why i love breastfeeding

If you had asked me two months ago, I would have told you I did not enjoy it in the least bit. I didn't even have a negative experience with breastfeeding to being with. River was born a great sucker, latched on within five minutes of being born, and it was my instinct to want to breastfeed him right away. I was raised by a mama who exclusively breastfed all four of us kids, and would have never thought to formula feed my own children. I was enthusiastic and excited to breastfeed, knowing that there is nothing better I could give my baby. But I did not enjoy it like I thought I would, and I didn't have a problem admitting it either. I can say I understand why some mamas choose to formula feed. For me, breastfeeding was painful, and yes, I was doing everything right. He was latched on correctly, I held him in the right position and everything - I was just very sensitive. I felt smothered, because it was always me who had to do it (can't pass off feeding to daddy if I'm tired). I thought it was inconvenient, because it felt awkward in public. Mixing powdered formula in a bottle of tap water never sounded so welcomed.

I'm still only four months into it. I'm still learning and discovering, and so is River. And it took me four months to get to the point where I can say I love it. I love that my baby needs it not only for physical nourishment, but for emotional comfort as well. I love that I stuck it out, and am now at a point where I've toughened up and pain is no longer an issue. I love that I can do it any time of the day, and don't have to worry about schedules or over-feeding. I love that I am the only one who can feed him - it's a special time just between me and him. I love that when I take him and he's hungry, he starts desperately sucking on whatever he can get his mouth on before I'm even ready. I love when he's not really hungry, but just wants to nurse for the heck of it, gets distracted, looks around the room, smiles at me - all the while suckling away. I love that I have the confidence to nurse in public - I'd like to think I'm "representing" and nursing in public for "the cause." I love that what I am giving my baby is building his immunities and is specially formulated for him as he grows and changes. Breastmilk was designed for baby. Breasts were designed for baby. I'm back to being enthusiastic and excited. I know in the future, with River and with other children I have, there may be bigger bumps in the road. But I'm so glad I now understand what is truly so precious and amazing about breastfeeding. I'm proud to be a breastfeeding mama.

the birth of river jeremiah

The Start of My Labor

My water broke at 1:00pm on August 10th, which I immediately thought was crazy and hilarious, since John kept saying my labor was going to start with my water breaking. I have been all about statistics this pregnancy (it's easy to debate homebirth with people when good statistics are on your side), so I kept telling him "only 15% of labor starts with a woman's water breaking, so I don't think that's going to happen." I also thought it was crazy and hilarious because it was only 2 days after River's estimated due date, and I expected him to be a week late, if not more. Two days isn't bad for a first time baby (first-time mommies are 8 days late on average. See? Statistics are handy.)

Our air conditioner was out at our apartment, so we'd spent the night at the church, and John had just gone downstairs to work 15 minutes earlier. I was half-snoozing when I felt a small stream of water, and at first I thought I had peed in my pants, which was strange since it's not everyday I involuntarily,or voluntarily, for that matter, wet myself. I ran to the bathroom and called John, saying "This might sound crazy but I think my water just broke." It felt weird to say that. It sure sounded crazy to me. I knew I was 9 months (uh, 10 months?) pregnant, but seriously, did I actually have to give birth? WHAT?!

John came upstairs to, well, do nothing I suppose, and then went downstairs to send off a few emails before going home. I started happily packing up my things, thinking "Oh hooray, we'll have a baby by tomorrow morning!" and joined him downstairs, where water gushed twice more before we finally went home, soaking my pants. How awkward. And they say you probably won't be in a public place even if it does happen. Thanks, What to Expect, for trying to put my crazy pregnant mind at ease.

