six and a half stitches

WHAT SHE WORE TODAY

Wow. I'm not quite sure what to say, except thankyou to everyone who has commented over the last week - about Pia's Story, and about the feeding, and to offer congratulations on her birth. I am a little shell shocked at the responses I've had to all, particularly the feeding stuff. I have my days when I'm ok about it all, and I have my days when I need to hear there are other people who have had the same troubles, and I thank those of you who took the time to comment, and to email privately. My children are so much more than breastfed or bottle fed, and the wonderful time I am having with Pia is testimony to me making the right decision. I get just as close to her with a bottle as I do with the breast, and we have a lot of skin to skin time and one on one time.

One thing I must say though, is that I am so enjoying the happy hormones which have come with this birth. I'll have more of them please! Except, no-one told me when you have a girl you get the Pink Hormone as well - suddenly, some shades of pink are looking kind of ok.........

Especially when combined with red and orange. The knitting and sewing urges are back. My 2 Kaishu stools in Florence Broadhurst prints:: some Marimekko fabric to recover a bouncy chair - an idea stolen off Cast On Cast off:: and assorted wools Artyarns Merino and another one I can't remember which will become a little lightweight one button cardigan for, you guessed it, Pia. This blog could be in serious trouble of becoming a What Pia Wore Today chronicle...........

THE OTHER OPTION

This post is probably the most painful, and the hardest one, I will have to write. I know at points through this I will cry. I’ve debated for many, many months about whether to write this up – I fear more than anything that I will be judged for what I write and had hoped things would be different after Pia's birth so I could wash some of this away. I will be judged for the decision I made, not once, but twice. And the fact those decisions were extremely hard and emotional for me, makes the judgements even more cruel. I think though, that this is such an integral part of who I am, and the person I have become, that it needs to be said. And if, like Pia’s Story, I can give one other woman some comfort in them having to make the same decision, it will have been worth it.

I had to give up breastfeeding with both Max and with Pia.

In a country which has become fanatical about breastfeeding to the point of extremism, there are only two possible choices a mother could make. You either choose to breastfeed, or you choose to bottle feed. There is no middle ground, no safe haven for those who actually really, really wanted to breastfeed and couldn’t for whatever reason. In the socio-economic circles I live in, I do not know one person who bottle feeds. I am an isolated person within my peer group, and that isolation hurts.

I stopped breastfeeding with Max after 8 days. We had great latch on, position, etc for the first few days. Then a feeding frenzy where we must have had a not so good latch on. And then a terrible few days on the ward with psychotic patients, nurses and midwives through the night who cut their toe nails at the nurses station and bitched about patients for all to hear. Throw in engorgement, and over zealous day time midwives who thought it might be psychologically better for me to be at home rather than on the wards with all the drama, and my confidence was crushed, my nipples cracked, and high levels of anxiety set in. Once home I couldn’t get a good latch on. The nipples deteriorated. My anxiety increased. Max’s anxiety increased. Hysteria set in along with the trauma of the past week. Pain, bloodied feeds, lack of any sleep for 9 days straight and a distressed mother and baby. I withdrew from Max. I actually couldn’t bare to touch him or have him near me. I now know it is possible for someone to cry hysterically for an entire day. Days even. My husband made the call to stop. For our family. For me. For him. For Max.

There has not been one single day since that I haven’t regretted that decision, haven’t felt intense guilt and grief at what I did and what Max has missed out on. I have walked through the years of Max’s life with this burden of my own creation, and have gone out of my way to be a more than perfect mother to make up for it. The pressure and guilt I placed on myself was one of the major contributing factors in PND. I never, ever thought I would not breastfeed. It was never an option in my thinking. So to have to make that call, devastated me. I learnt very quickly, that motherhood is about compromises. Some of them are small concessions, some of them are huge. I got to make all the huge ones within the first two weeks. I had to come to terms with a birth which went totally against my beliefs, and feeding which was against my beliefs. Max though, was happier, less stressed, settled quickly, and is one of the healthiest, most alert, imaginative, intelligent children I know.

I honestly thought the feeding issue with Max was due to circumstance, and the situation I was in. I really did believe that Pia’s feeding would be different. I had a better frame of mind, I knew what was in store. I could do it this time.

