To V-bac or Not to V-bac

I am 3 1/2 weeks out from my due date. I have grown progressively bigger and bigger reaching epic proportions, my belly hangs low, I am feeling some of the tired and queasy feelings from the first tri-master creep in as I wait for the baby to come. I am perfectly happy to have this baby do a full gestation, there is still more to do like cleaning, hospital bag, food calendar, car seat installation but it would also be fine if baby came tomorrow. I would be prepared either way. I am a seasoned mom I know what to expect in the beginning and just how hard it all is. Its nice doing this the second time around, less fear of the un-known, more confidence a plan laid out before me that I know could change at any time.

I used to think I was an intuitive person. I seemed to have a somewhat psychic sense of when things were going to happen, an inner dial attuned to the subtleties of the future and what lay ahead. All of this went out the window when I had Sweetpea. Leading up to her due date and the 2 weeks she gestated past her due date I thought, "Today is the day I will birth my child. It will happen like this, this is the way." I got in the birthy zone, I had lots of contractions but the contractions would always die down and peter out. Nothing was like I thought it would be. The whole birth was a tale, which I have told earlier in this blog, complete with a hospital induction (cytotec), many hours of painful active labor and finally a 15 min. rush to surgery during transition.

My cesarean was probably the best cesarean one could have. It was sad to have to do it but it all went really smoothly. I was with a nurse I liked and had been with sense the beginning. It was so quick! 15 min. after being in labor for two days! They took her out cleaned her up and handed her to me within 5 min. She was with me the whole time; daddy was their and my midwife. There are some pictures; baby was healthy and nursed quickly like a champ after self-attaching in our room post birth. It was a little sad not to have daddy cut the cord but we were so in the present moment with getting her safely out we hardly noticed.

This time around we have two birth plans, one for cesarean and one for a natural labor. (Both include daddy cutting the cord.) I have to be open to both and I fluctuate daily on this. Some days I am fine with having a cesarean. My eye is on the prize of having a healthy baby in the end. I believe in my body and know I have no real idea of how it will go. Other days I feel like a rebellious teen ready to jump on anyone even considering giving me a cesarean. I am ready to fight tooth and nail to give birth in the most animalistic way I can think of. There is nothing tidy and organized about birth. It is smelly, raw, emotional and in your face. No matter where you do it, it is the most powerful and animal act we modern womyn get to do.

Judy Chicago

 The first time I filled myself up with stories of women giving birth orgasmically in their beds at home. This was my ideal vision of birthing. It still is and it is not what we can do right now. We cannot afford a home birth and so we picked the best v-bac doctor we could find. I am considered a good candidate and she thinks I will be able to have a successful v-bac. In order to v-bac with her I have to naturally go into labor by 40 weeks. This is the kicker that scares me the most, Sweetpea came a full 2 weeks after her due date. I will try to go for a full 40 weeks but I also have to be ok with hospital policy. Grrrrr. We did hire an awesome doula that I believe will be a good liaison between the hospital and me and daddy's vision for labor. I don't want to get my hopes up too much though. As a good friend affirmed for me "hold on tightly, let go lightly." I will carry this affirmation with me into the birthing rooms of the hospital, as I fight to let my baby come naturally and be ok with whatever needs to happen.

What a challenging place and yet a growthful one too.

Exploring the MET (Metropolitan Museum of Art) with Sweetpea

I strolled my sleeping child through the rows of ancient Greek statues, awed by there presence. Daddy went off to see a world war II photography exhibit, disappearing under the white tent folds of the MET's newest installation. I preferred the ceramics of antiquity. As I turned a corner to the most ancient pottery of the Mediterranean I saw her, the big, billowy, thighs and chest of an ancient mother Goddess, propped up on two metal hooks, encased in glass under soft light. She was hard to spot amongst the vases and oil urns, but she stood out for me, glowing with an aura of majesty. As I stood transfixed, the halted movement awoke my dreaming child. Sweetpea woke up with a start as she always does, immediately alert and ready to tell me something. As if being pushed in a stroller over the cobblestone pathways along central park west was a part of our daily routine. Waking up surrounded by artwork in a large, loud, echoing room was just a part of the fun of having two adventuring parents.

"What’s that mama?" Her crackly just awoke voice said pointing at the little Goddess I had found for us.  “It’s our mother Goddess Sweetpea," "Mother Goddess" I hear repeated back to me, a slight pause, "why?" I go into an explanation of how this little Goddess represents the power of women as life givers and how ancient people's worshiped this power that all women have. I lift her up and we stare at the little figure, I smell her slightly sweaty hair, and marvel in the beauty of sharing this with my daughter.

I was only a little older then Sweetpea is now the first time I came to the MET. It was a daddy daughter date in the city. There is a picture of me flat up against Cleopatra's needle in a multi-colored, terry cloth dress and blues sneakers. I remember going there, I remember walking through the Egyptian temple, and admiring the old Roman statues. I have been back many times sense. As a teenager my unschooled friends and me would rain down on NYC and meet in front of the MET. We would hang out on the front steps leading up to it and check out the fashion history exhibit in the basement. My favorite place in the museum was in the Arab section, a tiny dome made of wood, carved in intricate patterns. This dome sits in a hallway in between rooms. It is quiet, like a tree house within the vast open spaces of history and art.  


Later, with my husband and daughter in toe I walk them towards the Roman statue hall. We ended up in an atrium with a larger then life bronze statue of Perseus defiantly holding up the head of Medusa. I pointed at the statue and said "Sweetpea, look at this beautiful statue."  With a look of wonder and horror my child stares and begins a long strand of "why?" questioning. I realize after the fact what a strange statue this is to point out to her. In one room I am talking about ancient people's worshiping the great Mother, in the other room I am trying to explain Greek myth and the chopping off of a woman's head. My daughter is learning life is complex.

I have cornered myself into this conversation so I go back to the beginning, we first talk about stories, how they are different from real life. Then I talk about Medusa, what she did and why someone would want to chop off her head. It is a delicate explanation.  I am trying to explain things simply enough that she will not draw conclusions about good and bad, and will instead focus on truth and fiction. The rest of the day she reports to everyone we talk to about "Dusa, and how he chopped off her head." We still talk about it months later.

Our last stop is the Tiffany hall, we all stand awestruck in front of the huge Tiffany windows, lit from within, exuding an aura of holiness. We play make believe games with the bear statues in the hall and pretend to chop off each other’s heads. :)

There we were, only a 3rd of this grand museum explored and still content with all we got to see. We went just outside the gates to a NYC park complete with meandering benches and metal play structure letting the art of the day soak into our souls.