CHEESE.
Texting his girlfriend. Check out that ducktail!
He's at that stage where he is starting to become a little boy, but is still a baby. STAY A BABY.
You'd think they were related or something.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Recent Recentness
Jacob likes to sit on the end table when we watch TV. I let him do it because I like the way his hair glows under the lamp.
CHEESE.
Texting his girlfriend. Check out that ducktail!
He's at that stage where he is starting to become a little boy, but is still a baby. STAY A BABY.
You'd think they were related or something.
CHEESE.
Texting his girlfriend. Check out that ducktail!
He's at that stage where he is starting to become a little boy, but is still a baby. STAY A BABY.
You'd think they were related or something.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Not A Birth Rant OR Baby Pictures!
What-what?! Whatever shall we do!
This is another, less-blogged-about obsession of mine: abandoned houses. I love looking at photographs of them. I don't quite know why they intrigue me, but they do. I've always wanted to explore a few abandonments around my neighborhood, but since I almost always have one or two little ones with me, I don't get the chance very often. But a dear friend of mine wanted me to be a model for a "ghost story" project she was doing for her photography class, and I jumped at the chance to have an exploring buddy (you should never explore abandonments alone). So we killed two birds with one stone: she shot for her project, and I shot for my abandonment fetish. ;)
I pulled 51 images from what I shot, but I'm not posting them all here. You can view the set in its entirety at the LJ community abandonedplaces.
This house is in a much smaller town (pop. 284) near the small town in which I live. It sits right by a busy road, the grass you see on the right is the narrow strip behind the guardrail. It is built into a steep riverbank, which is probably why it hasn't been torn down yet - no way to get demolition vehicles to it.
Bits of newspaper were drifting amongst the debris that covered the floors. As luck would have it, the very first piece I picked up had the date on it. That places the abandonment in at least the 1940s, but there was no plumbing or electricity in the house, so I'm not sure when it was built.
The kitchen.
Let's head upstairs! Note the Red Bull can...one of very few signs of modern life we found. I was surprised to not find more. We do have a high concentration of bored teenagers in this area and I expected the entire place to be filled with Budweiser cans and immature graffiti.
One of the bedrooms. They all had straw mattresses, complete with pillows, blankets, and sheets, albeit long since rent asunder.
Click here to see the cat skeleton I found nestled in the above mattress.
Lovely view.
This book was scattered in pieces all over another bedroom. I, uh, just bought a copy of this on Amazon, because I really want to read the rest now. *blush*
There was an attic that I poked my head into, but there was nothing up there but bird/bat shit and more straw. So I went down to the basement. This was the only room that gave me the heeby-jeebies, so I shot quickly and moved into the second part of the basement. Check out that huge crack in the foundation. The house had settled quite a bit in 60 years: the floorboards had pulled away from the wall in some places, leaving gaps where you could see what was below.
Basement Part 2: a washroom, maybe?
This bucket ain't gonna be doin' no washin' no mo'!
My partner in crime...
For her story project I wore my wedding dress (very wrinkled from being in storage). So I shot all the above pictures while dragging this train around and getting it caught on every godforsaken thing! Good thing it was still filthy from my outdoor wedding 5 years ago since I never got it cleaned afterwards...
Hope you enjoyed! I sure did!
This is another, less-blogged-about obsession of mine: abandoned houses. I love looking at photographs of them. I don't quite know why they intrigue me, but they do. I've always wanted to explore a few abandonments around my neighborhood, but since I almost always have one or two little ones with me, I don't get the chance very often. But a dear friend of mine wanted me to be a model for a "ghost story" project she was doing for her photography class, and I jumped at the chance to have an exploring buddy (you should never explore abandonments alone). So we killed two birds with one stone: she shot for her project, and I shot for my abandonment fetish. ;)
I pulled 51 images from what I shot, but I'm not posting them all here. You can view the set in its entirety at the LJ community abandonedplaces.
This house is in a much smaller town (pop. 284) near the small town in which I live. It sits right by a busy road, the grass you see on the right is the narrow strip behind the guardrail. It is built into a steep riverbank, which is probably why it hasn't been torn down yet - no way to get demolition vehicles to it.
Bits of newspaper were drifting amongst the debris that covered the floors. As luck would have it, the very first piece I picked up had the date on it. That places the abandonment in at least the 1940s, but there was no plumbing or electricity in the house, so I'm not sure when it was built.
The kitchen.
Let's head upstairs! Note the Red Bull can...one of very few signs of modern life we found. I was surprised to not find more. We do have a high concentration of bored teenagers in this area and I expected the entire place to be filled with Budweiser cans and immature graffiti.
One of the bedrooms. They all had straw mattresses, complete with pillows, blankets, and sheets, albeit long since rent asunder.
Click here to see the cat skeleton I found nestled in the above mattress.
Lovely view.
This book was scattered in pieces all over another bedroom. I, uh, just bought a copy of this on Amazon, because I really want to read the rest now. *blush*
There was an attic that I poked my head into, but there was nothing up there but bird/bat shit and more straw. So I went down to the basement. This was the only room that gave me the heeby-jeebies, so I shot quickly and moved into the second part of the basement. Check out that huge crack in the foundation. The house had settled quite a bit in 60 years: the floorboards had pulled away from the wall in some places, leaving gaps where you could see what was below.
Basement Part 2: a washroom, maybe?
This bucket ain't gonna be doin' no washin' no mo'!
My partner in crime...
For her story project I wore my wedding dress (very wrinkled from being in storage). So I shot all the above pictures while dragging this train around and getting it caught on every godforsaken thing! Good thing it was still filthy from my outdoor wedding 5 years ago since I never got it cleaned afterwards...
Hope you enjoyed! I sure did!
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Criticizing Birth
I love analogies. Let's imagine you're an artist, getting ready to paint a canvas. You have a full array of colors, brushes, and tools at your disposal. You start to work on your painting, and reach for a certain hue of blue you'd like to use, but the pot falls out of your hand and smashes on the floor. Damn. You keep on painting anyway. You reach for a special brush to fill in the details, but as you apply it to the canvas, the bristles break off. Double damn! You are a little disappointed, because your painting isn't quite what you envisioned now that you can't use that specific color blue and that little brush. Nevertheless, you finish up as best you can, and you're pretty pleased with the results. You take your painting to a gallery and hang it on the wall. As you step back to admire it, someone walks up and says, "Nice painting. But you really should have used some more blue on this part, and it's not quite perfect without the details of a small brush around this part here. Oh well."
That's kind of how I feel when I see people criticizing a woman's birth.
I've been trying to write this post for days. It's been a hard one for me, because as usual, I'm a fence-straddler. I mean, we're birth junkies. This is what we do. We talk about birth. We debate, analyze, and discuss every single little niggling detail, and never tire of it. In doing so we aim to normalize healthy birth practices and eradicate dangerous, non-evidence-based ones. And hell yes, we get MAD about it.
But at the same time, it makes me want to punch my computer screen. Are we incapable of typing "Congrats on your birth!" without tacking on a "...but" at the end? Why do we feel the need to henpeck every birth we see or read about? There is no such thing as a perfect birth - you could find ANYTHING in ANY birth to nitpick apart. So why does it seem like we are demanding a standard of 100% five-star excellence for every single birth that happens?
You know, I used to get defensive when I heard people making this claim, that we birth advocates are self-righteous assholes whose only concern is getting the "perfect experience" no matter what the cost, and look down on all the women who fall short of that ideal. I would angrily think to myself that they were missing the point - we're just striving for a normalization of the safe, healthy, happy birth that every mother and baby deserves! We aren't out to make anybody feel bad.
Or are we??
