Happy Easter everyone!
Love, Bunny
There are many things I’m grateful for, but today I owe my sweet husband a whole heap of gratitude. I met my husband Luke in college at UCSC @ Porter College, on the very first day we moved into the dorms. We began dating a few years later, moved in together a few years after that, and for the last 6 years have lived in Boise, Idaho. We got married 8 years after we started dating and 3 months ago we had our first child, a son. We are nearing 11 years together this summer. That’s a long time, and considering that we began dating when I was 19, we have both gone through a lot of changes to become the people we are now.
Luke has seen me through many incarnations of myself: college sorority girl, retail sales lady, sophisticated city dweller, country bumpkin, teacher, doula, blissfully happy, furious, depths of despair, lover, friend and most recently mother. He is brave, kind, loyal, dedicated, smart, quiet, hardworking, gentle, open to adventure, an attentive father. I knew from our first date that I could spend my life with him, and it has worked out just so.
Thanks to my husband Luke for being my best friend all these years. For being brave enough to tend to me during the birth of our son, and to catch him from my body, with his big loving hands. I love that Luke smiles when I sing to Porter and reads him books before bed. I appreciate his level headed-ness when I jump off the deep end, and I am grateful that he is constantly working to be a better human being. My life is so full of joy because of the life we have created together. There is no one else I want to spend my future with, even after all these years. I love my husband, and even better? He loves me back!
Dedicated Daddy |
Lovable Son-in-Law |
Family Man |
Today’s weather report said there would be “abundant sunshine”, and it was true. A perfect day to take an urban hike to the Boise Train Depot. Continuing our experiment with baby carriers, today we used the most world famous carrier, the sling. In our case the Rockin’ Baby Pouch. I apologize ahead of time for the shady pictures. I was taking them myself, obviously, and my hat created a lot of darkness in all of the abundant sunshine.
Porter’s ready in his red hoody for our adventure. |
We channeled our inner hobos as we walked along the closest thing we have to a trail near our home, the train tracks. |
We crossed a quickly flowing canal full of water. |
Our destination, the Boise Train Depot or more correctly, Meeting Station. Porter slept through the whole thing. |
View from the gardens at the depot. |
Something about walking while being carried puts this baby to sleep. Tender. |
It is finally starting to feel like spring here in Boise. It’s been a bit rainy lately, but you know the saying, “April showers bring May flowers!” The rain has also kept the air nice and clean. Leaves are starting to sprout on trees and the first flowers are blooming. Having lived in Boise for 6 years now I have learned to tolerate the winters. While I won’t be the one to say that I love experiencing four seasons, I will say that having a real winter makes me appreciate the spring and it’s emerging beauty more than ever.
One of my favorite tales is that of Demeter, Persephone, and Hades. A quick recap of the story goes like this. Demeter is the goddess of fertility and agriculture and Persephone is her daughter. Persephone is enticed by Hades to venture below the earth with him and she partakes of his pomegranate seeds. She is then obligated to stay with him in the underworld, which makes her mother Demeter so sad that she neglects her agricultural duties and all the plants wither, these are the seasons Fall and Winter. When Persephone is allowed to visit her mother the other six months of the year, Demeter gets right back to fertilizing the world in celebration of her daughters return, hence Spring and Summer. Something about the happiness that her mother feels when Persephone returns strikes the same chord in me as spring time.
I also have a real love of flowers (my dad is an artist when it comes to gardening with bright and bold flowers) that started in childhood and has grown even greater as an adult. Their colors and fragrance will lift my mood when I’m down and make me generally happy. My friend Chelsea always has flowers in her house, which I may have to take up year round, especially in the winter! While I’m declaring my love for all things vibrant, I’m going to go ahead and say that Spring is my favorite season. It keeps me optimistic and gives me hope.
My Dad’s garden in Capitola, CA |
Boise’s Botanical Garden, lit up for the winter |
I just love the earthy smell of flowering trees! |
And their pretty pink petals. |
Last fall I plopped a few bulbs in the ground and this is what grew! |
Tulips are the first flower to pop up in my yard every year. |
Porter all tucked in for the walk. I love the Ergo because it has a cover that protects him from the elements and allows him to sleep peacefully. |
The most tender picture, my sweet boy cozy and asleep on momma. |
I come from a family with eclectic tastes. My dad has a wall of mounted critters made of all sorts of materials winding their way towards a window in his house. My mom has a love of all fabrics that are batiked or hand made, and my brother is a poet and musician. My parents home has a giant mobile hanging in the living room, and other assorted mobiles around the house. As it turns out, Porter is no different, he too has a love of mobiles and all things made to mount and spin in the air. He has spent up to 20 minutes (maybe more) staring at floating objects.
