Expect good things!

I find myself so often readying myself for the worse. In a way it seems to make sense, don't we want to be prepared for when things go awry? Whenever a challenging time approaches–and by challenging, really just something outside of our normal day-to-day– we tend to brace ourselves, we say things like, oh this is going to be a tough week.

My husband left today for a business trip to India. Next week we are going to France for one of my closest friend's weddings. Originally we were all going to fly together and after I booked our plane tickets he found out he had to go to India for work. So now the only option he has is to meet ND and I at Charles De Gaulle airport.

Initially I was pissed. Then eventually I just resigned myself to the shittiness of it all. I didn't want to give him flack for it as he had no control over it, so I just accepted it. Sort of. Internally I was imagining the 12 hour flight to Paris with ND throwing tantrums, writhing on my lap, wanting to run up and down the aisle every minute, swiping my food tray over and probably drenching us and the lucky person besides us with my coffee. At another point I imagined us sitting next to the most unfriendly baby person in the world who would eventually make a snide comment to me at the end of the flight. In my mind I went over and over again all the things I'd say to this despicable excuse for a human being. I got so into it, I could feel my heartbeat rising!

Ahh.. the stories we like to construct in our minds! I got to thinking... what if I'm just setting myself up for the worse? Does how we anticipate events actually have an affect on them? If I expect a great week ahead sans hubby and a wonderful international flight alone with my toddler - is that so dangerous? It's not like going to a movie with high expectations and then being bummed that it wasn't so great after all. We know that in life challenges arise. I know as a mother that along the course of the day many emotions will rise and fall away for both me and ND. And yes, trying to keep him entertained on my lap with someone's shoulders pressed against mine will be challenging. But do I need to DREAD it? Do I need to run over in my mind all the challenging things that might occur? Why can't I shift it to the positive?

Maybe I will be such an awesome mom that day, with the patience of a saint. Maybe ND will respond to my awesomeness by being that kid on a flight that everyone wants to applaud for being just so cute and well behaved. I say this all grinning with clenched teeth, because something inside me is saying No never! Hah! Good luck with that!

But if I keep imagining good things, maybe that voice will start to STFU. And maybe I'll actually start to believe it. If I'm going to think about it I might as well create for myself the image I want to experience.

Stories. When we start to notice the stories we play in our mind, especially the ones that get a lot of replays, we may actually start to deconstruct them. Overtime we may find that we can rewrite the ones that bring us down.

What stories are playing in your mind?

Transformation through motherhood

When you become a mother you kiss the person you were up until mommyhood a big fat Good Bye. Some of us don't see it coming, some of us do but don't really realize the extent of how much we change. Sure, the essence of who you are is always there. But the transformation that being a mother brings is a big one.

I recently came to the realization that I will never again be able to be truly care free. I suppose getting older has something to do with it too, but having a kid sure does change the way you see the world.

It was 6 long years ago when I was still regularly partying it up without a thought about anything else other than the present moment. I hung out with my roommates and friends till all sorts of hours, lounging in our living room, talking anything and everything. The future was vast, possibilities still seemingly endless. When I wanted to escape it all - I could. I think once you have kids that freedom to forget everything and leave it all behind is loss.

I am responsible now for this little person. And I want to take care of him better than I've ever tried to take care of myself. Every action I make now somehow comes back to him. Every choice I make now, even if it has nothing to do with him, does have to do with him. Maybe because now as his mother I aspire to be a better person. And its not just about what I do in front of him, its about who I am as a whole
. I suppose one of the greatest gifts of being a parent is that it offers you, if you allow it, to be the person you've always wanted to be, to make the better choices.

In yoga we learn that the highest way of being is to be in service of something outside of yourself. Without quite expecting it, having ND has created that shift in my life. After 3 decades of a self-serving life, my needs now are shadowed by his. The old me who could so easily put something off till later is now motivated to stay on top of things and to pull through even when I just don't want to. It is at once humbling and at the same time empowering.

One time an old acquaintance asked if I was enjoying my "tai tai" life, which mean Mrs in Cantonese and is slang in Hong Kong for the rich, idle life of non working moms, who go to lunch, shop as pastime and dress impeccably.  I told her that I've actually never worked harder in my life.

