Panicked

          The Stress Bounty Hunters Have come to collect!!!!

The thought that comes to my mind when leaving a walk-in medi centre with a sample box of anti-depressants in my hand is "well, I guess this is it. I guess I’ve officially lost my shit. "

I’m replaying the ten question “Are you depressed?” checklist that the doctor handed to me during our visit, and contemplating whether I chose my answers accurately from the 5 digit spectrum. What if I selected a 4 on question #7, when I really should’ve selected a 2? Maybe I exaggerated somewhere and that was the tipping point of “normal” individual to “definitely not normal”. Why don’t they make you  take it at least twice to make sure that the total score (or in this case the total fail) was accurate?

Wait…OMG! I’m obviously in major denial! I’m making excuses for my crazy and that’s the first sign… isn’t it?  Don’t “they” say that crazy people don’t actually know that they are crazy? Yup. Lost my shit. It’s clear.

I walk home, head down, eyes streaming with tears, ashamed, helpless, defeated, and every other depressing term … insert here. I get back to my apartment building and climb up onto the roof and…..

 Let me catch you up! 

Here’s a brief little description of “normal” Martyna just a few years ago.

Making conversation with strangers, feeling confident to approach whomever, wherever, whenever, being put on the spot and even the classic interview, were never a source of stress for me. Nerves just didn’t usually bug me out. Let’s say: one could have placed me in the  “Normally Functioning Person in Society” box.

And another thing, I also really enjoyed the sensation of fear. I had a little mantra playing in my head all the time that kept encouraging me to face any fears that would arise, and push through them. I can’t really pinpoint when or why this came about, but my guess is that it was a combination of factors that contributed to this attitude.

Before my big move to Van, I have to say that my life was pretty smooth in Calgary. I used my spitfire confidence and landed a pretty awesome job with limitless room for professional growth. I was renting  a little two bedroom dollhouse with a huge yard by one of my favorite parks in the city all to my independent self (and dog). I loved being physically active, trying everything from boxing to pole dancing. I had pretty average self-esteem woes usually involving an acne breakout here and there, but nothing too crazy. One might assume that had I taken the “Are you depressed?” test from the doc back then, I would have likely been graded “Normal”. I was a healthy, happy, balanced individual.

And then I bet a boy. Haha just kidding! This isn’t going where you might think it is. But I will say that within that chapter of my life, I saw, experienced, felt, and had to deal with things that I wouldn’t’ wish upon anyone. It was a  time in my life where all of a sudden I felt responsible for someone else, and that person was not in a good place. It was a big weight to carry. Huge. Though I won’t reveal details, I can say this: there were some exhilerating highs but scary, almost unbearable low points. Remember that mantra I mentioned? Boy did that ever play on repeat during all of it.

 I believe that my eventual struggle with severe anxiety happened because of my stubbornness to always be “strong”. This may sound like a good quality in a friend or partner, but unfortunately I took it to such extremes I eventually jeopardized my own mental health. My obsession with being strong and pushing through everything hard, ended up being a mental rain check that my brain gave my conscience. It was like I unintentionally made a deal with the stress bounty hunters :

“O.k. Sure, We will let you be “strong” (aka in denial) and “power” (aka force) through this mammoth yet again, but don’t think we won’t be back to collect  later, muah ha ha!”

 In other words, this is going to come back and bite you in the ass so hard when you least expect it. You will be alone when it happens, it will rip you apart, it will take you by total surprise, it will inconvenience every commitment you have in your life and strain every relationship you know. And then, to top it off, it will FORCE you to deal with everything you’ve ever pushed away or swept under a rug , without any warning at all. It will all resurface at once; a huge pool of unbearable stress. There will be old scars that will rip open again exposing infected wounds you tried to ignore. It will devour and encompass every thought you have. And the worst part: you’ll have absolutely no idea how to deal. 

Because you’ve never had the real strength to be let yourself feel fear and be vulnerable. You’ll have no tools, no concept of where to even begin. It will eat you alive, consume all your thoughts, convince you that you are alone, and that no one understands. And unfortunately, a lot of people in your life won’t. 

Because NO ONE talks about  mental struggles.

You’ll wonder if you’ll ever make it through the other side of this scary tunnel of doom. You’ll wonder if you’ll ever get your life back. Sometimes you’ll be sure that you won’t. You’ll reach a point of desperation where you’ll try and turn to people you think might offer any insight; friends, family, even a counselor. And at the lowest low, you’ll just rationalize that you aren’t capable of dealing with it all anymore, maybe you need help in the form of prescription drugs. Maybe your brain chemistry is whack and it’s not fixable just by little old you any more.