At the exact moment I started climbing the stairs to our apartment, I had a contraction. It was 45 minutes after my water first broke. It was crampy, but not bad at all, and I was so excited and relieved that my labor was actually starting. I kind of figured it never would. (I don't know how I expected the baby to actually enter the world.) The maintenance man was still fixing our AC in the apartment, so I decided to take a shower to keep cool and pass the time. I got out twenty minutes later when the contractions started getting a little harder, and John called my friend Samantha for me, who I had planned to have at the birth. I gave her a list of things we still needed for the birth, and when I was about to get off the phone ten minutes later, I realized I had had about five contractions during the conversation. They were like mild menstrual cramps - I could talk through them, but they were a bit painful. Nothing I couldn't easily handle.

Labor Gets Difficult

She called me back a few minutes later and said she was coming over right away, because it sounded like I was going into active labor, and that her sister Grace was going to stop at the store . This is when things started getting a little foggy. I'm pretty sure Sam showed up around 3:00 pm, and she immediately started timing my contractions, which were all thirty seconds to two minutes apart, and very sporadic. Within the next hour, three calls were made to my midwife that went a little something like this..

1. 3:15pm: It's Whitney. Oh yeah, I'm doing great. They are painful, but I can still talk through them. No worries!

2. 3:34pm: Um, hi. It's Samantha. I think Whitney's in active labor. Yeah. They are getting stronger and closer together.

3. 4:20: It's John. Uh, Whitney needs you. Now.

So, as you can see by my very descriptive story of my labor, everything happened very quickly. Sometime during the last forty-five minutes, Samantha's sister Grace and their sweet aunt Beate arrived at our apartment. Beate and Sam were helping me through contractions and rubbing my back while Grace and John were running around (probably like chickens with their heads cut off - but like I said, I don't remember much after about 3:15) getting things ready (I assume). Right after John got off the phone with her, Alisa lef for our apartment. Salli, the assistant midwife, had left her home a while ago to come check on me and update Alisa on my labor and was expected to arrive before her (Alisa had sprained her ankle just two weeks before and was avoiding walking if she didn't have to) - my whole pregnancy, I warned John that I might get very grumpy during labor, but the bitchiest thing I said (or grunted between contractions, rather) was "I don't want that other midwife - I want Alisa!"

Transition

During my whole labor, I kept running a typical first birth through my head - I was expecting this to last at least 12 hours, and the first few hours of labor to be easy enough for me to continue through my day. At one point, when I had been laboring for about two hours, I told Beate after a very hard contraction, "I don't want to go through hours more of this." And she said, "Oh you won't...this baby is going to be here very soon." I remember not believing her, but hoping with all my heart she was right. After another contraction, I said I didn't think I could do it. I heard so many women say the point where you don't think you can handle any more is right before the baby is about to arrive. I thought I was just being a baby, but I held onto that bit of knowledge.

[I must take a moment to explain a revelation I had about my birthing experience. After I gave birth to River, I knew that what every other woman had said about a planned, drug-free, relaxed birth was so true - that it was an amazing, empowering experience. But one thing I didn't understand when I was reading others' birth stories was that women used the word "intense" to describe their contractions getting harder. I wondered if that meant more painful, or something else, and if it did mean pain, why didn't they just say pain instead of confusing and scaring a poor, young, about-to-birth mama like myself? There are enough unknowns already! After I gave birth, I was telling my story to someone and realized I was using the same word - intense. I thought about why I was using this, because my contractions were very painful, and when they got more intense, that does mean the pain intensified. Then it dawned on me - in our society, we associate the word "pain" with negative things. But my birthing experience was anything but negative - it was the best experience in my life. Just thought I would let you in on that little birthing secret. ;)]

Sure enough, I was in transition, and started feeling like I might throw up. This was one of my biggest fears, but I had come to a point of acceptance before I went into labor that if I threw up, everything would really be okay, and besides, it might help me dilate a few centimeters. I ended up not throwing up, but realized what I was feeling was the need to push. Weird to get those things confused, but that's how I experienced it. I started grunting a lot during my contractions and didn't even realize this was my body trying to tell me to push. Alisa arrived at about 4:45, and checked to see how much I was dilated - I was 9.5 cm. She told me I could breathe through the next few contractions and push when I reached 10 cm, or I could push if I wanted, but that she would have to push the lip of my cervix back so that I was fully dilated and it might hurt. I couldn't imagine just breathing through the next few contractions, and also couldn't imagine anything could hurt more than these contractions, so I decided to push.

