Pregnancy is a lot like life. It hardly ever goes EXACTLY how you plan it. So, rather, you learn to readjust and embrace things as they come. You attempt to understand that control doesn’t always mean security and what matters most is how you deal with disappointment or obsticales.

Listen to me! I sound so mature! I am done with life. I’ve reached my pinnacle *snort*

Addison will be here Tuesday or Wednesday via induction. This is why:

I have been on anti-anxiety meds for a good part of my life due to Generalized Anxiety Disorder and various other things (See previous post about post-partum psychosis). When I became pregnant I talked with my primary care physician about going off my meds (because they are not the BEST for baby), and he advised that during the last two months I could transition off them. I did transition off them successfully…. until last week. Last week I started having panic attacks. My body was getting very tired from the continually uneven contractions and emotionally I was just done being pregnant. Any women who has carried a child to term understands the intense anxiety that comes when you are at the final stage. By nature, I am not a patient person (when it comes to myself) and I am just generally anxious. So when the panic attacks began to hit at random times (like driving home from Target, when I was startled by a bird…) Garrett and I began to re-evaluate the whole home birth choice.

I had a visit with my OB and he talked me through some options. He said, and I agreed, the best thing (ultimately) was to get back on my meds so I would regain composure over my anxiety and to have the baby. Since my body is still contracting (still unevenly and and random times) and my cervix is way more than ready he asked if I felt ok with attempting natural induction (stripping my membranes) and then if that didn’t work medical induction the next day. The date is set for Tuesday (strip membranes), and if that doesn’t fire things up Pitocin induction on Wednesday.

In my journey to obtain a birth experience that was solely mine I have learned several things: The business of babies coming into the world is miraculous, regardless of the process.  Each mother needs a different experiences, even a different experience from her previous pregnancies. Be informed about your body, your rights, and your needs. Take charge of your health! Advocate a process, for yourself, that will set the stage to being a healthy and balanced mother for your children. That last lesson was what made me change my mind about a home birth. The reality is, if I had a panic attack in the middle of labor at home, my husband, midwife, and I would be ill-equipped to handle it. As opposed to some popular opinions severe panic attacks can’t just be “breathed” through my some individuals. Generalized Anxiety Disorder is a medical condition caused by several factors and should be treated with the utmost respect. All that to say, it can’t be conquered with some Lavender oil and chanting (trust me, I’ve tried).

My utmost concern is creating a stable experience that will 1. not push me into the whole psychosis experience and 2. not create more anxiety for myself so I can enjoy  the arrival of my daughter. This brought Garrett and I to the difficult choice of deciding to go to the hospital (with out labor support team) to be just and IV drip away from medication that would help manage a panic attack.

All of the Brokins’ readers have been so supportive about my journey with Addison. I can’t thank you enough. I keep reminding myself, as one of my very best friends told me, that “either way I will have a new life in my arms. Sometimes it matters less HOW they were born, but just that they were BORN.” The end result both directions is the hope of a beautiful baby girl. Do I have reservations that the anxiety of a hospital birth will push me toward the same post-partum depression experience? Hell yes! Am I afraid that I won’t have a panic attack and the birth will be perfect and I will wish I stayed home. Double hell yes! 

What I do know is that I am more educated this time around, better supported, and fully equipped to face this experience. I feel that if I don’t hedge myself in and control my anxiety that it will most certainly negatively impact my chances of developing post-partum depression and taint the arrival of our daughter.

 Listen to me? I sound like I am flying to the moon.

I think this is a blessing. It has uncomplicated the process for me and brought me back to the understanding that life isn’t controllable (though I will be damned if I stop trying to control it!). Facing your giants, in any form, is important. Taking charge and taking care of our bodies is a vital.

Wish me luck folks, I will check in again on Tuesday.

I was reminded by a friend that (even though I call it hippy and joke) the reality is that home birthing and the midwifery model are actually not “Hippy” at all. They are part of  the humanistic/holistic model of care. As opposed to the medical model they choose not to treat pregnant women, but rather assist women through a natural process and little intervention.