You’ll remember  one friend’s insistent advice: “trust me, I have 13 years of med school under my belt. You need anti-anxiety medication. You are not functioning. It will help you”, and even though at the time you wanted to literally remove her from your house, you’ll start to wonder if you’re just in denial and maybe you should consider the help.

That’s how extreme my anxiety was. At the peak of it, I couldn’t even function normally in social settings. Panic attacks began to consume my life and were triggered by things I never even used to consider threats.

*A note on panic attacks- Mine would experience some or all of the following:My hearing would start to sound fuzzy, kind of like on a loud airplane. My vision would get blurry and I would see white spots. My head and chest would feel hot and prickly and I would go really red. My fingertips would go numb and it was impossible to think or speak rationally. I’d feel short of breath, extremely claustrophobic, and have an intense urge to flee the situation. Shitty, right?*

My first plan of action was of course to take charge and power through. I thought I should figure out exactly what was triggering panic attacks and feelings of anxiety, and make the decision to just change. That quickly became a lot harder than I ever would have expected. Not to mention, when I realized I couldn’t just press a button in my head and quickly change everything, it was a very frustrating feeling. And panic attacks went from being random and infrequent to once a day or more. I did know what triggered; they would happen if I felt put on the spot. And not just like public speaking or an interview … they would happen at under totally unnecessary circumstances, like when someone asked me a simple question about what I was doing with my life.

             Example 1: meeting my new boyfriend’s aunt for the first time.

Even though I knew she was non-judgmental and sweet, I also knew she had a strong personality and I remember thinking that she for sure could sense and see that I was having anxiety problems. I think I thought this at the time because she reminded me so much of “old Martyna”, so I had this idea in my head that even if I tried to be like my old normal self, it would be transparent to her. At the dinner table, she asked me something along the lines of "what are your passions/interests?, what would have been such a stress-free  answer for “old Martyna” was like death on a stick for Anxious Martyna. I couldn’t answer questions about myself with any ounce of pride or even normalcy. I guess because inside I was feeling ashamed and insane. I no longer believed I would “do big things”. I no longer felt certain about my character, my dreams and goals. All I could think about was “how am I going to make it through this day without having an anxiety attack in front of someone?!”.

Example 2: The interview flake.

I’m lying in bed with the covers right up to my chin, hyperventillating, crying, feeling hot pin pricks all over my body, visibly red and shaken. I am clutching my pillow with one hand and my phone in the other, about to press “send” on what would be my third and final cop out from a really exciting interview. My new friend and roommate is standing in my doorway shouting ,

“ Don’t do it! You have to go! They love you! No one see’s you the way you think they do! It’s all in your head!!! You can and will do this! You still have ten minutes to get ready! Don’t push this away! You have to see what I see and what they see! You’re incredible!”

But I would just say,

“It’s not in my head! I’m a total loser! I’m insane! I can’t even function normally! They’ll ask me a simple question that will set of a panic attack randomly and what the hell will I do? Excuse myself for ten minutes to the bathroom?  There’s no way I will make it through this interview without shattering every positive idea they’ve built up about me!"

                         Hot tears, can’t breathe, fuzzy hearing, blurred vision, body numb.

                                            And then I pressed send on this text:

                                                   “Sorry, can we reschedule?”

                                                 

 Bye-bye perfect job opportunity.  

I think it was after self-sabotaging that incredible meeting, that I really realized 

the stress bounty hunters had come to collect. I couldn’t’ go on this way, I needed to change. 

One thing led to the next and before I knew it, I was on our apartment building roof, overlooking kits beach and mountains, sun streaming down on me, everything was seeming really quiet and feeling really still. I looked down at the box of anti-depressants that the doctor had encouraged me to take wondering why and how it all came to this. Who had I become? 

My roommate just happened to brake the lock on the roof access door and we discovered the scenic paradise on the roof top; it was the most breathtaking view in the neighborhood and it was all ours. It quickly became my quiet, secret haven, a place to think. I remember looking up at the sun, looking out to the mountains, seeing the beach and feeling the perfect breeze. I was giving my self my own version of the “Are you depressed?” self-test. I wanted to put myself in a place surrounded by beauty and I wanted to see if I could truly feel and appreciate it. And honestly, I did. At that moment, my new unofficial boy-that-was-a-friend-that-I-really-liked-and-who-really-liked-me climbed up the stairs and sat down beside me.

“What’s that?” he asked

“Anti-depressants.”

“why the hell would she give you those? You’re not depressed. You are happy and talented and amazing, you just have to see that!!. You have panic attacks sometimes and are dealing with anxiety but holy shit look at what you’ve gone through the past couple years!!”

Silence, tears. 

