Dear followers!
I have been remiss in not updating my thoughts about pregnancy, birth, and everything in between (and after). That's the way of blogging I guess. Let's start with a big shoutout to my dear, amazing friends Avital and Gili Zemer who tied the knot a week and a bit ago. An amazing couple and an oustanding event.
Back to the little humanoid in Rose's uterus and all things related. While, in the past few weeks, I've been seeing movies (incendies and jellyfish most notably, both good films), I've also been reading this book, written by a midwife who has been midwifing for a good, long time. The book describes Peggy's process of transition from nurse to midwife at a time when, even in hippy California, the profession was just gaining respectability.
The rest of the book contains excellent vignettes of births, each with something interesting to tell about the mother, the partner (or, in some cases, partners, including an entire Italian family and a group of new-agey lesbians), or the process of the birth. Well-written and highly digestible book.
Today's big news, however, as the post title may have led you to believe, is the long-awaited ultrasound! Ultrasounds are important tools for scientific reasons, but even more important as incontrovertible evidence (if you trust modern science, that is) that there is a fetus growing inside the mommy. This is now beyond doubt. Unfortunately, I had to take a bus to the ultrasound and I hate taking the bus. Nevertheless, it was pretty cool. We even got a picture, and I'll even try to attach it if I can figure out how.
See that, he's already standing up! (That's just me not knowing how to turn this thing around; also, the reason I say 'he' is because Rose decided she doesn't like calling the baby 'it', so we're alternating between the two pronouns. And my brother already used up the joke about the baby's leg, so no need to bother). Anyway, you get the idea: it's a baby in there! And we even got to see inside its brain! Scary stuff. And you guys are fortunate to see it.
Loyal followers! It seems that I am on the mend. I took some advil AND tylenol last night and my temperature, from a high of 38.6C last night, was clocked at 36.2C this morning. It is miraculous! And all thanks to your thoughts and well-wishes no doubt.
What does communication mean to you? Chew on that for a second. Usually, I figure communication involves, at a minimum, some level of understanding, or at least a belief of an understanding, of an expressed message. Good enough?
How about pre-natal communication? One of the more interesting parts of this book is about prenatal communication. The idea is this: by the 18th week (coming up for us!), the fetus is already able to hear noises surrounding it. The most important, and comforting, noise is the mom's heartbeat. Some cool experiments and a very cool anecdote are cited here (hope the links work; I wish this guy did a better job of citing the literature). Still, I'm uneasy about the term 'communication;' maybe something more suitable would be 'aural stimulation.' OK, I got over the terminology!
Once these guys and gals discovered that baby's can hear stuff, the question arose, 'so what?' Here's maybe where I'm wrong on the communication terminology. At some level, at least, it seems that baby's respond positively to certain aural stimulation: it can make them smarter! (here we go again). This guy here doesn't appear to have hesitated much before taking this idea to the capitalist extreme. His system, which expectant mother uses as a pouch, sets up a whole stimulation program using patterns of sounds replicating a heartbeat. Strap it on, quick and easy!
But where does a fellow like me, who wants to explore this here prenatal aural stimulation, go? My superficial searching failed to turn up any regimented program, free for the people. On the other hand, do I need one? I'll try to take the time and do my own self-devised ad hoc vocal stimulation. I'll take my cues from Rose.
(The title of this post, by the way, has nothing to do with the topic. It's a kind of inside joke referring to a decidedly messier type of post-natal communication).
I'm sick everyone! A week before a very important event too!
's OK. I am fighting it off. Very much convinced that I caught this from an old Jew at the picture show, where Rose and I saw this stupid movie sensation that everyone is raving about: Barney's Version -- the movie. OVERRATED!
Back on track here, baby in uterus, reaching monstrous proportions. Swimming around.
The most exciting news is our securing of a doula! What is a doula, you may ask? As near as I understand it, having interviewed five of these ladies, a doula is a woman (I would be VERY surprised if there were many man doula out there. But hey, I just found out that two of my male capoeira compatriots are married, so anything's possible in this crazy world) who supports a pregnant woman, most notably during labour (but also with pre and post natal visits). A doula is also there to support me, in case I need to get a sandwich during labour, which can last a long time indeed. A doula supports the labouring woman through verbal encouragement and using various pain management techniques, both physical and psychological, including massage, hypnotherapy, visualization, breathing, etc.
