The Evolution of Mamabear Carmen: Part One - All Roads Lead to Bear
Uncharted territory
It’s been over 10 years since I first began my journey to mamahood, and I still vividly remember the day I discovered the documentary The Business of Being Born, as well as my visceral reaction to learning about the impact capitalism has had on the over-medicalization of maternity care in the US. Up to that point, I had never given any serious thought to what I wanted my pregnancy and childbirth experience to be like. Growing up, I never spent much time around pregnant women, and none of the women in my life really talked much about their own pregnancy and birth experiences, other than the occasional anecdote about stretch marks, or the “excruciating pain”, and the potential to poop yourself while pushing the baby out. I did attend a health professions magnet high school, and while I was educated on the scientific and medical aspects of pregnancy, there was little emphasis on the actual childbirth process. So it’s really not surprising that until I started my own mamahood journey, I had little practical understanding of what pregnancy and childbirth were REALLY like.
Watching Ricki Lake’s revolutionary documentary was a lightbulb moment for me, and I found myself desperate to learn as much as possible about midwifery care and out-of-hospital births before we embarked on our own pregnancy and childbirth journey. That learning adventure led me to discover the likes of Mary Coley (All My Babies) and Ina May Gaskin (Spiritual Midwifery), both incredible trailblazers of modern midwifery care in the US. From that point on, I knew in my soul that I wanted a natural, holistic birth experience that centered and enabled my primal mama instincts to safely see my baby into the world. When we made the decision to start trying for “Bear” (our nickname for our oldest daughter) in October 2014, I had no doubt in my mind that we would have a midwife-assisted homebirth, and I made it my duty to help us prepare for this reality as well as any aspirational first-time mom could.
When over the holidays we first started telling close family and friends that we were officially “trying”, it truly felt like pregnancy, birth and the start of our parenthood journey was right around the corner for us. In hindsight, I think I just assumed that when I stopped actively trying to prevent pregnancy, it would just happen. I was wholly unprepared for the nine months that would follow – the never-ending obsession with tracking my period and ovulation patterns, the repetitive cycle of hopefulness followed by crushing disappointment, the hundreds of dollars spent on ovulation and pregnancy tests, and the myriad homeopathic and old wives tale remedies we tried to boost our chances of conception. As stressful as that process was, in those nine months, I learned more about how my body worked than I’d ever known before. Though I never quite mastered the body temp monitoring method, I became pretty adept at pinpointing my exact ovulation window, due in large part to experiencing monthly multi-day bouts of what I came to discover was mittelschmerz (abdominal pain due to ovulation). Yet, even that was never more painful than the clock reset that came with each onset of menstrual spotting, which really did a number on my emotional and mental health for a while.
A photo of me and my sisters-in-law at Thanksgiving 2014, immediately after they performed a “baby dust” ritual on me that involved rubbing my youngest nephew’s head on my abdomen.
So, in the summer of 2015, we decided to take a two-week trip to Europe to celebrate our fourth wedding anniversary and both of our birthdays, but also as a way to give ourselves a bit of an emotional and spiritual reset. Even with this in mind, we knew I would be ovulating during the first leg of the trip, and we’d agreed that we would talk to a fertility specialist soon after we got back if the magic hadn’t happened by then. As soon as we landed in Amsterdam for leg one of the trip, our first objective was to experience a proper Amsterdam welcome by visiting one of the coffee shops near our AirBnB before that part of the city shut down for the night. What transpired afterwards was an absolutely magical night that, unbeknownst to us at the time, would be the very beginning of our parenthood journey.
Me and my honey with a group of new acquaintances on our second night in Amsterdam!
The Barcelona leg of the trip turned out to be even more epic than the Amsterdam leg. We spent five days exploring the city and its beautiful beaches, stuffing ourselves with all the tapas we could find, and we also sprinkled in a couple of day jaunts to some of the other beach towns nearby. By the end of that fifth day, I was definitely starting to feel exhaustion creeping in, but at the time I attributed it to the non-stop tempo of the previous ten days. When we arrived in Lisbon, exhaustion finally won the battle, and I spent the majority of the four days we were there napping in between meals and the occasional excursion. I also started mildly spotting on our second day there, and while thoughts of yet another impending clock reset put a bit of a damper on my mood, we left with nothing but fond memories and gratitude for our time together there.
