We all make plans for our births. Whether we explore the many options that we have available to us by researching, discussing and preparing for our ideal birth, or if we choose (yes, it is still a choice) for a more “procedural birth” going ahead with your particular hospital’s standards or those of your attending nurse midwife or OB.

And one of my favorite birth-centered blogs is www.birthwithoutfear.com. This blog shares stories of home births, hospital births, in-the-car births, births of all types are welcome in order to build a worldwide culture where woman can truly birth without fear, whatever her choices may be and however a birth may move into reality, even in the face of a mother’s best laid plans.

I was particularly touched by the recent heart-baring post by a mother named Amber. She wrote about the birth of her son, Ben, and her deeply personal journey since his birth. You will see from the photos that they shared with us that Ben is an absolutely gorgeous baby. You will read about the tenderness between Amber and her husband and how they have created a beautiful family from this place.

I share Amber’s story with you here because if am I am to be honest with myself and with you, her birth story is the birth of my greatest worry while I was pregnant for my son. During my pregnancy I allowed myself to acknowledge that a cesarean delivery had to be part of my awareness, even if it was my absolute last choice among the options I had in front of me.

My husband (who was born at home) and I prepared for a homebirth with two attending licensed midwives to support me during my labor. And as far as hospitals go in the USA, I live in a particularly privileged area of the country where natural births (in and out the hospital) are the most sought after births, therefore they are more common and laboring mother gets more support in doing so.

We did have our ideal unmedicated birth at home, with all of us resting well and safely after, but I also had some peace of mind before my labor began that if a transfer was needed during our birth, or if in the weeks before the birth we learned that it was no longer a safe option for me to birth at home, then we would have been in a good hospital in the end. And as I sit here reflecting on it all right now, I realized that I never thought of a transfer at any point during my labor, that it was only something that my mind needed before the big day.

I share Amber’s story with you, and some of my own story too,  to help move myself past the lingering fear that I discovered still within me two years later, made evident by the changes in my breath and in my own body as I read her beautiful and moving story. She is so blessedly raw and real, so deserving to be healed in what will best serve her, not some ideal that any of us may hold for her, or for any mother whose dreams and ideals give way to a birth other than their deepest hopes.

I share and link to Amber’s story to heal myself of that echoing fear within me.  I share it in the hope to shift us all, every last one of us, into a world that is truly a place for every woman to birth without fear.

After shedding so many tears, I have been stewing over whether or not to open up my heart and share my honest and reflective thoughts about Ben’s birth. One night, after reading some powerful stories about women who successfully had a VBAC or HBAC (vaginal/home birth after cesarean) I nursed my baby, and then crawled into bed weeping in my husband’s arms. In the end I decided it would be cathartic for me and help heal the pain I have been going through to let the feelings flow out of my fingers. To some, the fact that I had a cesarean surgery won’t be a big deal, especially since (very sadly) they are all too common. Of course there are bigger things going on in the world, with many people experiencing real losses that don’t compare to me having a c-section. But this is a personal hurt for me that needs to heal. It’s easy to say that we are lucky because we have a healthy, beautiful little boy, so how he came into the world doesn’t matter. Very true, but Ben would have been born healthy no matter what. And it does matter to me. Mothers matter. It’s a little piece of the way I will always define myself. I missed out on an incredibly empowering experience.

I strongly believe that all normal, healthy pregnancies should happen naturally, but obviously some people would disagree with me on that point. With all of that being said, my disclaimer is that I realize doctors, hospitals, and c-sections all serve a very important purpose when necessary, and we are so lucky to have them when we need them. I’ve had friends need the services of the NICU and emergency c-sections, and friends who have had completely natural births. My husband and I educated ourselves and wanted a drug-free birth. Drugs make things harder, not easier. We took natural birthing classes and thought we were well-prepared, and I still ended up having a c-section. I continue to feel great loss and sadness over how our birth experience played out. After Ben was first born I didn’t feel upset because I was so glad he was here, but the more I reflect on the experience the more pain I feel over it. Giving birth is a normal, beautiful process. We had a plan… We had a dream for how we wanted to welcome Ben to the world. I felt confident having goals and being educated about how to meet them. Our surgery was so far out of the scope of what I expected that I am still grieving the loss of how Ben should have entered the world. I am probably being too hard on myself, but I truly feel like I let my baby down. I should have done better by him.

I don’t want Ben to feel badly because I hate how he was born, so I need to find some way to move on from these feelings, if possible. I need to heal my mind and soul and come to peace with the experience. Because I have major regrets. I wanted to push and give life to my son, bring him to my chest and not let anyone take him away to poke and prod at. I wanted to nurse him and lie with him for as long as I wanted. I wanted no drugs coursing through either of our bodies. I wanted to smell him and feel him and spend as many hours as I wanted looking at him. I wanted to remember all those first precious moments of his life. I don’t know why on earth I thought these things would happen in the hospital. Those people seriously don’t like when you try to mess with their protocols.

We had so much going on right after his birth that I really suppressed my feelings. I was focused on getting breast feeding going, getting us healthy, dealing with Ben’s reflux, etc. Now that some time has passed, I am in a grieving process. I wrote a version of his birth story a few weeks after he was born. I think I wrote with my rose-colored glasses on. I wanted to be polite. I didn’t want to seem dramatic or overly negative. Maybe I was embarrassed that I had been openly advocating how much I believed in natural birth and then I didn’t have one. I don’t think I had enough time to fully process and reflect on the experience. This is me digging deep and tapping into unfiltered, raw emotions and details I haven’t shared before.

