What I Want to Be When I Grow Up

When I was pregnant with Smartie, I knew I wanted to have a natural birth. I took the childbirth classes and thought I was prepared. Little did I know I'd have potentially life-threatening complications, need to be induced prematurely, and labor in bed heavily drugged and unable even to roll over without help. (You can read Smartie's birth story here.) I look back at her birth and can't think of a single thing I could have done differently.

Even though I think it was all necessary, I still felt a lot of disappointment about Smartie's birth. When I got pregnant again, I was determined things would be different. I learned more about natural birth, my particular complication, and prepared myself. Then I got pre-eclampsia for a second time. It was a much milder case, but I had a choice. I could wait for labor to start on its own, hoping for my completely natural birth but risking a repeat of getting as sick as I was with Smartie, or accept an induction. I chose the induction. Long story short, my birth was ruined by the doctor's choice of induction meds combined with a panicky nurse who yelled at everyone. (You can read the full story here.)

After the disaster that was Sweetie's birth, my desire for natural birth became an all-out obsession. Every day I thought about what I should have done differently, would do differently, imagining scenarios of yelling back at the nurse and dramatically kicking people out of my room. I read dozens of birth stories and books on childbirth, learning everything I could about common interventions and the medical mindset of most OBs. I decided I wanted a home birth, even though the midwives I talked to were reluctant to take me due to my history of severe complications. And then I found out I was pregnant with twins, and my hopes were dashed once again.

I did find a wonderful OB and CNM who co-managed my case and were very supportive of doing everything as naturally as possible. When I got PE for the third time and was on hospital bedrest for 3 weeks, I knew an induction was inevitable but still hoped for a better experience than with Sweetie. And Sassy's birth was better, despite an idiot nurse who kept turing up pitocin after labor was well established against my express wishes. Then Monkey turned breech, and his birth ended up being my worst of all. (You can read their stories here and here.)

It's been a year, and I still think about childbirth every day. Papa Runner and I have made the difficult decision not to have any more children (at least not biological), and yet I still think of it. The grief I feel over my lost birth experience is consuming me.

And then I had a brainstorm. Even though my chance at a powerful, fulfilling birth is over, maybe I can find healing in helping other women. I want to be a doula, a birth support person! If I'd had a doula with Sweetie, how much differently would things have gone! And a doula would have noticed the nurse sneaking in to increase my pitocin with the twins. I've started looking into certification, and it's something very doable even with four young kids. I'm going to talk to some doulas I know in the area tomorrow, and then I'm signing up for the first training class in September. So if you know anyone who wants birth support in the next year or two, I'll work for cheap. I need to attend at least 3 births for my certification. How great that my grief can turn into a passion that helps others!