To be carefree is beautiful, it was fun for me while it lasted. But this inner transformation taking place in the wake of motherhood is beyond what I ever envisioned for myself. My heart's capacity to feel has increased twofold. I thought I was empathetic before but feel now even more strongly for friends, family and strangers, for conflicts far away. My interests lie so far beyond my own now - that there's no more space to be free of care anymore.

I'm back

So it's been a year since my last post. Turns out taking care of an ever growing baby takes up most of one's time! And without any help, its hard to find time to do much else. It wasn't till very recently that I've started using some childcare and find myself with some me time. Just the other day I got a pedicure! I forgot how nice it is to have pretty toes!

When I reflect back on the past year and ask myself if I would have done it any differently, and by it I mean my choice to stay at home and take care of my son on my own, my answer is no. Sure it got challenging and difficult. It still does. I have been down the path of questioning who I was, who I was becoming. Sometimes it felt that outside of being a mom there was nothing left of me. Being a mom consumed 150% of me. I looked at other women who returned to work, had separate lives outside of their babies and husbands, and often asked myself if that was what I needed.

Being a stay-at-home mom is a choice, although I know some moms don't get that choice and must work. I am grateful my husband can support us. I do believe that the most important thing for a baby is to be with his mother. But I know its not for every mom. I've spoken to women who truly needed to work to feel balanced. Each of us are unique in how we receive motherhood. Had I started my pregnancy in a job that truly fulfilled me and I was passionate about, then maybe I would have eagerly returned. I don't know. It wasn't my situation. I didn't have a job to return to. I could have easily found contract work. I didn't know what to expect. I played it by ear. And in doing so have only recently felt ready to letting someone else care for him.

I'm amazed at how quickly I find myself reconnecting to my old self. A couple hours here and there to do personal work, a yoga class or a pedicure and I feel lighter, renewed. Its wonderful. I still don't think I want to be separated from my son for 40 plus hours a week. My son and I have a bond that I hope connects us throughout the rest of my life. I have spent 15 months physically intertwined with this little man. Watched him evolve from his limp new born body to holding up his head, pushing up on his arms, watched him ecstatically explore his world once he started crawling, and now delight in seeing his boundaries expand as he walks, runs and climbs (oh the climbing) to new frontiers. Some days he doesn't want to venture far and must have one part of his body in contact with my body. Some days he ventures further away from me than any day before, but then he'll look back at me, check to see I'm still there.

Its hard to leave him. Even for a few hours. Especially when he doesn't want me to go. But we are learning to live a little a part. For us, this is as much as we can take. I know it won't be long till we spend most of our waking hours away from each other. I imagine myself with him as a teenager or even a grown man, and I see myself thinking back to this time. I imagine I time travel back to these days and I embody my future self. Then I watch him as he does whatever he does and smile, I hold him, hug him, kiss him, because I know I'm so lucky right now. I try to notice each moment, to be present. I forgive the really trying times because I know all of it will pass too quickly. These past 15 months have passed come and gone. My little baby boy is becoming a kid.

I don't regret one bit that I've spent as much time as I possibly could have with my son. And I hope in doing so that somehow in the fiber of his being he knows how loved and supported his is by his mama. And I hope that as we slowly unclench from each other, that our bond stays true so that we may always always return to each other with open arms.

Getting back to the point

On my very first day of yoga school we were asked the question "what it is yoga"? Besides its literal translation of meaning to yolk and to bind, what resonated with me was when my teacher Jasmine described yoga as a way of always returning back to the point.

You may ask returning from where and to what point? To me, that point is one's center of being. I know that for me, I so often get swept up in the storms of life's happenings. Recently, that has been being pregnant, having a baby, taking care of a baby, not sleeping, sleep deprivation, stressing over a messy apartment, dirty dishes and accumulating dust; worrying about money, worrying about saving money for baby, and so on and so forth. Life happening. Yoga is about returning from those storms to a place where things settle and we find a moment of clarity.

My favorite yoga sutra is atha yoganushasanam, it translates to now begins the study and practice of yoga. When is now? Well, it's now! It's always now, meaning that we can always come back to the beginning, no matter how far you may wander, now is always a great time to get back to the point.

Today I rolled out my mat and practiced some asana (yoga poses) for an hour. It has been a while since I have properly carved out some real time to do what I would consider a proper yoga class sequence. And it felt grrreat!

