What Do You Mean, "It's Been a Month"?

My goodness. Are you all feeling ignored? I've been truly horrid at updates of late. Partly because I'm stymied by the picture aspect. I need to add text to some pictures and I just haven't had two minutes to do so and the desire to attempt it occurring in the same part of space and time. Also, husband keeps hogging my laptop. Oh, and I can't justify the time to blog when I'm failing at my primary rolls of mother and wife.

Lucky for you, the cosmos have conspired to align and give me time to jot a few things down today.

1. CJ is in the 90th and 95th percentiles for weight and height. She's never had a drop of formula so, go boobies!

2. Placenta pills have an aftertaste and should only be taken at bed time. It's not that the aftertaste is unpleasant, exactly. It's just that I know that's what it is and I've had enough problems with the thought of taking the stupid things that an aftertaste is kind of a deal breaker. Nobody can deny these puppies work, though. Zero post partum depression, zero issues with milk supply. That's not something I've been able to say before.

3. This was my first week back in the gym. Muscle memory ROCKS. I'm already starting to get the definition back in my shoulders, arms, and butt. The abdominal area is another story entirely. It's complaining rather loudly that it doesn't know how to do very basic things. I tell it to shut up and grow a pair, and it yells back about nerve damage, blah blah. Then I tune it out and MAKE it do a sit up anyway. I NEED my core if I'm ever going to bench press more than 60 pounds.

4. The Boy has figured out how to ride his bike, thank goodness. Now he has something other than TV he loves. Also, now we can put him on bike, the girls in a stroller and roller blades on our feet and get an actual workout as a family. :D He's pretty speedy.

5. An old guy stopped me at Costco to ask if I had my baby strapped on with a curtain. Pretty much made my day. I love how wearing my babies in wraps seems to completely confound a whole subset of the population. Confounding people, in general, makes me giddy.

6. Cloth diapering is AMAZING. Honestly, it seemed rather overwhelming and kinda gross but it's FUN. I get sad on days I don't I get to wash and hang the diapers. Every three days I'm EXTRA happy because I get to make clean diapers!

7. I finished some coordinating skirts for my girls. Without patterns. Or knowing how to sew. When I get them both in the skirts at the same time, I'll take a picture. Can't promise it will make it's way on to the blog, though. You'll just have to take my word for it that they're super cute.

8. Now CJ, who has been eating pretty much since the crack of dawn and JUST gave me a break, is saying she needs more booby time. Growth spurt, anyone?

The Birth of CJ in Pictures, Part 3

Words fail me. I can not express to you how much being able to hold my daughter immediately  meant and continues to mean to me. Having been denied that most fundamental experience with Zsa Zsa for no reason other than policy, keeping CJ with me from her very first moments has been all the more sweet. It is my hope that all mamas having cesareans be allowed to experience birth this way. I feel this, in conjunction with CJ picking her birthday, led to her being a better nursling. 

The Birth of CJ in Pictures, Part 2

WARNING: Some of these pictures are graphic, and most of them are bloody. If you'd like to skip to part 3 with the non-bloody pictures, go here. 

For the story of CJ's Birth go here.

For the first part of the Story in Pictures, go here.

These are still kinda tough for me to view. I'm glad I have them to anchor me in the moment when I start to think it was worse than it was, but it's still pretty hard to see. The whole event was so monumentally life changing, seeing pictorial proof is a tad overwhelming.

The Birth of CJ in Pictures, Part 1

You have no idea how badly I wish I'd done my hair this day. Or worn something NOT pajama-y. And I wish I'd brought my own, flattering hospital gown. 

Ah well. 

This is real life, not a TV episode. 

For the story, go here

The Week After

This blog is meant, in part, to journal for my family. (It's also supposed to be informative, amusing and bombastic in turns but today it's a journal.) So here's what happened after the very dramatic entrance of CJ.

We stayed in the hospital for the better part of a week. My older kids got passed around quite a bit so Husband could work and save his paid time off for when I'd REALLY need help.

The recovery has been wickedly hard. Harder than an surgery I've had. I'm sure the two liters of blood loss didn't help. (Yes, two liters like a 2L soda pop bottle, two liters. It's a lot.)

