Thoughts on maternal identity

Before I had my son, I’d heard people with children talk about how having kids is the best experience of their life, and about how it changed them as people, and I’d react skeptically. Honestly, I thought it was a line–it was strange, I admitted, that everyone said the same thing, but still, I couldn’t believe at all how it could be true.

Well, I was wrong, and yes, they were right.

But given that parenthood does change everything, and–no offense to the wonderful fathers out there, my father and my husband in particular–I have to believe that motherhood, especially, changes more than everything. It’s like that C.S. Lewis quote (“I believe in Christianity as I believe that the Sun has risen not only because I see it but because by it I see everything else.”): motherhood not only changes our life itself, but also our experience of life–the world–around us.

Of course, there are tons of novels, poems, stories, and memoirs written on this subject (Adrienne Rich’s Of Woman Born: Motherhood as Experience and Institution springs to mind as a fabulous, moving book). It’s just the nature of the subject, though, that it’s hard to stop wondering over and thinking about.

Recently I’ve been noticing how hard it is, really, to remember life before my son was born (he’s fifteen months now, for the record, so it’s not like I’m trying to remember that far back, really). A friend was saying something about her car, which she hardly ever drives, and I suddenly remembered a great time about four years ago when she and I took a drive in it out into the suburbs and had a laughter-filled fall day. Then I got confused, thinking about the memory. Where was Marcus (my son)? Was he with us? Nothing made sense. Logically, I was able to convince myself that he wasn’t there because he–obviously–wasn’t even born yet, but I still had a nagging feeling that something about the memory wasn’t quite right.

Does this happen to other mothers? I feel like I’m so connected to my son that I sometimes don’t know where I stop and he begins. I know that this works for me physically: if he’s sitting on my lap, eating, and we get messy, I lick a sauce-y finger–mine or his, I don’t really notice the difference. Apparently it also works on the abstract level of identity and memory, though, too.

–Christina

An OB muses on medically managed labor. . .

I just came across this (old, but intermittent) blog by an OB with a page of very interesting musings on “protracted” labor and what it means when a mother falls off Friedman’s labor curve. At the moment, there’s only one comment, but it mentions midwifery as a possible solution to the problem. In any case, here, at least, the blog offers some thoughtful wonderings, definitely moving in the right direction, and it also provides a contrast to the Other OB Blog–I don’t even want to give everyone’s unfavorite OB the glory of another Google hit, so I’d rather not mention her or link to her, sorry.

–Christina

Quick links: Lynsee, birth centers, home birth, birth parties in the news

This has been a busy week for news in the birth world. The big news, of course, is the live streamed birth (midwife-attended, but very medically-minded midwives, apparently) of Lynsee in Minnesota. Jill at Unnecesarean.com has two good pieces on Lynsee’s birth, and you can of course watch the footage yourself.

Then, there’s this NYTimes article about the sad closing of an in-hospital, midwife-staffed birth center at Bellevue available to patients without insurance. It’s a good article on a sad subject.

There’s also this piece from the LA Times: “The right place to deliver: home or hospital? It’s a heated argument, and neither side has conclusive evidence. So how to decide?” It starts off well enough, and it seems to give attention to midwives and recent studies and their conclusions on the safety of home birth, but then, frustratingly, the article ends this way: “At the end of the day, convincing evidence to support either the obstetricians or the midwives simply isn’t there. Doctors believe that the burden of proof rests on those advocating delivery outside of the hospital; midwives put physicians on the defensive by pointing out that childbirth is a natural process that historically hasn’t required hospitalization. Until the question of home birth safety is answered, women can’t make truly informed decisions about their childbirth experiences.”

Finally there’s this CBSTV piece on “birth parties,” apparently a cool mom trend inspired by celebrities. Because, yeah, we all had home births just to be cool and be like Cindy Crawford. Sigh. It’s not an absolutely terrible article, though, and I guess it’s the best of the bunch, this week.

–Christina

More Joss Whedon (tangentially)–Alyson Hannigan’s home birth

Just saw this video over on MyBestBirth.com–it’s Alyson Hannigan (Willow) and hubbie (Wesley) talking about their home birth. 

–Christina

Family and “help” after a birth

So, this afternoon I’m off to visit a colleague from school who is home with her four-week-old baby. I think I’ve got all my bases covered: I’m bringing soup and a roast chicken with me, I made sure my baby doesn’t have the sniffles, I plan on washing my hands before asking to touch her baby, and I don’t plan on staying long. But I’ve been thinking a lot about my friend lately, and it’s been making me wonder more about the nature of family visits to “help” after a birth.

In her case, my friend had a long labor that ended with a vacuum extraction and a very tough recovery period for her. Never fear, though, right? “Help” arrived in the form of her mother, mother-in-law, and aunt-in-law, all staying with her in overlapping intervals for the first three weeks post-partum. By, oh, perhaps day three of this, I think my friend wanted to tie all three family visitors together and suspend them out the window.

