A long, looong overdue post

Hi. :}
Sorry about the extended absence. By way of simple explanation: my brain hurt. I was too tired to focus on writing anything coherent and, simultaneously, a little too worried about it. I felt myself worrying about updating my blog for all the wrong reasons - basically everything accept the original goal of keeping a sort of online baby book for myself and my son. So I gave myself a break until I got back to a place of wanting to post an update, not feeling like I had to.

We took a hike up by the Gibson Reservoir on Saturday - great day with my hubby and the puppies.

I'm 30 weeks! Sooooo crazy. 30 weeks and 3 days if we're being picky. I feel HUGE but am increasingly more and more ok with it - especially now that, thanks to my sister and wonderful friend Jaime, I have expanded my maternity wardrobe a bit.
Sleeping is, surprisingly, getting easier. I'm either just used to the discomfort or figuring out better positions for rest - possibly both. I get worn out easily (took a 30 minute light hike today, followed by an hour long nap) but the constant fatigue seems to be easing off a bit.
My son moves so, so, SO much. To be honest, some times it kind of grosses me out. Most times though, it's fun to be reminded of his presence in my day.
We have officially transferred care to the Birth Place in Bozeman with Stacey Haugland and will be going back for our second visit with her this Thursday morning. It feels really good to have found an avenue for my goal. Now, if everyone would just join me in the prayer that I make it past 36 weeks so I can deliver with her and have a nice, smoothly progressing labor so we can make the drive.... :) That would be greatly appreciated.
I'm more in love with my husband every day. This could be filed under "normal," "marriage," or "every day" but it seems appropriate in the baby blog, too. We are experiencing one of the most profound transformations of our lives - and we're doing it together. On this past Sunday - dubbed by my hubby "Sentimental Sunday" because he thinks he tends to think about things more on that day - Justin said to me, "I love you more and more the bigger your belly gets. It is a direct correlation." I smiled and asked him what would happen when the belly went away. He said simply, "It'll stay."

I am going to have some serious smile lines around my eyes when I'm older! :)

A Step in the Right Direction

(Alternately titled: The Dream is Still Alive)

Justin and I got up at 6 am (very early for a couple of people who very rarely go to bed before midnight or get up before 8:30/9) this past Wednesday morning to hit the road to Bozeman. We had two appointments to make before heading back to Helena in time for Justin to be at work by 2 pm. Two very important appointments with two different midwives at two separate birthing centers – because I haven’t given up yet on my goal of an out-of-hospitalbirth.

I mentioned before that there are currently no midwives in my town that will deliver at home. There are midwives in neighboring towns that are willing to travel to Helena to attend a birth, but my husband has never been super thrilled with the idea, and frankly, considering we’re due in December in Montana, it sounds less than ideal to me, too. December typically isn’t a very severe storm month, but you just never know. And when the roads around here are bad, they’re just plain nasty. So when the idea first came up that we drive to Bozeman to deliver in a birth center, I was pretty quick to dismiss it. Justin, however, was surprisingly ok with the prospect. I gave him a hard time. “So, you’re worried that a midwife might not make it to Helena because of bad roads, but you want to drive your laboring wife an hour and a half to Bozeman??”

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug.

So I thought about it. And I met up with a girlfriend who just delivered a beautiful baby girl in one of the birth centers in Bozeman. Her water birth story was beautiful. “A labor that had more hours than a marathon has miles,” as her adoring husband put it, and she had been a warrior. And the midwife and birth team sounded like exactly what I was looking for. “But,” I told myself, “Mary was due in August.” Despite the fact that my timing was presenting a slightly larger challenge, I decided that at the very least I wanted to meet the midwives. See the birth centers. Ask as many questions as I could think of. And I wanted Justin to go, too. So I got lucky, was able to make two appointments for the same morning, and if all went well, Justin wouldn’t have to miss work.

The drive was gorgeous. Can I just tell you, I love my state. Driving east into the sunrise sits at the top of my list of Best Ways to Start a Day.

We got to Bozeman in an hour and twenty minutes – really good time. The road construction is easing up for the year (people often say of Montana that it has two seasons: winter and road construction) and we were lucky never to get stuck behind a tractor or one of the many other kinds of farming equipment that often travel along that road. We even had time for Justin to get a second cup o’ joe in Bozeman before we headed to our first appointment at The Birth Center.

What a serene environment! Something like a yoga studio or good day spa, but instead of a massage table and steam room you find a birthing tub and a European stall shower with a fold down bench large enough to house mom, dad, midwife, and doula. The staff was warm and welcoming, and all in all The Birth Center felt like a dream birthing environment. Mikelann, the main midwife in the practice, met with us and did a brief “meet the baby” exam. She was able to tell me exactly how he was situated just by prodding at my belly. It was really neat being able to follow her hands and know, “This is my son’s head, this is his butt – he he – there are his feet.” So cool.

Unfortunately, there were some major concerns about whether or not our insurance would cover the (flat rate and very reasonable!) fee at The Birth Center and, reasonable though it was, it represents a much larger amount out of pocket for us then we would be paying in a hospital setting.