We were ready to go home by Sunday afternoon, though. CJ had already regained her birth weight, or come awfully close, I can't remember now. That night we went to family dinner like usual, only this time, there were FIVE of us!

When we got home I noticed CJ's eye was pretty swollen. We called the nurse hotline and decided to watch it. At the 3am feed n' diaper change, it had gotten red and was leaking goopy goo.

Monday morning Husband dropped CJ and I at the doctors without an appointment (something they don't really love but what were they going to do?) and then he took the older kids to his sister-in-law's house for the day.
The doctor was pretty concerned, what with her only being 5 days old and all. He gave us a prescription and told us to come back that afternoon to have it looked at again.

So we went to Costco Pharmacy. I should have waited in the car but instead I wandered around the store with my new baby. When we went back to the doctor, he didn't think her eye was enough improved to watch at home over night so he sent us the children's hospital were CJ was admitted to the NICU for monitoring and IV antibiotics. She got two kinds of IV antibiotics and a topical antibiotic every few hours. The fear was that her eye would turn from periorbital cellulitis into orbital cellulitis or meningitis. We spent two days in NICU (which ended up being overkill of epic proportions) before FINALLY coming home.

My mom had arrived while I was annoying the NICU nurses with requests for discharge papers. She stayed a week and it was LOVELY. I laid around and slept and didn't do my hair and the dishes and laundry still got done and my children were clean and fed and played with. My mom is a marvel and we were so blessed to have her here.

Mom wasn't gone TWO DAYS before The Boy decided that he'd get himself into some powered cement. Now I don't know if you know this about powdered cement, but you really shouldn't put it in your eyes. The Boy wasn't aware of this, or even that it WAS powdered cement. He thought it was sand. Not that you should throw sand either, but my kids still haven't learned that lesson. Two showers and lots of screaming later, his eyes still looked horrid so we called poison control. Yeah. They weren't super thrilled with my kid, either.

After much discussion, we loaded The Boy and my nursling into Kate the Van and I drove to Phoenix Children's ER for evaluation. They washed his eyes out yet again, dyed them a funky orange color and diagnosed him with corneal scratches. Just that took over three hours. Yippee. The Boy was NOT thrilled with the process, even though he got an otter pop and a new toy car out of the deal. I just got another trip to Costco Pharmacy. Frankly, I'm super glad the lye in the cement didn't burn or permanently damage his eyes. Scratches on the cornea we can deal with.

That pretty much catches us up to now. I think everyone is healing or healed. It'll take a few months for me to build back my blood and feel 100%.

CJ has gained one pound one ounce and between one and three inches, depending on whose measurements you believe, since her birth.

I've lost probably close to 30 pounds since the birth and that, my friend, is reason enough for celebration. So I'm going to go break out the chocolate peanut butter ice cream and celebrate.

God Knows Our Every Desire

I am amazed at the love of God for each of his children, but I am particularly amazed today at His love for me. Amazed He cares enough about my heart to carefully orchestrate the perfect set of circumstances wherein I have a healthy baby and a healing birth; despite the fact that, once again, the baby came into the world via surgery. I hadn't known it was possible to have a healing birth via cesarean but I shouldn't be surprised. All things are possible with God.

Before we decided to have a third child, Husband and I prayed and prayed and prayed. We prayed for a normal birth. We prayed for a healthy baby. We prayed to know when the right time to have a baby would be and then we prayed some more. We both felt that a home birth would be the wisest course. So many people were very worried we'd made a bad choice. They were concerned for my safety and that of our baby. We understood their fears but chose not to let it affect our choices and I am so glad we trusted God to take care of us. Not only did He allow us a healthy baby, but He also allowed me the space and time I needed to heal from my previous experiences.

Emotional wounds don't scab over and heal in 10-14 days like skin. They stay raw-- sometimes for years. Even with the liberal application of therapy, an event or comment or something I read could re-open the slice in my heart. The Physician of my soul understands this and He understood how best to heal it.