The first feed my nipples shredded. Both sides. I had lactation consultants coming out of my ears in hospital. Not one of them/us could get a good latch on. We were constantly making do with nearly good latching. We stopped breastfeeding, and expressed to give the nipples a break. Every feed a midwife would come in and maul my breasts to get colostrum out while we chatted jovially about things. Every visitor I had copped an eyeful of fairly brutal breast manipulation, and a harsh lesson in motherhood difficulties. I shut them out. I decided to feed again with the help of a further lactation consultant. Again, we suffered with nearly good latchings. The nipples got even more shredded through the night. In the quiet isolation of the early hours of the morning, the anxiety settles in, building in intensity with each minute ticking closer to the next feed. The next stage was to express once the milk came in. Add engorgement again – I have no problem producing good milk – and we were on a path to destruction. With the electric pump on the lowest, mildest settings, my nipples still got further damaged. I could have persevered and used a nipple shield – but if the electric pump was causing damage, I really couldn’t see the shields doing much good. I cried long and silently with each feed, trying hard not to focus on the blood mixing with the milk. That is such a horrible, distressing thing to see. I talked to a number of people at the hospital, and decided to stop. Too many tears, too much anxiety. It just isn’t worth it.

I started panicking – a panic attack within 3 days of being a new mother is not a good sign really for someone on PND/depression watch. I really didn’t want to do this again. To open up old raw wounds and repeat past mistakes is just too much – I wanted to enjoy my first weeks with my new baby, not feel anxious and pressured, and panicked about each feed. I didn’t want Pia to know her mother in those weeks as someone who cries whenever they see her. I am so conscious of maternal depression and it’s affects on children – none of which can be accounted for till much later, but how much sorrow has Max seen that could have been avoided? I made my decisions for my family – my bond with Max and Pia is worth far more. My mental sanity is worth more.

Yet still I dread every feed in public where I am judged by other mothers who have no understanding of my situation. I dread answering the questions about feeding. I dread the smugness of mothers who find it easy, who assume everyone can do it. I dread the judgements. I now have twice the guilt – even though I made this decision much better informed, and with the total support of everyone at the hospital and I am ok about that decision. I understand now why it isn’t working: I have very small nipples, and they’re very sensitive. Pia and Max were never able to get them up far enough into the mouth to suck properly, hence their ability to shred instantly. Past damage hasn’t helped their cause. I know I tried everything I could to make it work this time.

But still, the pain will be mine forever.

This same post will appear at The Washing Line as well.

 

PIA'S STORY

Pia’s story is not in itself remarkable, but in the context of Max’s birth, and all that has happened in between, it is very remarkable for me. I think it’s really important to share birth stories – the good bits and the bad bits. It’s cathartic, and reassuring, and a good record for later when your memory fades and the details become obscured. I also want to tell this because in a way it explains why I needed the information on ARM, why it was important, and for all those other women who want to try VBAC (Vaginal Birth After C-section).

Nearly 4 years ago I gave birth to Max. It was supposed to be a drug free, natural water birth. That’s what I hoped for anyway. Hospital management systems decided otherwise, and when at 11 days overdue my body still showed no signs of going into labour, and I was worn out and loosing confidence every day to do it naturally, it was decided we should induce. Induction with prostin gel led to concentrated labour of intense pain, but little strength in contractions, slow moving labour, constant monitoring, additional drug use with syntocinin drip, more drawn out labour, a change of midwives at the end of the crucial first stage, a new midwive considerably less interested in me and the baby and who asked me to push against my will and against contractions, and the end result a c-section. I think we did every form of invasive drug related medicalised birthing possible – except forceps or ventouse for which I am still grateful. The trauma of the birth caught up with me a few days later when more drama hit the shared post natal ward in numerous forms, and the well latching baby decided to not latch well, and breastfeeding took a downward spiral to anxiety, distress, lack of bonding with Max, hysteria, shredded nipples, and the decision to stop in order to save my fledgling relationship with my son. Down the track, PND set in, and a lot of it had to do with the breastfeeding and birth. All of this could have been avoided with proper management, control, and people who cared enough to make it happen. So when I got pregnant with Pia, I was determined to make it a different experience, not matter what the outcome.

Many people assumed that because the first birth had been so traumatic, that the second one I would choose the ‘easy’ option and elect to have a c-section. But I was pretty convinced the birth went the way it did because of mismanagement, not because of a fault with my body. I read up what I could and where I could, and there seemed to be no reason not to birth naturally this time. I made sure I tapped into whatever support structures I needed at the hospital and through friends and the community. My hospital notes have many stickers and coloured pieces of paper on them highlighting past trauma and case management plans. My acupuncturist and osteopath became critical people in the support team. As did the antenatal councilor. I attended lactation classes determined to change that outcome as well.

