Life in Chicago

Relief

My post last Friday was born out of a lot of anxiety I experienced following an ultrasound I had on Friday morning. But I found out today that there is nothing to worry about.

I went for a check-up with my midwife last week and told her about some cramping I was experiencing so she sent me for an ultrasound to check things out. Being who I am and having the family history that I do, I got a little over-anxious.

On Friday, during the ultrasound, the tech spotted something small on my remaining ovary. Even though I knew it could very well be nothing to worry about I couldn't help but dissolve into a mess for the rest of the morning. I immediately thought about all the worst case scenarios.

The first one was that I had ovarian cancer and would be dead in 6 months and my little girl would never remember her mother.

The second was that I would have to have my ovary removed and would never be able to have any more children. There are a lot of variables to work with in this scenario but it still felt like a pretty terrible idea.

And finally on Friday, after I'd cried in bed for an hour, I took a shower and decided to stop worrying about it. And I really did. I hardly thought about it all weekend or yesterday. And this morning when I drove to the medical center to see the midwife I just felt sure that everything would be fine.

And it was. I most likely have another small dermoid cyst, but it's so small that it could even be an old, collapsed cyst or even just a follicle. It's certainly nothing scary. I go back in 3 months for a follow-up ultrasound to see if it's gotten any bigger.

The funny thing is that Greg and I both wondered if the doctor might tell me that if I want to have more children I should start trying right away. And we were both like, okay. And I meant it. If I'd gone in this morning and the doctor had told me that I would have come home and started trying tonight! But that said, I'm relieved that we can wait a while.

In the first 6 weeks after V was born I remember thinking that I didn't want to have another baby for a LONG time and that I could even understand why some people just have one. But now, 5 months in, Veronica has won me over so much that I can say that I absolutely want to have more babies and would be really devastated if I found out that I couldn't.

I can certifiably say that having my daughter has been the best thing I've ever done. (And that I'm really relieved that I'm not on my deathbed.)

Fortnight

Yesterday our doula Holly came over for our two-week postpartum visit. I can hardly believe it's been two weeks. It, at once, feels like 2 days and 2 months since V arrived in our lives.

Holly came over at 4pm yesterday -- the same exact time she arrived 2 weeks ago to see us through my active labor. Yesterday we talked about the birth, how we all felt it went, what was surprising about it and if there was anything any of us would have done differently.

While there were some surprising aspects of it for me (finding out that I was already 8cm when we arrived at the hospital), there is nothing I would have done differently. I continue to feel incredibly grateful that it went the way it did. There are few things in life that I'll admit to being proud of myself about, but giving birth to my daughter naturally is easily one of them. 

Natural childbirth has been something that I've been interested in for a long time. It's something that several of my good friends have done and it's something I already knew a fair amount about, even before I got pregnant. I don't know that there was ever a time when I considered giving birth any other way.

After I became pregnant though I truly delved into the world of natural childbirth, reading books, watching dvds, taking classes and workshops and talking to other moms who had chosen this route. The more I learned, the more resolute I felt about this approach.

And while it was wonderful to immerse myself in a community of such like-minded people, I still met a lot of resistance to my decision. It's partly why I didn't write much about it here -- I wanted to keep any criticism of it out of my head. Throughout my pregnancy, when I would mention my natural childbirth plan to certain people -- coworkers, family members, other moms -- I would often get responses along the lines of, "Oh, you just wait until those contractions really start. You'll be screaming for an epidural."

I learned to just smile quietly in return and not press the issue further, hoping that my actions down the road would prove them wrong. And as I've gone along in this process, I've become deeply saddened by the way American culture approaches childbirth -- the extreme medicalization of it all lends itself to intense fear and a lot of unnecessary procedures and interventions.

(I also want to point out that childbirth is a tricky thing and no matter how much you plan for it, all sorts of things can happen. There are plenty of women who do as much work and research as I did and still end up having c-sections and getting induced, for one reason or another. Again, why I'm so grateful that things went the way they did for me.)

I think in some ways I'm still processing the whole birth experience, but as each day goes by, I feel prouder and more grateful to have had the experience I did. I have a new appreciation for my body and for what I'm capable of working through. And I know that Greg has a new respect for me as well -- I can tell just by the way he looks at me when he tells people about the birth experience and about how amazed he was by the way I handled it. (Our friends Sandy & Sarah also had a wonderful natural birth experience recently and Sandy writes eloquently about his awe of his wife in this post.)