My soul was in tatters after the birth of my first daughter. Words can't explain how I checked out from life for the first six months of hers. I have no pictures from that time in her life. My husband had a mighty work ahead of him helping me pick up the pieces and move on. Those six months were the reason it took me so long to talk him into having another child. He didn't want to lose me to that dark place again. He needed the assurance from God that this time would be better.

With Heavenly clearance at every turn, we made our plans. We found a midwife for my peace of mind, even though Husband felt from the start an unassisted birth would be fine. I sought intensive therapy to make sure a mental roadblock from Zsa Zsa's birth wouldn't derail this birth. All along I knew that the birth wouldn't go exactly according to plan, but I didn't know what that bit would be. I thought when the midwife fired me that might be it but when I felt that first little gush of blood, I knew we wouldn't have the baby at home.

I labored off and on for 30 hours. Sometimes I would bleed too much for me to be comfortable with and labor would slow down and so would the bleeding. We checked baby's heart tones often to make sure they were sounding great. The entire time I had a feeling of being watched over but also of expectation. Like the Lord was waiting for me to realize it was time to know I'd done all I could do to attempt delivery. To know in my heart that I'd done my part and now the safety of our baby was more important.

On the afternoon of the 3rd, I went to acupuncture to see if we couldn't get things moving along and over with. I was exhausted. Husband was tired. After my treatment, I stood up and gushed blood. That was when my heart sank and also when I felt peace with the idea of going to the hospital. I knew in the very depths of my soul God was watching and that everything would be OK. I felt as though my mission was over. On the drive home the bleeding seemed to stop, but once we were home, it started up again with a vengeance. I filled a Depends brand disposable undergarment every two contractions. Husband gave me another blessing and the bleeding stopped on our 20 minute drive to the hospital. The whole way there he was having such a hard time coming to grips with our God-approved plan being tossed out the window. I was holding out hope that upon arrival I'd be a complete and they'd let me deliver my baby vaginally but I felt such peace with any outcome the method of delivery was no longer important.

Checking in took forever. ER triage, on to registration, and then OB triage. Time started to drag and I began to feel faint.

Our triage nurse was an angel. I don’t remember exactly what happened or the order of things. I know I lost time because it seems like it wasn’t very long from when we checked in to when our baby was born, but in reality it was hours. They took some blood and did an ultrasound. I remember the contractions got significantly more painful. Because the baby was looking awesome on the monitors and the ultrasound came back clean, our nurse didn’t call the backup doc (Dr V), she waited for the on call doc (Dr A) to come in because she knew we didn’t like the backup doctor. This was yet another miracle. We hadn’t ever met Dr A but I talked to her on the phone before we went to the hospital. She seemed so calm and not the type to jump into the OR just because she liked surgery.  Dr V had made it abundantly clear she thought I was an idiot for even wanting a trial of labor and vaginal birth. She was the reason we’d decided not to go back to the doctor or to the hospital for this delivery. Being cared for by Dr A was just more proof God was in control of the situation. If we’d come in the previous day, Dr V would have been our doctor, regardless.

When Dr A arrived, she was so calm and patient. Her exam produced cups of blood (yes, cups). She listened to our concerns. She explained hers and we agreed to the surgery.  At the time I thought it was the anxiety of the inevitable surgery that caused my pain to increase so dramatically at this point but looking back, I think this is when the placenta really started to separate from the uterus. God had allowed me the space and time I needed to be mentally OK with another surgical birth, and now that I was in a safe place and the decision had been made, the situation devolved rather quickly.

We had enough time to visit with the nursery staff and the anesthesiologist before they took me back to surgery.

In surgery the anesthetist started the spinal. I was so thankful for it because I was really ready to be done with the pain. I was shaking so much at that point I had a very hard time holding still while the spinal was placed.

Husband and a good friend were then let into the room. I’m sure the surgery itself was the same as any cesarean except before Dr A had even gotten to the baby she said, “OK. I know what’s causing the bleeding. You have quite a few clots in here. Your placenta has started to abrupt.” Later on, she said a quarter of the placenta had separated from the uterus and I’d made the right choice to have the surgery.

