometimes we are geared to think that things are a certain way, just because that is how it has always been. If we have a baby in the hospital, such and such will happen. If we have a baby at home, so and so will happen. We forget, sometimes, that just as we have rights that should be honored, our newborn babies also deserve those same protections.
It is difficult at the very end of birth for the mother to be able to totally advocate for herself and her child. Sometimes she is experiencing her own interventions that can take away her ability to totally focus on her baby (placental delivery, stitches, c-section, anesthesia, etc.), and this is why she totally and completely depends on her birth partner to watch over her newborn's safe-keeping. I don't think that most fathers are equipped to advocate for their child. It can be intimidating to stand up to or question those we consider professionals.
I know some people will watch the trailer and think of their own birth experiences (I know I did). You may feel that the interventions that your baby experienced after birth were necessary or that they caused no ill effects. Watching the video may cause you to relive your own and your baby's birth trauma. For me, the trailer reminded me that babies, in utero and freshly birthed, are sentient. They are individuals with a brain and a heart and a soul. They have awareness and memory. They should be treated with tender hands, soft voices, and with respect.
Now go watch the trailer and tell me what you think.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Due Before December?
I am trying to achieve DONA certification before the beginning of the year and would love to attend two births in November/December. If you are due during that time, and would like to have support of a doula, please email me for information. I am offering my services for FREE!
Friday, August 29, 2008
Worried About a Big Baby?
Like many women, I've watched my share of pregnancy/birth shows (like A Baby Story), and recently I've noticed that many of the moms are told at some point towards the end of their pregnancy that they could possibly have a "big" baby and should consider induction. Having a larger than normal baby can be some women's biggest fears when it comes to childbirth.
The difficulty lies in the idea that there is no way of truly knowing how big a baby will be at birth. Fundal height measurements are affected by amniotic fluid levels, baby's position and mother's body. Ultrasounds have not proven completely accurate in measuring how big a baby actually is. Even a skilled practitioner cannot be totally sure of a baby's size by palpitation (although some really like to try and guess).
I think the key to a healthy and happy birth is truly accepting the idea that women's bodies are designed to give birth. We will grow a baby that is the perfect size for us. The greatest majority of the time, all will be well with our labor and delivery if we trust our bodies to do what they are made to do without interference.
If you would like to do further reading on the subject, check out this wonderful article by a very experienced birth doula.
The difficulty lies in the idea that there is no way of truly knowing how big a baby will be at birth. Fundal height measurements are affected by amniotic fluid levels, baby's position and mother's body. Ultrasounds have not proven completely accurate in measuring how big a baby actually is. Even a skilled practitioner cannot be totally sure of a baby's size by palpitation (although some really like to try and guess).
I think the key to a healthy and happy birth is truly accepting the idea that women's bodies are designed to give birth. We will grow a baby that is the perfect size for us. The greatest majority of the time, all will be well with our labor and delivery if we trust our bodies to do what they are made to do without interference.
If you would like to do further reading on the subject, check out this wonderful article by a very experienced birth doula.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Sam's Birth Story, Part V -- Birth
When Pam told me she was concerned about the blood she was seeing and that she wanted me to get serious about pushing, I wasn't concerned. I was so inside of myself, overwhelmed with the intensity of what I was feeling, that what she said didn't worry me. I knew that everything was going to be okay.
As the next contraction started to build, I started to push. Hard. It was the strangest feeling -- almost like I was pushing against a brick wall. It felt like this baby wasn't budging a bit, and remembering that no one had checked my cervix to tell me that I was fully dilated (I was operating on instinct), I wondered if my sense was correct. Maybe my body wasn't ready yet. No sooner had that thought crossed my mind, then I felt an explosion. I had pushed the baby's head out without even realizing that I was crowning. I wouldn't have even known that the head was out if somebody (I don't know who) hadn't said something. Being in the water took away all of those "ring of fire" sensations that I was expecting. It was amazing.
