The Slightly Crunchy Mother, Part I

That would be me.

I'm going to do my darndest to give birth without meds. There are several reasons for this, one of which is that the idea of an epidural sends shivers down my spine. Another reason is that I come from a long line of women who like to buck the system a wee bit. My great grandmother started the well baby clinic movement in Massachusetts and helped to kick Margaret Sanger out of her house (my great grandfather played a role in that, too). My grandmother was a beatnik artist. My mother sold hippy magazines on the street when she was a teen, went to a prestigious acting school, reverted to the Faith, gave up her career and homeschooled four kids while feeding us all natural foods. Natural childbirth seems to be in the same spirit.

My main concern in the birth debate is not so much whether it's physically better for you and baby. That's part of it, but I think the biggest dilemma pregnant women face is the stripping of their dignity as laboring mothers by much of the medical establishment, which often sees the so- called active management of labor as the only way to go. This isn't meant to incite any kind of natural vs. medicated childbirth debate. The issue of natural childbirth is something I've been interested in for a while, and what I have found in my pregnant travels is fascinating.

For instance, in my latest journey to the center of the hospital a young resident simply informed me they were going to "not let me go over 39 weeks" because of my gestational diabetes (in spite of the sonograms and measurements saying that the baby is smaller to average and my sugar levels have been low to normal for weeks and weeks). He proceeded to speak to my husband about it, referring to me as "she", and not even glancing over at me to see what I thought. Will was furious. I was irritated. I spoke up and said, "I absolutely do not want to be induced before 41 weeks at the earliest. I see no real reason for it, and it's just silly. It also increases the risk of c-sections, and I'm not putting myself at risk." He looked down (they never look you in the eye) and said "he'd consult with his colleagues." Meaning, he'll ask his bosses. So he did, came back and, trying desperately to sound important informed me "well, we'll let you go and not induce." Victory!

The experiences Will and I have had in the highly official medical world has been a disappointment. The joy of a baby has been downplayed to the point that it comes as a shock when we let doctors and nurses know that we don't regard pregnancy as an inconvenience or a medical condition. Women have had babies for eons. Until very recently it was not considered a problem to be fixed. Rather, it was an ordinary event that is just a part of life. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled that modern medicine has nearly eradicated maternal and neonatal death in the developed world. Technology is great, provided it is used in a way that is in keeping with the dignity of the person upon whom it is being used. In our anti-baby and fundamentally anti-woman society the medical establishment has lost the sense of that dignity. Some people would say that any medication for pain management or induction is in itself an assault on birth. I disagree. Individual women all have their own thresholds, and as long as no risk is posed, they can weigh the options and decide for themselves. It's not about natural vs. medicated. It's about dignified vs. undignified. The problem comes when women are frightened into having something that is uniquely their own managed by strangers. Birth should be something that affirms the value of womanhood. It should not be a mere procedure to be handled impersonally by people who think she can't make decisions for herself.

I do believe that the inherent dignity of women is tied up in the labor and delivery process. It is an integral part of womanhood. When that is taken away by well meaning, or egotistical, or immature, practitioners, a part of that must be taken away. Behind the managed care model is a disdain for laboring mothers as intelligent human beings whose bodies are designed for a particular biological purpose. Surely nature wouldn't play such a cruel joke as to make giving birth impossible without the intervention of the oh so wise residents? How on earth did women manage all those centuries without decisions about basic comfort being made for them? Obviously, they are in no state to think for themselves. It'd much nicer to think for them.

Well, I have a problem with that. That's why I've gone a little crunchy with natural childbirth. I've done the research and hope (fingers crossed) to deliver without the help of epidurals or analgesics. I hate spinal needles, and I don't like feeling doped up. And, I'm enough of a hippy to kind of want to stick it to the man, which has, for months, been giving me grief over daring to have a child while being poor. At this point it gives me the most reasonable assurance of a little extra dignity in the face of a world that seeks to strip women of their femininity and intelligence.

Book Meme

My husband tagged me with a book meme.

Are you ready, my eager readers? Are you sure you want to know what the nearest book is? Hold on to your hats.

Book Meme Rules

1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.

Book: Natural Childbirth the Bradley Way by Susan McCutcheon

The first emotional signpost us obvious to both of you. Your work does not begin for three or four hours and when it does, your excellent coach does not rush you off to the hospital the minute the working part begins, but settles you down for several hours of work at home. The two of you leave for the hospital after getting a good number of hours of working labor behind you at home.