After I quizzed my OB and my primary care physician for several visits (do you know how expensive it is to just TALK to your doctor!) I was given the green light and decided to pick my midwife. We (Garrett and I) discussed what traits were important to us and I took to the task of calling a few in the area. I knew that I would instantly tell if I wanted to work with someone over the phone, and true enough having phone conversations narrowed my choices down to two. I ended up not even meeting with the second midwife choice. I immediately knew I was in love with Janessa Craig. Add  the fact that my OB worked with her on the Labor and Delivery Unit at Siloam and I was golden. Janessa is a smooth personality who will sit and look at me very patiently as I ramble on about research and data. She looks at me graciously and inhales for me and reminds me I won’t have this time back ever again and tells  me to savor it.

Janessa and her apprentice came to have a home visit on Monday.  I cooked lunch and they explored my house, discussed scenarios, and determined what I wanted for the experience. They didn’t leave for three hours.  After doing my vitals they just sat on my bed and giggled and talked like we were old friends. At this point I entered into my lecture about why Janessa needed to let me take Castor oil… “I NEED this baby, ” I complained, “I am over it! I am done being pregnant… I want her NOW!” Janessa shook her head and gave me the same ole speech, “Jasmine the best thing you can do is let her cook and when that time comes  that God appointed she will be here.” THAT is exactly why I don’t let God be in charge of anything!!!! That dude has got His priorities all jacked up! Doesn’t HE know that my body has expired of this process!? Who likes to pee forty ba-gillion times in one damn night!! Janessa’s words, however, reminded me that I could hold on for another week and maybe even two more after that. And just to make sure my misery was cataloged in my mind appropriately, I looked up at Janessa and commented, “Don’t some women stay pregnant well past forty weeks?” She nodded. “UGH!” I exclaimed, “That is it! I am going to be pregnant forever!” To which she responded, “Well! You could make us some money then!”

So we are still waiting. In Jasmineland more waiting means more projects.

 Even though I DO own Castor Oil… I am harnessing everything I have in my overly impatient body and holding on to allow Addison to decided to arrive when she wants. *Better make is soon kid! Asking Momma to have this much patience is sort of an act of God!*

Throughout this pregnancy I have been in the unfortunate position that NO ONE can figure out my due date. I have had several different ultrasounds by several different OB’s and none of them can actually give me a good estimate. It isn’t an exact science, I know that much… but I would still like to know when I SHOULD expect our bundle of screaming joy to arrive. Here are the dates I have been given:  March 17th, March 23rd, March 27th, April 1st.   So Dr. Crownover, my OB, went with April 1st because that gives us more time before the state of Arkansas forces a C-section. Even so, all fetal measurements have been a week or two larger than they were “supposed” to be… so I was under the strong suspicion that April 1st was the wrong date.

The other day I was nesting like a psycho womancleaning out a couple of drawers and I found our old calendar. Turns out that I wrote down that Garrett and I had sex (I wrote it down because I had previously been taking fertility meds) on June 30th. For all you conception gurus out there, it means that IF I conceived on or around that date, then Addison should be born on or around the 23rd of March! Hooray! At least some kind of direction and clarity, right?!

In the mean time, my body is telling me it is full term and I am getting anxious. In a week in a half Addison will be considered medically viable (no complications if she was born)… which is a really bad thing. It is a bad thing because I am notoriously BAD about delaying gratification, especially when I have planned and scheduled and worked so hard for it. Last year I picked tomatoes too early (knowingly) because I decided that I waited long enough for them to do their damn job! Silly aren’t I! I am very patient with children (unless they live inside me) and family and friends (for the most part)… but any projects I have initiated better get themselves DONE by golly or there will be some issues.

So my little in-utero project, Addison, is quickly wearing out her welcome. Janessa, my midwife, is doing the smart thing, reminding me: “Jasmine… all things come in season- she won’t stay in their forever, but let her grow as long as she needs to.” Excuse me Janessa! Do you KNOW who you are talking to…. I want her! I want her NOW!  My OB knows this about me. He told me I could be induced when I wanted. I think this is a dangerous idea and I turned it down, but its appeal grows everyday that my hip pops out of place and I almost pee on myself when I sneeze.

Help me friends. Remind me it is okay to wait, that I will make it, and that all things come in season (even though I will most likely ignore you and drink and ungodly amount of Castor oil).