I'm glad I held off for a few days writing this entry, because the perfect example of this phenomenon just took place last night. You've probably heard about Lynsee, a teacher from Minnesota, who decided to broadcast her first child's birth live on the internet. Like thousands of other women, you probably watched the webcast. I didn't, mainly because hospital births make me feel like a Vietnam vet hurling himself behind the couch and screaming "Charlie in the trees!" at the sound of firecrackers. I don't have access to any recorded footage, so I'm not sure if there's any way to see it if you missed out (although Jill from Unnecesarean has some adorable screencaps). However, you might not have to watch it to get the general gist of what went down. I followed the comments thread on Jill's Facebook fanpage, and watched a hue and cry rise up: "Why did she get an epidural??" "Why did they keep the baby in the warmer so long??" "Why didn't they do skin-to-skin?" "Whywhywhywhywhy?"
It didn't help that this birth, in my mind, piggybacked on another birth of a friend of a friend, who had a hospital VBAC that she was pleased with and yet had to face down a barrage of "shouldn't have gotten the epidural," "too many vaginal exams," forced pushing is bad," comments. I just wanted to scream, "SHE HAD A FUCKING VBAC!!!! That's more than the vast majority of C-section moms even consider doing, and you want to pick her apart for having a goddamn epidural?? SHUT! UP!"
I'm not completely innocent, though. I will admit that I do the mental critique myself. I recently watched Alexandra Orchard's HBA2C video and although it was a magnificent, triumphant birth that had me shouting with joy at my desk, I cringed to see her midwives immediately suctioning the baby, rather aggressively, and jamming a hat on her head the minute she was born. I thought it totally unnecessary and annoying. But, I kept my critique to myself. Alexandra clearly enjoyed her VBAC. I'm not going to be the one to tarnish what someone views as a positive experience. I'm not going to be the one going, "Nice painting....BUT."
It almost seems to me that we forget that the postpartum period (and not just the few hours after birth) is still an important part of the birth experience. Women can be vulnerable and suggestible during labor, but they can be ten times more fragile afterwards, especially the first-timers (and hell, even the seasoned moms can doubt themselves too). Between groggy 3 a.m. feedings, meconium, and fluids leaking from what appears to be a Bermuda Triangle made of enormous, swollen faucets, the mom is often stricken with worries of "Am I feeding the baby right?" "Am I comforting her right?" "Am I dressing him right?" With so much confusion, it seems cruel to force her to wonder, "Did I birth right?"
Chances are, the mom has probably already done a self-analysis of what happened, and if not, she will soon...or eventually. I'm not saying we should clamp our lips, smile and nod, and pretend that a nightmarish birth is just hunky-dory. What I'm saying is, let her lead the way. If you have misgivings about her birth, but she is happy with it, wait for your cue to let her know you agree. If it never comes, then so be it. If she is angry, allow her to be. Sympathize. Empathize. If she wonders what went wrong, gently guide her towards the answer. But whatever the case, STOP TELLING HER HOW TO FEEL. If we insist that a woman be furious about _____ that happened during her birth, we are no better than those who say, "You should be grateful that you have a healthy baby, that's all that matters." Demanding that all women birth in one specific way according to what we believe is best is not going to work, no matter if you are forcing them to put their feet in stirrups like a stranded beetle or squat in a pool of water like a cavewoman.
In the end, it is the mother's birth. Some say that what happens during one birth affects all of us, and in a way I can buy into that one-love, harmony-and-unity vibe. I for sure felt it hard and strong during my second labor, like I was on a spiritual plane with every other woman throughout time who had ever given birth. But if you step back and think objectively, it is still just her birth. Not your birth. How it makes you feel is not how it made her feel. It happened to her, she took part in it, and it will affect HER for the rest of her life. Not you. Speak softly, and tread that line between thoughtful discussion and idealistic oppression.
In an ideal world, every woman would be able to birth her baby happily at home, into her own hands, and the midwife would sit quietly nearby, calmly shepherding their sacred space. It would be perfect, unhindered, unrushed, and overflowing with blooming love. But this world is not ideal and neither is birth. To expect this to unfold in every single birth, regardless of location, is nothing short of delusional, especially when there are so many other factors at play than just what the birthing mother wants and needs. So while we lend a compassionate ear to women processing their experiences, instead of railing against their choices, let's rail against the system that encourages these unnecessary practices we abhor.
L.G. summed up it perfectly in my comments: "....I steadfastly insisted that, ultimately, our goal as doulas, midwives, birth advocates, etc., is NOT that everyone has the same 'crunchy' experience, but that every birthing woman is treated with respect, given information based on evidence, not fear or coercion, and allowed to make informed choices without being made to feel guilty or 'less than.'"
That's kind of how I feel when I see people criticizing a woman's birth.
I've been trying to write this post for days. It's been a hard one for me, because as usual, I'm a fence-straddler. I mean, we're birth junkies. This is what we do. We talk about birth. We debate, analyze, and discuss every single little niggling detail, and never tire of it. In doing so we aim to normalize healthy birth practices and eradicate dangerous, non-evidence-based ones. And hell yes, we get MAD about it.
But at the same time, it makes me want to punch my computer screen. Are we incapable of typing "Congrats on your birth!" without tacking on a "...but" at the end? Why do we feel the need to henpeck every birth we see or read about? There is no such thing as a perfect birth - you could find ANYTHING in ANY birth to nitpick apart. So why does it seem like we are demanding a standard of 100% five-star excellence for every single birth that happens?
You know, I used to get defensive when I heard people making this claim, that we birth advocates are self-righteous assholes whose only concern is getting the "perfect experience" no matter what the cost, and look down on all the women who fall short of that ideal. I would angrily think to myself that they were missing the point - we're just striving for a normalization of the safe, healthy, happy birth that every mother and baby deserves! We aren't out to make anybody feel bad.
Or are we??
I'm glad I held off for a few days writing this entry, because the perfect example of this phenomenon just took place last night. You've probably heard about Lynsee, a teacher from Minnesota, who decided to broadcast her first child's birth live on the internet. Like thousands of other women, you probably watched the webcast. I didn't, mainly because hospital births make me feel like a Vietnam vet hurling himself behind the couch and screaming "Charlie in the trees!" at the sound of firecrackers. I don't have access to any recorded footage, so I'm not sure if there's any way to see it if you missed out (although Jill from Unnecesarean has some adorable screencaps). However, you might not have to watch it to get the general gist of what went down. I followed the comments thread on Jill's Facebook fanpage, and watched a hue and cry rise up: "Why did she get an epidural??" "Why did they keep the baby in the warmer so long??" "Why didn't they do skin-to-skin?" "Whywhywhywhywhy?"
It didn't help that this birth, in my mind, piggybacked on another birth of a friend of a friend, who had a hospital VBAC that she was pleased with and yet had to face down a barrage of "shouldn't have gotten the epidural," "too many vaginal exams," forced pushing is bad," comments. I just wanted to scream, "SHE HAD A FUCKING VBAC!!!! That's more than the vast majority of C-section moms even consider doing, and you want to pick her apart for having a goddamn epidural?? SHUT! UP!"
I'm not completely innocent, though. I will admit that I do the mental critique myself. I recently watched Alexandra Orchard's HBA2C video and although it was a magnificent, triumphant birth that had me shouting with joy at my desk, I cringed to see her midwives immediately suctioning the baby, rather aggressively, and jamming a hat on her head the minute she was born. I thought it totally unnecessary and annoying. But, I kept my critique to myself. Alexandra clearly enjoyed her VBAC. I'm not going to be the one to tarnish what someone views as a positive experience. I'm not going to be the one going, "Nice painting....BUT."
It almost seems to me that we forget that the postpartum period (and not just the few hours after birth) is still an important part of the birth experience. Women can be vulnerable and suggestible during labor, but they can be ten times more fragile afterwards, especially the first-timers (and hell, even the seasoned moms can doubt themselves too). Between groggy 3 a.m. feedings, meconium, and fluids leaking from what appears to be a Bermuda Triangle made of enormous, swollen faucets, the mom is often stricken with worries of "Am I feeding the baby right?" "Am I comforting her right?" "Am I dressing him right?" With so much confusion, it seems cruel to force her to wonder, "Did I birth right?"