Photo evidence of me discovering the magic that is Jamón Ibérico in Barcelona.
Within twenty four hours of being home, I was already craving my next tapas fix, so we decided to order in from a restaurant nearby. While I wasn’t necessarily expecting Barcelona-quality tapas, I was so disgusted with the result that it threw my husband for a loop, as he thought they were pretty spot-on. He jokingly mentioned that I should take a pregnancy test as I’d already complained about feeling weird earlier that day, and what I can now only attribute to my first inkling of mama intuition agreed with him. I took the test, and I was two weeks pregnant! After that initial wave of emotion and celebration passed, reality started to set in. It was finally time to find a midwife.
Destination: Midwife
One of the best parts of living in Austin, TX were the many midwife practices available to choose from. Whether you were looking for a certified nurse midwife in a hospital-esque birth center as a happy medium between hospital and homebirth, or a home water birth with as little assistance as possible, you could absolutely find a midwife practice for you. I was in the latter group, as my ideal birth involved me laboring and birthing at home in an inflatable birthing tub in the living room of our picturesque “treehouse” duplex in Barton Hills. Unfortunately, our landlord did not like the idea of a 175 gallon tub full of water sitting in the middle of his living room, and I was unwilling to take the risk of saying “YOLO!” and having his worst nightmare come true; so, I set out in search of a unicorn.
The view from the porch of our “treehouse” duplex near Zilker Park in Austin, TX.
I needed a midwife whose birthing philosophy aligned with ours and whose physical energy put me and my husband completely at peace, who also practiced in a standalone birth center within a fifteen to twenty minute drive from our house, with a birthing space that felt safe and as close to that feeling of being at home as possible. After only one swing and miss, I found April at Birthwise Midwifery. My first interaction with April was about a day or two after I found out I was pregnant. I reached out to schedule an initial consultation, and while she was happy to answer all of my questions about her practice, she recommended that we wait until I had my first scan at around eight weeks before scheduling the first in-person visit. In hindsight, I’m grateful that she helped me pump the brakes a bit on my anxiousness to get things moving. As a budding first time mom who was also a notorious over-planner, I was already moving full speed ahead trying to get everything in place, and Bear was still little more than a wad of cells in my uterus.
So, I spent the next few weeks battling the onset of non-stop nausea, while (mostly) basking in the joy of the start of our parenthood journey. At our eight week ultrasound, we finally got to see (and hear) our Bear. She was just a tiny little bean with arm and leg nubs at the time (and at that point we had no idea she was a “she”), but seeing that little bean hopping around and hearing her heartbeat for the first time was the most magical thing I’d ever experienced in my life. Full of excitement and a renewed urge to start prepping for our March 2016 due date, I called April to schedule my first visit.
Birthwise Midwifery in Austin, TX
Before I even walked into the birth center, I felt such an incredible sense of calm. I’ve always had a keen sense of when something is meant to be, and in those first moments of meeting April and her midwife assistant, I knew this would be where we would have our baby. I don’t quite remember all of the details of that first visit, but what stood out to me most was April’s calming energy and down-to-earth personality. I immediately felt completely at ease with her, and was reassured by her high level of competency and vast experience as a midwife. Both my husband and I were completely sold, and we walked out as new clients with an appointment to see her again in four weeks. The next few months that followed were a blur of life events - my brother’s wedding, my granny’s late-stage cancer diagnosis, our birth announcement. Life definitely threw a lot at us during that time, but I was lucky that my pregnancy so far was healthy and pretty easy on me overall.
One of my favorite pregnancy milestones was the twenty six week glucose tolerance test for gestational diabetes. Traditionally, the test involves fasting for a minimum of eight hours, followed by having your blood sugar measured before drinking a cloyingly sweet solution, and then having your blood sugar measured again one hour after finishing the drink. April gave me the option of drinking the sweet solution, OR, eating the sweetest pancake breakfast I could find. So, off to Magnolia Cafe we went, where I had the most delicious pancake breakfast with extra syrup and a glass of orange juice. I was happy and full as a tick after fasting all night and morning, and fortunately, I tested negative for gestational diabetes!