Rose and I are superpsyched that the doula which chose was also the only one who brings her own birthing pool (look, daddy gets to hang out too!)! So this is getting to be a classically granola birth plan, I suppose. Try to avoid sharing this information with my parents please.
Rose and I, being thorough and responsible future-parents, interviewed five prospective doulas, including a doula goddess (on whom more at a later post, maybe). Doulas, by the way, don't come cheap -- the price range for the service is $600-$800.
Ah, interviewing, the art, the science of interviewing. A lot can be said about interviewing (and our interviewees in particular), but I will say only that the woman whom you chose to be there, for one of the most awesome, sacred, and messy processes of your life, is a privileged person indeed. I gotta a good feeling about this one.
You know when you're facing a major life change, or any decision at all, it just so happens that you notice literature and other material on that very topic that popping up around? Sure you do.
In the Jewish tradition, to which I belong, there is a special way of congratulating an expectant mother or father: 'be sha'a tova', roughly translated as 'let it come in a goodly hour.' It's not mazel tov, as you probably suspected.
Jewish people are notoriously superstitious. Notoriously. So much so that you don't buy anything for a baby before the baby shows up. This is because Jewish people are also skeptical by nature.
At any event, I find it an appropriate form of congratulations. And so, when I think about parenting, I feel as though I'm maybe getting ahead of myself, so I don't think about it too much. But I do think about it a bit. And so, the other day, I just happened to notice this crazy article about Chinese mothering, so-called (her term!). The woman, Amy Chua, a law professor at Yale maybe, wrote this guide to getting a fully actualized child--be it a virtuoso pianist, a math wizard, and so on. Madame Chua advocates the Chinese method of very tough love. Calling your child 'garbage' and so forth, in order to instill discipline and hard work. I have a feeling that Chua is perhaps trying to shock people into buying her book.
Anyway, I return to this theme that I mused about a few weeks back, of getting the best start for your child. And so you must ask yourself--I must ask myself--what is it that I want to get my child to achieve?
And for Chua, it seems that she wants the same that many of us might: for her child to achieve great things. Maybe she wanted to achieve even greater things than becoming a Yale professor. I know I expected more than a normal life with a steady job with the Canadian civil service and maybe my child can out-achieve me as I sail into my 30s with no particular drive to excel and not having the same expectations of myself that I may have had a decade ago.
But I digress. Yes, of course we should give our children possibilities to explore themselves, as my parents did for me with piano lessons, judo lessons, kung-fu lessons, basketball lessons, computer lessons, enrichment classes, and so on. But, really, do I want to torture my child into greatness? Probably not. Take a breath, Chua, and calm down. It is a law of contemporary society that families generate children that are--or will find a way to believe that they are--screwed up in some way. No need to make this painfully obvious.
One thing that I might turn my attention to in terms of expectant parenting is sign language for the kid. I look forward to reading about it and hey, it might raise the baby's IQ!
Finally, my thoughts and hopes for a good outcome for the young capoeirista who collapsed in class today. Try to make it, M. Lavertu. We're rooting for you.
Just a quick update here; it seems my capoeira friend didn't make it. Rest in peace.
Today, Wednesday January 12 at 3:20 in the afternoon, sitting in my midwife's office in Vanier and looking out a large window, I saw grey skies, a large chimney emitting steam, and an orange brick building. And I heard, for the first time, my firstborn's hearbeats. If you round your lips, put your tongue on your upper palate, and exhale forcefully as you lower your tongue, you may be making the sound that we were hearing, at 150 beats a minute. It was a special moment.
So there is a revolution in the practice of birthing in North America, where births have been hospitalized and now women are taking back their births! Not everyone is on board, but Rose and I feel like we are getting on board. The recurring theme is that births, which are, and should be regarded as a natural and, most of the time, not risky procedures, have been medicalized. At the same time, if there is a chance of something going wrong (and there always is!), isn't good to have access to medical services? Of course it is!
The Business of Being Born hones in on a particular New York-area midwife (or so I recall) who specializes in home births. A very cool woman. We're a bit different here in Ontario where we have access to midwives as provincially-accredited caregivers who can care for pregnant women in a hospital setting as well.
The midwife group that we've signed up with has occasional information session on home births and we will be attending one such session in a few months, at which point I will know more about this. My impression right now is that, unless some drug needs to be administered, no doctors have to be involved in the birth, even when it is a hospital birth, as long as the midwife has privileges at the hospital.
