What do you do when you want a homebirth, but it’s just not in the cards? This blog post is filled with tips to make your experience feel more relaxed and to make you feel in control.
Read moreHappy Birthday, Dad
Today my dad would have been 69 years old.
I lost him in 2008, when I was just 26. I was in Chiropractic school, 6 hours from home, when I woke up to a voicemail from the police.
“You’re dad’s dead,” was the gist of the message - a super-professional way to let a family know that their loved one was gone.
That message had been preceded by a million missed calls from my brother, whose phone had actually been on when the police called (unlike mine), so he knew first. I dropped to my knees in shock, then stood to pack my things and head for home.
It was January in New York state, and it was bitterly cold. I stopped to get gas and can still remember how frigid it felt to use the pump without gloves, but how appreciative I was for the discomfort because it meant I was alive and could feel, unlike my dad.
My dad’s passing was unexpected, though I always knew it was a possibility. He had a life-long battle with alcohol, and, after becoming sober from that, replaced it with prescription drugs. He was an emergency room nurse, and his doctor was a “friend” - the kind of friend that gives you unlimited refills on huge bottles of Oxycodone and Morphine that will eventually lead to your death.
The ironic part of him dying of a drug overdose is that the reason he started taking narcotics in the first place is because he had back pain - and I was in Chiropractic school, where I learned how to help people with exactly that. If only I had already graduated and been home, maybe I could have saved him.
At his funeral I was angry with him, and I had a hard time accepting everyone saying how wonderful he was. I made the 6 hour drive back and forth to his house for months after that, cleaning out every single thing he had accumulated in his 52 years. He didn’t have a will, which made everything so much harder for me, especially since I had no help from my siblings.
Death can bring people together, or it can break them apart. I hoped it would be an opportunity to bring me closer to my brothers, but it did the opposite. And now without my dad, who had been my lifeline to his side of the family, I also lost touch with my paternal aunts, uncles and cousins. It would be years before we would reconnect.
There have been so many times over the almost 17 years since my dad passed that I wish he were here with me - when my husband and I opened our business, when we got married, when we had our children, when we bought our first home. I know he would have been there every step of the way to tell me how he really felt, to give advice, to play catch with my boys or take them fishing, and to help with home improvement projects (that he would half-ass, but get done). Becoming an adult and a mother without his guidance (or that of a mother - but that’s a story for another day) has been the biggest challenge of my life.
Last year I saw a video going around social media where kids and their parents were put in different rooms and then asked the same question: “If you could have dinner with one person, dead or alive, who would it be?” . The parents all answered things like “Mother Teresa”, “Michael Jackson” and “Patrick Dempsy”. But every single one of the kids said “my family”. I’m with the kids. Sometimes I see my dad in my dreams, but my real dream would be to be with him again - to share just one more meal that I could make for him, after all he gave me.
Happy birthday, Dad.
The BEST Father’s Day Craft
Every Father’s Day I like to have my kids make their dad a gift. I want it to be something handmade and special - something we can look back on when they’re older and remember how much fun we had making them. And, ideally, I’d like it to be something that will stand the test of time.
We’ve made mugs, painted rocks, and made things out of paper, but none of those things have lasted very long. Paint fades or chips, and paper gets crushed or ripped. That’s why I was so happy to find this craft for Father’s Day this year. It came out awesome and I want to share it with you!
The craft is called a Pony Bead Sun catcher - here’s how to make it:
SUPPLIES
Translucent pony beads (big bag)
String or fishing line to connect pieces
Muffin tins or other pans (ones you will never use for food after this)
A grill
A drill
Scrap piece of wood
Bowls to hold beads for kids to choose (I used clear glass)
DIRECTIONS
Warm up your grill. You definitely don’t want to do this project in the house because pony beads are plastic and the fumes are definitely toxic.
While the grill is warming up give your kids bowls full of beads and the tins/pans so they can start arranging them. They can either create designs with them or just throw them in and see what happens - they all come out looking great!
Be sure to cover the entire bottom of your pan or tin with beads, but keep it to one layer.
Place your filled tins/pans into the grill and close the lid. Set a timer for 8 minutes.