As soon as Dr A pulled baby out, she held her up and Husband announced we had a GIRL! Oh, were we shocked! All this time I had known it was boy. I just KNEW.

Right away they brought her around and laid her on my chest, per our request. The nursery nurses aren’t used to that, and I could tell one of them in particular was a little put out that I’d made her job deviate from the norm.

Words cannot describe the joy of being the first to meet your own baby. Of course other people touched her on her way to me, but that doesn’t matter. I got to discover the little crinkly fold in her right ear. I got to discover that her eyebrows are different shapes and her hair and eyes are dark. I claimed her from her very first moments and it has made all the difference in our first week together.  

Her newborn assessment was done on my chest while Dr A finished making sure I wasn’t going to bleed to death and put me back together. Baby girl stayed with me on our ride to the recovery room. She stayed with me every minute of my six days in the hospital and every minute was beautiful.

I won’t be going to that dark place that swallowed me after my second surgical birth. There’s no need. I was respected as a person of worth and my daughter was treated as an individual with needs that were also to be respected.  I wish I could explain why that matters so much. Maybe it’s because of the heightened hormonal state that surrounds birth or maybe it’s something else all together. All I know is, being treated like a human being with feelings and a mind of my own was a very nice change.

I am so thankful to my Heavenly Father for creating a situation which resulted in a healthy baby. I am grateful to know He cares for me so much that not only are my physical needs met, but my emotional ones, as well. I am thankful that the right people were in the right place at the right time. And I am thankful for the prayers and fasting offered in my family’s behalf over the last few months. My heart is so full and my cup is certainly running over. 

For the story in pictures, go here. 

For the reason this birth meant so much and was so healing, see this post. 

NOTE: The placental abruption had absolutely nothing to do with the previous cesareans or the fact that I labored at home. It's just a random RARE complication of pregnancy. 

Steaming Pile of Excrement

This will come as no surprise to those who know me, but I've gotten my self into a hot mess.
I blame boredom.
Really, I should stick to knitting, sleeping,  or something equally harmless when I'm all antsy and have nothing else to do.

Yesterday I went to see a hospital based midwife. It's kind of a long story how I got there. I'll try to be brief.

1. Home birth midwife fired me.
2. Family found out, then freaked out.
3. The freak-out lasted for quite a number of days and affected me enough I started to question stuff, like the lie of the baby. (This is where I start to blame boredom. If I'd had something to DO through it all, I probably wouldn't have cared as much.)
4. I knew of exactly ONE hospital based provider I'd trust. Several mama's I know have used her and I've seen her and had enough conversations with her at Birth Circles and the like to feel that she was a reasonable individual. Plus, I needed a prescription, so I made an appointment.
5. Hospital Midwife was NOT pleased that I waited until 38 and a half weeks to seek care.
6. Bottom line: she really, REALLY wants me to birth in hospital. Well, duh. That's kind of the general consensus amongst folks who work in them. *I've* even held that opinion. Look where it got me. Hacked to bits with emotional scarring to boot and several years of intense therapy. That's where.
7. All that expensive fancy EMDR therapy I did makes it so I don't totally loathe and fear hospitals anymore. Now it's more of an icky taste on the back of my tongue. Kind of a "if it's necessary I can choke it down but I'd really rather spit it out" kind of taste. One would think that would make my choice easier, but really it's just made it harder because now I don't know what I want or what I should do.

Hospital Pros There’s a one in three chance I get the midwife I want (part of a practice, she’s not on call every day) IF something happens, I can be cared for quickly Logically the safest place IF people leave me alone	Hospital Cons Continuous Monitoring. I don’t want to be hooked up to a machine the entire time I’m there. The machine that goes ping is over rated. Which nurse you get is kind of a crap shoot. I could end up with someone awesome or someone horrid. I’d rather have more control over my team. I’m on a clock, and must deliver on their schedule. No access to shower/tub for pain relief during labor I have to drive there. In labor. Unless you’ve driven somewhere in extreme discomfort, you can’t know how annoying that is. Emotionally challenging location with baggage. I’m a little scared I can’t do this with people watching me, or at all. Astronomically Expensive.
Home Birth Pros Being in my own environment will likely shorten labor time and definitely reduces the risk of infection for me and baby I don’t need to change locations when things start to get intense Not on a clock I control who is and is not invited in the room Not tied to a monitor/room/bed Can access the shower or tub without anyone else’s say so. Baby never leaves my arms. No need to fight off interventions for baby. Cheap.	Home Birth Cons IF something goes south, it would take a while to get help. IF the southbound train is a complete rupture, baby and I are pretty much both dead. I’m in charge of the clean up. No chance of help from an official midwife I’m a little scared I can’t do this on my own, or at all