His fascination started in Maui with the original mobile, the ceiling fan.
He then received his first mobile as a gift from his Aunt’s Anna and Katie and Gramma Teri. It’s a beautifully handmade mobile of pinwheels. Each pinwheel is mounted with a wooden bead and has a different pattern on the bottom. It suits Porter’s love of spinning fans perfectly.
Porter recently received his next mobile. It’s made of hand folded paper butterflies floating from hand sculpted copper wire. Here’s the story. On his first trip to France, many years ago, my dad picked up a kit of paper butterflies and gave it to my brother as a gift. Being from France, the directions were in French. Luckily, many years later my brother moved to France and learned to speak and read French. A few years after that, Porter was born and my brother was able to finally assemble the paper butterflies and crafted them into a mobile with copper wire and string. It turned out beautifully and the butterflies swarm in circles every time the fan is on. Porter is mesmerized by it.
While Porter is enthralled with his mobiles, I have to admit that I find myself staring at them for long periods of time too. They capture the lightness of the air, and are downright whimsical. And just about anything that displays whimsy is pretty tender.
Surrender: verb, to give oneself up, as into the power of another; submit or yield.
Before I had a baby of my own I was/am a doula. I help families deliver their babies into the world. It took certification, study, and confidence in the natural process of pregnancy and birth. I’ve been a doula for about 8 years and I know a lot about pregnancy and birth, A LOT. There have been many women who I’ve been with as they’ve crossed over into motherhood in both hospitals and birth centers. There have been completely natural births, water births, epidural births, vacuum assisted births and even a cesarean birth. Each and every one was different, but ended in the miracle of a new baby taking it’s first breath and feeling gravity for the first time. I thought I knew what birth was like because I’m a woman. In some ways I did know. I knew the physiology, I knew coping, hypnosis, and breathing techniques. I have an inherent belief that babies always come out when they are supposed to, if left to their own devices, and they will be born vaginally too.
Many times I would instruct my clients that birth was about letting go of control. Letting your body do the work and becoming a bystander of sorts. It wasn’t until January 10, 2011 that I figured out what birth really is, and it’s not about letting go of control. Giving up control implies that, as a birthing woman, we have any control over birth in the first place, we don’t. Birth is about surrendering, giving oneself up to the power of another. That other may be god or the universe, for me it was giving myself up to my baby.
This is the birth story of Porter Rainn, my son. I’m not going to fudge any of the words or images, so I will give a brief summary for those of you who don’t want the deep dark details, and then I’ll get into the thick of it. Here we go!
Porter Rainn was born 2 weeks and 4 days past his due date on Monday 1/10/11 at 12:53am after 50 hours of labor. This child took his sweet time! I labored at home from Friday 1/7/11 at 11pm until about 2am on Sunday 1/9/11. We went the birth center twice and were sent home because I was not yet far enough along before I was finally admitted. I then labored in a big bath tub at the birth center for about 13 hours, then labored out of the water for the rest of the time. I chanted, hummed, rocked and rolled until I pushed out my baby of 11 pounds 2 ounces. He came out just like a baby is supposed to come out and didn’t cause either of us any harm. The birth was totally natural, assisted by my husband, doula and midwives, no inductions or drugs. Just good ol’ fashioned baby birthing.
Porter was born into the loving hands of his father who then handed him to me so we could bond skin to skin. I even cut his cord. He started breastfeeding within 25 minutes and hasn’t stopped since. He measured 23.5 inches long and was chubby from the get go, bigger than any newborn I’ve ever seen in my life. He’s perfect, he’s wonderful, he cries, sleeps, poops and is very much loved my everyone who meets him. He’s lucky to be here and we are lucky to have him.