Soon after the gestational diabetes test, I had my twenty eight week scan where we found out that Bear was a girl. We informed our families, and as it was around Christmas time at this point, folks were all too happy to finally know that they were shopping for a girl. I was also pretty excited to start adding some cute baby girl outfits to the gender-neutral hoard I’d already collected, but I was both looking forward to and dreading the holiday season that year, as it would be the last we would spend together with my granny.
Me and my granny watching TV together on Thanksgiving Day 2015.
Looking back, I’m incredibly grateful for the quality time I got to spend with her over those two months, with me talking about the pregnancy and impending birth experience, and her offering me gems of advice with copious amounts of prayers layered in. She was in awe of my decision to give birth out of the hospital and completely unmedicated. While she was born by midwife at home in rural Louisiana, she was adamant about birthing all six of her children in the hospital, fully medicated. Even though five decades had passed since she’d last given birth, she described the immense feelings of fear she still held about birth, and the complete and utter trust she put in God and her doctors to help see her safely through. I could certainly appreciate how she could feel that way, as I knew many other women in my life who felt the same way about their births. I was also incredibly grateful for her support of my decision to give birth in the way I felt most comfortable. On February 19, 2016, almost exactly two weeks before Bear would make her arrival, my granny transitioned home.
All Roads Lead to Bear
The final two weeks leading up to the birth were admittedly less than ideal for managing late-term stress. The funeral and subsequent events are still a bit of a blur, but the emotional toil it took on me made for a very stressful time for both me and my husband. I was also still working full-time at that point, as I wanted to save as much of my maternity leave as possible until after Bear was here. My midwife April was incredibly understanding, but also VERY adamant that I do everything in my power to avoid stress during what was now crunch time, to help ensure our best chances for a successful birth center birth. So, my husband became my self-assigned Anti-Stressor-In-Chief, and he made it his mission to keep me as happy and calm as humanly possible. Prenatal massages, chiropractic adjustments, mani/pedis, and copious amounts of on-demand foot rubs were the highlight of those two weeks; and much to my midwife’s delight, my blood pressure remained in a healthy range, and Bear was still healthy and growing as expected.
The morning of March 5th, I woke up achy and cranky. I’d been dealing with pretty severe pelvic pain throughout the last six weeks of my pregnancy, but it had ramped up significantly over the preceding week. Apparently, Bear had decided to make a permanent residence deep in my crotch area, making both sitting and standing deeply uncomfortable. We had plans to go to our friends’ baby shower later that afternoon, and while I dreaded the thought of sitting or standing for hours in my current state, I was looking forward to celebrating their own impending parenthood journey. We ended up having a great time at the shower, and it was quite comical to see the juxtaposition of my friend’s early-third trimester belly next to my own “ready to pop” late-third trimester belly. When we got back home later that afternoon, I immediately sprawled out on the sofa and took what would be my last nap as pre-Mamabear Carmen.
My husband and I with our friends Malcolm and Carissa at their baby shower. Just a few hours later, I would officially be in full-blown labor.
I woke up around 8:00 pm feeling restless and completely unable to get comfortable. The Braxton-Hicks contractions I’d been having on and off for a few weeks now were starting to feel really different, and also felt like they were coming more frequently. Around 9:00 pm, I decided to wake my husband up from his own nap so he could help me start timing the contractions. I also texted my midwife to tell her that I thought labor might be starting, and once she confirmed that my contractions were still fairly spaced out and low-effort, she encouraged me to try and relax, run a warm bath and sit in it for a bit with a glass of wine. As soon as I got in the bathtub, I IMMEDIATELY wanted to get out, wine notwithstanding. Our small bathtub felt way too narrow and unforgiving, and the water was not as soothing as I thought it would be. After a couple of VERY uncomfortable contractions, my husband helped me out of the tub and to our room so I could get dressed. Around 10:30 pm, I called my midwife to tell her that I wanted to head to the birth center, as the contractions were getting to the point that I could not comfortably carry on a conversation through them, which I knew was one indicator that active labor might be underway. After staying on the phone with me through a particularly intense contraction, she agreed that it was time for us to head in.