I've always had trouble committing to a home practice (yoginimama my ass I hear you say)! Well it's the truth, even during yoga school, when I was eating and sleeping yoga, I found it hard to commit to it. ND has been pretty consistently sleeping a solid 3 hours every day in the late morning. And I've kept saying to myself this would be a great time to get some yoga in. Well I finally cut the rope connecting me to that huge stone of inertia and got my yoga on.

Getting back on the mat is now more crucial to me than ever before. And I don't have the luxury of going to my favorite teachers' classes. This is the true test of my relationship with this practice that I regard as essential to my well being. I had always wanted to get my teacher training before having my first child. And as life happened I did get to have it that way. So I have the tools to be my own teacher. Now is the time to really develop my own practice. The challenge is exciting but scary and feels lonely, as up until now I've preferred to be in the classroom with other students being lead and inspired by awesome teachers. How do I draw up that same kind of energy in my living room?

Now begins the study and practice of Yoga.

My Birth Story

This is the story of the birth of my son, Noah Dacres, on April 4th 2012.

I had a blessing ceremony where my closest friends brought beads for me to string together and stories to share about the strength of women in their lives. The necklace and the stories it represented were going to be one of my cornerstones of strength during my labor. But at 37 weeks I hadn’t yet strung the beads together. I also hadn’t yet created my playlist that I was planning to play during labor while my husband and I used the labor positions we learned in our home birthing class. I was going to light candles, burn incense. I was thinking I might even Om my way to the last moment.

But, alas, things rarely go as planned...

Let me begin on Sunday, April 1st. It was the first day of my 37th week. I woke up that morning feeling extremely "ripe". It was the day of our baby shower and I was drained before the day had even begun. It was that morning that I knew for sure there was no way I was making it to 40 weeks.

On Monday I went to my prenatal class and finally took up my teacher’s offer to stay and help out with the Mom and Baby class. So I stayed and held some babies as their moms got their yoga on. Holding the babies got me excited that I’d be holding my own little munchkin too very soon. Being around those babies probably got my oxytocin levels up.

On Tuesday I had lunch with a friend despite feeling extremely sluggish. It was a beautiful day in San Francisco, and after our lunch I walked up Market Street, got a soft serve ice cream from Super Duper and popped into Walgreens to get the baby thermometer - the last remaining item on our list of things to get for the delivery.

Morning of the birth.
I happen to take a picture of my ripe belly.

Wednesday. My friend D was flying in to visit from Hong Kong. I had just gotten my driver’s license 5 days prior and was not ready to drive all the way to the airport on my own. So we agreed that she'd take the BART to the Oakland downtown station where I'd pick her up. I used the morning to prep her room and “nest” a bit more. I emailed Tenaya, the midwife with whom I was renting my birthing tub from to arrange delivery that coming weekend. I wrote on my blog and had some lunch.

At 1pm D texted to tell me she had landed. I told her to text again when she was on the BART. I decided that I probably had a good hour before I had to go pick her up, so I went to lie down. It was about 130pm when I heard a pop. It took me by complete surprise. Oh no oh no oh no... Was my immediate reaction. I sat up and looked between my legs... wasn’t there supposed to be gushing liquid? Couldn’t be my water breaking... Just then I felt an immense amount of pressure around my cervix. The pain subsided rather quickly and I got up and went to the bathroom. It was still hurting as I tried to pee, I wanted to pee, but couldn't. Eventually I peed a bit. When I looked in the toilet there was some pinkish color amid some substance I assumed to be my mucus plug. I knew for sure that this was it.

I paged the emergency number for my midwives, called my husband and texted my girlfriend. Our midwife Nancy called me back and I told her what had happened and she told me to put on a pad and lie down again for 20 minutes, after which I should get up, dance around, and see how much liquid the pad soaked up. I did as told. A friend in New York happened to call and I excitedly told her that my water just broke. I was laughing and telling her that I couldn’t believe this was all happening already. I checked my email on my phone and got an email from Tenaya saying she could deliver the tub that evening if I wanted, I replied and told her that was probably a good idea as I thought my water had broke!