When the timer goes off, check to make sure all beads are melted. I took a big breath and held it before doing this so I didn’t breathe in the poison fumes.
If some beads aren’t yet totally melted, wait 2 more minutes and check again. When everything is melted turn off the grill and take the pans out, leaving them outside until they’re totally cool.
When the pans are totally cool you can simply pop the sun catchers out. They should come out easily.
Now that your sun catchers are done, it’s time to get out your drill. You want to use a drill bit just a little bit bigger than the width of your string to make sure it will be easy to thread.
Place your sun catchers one by one onto the scrap wood (you don’t want to drill through your table or countertop) and drill holes wherever you decide to in order to attach them together. If you’re connecting them together in a line, you’ll need one hole on the top and one on the bottom on all pieces except the last one (that one just needs a top hole).
String your pieces together and hang your sun catcher in a sunny spot or from a tree to decorate your garden! Dad will love it.
Did you make this craft? How did it come out? Let me know!
Your Water does not have to break before labor
Only 10% of women have their water break before the start of labor.
The rest of women who have their water break spontaneously have it happen during labor or as the baby’s being born - unless it doesn’t break at all and baby is born in the sac (known as en caul).
The amniotic sac is thick and protective, separating your baby from the outside environment. Once that barrier is broken and people start inserting their hands and tools into your vagina, your risk of infection increases dramatically. And if you’re at a hospital, you’re now on a countdown to Pitocin and ultimately a c-section.
Amniotic fluid allows your baby room to get into the proper position for birth. If they’re not in that position yet and someone breaks your water, the baby will drop into your pelvis in a suboptimal way.
This poor positioning can cause excess pain for you and can mean that it takes the baby longer to emerge. This can lead to interventions like an epidural or Pitocin that you hadn’t planned on.
When did your water break? Or was it broken for you?
Your Cervix is not a crystal ball
Your cervix is not a crystal ball 🔮
Checking its dilation is really for your provider, not for you.
Cervical checks are to help your provider decide if things are “taking too long”, and when they should speed up your labor with Pitocin,offer that epidural for the 40th time, or tell you it’s time for a c-section.
Checking the dilation of a woman’s cervix tells you nothing about when their baby will be born - it only tells you how dilated their cervix is at that exact moment.
You could be not dilated at all one minute, and have your baby an hour later. Or you could progress from 1 to 5 centimeters in an hour, and then your labor could “stall”. No two births are the same.
Cervical checks can’t predict the future, but here’s what they CAN DO…
✔️Introduce bacteria into your body, increasing your likelihood of infection
✔️Make you feel inadequate
✔️Decrease your confidence in your body
✔️Increase the likelihood that your provider will suggest interventions
✔️Increase the likelihood that you will agree to interventions because you’re feeling pressured
✔️Increase the likelihood that you will push before your body is ready, based on an outsider’s estimation of what your body should be doing
Did you allow cervical checks during labor?
The Truth about emergency c-sections
Was it really an emergency, or did they just call it that?
Emergency denotes action must be taken immediately - the situation is dire - something needs to happen NOW to avoid harm.
If there was time to fill out paperwork, it wasn’t an emergency.
If there was time to wait around for the OR to be perfectly prepped, it wasn’t an emergency.
If there was time to wait for an anesthesiologist to arrive, it wasn’t an emergency.
In a true emergency c-section, also known as a “crash” c-section, the baby needs to get out fast. In this case you will most certainly be wheeled straight to the OR, given general anesthesia (as there is no time for a spinal), and your baby will be born within minutes.
So many women are told their cesarean was an emergency, but I’m willing to bet the vast majority of those women both had their “emergency” caused by the interventions done to them AND weren’t actually in an emergency situation at all.
If you’re told something is an emergency, you’re much more likely to hand over agency and let someone else make choices for you.
Almost every “emergency c-section” story I’ve ever heard starts with, “so I went in for an induction…” and the cascade of interventions follows.
Did you have a c-section that you were told was an emergency? If so, do you think it truly was?
Holidays are not a medical reason for induction
Elective induction around a holiday is for convenience, but not yours.