What difference does this make? Rose and I feel that we've already made a key decision in de-medicalizing (if that's a word) the pregnancy and birth by choosing to go with a midwife. We think that an experienced midwife (which we're lucky to have) will probably be more tolerant and patient than a doctor (and these suspicions have been confirmed in the movies--admittedly, based in the States--that we've been seeing).
So birthing in a hospital under a midwife's care should be good, right? Probably. BUT, there may be some reasons to prefer trying a home birth rather than a hospital birth.
First reason, you are familiar with the surroundings and you have more control over them. The woman can labour in any way she wants to, without having to worry about procedures, etc. The lights can be dimmed. And so on.
Second reason, not having access to drugs and medical interventions will make it less likely that the woman will receive them.
Third reason, a woman who decides to labour and give birth at home may have an uncomplicated birth because she chose to do it at home. This may sound weird, but it may be true. It may be a self-fulfilling prophecy.
The question I've posed to myself is whether there is the possibility of experiencing a risk that can only be treated in a hospital when it becomes too late to make it to a hospital? If the answer to this is 'yes', then of course we should have a hospital birth. But the evidence that we have been exposed to appears to show that, as long as the birth is low risk, the midwife is experienced, and the hospital is less than 15 minutes away, a home birth is safe.
Home birthing is also a sensitive topic, in my case, for family members. So let's try to avoid sharing these reflections with my mother. You know who you are.
I may have led you to believe, based on my last posting, that I am a convert to Leboyer's birthing method. But this is not true. I have certain reservations.
Unlike some of the more recent popular proponents for natural home birth who tend to strongly advocate for the mother, Leboyer focuses on the baby's well-being. You might say the Leboyer's chief insight is pointing out the neglect of the baby in the birthing process. But then Leboyer's method begs the question about the mother's well being. In his concerns for the baby's emotional well-being, Leboyer prescribes a silent delivery room. Now, perhaps this can be a useful part of giving birth peacefully, but hey, maybe the mother has let out some steam!
I didn't look a lot into criticisms of Leboyer and his methods, but I looked a bit (and also checked out a bit of the scholarship). I looked at this brief article from People's magazine, archived from 1976, which superficially explores Leboyer's own life experiences. It is telling that the motivation for his technique stems, at least partly, from Freudian analysis which allowed Leboyer to relive his own traumatic birth. Also, what must be acknowledged by Leboyer and all men, and that which I am happy to acknowledge myself, is that we, men, cannot have access to the birthing experience.
Partly I think that I am drawn to Leboyer's method because I suspect that maybe my own birth experience could have been better too (see, this is the personal part of blogging that I committed to in my previous post). Maybe if my mother had something closer to a natural birth and chose to breastfeed, I might be a more naturally compassionate person.
Having a new baby is like buying a new car. For the first few weeks, you fuss all over it, you wash and wax it, smell it. Then you start noticing a scratch here and a ding there, and you relax. Still, it's important to do what you can to give the baby a good start. Without going crazy, in following the guidelines to a healthy pregnancy with some attention paid to the fetus when it can hear you, and having a healthy birth, you are doing what you can for the baby and for you.
I've been told by my one reader (my wife) that this blog is not personal enough. I guess I have trouble getting in touch with my emotions sometime, which makes it difficult to share them. I do not deny being a follower of Platonist psychology, which may be outdated for our culture. Times change!
This may be the most personal posting yet, Rose!
In my fruitful searches on my local public library catalogue, using subject terms such as natural birth (or the equivalents thereof), I came across some really cool stuff, including the classic video Birth Without Violence (I am a bit surprised not to find the clip on youtube, but there you are!). The first part of this 3-part dvd is footage of a birth without violence, a method pioneered by French physician Frederick LeBoyer (a rather short wikipedia entry!).
Anyway, Dr. LeBoyer, after delivering about 9,000 births, came to realize that the one neglected being in this entire process happens to be the baby being delivered. In his book (of the same title as the movie), LeBoyer lyrically explores the oft-neglected newborn's sensory, psychological, and emotional state and experience as it comes into the world. It's a beautifully-written (translated, I guess: LeBoyer is a French-trained doctor) account, more literary than scientific.
