Well, I have tried to write Keats's birth story several times, but each time I start, I get this sick feeling and get sad because nothing in his birth went as I would plan. Even now, after months of really working on my spirit in this matter, I still have to fight those feelings. I think I have come to the realization that he is my last child and this was my last time to try and have the birth I have longed to have since Arie, but I know now I will never have that experience. That is a hard realization. Definitely not what I was wishing or hoping for as we practiced our birthing positions each day from our doula handbook or as I read diligently from Dr. Sears and The Bradley Method books....... It has been a hard, slow process but I am finally at peace (for the most part) with my situation.
I TRULY have nothing against medicated births. Nor am I a midwife fanatic (I actually had a very unpleasant experience with the midwives for Idina's birth and LOVED my OB for Arie and Keats's births and felt much more empowered and taken care of by her). I do not think there is a "right" way to give birth or a "stronger" way to give birth. Whether you push them out non-medicated in the bathtub at home or you have an emergency c-section at 36 weeks, the end result is the same: you nurtured and supported the most perfect being on the planet. And for those first time mama's out there who wonder if they will ever love their next the same as they do their first, this statement is true for all your future children too-no worries there!! All that being said, I haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaated being pregnant mostly because I haaaaaaaaaaaaate not being in control. And that includes the birthing process. I had daydreamed of just going in to labor at home and having him come so quickly (no complications involved of course) that Noah and I got to deliver him at home alone. I had daydreamed of being induced (when an induction looked inevitable) and making it through the extreme contractions of pitocin with my water broke and having him without any pain medications still. This was not the plan for Keats and I-even now-whole heartedly dislike not being consulted on that plan!!
Keats's whole pregnancy was a train wreck. From the first few weeks (where my placenta would not attach fully to the uterine wall-which we know now is as a result of a prolapsed uterus-and so I bled for almost 8 weeks straight and intermittently throughout the remainder of the pregnancy. We also know now that I got pregnant with Keats as well as a result of this same problem to begin with when the IUD grew into my uterine wall and I had to get it removed thus resulting in a miscarriage and then Keats......those tricky prolapses......) to the end when they decided to admit and induce me (when I entered the hospital with numb hands, feet and face muscles and eventually went partially blind from what they "believe"-i.e. they have no idea-was either a result of Keats laying on my spinal column incorrectly or a result of my hemoglobin levels dropping well below normal for a healthy adult, let alone a pregnant one). Everything was out of my control, as have been a number of circumstances since then (my student teaching experience and the house situation just to name a few.....).
I have realized that......perhaps......I was meant to be taught a lesson in the fine art of letting go...... And I am grateful for the lessons Keats has already begun to teach me now that I have learned to
let go of his birthing experience.
It just doesn't matter any more. When I tell Keats the story of his birth, I will not include a statement of pride that I birthed him without medication. However, I will tell him how we laughed between contractions at the excitement of his arrival as I got my blood transfusions early that morning before the induction began. I will tell him how I remember his father speaking soft words of encouragement to me and quietly reading me poetry from his namesake as I lay on my side during a contraction and the hands of both friends and family, woman I love and trust, on my back, arms, legs, and feet. I will tell him how I felt the moment he turned out of my hip and off my back and the joy I felt in not only knowing that the pain was almost gone, but that
he was almost here. I will tell him how not only was his Auntie Sarah in the room to support me during the labor, but so was his cousin Ryvers, who was only 15 days old. I will tell how his Auntie Ashley ran back and forth from her work across the street as often as she could to check on his progress. I will tell him how his Tia Kara watched on the computer as he was working his way out even though the lights were too dim in the room to see and the sound was turned off for me to have silence. I will remind him how his grandparents were all there-some in spirit and some in person-and teach him how blessed he was for the advancement of technology that could keep his Nana and his GiGi updated every moment over the phone and on the web. I will make sure he knows that he spoke with his Nana, and both of his aunts in other states within a few hours of his arrival and how they all thought he looked just like his Papa. I will laugh as I tell him he almost bonded my relationship with Asa in an extreme way as I tried to allow Asa in the room for his birth. I will smile when I remember feeling the weight of his new body in my arms and more than likely (as I am now) cry as I tell him how his sweet, attentive, gentle nature was evident even at that first meeting. I will tell him how he felt soooooo heavy and talked so softly, so different from his sisters. I will joke, as the nurses did, that he would have been 9 pounds even at two weeks early if he hadn't peed all over the doctor the moment he escaped my body!! I will remind him of his Auntie Amanda coming late that night to meet her birthday buddy after she had spent hours cleaning our unprepared home for his arrival. I will tease his father and remind them both of their first "manly" conversation when Noah pulled Keats up close to his face that night, after everyone else had left, and told him that no matter what his Uncle Asa or anyone else had to say about it-that Batman would always beat Superman in a fight. I will tell him of his first meeting with his sisters and how Arie barked at him like a dog, uncertain how to interact with him, from the foot of the bed while Idina crawled up and quickly began to hug and "sing" to him. I will tell him that although he wasn't planned and that nothing went as I had hoped, imagined or even worst-case-scenario'd, that his arrival-in a moment-made our family complete and made me whole.
And Keats will hear all of these things. And he will know, that from the first-he was loved. And now I know that none of the rest of it matters.
Keats Asa Glass arrived August 25, 2010, two weeks ahead of schedule and completely out of sync with "the plan", weighing 8 pounds 15 ounces and 22 inches long. He is my man and I do love him so.