Now for the whole story, with details. Luke and I decided not to get any visual ultrasounds during my pregnancy and therefore didn’t know the gender of our baby. According to all wives tales, no one could figure it out either. He was due before Christmas on 12/23/10. I didn’t expect him to be born before or even on his due date, but I certainly didn’t expect him to be two and a half weeks past. By the time I had my last prenatal appointment, the midwives were telling me that if I wasn’t in active labor (dilated 4cm) by Monday, January 10th I would be drinking a Castor oil cocktail, or have to take my chances at the hospital. I was beginning to panic, neither option sounded like the way I wanted my baby to be born. Luckily, by Thursday night I lost my mucus plug and by Friday night around 11pm I started having somewhat regular pressure waves (contractions). They were too intense to sleep through, but not so bad that I couldn’t use my hypnosis techniques and breathe through them. I instructed Luke to go to sleep because we would no doubt be having a baby the next day and he should be rested.
As my husband slept in bed I lit candles in the living room and swayed through what I though was a quickly progressing labor. I timed pressure waves and they were steady at 5 minutes apart and lasting anywhere from 30-70 seconds. During my pregnancy I had tested positive for Group B Strep (GBS). No big deal and quite common for pregnant ladies. It did mean that I had to either go on IV antibiotics 6 hours before the baby was born or do a vaginal wash with Chlorhexidine, an antiseptic that kills bacteria so that I didn’t pass GBS onto my newborn baby. Hibiclens can be purchased for $10 a bottle at your local drugstore. Since I had no desire for an IV or antibiotics I had to do this wash every six hours until the baby was born. I got a peri-bottle and diluted the Hibiclens
The night passed and at about 7am on Saturday I was sure it was time to go to The Baby Place. I woke Luke and he called my friend and doula Sarah to tell her it was time. When she got the call we could hear her husband hoot and holler with excitement in the background. She came right over and we loaded up the cars and excitedly drove to the birth center about 25 minutes away. Oh goody, this was it!! Or so I thought.
When we got to the birth center the midwife checked my cervical dilation and I was hoping for at least 4cm (active labor), even better would be 6. After a quick check I was told to go back home because I was only dilated to 2cm. Hmm, this was taking longer then I thought. We made the drive home and I continued to labor using my hypnosis techniques (which weren’t working as well as I had imagined).
After the day passed I decided that I must be at least 4cm and we returned to the birth center with high hopes. I really wanted to get into one of their gigantic bath tubs. When we walked in I met Holly and started crying. On the way over I had my first realization about what it really meant to let each contraction move through me. To allow the energy to move through my body and open me up, but I didn’t have the words to explain it. I told Holly this and she said the word that struck right to the core of this whole birthing experience, she called it surrender.
I climbed onto the bed, ready to be dilated to at least 4-5 centimeters. Alas, still 2 cm. While I was disappointed I was confident that I now knew what this whole surrender process was about and on the ride home, as I listened to my hypnosis, I quietly allowed each contraction to move through me. Luke was impressed and I’m sure slightly relieved that my moaning and groaning had subsided.
This continued for the rest of the day and into the night. I labored in the tub and out and the contractions got stronger and stronger. Luke built a fire in the fire place and they both took turns supporting me and taking naps. At around midnight the contractions reached what I thought was critical pains and I really wanted to get into the big bath tub at the birth center. I called the midwife and pleaded to come in and get in the tub and she said ok. We then took the longest most uncomfortable drive, OF MY LIFE!
We finally arrived for the third time at the birth center and Holly had the tub all set for me to go. She wasn’t going to check me just yet, but said I should hang in the tub while she slept for a little while. I was in heaven. I labored in the tub somewhere between 12 and 15 hours. I was pickled and pruned and didn’t leave to go the the bathroom because urine is sterile. It sounds totally gross now, but I was so grateful for the watery relief that it didn’t matter to me one bit. Holly eventually checked me, after the sun came up, and I was dilated 5 centimeters. Half way to pushing and as Holly enthusiastically said, “You don’t have to take Castor oil!” Honestly, I hadn’t even thought I would have to go there, and I was glad that opportunity passed me by.
The first half of the next day (Sunday) passed with me in the tub working through contractions and dozing in between. Luke and Sarah took turns napping and breathing me through it all. I finally decided that I needed a change of pace. This was taking a long time and I realized that I had to move around in order to move this baby down and out. I asked for Holly and Colleen’s advice. I believe my exact words were, “I’m in a rut.” They suggested that I get out of the pool and onto the bed with heat packs on my back. I agreed that it was time for me to experience the next level of labor and I knew that my support people were ready to actually get down to business.