With Thanksgiving & Christmas coming up, loads of unnecessary inductions and c-sections are about to happen.
Every year there is a HUGE decrease in births on (and around)...
🔆 Christmas
🔆 New Year’s Eve/Day
🔆 Easter (changes yearly - first Sunday after the full moon in April)
🔆 Memorial Day (changes yearly - last Monday in May in the US)
🔆 Independence Day (4th of July in the US)
🔆 Thanksgiving (changes yearly - 2nd to last Thursday in November)
And it’s not just the United States - it's everywhere.
How could it be that all of these holidays have lower birth rates year after year?
It’s not a coincidence - it’s about convenience.
And not YOUR convenience. The convenience of providers.
No one wants to work on holidays, and hospital birth providers have a way to make sure (for the most part) that they don’t have to.
Inductions & c-sections are rarely scheduled ON holidays, but they ARE frequently scheduled in the days leading up to, or just after, a holiday.
If you are due around a holiday, and your provider suggests an induction or c-section, it’s a good idea to question why (remember that you always have the right to decline). If there is NOT a legitimate medical reason, they may be more concerned with being home in time for a holiday dinner than your well being.
For more info and references on this topic, check out my FREE HOLIDAY BIRTHS HANDOUT.
Botox is a Blood Product - Did you know?
Did you know this?
You deserve to make an informed decision when receiving any medication, whether it’s because you’re ill, or because you want fewer wrinkles. But I know most of you were never told this.
Botox contains human albumin, which is a protein found in blood plasma. That means that donated blood was spun down and separated, and the albumin was added to the concoction that is Botox cosmetic, and then injected into your face.
Why does this matter? Some people, for either personal or religious reasons, do not want other people’s blood in their bodies. Maybe if they were dying and needed a blood transfusion, that’s one thing. But they might think twice when it’s just about wrinkles.
If you’re starting to see fine lines and wrinkles but are wary about Botox (as you should be - I will talk more about everything you should consider in another post), I personally have found Frownies to be a great natural alternative. Frownies are made simply out of natural kraft paper and vegetable starch adhesive. They work sort of like going to the gym - cumulatively. Wrinkles appear over time due to the facial expressions you make. With consistency, Frownies help counter the creases caused by those expressions. If you decide to try them out, my code BIRTHUPRISING gets you 10% off (linked HERE).
I'm not "evidence-based" *gasp!*
Let's take the ARRIVE trial, for example.
If you haven't heard of this study, it aimed to show that inducing ALL women at 39 weeks gestation, regardless of medical need, reduced the rate of c-section.
Now, let's think about this for a minute. Does this make sense to you, logically?
Does it make sense that forcing a baby out of the womb before it's ready would result in more or less trauma to that baby? And if that baby experiences trauma from medications that cause strong, long & irregular contractions, is it more or less likely the baby will start having issues & will need to be "saved" with surgery?
Does it make sense that giving a woman uterotonics like Pitocin, which make contractions more painful & more frequent would result in more or less use of pain medication like epidurals? And if more women have epidurals, which can tank your blood pressure, cause fever, slow labor, etc., is it more or less likely that an "emergency" c-section will be suggested?
You also have to think about who benefits. Is it the mothers & babies? Or is it the doctors & hospitals who can plan EVERY birth, and the companies that make the medications used for induction? I think you know the answer.
I'm all for research. It can be really helpful in lots of instances. This is why I say I'm "evidence-considerate" - I'll consider it, but I don't base my decisions & opinions on it. The push to have to "prove" everything with a study is nonsensical. We can know things without formal research & peer review. Just use logic.
What do you think about the push to be "evidence-based"?
Your Birth Trauma Was Most Likely Avoidable
If you experienced birth trauma after…
...your providers didn’t trust your body to go into labor on its own and you were induced, your trauma was likely avoidable.
...your providers didn’t trust your body to birth your baby in a “timely manner” and your labor was augmented, your trauma was likely avoidable.
...your providers convinced you that you couldn’t handle the pain, and coerced you into an epidural instead of trying natural comfort methods first, your trauma was likely avoidable.