Chances are, the mom has probably already done a self-analysis of what happened, and if not, she will soon...or eventually. I'm not saying we should clamp our lips, smile and nod, and pretend that a nightmarish birth is just hunky-dory. What I'm saying is, let her lead the way. If you have misgivings about her birth, but she is happy with it, wait for your cue to let her know you agree. If it never comes, then so be it. If she is angry, allow her to be. Sympathize. Empathize. If she wonders what went wrong, gently guide her towards the answer. But whatever the case, STOP TELLING HER HOW TO FEEL. If we insist that a woman be furious about _____ that happened during her birth, we are no better than those who say, "You should be grateful that you have a healthy baby, that's all that matters." Demanding that all women birth in one specific way according to what we believe is best is not going to work, no matter if you are forcing them to put their feet in stirrups like a stranded beetle or squat in a pool of water like a cavewoman.
In the end, it is the mother's birth. Some say that what happens during one birth affects all of us, and in a way I can buy into that one-love, harmony-and-unity vibe. I for sure felt it hard and strong during my second labor, like I was on a spiritual plane with every other woman throughout time who had ever given birth. But if you step back and think objectively, it is still just her birth. Not your birth. How it makes you feel is not how it made her feel. It happened to her, she took part in it, and it will affect HER for the rest of her life. Not you. Speak softly, and tread that line between thoughtful discussion and idealistic oppression.
In an ideal world, every woman would be able to birth her baby happily at home, into her own hands, and the midwife would sit quietly nearby, calmly shepherding their sacred space. It would be perfect, unhindered, unrushed, and overflowing with blooming love. But this world is not ideal and neither is birth. To expect this to unfold in every single birth, regardless of location, is nothing short of delusional, especially when there are so many other factors at play than just what the birthing mother wants and needs. So while we lend a compassionate ear to women processing their experiences, instead of railing against their choices, let's rail against the system that encourages these unnecessary practices we abhor.
L.G. summed up it perfectly in my comments: "....I steadfastly insisted that, ultimately, our goal as doulas, midwives, birth advocates, etc., is NOT that everyone has the same 'crunchy' experience, but that every birthing woman is treated with respect, given information based on evidence, not fear or coercion, and allowed to make informed choices without being made to feel guilty or 'less than.'"
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
How Does Birth Impact A Mother?
I've been mulling over this post by Rixa, which was inspired by this post from Kate, a blogger I hadn't read before. Interestingly, although they are about the same topic, they've both inspired me to write completely different blogposts. Don't you love when that happens...someone writes about something, another blogger writes her own thoughts on it, another does the same, and it goes round and round like a bird gathering bits of wool from a barbed wire fence for a nest. It's so interesting to see the direction an idea can take. I'll start with the deep thoughts stirred up by Rixa's words first.
How does birth impact a mother? The answer falls anywhere on a wide, varied spectrum. On one end of the spectrum, you've got the "birth is the absolute most important event in a mother's life" people, as illustrated by this truthful but polarizing article by Jan Ritten of Midwifery Today, which inspired the second of the two blog links I posted above. On the other end are those who view birth as just something you do to get a baby, a process to be completed - if it's good, it's good; if it sucks, it sucks; but once it's over, it's over. It's not really important in the grand scheme of things.
I'm not sure on which side of the fence I fall. I guess like in most things in life where there's a fence, I straddle it. Birth, to me, is definitely important. But is it THE most important thing in your or your child's life? Not really. And to say otherwise would do women a disservice, because birth is by nature a wild beast that can go rogue with no warning, and it's cruel and petty to verbally beat up women who fall prey to the werewolf (but that's what my next post is going to be about, so I'll just leave it at that). However, to say that birth holds absolutely no meaning isn't necessarily true either, at least not in my opinion.
I think the problem with these two lines of thinking is that they both seem to believe that only a "good", i.e. natural/drug-free/vaginal/home/water/etc. birth is capable of being a life-changing event. The former cling to this gold standard, and the latter reject, nay, outright abhor it, but vilifying something is still giving it power.
I believe that EVERY birth has the potential to transform a woman and offer her many lessons she can apply throughout her life, instead of just being one day of empowerment and awesomeness (or trauma and suckitude). Take for instance the births of my two children. They could hardly be more different. One, a Cesarean after a long hospital labor with "the works." The other, a VBAC waterbirth at home. Both have taught me countless things that have shaped who I am, not only as a mother, but as a woman and a human being.
Jameson's birth, my Cesarean, first and foremost taught me self-reliance. I thought that if I read all the books and took the Lamaze class and filled out my birth plan that everything would fall into place. Oh, what a naive little girl I was! I had no support. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Nothing. I reached out in desperation and nobody reached back (this is how I often feel when I am in the throes of one of my frequent bouts of depression - how sad that I can liken the birth of my first child to that). So I learned to look to myself to be the rock I needed. At the same time I learned that I would have to dig deeper than the surface to find what I was looking for, because all that happy claptrap I read in books taught me NOTHING about how posterior labor would really feel, especially when you're alone and scared. And although I wanted to beat my chest and go, "Why didn't anyone teeelllll me?" I knew that I should have sought it out myself, because no one dumps this information in your lap (unfortunately).
From Jameson's birth, I also learned to stand up for myself. For nearly all my life I was the person who tried to stay out of the way and wanted to make people like her. Don't make waves, just go with the flow. Well, the flow got me flushed down the drain, and I have the scar to remind me. I was about to go against the grain in a lot of ways in regards to my parenting style, and even more so when it came time to birth my next child, so knowing that not only was it OKAY to do so, but quite necessary, was very useful. I was also taught maturity, i.e. shut the hell up and do your homework, although admittedly this one took a few years to come to fruition. I spent a lot of time running my mouth in the "Rawr! Hospitals are evil and OBs are the devil!" I think learning the truth about what really happened during my Cesarean that caused my hemmorage sobered me right up. All along I'd just thought I'd been the victim of the crappy hospital system and "Cesareans suck, bla bla bla," which I was, yes, but the actual story was much worse than I could have even imagined, and defied all the fist-pumping rhetoric. Funny how when I figured out exactly how bad it was, my yammering about how bad it was came to a standstill.
And then it was time to give birth to my second child. More than ever, Jacob's birth called on me to be strong. Although I had lots of virtual support, when it came to the people that were actually in my life, they weren't really there for me. Even one of my midwives (the one who wound up not being there - I gave birth with my other midwife and her assistant, probably the only two real-life people who believed in me) was doubtful that I could do it. But I did, and it steel-beam-reinforced that massive inner strength I had to call upon. This was the core of the impact Jacob's birth had on me, and it unfolded in seperate but similar ways. I am strong, therefore I can get through anything. I am strong, therefore if I try hard enough, I can do anything. I am strong, therefore what other people think does not matter.
I also learned what it felt like to be IN THE MOMENT. I think I coped with a lot of what happened before, during, and after my Cesarean by going outside my body and watching passively from afar, a trick I honed to near-perfection from a traumatic childhood and adolescence. I detached myself far away from the moment. But when Jacob's head came out of me and into my hand in the water, never before had I felt more alive and RIGHT THERE. For the first time I did not need to detach myself to survive. No, the only way to get through was to throw my whole self into it, with every fiber of my being.
I never really felt "broken" after my Cesarean like many moms do. It's strange, because I did feel that burning urge to prove everyone wrong, but I never felt that doubt that usually fuels it for many VBACers. I was nervous, and worried, but I never really thought to myself that I couldn't do it. Nevertheless, Jacob's birth was the most triumphant, victorious moment of my life up to that point, and thus far, since. I mean, cripes - it's been over a year and I still yap about it. For a good while I wouldn't shut up about it. "Look at me! Look what I did! I pushed a baby out of my vagina! I'm AWESOME!" And I never once meant it in an "anyone who hasn't pushed a baby out of their vagina isn't awesome!" way. Like I said, there is the potential for personal growth in ALL of life's experiences.
Both of my children's births were profoundly important in my life. But they are hardly the axis that my or their lives revolve around. Although I still cuddle Jacob and think of him as my VBAC baby, I don't look at Jameson and think of him as my Cesarean baby. I suppose the potency of Jacob's birth might fade eventually - the pain certainly has! - but the power I gained never will. And what I learned from Jameson's birth set me up to recieve it, so those lessons will always be with me.