“Ultimately I’ll back whatever decision you make. But I don’t think you need these to get better, you know what you need to do to get better. I’ll be here for you! You won’t have to do any of it alone! You need to see what I see, what everyone else sees!” said my slightly frantic and worried angel, saviour, roommate and friend, with tears in his eyes.

Two thoughts hit me simultaneously:

1.He’s falling in love with me. I can’t have him falling in love with a broken person, because I’ve been on the receiving end of that and it’s not fair.

2. He’s totally right.

Did I have panic attacks? Yup. Were they debilitating? Totally. Was anxiety spinning out of control? Absolutely. But…. oddly enough…. I could still feel the sunshine, I still appreciated that beach and those mountains, and that evolving friendship/romance. I loved my sweet diggs near the ocean,  I loved that I was living in such a beautiful city, I loved that I had the courage to let a love go that was not healthy, and make room for healthy positive relationships in my life. I loved my car, I loved my freedom, I loved my dogs,

 I loved everything around me, I just forgot how to love myself. 

Then I did something really weird. I did a self-diagnosis that day on the roof, aloud in front of my witness. It also came with a lot of honesty and a caution sign.

“Shit is going to get really ugly. You are going to see me reach some really low lows and it will be really hard, and at times frustrating. I know it may seem like I just need to flip a switch and change the way I think, but It’s going to take an unknown amount of time to work through it all. Maybe I’ll never have old Martyna back. I don’t know. But I’m going to try. I deserve to believe in myself again.”

To be honest, I’m still journeying on my path to healing. Once I decided not to run from feelings of panic,  I realized I had a lot of work ahead of me. The “work” eventually got easier, and I don’t even think of it as work anymore, I just think of it as life. I no longer experience anxiety in social situations. A  holistic approach to healing was what worked for me, which I would love to blog about next time. Having an incredibly supportive, patient, kind, understanding friend who saw through all the crazy was also really great. Did I mention he was an angel/hero? He’s also the father of my child. Lucky her and lucky me. 

Happy Mental Health Awareness week,
 

In crazy spirit, 

M

P.s. James, I just realized it’s been over a year and a half since my last panic attack! Yeah baby!

Popping bubbles

Pool test: check!

Pads in freezer: check!

Plastic bed sheet (a.k.a. shower curtain liner): check!

Prunes supply: check!

What the heck am I preparing for? Why, OBVIOUSLY a birth....

So at three days past my estimated “due” date, while I’m sitting like a chicken on her egg waiting for a hatch, I’ve come to realize a few things about my journey so far. I feel like I've learned a ton about a topic I knew little about 9 months ago, and that perhaps I’ve picked up a few tips and tricks along the way, some worth sharing. I don't want to sound like a know-it-all or that I'm pushing my ideas on anyone so I've written this as a letter to myself, kinda like 'If I knew then what I know now' if that makes sense. Anyways, the following is a letter I would give to myself 9 months ago... so confusing. Just read. If you want.

Dear Martyna,

Congratulations!!! You are expecting a baby! What a blessing, what a miracle. You must feel SO excited/nervous. You’ve dreamt of this moment since you were little, and now it’s happening!  A fairytale dream come true. I bet you’re already thinking of nursery colors, matching outfits, picnics, adventures, family vacations, school lunches, milestones, and what this person you’ve created will be like. 

HOLD IT! I understand your excitement but you still have a whole freaking NINE months to get there! You still have to figure out how this baby’s coming out! Have you seen the size of a newborn's head recently? And have you taken a look at the size of your vagina lately? Don’t think there isn't boat loads of physical and emotional preparation to be had! You still have to think about how you’re going balance school/work/nausea! You still have to think about how you’re going to do this in a city where you don’t have family or even friends yet. Please read and re-read the following advice, Martyna. It’s going to save you a lot of time, tears, and troubles if you truly listen to it.

Advice #1, The Only One: Have no expectations! None.       

You see, Martyna, though you may or may not realize it now, you have a lot of preconceived notions about pregnancy. You don’t know how or why some of these have come to exist for you, but trust me they are there. As quick as they surface, they will shock you. You'll see. 

You thought that when the nurse handed you the baby manual and said, “congratulations” that within that manual you’d find the answers to many of your questions. You also thought the manual your mom sent would do that. And the one your soul mom sent. And the one your baby daddy’s daddy gave you. And the one you picked out from.... you get the picture. Please let this expectation go. 

You think that because you are pregnant, all the mama’s you know are going to swarm around you like cushiony support offering their advice and sharing their experiences. You think they will teach, inspire, and show you the ropes because surely that’s what is supposed to happen. Wake up. We live in Canada. So many T.A.S. (Tight Ass Syndrome) sufferers reside here. Please let this expectation go. 