Some of the words I heard during the end of our labor: “failure to progress” “take the baby out” “you can’t have more time” “risk of infection is too high now.” How terrible. I left the hospital feeling like a failure. I failed to bring my baby into this world in the way he deserved. But I tried… I tried damn hard before they took us to the operating room. The ridiculous, pitcon-induced contractions were killing me. I was having back labor. I was trembling. But I was breathing. I was working. I wanted it. I was close… 7 cm. But I was exhausted. I keep going back and thinking that I could have done it if I weren’t limited on time and movement restrictions. If I wasn’t hooked up to the IV machine, and if I didn’t have to wear the fetal monitor I could have actually moved around the room. I could have swayed and rocked, and maybe got in the tub or shower. They didn’t like the position I was laboring in, and I couldn’t be more than a few feet away from the machine.

Sometimes I’m not even sure if I can wholly call the surgery his “birth.” I guess he was born, but it was a surgery, not a birth, and that also makes me sad. While most of the time in the OR is really blurry, I distinctly recall lying terrified in tears, without my husband with me, on the surgery table. I overheard the medical team casually talking about baseball. Baseball! I realize I was just another surgery, just another day on the job for them. But here was a historic moment in my life, and none of the doctors in the room even talked to me. Yes, I realize their job isn’t to be lovey dovey… but it still seemed really impersonal. I was lying on my back, having powerful contractions I could still feel through an epidural. It took forever for the anesthesiologist to get my body numb, which resulted in a painful spinal tap. I do have to give major props to my LD nurse here, she was amazing and became the person I anchored to when everything else was confusing. While the doctor paced impatiently waiting to slice me open, I remember apologizing to him… as if it were my fault this was happening. I even stated out loud how awful I was at giving birth. It must have been a comment to mask the loss, but I am ashamed of myself for saying it. My tongue was numb and I became frightened that I would stop breathing. One of the nurses tried to tie my arms to the table, and of all the things that happened in that room, I am happy I forcefully said no and wouldn’t allow it. I mean seriously, I’m not a wild animal, not to mention I couldn’t even move my legs, let alone hop off the table. Where on earth did they think I would go? Justin later told me they ripped my stomach from side to side getting Ben out…it hurt him to watch. I can imagine. I still can’t feel the lower half of my abdomen. An intern in the room passed out. When they pulled Ben out, I didn’t have enough function to turn my head entirely, but I could see him to my left. He was bright pink, screaming, and so beautiful. They had me guess his weight, to which I replied “11 pounds!” They laughed at me, but when his real weight registered at 10.1, maybe they realized mama knows best (and that my baby was nearly a week overdue!) It was a surreal experience though, because I didn’t really feel part of it. I was behind a curtain, the doctors took my baby out of me, and then I was wheeled away. It was like I was pregnant, and then I wasn’t.

Can you imagine being a baby, leaving the warmth and familiarity of your mama’s womb to be ripped out of her into a cold and very bright room, and then not having the one human who you have spent your whole life inside nowhere near? Instead of letting the chord pulse and give blood to my baby, it was immediately cut, and instead of resting on the warmth and comfort of his mama’s chest, he was wrapped in a blanket. I was crying, and I got to kiss his cheek before they wheeled me away. I was in the recovery room with my wonderful nurse, but Justin and Ben weren’t there (I insisted he stay with the baby). My catheter broke and my nurse had to re-insert another one. My eyes felt heavy. The room was spinning. When Ben was finally brought to me to start nursing for the first time, he didn’t get to try it on his own. We didn’t get to be skin-to-skin, the way nature intended. My shirt was pulled down and his mouth was shoved on my breast. Then I threw up. Yes, the first time I nursed my baby, which is supposed to be this incredible bonding experience, I was vomiting green liquid over his head into a pan. All the drugs made me sick. Ben didn’t get to stay and nurse as long as he wanted, because the nurses upstairs were waiting for us in our postpartum room and we had to meet the needs of their schedule. Ben deserved better than this. Shortly after, I passed out, exhausted from the long night and the drugs. I don’t remember any of the first couple of hours with my son, because I was sleeping. When I woke up the pain from the surgery was incredibly uncomfortable. I had circulation cuffs on my legs. Despite my protests, I was given more pain medication, and then more medication to stop the nausea  At the time I felt somewhat happy. Happy that Ben was here, that the whole thing was over. But I missed out on so much. I didn’t get those first few moments when the happy hormones take over and all the world is said to be perfect. I didn’t get to be skin-to-skin with my baby for a long time. Instead, I was practically in a comatose state with my new baby lying in a plastic box on the other side of the room.