The second half of the day was spend mostly on the bed on my left side. I would have liked to walk around and squat and do all the other fabulous positions I have preached to so many women, but honestly they made the contractions hurt like hell. At this point in my mind I was reminding myself that no one actually died from contractions and I instantly took back any judgement I had of women who use epidurals during labor. Poor Luke was trapped behind me, folded like a pretzel, pushing a heat pack on my lower back while Sarah was in front of me helping me sing (heeee hawwww heeee hawww, etc…) through the contractions. Throughout all this I was drinking water, getting up to pee and every six hours I was using the Hibiclens. I want to say that time flew, but the clock pretty much didn’t register in my mind. I was having to take it one contraction at a time. I will say that at no point was I scared or didn’t think I could do it. My babies heart rate was awesome, so I just had to keep moving forward on this journey.
Nighttime came and the contractions were getting very intense. There is no real way to explain it, but it felt like the energy of a train running through my body and out my vajayjay. I wanted to push, but knew that I wasn’t yet 10 centimeters and pushing too soon could cause my cervix to swell and therefore prevent it from dilating further. The last two centimeters were by far the most difficult, frustrating, and painful event of my life. Both Luke and Sarah had been dedicated helpers, but they were obviously tired and didn’t know how else they could help me. There was no way to ease the intensity of what I was going through. I’ll say this, transition is a bitch!
Holly came in and told me that I had to start letting the last of this energy work through me without spazzing out (my words, not hers). I had to quiet down during the contraction and then rest in between them. Much easier said than done. It involved lots of low groans, blowing out candles across the room and the sleeping in between contractions. Thankfully Lynelle, a midwife in training came in. She was a sight for sore eyes. It was around 10pm and she was fresh, smiling and an angel there to help me make it to the end, when I had exhausted everyone around me. Lynelle sat with me face to face and allowed me to gaze into her eyes during contractions when I thought my body was going to explode. She smiled, reminded me to relax my face and shoulders and was a moment of peace for my screaming mind and body. This whole surrendering bit was really really hard.
Finally I decided it was time. I could wait no longer and I was pushing with or without permission. Holly checked my dilation and I was at 9.5 cm. I pleaded with her that there must be something she could do to help get me to 10, and she said yes. PRAISE THE LORD! This was maybe the happiest time of the day, I was going to push my baby out. I sat on the birthing stool and gave a strong heave downward. My water broke and was perfectly clean and then I started peeing. I peed for what seemed like 5 minutes. I don’t know why because I’d been going to the bathroom all day, like the good little doula that I am. Something about my water breaking and being able to release my bottom let my bladder go. I know better than anyone that bodily functions during labor are to be expected, I just didn’t think I would be so embarrassed. Oh, and yes I pooped too, twice! Everyone around me practically did the happy dance for me though, and they couldn’t have cared less.
In order for me to get past the last half centimeter I had to lay on the bed with my legs held over my head by two women so Holly could help push the last bit of cervix over the baby’s head. I had expected to push on the birthing stool or in the water, but it was my destiny to push on my back. With every contraction I would say to Sarah and Colleen, “it’s time” and they would pull my legs back and over my head. While they were doing that I pushed and pushed and pushed some more. There was no counting and no one chanting at me what to do. It was awesome. From being a so many births I knew that I could push with all my might and the baby wouldn’t come flying out, so that is what I did. I managed to get three solid pushes with each contraction. The midwives had told me to expect to push for 2-4 hours since I was a first time mom. In my head I knew it wouldn’t take that long, I was meant to push this baby out and I wasn’t scared of any pain or pressure that may come my way. I was born for this moment.
In between pushes I would watch Luke’s face and I could tell how far along we were by where he was standing. There was comfortable banter among the women and Sarah tended to my washcloth and water needs. As Luke said it was a very YaYa of the Traveling Pants moment. I loved it. I love remembering this time, the happiness and love that filled the room was exactly what I wanted my baby to be born into. There was peace and confidence everywhere.