You think you are going to weed through all the library books in town, find the ultimate ones, and that by the time baby comes you will be a well-rounded expert. You think that because surely by now there has to exist an encyclopedia of sorts that resonates with your ideas and surely it will cover everything. You think you’ll find it, read it, and have all your bases covered, from breastfeeding to vaccines. You secretly think you yourself will turn into a human child birth encyclopedia. Please let this expectation go. 

You think you  are going to be the same ‘you’, just with a bigger belly. You think you’ll be able to function normally as you have been, will continue your classes and doing everything just as you’ve been doing and that you will just be a cuter, more ‘glowing’ version of yourself with big boobs. Please let this expectation go. Except for the boobs. 

My dear, naive Martyna, I have to burst your bubble. The only thing you can/should expect from here on in... is to have your mind blown. You can expect to change in absolutely every single way possible. There are going to be thoughts, curiosities and worries that are going to surface from... who the hell knows where for you. You are going to start analyzing and over-analyzing details of yours and other people’s childhoods while you try to pick out exactly what the parents did right/wrong. But somewhere along this path of trying to prepare, you are going to realize two amazing things. 

1. You ALREADY have access to the best pregnancy resource ever: your intuition. Or your gut. Or your spidey senses. When you read or hear advice, your own little radar goes off and lets you know what feels right and what doesn’t. Don’t doubt the validity of that! 
2. There is no right or wrong way to do anything, only YOUR way. I.e. What works or doesn't work for you is the only thing that matters. Once you realize and accept the fact that your expectations are very different from reality, please acknowledge it and smile big, know that something better is going to happen. You are going to develop an unshakeable confidence in your decisions and choices. Those little aforementioned radars that are going to surface will all have medical, scientific blah blah blah evidence behind them... but so will your intuitions!  And that’s butt loads better than anything anyone can tell/give you!

You are going to get really passionate about a lot of taboo topics. You are going to want to share the exciting information with everyone because you will assume that they will find it fascinating too. But at first you will second guess yourself, you will wonder , ‘ who is going to care about this stuff other than preggo’s?? Am I just going to offend/gross people out?’ 

Don’t spend too much time worrying or even caring about that though. Because finally one day when everything you’ve learned sinks into your core, gives you a high-five and a huge bear hug, you will feel so empowered and liberated that your previous worries of being judged will completely dissipate. And then you’ll turn off your filter (not that you ever really had a huge one) and write a blog. And within a week when you get over a thousand hits and only positive feedback, you’ll realize that your intuition was right. People DO want to hear about the untold. This will humble you to the moon and back.  Because, just like you, unless they’ve been there, they probably don’t know some of the awesome and confusing things that come up during pregnancy. Like freezing menstrual pads, pro-poop prunes , or plastic bed sheets for birth, just to name a few. And, just like you, they probably have expectations that may or may not be met in the future. And maybe reading about how some of your bubbles were popped will lessen the impact of their own. Or, maybe, just like you, they will experience the challenge of distinguishing what exactly is the difference between your waters breaking vs. peeing your pants while taking off your rain boots. And then hearing that you faced this dilemma will make them feel less crazy if/when they do.

And that’s really the gist of it. I could ramble on about the amazing benefits of prenatal yoga, eating greens till you turn green, workshops to take, articles to read, videos to watch, etc. But I truly know from my own journey that if you erase your expectations, trust your intuition, and do what feels right, you will have absolutely no regrets. It sounds simple, and it is... once you get it. Good luck!

Love, 

You in 9 months

Thank YOU

Thank you to every family that’s ever let me into their home, for showing me a glimpse of the functionality and dysfunctionality, both equally sweet, that a real family unit balances each day. It’s because I’ve seen your families’ warmth, unconditional acceptance, laughter, and love, that I’m excited to have my own. 

Thank you to every mama and papa that’s ever had the courage to share with me their trials, successes, and even failures or mistakes as parents. It’s because of your honesty and openness that I’ve learned, grown, and am prepared for becoming a parent in my own right. You can’t learn that stuff from books.

Thank you to every child that’s blessed me with insight into their pure hearts, in the way that only a child can, and even for the times my own integrity and patience was tested. Some of my biggest lessons have been from the smallest-sized people. My fascination and admiration for the children I’ve been lucky to know is the reason I can’t wait to meet my own. Children keep us all honest. 

 Thank you to for the strength the mama’s that have or will have challenges with growing their own family possess. Though I have been fortunate not to have these obstacles, I do know that the strength and courage your spirits hold is immeasurable; you are super heroes. Any physical/mental/emotional hiccups I’ve had throughout this journey are not even comparable to the challenges and obstacles you have had or are facing. Thank you for your strength because without a doubt it has rippled its way through communities of women and eventually reached me. It also is a constant reminder for me not to take this huge blessing for granted.