There are probably plenty of things wrong with me, and even with my brain. At least one of them isn't a brain-eating amoeba.

Mad, in a Completely Irrational Way

So last night we visited some relatives, because isn't Halloween like, a relative holiday or something?
Seriously. It's Christmas-Light.
While there, I was accosted YET AGAIN by a relative who knows only that I'm not exactly going to have my baby in a hospital. Probably. Whatever. Like it's any of their business what I do with my va-jay-jay, or where I take it, right? Personal autonomy means NOTHING when you are pregnant with progeny, apparently.
(I'm thinking of getting a shirt that says, "Don't Mind Me, I'm Just the Incubator".)
So I shrug off the encounter which included the relative telling me that I was discussed with ANOTHER relative who's a pediatrician. And they both think I'm a raging lunatic. Never mind the fact that that relative hasn't ever MET me.

Sweet.

(At some point I'm going to have to explain why I have trust issues with doctors. When you've worked with them as closely as I have, and seen their personnel files/law suits/incident reports the rose colored glasses tend to come off.)

Granted, I probably didn't handle the entire conversation with any sort of grace or tact, but I super felt bombarded. If I'm going to have the kind of conversation that includes someone essentially calling me a moron, I'd at least like to come to it prepared with relevant statistics or a baseball bat.

Anyway, I tried to maintain my "bubble of peace" but I woke up steaming mad at 1am. Here's the thing, I was MOST upset with my husband. Isn't he supposed to protect me from this kind of crap? No matter that he wasn't even in the room when it occurred. (That's the irrational part of this.) I tried to go back to sleep, but ended up yelling at The Hubs via email instead. THEN I went back to sleep. (Don't worry, I apologized in the email AND in the AM for being completely neurotic.)

So in the end I wished that I had the kind of yap that could stay shut and keep my business to my self, but deep down I'm super insecure and need lots of people to tell me what a great idea all my plans are and how awesome everything sounds. Or at the very least, to have them just nod and smile. I'm really quite needy.

This kind of situation is exactly why we didn't tell anyone we were pregnant for like, ever. (That, and because I have this irrational fear that a blog stalker will find out where I live and steal my baby out of my belly. Pregnancy turns me into a crazy person.) But at this point it's getting a little hard to disguise the bowling ball the proceeds me everywhere I go.

So until the baby comes I'm seriously considering avoiding all family gatherings. It seems safer.
What would you do?

Honesty and a Surprise (may be a Trigger for some)

I've been debating when, exactly, to tell blog land what is going on in my life. I've put it off because I'm not interested in other people's opinions about what I should or shouldn't do, and I haven't been interested in the drama that might ensue when I detail exactly how I plan to go about life over the next few weeks.

But what I really need right now is some honesty and I figure the best place to start is to be honest with myself. So here goes:

In about 66 days, I'm going to have a baby.

Surprise.

Now here's the thing; when I get pregnant, I also get super emotional. It's called antipartum depression, and it sucks. This pregnancy I chose to go un-medicated for a number of reasons I'm not getting into here. Bottom line, when I'm depressed I get needy (and kinda snarky), and being needy/snarky has a tendency to alienate pretty much everyone.
Hubs even wrote me a strongly worded email yesterday. That's kind of huge for him.
It's like 9 months of the world's worst PMS.  Shocked we're still married? Me too. Even more shocked Hubs let me get pregnant again? Ditto.

