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| active labor - ring of fire |
While I do not pertain to know where these threads on the topics of pregnancy and professional identity will take me, they have certainly been building up-to -- labor and a birth story. Also, this post is more about the labor experience than it is about professional identity (that comes into play a bit later-on). Forewarning this one is a bit gory. But, before we get there, a brief background on myself (as I'm hoping that not everyone that reads these posts knows me).
I am an art therapist (you may know that by now). I consider myself an artist. Mindful engagement with art media and related topics is my favorite means of connecting with my clients. As part of my groups I teach breathing exercises and practical ways to self-soothe. So when I found myself unable to do any of those things during my labor, I really felt out of sorts.
Here's how things went...
I had no idea what was in store for me when I awoke before my alarm this past May 26th. Oh there was nothing much going on at that point, just strong intermittent cramps and my mid-back ached (that was certainly a new one). I still had almost 2 weeks to my due date, but I stayed home with my co-workers blessings to feel better. By noon even the nurse on call had suggested I just take it easy and not think much of it.
1:00PM rolls around and my husband is booking it to the house on foot. He'd walked to work that day. I'd quickly retracted my promises to pick him up, as I now couldn't leave the bathroom. Clear liquid streamed down my legs whenever I attempted standing (yes, I tried standing several times to make sure).
2:00PM we're slowly pulling in to the parking lot of the hospital. First speed-bump. First contraction.
We were half expecting to be told to go back home. This being my first and all, I had been repeatedly told how these never happen early and they always take a long time. We'd forgotten that once the water breaks, its a "go" pass, even if all the rooms are full. Which they were.
Time slowed or sped up, according to the events taking place. The brief gaps of time where I could remember my breathing and coping skills were few and far in between. Highlighted by sharp pain the likes of which I'd never imagined. My simplified art kit to document the event, useless. My tablet on which to read in between the "long stretches of waiting", equally useless -- as no such opportunity came. The play list of "birthing" songs my husband had been compiling (and which wasn't finished), also useless because I couln't stand any sound. The snacks I brought to have before I was told I couldn't. A waste. All I wanted was water with ice chips, and chapstick. But above all what surprised me the most was that I adamantly refused my husbands touch. No massages. No hand holding. And in the thick of it, I didn't even want him breathing near me or touching the bed.
I did listen or rather noticed. Honed-in-on a dear friends' "soothing breath". Rather than words, it was her going through the motions and breathing loudly near me that helped. I would focus on her breath and it would help me breathe. So in-spite of teaching this, I was at a total loss when it came right down to it. The pain too intense to think or do anything.
Of course the baby came, and we got through it. The "ring of fire" I'd read about in baby books, turned out to be real and more intense than I'd previously imagined. It was gross and gory (like Saving Private Ryan, gory) but I'll spare the details. My husband was very helpful and hands-on at the very end when he was ordered to by the doctor to drop the ice chips and grab a leg (to help counter push). As for me, I had reverted back to grunts and guttural-primal screams, the likes of which I'd never heard come out of me.
And honestly, when you're in that much anguish, who cares about all the planning, all the nudity, the raw smells, the people in the room -- you just want it to end.
About the art:
The mixed media response art piece started as a mandala during the early stages of labor - I got as far as the circle I think. In the days and weeks after labor I couldnt get myself to draw, I was fully drained. Possibly a little depressed too. Hormonal, definitely. (again thats for another post). I did however, want to document what it was like to be in labor and all I kept "seeing" was the 'active labor' stage. The 'ring of fire' that is felt when the baby's head starts crowning -- but hasn't come through enough yet. My husband tells me it was all kinds of purple and dark until she finally emerged. A combination of a head full of hair, placenta, blood, and lack of air, etc. The piece serves to document an incredible moment in my life and by doing so helps me remember it. A visual bookmark of sorts.
Here's how things went...
I had no idea what was in store for me when I awoke before my alarm this past May 26th. Oh there was nothing much going on at that point, just strong intermittent cramps and my mid-back ached (that was certainly a new one). I still had almost 2 weeks to my due date, but I stayed home with my co-workers blessings to feel better. By noon even the nurse on call had suggested I just take it easy and not think much of it.
1:00PM rolls around and my husband is booking it to the house on foot. He'd walked to work that day. I'd quickly retracted my promises to pick him up, as I now couldn't leave the bathroom. Clear liquid streamed down my legs whenever I attempted standing (yes, I tried standing several times to make sure).
2:00PM we're slowly pulling in to the parking lot of the hospital. First speed-bump. First contraction.
We were half expecting to be told to go back home. This being my first and all, I had been repeatedly told how these never happen early and they always take a long time. We'd forgotten that once the water breaks, its a "go" pass, even if all the rooms are full. Which they were.
Time slowed or sped up, according to the events taking place. The brief gaps of time where I could remember my breathing and coping skills were few and far in between. Highlighted by sharp pain the likes of which I'd never imagined. My simplified art kit to document the event, useless. My tablet on which to read in between the "long stretches of waiting", equally useless -- as no such opportunity came. The play list of "birthing" songs my husband had been compiling (and which wasn't finished), also useless because I couln't stand any sound. The snacks I brought to have before I was told I couldn't. A waste. All I wanted was water with ice chips, and chapstick. But above all what surprised me the most was that I adamantly refused my husbands touch. No massages. No hand holding. And in the thick of it, I didn't even want him breathing near me or touching the bed.
I did listen or rather noticed. Honed-in-on a dear friends' "soothing breath". Rather than words, it was her going through the motions and breathing loudly near me that helped. I would focus on her breath and it would help me breathe. So in-spite of teaching this, I was at a total loss when it came right down to it. The pain too intense to think or do anything.
Of course the baby came, and we got through it. The "ring of fire" I'd read about in baby books, turned out to be real and more intense than I'd previously imagined. It was gross and gory (like Saving Private Ryan, gory) but I'll spare the details. My husband was very helpful and hands-on at the very end when he was ordered to by the doctor to drop the ice chips and grab a leg (to help counter push). As for me, I had reverted back to grunts and guttural-primal screams, the likes of which I'd never heard come out of me.
And honestly, when you're in that much anguish, who cares about all the planning, all the nudity, the raw smells, the people in the room -- you just want it to end.
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| Minutes after being born, Elise stares back at me... |
... and thats when the littlest warm-sticky-squishy and crying thing gets placed on you. And you're besotted. And you can't stop staring at it (even if it's covered in gunk).
It doesn't end there. Contractions continue. The placenta makes its exit. Stitches get stitched. Then the nurse gives you strong "massages" in your lower abdomen to help further contract your insides and move things along (intermittently for several hours). Never-mind the part where I couldn't sit right for the next 8 weeks. And sitting is all you do, because now you have a little one that needs nursing around the clock. But thats another story for another post.
Just like that we became a family of 3.
About the art:
The mixed media response art piece started as a mandala during the early stages of labor - I got as far as the circle I think. In the days and weeks after labor I couldnt get myself to draw, I was fully drained. Possibly a little depressed too. Hormonal, definitely. (again thats for another post). I did however, want to document what it was like to be in labor and all I kept "seeing" was the 'active labor' stage. The 'ring of fire' that is felt when the baby's head starts crowning -- but hasn't come through enough yet. My husband tells me it was all kinds of purple and dark until she finally emerged. A combination of a head full of hair, placenta, blood, and lack of air, etc. The piece serves to document an incredible moment in my life and by doing so helps me remember it. A visual bookmark of sorts.
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