And so thank you, my future daughter, my biggest blessing, for picking me as your mama. I am grateful for the lessons you’ve already taught me and the countless ones you will. The journey of becoming a mother is a huge honor. I am lucky to have you, and I acknowledge that. Your daddy and I already love you more than anything and are going to try our best to show you that in everything we do.

I know in my heart that I’m going to make a great mama, but I also know that that is thanks to the children, parents and families that have shown me how to be just that. As my baby’s birth day approaches I am full of emotions, wonders, and curiosities. I hope my little family, my journey into motherhood, and my beautiful child touches you in some way. Even if it’s a small, simple way. Even if it’s in a laugh. 

Huge gratitude, 

A mama

P.s. A very special thank you to all  the mama’s that have shaped me, it takes a village. 

comic "relief"

Caution: I debated posting this on and off all morning because it’s slightly embarrassing. But the fact that I’ve been getting amazing amounts of encouragement and support for the honesty I share with you through my blog has helped me decide to go for it. My temporary (hopefully) embarrassment is a very small and very worthy sacrifice in exchange for shedding some light on very common, normal and hilarious tidbits on my last month as a penguin. 

                       “Did you just cough and pee yourself?”

So, the other night I was experiencing some pretty intense pressure on my pelvis and lower back. Apparently baby is sitting reaallllyy low right now, and that’s a good thing because “things are lining up nicely”, according to my midwife. This also means limited or no bladder control...

“James, my back is hurting again. Want to have a bath?”

“Sure, meet you there.”

*Warm baths have been my salvation... some people have told me that they raise your body temperature too much for baby and may not be safe, but I categorize that advice into my personal little 'Overdramatic and Questionable Advice' pile. It's not like I am bringing myself to boil and remaining on simmer for an hour.

I waddle my way into the bathroom a couple minutes later to find baby daddy already sprawled out in the tub in starfish pose, enjoying the space and freedom before I flop in and take over. (At eight and a half months pregnant I’m 27lbs heavier than usual.) I fling off my jammies, huffing and puffing away, when suddenly, I feel a huge cough coming on. I am too excited about the relief my back and I are about to experience from floating in warm water to brace myself. Sure enough, my bladder chooses this particular moment to disengage. 

“Did you just cough and pee yourself?”

“Yup...  it's been happening all the time. I told you that!”

“Yeah... but I actually just totally watched it happenl!!! You coughed, and then it just came out!” He leans out over the edge of our bathtub and peers onto the floor. Great, there’s even  a little pool of evidence. 

“Oh my God it’s right there on the floor!!” This pushes him over the edge. James is now peeing his own self, so to speak, laughing hysterically and splashing away in the tub.

It is completely beyond my comprehension how people conceal from each other these types of awkward yet amusing stories. (Perhaps another symptom of Tight Ass Syndrome.) And why would you? They are hilarious and deserve to be shared. I hope you agree.

Pools of laughter,

Martyna

cave woman confidence

A pastor, a skeptic, a doctor, an over-analyst, and .... me?

Me: “My midwife recommended we take a prenatal class. I’m SO not into it!”

Anonymous relative: “Me either, I didn’t do any of that stuff for either of my pregnancies.”

Me: “Like, what are we going to talk about? Breathing techniques? I already know how to breathe.”

Reasons I had for not doing a prenatal class:

- Paranoia of brainwash

- Fear of not “fitting in”

- Expensive

- Figured I could self-educate myself on anything they were going to teach me

- It will be boring, and then I’ll feel bad for dragging James along

- I don’t know anyone that’s done them, and they all seemed to pop their babies out 

Reasons I ended up doing a prenatal class: 

- Found one that seemed balanced (educational but “natural” focused)

- Decided at least my baby daddy will be there with me

- Soul mama gave me some baby funds for Xmas specifically for things like this

- Learning from books was beginning to annoy me, I wanted to learn from real people

- James really wanted to do it (I know, right? I’m so lucky!)

- Though everyone I know popped out their babies fine, no one did it the way I want to (home birth)

“Hello everyone and welcome. I always like to start the class by going around the circle and everyone introducing themselves, their due dates, whether they know what they’re having, and a brief description of the type of birth they are hoping to have”, says our friendly prenatal teacher. So far I know she’s a doula, though I’m not yet entirely certain what that entails. I’m looking her over and trying to guess details about her life and personality based on appearance, even though I know that’s a ridiculous thing to do. Hmm she has a septum piercing flipped upward and hiding... professional by day but maybe has a little wilder side too. I see the edge of a tattoo under her rolled up sleeve, this seems to me a good sign. Clearly she’s not uptight and doesn’t care what people think. Her legs are pulled up and she’s sitting cross-legged on her chair. I don’t know what this means about her per se, but I like it. Makes me feel like I can lean back into the couch I’m sitting on and not feel restrained. Yes, I am being ridiculous and judgmental, but don’t pretend you wouldn’t be overanalyzing the person you’re about to spend your entire weekend with, the one that’s supposed to teach you everything you hope to know about labour and beyond. 