That wasn't too bad, actually.

For those of you who may be concerned that I've gone off the deep end with natural childbirth, a post will follow. I'm not a dyed in the wool advocate of things au naturel, but there are some really good points about the benefits of natural childbirth for those of us who like a little adventure. Or something.

I have no one to tag, so you'll have to forgive me if I don't bother.

And we're back.

My apologies to my vast blogging public (yes, all two of you) for my absence. I've had rather a lot on my plate the last few months, and blogging at all has been at the very bottom of my to do list.

That being said it is time to announce a slight change in the (non) purpose of this blog. After months of pregnancy and imminent motherhood, as well as months of treatment at a government run health clinic, my entire outlook on things pro-life, pro-family and pro-woman has altered for the better. Everyone hears and reads about the various crises that face women and families. Unfortunately, even the most committed Christians fall short in the appreciation of what is at stake. So, to the end of promoting the real feminine genius, our mission and vocations, particularly regarding healthcare, family life and the feminine soul I now dedicate this blog.

Adventures in Health Care, or, Please Don't Breed

People don't realize what it means to not have insurance. The poor underclasses of society just go to the state clinics, get on Medicaid, and we, up in the glorious realm of the middle class don't think about them. At least, we sure don't unless we are faced with the same situation ourselves. My husband and I are in that situation. With no insurance, no job security and a lot of moving around in the last eight months, being pregnant is a lot harder than I thought it would be. Will and I have been taken care of by a wonderful religious sister who happens to be a doctor. The care was personalized, happy, and fully Catholic. Then, thanks to a friend, we found a place to live in another diocese. Our grand ole' time in a safe, life-affirming environment came to an end and we found ourselves at the county run clinic here in Northern Virginia.

The first time we walked in, we were both struck with the intensely sterile and dreary mood. The administrative staff didn't look me in the eye, and after an hour long wait I was finally seen by a nurse who spelled my name wrong and didn't hide her disdain when I told her my method of family planning was the sympto-thermal method of NFP. After three hours, I finally got about fifteen minutes of actual treatment. I was pronouced fit as a fiddle, as was the baby, and they made the next appointment for me.

The rest of the visits to this clinic have resulted in me being over-tested and mysteriously going from perfectly healthy to high risk in a matter of 6 weeks. I've been subjected to medical students practicing on me (the poor kid today was probably a year younger than I am and was mortified at having to do the group B strep test), absolutely no hard numbers with any test results, a diagnosis of gestational diabetes, and no answers to my numerous questions. Today, I also received my post partem packet that contains helpful county phone numbers and a huge number of condoms and spermicidal cream (the nurse who gave this to me, after listening to my explanation of NFP and my reasons for using it, said "Oh, that sounds so complicated., " and then went on to say that the condoms were "so I wouldn't get into trouble again."
In short, I've been a guinea pig and a number. They have succeeded in preying upon a new mother's anxiety for the health of her child and herself. I have been one of the underclass targeted by the very practices of government run medicine for extinction. People without suitable incomes shouldn't breed, you see.

This all points to the anti-woman, anti-family bias in modern culture. You don't fully realize the gravity of the situation until it hits you in the face. When it does you're well-nigh helpless, no matter how confident and logical your mind is. The spiritual side of it strikes you, shutting you up and eliciting a flight or fight response. In my case, I just want to get out of it as soon as possible. Normally I don't mind a good fight, but with motherly instincts kicking in and my own exhaustion, all I could think of today was "get me out of here!"

St. Gerard and Our Lady of Happy Delivery, please pray for all expectant mothers, especially those in financial and health crises.

As a Proud Meber of Red Sox Nation I am Happy to Say. . .

WE WON!!!!!!!!!

Prayer Request

Please pray for my healthcare situtation. I've contacted Project Gabriel in the Arlington Diocese to help, and they are supposed to get back to me on Monday. There is no reason to think the Almighty would leave us in the lurch, but it's still pretty nerve racking.

I'm sorry the content of the blog has not been more substantial. It'll get better once things around here get relatively settled.

Medical Update

Everything is fine, but I might have a urinary tract infection. There were rather more white blood cells than is called for in my bloodwork. Please, if you think of it, say a prayer for my health. With all the stress going on right now, one more thing might be more difficult than it ought to be.

The BABY is doing brilliantly. We have a tentative sex, but that will not be made public until the happy day arrives. Baby Cubbedge is as healthy as a horse, weighs 1lb and is very active. We have a beautiful picture of Baby's face. Too. Adorable.