She got lots of “Is the baby eating again?” comments, which also really bugged me when I got them in the beginning too, and lots of “Well, I never nursed my children, and they turned out fine” comments as well. Even when she retreated into her bedroom to nurse the baby on her bed and rest a little, apparently her mother-in-law would follow her, sit on the edge of the bed, and just talk randomly about her friends and neighbors back home–who, by the way, my friend doesn’t even know. My friend did get a lot of home-cooked meals (fresh and now in her freezer), housework, and chores out of the deal, but I don’t think she feels like she came out ahead.

She’s okay now, though–the last of the family has been gone for a week, and she’s starting to feel much better physically as well as emotionally–but I wondered if anyone has any advice for someone in a similar situation in the future. 

–Christina

Book review/book club: The Wet Nurse’s Tale

Earlier this month Tanya over at Motherwear asked who would be interested in reading The Wet Nurse’s Tale  (by Erica Eisdorfer, Putnam 2009) with her as a sort of mini online bookclub. Well, it was fortuitious timing, because my copy had just arrived via the BPL reserves system.

Last week while my husband was on a business trip I had a bit more time to read than I normally do, and I immediately found myself absorbed in a great historical novel that–in style and feel, if not in content–resembles As Meat Loves Salt and Fingersmith. The great birth, breatfeeding, and mother-related themes just put it over the top, of course!

So I read about the adventures of the wet nurse Susan Rose and her baby, and though readers spend most of the book rooting for Susan and hoping she gets a happy ending with her own child, it’s not much of a spoiler to say that yes, things do work out well for them.

Meanwhile the novel covers the oral traditions, superstitions, and community involvement (learning to nurse by watching your mother do it) related to breastfeeding, as well as engorgement, mastitis, hand-expression, cluster-nursing, tandem nursing, co-sleeping, and an understanding of the supply and demand principles of breastfeeding. Susan’s first-person narrative is broken up by small inter-chapter segments in the voices of women who put their babies out to nurse, and these segments generally discuss the women’s birth experiences. This device lets the novel also cover midwifery, breech births, different positions during labor, and early skin-to-skin contact. 

It’s a great read–I don’t know when Tanya’s book group will get off the ground, but I highly recommend you grab a copy of the novel now for some engrossing pleasure reading.

–Christina

Improving the outcome for birthing moms

NPR has run a few stories via the BBC news hour about the incredible death rate of African moms during childbirth. Faced with a lack of care, these moms-to-be—particularly in Ethiopia, but also throughout the continent—frequently give birth alone and receive no prenatal or post partum care. One woman dies every minute worldwide, almost all of the deaths are preventable.

It’s been interesting listening to some of the issues being faced in Africa, in comparison to our own system. There, according to the report, malnutrition leads to weak, small moms struggling to birth large babies, apparently laboring for days sometimes and frequently dealing with untreated tearing. Most of the deaths there are the result of haemorrhage (source: Unicef). Here, and in countries with similar healthcare systems, the deaths are far lower and stem from c-sections or reaction to anaesthesia.

At first I found it kind of ironic listening to how much Ethiopian women would benefit from access to c-sections while our death rate here is often blamed on the over use of the surgery. After reading this article, I’m struck by some consistent themes:

Access to adequate care: More midwife-attended births would prevent a lot of unnecessary intervention here and provide much needed aid there.

Nutrition/poor health of the mom: There it’s malnutrition bordering on starvation. Here it’s obesity. In either case the outcome isn’t great for mom or baby.

The real puzzle Even in this country, African women are more likely to die during childbirth than Caucasian women, regardless of wealth or education.

It seems far too easy to fix these issues and yet nothing seems to be changing. Maybe the change needs to start from the top. One thing clear from the NPR report anyway, there have been multiple summits and lots of conversation but sadly, very little action.

-Christine

What I wish I’d known back then about breastfeeding

WELCOME, October Carnival of Breastfeeding readers! Please follow the links at the bottom of this post to the other great contributors this month!

My baby is fourteen months old and nursing 3-4 times a night and about that much during the day (more if we’re home together all day). When I think back to the day he was born and his very first attempts to latch on, it seems incredible that it was so long ago. What do I wish I’d known back then? Well. . .

• that even though it would seem that my two-week-old, happy-spitter baby spat up his entire feed, everyone who says “it’s only spit-up, it’s only a small amount, don’t worry about it” really is right.
   
• that breastmilk can apparently fix any problem there is: baby has a stuffy nose? use breastmilk in the nostril; baby is cranky, has an upset stomach, or took a stumble? breastfeeding to the rescue; baby has gunky eyes? place a drop of breastmilk in the corner. Sometimes I bet a careful application of breastmilk can fix the ozone layer!
   