Pushing

I got in the birth pool that had magically been blown up during sometime for which I was apparently not present (I was busy in Labor Land, as my midwife calls it). The warm water was amazing and helped so much with the pain. I grunted a lot through the first push, and Alisa told me to use all that energy to push downward. I remember that not making sense at first (my head was very foggy), and asked her to say it again. Once I got it, it helped more than I could imagine, and after the first few pushes, I got the hang of it. I can't remember if I could feel River moving down at first, but I do remember a bit later, when I realized how freaking huge he was, and wondered how the hell that head was supposed to fit. This is when I experience fear for the first time, but this is also where the labor got truly amazing. I realized I was scared, and even voiced "How is this supposed to come out?" but I was also thinking of all the natural (planned) births I had read about. In Ina May's Guide to Childbirth, she talks about how much psychology has a hand in having a good birth experience, and that women who were scared, embarrassed, sad, or upset (or any other negative emotion) wouldn't progress in their labor, or sometimes their labor would stop altogether. I reminded myself that this is what my body was designed to do - that women thousands of years before me had given birth naturally, perfectly, and were just fine, and that I would be holding my baby in my arms in just a short while. I decided to push through the pain. I could feel him moving down, and reminded myself that it was two steps forward, one step back - but that every push was a step closer to having my baby.

The whole pushing experience was worlds better than trying to deal with contractions. Pushing through the contractions sort of masked the pain, and made time go by so quickly. I was exhausted, like I hadn't slept in forever, and rested against John between pushes. Despite the pain, it was a very calm, relaxed time during the labor.

River, Meet World

When Alisa told me I was crowning, I couldn't believe it. Even though I had been pushing for almost an hour, I had no concept of time, and I could sit here today and tell you I pushed for ten minutes. She asked me if I wanted to feel the baby's head, but I said no (I understand why, but I am still surprised!). I was concentrating so hard on pushing, I didn't want to stop or get distracted. After a few more pushes, she and John made me feel his head, and I'm so glad she did. What a hit of reality! His head was wrinkly and his hair felt like algae on a river rock (haha, seriously, no pun intended). Finally his head was out, and I was more than ready to get the rest of him out and hold him. Eventually, that happened too, and when he came out, I squealed...haha. I hate that word, but that's what I did. It wasn't because it hurt, at all, but because I was so ecstatic to have this little boy I had been bonding with for nine months, in my arms, FINALLY!

During my birthing experience, I felt such a strong connection between me and God, between me and River, and it gave me a better understanding, respect, and pride in my body and what I am capable of. One of the things I was worried about while I was pregnant was becoming too tired to give birth. I am a person who has zero resistance (totally and sadly out of shape). While I definitely got exhausted, I found strength in myself I didn't know I have. I feel like I gave River a gift, too. He was born in a peaceful, loving environment. I was the one who "caught" him. I was the first person to hold him. He laid on me and nursed within ten minutes of being born. And then he didn't leave me for a while, because I got to hold him as long as I wanted. He got to spend his first night of life in bed with me and John - in our home. I can sit here today and say I truly enjoyed giving birth. I encourage ALL women who plan on having babies to RESEARCH birth. I am thankful to God that it is something he has given me as a woman - he created my body to do something incredible. If you are low-risk, consider drug-free birth. It is a beautiful, natural thing, not something to be scared of. It's not an illness that requires you to be hospitalized and pushed in a wheel chair. And it's something you are totally and completely capable of.

something for myself

When I was younger, I used to write the dreams I had for my life all the time; pretty much My List of Things to Do Before I Die. Then I grew closer to God and realized life is about so much more than having a list of selfish ambitions like wanting to swim with dolphins, meet Bill Cosby, and back-pack through Europe. I became content with "going with the flow," God's flow, to be cheesy, and I stopped writing down goals I had for myself. I figured God would take me where he wanted to take me, as long as I was following and submitting to him, and that he wanted me to spend my time growing closer to him, caring for the poor and needy, and being content with whatever situation I am in. Ultimately, this change was very good for me, because I learned to not be concerned with the things of the earth, but instead, to be concerned with the things of heaven.