Throughout the entire labor and birth experience my husband and sister-in-law were my rocks.  In no way does my sadness about our birth reflect either of them and the course of events. At first I felt like I had not only let my son down, but I must have also disappointed my husband. I really wanted him to be proud of me. I know now that he is proud of me. He knows I tried hard. But after the birth I really couldn’t let go of how ashamed I felt that I couldn’t do one of the most basic things a woman’s body is designed to do. I found comfort that Justin and I made every decision along the way together, and each choice we thought was going to be the right one. God showed my husband to me in an entirely new light throughout the hours before Ben was born. He was strong. He was protective. He cried with me. He was incredible. And then my dear sister-in-law, Marian, prayed over me, comforted me, and came up with an ingenious way to keep hot packs on my back. After Ben was born, Justin was a saint (as you may notice I mention a lot). Physically I couldn’t do much of what I wanted, and he did it all. When we got home from the hospital, nursing was tough. I was tired. Justin had to use little tubes and syringes to feed Ben. We “had” to give him formula for one day, which just about broke my heart. My milk came in late and I felt like Ben was rejecting me as his mother. I didn’t feel super connected to my baby, and that made me sad. I felt depressed, but didn’t talk to anyone about those feelings in the beginning. People don’t seem to give them much merit, because they don’t want them to be true. “Oh yes, it’s normal to feel overwhelmed…” But it was more than that for me. So I laid naked, skin-to-skin with Ben to form a bond. I kissed him everywhere. Heck, I even licked him! I breathed in his scent. I tried to make all the connections that should have happened at his birth, happen later. And it took awhile, but eventually I felt bonded with my baby, and I finally felt like he was mine.

So I’m angry. It took some conversation with my husband to figure out who I am so angry at. At first I thought I was angry at the medical system in the US and how poorly maternal healthcare is handled. Or maybe the doctor who came in with an entourage of people at the end of my labor and said condescendingly “I think you know where this is headed…” It would be much easier to blame them. I wondered, how in moral conscience can these OBGYN’s be cutting people open so freely? Or maybe I was mad that the midwife on call told us that the overseeing physician would “Have a chat with us if we refused pitocin.” Whether they do it intentionally or not, it seems they use scare tactics to force their options on you in order to protect themselves for liability reasons. Ben’s heart rate was awesome and stable throughout my whole labor and he was handling everything, even the nasty artificial contractions, with ease. But they slapped the ol’ “risk of infection to the baby is too high to let you continue…” and made me feel like there was no other avenue to pursue but a c-section in order to preserve my baby’s health. Maybe I would have been too exhausted and couldn’t have done it anyway, but I wanted more time to try. I am upset because my c-section wasn’t necessary. Ben and I were both healthy. I think Justin and I are both really disappointed in some of the early choices that we made. I think we knew they weren’t right for us, but maybe out of fear we did them anyway. We would really like to focus on a gentler and less reactive way of making decisions.

Knowing what we do now, we would have made better choices for our family. I didn’t do enough research when choosing a care provider that would support us (and I think this is one of the most important things.) I switched from a doctor to a midwife halfway through the pregnancy, thinking it was the right decision. I thought a midwife is a midwife is a midwife. Wrong. Apparently we had a nurse midwife, who has a background in medicine and picks up a certification later. The midwife we had for my care (who wasn’t even on call and present at our birth) didn’t support the holistic approach we wanted. It should have been a red flag when she casually mentioned that she could “snag my bag” if I wanted to “get things rolling” sooner than my due date. Justin and I were both upset about the comment but still figured that we had enough willpower and strong decision making skills to not let them bully us around when the time came. In reality, we should have ran like crazy to the nearest birth center without a bag of drugs in sight and found a midwife who wanted the same things for us that we did. We should have given it a real shot.

So who am I so mad at? It’s not the doctors. They are just doing what they were trained to do. They think they are saving moms and babies, when in reality they are creating the problem with their interventions in the first place. So eventually, I figured out that I am most angry at me, and that has been the hardest thing to come to grips with. I feel like we should have known better. We were educated! We knew that going to the hospital significantly increased our chances of having an intervention or surgery. We took a 12 week natural childbirth class and learned nearly everything there was to know about giving birth. Our instructor was amazing and even put us through likely scenarios that are common in the hospital to prepare us for the battle. I turned a blind eye and figured that it wasn’t going to happen to me. We hoped for the best I guess. And now I am part of an ever-growing statistic in our country. I can’t figure out why my past self made the decisions that I did. I’m mad at myself for allowing so many things to happen that we didn’t want. I’m mad at myself for ever agreeing to head to the hospital when we did.

There is a specific moment in time I would go back to if I could, and it’s truly where I believe one of the real differences could have been made. Justin and I went into the clinic, and our midwife told us we should head to the hospital. It felt surreal. Seriously? No contractions or other labor signs… I was feeling normal. We listened to her because we were excited I guess, she told us our baby would be born soon, and we thought we trusted her. We stopped to eat lunch. We casually went home and gathered our things. We picked up my sister-in-law. I was smiling and cordial and… definitely not a woman in labor. I would go back to that moment and say, “No.” I should have come home and relaxed and agreed to come back later when my body went into actual labor. I basically signed a waiver agreeing to a hospital time limit, instead of trusting my body.  I shouldn’t have even mentioned that my water was leaking. I shouldn’t have allowed her to do a vaginal exam. I have done some research about labors that are preceded by the water breaking, and the more I read, the more frustrated I feel. From what I now understand, I believe my hindwater was leaking, since my bag of waters was still fully intact at the hospital (they wanted to tear it open at one point while we were laboring, and Justin said when they cut me open there was a huge gush of water everywhere…in other words, my bag of waters never really broke). A hindwater leak occurs when only a small amount of fluid is released, which is what happened to me. Once a leak or water breaks, real labor is sure to follow at some point. This means I was probably very very close to having natural labor on my own without ever having been induced in the hospital. I have read that no matter how much fluid you have left in your belly you should stay home until contractions are strong and close together, otherwise you will be told you are at risk of infection and will be on a timetable (gee, sounds familiar.) I learned that leaks can easily reseal over several days with no ill effects. In the UK, doctors allow women to go up to 96 hours after their water breaks before being induced! Some midwives in our country allow their patients to go a few days to a week or more! The likelihood of infection is very small if you have no vaginal exams and stay home in your own environment as long as possible. I really wish we had known this. I wish we would have called someone for a second opinion. Oh, how I wish we would have just stayed home and waited.