Finally, Holly started spraying my nether region with olive oil and she instructed Luke to come sit next to her so he could be ready to catch the baby. I began to feel very intense stretching during one of the pushes and then it burned. My focused push turned into a yell and I felt the ring of fire that is spoken of. Then the hardest words to hear were spoken to me in the midst of this very fiery moment, “Don’t push, just breath through it.” HA! I know I was given this advice so I wouldn’t tear so I did my best to blow out imaginary candles. Then Jerusha, another midwife, said to only push if you’re having a contraction. To which I replied that I couldn’t tell if I was having a contraction because “THERE’S A HEAD STICKING OUT OF ME!!” The head finally passed to the outside of my body and Holly gave the go ahead to give a big push, when I did I felt my sweet baby slip from my body and into the arms of his loving father.
It was quiet for a moment and then there was a soft cry. I looked to Sarah and said, “It’s a baby!” “Yes it is.” she replied matter of factly. I looked between my legs and Luke passed Porter up and into my arms. He was crying now and I held him high on my chest. His body was so long that it trailed off my side onto the bed. When it was time to cut the cord Luke’s hands were too slippery from catching the baby and Sarah didn’t feel the need, so I volunteered to cut the cord. I was elated, couldn’t have been happier. Luke was crying and super emotional. Two and a half weeks past the due date and after 50 hours of labor had our baby boy!
The last part of birth gives the most relief by far. The delivery of the placenta happened a few minutes after Porter was born and I started to have cramping again. I pushed 2-3 times and out it slid. My body felt empty and it felt GREAT. I made everyone look at the placenta before it was placed into a bag. After a good check of my parts and the recognition of a small tear that didn’t need stitches the midwives left the room to go help another woman push her baby out. We were alone with our baby, who began breast feeding instantly and without any problems.
Around 3am Jerusha and Colleen came into to take Porter’s measurements, they were pretty astounded by what they found. Weight: 11pounds 2 ounces (Luke called it and was very pleased) Length: 23.5 inches Head circumference: 14.5 inches
Our baby was HUGE! We spent the rest of the night eating scrambled eggs and toast, took baths and then fell into a deep sleep for the next 4-5 hours with our new baby in between us. It all went perfectly. I couldn’t have asked for a better experience during my prenatal care and labor. My baby and I were healthy and my husband was more supportive and loving than I ever could have imagined. I trusted my body and mother nature and I wasn’t let down. We plan on having another baby in a few years and I hope to do it the same way. While my body will forever be changed, the pain has passed and I have a strength and gratitude that I have never experienced before. Even though I will never poo poo a women for using medication to ease the pain of childbirth, I highly recommend an out of hospital birth with no drugs. It was worth every single moment.
Taking vacations are a real delight that we are lucky enough to experience on a pretty regular basis. Recently we took a trip to Maui with Porter and met up with my parents. This was the first time Porter met his grandpa and it went off without a hitch. Porter is an awesome traveler and we can’t wait to take our next trip.
The best part of this vacation was that there were so many people to love on Porter. My parents were ready and willing babysitters, which meant that Luke and I actually got some quality time together. We swam, snorkeled, went to breakfast and lounged in the sun. It was a much needed warming to our cores after the chilly Boise winter. Porter also kept us out of the sun much of the time and neither of us got a sunburn. He’s saving us from ourselves already!
When we arrived home it was a small shock to my system on Monday when Luke had to go back to work. It was just Porter and I alone again and we didn’t have all the helping hands that had been so wonderful on our vacation. It made me appreciate all the friends and family that have come to visit us during these last two and a half months. I am also grateful for the Baby and Me group that I meet up with on Tuesdays at St. Alphonsus hospital. Meeting with mothers and babies that are similar ages has helped answer many questions that I have and it’s nice to know that I’m not the only one running this race called motherhood. The love that everyone has shown my family and baby has made our lives happy and so much easier.
I say easier because Porter is growing like a weed, he’s already 14 pounds and 25 inches long. At 2.5 months he’s wearing six month sized clothing. While my arms are getting really strong, it’s always nice when I can give Porter off to another pair of loving hands for a bit. Luke certainly gets his fair share when he’s home, and has actually said that changing diapers isn’t so bad. What can I say, I’m a lucky girl and Porter is an even luckier boy!
Here are a few pics from the trip ~
Napili Point, Maui |
Mom and Porter by Turtle Bay |
Grandma Mikie lovin’ on Porter |
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