When I'm asked about why I chose a natural birth it's easy to cite all the facts about c-section rates in the country and the effects that epidurals have on mother's and babies, but the real reason is that I just wanted to be as absolutely present for the experience as possible. I've been through a lot of hard things in my life -- things that I was forced to breathe through no matter what -- so having a baby, while hard, was something I wanted to face as consciously as possible.

And I did. And sometimes I still can't believe she's here.

Veronica Chatterton Boose, Birth Story

I have a daughter.

Veronica Chatterton Boose.

Greg and I left the hospital with her yesterday around noon and drove home along Clark, right through Wrigleyville where the streets teemed with people out to see a Cubs game. The world felt like a new place. I had to remind myself of who I am. I'm Claire. I'm 31 years old. I live in Chicago. It was as though I'd forgotten, or that those things ceased to matter, at least for a while. All that mattered was our little daughter asleep in her car seat in the back seat for the first time.

She was born on June 10, 2009 at 11:26 pm weighing in at 8 lbs and 4 oz. She was robust and healthy with a full head of dark hair. I truly went into labor around 11pm on June 9th, after a day of on and off contractions and feelings of frustration on my part. But at 11pm that night the contractions kicked in regularly, growing strong enough to keep me from sleeping and causing us to call our doula around 3am.

Holly (who was absolutely amazing and without whom we never would have had such a good experience) arrived around 4am, helping us to work through my contractions until they suddenly tapered off around 6am. She went home for a while and I actually slept for a couple of hours. When I woke up Greg and I took a walk and ate some lunch and we both felt a bit dismayed that the labor had stalled.

I took another nap in the early afternoon and when I awoke the contractions had come back strongly. I took a bath for a bit to ease some of the discomfort and Greg called Holly to come back over. She arrived around 4pm and the contractions were coming hard and strong then. We decided to wait a bit before leaving for the hospital because it was traffic time.

At 6pm we let the midwives know that we were going to head to the hospital and Greg took our bags down to the car. My contractions were coming every three or four minutes at that point and were strong enough that I was moaning through most of them. I was worried though that the car ride might stall my labor again and I also wasn't looking forward to experiencing contractions in the car since they were already requiring so much concentration to work through.

Rather than stall my labor, the car ride seemed to bring it on even stronger. All three of us went to the hospital together, Greg driving and Holly and I in the backseat. I kept my eyes closed the whole time and had to grip the handle above the window as the contractions increased to every two minutes. We finally arrived and, while Greg parked the car, Holly and I went in through emergency. I was immediately put in a wheel chair and taken to triage to be checked out.

The midwife examined me and said that I was already 8 centimeters dilated and that they were preparing a room in the alternative birthing center for me, which is where I'd hoped to give birth all along. The room was lovely with dim lights and a big queen-sized bed. I labored for the next five hours on the bed with both Holly and Greg at my side.

It's hard to describe those hours. I was in a place, psychologically, emotionally and physically, that I've never been in. The contractions came in waves and I worked through them, moaning, breathing, screaming and sometimes sobbing. But after each one ended I was in a place of calm again. I never thought about asking for an epidural or wishing I was doing things a different way, but there were times when I questioned whether I was physically capable of getting through the whole experience.

Holly was amazing, so soothing and encouraging, reminding me over and over that I could do this. And Greg was incredible as well, staying at my side relentlessly, massaging my back and letting me squeeze his hand practically to the point of breaking.

My favorite midwife ended up being on call during my last two really hard hours and it was so amazing to have her there for the delivery. The last two hours were, by far, the hardest and most intense. The pushing stage was incredibly painful and difficult. I labored in several different positions, finally finding one that worked for the final 45 minutes in which I worked to birth our baby.

When she finally came out, Greg was the one to look and proclaim, "It's a girl!" and she cried out at the same time as they placed her on my chest. "It's a girl?!" I could hardly believe it. I can still hardly believe it. When Greg went next door to the waiting room a few minutes later he told his parents and they said, "We know. We heard everything," both of them having listened to me labor for all those hours. 

I've only been away from her once for about ten minutes since then and I've fallen in love with her a thousand times over. I'm completely enchanted with her fingers and her toes and her little snorts and her soft, soft head. My daughter.

There's so much more to write but I have days and days to do that. Thank you so very much to everyone for all of your incredibly thoughtful comments and notes and wishes. Greg and I are so thrilled to have brought Veronica into the world.