I’m struggling with what could have been. It’s nearly impossible to not go back in time and say “What if?” But “ifs” aren’t good for healing. And it’s so easy to go back and say what we should have done. So easy.

The silver lining is that now we know better for next time. We know for sure what to expect and what we want if we are fortunate enough to have another child. Sadly, having a vaginal birth after a cesarean can be tough in terms of finding a care provider who will not only do it, but also really support the goal. A lot of doctors take on VBAC patients, but don’t really care whether or not it happens for them. Also, many doctors won’t help women with a VBAC who were “failure to progress,” which is now what I would be labeled. From what I understand, the risk of having a vaginal birth after cesarean is that there is a higher chance of uterine rupture. But the risks of having multiple cesarean surgeries is also unnerving. The odds of me successfully having a vaginal birth are fairly slim, but I am going to try my hardest anyway. I think in the future we will put a lot of effort into choosing a care provider who is completely supportive of a VBAC, whether that be an OB and we end up in a hospital, or a midwife and we end up in a bathtub at our house. If we do get to have another a baby, we will absolutely do research and put together the best qualified people to help us have a better experience. I am going to lose weight, get healthy, and get fit. I want to be low-risk when the time comes to have another baby and know that my body will be up to the task.

Phew, that was some major mending…a step in the right direction. Thank you for listening.

(Photo : Bruce D. Perry, M.D., Ph.D./Child Trauma Academy) Neurologists say that the sizeable difference between these two brains of two different 3-year-olds has one primary cause: the way that their mothers treated them

Lending a voice of science and research, to what mother’s already know well, is how maternal love and support impacts and effects of a child’s brain size and growth. With the size and growth of the brain’s structures relating directly to a child’s (and the adult they will become) potential for learning, as well as long- and short-term memory, and lifelong appropriate stress responses.

First published 2012, this research focuses on the amygdala, which is the area of the brain connected to emotional memory and reactions,  and the hippocampus, which consolidates information from short-term memory to long-term memory, and spatial navigation. To offer more context for the type of impact this may have on a developing child’s brain, the hippocampus is one of the first areas of the adult brain that registers the damage of Alheimer’s Disease.

The image above, from the work of researchers at Washington University School of Medicine in St. Louis, demonstrates how a mother’s love and care-giving physically affects the mass and structure of a her child’s developing hippocampus, with some children showing a difference of a full 10 percent in hippocampal mass between nurtured children and their extremely neglected counterparts.

Read more about these finding in the article shared below.

Chilling Brain Scans Show the Impact of a Mother’s Love on a Child’s Brain Size

By Christine Hsu Oct 29, 2012

Read more athttp://www.medicaldaily.com

This terrific new graphic developed and published by the Women’s and Newborn Services of the  Royal Brisbane and Women’s Hospital (RBWH) is offering new mothers and other caregivers a means to identify and meet a baby’s hunger cues. First and foremost a friendly promoter of breastfeeding and nursing, these RBWH tips can be used for breast- or bottle-fed babies, as led by each family.

In addition to the well-illustrated and identifiable images of this baby as she moves through the progression of hungry, is the gentle reminder to parents and caregivers alike, that when a baby becomes too agitated to eat, that you can help them best by first taking some time to calm them so that they can then feed.

Being a mother myself, I can remember those early hours with my newborn son, when I quickly learned that by first calming and centering myself, I could then help guide my son into a calmer state as well. Hearing our little ones cry, especially as new mothers, can really stir up our feelings of concern, lending a sense of urgency to give our baby what he or she needs…NOW. It was here that I found taking a few easy, full breaths and speaking aloud in a soothing voice helped both me and my son—getting us both back in a place where we could settle in for a nurse together. This practice served me well with my newborn, and it continues to to this day, now that my boy is an energetic toddler zooming around the house at top speed.

In the article shared below, you will read about the recent discovery of more than 700 species of beneficial bacteria found in breastmilk and about the factors, such as maternal weight and natural vs. cesarean birth, that have been shown to influence the diversity and quality of these mighty microbes.

I have linked to the original stories at the end for those interested in reading the published work in it’s entirety.