The bottom line of LeBoyer's argument is that, in what has become the standard way of delivering babies in the western world, the baby is the often the loser. Where we consider it a good sign for the baby to cry its lungs out, the baby is actually often in serious distress, being evacuated from the comfort (in the 'golden state' of gestation) then prison (in later stages) of its mother's womb, the baby, disoriented and exposed to a hyper-sensory experience, is treated inhumanely. It is immediately exposed to bright lights, has its umbilical cord cut, put on a scale, and wrapped in cloth. Instead, says LeBoyer, a normal birth should take place in a quiet (almost silent) environment, softly-lit.
In a birth with no complications (so-called natural childbirth) the baby, once born, is to be placed on its mother's belly with its stomach down (its spine and head are to be treated with caution--the spine because it is not used to supporting anything; the head, because of its being a sensory centre). The umbilical cord, if we follow LeBoyer's method, is not to be cut until it stops pulsating (this way, the baby has access to fresh blood from the placenta as its tiny lungs spring into action). The mother then touches the baby softly. The second stage of the LeBoyer delivery consists of bathing the baby in warm water for a few minutes, letting it playfully explore its new environment.
The first part of the dvd I mentioned is footage (about 20 minutes long) of a LeBoyer birth--a birth without violence. It's an amazing clip; very much recommended.
LeBoyer publicized his method, in book and dvd, in the late 70's or so. After delivering 9,000 babies in the standard way, he proceeded to deliver 1,000 using his method. The film is a beautiful classic. I ended up watching it only after seeing some more contemporary accounts, including the Business of Being Born, which I thought, despite my skepticism when I found out that this is a Ricky Lake production, was an excellent movie.
The premise, counterintuitive to some, of the Business of Being Born and other similar films (such as the Orgasmic Birth -- which has also been released in the last couple of years), is that the standard birth in the hospital, rather than at home, poses unnecessary risks. (By the way, this fellow never fails to make an appearance in all of these films). The idea is that, in standard hospital conditions, the birth is taken over by doctors, nurses, and machines; the woman is unnecessarily offered, and ends up accepting, pain killing drugs; this often leads to putting the baby in distress; the woman gets an epidural and then, often unnecessarily, a risky delivery, including a vacuum-induced birth or C-section; and the baby, which was in danger (because of the interventions, you see), is safely delivered! All of this adds up to an unncessarily traumatic experience for the birthing woman (not to mention the baby!).
The contemporary proponents of natural birth argue that, in normal circumstances, birth is not a medical procedure, but a natural process which the mother's body knows how to go through; that the pain (or intensity) is a normal (and indeed, productive) part of the birth, and is accompanied by a useful hormonal cycle; and that the birth, when done in a comfortable setting, can even be a pleasurable (orgasmic even!) experience. These movies show some amazing birth footage. In some cases, the labour takes hours and hours (a situation which a hospital might treat with some intervention); in others, it is a short process. What all of these births have in common is the satisfaction of the mother's having given birth naturally (there is an interesting--and accidental!--exception to this in the Business of Being Born, which I found balances out the perspective a bit). In addition, the home and natural birth procedure is backed up by impressive statistics of less interventions and C-section deliveries.
(Interestingly, I am yet to see in any of these movies, a case where a mother regrets having given birth at home, or where some condition during the duration of the birth required being transported to a hospital. (The book Home Birth in the Hospital usefully offers multiple stories, though they all take place in the hospital)).
These latest examples of the contemporary natural birthing movement (which has been around for a few decades now: Ina May Gaskin is considered an important pioneer), seem to me, in a way that's typical to our culture, to focus on the mom's individual experience-- sometimes, and here is the kicker, with no real attention paid to the baby! I found this to be especially true in the Business of Being Born, where Ricky Lake is out to rectify her own previous traumatic birth experience by doing it naturally and giving birth in her own bath tub this time around. As the baby safely emerges, she grabs it and emotionally explodes into cries "my baby! my baby!" In contrast to this, LeBoyer writes that the baby should be accepted into the world by his mother with the affirmation 'I am a mother', rather than 'this is my baby.' (Of course, who am I to judge Ricky Lake or, for that matter, any woman (and especially you, Rose!) at the moment of delivery?).
Well, I think I made one or two of my points here, anyway, which have been swirling around in my consciousness. This is a very long entry and the personal stuff, I guess will come sometime later (epic cop out!).