...your providers told you that you needed surgery because your pelvis was too small/your baby was too big/your baby was safer on the outside/you had a c-section last time… your trauma was likely avoidable.
Every time trust in your body is undermined, your risk for trauma increases.
Every time someone besides you makes decisions about your birth, your risk for trauma increases.
The cascade of interventions is real (I’ve lived it).
Postpartum PTSD is real (also lived it).
If we were trusted to birth our children without outside help, so much trauma could be avoided.
And here’s where I insert the disclaimer that yes, not all trauma is avoidable or caused by interventions. But a lot (and I mean a LOT) of it is, and it’s totally unnecessary. This post is about the avoidable.
For those of you who are reading this as “shaming”, you are 100% missing the point. It is the exact opposite. This post is saying most birth trauma is caused my providers and unnecessary interventions, which makes it the fault of those providers and a system that treats women like they’re incapable. The person to blame in most cases of birth trauma is the provider that caused the issues in the first place, rather than supporting the mother.
Creepy Dudes from the 1600's are why you gave birth on your back
Lying on your back to give birth closes down your pelvis and almost always increases pain. So why is this the most commonly used position for birth in the Western world today?
Because of King Louis XIV & Dr. Françios Mauriceau.
At a time when only women attended births, it's reported that King Louis XIV insisted on watching his offspring be born. He didn't like the obstructed view caused by a birthing stool (most common position at the time), so he insisted his wife or mistress give birth on her back with her legs in stirrups.
Once word got out that this is how royalty gave birth, the new position began to gain popularity.
At the same time, French doctor Mauriceau, who believed pregnancy to be pathological, thought women would breathe more easily and have reduced pain when lying in bed for birth. His view of pregnancy as a disease had a hand in the change from midwife-attended birth to the primarily surgeon-attended birth that we see in much of the world today.
Though the lithotomy position is usually the worst option for the woman giving birth, it is still the easiest & most comfortable for those attending the birth. The doctor/midwife/nurse can simply sit on a stool and have a perfect visual, which is a good part of why it is still used today.
Upright positions including squatting, sitting, standing, and hands & knees all allow the pelvis to open and let gravity assist in the baby being born.
Birth Trauma - the Guilt and Shame
If hearing someone’s positive birth/breastfeeding/postpartum story makes you feel shamed and want to attack them, you have trauma. Others’ happiness shouldn’t make you feel bad about yourself.
The industrial maternity care system traumatizes so many women, and most of them don’t even realize it. They think what they went through is simply the payment you make for a healthy baby, and that they should just be grateful. In reality, their trauma was most likely caused by a series of interventions that didn’t have to happen.
They were set up by a system that believes birth needs to be managed instead of supported & trusted. And, to top it all off, they usually blame themselves and feel like failures. They should have researched more - had a birth plan - hired a doula - just said "no".
But you shouldn't have to get a PhD in birth to avoid unnecessary trauma. You shouldn't have to go into your birth ready for battle.
I’ve been accused of shaming many times simply because I share information and my personal experiences. The posts can be different - about breastfeeding, birth, mothering - but the people who try to call me out for shaming ALWAYS have one thing in common…
They all have unresolved trauma surrounding the topic of that post. 100% of the time.
Before I respond I always look at their profile to confirm my suspicion that they've been through something horrible. This then allows me to respond from a place of empathy, having been there myself.
And that's all they want, really - someone to validate their feelings and tell them they're not alone. So I try to be that person - to let them know it’s okay, it’s not their fault, and there are lots of us out there who’ve been hurt, just like them.
My top 5 reasons for Co-sleeping
There are lots of different sleeping arrangements you can have with your kids, but my favorite, that I’ve used with all three of my boys, is co-sleeping - specifically bed sharing. Each of my babies has slept in the bed with me from the very first night they were born. Eventually, when they’re older, I transition them (at least part time) to their own bed, but co-sleeping has worked so well for my family.
There are a lot of people out there (your pediatrician included) who will scare you away from the very natural, mammalian act of sleeping next to your little ones. This is how most people, and most providers in the Western medical model were trained, and they simply don’t know any better. As always, you have to do what works for you and your family, but know that the nay-sayers usually don’t know anything about co-sleeping at all, and certainly haven’t tried it for themselves and seen the benefits.