Science Daily, Jan. 4, 2013

Journal Reference:

1. R. Cabrera-Rubio, M. C. Collado, K. Laitinen, S. Salminen, E. Isolauri, A. Mira. The human milk microbiome changes over lactation and is shaped by maternal weight and mode of delivery. American Journal of Clinical Nutrition, 2012; 96 (3): 544 DOI: 10.3945/ajcn.112.037382

Story Source:

Covering much more than the subtitle lets on, the book actually begins before the first year. It touching on the planning and preparing for your upcoming birth, making it a great read for mothers-to-be, whether it’s your first pregnancy or not. And the charming introduction offers the lens from which to read the book, with Massaro and Katz sharing their sole purpose for writing this new mama guide, and that is to “bring to life an often-forgotten truth: a mother’s instinct is the best resource she has to crease a joyful and connected relationship with her baby.”

Their hope is to empower every mother to gently and committedly to do their own “gut check” with all that is offered to them as new mothers, whether through cultural “wisdoms,” ideas that are pounded through the media, or even “experts” to whom we look to for help and information.

Massaro and Katz speak to what so many mothers are seeing and feeling today, and that is that “Motherhood has been targeted by advertisers, and bombarded by opinions masquerading as medical necessities.” Their intention behind writing this book is to help mothers reclaim a simpler, more connected first year with their babies based on a mother’s own heart of true joy and relationship.

In The Other Baby Book, you will learn the “whys” behind so many tried-and-true mothering wisdoms, like the incredible healing and protective qualities of vernix (the waxy, cheesy coasting your baby is born with) and why waiting to bathe your newly born baby allows your little one to take full advantage of nature’s perfect plan for immunity.

You will also learn the science behind the magic of touch and physical contact that benefits not just your baby, but mothers as well. Highlighted in the chapter on Touch, is a terrific section on babywearing, which is what Boba Family is all about. Massaro and Katz offer up what stats on what generations of mothers already know; that your baby cries less when held close to you throughout the day, whether by babywearing and carrying. Boba founder and babywearing educator, Elizabeth Antunovic shares with readers how babies and mothers benefit physiologically, psychological and emotionally from babywearing. Antunovic, also a mother of four, details the benefits of upright babycarrying in the book with this,

“With a baby upright on his mother’s body, mom adjusts to all her baby’s movement, and he to hers, moving like perfect dance partners. Constant feedback from his skin and the fluid in his inner ear help the baby understand space, and his place in it. A baby’s muscles become stronger as they respond the varied movements of mom’s body and the force of gravity.

Its no surprise that babies carried upright scored higher on both motor and mental tests in the first of life. The rich environment worked the babies’ neural pathways.

Carrying a baby upright on your chest regulates his autonomic system. Studies have shown that a baby’s heart rate stabilizes, his body temperature regulates, he transitions more easily from one sleep state to another, and actually sleeps longer. His breathing becomes steady, he has less chance of apnea, and oxygenation of his body increases. While on his mother’s chest, his systems are kept at a regular tempo. When apart from his mother, a baby works twice as hard to maintain physiological harmony.

A mother can trust her intuition. By holding her baby close to her heart, she uses the most physiologically beneficial method of carrying her baby, proving the optimal environment for her baby’s psychological and emotional growth.”

Massaro and Katz have written the book that was missing from our bedside tables, by accurately covering a mother and baby’s first year together with practicality, kindness and humor. And all the big first-year questions are covered, from breastfeeding and introducing solids, to diapering and EC, but most importantly, how to build your trust in yourself and your mothering wisdom as the authority for your family. I love that this book is in the world and being shared. Taken in and taken to heart, it will go far in supporting the growing, world-wide movement to heal birth and our families, beginning as it should with the mother-child relationship.

In preparation for my birth, I got reacquainted with the practice of using positive affirmations.  I began journaling later in my pregnancy, and within those pages, I wrote messages to my unborn child that will be shared with him when he gets a bit older (he is not quite two now).  I also tucked beautiful images into its pages, along with leaves, flower petals and photos of me with my family and in my favorite places. I watched for things around me that created more peace and more confidence within in me and I created affirmations from these. I jotted down bits of lyrics, gems from my conversations with friends, guidance from our midwife and most especially, insights from my own experience of myself during the bloom of my first pregnancy.

Affirmations helped me to ground my mind when I felt any fleeting fear and uncertainty come up and they also strengthened my confidence when I was feeling strong and absolutely capable of laboring and birthing my child into the world on our own terms. As my women friends are becoming mothers themselves, some for the first time, some for the fourth, I continue to use affirmations in my daily life, but I now extended this practice to include my friends in their pregnancies, their births ahead of them.

I was cozied up with my little one today, sharing a snuggly afternoon nurse and watching the leaves fall from the trees outside when I began thinking of our dear friend who is newly pregnant and who is over-the-moon excited about this new life within her. I was reflecting back to my favorite affirmations from my own pregnancy and offered a few up to bless her way ahead. And then it got me thinking, what if all of us who care deeply about birth used birth-positive affirmations not just for ourselves and our family and friends, but offered them up with our most sincere intentions for every woman, every child, for every birth. I feel like so much is possible for us all in our births and in the healing of our collective experience of birth. I also know that my intentional  practice of encouraging positivity in my own mind and body during my pregnancy (here are some ways that I did this) served me well throughout the pregnancy, but especially during our birth and now as a mother. I also know how much goodness I feel in my own self when I bless another mother’s way with my prayers and loving support—it feels really wonderful to be part of it all!