After a fairly quick ride to the birth center, during which I swear my husband managed to find every bump in the road, we got settled in while April prepped the space. She did her first cervical check to confirm that I was almost six centimeters dilated, and at that point my contractions were about four minutes apart, both clear indicators that active labor was underway. The next few hours in laborland have always been a bit of a blur, but a few key moments definitely stood out, like when my water broke after one of my last visits to the toilet. I’ll never forget standing up, and feeling the weirdest balloon popping sensation right before a gush of water fell out onto the floor, completely soaking my pants and socks. After that, contractions started coming right on top of each other, and were painful enough that I switched from my internal Hypnobirthing ® mantras to moaning, horse lipping, and rocking on all fours, or dangling off my husband’s shoulders during each one. Though I’d been trying a few different positions up to this point, I was still adamant about giving birth in the birth tub, so April rushed to get it warmed up. As soon as I sat down in the tub, I, yet again, IMMEDIATELY wanted out. The water just felt completely wrong against my skin, and no matter what I tried, I could not get my birthing rhythm back. I was at the point where I just wanted Bear to be OUT, and for this whole thing to be over with. So, I got out and sat in the rocking chair for a bit, then went back to the bed. Evidently, the water birth dream was simply not meant to be.
Me sitting in the rocking chair, deep in labor land. This was about two hours before Bear made her debut.
Back on the bed, I was surprised to find that I was able to fully rest in between contractions, so much so that my husband was able to get a quick nap in. I don’t remember the exact moment I first felt the urge to push, but I do remember April waking my husband and telling him it was time to get ready to catch our Bear. After a few pushes and pauses to give my perineum time to stretch in between, I finally felt the dreaded “ring of fire”. Everything in me wanted to retreat away from it, but April kept applying the perineal compresses and encouraged me to just hold Bear in place to allow the perineum to stretch out around the crown of her head. Finally, with the next contraction, her head was out; and with the following one, the rest of her body followed suit, straight into her daddy’s waiting hands. At 5:36 am on Sunday, March 6th, Bear was finally HERE.
My husband enjoyed a few moments holding his brand new baby girl, then he handed her to me. After a few blissful snuggles, I handed her to April since Bear was visibly alert, but had yet to let out that first cry, and April wanted to ensure her pathways were unobstructed. After a bit of coaxing, she let out the sweetest little mewling cry, as if proclaiming “alright, already, here’s your cry!”, and then settled right back down. Bear’s APGAR scores were very good, and her calm demeanor had her promptly declared to be the most chill newborn April had seen in a while. Initial checks complete, she then passed Bear back to my husband so she could see to the rest of the birthing process. While April worked on me, I relished in observing my husband’s first moments of soaking in our new little human. Being a father had been a lifelong dream of his, and having the chance to witness the unconditional love and absolute awe in his gaze as he looked at her made me fall in love with him all over again.
The exact moment I fell in love with him all over again…
My birth experience with Bear was everything I wanted, and even more than I could have hoped for. It fills me with so much pride and gratitude to know that I literally had the birth of my dreams (“failed” water birth notwithstanding), and that we ushered Bear earthside in a calm and soothing space filled to the brim with love and positive energy. Even nine years later, the mere thought of my experience of her birth brings on the same rush of endorphins I felt when she made her debut. It was then that the fire of birth advocacy was first lit in me, and over the succeeding years, I’ve enjoyed every opportunity to share my experience and offer my support to other moms seeking to birth on their terms.
My birth experience with my Bear wasn’t an anomaly, as evidenced by the millions of mothers over many millennia who birthed babies under similar circumstances. Even today, with the prevalence of highly medicalized birth environments, ensuring that the birthing space is a calm, soothing space filled with love and supportive energy can and should be the norm, and not the exception. I’m so grateful for the opportunity I have to help bridge this gap with Mama Nurture, as I work to help create positive birth experiences for other mamas-to-be.
Stay tuned for Mamabear Carmen: Part Two – And then there was Ivy