• that breastfeeding can be silly: my mobile baby would cruise over to me as I lay on the couch and then nurse standing up, almost like drinking from a water fountain; my boy now will in the morning one minute be playing on the foot of the bed with a stuffed animal and then bounding up to me, lowering himself onto my nipple, and latching on with a silly grin and a side-long look. 
   
• that I’d love it.

–Christina

READ WHAT THESE GREAT BLOGGERS HAVE TO SAY ON THE SUBJECT. . . 

• Whozat & Shrike
• Starr Family Blog
• Momma’s Angel
• Breastfeeding Moms Unite
• Birth Activist
• Three Girl Pile Up
• Happy Bambino
• Eden Wild
• Hobo Mama
• The Milk Mama
• Fancy Pancakes
• Breastfeeding Mums
• Fighting Off Frumpy
• Cave Mother
• Breastfeeding 1-2-3
• Blacktating
• Mum Unplugged

Mama mammals of the world, unite!

I can’t be the only mama who gets all misty-eyed at the sight of other mammal mamas giving birth, cuddling their babies, co-sleeping, or breastfeeding–right? Well, whether I’m alone in this new obsession of mine or not, I had two great animal-mama experiences this summer that I’m just getting a chance to look back on now.

First was the sight of a mama and baby gorilla in the National Zoo in Washington, DC, in July. The gorilla enclosure was jammed with kids, daycamps, and families, all trying to catch a glimpse of the baby, but at first no one saw her. The mama gorilla was on a hammock, sort of above most people’s view, and eventually she climbed off the hammock, walked around the area, and sat down in the back under a tree near the silverback. That was when people started to realize that the baby gorilla was on the mother–clinging to her chest the whole time, from when she was napping in the hammock to when she was walking around. Sitting near the silverback, the mother calmly started nursing, and the crowd went wild–seriously, cries of “Ooh, she’s feeding it! Ooh, how cute!” erupted from kids and adults alike. The gorilla seemed to tolerate all this attention, and then walked back to her hammock, climbed up into it, and disappeared from sight again–all with her baby on her chest. I was holding my baby on my chest in a mei tai, talking to him the whole time, and I seriously felt just like that mama gorilla–except people don’t normally exclaim happily when I start nursing in public (ah, the irony). Oh, and my boy didn’t nurse in the gorilla enclosure in happy nurse-in sympathy, but only because he had just nursed on the floor of the panda enclosure and was pretty content to watch the animals now.

My second great experience was at the Miracle of Birth center at the Minnesota State Fair in August. Wow, this place was packed, again with kids and teens and families, all going nuts over the farm animals who had either just given birth or were literally in the process of doing so. There was a calf who was born just an hour before we arrived, and a bunch of piglets born the day before, and there were all these pregnant sheep and goats wandering around just like warm, beautiful pregnant women. Again I was holding my baby in a mei tai (I think he was on my back here) and talking to him about all the mamas and babies. A few hours later, sitting outside on a lawn relaxing with our friends and cousins who we’d come to the Fair with, I heard two cousins say they had just gone back into the Miracle of Birth barn because they’d missed it before. 

“How was it?” someone asked.

“It was good–we saw a cow deliver her placenta,” one of my cousins said nonchalantly.

“A COW PLACENTA?” I sat up and screamed. “NO WAY!” Yes, I got laughed at by my friends, but I spent the rest of the afternoon lamenting that I hadn’t gone back into the barn and caught that moment. 

Anyway, here are just a couple animal-related links for your pleasure–a brief post on a babywearing blog with another link to an article about animals “wearing” their babies, and a BoingBoing post from a couple weeks ago with a video of an amazing elephant birth. 

So come on, ‘fess up–have your birth experiences made you more in touch with the animal kingdom?

–Christina

Michael Odent and men at births

Recent news is all about Michael Odent’s–not at all new–view that natural birth happens faster and easier when the mother is truly relaxed, ideally (he believes) alone except for a midwife. Of course, the media takes this, dumbs it down, and runs with it as “Bar Men from Birth?” etc.

Apparently now there’s actually going to be a debate between Odent and a dad-blogger named Duncan Fisher, moderated by a midwife. I’m not sure what to think of such a debate–will Fisher bring science on his side? Will anyone be able to understand Odent’s English without subtitles (I sure can’t)? Will the “results” of the debate really influence midwifery?

And then there’s the issue underlying it–should women have no men at their births? Would it have helped (or did it help) you to be in an all female-environment?

Personally, while I was of course glad for his sake that my husband was at the birth of our son (right next to me in fact), I really didn’t want him or anyone else near me during most of my labor. I labored quietly in a tub in a dim room, with a midwife who was very hands-off, and perhaps that’s more in the spirit of what Odent means.

What are your thoughts, either on the debate or the issue of men itself?

–Christina