So, let’s give it a go together! Let’s all lend some heart to a subtle, yet irrepressible shift toward healing birth by beginning with our own thoughts and emotions surrounding birth. I hope that you will join me in me in offering up affirmations with heart-held intentions to benefit everyone around us—men, women and children. We must all be included and touched in order to heal our collective idea of labor and birth.

Here is a list to start us off in our work together. Please use the ones that hold the most significance to you and that touch your heart. Add your favorites, say them out loud, speak them silently inside your mind, write them down and read them often, share them with others, share them with everyone. Let’s do it, let’s create more birth goodness in the world one thought, one mind at time, beginning with our own.

“Remember this, for it is as true and true gets: Your body is not a lemon. You are not a machine. The Creator is not a careless mechanic. Human female bodies have the same potential to give birth well as aardvarks, lions, rhinoceri, elephants, moose, and water buffalo. Even if it has not been your habit throughout your life so far, I recommend that you learn to think positively about your body.”

Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth: Updated With New Material

My heart and body know exactly what my baby needs, my mind is learning.

I am a powerful, loving and creative being.

My pelvis releases and opens as have those of countless women before me.

Good strong contractions help my baby come into the world.

My body contains all the knowledge necessary to safely birth my baby.

My baby knows how and when to be born.

Birth is a safe and sacred experience.

My baby will be born healthy and at the perfect time.

I am a strong and capable woman.

I am a powerful, loving and creative being.

I am willing to meet myself with kindness in all that may arise.

I accept this labor as my labor and believe it is the right one for me and for my baby.

I feel the love of those around me.

I proudly step forward and take my place within the collective of motherhood.

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When I found out I was pregnant, I knew I would breastfeed. My mother had breastfed me, and my husband’s mother breastfed him. I knew of the benefits, and more importantly, I knew it was the natural choice. I was all for natural “attachment parenting”- I wanted to give birth all naturally, cloth diaper, babywear, leave my son intact, and generally give my son the best start in life. I didn’t buy bottles, and since I was going to be a stay-at-home mom, I laughed at the idea of dropping $200 on a breast pump.

Of course, parenting is not as simple as we anticipate. Sometimes life throws us a curve ball, as I found out. Although I was able to give birth to my son Lucas all-naturally on September 15, 2011 with the help of my amazing doula, I immediately began struggling with breastfeeding. After 3 weeks of nursing exclusively (through bloodied nipples and nonstop tears/meltdowns), another 3.5 weeks of pumping exclusively (still painful), and countless tries to remedy the pain I was feeling, my doula and I came to the conclusion that I had Raynaud’s phenomenon of the nipples. Even though I had dealt with this condition in my hands and feet for all my life, I was still shocked that it could affect my breastfeeding relationship. And on top of all this, I was struggling with severe postpartum depression. My son was 7 weeks old when he got his first bottle of organic formula- and I mourned the loss of the nursing relationship I so longed for.

Although I was still giving my son 6-12 ounces of breast milk per day from my own frozen stash, I knew that wouldn’t last for very long. The nearest breastmilk bank was 4.5 hours away, required a prescription from an OB/pediatrician, gave precedence to severely ill/premature babies, and costs $3 an ounce (not including shipping). So on my doula’s urging, I decided to check out two informal milk-sharing sites called Human Milk 4 Human Babies (HM4HB) and Eats on Feets (EoF). I nervously contacted two mothers in my city who were offering up their extra breastmilk, completely free, out of the goodness of their hearts. My own heart bruised from my own feelings of regret, I prayed they would not judge my inability to continue nursing/pumping. Not only that, but many people I had talked to about donor breast milk seemed very wary of the idea- how do you know that this milk is safe, that the mothers aren’t sick or doing drugs?

Instead of judgment, I found kindness from these donor milk moms who were just trying to help out, who had the same belief as me- breast milk is the normal, natural, perfect food for our babies. In fact, one of these first two moms is now a very close friend, and despite her daughter being over a year old, she continues to nurse her and pump about 6 ounces a day for my son! (I also told her about the Boba 3G, and she’s now a regular babywearing momma!)

Since the end of October/early November, my son has had 10 donors, and at 24 weeks old, he stopped needing any supplementary formula. I got to know these women, saw them pumping and/or feeding their children, and many of them offered up copies of their blood work and medical history. One of them was an elementary school friend of mine, another went to school with my husband since they were just kids, and a third was my sister-in-law’s high school buddy. All of them did it out of generosity, not for profit (which both HM4HB and EoF strictly prohibit). Through their donations, I have made many amazing momma friends from all over California, and even two from Oregon and Colorado.

I learned that it is possible to practice “attachment parenting” while bottle-feeding. I hold my son in my arms as I feed him (instead of propping his bottle or making him hold it on his own) and try to emulate the nursing relationship. Whenever we are out, I avoid using our stroller and instead opt to carry him close in the Boba 3G. I respond to his cries and avoid rigid feeding/sleeping schedules.

I never thought, in a million years, that I wouldn’t be able to breastfeed my son. However, I am so thankful that I have made friends with so many selfless women. Every new donor momma that I meet, I take a photo of them with my son. One day I hope to share these photos and the story of his milky mommas with my son.