Here are my top 5 reasons for why this has been the best sleeping arrangement in my home:
It’s what feels best & safest for me & my family
It allows me to be right beside my baby so I can respond to him before he even wakes.
It helps me breastfeed on demand throughout the night, maintaining the supply of milk my baby needs.
It allows me to get the most sleep possible, since I never have to fully wake up to breastfeed (just latch on and go back to sleep).
I get to wake up to his perfect, tiny face every morning.
If you’ve considered bed sharing, I encourage you to look deeper into it and think about how many other cultures still consider this a normal practice - just not in Western society. All other mammals do this - if they didn’t, and their babies slept far from them, they would be eaten by predators. Unless your instincts are dulled (if you’re drunk or on drugs), you aren’t a danger to your baby. You will wake to the slightest sound they make, but only enough to start to feed them and then fall back to sleep. And when you wake up, their beautiful little face will be right there to greet you.
"I was given Cytotec without consent"
“When I was ready to push, my OB put my legs in stirrups and broke my water without permission. He then forced me to push on my back - I felt so trapped. He said I was bleeding a lot, so he inserted Cytotec into my rectum without permission.”
Obstetric abuse really happens, and happens a lot. And it’s totally unnecessary.
This doctor could have asked if rupturing this woman’s membranes was something that she wanted. He could have given her freedom of movement so she didn’t feel trapped. And he could have, at the very least, explained what he was doing and why with regard to Cytotec administration, even if there was a lot of bleeding and no time for discussion.
But he didn’t. Why? Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he felt it would take too long.Maybe he only learned “old school” ways of doing things, didn’t pay attention during any of his updated continuing education, and believed he was helping.
Maybe he knew he didn't have to because, no matter the outcome, it would be almost impossibile to hold him accountable in court. Maybe he didn’t want her to make choices, because he’s smarter and wears a white coat and should be in charge.
Whatever the reason, this mistreatment of women has to stop. And it’s not going to stop from the inside, so it STARTS WITH YOU.
It starts with educating yourself about what often happens in hospitals, and about all of your options, so you know what to expect if you give birth there.
It starts with SHARING THIS with your friends, even if it seems depressing, because you know what’s even MORE depressing? Postpartum depression (or anxiety, or PTSD) brought on by trauma or physical injury (leaving you with incontinence, hysterectomy, nerve pain…) that could have been avoided.
So please, do your friends a favor and don’t let them go into their birth blind. Let them know what they’re up against so they have a fighting chance.
You Hired Your Provider, and You Can Fire Them
You hired your provider - you can fire them. They work for you.
Just like when you hire a plumber or go for a hair appointment, your provider is being paid for a service they are performing. If your plumber left your house flooded or your hairdresser butchered your hair, you’d find someone else. So how is your OB or midwife any different?
Your provider may be your consultant on pregnancy and birth-related matters, but you have the ultimate authority to decide what’s right for you. What your providers express to you is simply their opinion.
If your provider is a good one, they will work alongside you, not act as if they are above you. They will tell you what is standard practice, what the alternatives are, and that you have the option to decline tests and procedures if you wish. And then, when you make a choice, they will respect it. No guilt. No scare tactics.
So do your research - know what you want out of your providers, and what’s right for you at your appointments. If the first team you choose doesn’t fit - fire them and find a new one. You don’t have to settle for sub-par care.
It's Not Cord Blood, it's Your Baby's Blood
At birth, ⅓ (or more) of your baby’s blood is still in the placenta. That means if you immediately cut the cord, your baby is missing A LOT of blood.
If you were missing ⅓ (33%) of your blood, your heart and respiratory rates would increase, your blood pressure would drop, and you would become anxious and confused. If you lost 40% of your blood, all those symptoms would be worse and you would become lethargic.
If you lost more than 40% you would die.
So how long should you wait after birth to clamp the cord?
Ideally you would “wait for white”. This means the cord isn’t clamped until it has stopped pulsing and turned white because all of the blood is now inside the baby. This is usually over 5 minutes (I’ve waited until the birth of the placenta with my two homebirths [about an hour]).
