The last few weeks have been a golden blur. It’s been so nice to have Jake home on parental leave, spending time as a family of four and adjusting to the new routines.
Sunset storm and rainbow
Michael has embraced being a big brother with enthusiasm. He loves helping burp Baby Bea, and every time she cries he emphatically tells me she “needs more nurses”.
He recently learned about middle names, and enthusiastically calls Beatrice “Baby Margaret Marie”, leaving off her first name. We’re trying hard to correct him, given he has a cousin Margaret. Thankfully, his favorite moniker for her remains “Baby Bea!”
Adjusting to having a baby sister hasn’t been perfectly easy for him, but he’s been an absolute trooper with all the upheaval to his regular routine. He’s especially loved spending the extra time with Dad: in the garden, perusing Home Depot, playing with power tools, lots of outside time, and even learning to play tee ball with the help of a dear family friend!
Beatrice had her first pediatrician appointment, and is a rosy 9 pounds even, with a clean bill of health. It was slightly humorous (and vexing) to explain to receptionists over the phone that she was born at home: we still received concerned several follow up calls even after explaining multiple times that no, she wasn’t born at a hospital, and yes, we meant to have a home birth, and yes, she’s been under the daily/weekly care of a certified midwife who is trained in all newborn basic medical needs (weight gain, vitamin K shot, jaundice, etc) so no, we don’t need to rush to the nearest doctor to get her checked out and no, we aren’t being negligent.
Despite midwifery being a standard of care in many/most developed countries, you’d think I’d decided to give birth on an alien ship with the way they reacted.
Jake weighing Bea with our midwife at her 2 week appt
We’ve been making slow progress on our garden (and by we, I mean Jake while I ask nicely and direct from the sidelines nursing a baby). We’ve laid down a pad of pea gravel so we can have our grill and patio furniture on something a bit more level and stable than our native grasses.
I’m looking forward to having meals there in the summer evenings: hopefully some homegrown dinners! My plants are growing well — broccoli, onions, arugula, strawberries, and tomatoes are all thriving, though my beans are struggling due to the wind and odd weather we’ve been having. I’m hoping to add peppers and cucumbers to the mix soon.
I’ve made more time for knitting, too: I knit my midwife a small lace table linen/doily as a thank you for all that she’s done. I couldn’t help but think the lace motif looked a bit like the “tree of life” in a placenta as I made it. I also chose a special yarn for it, as well: a color that matches her practice’s logo, a deep purple titled “sabiduria” or “wisdom”. It seemed especially fitting, given the ancient wisdom of her craft she practiced on me with such care.
I also made a pair of Calendula Pants for little Miss Beatrice. The pattern was so beautiful and simple that I want to make ten more of them!
I’ve been reading more (thanks middle of the night cluster feeding). I finished Tower of Dawn from the Throne of Glass series, and am now on the last book in the series, Kingdom of Ash. My TBR (to be read) list for 2024 is ever growing. If you’ve read anything good, especially in the realm of speculative fiction (sci-fi/fantasy) or Orthodox/Catholic theology, let me know! I want to focus on reading more — my goal is to read 50 books this year. Goodreads tells me I’m already 8 books behind on my goal, but I’ll catch up soon.
This postpartum has looked quite different for me. I’ve been moving much more slowly, listening to the wisdom of my midwife, leaning on my community for help, and being cautious with exertion and movement as my body heals from pregnancy and birth. I am so grateful for the resources I have that allow me to rest and recover, and this experience has only solidified my opinion that every mother deserves this time of rest and healing. But I’ve also had to work through feelings of intense guilt: I have these incredible resources that many do not have, so why is this still difficult? Why do I still struggle? Am I lazy or weaker because I have these resources and am using them?
For my dear Protestant and Catholic friends, this weekend is Easter, and this past Thursday was Maundy Thursday. I’ve seen some beautiful meditations on Jesus washing His disciples’ feet. It’s made me ponder the difficulty of accepting the service of another, particularly of people we love and honor. I must admit, I’ve felt like Peter for much of this postpartum period: embarrassed that people I respect and love dearly are helping me take care of basic, humble needs.
It’s hard and humbling to allow myself to be cared for and to rest. To ask for help with meals from my church community. To listen when my midwife says wait to do household chores or gardening or lifting my toddler for the health of my abs and pelvic floor. To confide in family and close friends when postpartum anxiety clouds my vision.
A common greeting in Orthodox Christianity is “Christ is in our midst!”, with the response, “He is and ever shall be!”. There are many beautiful nuances to this call and response, including the reminder that the Church is Christ’s Bride; Christ’s Body.
We are made for community. We encounter Christ in other people. By serving others, we serve Christ. And by resting and accepting help, we let Christ wash our feet; we accept Him in our midst.