The other night, John talked to me about having goals for myself and writing them down. Even though I did this all the time as a kid, it was a novel idea, in a sense. It hadn't crossed my mind, and I was used to that meaning writing down petty things, and most likely things I would never accomplish. (I highly doubt I will ever back-pack through Europe. However, if God ever wants me to do so, I will happily oblige.) So here is my new, revised, and sensible list of goals for my life. I prayed over them and even took a few out. Everything on my new list is generally things I've always had in my mind, but never took the time to write them down, or even actively try to obtain them. I feel like nothing on this list goes against what God's will is for my and John's life, and that rather, everything is pointed towards his plan.



My (New) Grown-Up List of (Sensible) Goals and Aspirations :)

1. To live for heaven. To be concerned with the things of heaven instead of the things of earth. To be mission-minded, and to love and serve Christ.

2. To be able to see and unselfishly submit to God's will for my and John and our family's life.

3. To be married to John for the rest of my life. To continually learn more about him, love him with a 1 Corinthians love, and respect and honor him. To grow with him and mold our relationship into one that is pleasing to God.

4. To be a good mother to my children. To be an example for them to follow, and to teach them wisdom. To lead them to follow Christ, love people, be content, and have missionary hearts.

5. To homeschool my children as long as it is God's will for our family and each individual child.

6. To start up my photography business and be successful. To acquire a small business license, design a website, have adequate advertisement, and perfect my skills and creative vision as a photographer.

7. To finish school and earn my bachelor's degree. To stay focused and on top of my schoolwork, and to pass every class.

8. To pay off all my and John's college debt in a matter of a few years, not twenty or thirty years.

9. To buy a house that will be conducive for our growing family.

10. To be able to support a large family.

11. To adopt a child or children.

12. To write a book and have it published.

13. To be able to help and support my children financially when they go to college and start off on their own.

14. To be more creative and to actively create.

15. To live and eat healthily and exercise, and to teach my children to do the same.

yep, i'm definitely pregnant

My midwife Alisa told me a little bit about the history of belly dancing. One of the ladies she leads a pregnancy class with teaches belly dancing for pregnant women as a means of exercise (and something to do to keep them feeling sexay). As it turns out, belly dancing was originally a way for women to teach their daughters about birth -- they would dance it with their daughters as a celebration of birth. A dance about the pregnant, vuloptuous woman preparing her body for birth by the fluid movements of her hips and abdomen. It was later that the dance was sexualized, but its original purpose and meaning is so beautiful to me.

Today John and I went to see a friend perform at a small festival, and the performance before his was a group of belly dancers. Immediately, what came to my head was what Alisa told me about the dance. The women looked beautiful on the stage. One lady (I assume she was the instructor -- she exuded so much confidence and performed solo, with more skill than the other women) was wearing a top that revealed her mid-drift. The first thing I noticed is that this lady was cut. I mean, wow. She had great abs. The next thing I noticed was that her skin was sort of lose and she had little stretch marks just above her skirt. Obviously, she was a mommy.

Then for a second I wanted to cry. Here was woman who was a mommy and had given her body to her child, and now was embracing her body, showing it off by dancing this breathtaking birthing dance (whether or not she, or anyone else watching, saw it as that) -- the whole thing was incredible to me. Incredible, beautiful, inspiring -- whatever you want to call it. (Clearly, I am a tad emotional.)

