I suppose I owe it mostly to a disagreement between me and
Rolf, when I think about it.
Early in pregnancy I mentioned to Rolf that I was entertaining the notion of having a doula present for our baby’s birth. Anyone who knows me is familiar with my “anticipate the worst and worry myself into a frenzy” approach to new circumstances, so I couldn’t imagine going through the birth of our first child without the support of a “been there, done that” person. After hearing stories about evil nurses and non-present doctors, I didn’t want to be put in a situation where the best Rolf could offer to me was a “You got this!” approach at encouragement.
After a few months and many tears shed over the ongoing discussion, I realized we still weren’t getting any closer to a conclusion. Finally, I found an alternative. “If you absolutely don’t want anyone else in the delivery room besides the hospital staff and the two of us, then my compromise is to find childbirth prep classes for us to attend beforehand,” I declared.
Most hospitals offer prep classes, but they’re impersonal and often gloss over the nitty-gritty details of the whole experience. I wanted the real deal. After researching, polling my facebook friends, and asking people that I knew, I stumbled upon the Empowered Birth classes taught by Angela Garvin. The series sounded reasonable enough; classes to take for women and their partners to make informed decisions and be confident enough to be their own advocates. And, more importantly, not a series where the instructors are going to berate me when they learn that I wasn’t 100% committed to the idea of a fully natural birth. Either way you get a prize at the end. Just saying.
The first class didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. Coming off of the first week of bed rest and several days of Rolf attending a conference across the country, I wasn’t exactly in my perkiest state. And incidentally, it’s an introvert’s nightmare to have icebreakers at initial meetings. I don’t like attention in an unfamiliar group of people, and I was already a bit self-conscious of starting the series solo-style. Luckily we had some good friends in the class and I sat with them, but I was already dreading the first day. And as a sidenote, it was about 93 degrees in that room. Well, maybe not exactly, but when you put a woman who was hot-natured before pregnancy in a room filled with other pregnant women and their significant others, all of whom are sitting on the floor, we may as well be in a hot yoga studio.
The first class was a mix of getting to know one another, learning about the course objectives, listening to Angela, and participating in some interactive learning scenarios. I decided to come back the next week.
Early in pregnancy I mentioned to Rolf that I was entertaining the notion of having a doula present for our baby’s birth. Anyone who knows me is familiar with my “anticipate the worst and worry myself into a frenzy” approach to new circumstances, so I couldn’t imagine going through the birth of our first child without the support of a “been there, done that” person. After hearing stories about evil nurses and non-present doctors, I didn’t want to be put in a situation where the best Rolf could offer to me was a “You got this!” approach at encouragement.
After a few months and many tears shed over the ongoing discussion, I realized we still weren’t getting any closer to a conclusion. Finally, I found an alternative. “If you absolutely don’t want anyone else in the delivery room besides the hospital staff and the two of us, then my compromise is to find childbirth prep classes for us to attend beforehand,” I declared.
Most hospitals offer prep classes, but they’re impersonal and often gloss over the nitty-gritty details of the whole experience. I wanted the real deal. After researching, polling my facebook friends, and asking people that I knew, I stumbled upon the Empowered Birth classes taught by Angela Garvin. The series sounded reasonable enough; classes to take for women and their partners to make informed decisions and be confident enough to be their own advocates. And, more importantly, not a series where the instructors are going to berate me when they learn that I wasn’t 100% committed to the idea of a fully natural birth. Either way you get a prize at the end. Just saying.
The first class didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. Coming off of the first week of bed rest and several days of Rolf attending a conference across the country, I wasn’t exactly in my perkiest state. And incidentally, it’s an introvert’s nightmare to have icebreakers at initial meetings. I don’t like attention in an unfamiliar group of people, and I was already a bit self-conscious of starting the series solo-style. Luckily we had some good friends in the class and I sat with them, but I was already dreading the first day. And as a sidenote, it was about 93 degrees in that room. Well, maybe not exactly, but when you put a woman who was hot-natured before pregnancy in a room filled with other pregnant women and their significant others, all of whom are sitting on the floor, we may as well be in a hot yoga studio.
