Sometimes birth is hard. Sometimes it goes as planned and sometimes it doesn’t and when it doesn’t I don’t think there is any amount of preparation that can make you ready for it. I was ready for the unplanned, as ready as I could be while still having a plan at least. When things went differently though, it was still hard for me. Processing events like birth is hard. That's the place that I am at.
I have been saying for a while now that my birth story would be going up soon, and I’ve been working on it. It’s long, probably entirely longer than it should be and that’s just part one...and I think that I’m having trouble finishing it because I struggle with the way that it ended. Now, that’s not to say I’m unhappy or ungreatful. I got a healthy baby at the end of it, my family surrounded me through it and there were most definitely moments of beauty, and moments of power, but there were also moments of fear, there were moments of trauma and even though I didn’t end up with a c-section, I still find myself wondering: did I actually do it?
After a labor that progressed VERY quickly and pleasantly at home (my midwife was only for two hours before I began pushing) we decided to transfer to the hospital. Once there Tzeitel Anna was came into this world via vacuum delivery. There was nothing imminent at that point. She was fine, and when she was born she was 7 pounds 4 ounces, cried immediately and initiated nursing within minutes, but they still didn't give my body time to do what it could, and even though I got most of the way there and did everything I could to give my daughter the best start at life possible, I still couldn't do it by myself. Or at least that's how I feel now.
I wish I could go back and do more. I keep thinking, maybe if I had actively pushed instead of just letting my body do the work, or maybe if I had gone to the chiropractor more, drank more red raspberry leaf tea or even reached out for help, regardless of the fact that I was coping fine. I keep thinking, maybe if I would have done this or that, but the fact of the matter is, I can't go back, so I will never know.
In a way I feel broken. Broken because I was so confident in my body and my ability as a woman to do it. To do what billions of women have been doing for years. I don't think I have ever been so confident in my body before...and when it didn't work the way I was certain it would...and when they did all of the things at the hospital that I had actively tried so hard to avoid, I had a hard time. It felt unwarranted, it felt invasive, and forced, for me it was traumatic.
Through the trama though, good things still came. At home I got to hold my dog between contractions. I labored in the way only a true band geek would, on top of my euphonium case, bracing myself against it for support. I learned that the power and pain of labor IS manageable and I can manage it. I had the most wonderful midwife I could ever imagine and a birth photographer who captured the moments that WERE joyful. My family rallied around me in support. I don't think I would have made it through without them. Ryan stood up for me in a way that I have never been stood up for before and when I looked over at him, just after our little girl was born I saw a happiness in his eyes that I have never saw before. A love that a father can only have for his daughter.
I am not ready to tell my labor story. Not the first part and surly not the second part, so I am not going to rush it. I have the rest of my life to tell it, and I surly won't forget. When I do finally tell it I want it to be just right, and I want to be ready when I do.
So I am doing a few things for now.
For now I am letting the todo list of things we needed to do for the home birth live on the fridge because I can't bare to take it down. For now I'm letting the basket of birth materials sit in the nursery, still packed and ready to go because I thought that it would be unpacked when I had my daughter. For now I am taking it slow, laughing when I feel like laughing, crying when I feel like crying and letting myself be okay with the fact that healing is going to take time. Most importantly of all though, I am letting myself be a mother. For now I am nursing my daughter whenever she cries, for now I am holding her as often as she wants to be held, and I am enjoying her as much as I possibly can because I already lost enough time.
My labor didn't go as planned, there are good parts and there are bad parts and that is okay. I feel like I have so much to process and no time to process it, but the fact of the matter is, that's not true. I have my whole life and for better or worse, this will always be a part of me. Tzeitel though won't be a newborn forever, so for now, I am just going to slow down and love her.
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