Kate pointed out something that I have thought a few times myself, when someone refers to "my birth," it's actually her child's birth. But, in a sense, it's also her birth. Not every woman is reborn with every child she gives birth to, but I was, and certainly many other women have been.
How does birth impact a mother? The answer falls anywhere on a wide, varied spectrum. On one end of the spectrum, you've got the "birth is the absolute most important event in a mother's life" people, as illustrated by this truthful but polarizing article by Jan Ritten of Midwifery Today, which inspired the second of the two blog links I posted above. On the other end are those who view birth as just something you do to get a baby, a process to be completed - if it's good, it's good; if it sucks, it sucks; but once it's over, it's over. It's not really important in the grand scheme of things.
I'm not sure on which side of the fence I fall. I guess like in most things in life where there's a fence, I straddle it. Birth, to me, is definitely important. But is it THE most important thing in your or your child's life? Not really. And to say otherwise would do women a disservice, because birth is by nature a wild beast that can go rogue with no warning, and it's cruel and petty to verbally beat up women who fall prey to the werewolf (but that's what my next post is going to be about, so I'll just leave it at that). However, to say that birth holds absolutely no meaning isn't necessarily true either, at least not in my opinion.
I think the problem with these two lines of thinking is that they both seem to believe that only a "good", i.e. natural/drug-free/vaginal/home/water/etc. birth is capable of being a life-changing event. The former cling to this gold standard, and the latter reject, nay, outright abhor it, but vilifying something is still giving it power.
I believe that EVERY birth has the potential to transform a woman and offer her many lessons she can apply throughout her life, instead of just being one day of empowerment and awesomeness (or trauma and suckitude). Take for instance the births of my two children. They could hardly be more different. One, a Cesarean after a long hospital labor with "the works." The other, a VBAC waterbirth at home. Both have taught me countless things that have shaped who I am, not only as a mother, but as a woman and a human being.
Jameson's birth, my Cesarean, first and foremost taught me self-reliance. I thought that if I read all the books and took the Lamaze class and filled out my birth plan that everything would fall into place. Oh, what a naive little girl I was! I had no support. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Nothing. I reached out in desperation and nobody reached back (this is how I often feel when I am in the throes of one of my frequent bouts of depression - how sad that I can liken the birth of my first child to that). So I learned to look to myself to be the rock I needed. At the same time I learned that I would have to dig deeper than the surface to find what I was looking for, because all that happy claptrap I read in books taught me NOTHING about how posterior labor would really feel, especially when you're alone and scared. And although I wanted to beat my chest and go, "Why didn't anyone teeelllll me?" I knew that I should have sought it out myself, because no one dumps this information in your lap (unfortunately).
From Jameson's birth, I also learned to stand up for myself. For nearly all my life I was the person who tried to stay out of the way and wanted to make people like her. Don't make waves, just go with the flow. Well, the flow got me flushed down the drain, and I have the scar to remind me. I was about to go against the grain in a lot of ways in regards to my parenting style, and even more so when it came time to birth my next child, so knowing that not only was it OKAY to do so, but quite necessary, was very useful. I was also taught maturity, i.e. shut the hell up and do your homework, although admittedly this one took a few years to come to fruition. I spent a lot of time running my mouth in the "Rawr! Hospitals are evil and OBs are the devil!" I think learning the truth about what really happened during my Cesarean that caused my hemmorage sobered me right up. All along I'd just thought I'd been the victim of the crappy hospital system and "Cesareans suck, bla bla bla," which I was, yes, but the actual story was much worse than I could have even imagined, and defied all the fist-pumping rhetoric. Funny how when I figured out exactly how bad it was, my yammering about how bad it was came to a standstill.
And then it was time to give birth to my second child. More than ever, Jacob's birth called on me to be strong. Although I had lots of virtual support, when it came to the people that were actually in my life, they weren't really there for me. Even one of my midwives (the one who wound up not being there - I gave birth with my other midwife and her assistant, probably the only two real-life people who believed in me) was doubtful that I could do it. But I did, and it steel-beam-reinforced that massive inner strength I had to call upon. This was the core of the impact Jacob's birth had on me, and it unfolded in seperate but similar ways. I am strong, therefore I can get through anything. I am strong, therefore if I try hard enough, I can do anything. I am strong, therefore what other people think does not matter.
I also learned what it felt like to be IN THE MOMENT. I think I coped with a lot of what happened before, during, and after my Cesarean by going outside my body and watching passively from afar, a trick I honed to near-perfection from a traumatic childhood and adolescence. I detached myself far away from the moment. But when Jacob's head came out of me and into my hand in the water, never before had I felt more alive and RIGHT THERE. For the first time I did not need to detach myself to survive. No, the only way to get through was to throw my whole self into it, with every fiber of my being.
I never really felt "broken" after my Cesarean like many moms do. It's strange, because I did feel that burning urge to prove everyone wrong, but I never felt that doubt that usually fuels it for many VBACers. I was nervous, and worried, but I never really thought to myself that I couldn't do it. Nevertheless, Jacob's birth was the most triumphant, victorious moment of my life up to that point, and thus far, since. I mean, cripes - it's been over a year and I still yap about it. For a good while I wouldn't shut up about it. "Look at me! Look what I did! I pushed a baby out of my vagina! I'm AWESOME!" And I never once meant it in an "anyone who hasn't pushed a baby out of their vagina isn't awesome!" way. Like I said, there is the potential for personal growth in ALL of life's experiences.
Both of my children's births were profoundly important in my life. But they are hardly the axis that my or their lives revolve around. Although I still cuddle Jacob and think of him as my VBAC baby, I don't look at Jameson and think of him as my Cesarean baby. I suppose the potency of Jacob's birth might fade eventually - the pain certainly has! - but the power I gained never will. And what I learned from Jameson's birth set me up to recieve it, so those lessons will always be with me.
Kate pointed out something that I have thought a few times myself, when someone refers to "my birth," it's actually her child's birth. But, in a sense, it's also her birth. Not every woman is reborn with every child she gives birth to, but I was, and certainly many other women have been.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
This is Halloween, Halloween, Halloween
First let it be said that I HATE HATE HATE FLICKR'S NEW PHOTOSHARING SETUP. Three extra clicks for each picture and most of the time I forget to do them so that is even more time wasted.
Now the punkin carving, which we actually did a week ago.
I dunno bout dis bidness.
Squishy squishy pumpkin guts.
Jameson's, mine, and Jacob's.
Me as Julia from Cowboy Bebop.
I hope there are no real cosplayers reading this or they might have a cow about how inaccurate this costume is. Oh well, I wanted to do it before the live action movie comes out and everybody in my age group does this costume next Halloween.
It's the over-the-shoulder pose!
Swamp monster and cricket ready for trick-or-treating downtown.
Playing games at the farmer's market.
His wings didn't stick out like I wanted them to. Oh well, still super cute!
Jameson in his age group for the costume contest. We didn't win anything but it was still fun.
Trick or treating part 2. Jacob passes out covered in glowsticks.
A raving swamp monster. *ntz*ntz*ntz*ntz*
Now the punkin carving, which we actually did a week ago.
I dunno bout dis bidness.
Squishy squishy pumpkin guts.
Jameson's, mine, and Jacob's.
Me as Julia from Cowboy Bebop.
I hope there are no real cosplayers reading this or they might have a cow about how inaccurate this costume is. Oh well, I wanted to do it before the live action movie comes out and everybody in my age group does this costume next Halloween.
It's the over-the-shoulder pose!
Swamp monster and cricket ready for trick-or-treating downtown.
Playing games at the farmer's market.
His wings didn't stick out like I wanted them to. Oh well, still super cute!
Jameson in his age group for the costume contest. We didn't win anything but it was still fun.
Trick or treating part 2. Jacob passes out covered in glowsticks.