In a society that idolizes isolation and productivity to the detriment of all else, it is an act of strength and rebellion to choose community and rest. And now, with no bleeding and more strength in my body and mind than I’ve had in over nine months: I understand its power a little bit better.
Our family’s newest addition arrived last week: Beatrice Margaret Marie.
We are beyond smitten with her. She’s a quiet yet intense baby with a fiery cry and uncanny alertness. And a champion eater.
I am so grateful for how the Church cherishes new mothers and their babies. The day after her birth, our priest came to say the prayers on the first day after a woman has given birth to a child.
O Lord Jesus Christ our God, who wast born of our immaculate Lady Theotokos and ever-virgin Mary, and didst in the manger as a child and appeared as a suckling: Do Thou have mercy upon this handmaid, who hath now given birth, and preserve her by Thy strong arm; forgive her every sin both voluntary and involuntary, cleanse her from all stain, heal her every pain, and grant health and strength to her soul and body. Surround her with joyous angels of light, and guard her from all evil; preserve her from every jealous eye, and have mercy upon her according to Thy great mercy, and raise her up in loving kindness. And do Thou, O Lord, protect the child to whom she hath given birth; preserve him from all sickness and accident, from evil by day or by night, and from every snare of the adversary, and bestow upon him Thine heavenly benediction. And grant, O Lord, that this Thy handmaid and the child born of her may come to adore Thee in Thine holy temple in due season, for all glory, honor, and worship are due unto Thee: to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, now and ever and unto ages of ages. Amen.
And today, on the eighth day, our priest will come back again to pray the naming prayers over her.
I am listening to the advice of my midwife and the recommendation of the church to rest as much as possible: I’ve barely left the bed, prioritizing healing, prayer, and rest of body, soul, and spirit.
I wrote out her birth story for those who are interested — I love reading birth stories and find them beautiful and fascinating. Feel free to skim or skip if this sort of thing makes you squirm, however. There are a few pictures as well.
After a lot of discussion, Jake and I decided we were going to have a home birth with this baby, if all remained healthy and normal with the pregnancy. Our nearest birthing center was an hour away, and my experience in the local hospital with Michael had been more traumatic than I had realized at the time. This time, I desperately wanted bodily autonomy, providers who would ask or explain before touching me or intervening, listen to me when I talked about my body/pain, and an environment where I felt safe.
We found an amazing midwife in Sacramento who listened to my concerns, shared my beliefs on the balance between holistic and modern medicines, and was very knowledgable and experienced. I also found a doula who was kind and amazing and would provide the support we needed during labor.
As March arrived, I had settled into thinking that I would definitely reach my due date of March 13th, or maybe even go past it. The ladies at my church threw an incredible baby shower for me on Sunday the 3rd. I wasn’t able to have a baby shower for Michael with my church because he was induced early and we had a major COVID surge right after his birth, and I was so touched they were determined to make sure our baby girl had one. I waved away comments of “any day now” with a laugh, mentioning how stagnant I felt and how I’d had no symptoms of labor approaching. I thought baby girl was in it for the long haul.
One of the women who put the shower together had joked that Sunday night I was allowed to go into labor, but not before! We needed to have this baby shower!
And Sunday night, I began to feel light, irregular cramps.
Monday (38 weeks and 5 days) the cramps continued throughout the day, though as evening came on they became a bit more regular. I passed more mucus, and some bloody show. My midwife said that could mean things were getting started or would start within the next 24 hours. I also knew that they could be false alarms and I could be pregnant for days still. I went to bed early, just in case things might actually be serious.
Turns out that was a good thing. Tuesday morning, the cramps were still coming, now at more regular intervals. Jake went out to work for a little in the morning while Michael and I ate breakfast and cuddled on the couch. My mom went to work, and my dad took Michael for the day so I could rest. I was starting to believe I might be in the early stages of labor, but I could still move and talk through the cramps without problem, so I figured maybe things would ramp up over the next few days. Jake came in from his office to work from his laptop and help me time contractions, and I laid down next to him and rested. I took a shower and got into comfy clothes. We were texting with our doula and midwife all this time. Contractions were coming regularly now, every 5-7 minutes and lasting for about a minute. I could still move and talk through them without issue, so no one was really concerned about how close together they were. I told my cousin not to take the day off work, because I was sure it wasn’t going to happen today (sorry Kelsey…we’ll know better next time).
We walked down to my parents’ house to check on Michael and my dad around 1 pm. My mom had just come home from work early after Jake updated her on my stats: she said she had a gut feeling she’d need to be here, at least to rest to help with labor whenever it came. I’m glad she listened to her gut. We talked and walked around outside with Michael by the chicken coop. I had a few more contractions where I just leaned on Jake and paused a moment before continuing on, then we went back home and laid down.