Have you noticed that when people ask how you are, and you actually tell them, they look at you funny? I never get tired of that. "How are you?" "Well, you know. Fat, tired, and generally ticked off at the world." dead silence
You should try it. It's the bright spot in my day. I do feel a little sorry for the cashier at the gas station, though. I'm pretty sure the correct response to that isn't in the employee handbook.

Anyway, lots of crap happening here, most of it related to gestating, but pretty much life currently feels like a giant cl*ster f*ck.

I've also been struggling with some MAJOR trust issues (more on this later) that are making life...interesting.

So to sum up; I'm hormonal, moody, stressed, my clothes don't fit, everybody hates me, I trust no one, and I'm having a baby.

I can't say I'd trade places with anyone, because I have some very dear friends who'd put up with all this crap just to have a baby. To be honest, this kid wasn't that easy to get earth-side. I am thankful for this new little life.

I am not thankful for the PTSD I have from my last birth that's haunting me in a MAJOR way on an hourly basis as this birth grows nearer. I'm not thankful for being so hormonal my family feels like they're walking on egg shells. I'm not thankful for the lack of a health care provider I can trust.
I just wish there were an easier way to get through this.

Luckily I'm married to the most patient man on earth and my kids are mostly cute most of the time. Otherwise, I probably would have run away by now. Unlike other life problems, it's rather difficult to run from an ever expanding belly.

So now you know why I've been a major witch lately and haven't been posting much. Feel free to unfollow me or whatever. :/
Alternately, you could send me some positive vibes. That'd be cool, too.

The point of this over-share was to relieve some pent up negative energy and give my poor husband a break. He thanks you. So do I.

First Ever Placenta Encapsulation (no pictures)

Alright folks, I just finished the steaming/slicing portion of my first ever placenta encapsulation, and I have to say, that was a lot grosser than I'd expected. Those suckers are bloody. And slippery.

I can see why moms hire other people to encapsulate for them. I would, if I'd just had a baby.

Wow. It's nasty.

That being said, I'd do it again for the $200 fee folks charge for the service. It's maybe 30 minutes of stomach churning work for two Benjamins. I think I can handle that. :)

This time, however, I did it for free.

Never. Again. Not even if I love you. (OK, I MIGHT do it again if you're related to me. Maybe. But I'd also have to like you and there are not too many people who fall under both categories.)

Hypnobirthing, Part One

cdr4A good friend asked me to videotape her most recent birth. This is probably because I don't have a problem looking at other people's naked selves, and because pretty much the only thing I talk about are my kids and birthing. There are not a lot of people I know who are totally comfortable hanging out with naked people for hours on end. Lets not talk about what that says about me. Let's talk about the birth!

About 8pm the day of the birth I got a call from my friend, asking me to come over. Her husband was gone and she felt like she might be in labor. I'd been expecting this call since about 4pm when she called and said the world was fuzzy during her contractions, but she didn't know if it was "real" labor.
Between the 8pm phone call and my getting there, her water broke.

At this point you need to know a few things. First, HypnoBirthing mommas birth FAST because they aren't scared. Second, this was not this particular momma's first time at the racetrack. Third, I live maybe 5 minutes away.

When I got there, she was talking normally to me, but about every 5-7 minutes, she'd stop, put her hand up, bow her head and close her eyes, shimmy her hips for 40 seconds or so, and then resume our conversation. She had me pack speakers, the birthing tub, and a few other odds and ends. We called the babysitter for the other children (a hunky 21 yo blond German who totally deserves his own post at some point) and the midwife's on call service to let them know she was coming to the hospital.

When her husband arrived, he asked if I'd been timing the contractions. Um, no. I was busy packing. But they were at that point 5-6 minutes apart. I'm guessing that was around 9pm. I had my car packed and was about to drive off to the hospital ahead of mom and dad when I decided to go back in the house for one last interaction. I said a quick little prayer to calm down because I was getting antsy. Not being sure we'd make it in time, and all. Last I'd checked, mom was still in the bathroom. Upon entering the house, I find out she hasn't left the bathroom.