I did all of this knowing that at a point half way through the pregnancy I had been told by a OB that my chances of delivering naturally after a c-section (VBAC) were slim, and that in his opinion I wouldn’t be able to do it. He used statistics rather than personal history to dictate outcomes. While I didn’t agree with him – I was sure if my body could just go into labour naturally it would do it’s stuff – it did ensure I covered the option of it not going naturally as well in my ‘planning’. VBAC does have it’s risks, and a lot of hospitals don’t support it. Luckily mine did. I knew I would have to work extra hard to ensure it happened as well. Hence the acupuncture eviction sessions, the desire to try everything I could before going through something more invasive. While I wasn’t terribly overdue when I posted for help with ARM, I needed to know what I might be in for at a later point if it got to that. And I thank everyone who responded in comments and privately. I got to replying to a number of you, and some of you (Leanne I am forever grateful to you for your words and confidence and support for someone you have never met) gave so much to me I cannot express my gratitude. I hope those I didn’t reply to understand things took off in the meantime….

So to Pia’s story: I had been in pre-labour for just over a week. Things stopped, started, stopped, started. I had a membrane sweep at 1cm dilated which started it all, and followed it up with regular acupuncture over 5 days. The acupuncture strengthened what was going on, but didn’t ever tip it over. I had a show a week before going into labour. I felt I was so close…..on the Friday at lunchtime I had another hospital appointment with a Dr – to check progress, and make any bookings for down the track. I didn’t want intervention, but I also realized that if it was going to come to that, I wanted control and calm surrounding it. I had dilated to 2-3cm. Slowly my body was doing things, and this was heartening. I never started dilating with Max. I kept trying to focus on advice from Cari and Leanne that all of this was good preparation work, all of it was leading me in the right direction. Another membrane sweep was done. I had been having mild widely spaced contractions through the morning, but nothing I hadn’t had in the week previous. I went home, had lunch, grabbed Max and went to meet Kristen at a local playground so the boys could run around. At about 4pm I started feeling more intense contractions, but let them play in the back of my mind and tried to ignore them. By 5.30pm I was thinking I’d rather be home, and Max was tired so we left. Had you registered what was happening Kristen??!! Once home I thought it might be good to time some of these contractions. So sat down, and got a few at 10 minutes apart. Again we had been here before, so I ignored them. However I did think to call Mr 6.5st and tell him to come home earlier rather than later, just in case. I was sure stress had stopped contractions progressing through the week, so when Mr 6.5st did come home I went to lie down and concentrate. 10 minutes, then suddenly 8 minutes. I couldn’t get a stable reading, and was starting to loose faith a little bit. Contractions are regular, right? These were ‘all over the place’. I wasn’t quite prepared for the contractions to be irregular because it was happening fast. By 7.30pm they were 6 minutes apart and I was wondering what I should do. Mainly at what point did I think it might be a good idea to call the hospital…..I rang a friend. She said, Alison, please go and ring the hospital now. I said, No, No, I’ll wait a little bit longer and see what they do. I went back upstairs. The trip upstairs via the bathroom leapt to 4 minutes apart and then 2-3 minutes apart instantly and I thought this might be a nice time to call the hospital. The contractions weren’t strong, and when talking to the midwive, she said to stay at home, I’d know when to come in. I went and packed what I hadn’t packed in my bag already. We got Max asleep, and eventually told Nonna 6.5st I was in labour.

And then it hit. Thwack. Intense contractions rolling over one another, gathering speed and intensity with each new one. I rang the hospital breathless, we rang for a taxi. And then, my mother called. In China for my brother's wedding we had no communication with her or other friends there because of bungled phone information. But at that moment my mother had got anxious about me, and borrowed a phone and called. We were walking out the door. It was 9.35. I was moving further and further into my own little world, concentrating solely on what was coming fast and breathing through it. The taxi took forever. I was shouting at Mr6.5st to forget the taxi, we have to drive NOW. And we only live 2 minutes away. And as I did so a taxi pulled up, and 1.5 minutes later I was attempting to stand up in reception at RPA and wishing the receptionist would hurry the hell up. I clocked in at 9.40pm, and 6cm dilated. That was all the confidence I needed. Asked what pain relief options I wanted to use, I said shower/bath and gas and air. We agreed to use the shower first. I barely made it into the delivery room and into a chair. I was not moving. Gas and Air please. The intensity of contractions was getting hard, fast, raw and painful. But it was all I could do to keep on top of them. After a few goes with gas and air I decided I wasn’t enjoying this and that I would stop it and see what the contractions were really doing. I didn’t like loosing the feeling of the contractions.

The primal noises coming out of me were alien, yet that’s what my body needed to do. I was not there. My eyes were shut, my body just surfed through the torrents of pain and pressure sweeping through it time after time. I had no idea where I was in the process, but the unbearable need to bear down suggested not far. I was ready for that epidural….and my waters broke. In came the midwives, and all I remember them saying as they entered mid primal scream, was ‘we’re having a baby’. Oh. So that’s how far along I was. What happened to the nice transition stage where the contractions stop. Ah. We seemed to have missed that one.