When I got up and pulled my pants down to check my pad a steady flow of liquid streamed out of me. I ran to the bathroom in attempt to stop the amniotic fluid from getting everywhere. I called Nancy back and told her what had happened. She asked me if I was having contractions yet, and I told her I thought I was but that they weren't intense, and there was no noticeable pattern yet. She told me to call her back when they got more regular or when they were following the 411 pattern (4 minutes in between, lasting 1 minute for 1 hour). I had been so curious to feel an actual contraction. The first real noticeable one felt like–well like my uterus contracting. I even said out loud to my dog, “So this is what it feels like!”

My contractions quickly started getting more intense. I was on my hands and knees on the floor and then had to lean on the bed and breathe through them. I noticed that they were getting more regular so I decided to start timing them. The first one I started timing lasted over a minute. Within 12 minutes I had 4 contractions. Things were moving quickly. I called Nancy again and had a contraction while on the phone with her. This one wasn't as strong so I was able to talk through it. She told me they were wrapping up a meeting and they'd be coming over after. She told me I was doing great and to keep breathing through the contractions. This was at 2:30–an hour after my water had broken–active labor was in full swing.

In the next 20 minutes things started getting really intense. The contractions were coming on so strongly that I needed to yell out in pain through them. I don't really remember what I did, I think I may have tried some different poses to labor in, but nothing was cutting me any slack. At 2:50pm R called me as I was having a contraction and I had to drop the phone and yell out in pain. At 2:52pm I called Nancy and all I could muster was "there's no breaks". And there weren't any, the contractions were hitting one after the next. I was being slammed down repeatedly by wave after wave, unable to come up for air. Nancy assured me they were on their way and instructed me to get in the shower while I waited for them.

I crawled my way into the bathroom, I was slow getting there. My dog watched and sniffed me as I writhed and screamed the long 15-20ft to the bathroom. I tried to sit on the toilet, remembering that lots of women like to labor there. I did not. It was not helping me at all. Sitting there it suddenly came to my mind that if I were in a hospital and someone offered me drugs that I would take them in a heartbeat. It hurt. It hurt like all hell. This was not what I had expected. I thought to myself that there was no way in hell that I’d ever to this again. One child would just have to do.

I peeled my clothes off and crawled into the shower. But the shower wasn't helping either. What happened to the soothing effects of warm water? Why was nothing helping me? I tried getting into different positions on the shower floor. Nothing felt good, nothing eased the pain.

R and D got home soon after 3. They found me screaming in the shower. I could hardly speak, but wanted to get out of the shower since it wasn't helping. It was such a struggle to simply relay this request to my husband. But I did and he helped me crawl on to the bathroom floor where he covered me in my bathrobe as I lay on my side screaming through the contractions. R sat next to me trying to relax me. I tried to get on hands and knees but my arms got too shaky. So I lay back down. I was scared. Everything was happening so rapidly. I was relieved that R was home now but I wanted, needed, the midwives. R assured me they'd be here soon.

The midwives arrived and seeing Nancy's face was a huge relief, she got down on the floor so that she could be eye level with me when she spoke to me. She encouraged me to make my screams low pitch, she held my hand. I felt safe as soon as she got there. I remember looking at her, with probably utter terror on my face, and telling her that it really hurt. And she looked at me with complete empathy and said,  "I know it does, you're doing great". They stayed with me and encouraged me during the contractions. Having the support around me gave me strength. I was in the thick of it, and there was no backing out. I knew the only way to move was forward. I thought of my grandmothers and all the women before me who had walked this path. I asked them for strength. I prayed. Something which I wasn't expecting to do. But I sought God out like I never have before. At one point I started yelling "yes". I knew I had to welcome the contractions to let my body open and saying yes prevented my mind from recoiling away in fear. Everyone said yes with me.

Nancy told me she was going to do an internal exam. And when she did it hurt so much I screamed out. She did it quickly–I was 9 centimeters dilated. During one of my contractions she asked me if I was bearing down, but I didn't know. She said it looked like I was ready to push. I couldn't believe it. It wasn't even 2 hours since my water broke. She and Sasha, the apprentice midwife, prepped our bed and told us to make our way over to the bed. I began to crawl over with R, stopping each time a contraction took hold of my body. We got on the bed and again I tried all fours but again it wasn't helping so I got on my back.

