The Story of Miles

We found out we were expecting our second child some time in November and that we were due in July. Soon-to-be-big-brother Maxwell had just turned two and I wondered how is it possible that I will love another child that much? Many mothers had told me my love will not be halved; it will multiply. I couldn't wait to gain that understanding for myself. Our pregnancy wasn't anything out of the ordinary, until the last few weeks when I just kept growing and growing. My previous boy had been teeny (5lb9oz) at birth and came a little early (38w2d) so as this pregnancy kept progressing, I was experiencing the true long haul of the full 40 weeks. Everyday I would wonder if I 'felt special' and if my senses were sharper (nope and maybe? no, I don't know. I can't tell. I should be able to tell, right?) I would make it through another day, hot and uncomfortable, as all mommies who've been full term in a humid summer can attest. There were feet in my ribcage constantly. I was outgrowing my maternity clothes. I couldn't handle the anxiety of the gender surprise this time around. I wanted to know, but couldn't imagine knowing. We had opted for a homebirth this time around. It wasn't a decision that came easy at first, as I had really liked my care providers previously. The first trimester was filled with uncertainty. The list of pros and cons constantly swirling in my head, like sugarplums dancing but classic yellow Post-Its instead. I worried if I was strong enough and trusted my body enough. I worried about Travis and how he would handle it. I worried about Maxwell and how badly I wanted him to be a part of the experience. He wouldn't be allowed to stay with me at the hospital and we had never spent the night apart before. I didn't want to just have him show up and all of the sudden there was a new baby. After weeks of mulling the decision over and having interviewed a few different midwives, my pro-Homebirth Post-It took the lead and it felt right immediately. To prepare, I read books about midwifery and homebirthing, hypnobabies and all of the books by Ina May Gaskin. I kept our plans to myself. I did not want any negative thoughts surrounding this birth plan. No "so and so had complications" or "at least you are close to a hospital." I didn't have time for doubts, for naysayers, for explaining myself. I had less than 40 weeks to learn about the birth I wanted and how to go for it, wholeheartedly. I read about my body, the process of birth and stories of women like myself, who were apprehensive about letting doctors be in charge of us, our bodies, our birth. We found a great midwife and doula team about two hours away. We would go there for our monthly visits or meet halfway and shock fellow diners at a pizza place as we listened to our growing baby with the fetalscope over slices and sodas. I had said no to all sonograms and all pelvic checks, as I deemed both unnecessary and had endured more than my share in my first pregnancy. (I feel the need to point out that during the last 6 weeks of my pregnancy with Maxwell, the OBs had suspected IUGR. With that and a bout of preterm labor at 32 weeks I was placed on bedrest and has pelvic exams and ultrasounds twice a week for the remainder of the pregnancy. As we neared 38 weeks, they began discussing induction. Following a more painful than usual pelvic exam, I was told it 'shouldn't be long now' and my water broke 12 hours later. Looking back, I am certain my membranes were stripped without my knowledge. I cannot even find the words to describe the wrongness of it all. My baby wasn't ready. My body was disrespected. A doctor used their authority over me, an unsuspecting pregnant woman, who didn't know I was allowed to speak up or that I needed to. Blind trust.) I started having contractions on a Friday night, date night. I timed them and it was apparent they had a rhythm but I was adamant about getting dressed up and going out with Travis. I was huge and wanted to feel pretty all dolled up. We both ate nervously but tried to remain calm. I texted our midwife as I sipped on another Shirley Temple, my first intense craving with this pregnancy. She felt the consistent contractions (5mins apart, lasting 1min) was reason enough to meet up with the doula and head over. Since they had a two hour trek ahead of them, I talked Travis into going to the toy store so we could pick up some gifts for Maxwell from his new baby sibling, in hopes of creating a smoother transition into big brotherhood for him. After 20 mins or so, I couldn't even walk the aisles anymore. We still had to pick up Maxwell from my parents and get home and somehow mentally and physically prepare. As