Pamela and Lennon reached across to unloop the cord from around the baby's neck. This is the part that I wasn't aware of until I saw pictures. My back was to everyone and I had no idea anyone even came near me (shows how good they are at their job). With another small push, the baby shot out towards the other end of the pool, totally under the water, and Lennon reached in and "swooshed" the baby back through my legs so I could pick him up.I reached down and pulled him up by the armpits, and held him to my chest. I was in awe. I was finally able to open my eyes to look up and see my family gathered on my bed. Mike and John were smiling; my mom was crying; Stacey, Lennon and Pamela looked so supportive. I was filled with love. Love for this new little boy I was holding against me, and love for my family and friends that were able to share the experience with me. I don't really think I can find the right words to describe that moment with any accuracy. Just filled with joy.
Cradling him in my hands, I held him out so I could have a look at him. He wasn't moving at all or making any noises. For a moment I was worried something was wrong, but right then he brought his arm to his face and let out a little coo. He never cried. He kept his eyes closed, and to me it seemed like he must have slept through most of labor because he really acted like he was asleep. I studied his faced wondering who he looked like, and noticing his nose first, I announced that he looked like Charlie. He was perfect.
Pretty quickly Lennon had me get out of the pool to sit on the birth stool to await the delivery of my placenta. She wanted to better be able to monitor my blood loss. Even though labor was over, I was continuing to have contractions and cramping, as my uterus was clamping down, trying to do the last of its work. This was not fun. I wanted to just hop in bed and cuddle with my baby, but instead I was squatting on a very low stool that resembled a toilet seat while holding my baby. Someone helped me take of my swimsuit top and wrapped me in a towel so I could keep Sam warm. After a half-hour of waiting, I got impatient, and Lennon did a little cord traction to see if the placenta was sitting right there, but it stayed put for the time being. Finally, after another fifteen minutes (45 minutes total), the placenta plopped out into a metal bowl after a little push from me. My pesky placenta and I were finally face to face, and I could care less. I was ready to get cleaned up and get into bed.
Stacey and Lennon washed me from the waist down and checked for tears, all while little Sam was in bed with me. After pushing so hard, and not very carefully, I fully expected to need some stitches. Amazingly, I only had a very superficial first-degree tear that did not require stitching. As they were working on me, I was able to put Sam to my breast and he latched right on. His eyes were open wide and he just stared at me while he nursed. It is my favorite memory of the birth. I felt so bonded to him. While he was nursing I could hear that Charlie was up too, and I could hear him laughing and playing with Mike and John.
Lennon weighed Sam right next to me on the bed. He was seven pounds, two ounces -- my smallest baby by nearly a pound. After he was weighed Lennon asked me if I would like to dress Sam, but I was too tired so I asked her if she would do it. She dressed him in a little nightgown that I had picked out and set aside several weeks before he was born. Pamela came in and washed my face with a cool washcloth, and it felt like heaven. I was so hot. I got up and put on a clean t-shirt and climbed back into bed.
Soon, Stacey, Lennon and Pamela made their way home. They would be back the next day to check on me. My mom and Mike settled down the kids and got them ready for bed. Slowly, the house became quiet and dark and Sam and I snuggled into my bed together, mother and baby son. It took me a long time to fall asleep. My mind was full of memories of the last 48 hours, amazed at how perfectly things had turned out despite my worries and fears. Looking down at this new little boy, I felt a strong sense of completion. We had our three boys: John, Charlie, and Sam, the children I felt that we were meant to have.
Finally, as the night sky started to glow with the sun's first light, I fell into an exhausted (and sweaty) sleep, holding the sweetest smelling baby in my arms.
As the next contraction started to build, I started to push. Hard. It was the strangest feeling -- almost like I was pushing against a brick wall. It felt like this baby wasn't budging a bit, and remembering that no one had checked my cervix to tell me that I was fully dilated (I was operating on instinct), I wondered if my sense was correct. Maybe my body wasn't ready yet. No sooner had that thought crossed my mind, then I felt an explosion. I had pushed the baby's head out without even realizing that I was crowning. I wouldn't have even known that the head was out if somebody (I don't know who) hadn't said something. Being in the water took away all of those "ring of fire" sensations that I was expecting. It was amazing.