The breaks between my contractions got longer, which is normal during the pushing stage. The breaks were much welcomed and I let myself fully rest in between the pushing. When a contraction came I could feel it beginning at the top of my uterus and rippling down, I pushed with each one. The contractions were different from how they were previously. At first I was vocalizing a lot, but Nancy told me to use that energy to bear down. My sounds became low pitched deep rumbles and roars. It took every ounce of energy I had to push. I kept thinking about the baby, talking to him in my mind that we could do this together. Thinking about him made me stay calm, I didn't want my fear or panic to adversely affect him. I knew that a stressed mama made a stressed baby. I kept my eyes closed the entire time to stay focused within. At the same time I was acutely aware of everything happening around me. I remember Nancy on the phone with Tenaya, who also turned out to be the assissting midwife. Nancy told her to forget the tub - there was so time. At some point Tenaya came over but as I had my eyes shut the whole time I didn’t actually see her till after the birth.

I wanted to lie on my side but each time I was the baby’s heart rate went down, so I had to remain on my back. I kept a tight fist pressed against my sacrum as I just needed to have pressure there. My other hand would thrust down on the top of my thigh with each push. I was so overcome by the intensity of the experience that I couldn’t relax my legs open, I kept wanting to draw my knees together, especially when the urge to push came upon me. Nancy advised me to push my foot into her thigh, that helped a lot. I think my other leg was pushing against Sasha but I’m not sure. On the one hand I was scared and wanted to retreat and not push so hard but on the other I knew that this was it and that the only way for it to end was for the baby to come out, so with each contraction I revved up all the energy I had and pushed as hard as I could, visualizing the baby moving down. I considered getting up and squatting to let gravity aid in the baby’s descent. But the thought of moving again seemed a highly improbable feat. So I stayed as I was. In between the contractions I fully rested, while R dabbed my forehead with a cold towel.

I pushed for an hour and a half. I simply cannot express how amazing Nancy and Sasha were. With each push, they’d say, “Yes Nicola, that’s the way, you’re doing great”, or “You moved that baby down so much with that push, amazing!” At one point Nancy asked me if I wanted to reach in and touch the baby’s head, I  shook my head. For some reason at that moment I just couldn’t do anything other than what I was already doing.  When I could actually feel the baby in the birth canal I knew I was close. I was prepping myself for the “ring of fire”  sensation for when the baby crowns. I tried using our birthing class instructor’s mantra of “ring of water” in effort to soften the sensation. I can only describe those last moments as super intense. You don’t feel the baby in your uterus, but you feel it in your vagina, every bump and curve of its body. My pushing became more intense, I wanted the baby out and I didn’t care if I pooped or tore, I was actually pretty sure that I would tear, I was just going to push like crazy. I felt the crowning and had to wait for another contraction to push again, it might have taken one or two more contractions to get him out, I can’t remember. I thought once the head was out he would just slide out but pushing the body out hurt too.

Saying our first hellos.

But then, right before 5pm, he was out. And I heard his cry and everything–all the pain, all that intensity just vanished. There was a baby on my chest covered in the cheesy vernix. I finally got to meet the little person I’d been holding inside all these months. He was so tiny, so precious. It was several moments till I realized I still didn’t know if he was a girl or boy so I asked the midwives. They said I should check, so I did. Our gut instincts had been right all along, we had a son.

Everything after that was simply blissful. I had to birth the placenta which took no more than a mini push and a cough. We were given alone time with our baby boy. We held him and stared at him in amazement. I brought him to my nipple and he found his first latch. Nancy and Sasha came in and checked me. I had a one inch laceration on my labia, I had a few stitches. But my perineum was intact. R cut the cord. They did all the baby checks. Sasha guided me to my first pee (kinda hard to do after giving birth). They stayed maybe 3 hours after making sure we were all okay.

Skin-to-skin bonding with Dad.

It’s been 12 weeks already since that magical day. The amnesia that follows is pretty amazing. I don’t recall the pain anymore, just my reaction to the pain. I know at the time I vowed never to do it again. But I know now that I would definitely do it all over again. I am so grateful that I was able to have a home birth. Even if it wasn’t the one I had envisioned it to be. It was still the most amazing experience of my life. I’m also so grateful that I didn’t have the temptation of pain medication and that I had the support around me that I did.

I came across this from the article The Transcendent Quality of Pain in Childbirth by Karen Fisk from our birthing class handouts:

...pain researcher David Bakan, suggests that labor pain is necessary as the only thing "that can make tolerable the otherwise intolerable separation of ... a woman from her baby." David Bakan, Disease Pain, and Sacrifice: Toward a Psychology of Suffering (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1968).