A raving swamp monster. *ntz*ntz*ntz*ntz*
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Now They've Gone And Done It, Part 2
The idea of a Cesarean being preferable to vaginal birth isn't exactly new. Hell, the article I ranted about in Part 1 of this tirade was dated from March of 2008, over a year and a half ago! But this alarming and frustrating concept has been growing in popularity for a number of years now...and I'd be remiss to get all huffy-puffy about poor wording in an article describing this phenomenon without taking a serious look at WHY this is happening.
I think it can be broken down into two parts: institutional conditioning and social conditioning, which almost always go hand-in-hand, the second being a direct result of the first and sometimes vice versa.
Institutional conditioning comes in the form of decades upon decades of performing deliveries in a highly medicalized fashion, treating birth as a pathological condition. Despite the fact that many maternity ward practices are not evidence-based and can have detrimental effects on both mother and baby, many consumers do not know this. Because this is the way it's always been done (at least in their lifetime), many think this is how it's supposed to be. And how it's supposed to be is - let's face it - little short of a nightmare. Monitors that trap you in bed, IVs that itch and have to be dragged around, awful backless gowns that make you feel like an invalid, students asking you annoying pointless questions at inopportune times, continuous vaginal checks, beeping machines, bright lights, a neverending stream of people bustling in and out invading your privacy, not being allowed to eat or drink, the ticking clock and a constant urgency to be DOING something - breaking your water, giving augmentation drugs, administering epidural, PUSHPUSHPUSH, episiotomy, forceps....and this is all if you're the LUCKY two out of three to NOT get a Cesarean ON TOP OF IT ALL! When faced with anywhere from six to 20-odd hours of all that, and the likely possibility of needing surgery ANYWAY, no wonder women would rather just cut to the chase...no pun intended.
And because this institutional conditioning has been going on for so long, it leads to social conditioning, on behalf of our mothers, sisters, aunts, friends, and any and all women we know who gave birth in such a way. Such trauma during labor and delivery is all they know, and they won't hesitate to tell you aaaalllll about it. The awful tear from "front to back", which was a result of purple-pushing on her back over a taut, dry perineum. The epidural that didn't take and the mom that felt every last pain till the bitter end. The hemorrage that came from a hasty manual placenta removal. The baby that was "Pitted to distress" and spent his first day in the NICU with breathing problems instead of in his mother's arms. The assorted tales of hemmoroids or burst facial capillaries from pushing, peeing when you sneeze for the rest of your life, horrifically long labors....ahh, the stories go on and on. And invariably, they often end with "so thank goodness we were in the hospital!"
Faced with these horrors, one can hardly blame a woman for opting for surgery, especially when it's been deceptively painted as "someone rummaging around in your tummy." The truth is far more gruesome, but it's all behind a blue curtain, so who's the wiser? Twenty minutes and a little scar seems infinitely more preferable to the freak show our childbearing relatives tell us about. Yet just as the traumas of vaginal birth are often overplayed (and usually preventable), the dangers of Cesareans are tragically whitewashed right out of the picture. A day or so of labor pain doesn't seem so bad in comparison to weeks of post-operative pain. A tear in your vagina doesn't seem as bad as a cut on your baby's face. Leaking pee when you sneeze (which can be prevented with diligent Kegels!) isn't as bad as leaking buckets of blood from surgery gone wrong. And losing your dignity when you have your legs in stirrups with your hoo-ha on display for all the world to see is not much compared to losing your baby, or losing your own life....both of which are three times more likely to happen with a Cesarean.
We know this, but do mothers who prefer Cesarean over vaginal birth know this? If they don't, why not? Who has been selling them a false image? Is it the fault of the institution, or society, or both? And how can we overcome it? Until we do, the status quo of vaginal birth = scary, messy, and best avoided, and Cesarean = quick and easy solution will continue.
I think it can be broken down into two parts: institutional conditioning and social conditioning, which almost always go hand-in-hand, the second being a direct result of the first and sometimes vice versa.
Institutional conditioning comes in the form of decades upon decades of performing deliveries in a highly medicalized fashion, treating birth as a pathological condition. Despite the fact that many maternity ward practices are not evidence-based and can have detrimental effects on both mother and baby, many consumers do not know this. Because this is the way it's always been done (at least in their lifetime), many think this is how it's supposed to be. And how it's supposed to be is - let's face it - little short of a nightmare. Monitors that trap you in bed, IVs that itch and have to be dragged around, awful backless gowns that make you feel like an invalid, students asking you annoying pointless questions at inopportune times, continuous vaginal checks, beeping machines, bright lights, a neverending stream of people bustling in and out invading your privacy, not being allowed to eat or drink, the ticking clock and a constant urgency to be DOING something - breaking your water, giving augmentation drugs, administering epidural, PUSHPUSHPUSH, episiotomy, forceps....and this is all if you're the LUCKY two out of three to NOT get a Cesarean ON TOP OF IT ALL! When faced with anywhere from six to 20-odd hours of all that, and the likely possibility of needing surgery ANYWAY, no wonder women would rather just cut to the chase...no pun intended.
And because this institutional conditioning has been going on for so long, it leads to social conditioning, on behalf of our mothers, sisters, aunts, friends, and any and all women we know who gave birth in such a way. Such trauma during labor and delivery is all they know, and they won't hesitate to tell you aaaalllll about it. The awful tear from "front to back", which was a result of purple-pushing on her back over a taut, dry perineum. The epidural that didn't take and the mom that felt every last pain till the bitter end. The hemorrage that came from a hasty manual placenta removal. The baby that was "Pitted to distress" and spent his first day in the NICU with breathing problems instead of in his mother's arms. The assorted tales of hemmoroids or burst facial capillaries from pushing, peeing when you sneeze for the rest of your life, horrifically long labors....ahh, the stories go on and on. And invariably, they often end with "so thank goodness we were in the hospital!"
Faced with these horrors, one can hardly blame a woman for opting for surgery, especially when it's been deceptively painted as "someone rummaging around in your tummy." The truth is far more gruesome, but it's all behind a blue curtain, so who's the wiser? Twenty minutes and a little scar seems infinitely more preferable to the freak show our childbearing relatives tell us about. Yet just as the traumas of vaginal birth are often overplayed (and usually preventable), the dangers of Cesareans are tragically whitewashed right out of the picture. A day or so of labor pain doesn't seem so bad in comparison to weeks of post-operative pain. A tear in your vagina doesn't seem as bad as a cut on your baby's face. Leaking pee when you sneeze (which can be prevented with diligent Kegels!) isn't as bad as leaking buckets of blood from surgery gone wrong. And losing your dignity when you have your legs in stirrups with your hoo-ha on display for all the world to see is not much compared to losing your baby, or losing your own life....both of which are three times more likely to happen with a Cesarean.
We know this, but do mothers who prefer Cesarean over vaginal birth know this? If they don't, why not? Who has been selling them a false image? Is it the fault of the institution, or society, or both? And how can we overcome it? Until we do, the status quo of vaginal birth = scary, messy, and best avoided, and Cesarean = quick and easy solution will continue.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Now They've Gone And Done It
If you follow that other Jill, of Unnecesarean fame, you've probably taken a jaw-dropped gander at the article "The Labor Market" from TIME Magazine, which refers to vaginal birth as "a traumatic alternative to Cesarean." I'd seen her link to it on Facebook, and declined to read it then, knowing it would make my blood boil. But when I clicked over to her blog today, I saw - rather, skimmed with one eye twitching and then clicked to the actual article because I couldn't believe what I was reading - this DARLING excerpt.
There is so much bullshit in here that the only way I can properly address it all is in my favorite set-em-up-and-knock-em-down fashion. Here we go:
RED HERRING ALERT! Why do articles like this always have to include a snide reference to scented candles or tea lights? Or "ambient music" for that matter? Because it immediately casts people who choose natural birth as hippy-dippy quacks who probably smell like patchouli. Here's a clue: that's rude, and it makes you look like an asshole. Do the anti-advocate folks really need to resort to making snarky remarks about what people choose to include in their environment for birth? Is that all they have to go on? And for that matter, have they ever even SEEN a REAL natural birth? I've looked at hundreds, maybe even thousands, of homebirth photos, and I can't recall seeing a candle in a single one of them. I admit, I had some tealights packed in my birth kit in case I had a yen for some "ambience," but when labor came I was too busy giving birth to worry about it.