My dear and best beloved husband Will is recovering well from henia surgery, though he still has some pain and is taking it as easy as he can. Pray for him, too, because he could use it!

At the Doctor with the Poor

Because of a lack of insurance and a proper domicile, I am, for the time being, being taken care of by Washington, DC's Spanish Catholic Center. The main purpose of the Center is to provide medical care for uninsured immigrants (in this area, mainly Hispanics). They also take on anyone without insurance who is in need. I can't begin to express the gratitude I have for this absolutely amazing place.

I walked in today for an OB appointment and sat down in the waiting room. As usual, it was full of men, women and children, all of them friendly and jolly. The staff is always busy, but also always cheerful, helpful and truly intent on treating everyone who walks in with the utmost respect and dignity. While I waited two Missionaries of Charity walked in and sat down to wait for their appointments. They beamed at everyone. The center, always a happy place, was full of peace, even more so than usual. As it is, one of the doctors is a nun in full habit, and another is a priest in his clerical blacks. They are so kind and prayerful, and it permeates the entire place. I think the extra sisters were just a holy bonus.

The doctor saw me, went over my bloodwork, and left me in the capable hands of a nurse practitioner. Through the whole visit, I was spoken to affectionately and happily. Everyone answered my questions like I was a real grown-up, and the baby was never referred to as a fetus. The staff at SCC is like this with everyone.

Compare this to your average clinic. I have been to those as well. The staff at, say, government run establishments, or indeed in HMO offices, tend to be curt and perfunctory, and tend to treat patients like cattle to be moved along, prodded and sent on their way. Human diginity is trampled on for the sake of efficiency. On the other hand, a religiously run facility is as concerned with a person's worth as it is with a person's health.

When I think of the average patient at the Catholic Center, I have no cause to complain about anything in my life. My family and husband are here in the USA, where we all had the good fortune to be born. I have the knowledge that a temporary setback in material things is only temporary. I have a terrific education, terrific opportunities to express myself and use the talents I have been given, and I am surrounded by love. The other patients today, though, didn't necessarily have any of that. They come from horribly poor countries, they work continually to provide for families here and abroad, they are not educated, their circumstances might not be temporary, and oftentimes are not even treated like real people. They're treated like hired help. They are forgotten and left to help themselves as best they can. Thank God for the Spanish Catholic Center and every place that treats the poor as they deserve.

What Have I Been Doing?

My apologies for neglecting this poor wee blog. It's not that I haven't had things to say. It's that I haven't had energy to say them. Blogging will be much more regular in the coming weeks. My husband is having hernia surgery tomorrow morning and during recovery I will be soothing his hopefully not fevered brow and fiddling around with some posts.

Prayers for a good operation and speedy recovery are very much appreciated!

Nesting Without A Nest

Impossible, you say? Well, I say so, too. Due to circumstances beyond our control, this wee future mother is in a housing predicament. You could say 39 Windsor Gardens is a state of mind more than anything else right now. I am not without a sense of adventure, but it gets to be difficult when the nesting urge one hears about hits and there's no nest to feather. I have this urge to organize and label everything I see. The Container Store would be nirvana for me. Scrapbooking has a positive allure. Alack the day, it simply is not to be.

After giving the matter some thought, I have decided that there are two things I can do. One is nest myself, which, in Lydia-speak, means to take absolutely excellent care of myself physically and spiritually in preparation for our future home life and our baby. More prayer time, fewer complaints, more nice looking clothes that actually fit, fewer days of "I can always do the laundry later". If I take better care of myself, I'm probably more likely to feel hopeful about a tough situation. The other us to actually commune with the saints. This isn't easy, especially when you take after St. Thomas and like to see things to believe in them. It gets even harder during difficult times. You know what I mean. The times when a well-meaning "God has this under control" just doesn't cut it, and no one really knows what to say to you. Of course, that just makes things harder. This is where the cloud of witnesses comes in. The saints become your best friends. You can ask them anything, be as demanding as you like, and they never let you down.

Right now I'm praying to my confirmation patron, St. Therese of Lisieux. Funnily enough, I find her writing impossible to get through, but I love her. I'm also praying to Blessed Andre Bessette. His great grandnephew is an old friend of my family's, so he's a little like family himself. St. Joseph is on the list, as well as Our Lady of Happy Delivery.

Nesting without a nest would be impossible without massive intercession from the saints above and the saints-to-be. Thank God for so great a cloud of witnesses.