Pamela and Lennon reached across to unloop the cord from around the baby's neck. This is the part that I wasn't aware of until I saw pictures. My back was to everyone and I had no idea anyone even came near me (shows how good they are at their job). With another small push, the baby shot out towards the other end of the pool, totally under the water, and Lennon reached in and "swooshed" the baby back through my legs so I could pick him up.I reached down and pulled him up by the armpits, and held him to my chest. I was in awe. I was finally able to open my eyes to look up and see my family gathered on my bed. Mike and John were smiling; my mom was crying; Stacey, Lennon and Pamela looked so supportive. I was filled with love. Love for this new little boy I was holding against me, and love for my family and friends that were able to share the experience with me. I don't really think I can find the right words to describe that moment with any accuracy. Just filled with joy.
Cradling him in my hands, I held him out so I could have a look at him. He wasn't moving at all or making any noises. For a moment I was worried something was wrong, but right then he brought his arm to his face and let out a little coo. He never cried. He kept his eyes closed, and to me it seemed like he must have slept through most of labor because he really acted like he was asleep. I studied his faced wondering who he looked like, and noticing his nose first, I announced that he looked like Charlie. He was perfect.
Pretty quickly Lennon had me get out of the pool to sit on the birth stool to await the delivery of my placenta. She wanted to better be able to monitor my blood loss. Even though labor was over, I was continuing to have contractions and cramping, as my uterus was clamping down, trying to do the last of its work. This was not fun. I wanted to just hop in bed and cuddle with my baby, but instead I was squatting on a very low stool that resembled a toilet seat while holding my baby. Someone helped me take of my swimsuit top and wrapped me in a towel so I could keep Sam warm. After a half-hour of waiting, I got impatient, and Lennon did a little cord traction to see if the placenta was sitting right there, but it stayed put for the time being. Finally, after another fifteen minutes (45 minutes total), the placenta plopped out into a metal bowl after a little push from me. My pesky placenta and I were finally face to face, and I could care less. I was ready to get cleaned up and get into bed.
Stacey and Lennon washed me from the waist down and checked for tears, all while little Sam was in bed with me. After pushing so hard, and not very carefully, I fully expected to need some stitches. Amazingly, I only had a very superficial first-degree tear that did not require stitching. As they were working on me, I was able to put Sam to my breast and he latched right on. His eyes were open wide and he just stared at me while he nursed. It is my favorite memory of the birth. I felt so bonded to him. While he was nursing I could hear that Charlie was up too, and I could hear him laughing and playing with Mike and John.
Lennon weighed Sam right next to me on the bed. He was seven pounds, two ounces -- my smallest baby by nearly a pound. After he was weighed Lennon asked me if I would like to dress Sam, but I was too tired so I asked her if she would do it. She dressed him in a little nightgown that I had picked out and set aside several weeks before he was born. Pamela came in and washed my face with a cool washcloth, and it felt like heaven. I was so hot. I got up and put on a clean t-shirt and climbed back into bed.
Soon, Stacey, Lennon and Pamela made their way home. They would be back the next day to check on me. My mom and Mike settled down the kids and got them ready for bed. Slowly, the house became quiet and dark and Sam and I snuggled into my bed together, mother and baby son. It took me a long time to fall asleep. My mind was full of memories of the last 48 hours, amazed at how perfectly things had turned out despite my worries and fears. Looking down at this new little boy, I felt a strong sense of completion. We had our three boys: John, Charlie, and Sam, the children I felt that we were meant to have.
Finally, as the night sky started to glow with the sun's first light, I fell into an exhausted (and sweaty) sleep, holding the sweetest smelling baby in my arms.
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