And that's all NORMAL. But yeah, let's just try to describe birth as the most horrifying thing ever, to make "someone rummaging around in your tummy" sound positively benign in comparison. Should I go into graphic detail about what happens to your body when you poop, and then offer the solution of a colostomy bag as a gentler alternative? Or better yet, having someone open up your colon and surgically remove your waste? Because intestinal pain from a big ol' dump can really be a bitch, and I've had my share of anal tears from that "sufficient pressure." Actually, I think it'd be better to go into graphic detail about what happens during a C-section...and it's NOT just "someone rummaging around in your tummy."
Citation please? Where did the author get this statistic? Oh that's right, he pulled it out of his ASS. RED HERRING ALERT #2!!! It's another favorite of the anti-advocate crowd: justifying unnecessary and dangerous interventions by citing horrible maternal mortality statistics from Third World countries and pretending that THEY WOULD HAPPEN HERE if only it weren't for the miracle of the Cesarean! So to go with that red herring, here's another clue: here in the U.S. and most of the rest of the developed world, we have clean water, proper hygiene, good diet, access to blood transfusions and antibiotics, and skilled medical professionals to assist birthing women. Our women are not stricken with rickets or fistulas or (usually) giving birth at the tender age of 11 or 12 after being raped. They also aren't starving to death or dying of AIDS or other diseases left and right. That is why the maternal mortality rate in the poorest parts of Africa is between 1 in 50 and 1 in 16, at the worst. Not because they don't have the luxury of choosing a goddamn C-section to save themselves from labor pain.
I fully understand and sympathize with women who are traumatized by childbirth. I know it does happen. But it does not happen to MOST women. Using the word MOST instead of SOME inappropriately is a key no-no of good journalism, because it smacks of bias. Hell, I learned that in 11th grade yearbook class.
But all that aside, the most violent physical trauma for me was NOT giving birth vaginally, but the near-deadly hemorrage I experienced as a result of surgical error during my C-section. The laceration in my cervix (which I was never told about and to this day is denied by the OB who did it to me and the CNM who witnessed it) split open again while I was lying in bed with my 1-week-old son. I gushed buckets of bright red plum-sized clots all the way to the bathroom, where I filled the toilet with them. With a towel between my legs, I called 911. The bleeding stopped momentarily until I was carried via stretcher through the ER doors, and then began again. The staff attending me was skidding on blood on the floor. They couldn't even complete an exam because there were so many clots pouring out of me. I was bawling hysterically due to hormones as a result of being seperated from my newborn baby. The room grew dark and I couldn't speak or move. I was so cold. It was like I was acting out a bad death scene in a B-movie, only it was real. My uterus was packed with cotton gauze and a blood transfusion was started just in time to get me to the OR to have another stitch placed in the tear on my cervix. I spent the next day in my hospital room weeping uncontrollably with milk soaking my backless gown until finally my baby was brought to me. When I was finally able to get myself out of bed to pee, I called a nurse to help me because I was so afraid of sitting down and filling the toilet with blood again. So afraid, in fact, that the urine I'd been holding in due to terror overflowed out of the collection container she gave me, which was the size of a mixing bowl. Five years later, I still have occasional nightmares about bleeding to death, and I can't touch the cotton balls that come in medicine bottles because the dry grinding reminds me of how it felt to be jammed so full of them that I couldn't close my legs.
It's a real shame that that horrid little tidbit snuck its way into that article, because otherwise it's very informative and non-biased. It talks about how the maternal mortality rate has been rising along with the C-section rate, and it also discusses the complications many women suffer from Cesareans. Take out that self-righteous snivelling paragraph, and you've got yourself a decent piece of journalism.
This is going to be a two-parter because I have more to say about this article and all the thoughts it has stirred up in my wee lickle brain, but they'd be better suited to their own seperate blogpost.
Utter the phrase "natural childbirth" and the mind envisages a stoic and earnest
woman, surrounded by murmuring midwives in a softly lit room, where ambient
music plays and tea lights flicker. Upon the elapse of some decent, manageable
labor, she pushes out her baby with honest grunts. While that may be true for
some, for most women natural childbirth is one of the most violent physical
traumas they will ever experience, bar a serious accident or grievous assault.
The average length of labor for a first-time mother is anything from seven to 12
hours, but it can easily be 20 hours or more. During that time, she is wracked
by contractions — a euphemism that doesn't even come close to conveying the
violent spasms that take hold when the body reflexively tries to squeeze a baby
through a narrow vaginal opening. The forces involved are such that when the
baby's head emerges, it can do so with sufficient pressure to rip the mother's
perineum and leave grind marks on pubic bone. In many ways, the act of giving
birth resembles a medical emergency — in fact, if no medical intervention of any
kind were made, up to 1 in 67 women would die in labor. Fear of birth pain is
thus legitimate and it is no wonder that many women elect to have C-sections —
especially when the procedure is over in about 40 minutes and feels no more
uncomfortable, in the words of an anesthetist in one of Hong Kong's top
maternity hospitals, "than someone rummaging around in your tummy."
There is so much bullshit in here that the only way I can properly address it all is in my favorite set-em-up-and-knock-em-down fashion. Here we go:
Utter the phrase "natural childbirth" and the mind envisages a stoic and earnest
woman, surrounded by murmuring midwives in a softly lit room, where ambient
music plays and tea lights flicker.
RED HERRING ALERT! Why do articles like this always have to include a snide reference to scented candles or tea lights? Or "ambient music" for that matter? Because it immediately casts people who choose natural birth as hippy-dippy quacks who probably smell like patchouli. Here's a clue: that's rude, and it makes you look like an asshole. Do the anti-advocate folks really need to resort to making snarky remarks about what people choose to include in their environment for birth? Is that all they have to go on? And for that matter, have they ever even SEEN a REAL natural birth? I've looked at hundreds, maybe even thousands, of homebirth photos, and I can't recall seeing a candle in a single one of them. I admit, I had some tealights packed in my birth kit in case I had a yen for some "ambience," but when labor came I was too busy giving birth to worry about it.
During that time, she is wracked by contractions — a euphemism that doesn't even
come close to conveying the violent spasms that take hold when the body
reflexively tries to squeeze a baby through a narrow vaginal opening. The forces
involved are such that when the baby's head emerges, it can do so with
sufficient pressure to rip the mother's perineum and leave grind marks on pubic
bone.
And that's all NORMAL. But yeah, let's just try to describe birth as the most horrifying thing ever, to make "someone rummaging around in your tummy" sound positively benign in comparison. Should I go into graphic detail about what happens to your body when you poop, and then offer the solution of a colostomy bag as a gentler alternative? Or better yet, having someone open up your colon and surgically remove your waste? Because intestinal pain from a big ol' dump can really be a bitch, and I've had my share of anal tears from that "sufficient pressure." Actually, I think it'd be better to go into graphic detail about what happens during a C-section...and it's NOT just "someone rummaging around in your tummy."
...in fact, if no medical intervention of any kind were made, up to 1 in 67
women would die in labor.
Citation please? Where did the author get this statistic? Oh that's right, he pulled it out of his ASS. RED HERRING ALERT #2!!! It's another favorite of the anti-advocate crowd: justifying unnecessary and dangerous interventions by citing horrible maternal mortality statistics from Third World countries and pretending that THEY WOULD HAPPEN HERE if only it weren't for the miracle of the Cesarean! So to go with that red herring, here's another clue: here in the U.S. and most of the rest of the developed world, we have clean water, proper hygiene, good diet, access to blood transfusions and antibiotics, and skilled medical professionals to assist birthing women. Our women are not stricken with rickets or fistulas or (usually) giving birth at the tender age of 11 or 12 after being raped. They also aren't starving to death or dying of AIDS or other diseases left and right. That is why the maternal mortality rate in the poorest parts of Africa is between 1 in 50 and 1 in 16, at the worst. Not because they don't have the luxury of choosing a goddamn C-section to save themselves from labor pain.