I had only one example of extended breastfeeding (EB) in my younger years; I am unsure when that mother’s babies were weaned or if she let  them initiate the weaning processes. I do know that she was joked about by other women, whether she was to her face or not, she must have felt on some level that she was not supported in her mothering choices by some of the women in her life. And knowing what I do now about mothering, breastfeeding and community support, I consider this particular mother a person of great courage and someone who must have had an incredible sense of self to do what she knew was right, even when it was uncommon in her immediate community.

Unfortunately, the jokes and unfavorable opinion about extended nursing are what stuck with me throughout my childhood and 20s. I held onto these judgements as if they were my own until women my own age (in our 30s) began having babies. I watched my friends as they transformed into these educated, self-empowered mothers who made their breasts available to their little ones in a deeply mothering way that I had not seen before. Their breast-fed babies were settled quickly when they cried and they fell asleep peacefully at the breast. In fact, after being with these mothers and now being a mother myself, bottles seem to be the more challenging job and without the closeness and intimacy that a mother and baby need to flourish in their respective places within their families. Watching this new generation of mothers and babies showed me how perfectly designed we are as women to give our babies in this incredibly nurturing way. It set me right in my thinking. And in watching them, I knew in my bones that this is what I wanted for my own family if I was going to be blessed with a child.

My son was born in December 2010 and we were blessed that he was a solid nurser from the start. He went immediately to my breast after birth and over the first week, our home-birth midwife taught me many tricks during our in-home visits and care appointments. She taught me how to help him latch properly for his efficiency and to also keep my nipples free from hot spots and soreness. She shared not to use soaps in the beginning because even the mildest soaps will dry skin that was even more delicate now from changing hormones and a hungry little mouth. I followed other mothering friends’ advice too; like applying lanolin before showering to keep chapping at bay. (My son nursed easily even with lanolin on, so do not be put off by the smell.) And as always, being proactive with careful steps means staying healthy and well so that you can mother your baby with more easiness, comfort and joy. I was thrilled when we made it through our first six months with no setbacks and my son was bright, alert and constantly gaining weight. His skin was clear and healthy, his body was strong and gorgeously round.

I know some women would prefer to teach themselves to breastfeed, noting what works and what doesn’t and adapting from there.  I tend to fall into this category myself for most things, but learning to breastfeed with other mothers (my midwife and my momma friends) was ideal for me for many reasons. As new mothers, we need community and loving support more than ever before. Our hearts being wide open so that we may bond with our child is an incredible gift that needs to be honored with respect and tender loving care. I have seen mothers who had given up nursing (some with heartbreaking reluctance) after meeting with a challenging start, so I wanted the best start possible for me and my son in the hopes that we wean when we were both ready, and not before.

If you feel like extended breastfeeding and nursing is the right choice for you and your child, I encourage you to build a community around you who will support you in that choice. Seek out other mothers who are already doing it in your own community, be it immediate or online. I feel like I have learned so much about “breastfeeding” and the natural progression to “nursing” that happened for me and my son early on. (That might be a future blog topic right there: Nursing, Breastfeed and How We Relate to Both.)

Because I had some of my own conditioned obstacles I was working with, and because I was concerned that I would get push back about nursing my son longer than many do, I initially loaded up on “facts” and studies and statistics on why what I was doing was important and medically supported. I want to encourage others to not let themselves get too fixed or harden in this. I have a degree in integrative physiology/pre-med, so I understand how much stock others put into statistics and studies, even in poorly executed or biased studies. Many people want numbers or another person to tell them what is right for themselves. I understand this position because I came from this position, but I no longer share this. Instead I look to what is working for me and family and follow this. I also trust in and let my son’s natural state of wellness lead the way, and I seek professional care (our pediatric MD, our licensed midwife, etc.) when I come up against a stubborn obstacle.

I have softened quite a bit over the last year because I realized that being geared up to educate or defend the benefits of EB was actually taking away from the joy and benefit of EBing with my son. I do still have one educational come-back lined up just in case I am in the mood; and that is that the World Health Organization (WHO) position that “exclusive breastfeeding is recommended up to 6 months of age, with continued breastfeeding along with appropriate complementary foods up to two years of age or beyond.” WHO also recommends that children are breastfeed until two years or longer in developing countries.  But for the rest of it, that has completely given way to a joyful satisfaction in my son and my own mothering. I let the praise that others offer my husband and me on our son’s health and his friendly, happy nature speak for what we do together as a family.

Look for support in your immediate community: through friends and family, mothering groups who gather together (and nurse together), and to your local Le Leche League. If you are need of supportive online resources, I like these that are on Facebook:

Peaceful Parenting

You Can Breastfeed Here

The Leaky B@@B

and of course, our very own,Boba Facebook page

In Ayurveda, we are taught that the first 42 days after a woman’s birth is pivotal time that will mirror how a women will then move into her menopause. Therapeutic belly wrapping is one for the most supportive and beneficial points of care that can be offered to a new mother, therefore supporting and benefiting a woman as she moves into her third phase of life as well. Excellent postpartum care is an incredible investment for a woman and her family.

While belly wrapping may be uncommon in the modern medical system, it serves as a powerful tool for new mothers in most traditional systems—as essential as good rest, healing herbs and beneficial foods. Different traditions will highlight a variety of benefits and techniques, but here are some common benefits among the many traditions.