Uh oh. Admittedly, I started to get worried at this point and decided to stick close in case we didn't make it clear to the hospital. She did come out and get into her car and I followed them to the hospital. I could tell when she was having contractions because the car would speed up. This happened four or five times.
In the parking lot of the ER (this hospital makes you check into the ER, which is totally stupid) we all pile out and she says, "I just finished a contraction." "Great, lets get inside before you have another one." Um, no again.
Mom has TWO more contractions before we make it to the entrance of the ER. During the second one, I headed inside to try to check her in while Dad (who was acting as doula, which is SO cool) stayed with Mom.
I told the ER nurse, "There's a multiparous mother with ruptured membranes just outside. Her contractions are two minutes apart. Can we get her upstairs?"
"No. We have to check her in."
"She's pre-registered. Her name is ___________"
"When is she due?"
"In a week, roughly. Although I'd say she's due in about 40 minutes."
"When is her birthday?"
"Tomorrow."
"What year?"
"I have no idea."
"Who are you, exactly? We can't check her in without this information."
I left. Went back outside and dad and I switched places. This didn't seem to help. The ER nurses wanted her to SIT DOWN inside and talk to them.
Um, no yet again. Hypno-mommas in transition don't SIT and they sure as heck aren't very willing to talk. Mom tried to come inside, but the thought of 50 people (the ER was PACKED) watching her contract on hands and knees did not appeal. Strange, I know. She walked back outside and I walked with. This is when I videoed the only tape we have of her fully clothed and having contractions.
Then the transport guy came out with a wheelchair.
"Let's get you upstairs" he says.
"In that!?! I'm NOT sitting in a wheel chair" mom replies.
I chime in with, "This would go faster if you let her walk upstairs. She really does not want to sit."
The crabby ER nurse says "It's hospital policy. We can't have you deliver standing up in the hall."
Mom turns to me and says, "If they talk to me like that upstairs, we are LEAVING!"
I'm thinking, Yeah. Right. Like we have time to get back home! I guess we could deliver in the car, if you're serious, though. 
I asked if we could use the stretcher that was sitting right there and wheel her up kneeling on the stretcher. That idea was also shot down as "Unsafe". More unsafe than delivering a baby outside the front doors of an ER? OK. Whatever.
Through this entire encounter, Mom is cool as cucumber through the contractions and only gets testy when the hospital staff say unreasonable things, like "sit" or "wait".
Finally mom agrees to sit if they promise to take her directly to the OB floor.
Dad is still checking Mom in, so I go with her. At the elevator, Dad missed making it onto the car by a nanosecond. I just was not fast enough pressing the Open Door button, which I still feel bad about. Instead of taking Mom to a room, they dump her in triage at 10pm. I tried again to let them know exactly how close she is to having a baby.
"Mom is mulitparous, membranes have been ruptured for two hours, and she's a fast birther. Her contractions are stacking. Are you sure we can't go to a room?"
"Who are you?"
"The videographer."
"Let me show you to the waiting room."
I've since learned it's best just to say I'm the sister. Sisters don't get kicked out near so often.
Pacing outside the (locked) entrance to labor and delivery, I call The Hubs and have a very testy conversation wherein I lament the fact that I'm going to miss the birth and this will be the only birth Mom doesn't have on tape because of stupid nurses and even more stupid hospital rules.
To Be Continued

HypnoBirthing

I'm so excited to start a new series on HypnoBirthing and to share what I've learned with you. (yippee!)

Recently I had the chance to attend a HypnoBirth, and I was blown away. You can check out the program's statistics here.
The series will start with the birth story from my point of view, and continue with some of the HypnoBirthing highlights and what I took away from the experience and the book.
The story is written and Mom has already agreed to share her story, but I'm waiting for t's and i's. :)

In case you don't know or forgot, I had two surgical births 20 months apart. Neither were planned or at all what I was looking/hoping for. You may or may not have read my Letter To A Bastard that goes a bit more into detail about the second birth. I don't think anyone doubts my level of obsession when it comes to birth. I've read and seen so much in the four years since that first cesarean, that running across something which moved me on such a visceral plane was shocking. I hope that you'll be equally surprised and blessed.

Stay tuned!