But delaying cord clamping for even 60 seconds has been shown to have benefits including:
Increased hemoglobin
Increased iron
Increased blood pressure (early clamping means BP can be too low)
Increased urinary output
Increased body temperature (early clamping babies are colder)
If baby is having a slower transition to breathing outside the womb upon their birth, keeping them attached to the cord will also continue to provide them with oxygen until they begin breathing on their own.
I had a miscarriage...again
My first pregnancy ended in what’s called a “missed miscarriage” - a miscarriage where the baby stops developing, but your body doesn’t realize they have passed for many more weeks. This means you continue to have pregnancy symptoms, and your uterus continues to grow. I had my first inkling that something could be wrong with that pregnancy when, at 10 weeks along, I went in for my first appointment with my homebirth midwife. At that stage you can usually hear the heartbeat with a Doppler ultrasound device, but we couldn’t find one. Maybe it was too early, we decided. We’d try again at the next visit.
That afternoon I went home to notice I was spotting light brown blood, and also noticed that I didn’t have the breast tenderness I once had. I called my midwife and I decided to go in for an ultrasound. “I’m sorry, this isn’t a good pregnancy,” was all the doctor who performed my scan had to say.
I cried. I blamed myself. I cried some more. I went to my OB to decide what to do next. Should I let my body miscarry on its own? Should I take medication? Should I schedule a D&C (dilation and curettage - a surgery to remove the “products of conception”, as they call them)? I decided that I wanted this process to move along so I could heal and grieve, and so I chose to take Misoprostol at home to bring on labor.
I birthed that little baby, and everything that came with it, into the toilet. There was so much blood. It was painful. It was sad. But I was glad it was over.
My second pregnancy resulted in my first son. My third pregnancy was healthy as well and gave me a second son. But then my fourth pregnancy ended in an early loss (6 weeks), and I was devastated all over again. My fifth pregnancy gave me my third son at the end of 2020.
That was two and a half years ago. At the time when my third son was born, I thought for sure I was done. I was 39, I had three boys, and I was tired. But as my third baby grew, so did my longing to go through pregnancy, birth and breastfeeding just one more time.
In October 2022 I found out I was expecting again and was so excited. It happened right after my first postpartum period, as many of my pregnancies have. Maybe this will be my little girl, I thought. And then, as the doorbell rang and guests arrived for Thanksgiving, I wiped and saw a spot of blood. I hoped everything was okay, but in my heart I knew it wasn’t. Entertaining for a holiday while wondering if I was losing a baby that I hadn’t told anyone about seemed impossible. I went on to lose that baby at 6 weeks, just like the last time.
And then I started to worry. I was almost 42. Was I too old? Would I never get a chance to mother another tiny human? Would my last son be the last child I nursed to sleep at night?
But right before my 42nd birthday I found out I was expecting again. Like every other time I was excited, but held my breath. I told my husband and oldest son, but no one else. I waited until 9 weeks to even contact my midwives, hoping that if I made it that long it meant things would be okay. I had no real reason to suspect that anything wasn’t right, but had this sad feeling inside that I couldn’t explain.
I anxiously awaited my midwife appointment, which I purposefully waited to schedule at almost 11 weeks so we’d have a better chance of hearing the heartbeat. I knew that would allow me to breathe again. My midwife could tell that I was concerned, so we started right away with the Doppler to see what we could hear. But there was nothing, no matter how hard we tried. Was it still too early? Maybe. But maybe my intuition was right. Maybe it was happening again, just like the first time. We tried a portable ultrasound machine. We could see a sac and something inside, but no movement, no heartbeat. My midwife warned me that she wasn’t well-trained in ultrasound, so not to be concerned.
When I went home I wiped and saw the tiniest spot of blood. Was the exact same scenario as my first repeating itself? I cried into a pile of laundry in the bathroom, whispering to myself, “please, not again. Please, not again.” But my cries couldn’t stop what was coming. As the days progressed I bled more. I had an ultrasound a few days later to make sure the miscarriage was moving along well, since I remembered how bloody the first one was at 10 weeks, and we had a vacation to Legoland scheduled the following week. I was worried that I would have to go to the hospital in another state and ruin our trip, so I wanted to make sure that the bleeding would slow down by then. Things seemed to be going well, so I chose to let my body miscarry on its own, without the medication that I had used with my first.