“Let’s start with you!” she smiles excitedly and makes direct eye contact with me... crap. 

“Hi, I’m Martyna... this is James. Our estimated due date is April 11th, we are having a girl. I am not sure how I’ve come to the following labour and birth ideas, because I don't personally know anyone that did it this way, but we are hoping to have a natural birth at home, in a water birthing tub. We’ve been under the care of midwives. My goal is to avoid medical intervention as much as possible, and to only transfer to a hospital if there is an emergency. ”  No one’s nodding their heads in approval except for the instructor. Everyone looks scared for me, like having a birth naturally in my home is an alien concept. The mama’s in particular look like their eyes are going to burst. But maybe it’s because I’m half the age of most of them and we look like teenagers amongst this crowd. Could be that. Could also be my own insecurities. Must be, because why would I care about head nod approvals from strangers. 

“Hi, I’m ______this is James. Hahaha yep, two James’ in the class!” Hmm, she’s nervous too. Not just me. “We are due _________ and do not yet know what we are having. We plan to have our baby at the Women’s and Children’s hospital, because I am the type of person that likes to know exactly  what’s going on all the time. For example, when I go for a bike ride, I like to map out my entire route before we even leave the house. I like to have my little computer with me so I can calculate how far we’ve gone, and how far we are going. I am obsessed with details.” This is an actual quote, not an exaggeration, “ I wish my little bicycle computer could calculate every detail with my labour and birth too, that would make me feel more in control.”

“Hi, I’m ________ and this is my wife ________. God has been a huge part of our journey. I’m in bible school studying to become a paster. God, God, God, more God. God, and then God some more. Our faith, God’s miracle. Thank you God. Thank you Amy for carrying God’s miracle for me, and the huge sacrifice your body is making for God’s sake. God. Marriage, Faith, baby, God. We are scheduled at the hospital.” On this one I maybe am slightly exaggerating, only because after a while of this I find myself tuning out.

“Hi, I’m ________ and I’m expecting a boy. I am seeing midwives but plan to give birth at the hospital. We are on our second set of midwives because the first were so horrible. A lot of things have been horrible. I actually have questions for you, Robin. What is the percentage of this in relation to that. What has been your experience with this type of horrible emergency. A friend of a friend of a friend of a friend had this horrible thing happen to her... can you give me an estimated number of how many times you’ve encountered that as a doula? What is the likelihood that this horrible thing will happen if I am feeling this horrible symptom. Does placenta encapsulation help with menopause? Menopause is horrible.”

This one’s my favorite:

“Hi I’m ___________. I don’t know what I’m having but I”m due _______. I have  a doula, the same midwives as Martyna and James, and am planning a natural home birth without intervention. Up until recently I worked as a pediatrician at the hospital, specializing in births, but now I’m focusing on my child psychology practice. I want a home birth because I trust in my body and don’t want to associate my labour with feeling like I’m at “work”. The hospital is not a peaceful environment for me and I know I just wouldn’t feel comfortable laboring there.” That’s right. She’s a doctor. And she’s doin’ it the way we plan to. Ahhhh, finally. 

Though it may sound like I’m poking fun at the other couples in our group, I’m not. Well, maybe some and maybe just a little. They were all very nice and I thought it was an interesting mix of people. I just wanted to paint a picture for you, my lovely reader, at how very different each person’s ideas about birth are. It amazed me that we all picked this particular prenatal class, with our different preconceived notions of labour and birth, different hopes and fears. 

I couldn’t help but wonder why the couples so intent on hospital birth picked a class called ‘Birthing from Within’ by a business entitled ‘Dancing Star Birth’, but the good thing that came out of the fact that we all seemed to be from totally different planets, was that we got to hear different perspectives than if we all thought the same way. And that’s always a good thing. Sometimes I find hearing someone’s opposing view on a subject just makes me feel that much stronger and more confident about my own.  And strength and confidence are definitely good feelings to have when you’re thinking about your birth plan, whatever that may be.