Travis put Maxwell to bed, I gathered our birth box and the bag with birthing tub in it to be inflated. Somewhere along the way, my contractions fizzled out. I paced hoping they would gain momentum and that the midwives wouldn't have wasted a trip. They got here after 10 and I felt frustrated and disappointed. We all went to bed. The next morning Maxwell was excited to have company so early in the morning and ran over to the birth box exclaiming, "Baby out!" We kept telling him "soon" and that we were hoping today was the day. But still, no more contractions. After a cup of coffee and profusely apologizing about the unnecessary trip, the midwives left and as Travis went to put the birth supplies away, Maxwell began to cry "Baby. Out." He was as impatient as me! Travis and Maxwell and I tried to make plans for the day to get my mind off of the fact that there wasn't a baby coming out of my vagina right now. We ended up driving to my friend Kate's farm to pick up our CSA share and have lunch and play with the other kiddos. I felt like I was going to be pregnant forever. The humidity level was fucked up. We drove around while Maxwell napped, Travis stopped in to a record store while I ate the first Pennsylvania peach of the season in the car. We drove to my dad's work to drop Maxwell off for the evening and my dad showed Maxwell a police car and firetruck he had in the parking lot. My dad's boss showed Maxwell the lights and horn and sirens and the kid was AMAZED. And despite being so effing hot, I was amazed too! Travis and I had to pick up a truck so we could haul some crap out of our rental property. It was huge and I had trouble getting in and out of it, which was very often as I could not stop peeing. Trying to satiate my apparent never-ending hunger for a pork BBQ, we attempted to go out to eat but my contractions started up again. It was 6pm and they were happening every 5 minutes, lasting a minute. I decided I couldn't eat or stand the heat or this pregnancy any longer. I cried and begged Travis to take me home. By 7pm, I was laying on my bed trying to cool down and Travis went to get himself some tex mex and a beer. I moved to the yoga ball hoping to relieve some of the discomfort from the contractions and when I laid back down, my water broke! I texted Travis and started to time contractions again to see if things were picking up. They were. I let the midwives know and Travis picked up Maxwell from my parents and started to get him ready for bed. It was nearing 930 at this point and it was evident Travis had fallen asleep while trying to get Maxwell to bed. I hopped in the shower and planned my next move. I would inflate the birthing tub, contractions every three minutes or not. I woke Travis to fill the tub. Midwives were still about 45 minutes out. When I climbed in that tub...HEAVEN. Game-changer. Every contraction, I would grab the conveniently located handles and hoist myself up against the side of the pool and Travis would rub my back. Rinse and repeat countless times until the midwives showed up, and then they would all take turns making sure I was comfortable. We spent to next hour talking when I would have a break and then there were little to no breaks. My dearest friend Megan had sent me a beautiful banner she had made for her own homebirth just weeks before and now it hung in our living room. The vintage-y light pink and blue paisley fabric had been cut into triangles and each bore a powerful affirmation to keep me present during birth. At one point, I told my team to read me one while I tried my best not to clench my teeth during another surge. "Peaceful birth, healthy baby." "I am capable." And Travis said, "I will tell you at the end of this contraction..." "Smile." And I did. After midnight, I was gonna let it all hang out. (Hahahaha. Sorry.) But seriously, after midnight, things picked right on up. Contractions one on top of the other. My water broke some more. And then some terrible pressure and what felt like a charlie horse in my right groin. I didn't know if it was from being in the water too long or if the baby was aggravating a previously torn ligament that had happened right around the time I got pregnant. I started thrashing around in the water and begging for help. My doula suggested I hop out of the tub, as I was starting to feel like I wanted to push. I didn't think I could make it the literal foot and a half to the couch. They helped lay me down and said it was okay to try to push if I felt like it was time. I tried and barely anything moved, but it felt good. This happened a few more times and at some point I felt the head make it's way down. I was sweaty and things