...for most women natural childbirth is one of the most violent physical traumas they will ever experience, bar a serious accident or grievous assault.
I fully understand and sympathize with women who are traumatized by childbirth. I know it does happen. But it does not happen to MOST women. Using the word MOST instead of SOME inappropriately is a key no-no of good journalism, because it smacks of bias. Hell, I learned that in 11th grade yearbook class.
But all that aside, the most violent physical trauma for me was NOT giving birth vaginally, but the near-deadly hemorrage I experienced as a result of surgical error during my C-section. The laceration in my cervix (which I was never told about and to this day is denied by the OB who did it to me and the CNM who witnessed it) split open again while I was lying in bed with my 1-week-old son. I gushed buckets of bright red plum-sized clots all the way to the bathroom, where I filled the toilet with them. With a towel between my legs, I called 911. The bleeding stopped momentarily until I was carried via stretcher through the ER doors, and then began again. The staff attending me was skidding on blood on the floor. They couldn't even complete an exam because there were so many clots pouring out of me. I was bawling hysterically due to hormones as a result of being seperated from my newborn baby. The room grew dark and I couldn't speak or move. I was so cold. It was like I was acting out a bad death scene in a B-movie, only it was real. My uterus was packed with cotton gauze and a blood transfusion was started just in time to get me to the OR to have another stitch placed in the tear on my cervix. I spent the next day in my hospital room weeping uncontrollably with milk soaking my backless gown until finally my baby was brought to me. When I was finally able to get myself out of bed to pee, I called a nurse to help me because I was so afraid of sitting down and filling the toilet with blood again. So afraid, in fact, that the urine I'd been holding in due to terror overflowed out of the collection container she gave me, which was the size of a mixing bowl. Five years later, I still have occasional nightmares about bleeding to death, and I can't touch the cotton balls that come in medicine bottles because the dry grinding reminds me of how it felt to be jammed so full of them that I couldn't close my legs.
It's a real shame that that horrid little tidbit snuck its way into that article, because otherwise it's very informative and non-biased. It talks about how the maternal mortality rate has been rising along with the C-section rate, and it also discusses the complications many women suffer from Cesareans. Take out that self-righteous snivelling paragraph, and you've got yourself a decent piece of journalism.
This is going to be a two-parter because I have more to say about this article and all the thoughts it has stirred up in my wee lickle brain, but they'd be better suited to their own seperate blogpost.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
AVE Birthing Bed
This is just too good to not blog about.
Introducing the AVE Birthing Bed, a futuristic delivery pod that "reflects both the individual comfort requirements of the mother and the professional needs of the birthing team!" At first glance, this product definitely raises my hackles as a birth advocate. The expression on the model's face sums up my initial feelings pretty well: I wouldn't want to sit in this even when I'm NOT pushing out an 8-lb. loaf of humanflesh, it looks so hideously uncomfortable! Amy (Life In Slow Motion) calls it the product of "an affair between a dentist's chair and a hospital bed," and Lousia (MamaMidwifeMadness) says it reminds her of the Star Wars midwife droids.
Taking a further look around the website, though, softens my knee-jerk irritation: this bed transforms into many different modes to facilitate less barbaric positions, such as all fours...
...and squatting, both sitting and kneeling style.
Dad or another support person can also get behind mom and allow her to get into a deep squat.
And then when it's all said and done, it transforms back into a bed-pod.
It also has a massage feature, can be lowered very close to the floor, and comes in four purty colors (Brilliant Blue, Ocean Green, Corn Yellow, and Orange).
So, yeah, I guess it looks pretty neat, and you've got to admit it's a much more attractive and mother-friendly alternative to the traditional obstetrical bed. But nevertheless, my distaste remains. Why? Maybe because I foresee doctors primarily using it in the mode depicted in the front-page photo, and if a mom doesn't know that she can squat in it, or the doctor doesn't allow it, that advantage is kind of useless. I also dislike that it subtly encourages the containment of mom throughout the duration of labor - the blurb about the massage feature says it "lowers the pain in the first stage of birth." Well, that's nice, but mom really shouldn't be in bed very much during the first stage of labor, and frankly, I find it hard to believe that any massage chair is going to be strong enough to vibrate away my labor pains. I suppose it could be handy in helping mom to release tension and relax, though.
At the core of my dislike of this bed, I think, is the simple fact that it is just another fancy shiny high-tech gadget that, when you get right down to it, isn't really necessary. I don't know how much these beds cost - I emailed the company reps but have yet to hear back from them, and I can't find a price anywhere on their website. But I can wager that they don't come cheap, especially considering all the neat little accessories you can get with them.
It just seems like yet another example of how hospitals go to such great lengths to provide the latest and greatest in gadgetry and gizmos to woo the modern tech-saturated consumer....yet when it comes to providing the most basic, primal things a laboring woman needs, they fall woefully short. Women don't really need aerodynamic pod-beds, even if they do come in Corn Yellow. Hospitals, take the small fortune you would spend on one AVE Birthing Bed and instead hire a doula for a few thousand hours. She would be more than happy to help physically and emotionally support your laboring moms, pile pillows around her to help her get into all the positions that this bed facilitates, and I bet she would give a much better massage too.
I will contend that the AVE Birthing Bed seems infinitely preferable to the impersonal metal slabs that many hospitals strap their laboring moms into. But if I had the choice between a birthplace that is "business as usual" hidden behind a cute space-age bed, or one with no fancy gadgetry but all the physiological support and evidence-based care that I truly need, I would choose the latter.
I'm not damning the makers of this bed or trying to badmouth their creativity. Maybe this bed could be the stepping stone between mom-centric birth and OB-centric deliveries? I just don't want to see technology continuing to be used to pull the wool over women's eyes. All the bed-pods in the world don't amount to much when the things that truly matter still haven't changed for the better. Call me cynical, but I have seen and heard too many examples to believe that a magical futuristic delivery bed is going to suddenly change the way OBs have been operating - double meaning intended - for decades now.
We'll just have to wait and see.
Introducing the AVE Birthing Bed, a futuristic delivery pod that "reflects both the individual comfort requirements of the mother and the professional needs of the birthing team!" At first glance, this product definitely raises my hackles as a birth advocate. The expression on the model's face sums up my initial feelings pretty well: I wouldn't want to sit in this even when I'm NOT pushing out an 8-lb. loaf of humanflesh, it looks so hideously uncomfortable! Amy (Life In Slow Motion) calls it the product of "an affair between a dentist's chair and a hospital bed," and Lousia (MamaMidwifeMadness) says it reminds her of the Star Wars midwife droids.
Taking a further look around the website, though, softens my knee-jerk irritation: this bed transforms into many different modes to facilitate less barbaric positions, such as all fours...
...and squatting, both sitting and kneeling style.
Dad or another support person can also get behind mom and allow her to get into a deep squat.
And then when it's all said and done, it transforms back into a bed-pod.
It also has a massage feature, can be lowered very close to the floor, and comes in four purty colors (Brilliant Blue, Ocean Green, Corn Yellow, and Orange).
So, yeah, I guess it looks pretty neat, and you've got to admit it's a much more attractive and mother-friendly alternative to the traditional obstetrical bed. But nevertheless, my distaste remains. Why? Maybe because I foresee doctors primarily using it in the mode depicted in the front-page photo, and if a mom doesn't know that she can squat in it, or the doctor doesn't allow it, that advantage is kind of useless. I also dislike that it subtly encourages the containment of mom throughout the duration of labor - the blurb about the massage feature says it "lowers the pain in the first stage of birth." Well, that's nice, but mom really shouldn't be in bed very much during the first stage of labor, and frankly, I find it hard to believe that any massage chair is going to be strong enough to vibrate away my labor pains. I suppose it could be handy in helping mom to release tension and relax, though.