Anyways, enough about our quirky group. Here are some of my favorite things that came out of the Birthing From Within prenatal workshop:

• The birth video we were shown of a Mexican midwife’s natural water birth at home. The mama starts her day off with early labour contractions, and right away sees this as a reason to rejoice, celebrate; not  panic like they do in movies. She calls her relatives over and together as a family, with her children in tow, they go for a long walk down to a local river. Upon returning home they have a huge feast together, during which she at times takes breaks to focus on breathing through the stronger contractions. Eventually, while in *labour land, she gets the urge to walk around her home again. She is walking and breathing through more intense contractions, and at one point makes eye contact with her husband who makes her feel like this : 

“The sensation in my womb was as though the sun was wanting to burst out of my belly, and if I looked at him it was very clear as if it was our love that was swollen inside my belly and that it was wanting to burst out.” Her husband begins to walk backwards with her, almost slow dancing, and she explains that when she looks at him it reminds her that the sensation, though like pain, is their love bursting. WHAT A BEAUTIFUL WAY TO LOOK AT THE PAIN! Seriously, this part of the film is life-changing for me. Everyone watching this film in our class is crying at this point. Anyways, eventually the midwife gets into a huge beautiful tub and says that “the professional midwife side of me knew it was too early to get into the water, but my women’s intuition knew it was time”. Again, what a profound statement. After assisting in the birth of so many babies and knowing the medical side of it, she trusts her instinct more. I suppose this is how the pediatrician in our group feels. Baby is born into a warm water world and with the help of midwives is brought up to mama’s chest right away, and it’s the most breathtaking eye-opening moment for me. It suddenly clicks... this is what I want. This is what I’ve been researching and learning, and all the while wondering why I had these urges to birth naturally at home... well now it’s clear. It’s because of my woman’s intuition. And although I’ve only heard of hospital births and c-sections, somewhere inside of me, my women’s instinct knew there was another way. 

• Confidence. The confidence and trust James and I developed in each other, and in my body; knowing that my body made this miracle, and my body is made to birth this miracle. Cave women did this with no resources, I can do this. 

• Owning our birth. No matter what our labour journey ends up looking like, we can make informed decisions the entire way through. Our birth is in our hands, we have rights and can have a say in many things that happen along the way to make the space comfortable for us: the lighting, the music, the people around us (or, in some cases, shooing them away), our movements, our pain-coping techniques. These choices still are available to us even regardless of where the actual birth takes place.

• Acknowledgment of our fears. Towards the end of the workshop, the instructor made an interesting point about individual fears. She said that if we weren’t exactly sure what ours were, to think about the specific questions we were asking. A lot of our questions were signs about what we needed to come to peace with, accept, change our way of thinking, or simply learn more about. For example, one of the couples really wanted to know percentages and statistics of things. They wanted to know what the odds were that something was going to go haywire, and were constantly wondering about other peoples’ experiences. I got the impression that they felt the more they knew about everything that can go wrong, the more they will "own" their experience. Though I understand that urge, I don’t agree with it all the way. It became clear that they had almost over-educated themselves and their minds were spinning with too many possible outcomes, and were becoming obsessed with the part of birth you can’t control, instead of focusing on the parts you can. They also seemed to have a lot of “friends of friends” who shared traumatizing things with them... it’s not like the media doesn’t do that enough. 

***Note, I will post another separate blog on mine and James’ personal fears because I’ve been private messaged with questions about them. This is really exciting to me because A) I am getting people talking and B) I want to share my fear solutions because that’s more empowering than just freaking everyone out.

Would I recommend a prenatal workshop? Absolutely. Though I can only vouch for the one that I attended, I do think it's worth looking into if you ever catch yourself wondering the following: 

Cave woman confidence to you,

Martyna

Oh yea, and a word on the aforementioned “labourland”. This is where a woman is in her most primal state during labour. She is in active labour and does not (or at least should not) care about what anyone else is doing or thinking. She is comfortable moaning, groaning, singing, yoddling, dancing, chanting, stomping, being nekkid, and everything in between. Unlike what media portrays through tv and film, this does not always entail a woman on her back with feet in stirrups, an uncomfortable plastic hospital gown, panicked  shrieking, cursing and general sense of fear and doom.

Pre-penguin phase and Popcorn

“Sorry, I don’t think I can walk the dogs all the way down to the beach. I will likely puke, plus it’s too windy for my nipples.”

*** Please be advised, although after reading the following post I feel like I sound whiney, I still think it’s worth posting. Only because there may be future mama’s or mama’s partners reading it, and I wish I had had someone to relate with when I was going through this stuff. 

