Things to Do with a Placenta

1. Eat it. Humans are the only mammals who don’t commonly eat the nutrient-rich placenta, although it is consumed in many cultures around the world, including our own. Some choose to make a placenta lasagna or roast while others ingest it by making capsules.

2. Bury it. In some traditions, the placenta is highly regarded and specific rituals are involved in storing or burying it. It was, after all, the thing that helped grow a baby, so should be handled with some respect. Some people choose to plant it underneath a tree when the baby is born.

3. Make art. I heard of one couple who affixed googley eyes to it, giving it a comic life of its own. We chose to make two prints by laying the placenta down on sheets of thick paper. The blood served as ink and the result is a jellyfish-like “Tree of Life.”

Isla’s Placenta No. 1

Isla’s Placenta No. 2

Why a Home Birth?

Many have questioned our decision to have Isla birthed at home. Once we educated ourselves on the different ways and locations to have a baby, the choice was obvious for us. One major tool aiding in our decision was seeing the film The Business of Being Born. If anyone would like to learn more about home births and midwifery, I would suggest starting by watching this movie as well as reading and talking to others about their experiences. Some factors to consider:

1. Pregnancy is not an illness. You go to the hospital when you’re sick. Bringing a new life into the world is not a disease, it is a natural, normal occurrence.

2. Less interventions at home. The rate of cesarean sections in the US is over 30%. While some of these, definitely, are warranted and necessary, the vast majority are not.

3. Natural hormones. The rate of epidurals in the US is somewhere between 75-90%. While the idea of lessening the pain during labor through the use of drugs may sound like a good idea, the cons may outweigh the advantages. Pitocin is often used to induce labor when the mother isn’t progressing fast enough (usually at the hospital’s disgression). This hormone has the same chemical makeup as oxytocin, the natural hormone produced in the body to cause contractions. However, pitocin must be injected, while oxytocin comes from the brain. When pitocin is administered, the laboring woman’s natural supply of oxytocin is shut off, thus she does not get the full effect of the natural “high” that this “love hormone” produces. Women who receive pitocin and epidurals miss out on the chemicals that are naturally produced to help labor and prolong bonding once the baby is born.

4. Comfortable, familiar people and location. Many women who choose to birth at a hospital will not know the doctors and nurses who happen to be on staff at the time of delivery. It can be inhibiting to labor in a hospital setting, to feel comfortable enough to be naked in front of strangers and get into the necessary positions that make labor the most productive. Women who birth at home tend to have shorter labors and often feel more empowered in the process.

5. Thorough prenatal and postpartum education and support. Midwives spend around one hour or more per appointment going over all the many choices, tools, resources, and feelings associated with pregnancy and caring for a newborn. Doctors usually do not have the time to devote this much care per individual.

These are just a few of the reasons we chose to have a home birth. Ours was an enriching, empowering experience that we will never regret!

Isla’s souvenir home birth certificate, complete with tiny footprints.

Labor Day

I woke up at around 5:30 AM with a funny feeling in my belly. It wasn’t exactly pain, but it was alarming and growing stronger by the minute. By 6:30 I felt a subtle “pop” inside and rolled out of bed and into our office. I pulled out the sheet on “When to Call Your Midwife.” I didn’t want to call too early, nor did I want to wake Mason up unnecessarily, but the feeling was getting more intense. Soon I began getting on all fours and rhythmically moving back and forth. After this happened a few more times, I gently woke Mason up and said, “I think it’s starting,” which was quite surprising to him. I told him to stay with me while I called Nancy just in case I had to pass him the phone. I told her that I wasn’t sure I was in labor or not because I thought contractions would feel different and that I’d be able to see my whole belly move. But they were happening regularly, and she said I was probably in early labor and to call her when they were “3-1-1” (three minutes apart, one minute long, and for at least one hour).

I went into the living room and although I wasn’t hungry, I scooped out some plain yogurt to eat, figuring I needed some sustenance. But then another surge hit and I kneeled down, throwing my arms and head on the couch where I continued my rhythmic moving back and forth. Mason came to join me soon after and began timing the contractions. I was oblivious of time, but they seemed to be coming quite regularly. Mason rubbed my back during each surge while I closed my eyes and focused on my breath.