Snuggling up for our first night together.

It rings so true for me. I had thought that I’d miss having the baby be part of me. That having him be a separate entity from me would be somewhat heartbreaking. But the experience of labor was the exact transition that I needed from being a pregnant woman to becoming a mother. I am in awe of the power of nature and its innate wisdom.

The past three months have been a whirlwind of amazement, joy, desperation and exhaustion. I’ll say it flat out - it ain’t easy! But I truly believe that the process of labor and birth is our rite of passage as women to become the fearless warriors that we need to be to mother our children.

Lastly, a few words on my partner. I spent a lot of time in my pregnancy freaking out over whether or not he would know what to do during labor. He had barely touched The Birthing Partner that’d I’d given him early on in the pregnancy. But he absolutely came through for me. And I feel so blessed that we were able to share this experience together. From the beginning he trusted me to go the home birth route, despite his initial reservations. All along he supported my choices and wanted me to have the birth I wanted. He came with me to the prenatal partners class and the home birthing classes. And at the birth he was amazing. Post birth too, truly caring for me and the baby. Nothing has ever bonded us or made us closer.

Cocooning time ends

I guess I've felt it encroaching, but this morning it really hit me. I knew living in this cocoon couldn't last forever, but it was just so darn sweet. I've been so peaceful and mellow, totally content just cuddling with my baby. But I guess the lack of sleep accumulates, the adrenaline from the birth dissipates, and your hormone depletion starts to kick in. I woke up this morning, tired, frustrated and overwhelmed. Not about anything in particular. It had been somewhat of a rough night. My darling boy was being squirmy most of the night, I couldn't seem to get comfortable, and he wanted milk more than I thought he might.

But R took him for a little this morning and I was able to fade into a semi slumber for a short while before it was boob time again. But then I hold him and watch him suckle and am swept up in love again.

My midwife came for another visit yesterday. There will be 2 more visits and then we're on our own. They have been so amazing throughout this whole experience. So comforting to have. I wish all new moms could experience this kind of care. To be visited by your care provider in the comforts of your own home. To feel really held and cared for. The only downside is that you may just grow a little dependent on that care. I'm feeling slightly anxious that we'll be on our own soon. But they do try to wean you off them slowly, and make sure you're doing just fine. Plus, they hold new parent group meetings that we will definitely be attending.

My parents arrive this weekend. I've been so looking forward to having them here as I know their help is going to make life so much easier, especially since R will be back at work full time next week. But again I can't help but feel a little anxious again. I think it's the crumbling walls of this cocoon feeling. It's been so peaceful. I'm so reluctant to let go of this feeling. But it's been so beautiful, probably the most beautiful week of my life.

I remind myself to be flexible, to let myself move with the currents of time. Each day brings new joys with my son, and spending time with him in these early days with my parents will one day be memories I'll look back on tenderly.

It's so important to count your blessings. For one negative thought, one small fear can so quickly take hold of you and make you lose sight of everything else.

A week ago

Pretty much a week ago to this minute I had just finished writing my last blog entry and had gone to lie down for a nap before I went to pick up my friend from the train station, when I heard a POP which was followed by an overwhelming sensation around my cervix. I knew my baby was coming soon, but I had no idea it was going to be THAT afternoon.

It's funny that in my last post I wrote that ready or not it was showtime, because shortly after writing those words that's exactly how it went down. Ready or not, I was having my baby.

After hearing the pop of my water breaking, a mere 3 and half hours or labor followed and before the end of the work day my son was on my chest, all slithery, slimy and beautiful. Since then it's been a week of bliss, cocooned in the warmth of our home with this new life integrated so perfectly into our existence.

He is so perfect in every single way. And suddenly it's so clear to me, that everything that has happened in my life, every "right" and "wrong" decision, has lead me to this moment, to him and that all of it, absolutely all of it was meant to be.

I'll be sharing my birth story soon. Feels a bit like picking up the pieces of a dream, making sense of it, despite how short it was. This surreal time suspended, like a bridge, between before and after birth. I want to share it as precisely as I can account for. I try and go through it in my head everyday in fear that I might forget some small detail.

A week ago I birthed my son and became a mother.