Bed. Hard. Legs stopped working. I believe I nearly knocked one of the midwives over with the force of one leg against her through a contraction. And then I was pushing. And pushing for all it’s worth. And the midwife was fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. Calm, and reassuring, and saying just the right things at just the right times. And then we were going to have a little cut, and I was going to pant. And the head, oh my the head - the head came out and I opened my eyes at last. And Oh My Lord there she came out. Just slithered out. And that was the most amazing thing ever. All I could say and do is stare in amazement and say Oh My Lord over and over in utter, utter amazement and surprise that I Did It.

I dit it. And I did it without drugs. My body worked. I proved people wrong. I did it for all those wanting to go VBAC. I got the perfect birth for me. I worked hard to get it. As one friend said to me through the week, I have never known anyone prepare so thoroughly to get the outcome they wanted. And this time I get to hold my baby, and bond instantly and deeply, and spend time with her in the first few weeks that I never had with Max*. And that in itself is fantastic.

(I’d like to say though that there are other reasons I never bonded straight away with Max, and that those same problems reared their ugly head again this time, but that’s another post, and it’s too raw even now 4 years later to talk about it without a lot of emotion).

Welcome to our lives Pia.

FINALLY

Got my act together and added a photo.

Pia Lola arrived on Friday 13th at 11.05pm.
She arrived after a 3.5 hour labour, weighed 3.8kgs and looks just like her brother.
One of the most intense, primal, amazing things I have ever done - all natural without any drugs or intervention. I can't tell you how proud I am of my body.

A LITTLE PLEA FOR HELP

We have tried: pineapple, hot spicy food, brisk walks, longish walks, squatting, membrane sweep, 5 days of acupuncture, sex (I got desperate. And then desperate again), caulophyllum, pulsatilla, housework, threats of downloading the Nick Lachey album and ramming the ipod up her bottom and turning the volume up HIGH, crying, hitting the belly with a plastic hammer (Max's idea - it was done gently), stress, anxiety, chocolate, more chocolate, walking up and down stairs, finishing some of Petite's clothes, more threats, a good talking to from her father, explaining the jesus birth mat would not be coming with us. And NONE of them work. Things started happening, and then now they have well and trully stopped.

And now I am resigned to a far more medicalised birth than I had hoped for unless a miracle happens soon. And here comes my plea: if there is anyone who reads the blog who has had their waters broken (ARM) to bring on labour and are willing to answer some questions I have, could you please email me privately at sixandahalfstitchesATgmailDOTcom. I'm hoping like hell it doesn't get to that point, but I am running out of time*, and I want to be mentally ahead of it all.

* TIME is a weird thing when you're pregnant and overdue - it's a black hole kind of concept where every hour drags, and with each new day you are closer, yet further away. And then there is Hospital Time which starts dictating options and alternatives and time frames, of which I have not a great deal to choose from given my previous birth experience.

Petite? Are you in there? You going to come out and play?

RE: RECENT CORRESPONDENCE

October 6th 2006

Dear Mummy, (herein referred to as The Owner)

I am writing to inform you that I will not be able to vacate the property located within the middle section of Your Body as noted in our contract dated January 1st 2006. Under the aforementioned contract, it was anticipated that the lease period would end on October 7th 2006. For various personal reasons I have not been able to achieve that date for vacating. Under Section 3 of the Tenants Rights Act, I wish to invoke Clause 5.1 which allows the tenant an additional 14 days tenancy with no ramifications or penalties due.

In accordance with the original lease, the premises will be left in good condition. I reserve the right to take with me various fixtures - namely the kitchen (herein referred to as The Placenta) and associated plumbing installed at my expense. All walls will be made good. In return I leave the premises clean and all floors will be steam cleaned prior to departure. I leave also any renovation works carried out by myself , including any additional rooms (inclusive of deck and jacuzzi).

Yours faithfully,

October 7th 2006

Dear Petite 6.5st, (herein referred to as The Squatter)

We acknowledge receipt of your correspondence dated 6th October 2006 and wish to inform you of the Owners intention to take the property by force if necessary, and that due to previous experience will refute your claim to Squatters Rights for a period of 14 days. You will have received prior notification from a third party (herein referred to as The Acupuncturist) that eviction proceedings were begun on October 6th 2006 in a small room off King Street. The Owner wishes to inform you that these current proceedings will continue for a period of 4 days. If you still remain within the property after that date, additional force will be used at a date to be determined, but no later than October 17th 2006. A meeting to determine additional action took place on October 4th 2006 with a follow up meeting to take place October 11th 2006, wherein notification will be sent to you of those plans and any critical dates for you to note.

We once again stress that it is in all parties best interests for you to vacate the premises at your earliest. The Owner has provided numerous incentives, copies of which are noted in Appendices i, ii, and iii, and believes your stay has been comfortable and enjoyable, but that it is time for you to move on.

Yours Faithfully,