One night I got home earlier than expected from babysitting a toddler that I occasionally sit for while his parents go on date nights. I had received many texts from James asking what time I would be home, to which I didn’t respond to because I thought I’d surprise him with my 10pm arrival instead of the predicted 12am. I was walking down our apartment hallway thinking that our floor seemed awfully drafty... maybe heating maintenance again. When I reached our suite at the end of the hall, it seemed particularly freezing... and really noisy. I opened the door cautiously, and first thing I noticed was the smell of burnt popcorn, followed by our exceptionally loud oven fan, the fire alarm going off and finally, the draft source: all of our windows, sky light, and balcony wiiiiide open in the middle of winter. But the best part was James and the dogs running circles around each other while he tries to fan the smoke and calm the animals. James broke rule #1: No. Popcorn. Making. during pre-penguin phase. 

I have never seen him look so guilty and scared of me as I did that night. It’s like I caught him cheating! He ran up to me cautiously (after screaming... with all the ruckus going on he didn’t hear me come in ha ha ha) gave me a huge hug and started apologizing and  explaining that he thought he could air it all out by the time I got home. I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically at the whole situation. Thankfully, shortly after James’ breaking of rule #1, my nausea began to subside, and popcorn making, egg frying, and garlic were allowed in our home once again. But it took us a looooooong time to get there...

During my first two trimesters - what I will refer to as my pre-penguin phase - a.k.a. six months, some pretty intense chronic nausea disabled me from being able to do normal activities. Right off the bat I assumed that a couple pukey days here and there were just part of the experience. A fair trade-off for creating a miracle... no big deal. But when the nausea didn’t stop, got worse, and prevented me from being able to leave my home (major loft fever!!!), function at school and work, or be anywhere that didn’t have access to a rest room, any form of socialization between myself and the world was basically cut off. Most people have heard about “morning sickness” but I, personally, never ever heard anyone experience the extreme morning, afternoon, and night nausea that I had in pre-penguin phase. I’m talking almost half a year of debilitating, isolating, can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t think nausea. And the only thing that would sort of help was the one thing I didn’t want : medication. 

My doctor warned me that if I continued to lose weight and couldn’t keep even water down (yep that’s right, sometimes even water was a trigger), I would have to be hospitalized to ensure that me + baby stay hydrated. Ew, hospital!! As soon as she cautioned baby being in jeopardy, taking the medicine became a very easy decision to make. 

*** A note on DIclectin: My experience with this drug was both good and bad. Though it did increase my drunken pirate feeling syndrome, disabled me from feeling confident to drive long distances by myself, and made me extremely sleepy all day, it did enable me to eat normal food again. Which lead to normal weight gain. Which lead to healthy mama and healthy baby. Worth it! 

What did my extreme nausea look like, you may wonder? Well, imagine you’re carrying a conversation with someone, anyone, and as you are chatting away, you can pinpoint exactly what they ate for breakfast, lunch, dinner, when they last showered, if they had a bowel movement on this particular day, what type of laundry detergent they use, and whether or not they believe in deodorant. Now imagine knowing that much info about a stranger. Now imagine all those strangers in one classroom for an hour! That would be how sensitive a preggo nose is. Or, I guess that would be how sensitive my nose was. On top of that you’re hungry (creating a human and all), but most food tastes like what you’d imagine an old sock at the bottom of a compost pile would taste like. Even your favorite foods! Not to mention, eating and smelling things often lead to puking anyways.

At the beginning of your pregnancy a lot of people ask, “so how are you feeling?”  I remember trying to gauge what type of person this was, and how to answer accordingly. I would think, ‘is this the type of person that genuinely wants to know the nitty gritty, if so, how much time are they willing to invest in listening to my response?’ Or, ‘is this the type of person that wants a really quick socially appropriate “great!” response’. Sometimes I would guess right, and sometimes I would guess wrong, and the uncertainty and frustration that followed eventually made me clam up entirely about the subject and basically only talk about it with my baby daddy. Poor guy. 

After pre-penguin phase ended, it was at a monthly check-up appointment that finally one woman, our midwife, related with me. She talked about her chronic nausea, and I remember feeling like, ‘o.k. phew, it’s not just you, you’re not a bad kangaroo after all, your experience, though uncommon, was normal.’ Her sharing her experience with us for half a minute gave so much relief to both James and I. I made a mental note to share mine someday too. Not just for pregnant women, but also for their support partners. It’s hard on them too! 

  Each preggo will react differently to their new cocktail of hormones and hopefully most don’t ever experience any of those not so fun things I mentioned above. There are so many amazing, funny, interesting, quirky things that happen to a preggo throughout her journey that I can’t wait to blog about, but I really wanted to get this one out of the way. So if you have had, are having, or will have chronic nausea, just know I can relate!

Popcorn and socks,

Martyna

P.s. I know you’re left wondering about the wind + nipples mentioned earlier... I was going to make a list of all the weird physical changes that happen throughout pregnancy but clearly I needed to get this particular one “out of my system” for the last time. Stay tuned for enlarged nipples, shpeezing, hot flashes and more!