Benefits of Postpartum Belly Wrapping:

• Compression Offers Gentle Support to Back and Abdomen
• Helps Restores Organs and Muscles to Their Appropriate Positions
• Aides the Body In Filling Empty Spaces
• Allows for the Application of Therapeutic Oils
• Lessens Likelihood of Postpartum Depression and Accompanying Colic
• Gentle Compression Supports Post-birth Digestion and Elimination
• Offers a Deep Feeling of Comfort and Support
• Helps to Stabilize Mood and Ease Transition of Becoming Un-pregnant
• Reduces Appearance of Abdomen More Quickly — Loose Belly Weight
• Supports Return of Sexual Pleasure and Interest

There are wraps and binders on the market today–simply Googling “postpartaum belly wrap” will pull up page after page. I cannot speak to these products, but I would like to share what I did during the first weeks after my son’s birth. In Ayurveda, the use of therapeutic oils is considered highly valuable, so I knew I would be utilizing oil in my own care as well. Taking in the factors of our climate, the time of year and my own personal constitution, I chose to use (untoasted, organic) sesame oil during the first few days at least. Sesame oil is highly valued oil within Ayurveda and is used in many applications. It also has a warming quality that benefited me with a December birth.

Next I purchased a flannel pad at my local health foods store that is designed to help apply oils to the body. The dimensions of the pad were 18″ x 12″ and it was three layers of high-quality flannel sewn together with finished ends. With the flannel and oil readied, I searched our home first-aide kit for a few rounds of Ace bandage (stretchy, reusable athletic wrap) and then I went to the kitchen to find plastic wrap. I gathered all of these items and added them to the birth kit that our home-birth midwife had us prepare in advance for the birth.

Within hours of my labor and my son’s birth; I applied the oil liberally across my belly and sides, then I layered the flannel pad over the oil, and then added a sheet of wrap just over the pad (not wrapped around your middle). On top of the oil, pad and wrap, my husband then wrapped my middle with Ace bandage. It took a length and a half of wrap for the first few weeks, but that may vary for your size and shape. As you begin to apply the wrap, remember that it is not a tight wrap or aggressive support. It is a gentle compression that feels really good. Your breath should be full and easy, the pressure should be comforting and supportive, not restrictive in any way.

After the first few days, I stopped adding oil to my abdomen as the flannel had absorbed enough from the initial wrappings. I also stopped using a sheet of plastic wrap because the oil was contained in the first two layers of flannel that were next to my skin. You will adjust your wrap and technique to fit your needs once you get underway.

Wrapping my belling and the use of oils in my early postpartum care were a tremendous comfort and benefit for me. There is such huge shift from having your baby, the placenta and fluid within your body, and then an emptiness that was unlike anything I had experienced before. Wrapping my belly stabilized my walking, helped me sleep more comfortably and supported me when I was carrying my son. I could feel the support of the wrap deep within my body. Along with the placental medicine that I had encapsulated, it is the wrapping that I feel helped steady my mind during the shifting of hormones that we all share after birth. It is a powerful postpartum tool.

If you would like to know more about Ayurveda Postpartum Care, search out wise women like my teacher, Ysha Oaks, and her graduate, Sonja Bastow. Susan Weed and her Wise Women Tradition is another excellent resource for prenatal, pregnancy and postpartum care.

Have you ever wanted to try Elimination Communication (also known as Diaper Free or Infant Potty Training) but were intimidated by lots of wet bulky clothes and cold weather? You don’t have to make a full time commitment to practice this method with your baby or child. Summertime is the perfect time to try letting  your baby be diaper free!

Elimination communication or “EC-ing” is currently practiced around the world by many cultures and was probably used by most of our grandmothers in the United States, too. Parents watch for children’s cues and take them to eliminate in a toilet or outside. Babies learn to tell their parents when they have to go and this usually results in earlier-than-average potty training and a lot less money spent on diapers.

Since  EC is based on children listening to their bodies, it is totally possible to practice it part time. Many parents who work or just find it too stressful to be diaperless all the time put their babies in cloth diapers and then take them to poop or pee when it feels right. By using cloth diapers and changing them every pee the child learns when he or she is eliminating and doesn’t get used to being in soggy diapers. I for instance usually use diapers when we go out because getting peed on while out with four children is less than desirable.  When we’re home, my one-year-old walks over to her tiny potty and brings it to me to pee or poop. If it’s been a while I will ask her to try (she thinks it’s fun to sit on so she mostly obliges).  I found this article written by an EC-ing mama where her grandmother tells her about infant potty training her siblings. I thought it was pretty interesting how similar it is to what I do in my family.

The grandmother in the article used cloth and also watched for babies’ cues and took them to the bathroom. This makes for less wash and cleaning of diapers, and no need to worry about poop and pee around the house.  I really love when she says “Children never wear nappies over summer – they just run around outside. It is too hot for nappies.” Summertime is a perfect time to try having your baby diaper free because babies are wearing less or no clothes anyway. It’s also great to give tiny butts a break from hot soggy diapers. So if you have an infant, a toddler or a child somewhere in between, try to watch and see what they are communicating to you. You just might be surprised at how well you baby can communicate and how well you can understand.

Here’s a video interview about elimination communication:

Click here to view the video on YouTube.