A little unsure  of ourselves and our options (did we have any?), we left with time for a quick breakfast (Main St. Overeasy – yummy!) before heading over to The Birth Place to meet Stacey. We took the tour – another glorious birthing suite with a wonderfully large birthing tub. A much smaller shower, but really, I don’t imagine myself spending too much time in there when there is a tub available. Another round of questions. Another run down of what’s and how to’s.

But the the thing worth mentioning about The Birth Place is Stacey herself. Her demeanor immediately put both of us at ease. When Justin had financial questions (my ever so practical husband worries about these things pretty constantly) she answered them directly and professionally. We run a test claim – simple as that – to see what the insurance will cover, and we go from there.

And then something really amazing happened. She asked me to describe my ideal birth story. At first, I was stumped. I knew a lot about what I didn’t want, but hadn’t thought much about what I did want. I sputtered out an answer about wanting to allow my body to do what I trust it to be capable of doing. That’s all I could think of. I just want to let my body do what it has to. But as she commented on the wisdom of that plan, it hit me. No. There is something I want. Desperately. Something I had been clinging to but was almost afraid to talk about until now. I had been protecting it, holding it close so no one could take it from me. I want to hold my baby. Right away. I want him on my chest and I want to keep him there. I don’t want anyone to take him from me to weigh our measure our otherwise test. As I told Stacey this, I started to cry. Even now, I am tearing up a bit. The thought of that moment – the promise of the feel of my son’s skin against my own – is the one that is going to get me through these last few months and the trials of labor. I need it, and so does he. I wept a little as Stacey told me that, as long as baby is doing well, she guards that time fiercely. For as long as it takes for him to initiate breast feeding, which he should do instinctively if we let him.

And with that, I was sold.

We left The Birth Place knowing we would try to figure out a way to have our son there.

There are logistical details to be worked out, to be sure. But we will work them out. After knowing what I can have, there is no way I’m going back.

The picture is from a little over two weeks ago - I was 24 weeks at the time. Trying to be better about posting belly pictures!

Upset, but motivated

It’s 7:04 in the morning and I’ve been awake for a long time now. I laid awake for a good portion of the night last night, and for the periods when I did sleep, I dreamt dreams much more disturbing than the thoughts that were keeping me up in the first place.

I watched the film Pregnant in America last night. It was the second documentary of its kind that I had seen in the past few months – the first was The Business of Being Born.

I have always known that I wanted to have my kids at home but couldn’t have given you much of a reason if you had asked me six months ago. Mom had all three of us at home, and I think of her as somewhat of a mothering superhero, so that’s definitely where the desire started. Beyond that, I might have been able to tell you that it just seemed like it would be more comfortable to be at home. That was all the thought I had really put into the why of it all.

Now that this period in my life has finally arrived – now that there is this tiny little life growing inside of me that I am responsible for – I am simultaneously finding that option being removed from me and discovering the many reasons why I truly believe it is the better choice.

I feel so stuck.

There are no midwives in my town who will deliver at home. There are no birthing centers. Up to this point in my pregnancy, I have been seeing a Certified Nurse Midwife who delivers in hospital. Before moving on, let me be clear that I think she is wonderful, she attended all three of my nieces’ births, and she is not a source of concern for me. She does a pretty good job of advocating for a more natural experience (we have already established that if I am keeping down liquids myself, I do not need to be automatically stuck with an I.V. as my sister was).I only wish she had decided to attend at home births. Because it’s the hospital she works within that I’m worried about. It’s the nurses who push you to take the epidural. It’s the bright fluorescent lights. It’s the higher risk of c-section. It’s the nurses who whisk your baby away to weigh, measure, test, poke, and prod when you should be holding them, sharing your first moments, basking in a hormone rush, bonding and falling in love with the new little life. (I won’t preach at you here with all the evidence that leaded me to believe strongly in the value of at home births, but I highly recommend looking into it for yourself. These two documentaries are a good place to start.)

I want to experience the miracle of the birth of my first child in all its fullness. I want it so badly it aches inside me the way the desire to be a mother ached within me just months ago.

I do not want to be robbed.

And I am terrified that I will be.

There are two midwives within two hours of here, both of whom are willing to travel to attend births. At first, I dismissed the idea as unreasonable in the middle of December in Montana. But now I’m not sure which option is the truly ill-advised one. I’ve decided to at least meet with them and discuss our options.

There have been these moments since I found out I was pregnant that I feel more like a little kid than I have since I moved out of my parents’ house seven years ago. I feel so awe-struck and giddy by the whole thing that I feel childish. And, being my first pregnancy, I look to the women around me who have already triumphed through their pregnancies. And I value their advice, truly I do. But all of this advice taking, with no ill intention on either side, can make you feel small, make you feel inadequate, can make you believe you lack the maturity to make these decisions alone. But now, more than any other time in my life, I have to step up. I do not get the luxury of being the child anymore. Nor do I want it. And if I allow my family to get swept along in a system I feel uncomfortable with – without doing everything in my power to fight for what I believe to be the better option – what sort of start is that for our life? What sort of example does that set?