I can't wait to give birth. I know that may sound crazy, and I have people (mainly my younger friends who aren't even thinking of having a child anytime soon) ask me if I'm scared of giving birth, especially since I am doing it naturally, and I have found myself saying, "Actually, no. I'm looking forward to it. I can't wait." I'm sure once I'm 9 months pregnant and the birth is right around the corner, I'll be thinking a bit differently.

the start of an adventure

i decided to create a diary of sorts, to write in throughout the pregnancy and birth of my first child, if not for myself, then for my kid to read about the hell he or she put his or her mother through. for starters, i want to say that i can't wait for the day we'll be able to tell what the sex is. until then, i will call the baby she, because i have a feeling it's a girl (maybe this is linked to the fact that i desperately want a girl). if we find out the baby is a boy, then i will, of course, change my pronoun usage to male. and, of course, i will be just as thrilled to have a little boy as i would a girl.

my husband and i got pregnant within a week of getting married, which makes me 14 weeks along. let me first say that the most confusing thing was figuring out how far along i am -- which doesn't make sense, since it's really just an estimation anyway. what i finally figured out is that the first day of your last period is the first day of your first week of pregnancy (what? you say. but there's no baby in there! pregnant?!). the second week is the week you ovulate, make a little hanky panky, and the beautiful miracle of baby making begins. the third week -- well, i don't really know what happens the third week, but the forth week is that glorious week you miss your period and run to the nearest drugstore to buy the most expensive multi-pack of home pregnancy tests (just in case the cheap ones really don't work as well as the box says they will, and in case the first test you take says you are, in fact, pregnant, so you can take the other three it comes with. just in case.)

in my case, i trusted the cheap tests (i didn't really believe i was pregnant) and bought the two pack. both came back with two little lines, or happy face, or whatever, and i couldn't find anything to say except "oh my gosh. oh my gosh! oh my gosh? oh my gosh! oh my gosh." both of us were thrilled even though we had made a plan not to have children for four or five years, and followed up this plan by not using any form of birth control whatsoever.

now, every book about pregnancy i have picked up had a chapter on sharing the news, but in our case, we couldn't keep our mouths shut and everyone on earth knew within two days that we were pregnant. i was leaning more towards keeping the news hush hush for a couple months, only telling our mothers (i had to tell my mom -- i was expecting to be like every other pregnant woman and hugging the toilet in a few days, and didn't want to deal with this alone. and my husband just had to tell his mom if my mom knew.) but the next night we told some friends of ours who are health nuts and have had all three of their children at home, which is what we are planning on doing, so we needed to know what the next step was.

after we sent an email to our mothers with a photograph of the positive pregnancy test and talked to them on the phone, my husband took it upon himself during the next couple days to call all of his family and tell them, too. now, let me explain that my husband is hispanic (as am i, but i am a halfsican, meaning half mexican, half white. and all my hispanic family thinks they're white, anyhow.) and in the hispanic community, families are very close and very important. so when i say he called his family, i don't just mean his grandparents, his dad, and his step-sisters. i mean all 12 of his aunts and uncles, his cousins, his second cousins, his aunt's and uncles siblings -- anyone related by blood or through marriage over the age of 18 who owns a phone. then he wanted to tell the staff at church, which he did the following days -- without me! i quickly let him know that i wanted to be the star of the show and had to see the reaction on people's faces too, and he learned to let me in on the news sharing (although, it was a little late, seeing as how now half the church knew.)

needless to say, sharing the news was great fun, but it all happened so quickly, and i wish i'd had a video camera to record some of the reactions we got. afterall, we'd only been married for 3 short weeks when we found out i was "4 weeks along." (not!) and i've also learned through the process that the women who complain that pregnancy is really ten months instead of nine (40 weeks = 10 months, hello!) have no reason to complain: you don't even know you're pregnant for the first whole month of pregnancy! which to me, is absolutely no reason to complain. i revell in that blissful ignorance.