We watched Fr Brown murder mysteries on a laptop in bed, pausing it every time I had a contraction. The doula called to check in and suggested I move positions, so I tried a contraction in an inversion position. We then called the midwife to let her know how consistent things were at that time (5 min apart, 1 minute long, for about 2 hours now). The contractions had definitely gotten stronger, but I was still standing and breathing through them and had energy. They started to come more frequently after the inversion. Our midwife suggested I take a shower to relax and cope and she’d head over to check things out soon. I was still in denial. My only experience with labor was Pitocin contractions, but these ebbed and flowed — the peak intensity lasted only a few seconds. I figured I had a lot more intensity ahead of me before I should call people to come over.
As soon as I got in the shower, the contractions became more intense and closer together (2-3 minutes). It took more focus now to breathe through them instead of brace against them. So at 3:30 pm, I finally told Jake to assemble our birthing avengers — we had talked about the possibility I could be “in denial” when labor came…I hadn’t fully accepted this was actually “real” labor until now.
Taken a few hours after birth
Our doula arrived quickly by 3:40 since she lives close by, and watched me through a few of these more intense contractions. I laid on the bed for a little, covering my eyes, praying, and listening to some of my birthing playlist. She was amazing, helping me remember to release tension and breathe slowly as the contractions ramped up. The intensity began to build, and it took all my focus to let them ebb and flow.
They began trying to inflate the birth tub, but by then I think everyone knew there was no way we were getting it set up and filled before things escalated. I hadn’t been fixed on the concept of a birth tub anyway. What was most important to me was autonomy: being able to move and cope and push listening to my body.
Our midwife was still 50 minutes away, given it was 4 pm and the wrong direction for rush hour.
I switched to my hands and knees on our bed, leaning against Jake’s shoulder, and began to vocalize through the contractions. I call this my “mooing stage”. Intentionally making deep, opened mouth noises helped me focus my energy and keep my face relaxed. This is where I really went into “labor land” and was entirely focused on laboring, missing almost everything that was going on around me.
Our doula realized I was closer to transition than most of had thought, and did amazingly making sure we had all the supplies ready for the midwives, and prepping mom and Jake in case the midwives didn’t make it in time. Somehow, they got pads and towels around and under me (since we hadn’t even prepped the bed for birth yet). The assistant midwife arrived at 4:50 pm, and our midwife arrived about ten minutes later.
At this point, the mooing stage was now “roaring stage”, or as my mother put it, a Celtic war cry. And I was definitely in transition. Many unmedicated birth preparations talk about transition as the moment where the mother has moments of doubt. I had started to think maybe I couldn’t do this because it was so intense. Then I remembered what people said about transition and in my mind, I was like, “you got to go a bit farther before you feel like you can give up — wait til transition and then you can say you can’t do this”. I was still in denial that I was as far progressed as I was.
I could feel her head descending in my pelvis. My midwife helped me shift one leg up into runner’s start position to give her more room to navigate the pelvis. I didn’t want to push, afraid of tearing like last time — I instead focused on having the roars channel my contractions downwards. I briefly felt the “ring of fire” as she crowned, but pressure from her head overrode the sensation and it eased as my midwife applied counter pressure. I felt her head emerge and reached down and touched it. Her shoulders and body came with the next few roars, and, at 5:14 pm, Beatrice Margaret Marie was born. She made, as Jake said, a squawk of indignation directly after she arrived, but otherwise no crying at all. I will never forget looking down and seeing her wide awake face staring back at me as they immediately passed her between my legs and into my arms.
I spent a blissful golden hour with her in my arms — I passed the placenta without an issue about fifteen minutes later. They gave me a shot of Pitocin as my bleeding was a bit heavy, but I had no tearing at all. We didn’t get her stats until more than an hour after birth, because she was laying on my chest while I rested and my amazing birth team took care of me. She was 6 lbs 13 oz, and 21.5 inches long, with a 13 inch head. And, an overachiever: she passed meconium three times with the first two hours, and peed once. She also latched as soon as possible and spent much of the first night cluster feeding. And when weighed for the second time after birth, instead of losing weight, she’d gained a quarter pound.
Jake cutting the cord
This birth experience was everything I needed, and more. I hadn’t fully realized how difficult and frankly traumatic Michael’s birth experience had been for me. Between the epidural brushing a nerve on insertion and wearing off during transition (I now say confidently, having had an unmedicated birth), not having a choice about pushing on my back, the perinatal/postpartum depression, and a handful of other factors I recounted in his birth story, it was a rough experience. In comparison, the nurturing care of both my doula and my midwife and her assistant was incredible. The gentleness and respect in how they treated me was enormous: asking or explaining before every time they touched me, no cervical checks, belly binding, herbs to help my healing, showing me how to properly rest and move my postpartum body.
This birth restored my confidence in my voice, my body, and my strength and capability. And to top it off, it was cheaper than the hospital birth. I am beyond grateful for the experience. The entire thing felt holy, and we’re all still resting in the golden glow of it days later.
five acres four generations 