Before too long, I looked over and Nancy and Michelle had arrived. I acknowledged them, but didn’t say anything since I was so in the “zone.” Everyone began getting the water for the tub ready. Luckily we had already assembled and filled it up, but it needed to be warmer. I heard pots shuffling and water boiling but I stayed in my own world. Finally they said I could transition, though moving away from my spot at the couch was a bit challenging. Once I entered the tub it felt great to be so buoyant and put my legs into a new position. The water didn’t feel that cold to me, but they said it had to be a certain temperature for the baby. So they kept adding warm water while I labored in the tub with Mason near me.

I hung my arms over the edge while kneeling in a frog position. They checked me and I was 5cm dilated, so I was progressing rather quickly. I was worried that Gecko hadn’t been taken out or fed, but they assured me that he had already been attended to. With this off my mind, I continued to close my eyes and stay in the moment.

A few weeks prior, I had been diagnosed with GB strep. This is a common condition that appears in about 30% of women and is harmless to adults, but if passed on to the baby, could, in rare cases, cause illness or even death. The standard treatment is to administer an IV of penicillin in the laboring mother for ten minutes at a time, every four hours. Nancy approached me and said she forgot to bring the antibiotics with her. Since the Bay to Breakers run was going on (an annual footrace which encompasses San Francisco) and traffic was thought to be a bear, she gave me the option to go get the meds at her home, which could take 1 ½ hours, or do without the antibiotics (which I had been toying with anyway, since there are controversies with taking them). We decided she should go get them, despite my fast progression and the busy city. Time passed, but she seemed to arrive back a few moments later. In between surges, they attached an IV heplock to my right hand while I held as still as possible. I was aware of it there and that I couldn’t put that hand in the water, but other than that, it wasn’t much of a nuisance.

The surges came regularly and I rolled with the punches. I kept waiting for the blissful break in between each one that I’d heard others describe, but although the pain subsided, it didn’t completely stop. It was hard to change positions, because once one started, the only place that felt good was hanging over the edge of the tub. Mason kept encouraging me saying things like, “You’re doing great,” and “That was a good one.” He continued to massage my back, squeeze my hips, and press on my sacrum. He kept me hydrated by offering me beverages with a straw. In my monosymbolic haze, all drinks were called “water,” whether they were actually H2O, coconut water, Recharge, or Gatorade. I was surprised, sometimes, when the liquid tasted different than I was expecting, but none of it mattered. Drinking was good. The thought of eating could not be entertained, but I did manage to get a few bites of watermelon in me.

Usually San Francisco is cool and windy, but we’d chosen the hottest day of the year in which to labor. The fan was brought out and Mason offered me the occasional cool cloth, which I draped on my face and neck. A couple of times, I felt something watery leave me, and I think it must have been some of the amniotic fluid. They asked if I had peed recently, but I hadn’t. I tried (since urine is sterile, I was allowed to go in the tub), but nothing came out.

When a surge first started, it was the hardest, but then I would settle into it as it increased in intensity, breathing through my mouth in various hissing tones or hums. If I started with an “ow,” I’d change it to an “om.” If my voice was high pitched, Nancy would tell me to try and lower it, to use a more guttural sound to focus downward where the baby was shifting lower. Some were more intense than others, but when a big one hit, it was somewhat of a relief in knowing that progress was being made, I was that much closer to bringing Isla into the world.

At one point, I had an uncomfortable feeling in my chest, like really horrible heartburn, but not quite. I said, “I think I’m going to throw up,” and then turned my head away from Mason and vomited into the ice bowl. Another bowl was brought to me and I continued vomiting several times. I felt a little better afterwards, but the contractions kept coming and I went with them.

I was oblivious to time, but knew it was passing since the sun changed positions through the window. I was vaguely aware of Nancy and Michelle sitting on our chair and couch reading or speaking softly to each other. Gecko came by after being confined in the office and I said, “Muzzlechops” as he passed me. Someone was taking him out and feeding him, so it must’ve been early evening.

At some point, Nancy said I was probably dehydrated. She had a calm, yet serious tone to her voice and I dreaded what she might say next. Would I have to transfer to the hospital? The thought of moving out of my position in the tub was hard enough, but all the way out the door, into a car, and to another building seemed near impossible. But no, this was never her intention. She only suggested that they give me an IV to hydrate me. They would use the heplock already in place and attach the bag to our tall halogen lamp. I nodded and it was done with ease.