felt carnal. It felt like a really big head. With Maxwell, he came shooting out in 2 small pushes. This was not the same as that. I was able to experience what I had thought was freakin' nuts when reading birth stories on the farm, of women who were able to pant through crowning to avoid pushing and tearing. My midwife put some nice olive oil on my lady bits to help with stretching. The head came in and out of my cervix a few times before I was able to get it out. Our baby's head was out at 130am. At 132am, HIS body was born and he was placed on my belly. We waited for the cord to stop pulsing before it was reluctantly cut by Travis (he hates the texture) and then he was placed on my chest. I did it!!!!!!! Travis took over on holding baby Miles and I worked with Jenn and Jean to deliver the placenta, that would later be encapsulated for me. Things got a little messy and gross after this. But then things were beautiful again when Miles was handed back over and I spent the next hour holding him against me, in love, and beginning to drift off to dreamland. Around 3am it was time for a shower and to be checked to see if had any tearing. We hadn't even weighed him yet and as my midwife helped me into the shower she told me, "You have a big baby out there!" Both postpartum showers I have experienced in my life thus far have been a little traumatic. There is nothing quite like looking down at your now-deflated gut and streaks of blood on parts of your body and going down the drain. No one prepares you for that nor can anyone prepare you for that. It's scary a little bit. It's sobering. It's surreal. After the shower, which I could have stayed in forever, I went into the bedroom with Miles and my ladies to be looked over. We weighed the young man and he was a WHOPPING 8lbs 4oz! That's a huge difference from my little 5lb 9oz Maxwell and I believe it was due to the minimal routine checks and scans throughout this pregnancy and also of course that I was able to carry him longer. The ladies checked me and I needed no stitches. Travis and Miles and I cuddled up in bed together and Travis and I whispered to each other and smiled and kissed. I don't know if I could have done it without him! He was so helpful and present with me. We maybe slept an hour that night before Maxwell awoke at 6am. He was shocked to learn he had a new brother while he was sleeping! "Baby, out?" he said pointing at Miles lying next to me in bed. Since the initial confusion, Maxwell has surprised us with the ease (thus far) of his transition into big brotherhood. His gentleness and sweetness (as usual) made him perfect for this role. He loves to lay with his little brother and hold his hand and kiss him. I never felt our family was incomplete in any way but somehow with addition of this baby, things seem complete---for now. At 16 days old, Miles loves to sleep and nurse and be held by mama and Maxwell. He makes cute little sounds post-sneeze and enjoys baths and showers. We think he looks like Mr. Bean and his Grandfather. He has his great-grandmother's nose and potential dimples like his Da. Born happily and healthy at home on July 19th 2015 at 132am, Miles Richard Olivera weighs 8lbs 4oz and is 21 inches of absolute perfection.

feeling the disconnect

broken dialogue between connections via disconnect human contact is lost and our screen-savers are no longer saving face. this was the end of losing touch or, had we already. wasting time scrolling and scrolling and not searching anymore.

dulldrums

Winter is bringing me down, man. Went and saw trains with Maxwell yesterday and I am getting the travel bug bad. Wanted to hop on, no destination, my thoughts, music, paper and pen. Feeling lost and out of touch, disconnected and uninspired. Bored and scared of turning into mush on these long days spent indoors with a toddler. The inner conflicts make little sense; lonely but desperately wanting to have a moment to myself. A moment of peace, a moment to create that the desire isn't extinguished by a marathon of angst while trying to get the kiddo down for a nap. Too exhausted, too burned out to even get dressed. Feeling feelings that I'm too scared to even write down. Nothing is fun anymore. I don't even think I know how to have fun anymore. The day in and back out and back in in this little town is stifling to me today, although I have found it a source of comfort and home for so long, though off and on. How do moms do it? How did my mom do it? Am I destined to turn into the shell that she is today? Paranoid and angry and unable to love? Jaded, but by what? I'd like to think that sunshine is the answer, and it is, in a way. My sun has set. I need to rise.