After my ultrasound I went to buy milk with all the kids in the van. I put the milk on the seat next to me, buckled myself in, and felt a gush. I bled through my pants. I had never done that before, not in all the years since I got my period at age 11. I went to the diaper bag, turned the wet bag inside-out and covered it with napkins. I drove home. The kids stayed in the car while I cleaned myself up, and then, like we all do as mothers, I kept on with my day. I had to. With no help, my husband at work, and three little guys to care for, it’s what had to be done.
After that the bleeding slowed, which I was so thankful for. We could go on our trip, and I may even be able to swim with my kids. We drove 3.5 hours, successfully navigated Legoland, visited my in-laws in NYC, and drove 4 hours home. The bleeding was almost gone. I put away everything from our trip, cleaned the whole house, and went to bed around 12am. I was glad to be home.
At 4am my eyes opened wide from a dead sleep. Something wasn’t right. I went to the bathroom in the darkness, trying not to wake anyone else. I flipped on the bathroom light to find blood dripping down my legs. Blood was pouring out of me. I couldn’t stop it. I was filling a pad in a single minute. I woke my husband to tell him I needed help and to call an ambulance. I had thought this miscarriage was over, but it was actually only beginning.
I was losing more blood than I had ever seen myself lose, even after my full-term births. “Are they here yet?!” I called out to my husband as I attempted to clean myself up. They were on their way. It had only been minutes, but it felt like an eternity. What if I kept bleeding this way? What if it couldn’t be stopped? What if this was the last time I saw my family?
I managed to change into black pants and a black t-shirt, which would make me feel better about being covered in blood. I grabbed my purse and phone and walked into the ambulance. My vitals remained okay as we traveled the 10 minute ride to the hospital, but inside my mind was spinning. The bleeding hadn’t slowed - I could feel it gushing out of me. I was worried about how quickly I would be treated, and even more worried that I would lose consciousness and wake up without a uterus. I’ve heard way too many horror stories to be naive to that possibility.
I was brought to a room quickly, but no one checked my bleeding. They covered me in a blanket and left me there with the curtain closed and no call button. I told them I needed help. The male nurse I was assigned treated me like a burden, and kept repeating that my vitals were all fine. Had he looked under that blanket he might have thought differently. “How long will it be before I see a doctor?” I asked. “I’m literally gushing blood, and probably need medication or a D&C to make it stop.” “He’s very busy. It’s going to be a while,” he replied. “This may not seem like an emergency now, but I’m telling you it will become one,” I said. His response to that was to stab me in the forearm and give me fluids without warning or consent, and then to close the curtain again, leaving me with no way to contact anyone, still bleeding beneath the blanket.
Soon my hands started to go numb. I felt like I was going to throw up. I knew I was about to pass out, and I was scared about what they would do if I was unconscious. “Help!” I cried out. The male nurse returned. “I feel like I’m going to pass out.” “How do you know what it feels like to pass out?” he asked, condescendingly. “Because it’s happened to me before when I’ve reacted to vaccines and medications,” I replied. I knew he wasn’t taking me seriously. “It’s because you’re breathing wrong,” he said, blaming me. “You need to calm yourself down.” “It could also be because of blood loss,” I responded. He left the room. He still hadn’t looked under that blanket.
I started to feel intense cramping, like early labor contractions. This went on for a while. My mouth was dry, so I coughed, and I could feel that a huge clot had come out of me. A new, female nurse came in. She asked how I was feeling and I told her I had been ignored and that I was covered in blood. Finally, someone removed the blanket. She gasped. My clothes were covered. The bed sheets were soaked through. Blood was everywhere.
The nurse called for another female to assist her and, together, they cleaned me up. They removed my pants and underwear, tossing my long-ago soaked pad. They noticed the clot I had felt, which turned out to likely be my baby, and they carefully set it aside in a container. They wiped my back, since blood had pooled all the way up it, changed my sheets, and got me into a diaper. Someone had finally noticed me.