Finally it was night and they said I’d been in the tub for nine hours and they suggested I get out and try a new position. Mason helped me stand up, which was a mammoth accomplishment. It was suddenly cold and they turned the fan off and dried me and walked me over to the bathroom where I sat on the toilet. Still, I could produce no pee. I was 9cm dilated and Michelle said the baby would be here soon. I shook my head, not believing her. She smiled and said, yes, you are close. One of them put their fingers in me and told me to push down on them during each contraction. I stared into Nancy’s eyes and she said, “Yes, like that.” Finding her eyes helped immensely.

I pushed a few more times and then Michelle suggested that I move onto the bed, lest our baby be born on the throne. So I walked there with a lot of support and got on all fours on top of the bed where I pushed a few more times. I pushed on my side and on my back. I tried a supported squat position on the floor with Mason behind me on the bed, but my legs soon tired. I went back to the bed where Nancy said that she was concerned that I hadn’t been able to pee this whole time. Again, her voice was calm, but I dreaded she would say I had to transfer to the hospital. Luckily she had an easy remedy of giving me a catheter to drain me. She did this with little effort and although I didn’t feel anything, we hoped that this would make more room for the baby to be pushed out.

And push I did. With each push, Nancy would say, “That was a really good one! You made a lot of progress.” And Mason would say, “She’s almost here! I can see our baby!” And I thought, that’s what you said two hours ago! But I kept pushing. I lay on my back against Mason and was told to grab my ankles and pull them toward me, lifting my pelvis upward. It was not comfortable, but I seemed to be making the most progress this way. At one point, I thought about letting a contraction pass without pushing, just to take a break. What would happen if I never pushed again? Would the baby finally come out on its own? But I wouldn’t put this theory to the test, because I wanted it over and done with.

I pushed with all my might and they kept saying she was so close. They had me feel between my legs and the little circle of her head seemed ever so small and I thought, what are they talking about, she still has so far to go, this is going to take forever! At this point, the exhaustion was more encompassing than the pain and I just wanted to cry out of sheer fatigue.

Finally I could feel her head moving, millimeter by millimeter, and then it got bigger and Nancy said, “I know it’s a lot of pressure, don’t be afraid. You’re so strong.” I don’t know the instant when it went from crowning to the baby coming out completely. All I know is I was pushing one moment and the next they said, “Put your hands down and catch your baby!” A warm, wet body was placed on my chest and I said, “Oh my god, oh my god!” over and over, crying, and she was crying, this new person who’d entered the room, and Mason cried behind me, and she squirmed in my arms with warm towels placed on top of her and I couldn’t believe it, she was finally here! Our little girl!

Check out her massive, molded conehead as the result of all my pushing (which has since diminished).

We stayed that way for quite awhile, partly out of bliss, partly out of my body’s inability to move. She was then transitioned to daddy Mason’s arms while I birthed the placenta. It took a little prodding, but finally came out.

Later, Mason cut the umbilical cord and she was placed on his bare chest where she lay skin-on-skin as he “shhhed” her to perfection.

They examined me and I was very swollen and they thought it best to give me a few small stitches. That was not a comfortable experience. They asked if I wanted to take a nice shower, but I didn’t. I was almost back to being in a monosymbolic zone. Every fiber of my being ached and I wondered how women could do this more than once. How did people have brothers and sisters? I didn’t see any hope for Isla having siblings. It was rough. But I am forever indebted to Mason, who was at my side throughout the day and of tremendous help. And I can’t imagine doing it without the aid of our midwives, Nancy and Michelle, who have given us so much in terms of education and support. Having a home birth was the best option for us and we wouldn’ve have wanted it any other way. I am so grateful we were able to make it happen.

We stayed up until 5 AM watching “baby TV,” as Michelle called it, marveling at our little one snuggled next to us in bed. After sleeping for a little while, Mason brought me breakfast and I called my mom to tell her the good news. Michelle visited us later that day to make sure nursing and everything else was going okay. I must’ve still been high on oxytocin, because I wasn’t that tired or hungry and in the dark I had semi-hallucinations of figures dancing. Already, the memory of the pain was diminishing and I could then see where people might be able to have more than one child. But by the next day, I was completely drained, feeling even sorer than ever, and just wanted to go into hibernation.

Luckily, our good friends Camila and Andrew brought us food and beverages and later that week new Gramma Karin flew up from San Diego to serve as our personal doula. She cleaned, did laundry, cooked us meals, and held Isla when we needed a nap or a break. Later, Grampa Mel drove up to see the little one and they left together the next week.

A big thank you to everyone who has wished us well. We are so fortunate to have such loving, generous family and friends in our lives. Isla continues to grow and be surrounded by love and affection. Stay tuned for more updates and photos!