At the core of my dislike of this bed, I think, is the simple fact that it is just another fancy shiny high-tech gadget that, when you get right down to it, isn't really necessary. I don't know how much these beds cost - I emailed the company reps but have yet to hear back from them, and I can't find a price anywhere on their website. But I can wager that they don't come cheap, especially considering all the neat little accessories you can get with them.
It just seems like yet another example of how hospitals go to such great lengths to provide the latest and greatest in gadgetry and gizmos to woo the modern tech-saturated consumer....yet when it comes to providing the most basic, primal things a laboring woman needs, they fall woefully short. Women don't really need aerodynamic pod-beds, even if they do come in Corn Yellow. Hospitals, take the small fortune you would spend on one AVE Birthing Bed and instead hire a doula for a few thousand hours. She would be more than happy to help physically and emotionally support your laboring moms, pile pillows around her to help her get into all the positions that this bed facilitates, and I bet she would give a much better massage too.
I will contend that the AVE Birthing Bed seems infinitely preferable to the impersonal metal slabs that many hospitals strap their laboring moms into. But if I had the choice between a birthplace that is "business as usual" hidden behind a cute space-age bed, or one with no fancy gadgetry but all the physiological support and evidence-based care that I truly need, I would choose the latter.
I'm not damning the makers of this bed or trying to badmouth their creativity. Maybe this bed could be the stepping stone between mom-centric birth and OB-centric deliveries? I just don't want to see technology continuing to be used to pull the wool over women's eyes. All the bed-pods in the world don't amount to much when the things that truly matter still haven't changed for the better. Call me cynical, but I have seen and heard too many examples to believe that a magical futuristic delivery bed is going to suddenly change the way OBs have been operating - double meaning intended - for decades now.
We'll just have to wait and see.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Choice
Been thinking the past few days on choice...or rather the lack thereof in our reproductive health. Peggy Robertson is denied insurance unless she gets sterilized...because she had a previous Cesarean. Joy Szabo travels hundreds of miles, away from her family and husband, to avoid a repeat C-section, even though she has already had a successful VBAC. And as this all rolled around in my head, this additional article really got me reeling....are women being forced to extreme measures by birth practices?
The more I think about it, the more Orwellian, the more totalitarian, it seems. Women are literally fleeing their hometowns to avoid unnecessary surgery. If this were put in any other context, people would be horrified. But because it's Cesareans - or perhaps because they're women - people just assume that the doctors know best, or that the women are being unreasonable. It's frightening how easy it is for us to brush this under the rug.
It's absurd that we have to fight to be able to push a baby out of our vaginas. A good friend of mine drove to The Farm in Tennessee, about nine hours away, to have her VBAC baby nearly a year ago. She wasn't under any medical pressure that I'm aware of for a repeat Cesarean, but she just didn't think her chances of having a successful vaginal birth were any good here. And while I didn't travel across state lines to have my own VBAC, my story is similar. The hospital staff was not supportive, and I know that personally, I would have shut down in terror if I'd set foot in there at all. Luckily I had great midwives who believed in me and helped me achieve my VBAC, but they were the only ones in this area willing to take me on. If I hadn't found them, I would have done whatever it took to escape another surgery. I would have sold what I could of my possessions, bought a bus ticket (remember, I had no vehicle at the time!) and travelled to wherever a midwife would attend me. I would have been another Joy Szabo, and I'm sure I wouldn't have been the first.
And I think of how many other women would have had to put up a fight, but didn't. During my pregnancy I spoke with other women who also wanted a VBAC, but the obstacles in their way were so small, almost laughable in comparison. They didn't want to drive an extra 45 minutes to see the VBAC-friendly OB in the next city over. They didn't want to spend $3,000 on a homebirth. (Sure, I know that seems like a fair hurdle since it's a good bit of money, but if you saw the mountains of cloth diapers and pads I made and sold to pay my midwife, you'd understand that there is always a way to get what you truly desire.) The list goes on and on. So they just rolled over and signed up for the Cesarean instead of fighting. And I guess I can't blame them. When you're doing something as important, as emotionally tumultuous, as gestating and preparing to birth a baby, you shouldn't be worried about going to war.
I wonder why Joy Szabohasn't decided to have a homebirth. No travel necessary, her husband and other children can be there. Most importantly, she'll have a skilled care provider who believes in what she's doing and doesn't just see her as a neon sign blinking "DANGER!" Maybe she just doesn't feel comfortable with a homebirth? That's her right, I suppose. But she shouldn't have to travel 350 miles to escape a court order for an unnecessary Cesarean.
The original point Joy made is quite telling - if a hospital claims that it is not adequately staffed for a VBAC, then it should not be performing ANY deliveries AT ALL. Funny how the hospital Jameson was born at had no problem doing my Cesarean, but when it came time for me to try a vaginal birth four years later, they claimed they wouldn't be able to get me in the OR in time in case something went wrong, and I'd have to airlift to UVA 30 miles away at my own expense (not covered by insurance). If you supposedly can't perform an emergency Cesarean for a VBACing mom, then you can't perform an emergency Cesarean for any other reason, can you? Hmm? That's what I thought. I'll be birthing my babies at a facility that is better prepared, thank you.
The more I think about it, the more Orwellian, the more totalitarian, it seems. Women are literally fleeing their hometowns to avoid unnecessary surgery. If this were put in any other context, people would be horrified. But because it's Cesareans - or perhaps because they're women - people just assume that the doctors know best, or that the women are being unreasonable. It's frightening how easy it is for us to brush this under the rug.
It's absurd that we have to fight to be able to push a baby out of our vaginas. A good friend of mine drove to The Farm in Tennessee, about nine hours away, to have her VBAC baby nearly a year ago. She wasn't under any medical pressure that I'm aware of for a repeat Cesarean, but she just didn't think her chances of having a successful vaginal birth were any good here. And while I didn't travel across state lines to have my own VBAC, my story is similar. The hospital staff was not supportive, and I know that personally, I would have shut down in terror if I'd set foot in there at all. Luckily I had great midwives who believed in me and helped me achieve my VBAC, but they were the only ones in this area willing to take me on. If I hadn't found them, I would have done whatever it took to escape another surgery. I would have sold what I could of my possessions, bought a bus ticket (remember, I had no vehicle at the time!) and travelled to wherever a midwife would attend me. I would have been another Joy Szabo, and I'm sure I wouldn't have been the first.
And I think of how many other women would have had to put up a fight, but didn't. During my pregnancy I spoke with other women who also wanted a VBAC, but the obstacles in their way were so small, almost laughable in comparison. They didn't want to drive an extra 45 minutes to see the VBAC-friendly OB in the next city over. They didn't want to spend $3,000 on a homebirth. (Sure, I know that seems like a fair hurdle since it's a good bit of money, but if you saw the mountains of cloth diapers and pads I made and sold to pay my midwife, you'd understand that there is always a way to get what you truly desire.) The list goes on and on. So they just rolled over and signed up for the Cesarean instead of fighting. And I guess I can't blame them. When you're doing something as important, as emotionally tumultuous, as gestating and preparing to birth a baby, you shouldn't be worried about going to war.
I wonder why Joy Szabohasn't decided to have a homebirth. No travel necessary, her husband and other children can be there. Most importantly, she'll have a skilled care provider who believes in what she's doing and doesn't just see her as a neon sign blinking "DANGER!" Maybe she just doesn't feel comfortable with a homebirth? That's her right, I suppose. But she shouldn't have to travel 350 miles to escape a court order for an unnecessary Cesarean.
The original point Joy made is quite telling - if a hospital claims that it is not adequately staffed for a VBAC, then it should not be performing ANY deliveries AT ALL. Funny how the hospital Jameson was born at had no problem doing my Cesarean, but when it came time for me to try a vaginal birth four years later, they claimed they wouldn't be able to get me in the OR in time in case something went wrong, and I'd have to airlift to UVA 30 miles away at my own expense (not covered by insurance). If you supposedly can't perform an emergency Cesarean for a VBACing mom, then you can't perform an emergency Cesarean for any other reason, can you? Hmm? That's what I thought. I'll be birthing my babies at a facility that is better prepared, thank you.
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