I’ve been unable to write for some time. It is a combination of the weather, more projects than a human should ever have, and being in the process of making some decisions. I am the type of person that when a decision is put in my lap to make I do a heinous amount of research, I poll friends, I read tea leaves, and I stop writing and thinking about anything BUT that decision. I am not compulsive, I Swear. I have been like this since, well… my birth. My mom explained to me that I was a very intentioned little girl. When someone asked me if I wanted a piece of candy… I weighed the options. I just tell myself I bestowed with this damn annoying habit gift to use for something great someday… I will keep holding my breath.

So the decision in question has been about how Addison should arrive into this world. What, you ask, are you saying, “Jasmine! There is one way to have babies… drugged up and in the hospital so you don’t feel pain and if anything goes wrong you have medical professionals around you.” Readers, truly, I thought so too.  IN FACT my refrain used to be, “why in the HELL would someone NOT want drugs… that HURT!!!” However, after my birth experience with Isaiah there was a sneaking suspicion in me that what happened to me at that hospital was NOT how it was supposed to be. I had always been taught, by my beautiful and wise Momma, that birth was something women could do… because we were made that way. She had no strong opinions about meds or no med or where you have the baby, but she always reminded me that women were created capable.  My hospital experience left me feeling like I was broken; pregnancy was to be treated, and that I couldn’t give birth, and my baby had to be delivered. The suspicion that maybe a women’s labor shouldn’t be stopped when it wants to starts urged some seriously uneasy choices in front of me. Here is the quick and dirty birth tale so you can understand (enjoy the run on sentences):

I went into the OB unit after a whole day of back labor. My contractions were 1 min. a part. When I arrived they checked me and saw I was dilated to 4 cms. My doc was out of town and I was only 37.5 weeks and so the attending was not happy about delivering a “premature” baby. So they gave me shots in my belly every four hours to stop the labor until Friday night when my doc arrived. My OB arrived and my labor had stopped and Isaiah’s heart readings were in distress so they decided to induce. I was given pain meds, Pitocin, epidural, Cervidil, and told to hold on tight this baby would be here. I finally was able to push on Saturday. Isaiah was born blue and unresponsive (because of the drugs he had absorbed) until they pinched him really hard. Isaiah was 6 lbs 5oz and CLEARLY not premature. I was hallucinating (from the drugs) and semi-unconscious most of the experience. That delivery followed a long stint with Postpartum Depression and Psychosis. This followed a year of attempted bonding with my son.

*Inhale*

That is the skinny. I don’t want to repeat that experience as anyone, who has given birth under extremely stressful circumstances, could understand why.  I am an emotional introvert and even before the birth of my son the idea of so many people fussing over me or not being in a comfortable environment made me feel all panic stricken and nervous. So I began researching what options I had. This was really difficult because I am a big fan of the medical field (since I will be working in it) and modern technology. Most of the birthing stories I heard where from my crazy Hippy friends, who I was convinced had some sort of Patchouli induced power to withstand pain and stuffing. I was very uneasy about all of it. What I found most interesting during my period of research (6 whole months of it) was that IF you are educated about what ACTUALLY happens during birth and what is SUPPOSED to happen via natural processes, the story changes significantly. I didn’t just watch hyped up pro home/un-medicated birth documentaries and read biased books. I logged on to EBSCO search elite and whipped out my ole researcher hat (hope I make you proud Dr. Froman) and even ran Pearson correlations on medical findings. See… ya’ll think I was joking! Just wait till I have to help my son make a decision. I am going to make the process so damned difficult, I am sure, that I render him emotionally incapable of making a decision.

What yielded after my research and conferring with my OB and my primary care physician was that a home birth (for me: an experienced low risk mom) was extremely safe and favorable. My OB is very close to me and was very sad to see me go, but soon admitted he was excited for me and knew all would be well. My primary care physician joked that his wife would hate having the mess and bustle in her home, but that he felt I was a great candidate and medically, barring freakish emergencies (which I will discuss later), it was a safe choice. So Garrett and I joined hands and made a big decision to have Addison at home, with a midwife, doula, select friends and family, and no meds or interventions. We have chosen our midwife (she has been caring for me for some time now) and we are preparing to meet Addison soon.

Damn those Hippy weirdos! They DO know something about something after all!

Part 2 coming soon……