Pre-Labor BBQ

On this unusually warm San Francisco day, I visited UCSF for yet another fetal monitoring session. I was a bit cranky about it because it was such a nice Saturday and I wanted to enjoy the outdoors, not be stuck in a tiny shared room where I had to wait longer than usual. Nothing much had changed. The baby’s heart rate and movements were still normal, but the fluid was registering low. I was to come back on Monday for more testing. All these appointments are hardly the way I envisioned relaxing before the Big Day, but better to error on the side of caution, I suppose.

Yesterday I had my first ever acupuncture appointment. She stimulated my feet and hands with fine needles and hooked them up to a low electric current. It was unlikely that one session would be enough to induce labor, especially since I hadn’t reached my due date, so we set up another appointment.

Another tool to get the labor juices flowing is stripping the cervical membrane, which I’ve had done twice (not a very pleasant experience, but I’m sure nothing near what labor will be like). The ultimate home remedy for labor induction is castor oil. Apparently, once taken, contractions usually start within 24 hours. I may consider this route if it means avoiding a hospital intervention, but the idea of having the runs while in labor doesn’t sound too pretty.

Last night, while sitting alone in a comfy chair, I read Isla two Peter Rabbit books. I told her that we were so looking forward to meeting her and that when she decided to come out, I could read her more books. We were ready for her arrival and would love her to join us as soon as she was able.

After my appointment at the hospital today, Mason and I went over to our friends Camila and Andrew’s home for a BBQ–a rarity in SF. We dined on dogs and sipped cold bevmos in the shade while watching their son Cassius play.

Uncle Mason practicing fatherhood with Cassius and his new drum set.

Little did I know that I would be starting labor about 12 hours after this photo was taken.

Living Room Pool Party

Today we set up the birth tub we plan to use for labor. We’ll see if Isla wants to enter the world in the water or on land!

Gecko is puzzled about it all.

Frothy Cup o’ Love

Today my friend Camila (who is in her first trimester with her second child) and I went to get pedicures at our favorite spot in the Inner Sunset. We figured it was a good preggo activity and possibly the last chance I’d have before giving birth. We ordered decaf coffees and my cappuccino came with possibly the most perfect heart I’d ever seen. Usually the baristas try for the heart or a leaf but end up with a smeared milky dollop. I couldn’t help but be reminded of the little Valentine growing inside me, wondering when she would choose to enter the world.

Over the past couple weeks, I’ve been seen at UCSF for fetal monitoring. They strap a belt around my belly and listen to Isla’s heart rate and measure her movements. So far, everything is looking okay, but they are a little concerned about the low level of amniotic fluid. Everyone seems to be saying that it would be good if I could go into labor sooner rather than later. I said, well, I’ll try, but ultimately it’s up to her!

At the nail salon, a woman asked when I was due. I said “any day now” since I’m convinved she won’t come on the 23rd and with any luck, might very well come early. We got to chatting and it turns out she had a home birth with Nancy Myrick too! Her first two children were born in hospitals, but for her third she opted for the home and couldn’t express enough how much better the experience had been. I didn’t need any convincing about Nancy’s expert care, but it was still nice to hear. She also said that she had gotten a pedicure late in her pregnancy and the next day she gave birth. Guess we’ll see if it works for me!

6th Belly Shot

Bending over has become increasingly difficult! In our world of schedules and time management, it’s strange to think that my body, and the one I’m carrying inside me, has a time line of her own–and she’s not telling. Only 5% of babes are born on their actual due date. Really, it should be called a “due month” since anywhere between two weeks before and two weeks after the due date is considered normal. Isla could come any time now through June 6–though I hope she doesn’t wait THAT long! Any guesses as to her arrival date and time?

Happy Baby Day

This “Princess Cake” was presented to me during the final hour of my last day at work before going on maternity leave. It’s hard to believe that this could give any chocolate/coffee combo a run for its money, but indeed, the moist white cake with raspberry and custard layers were divine. Yumbo!

5th Belly Shot

I think Isla had a growth spurt today! She was moving around a lot, doing somersaults and back flips. Sometimes she makes it hard to breathe, but other times it’s comforting feeling her little feet and back pushing around.

The Crib

The father-to-be assembling the new crib.

A tight squeeze, but it fits nicely.

Complete with her own “Goodnight Moon” bunny and mini Snuffles polar bear!