From the time when my baby left my body the bleeding began to slow. I waited hours more to see a doctor, and hours after that for an ultrasound to make sure there was no more tissue to surprise me with more bleeding later. Everything looked okay, and I was cleared to go home. As much as I wanted to take my baby with me to bury in my yard, it was important for me to send him or her off for chromosomal testing. This was my first chance at that, after four losses, and I needed to see if there was a reason why this had happened.
My husband and kids arrived with some clean clothes. I changed, and we swung by the milk store where I had bled through my clothes two weeks before. I was able to go home, rest a bit and shower, but then it was back to reality, where there were other people who depended on me, and there was no one to take my place.
I wondered when I decided to miscarry naturally at 10 weeks gestation if it would be better or worse than taking medication to move things along. Though more predictable, the medicated experience was traumatizing for me, especially as my first pregnancy. I really hoped it would be better to let my body miscarry on its own, and I wanted to give it a chance. My losses at 6 weeks were more like really sad, heavy periods, and I was hoping it would be more like that than like birthing a baby who had passed.
And it really had seemed like things were going well all through our trip, which I’m so thankful for. I could have started bleeding like I did that night while in the car on the way home, or while we were at Legoland, or in my in-laws’ apartment. But I didn’t. I was able to be in my home, near my family, where things were more familiar. My children mostly slept through it, had breakfast like they usually do (except without me), and picked me up a few hours later. They fought in the car like we didn’t skip a beat.
If I had to choose again, I would choose the predictability of medication. Now having the two stories to compare, it would have been so much easier to know for sure everything was over, rather than worrying for 3 weeks and waking up covered in blood.
This experience taught me a lot, but it didn’t dissuade me from wanting to become a mother one last time. I plan to give myself some time to heal and focus on myself, and then try again. I know there is one last little soul in there, it’s just a matter of waiting on their timing.
You Have to be Your Own Advocate During Birth, and that's Bullshit
You shouldn't have to fight to be treated with respect.
You should just be respected.
You shouldn't have to get a PhD in labor & birth statistics to have your choices taken seriously & to receive support.
You should just be supported.
You are an adult capable of making decisions for yourself. End of story.
There is nothing wrong with educating yourself about how your body works and about your options, but you shouldn't have to do that in order to not be abused or taken advantage of.
You could read every research article & book, attend every class, or do none of it, and you should be treated the same.
But that's not how it is.
You have to go in with a plan/a paid support person/ready to fight.
And it's bullshit.
You are More than a Vessel
You are so much more than a container for growing a baby.
But mainstream maternity care likely won’t treat you that way.
Women are often made to feel that they are selfish, or even reckless, for having a plan for their birth - especially those who deviate from the standard protocol.
You want an alternative to the glucose tolerance test? Want to forego ultrasounds? Don’t want to be induced at 39 weeks? You must not care about your baby.
It’s almost as if providers don’t understand that a healthy baby doesn’t have to come at the expense of your physical & emotional well-being - that you don’t have to become a martyr and sacrifice yourself in order for that to happen.
You can have a healthy baby AND an amazing birth experience. They don’t have to be mutually exclusive.
You should emerge from your birth feeling like you can do anything, not battered and broken in the name of “health”.
You are important. What happens to you matters. You are more than a vessel.
Can Water Birth Prevent Tearing?
Can giving birth in water prevent perineal tearing?
You bet it can!
Warm water can help the perineum become more elastic & relaxed, reducing the incidence and severity of tearing.
But that’s not the only benefit…
Warm water is relaxing & comforting
Buoyancy in water lessens a mother’s body weight, allowing for freedom of movement & easy position changes
Immersion in water often helps lower high blood pressure caused by anxiety
Water reduces stress-related hormones, allowing the mother’s body to produce endorphins which serve as pain-inhibitors
Water provides a greater sense of privacy, thereby reducing inhibitions, anxiety, & fears
For a more complete list of benefits visit https://americanpregnancy.org and search “water birth”.