The first class was a mix of getting to know one another, learning about the course objectives, listening to Angela, and participating in some interactive learning scenarios. I decided to come back the next week.
For four weeks, we attended these Monday classes with this
group, learning ways to cope with labor and what to expect. We laughed at funny
and awkward things together, shared horror-filled expressions at some of the
videos and descriptions, and continued to grow rounder by the week.
One week early on, we started class one couple short. At the
beginning of class, Angela announced that they had had their little boy, six
weeks early. Well wishes were said and pictures shared. The next week another
couple was absent and yet again Angela announced that another thirty-four weeker
was born. By the time the next week rolled around, it was our turn to bring a preemie into the
world. At thirty-three weeks and six days, Vivi was just a day shy of joining
the thirty-four week club, but she did manage to become roommates with the
second couple’s baby until he went home two days later.
The series continued. We were the last of the early baby trend, and we made a brief stop at one of the last classes to share our hospital experience with the remainder of the group. Vivi wasn’t even out of the NICU yet, but we managed to pop over in between three hour feedings.
The class did exactly what I was hoping it would do; it prepared me for my birth experience, how to manage it, and taught both myself and Rolf techniques to keep me calm throughout. What I didn’t expect is what has been happening after the classes were over.
It began with one of the mamas starting a private facebook group for those of us who went through the classes together. I was experiencing postpartum blues, largely due to having a baby still in the NICU after more than two weeks. I was beginning to feel desperate for some camaraderie. I needed some people to surround myself with who were going through the same sleepless nights and first-time parent fears as me. So the desperation got the best of me and I posted about how the mamas and babies should get together as a support group for one another. I wasn’t sure what kind of response to expect, but others seemed to like the idea, especially after Angela gave it some extra nudging (I’m still grateful of that!).
The following Thursday we met in one of the homes for our first mama/baby potluck. I remember Panera bagels, kettle corn, salad, and some tired mamas and babies at that first get together. We each shared our birth stories, and enjoyed some food together in between feedings and fussing.
It went well enough to have it again the next week, different house but same format. Now, many weeks later, we continue our Thursday Potluck. We rarely announce what we’re bringing beforehand, other than the hosting mama, but somehow it just works. What started as a weekly lunch has become an entire afternoon get-together. We usually trickle in anywhere between 11:30a and 12:30, oftentimes the later ones apologizing for cranky babies or difficult mornings, with the rest of us quick to lend a reassuring word or hand.
The series continued. We were the last of the early baby trend, and we made a brief stop at one of the last classes to share our hospital experience with the remainder of the group. Vivi wasn’t even out of the NICU yet, but we managed to pop over in between three hour feedings.
The class did exactly what I was hoping it would do; it prepared me for my birth experience, how to manage it, and taught both myself and Rolf techniques to keep me calm throughout. What I didn’t expect is what has been happening after the classes were over.
It began with one of the mamas starting a private facebook group for those of us who went through the classes together. I was experiencing postpartum blues, largely due to having a baby still in the NICU after more than two weeks. I was beginning to feel desperate for some camaraderie. I needed some people to surround myself with who were going through the same sleepless nights and first-time parent fears as me. So the desperation got the best of me and I posted about how the mamas and babies should get together as a support group for one another. I wasn’t sure what kind of response to expect, but others seemed to like the idea, especially after Angela gave it some extra nudging (I’m still grateful of that!).
The following Thursday we met in one of the homes for our first mama/baby potluck. I remember Panera bagels, kettle corn, salad, and some tired mamas and babies at that first get together. We each shared our birth stories, and enjoyed some food together in between feedings and fussing.
It went well enough to have it again the next week, different house but same format. Now, many weeks later, we continue our Thursday Potluck. We rarely announce what we’re bringing beforehand, other than the hosting mama, but somehow it just works. What started as a weekly lunch has become an entire afternoon get-together. We usually trickle in anywhere between 11:30a and 12:30, oftentimes the later ones apologizing for cranky babies or difficult mornings, with the rest of us quick to lend a reassuring word or hand.
I am so thankful for this group of ladies and their babies.
It’s amazing how those four hours that we’re together can fly by. It’s the only
place right now besides home where I don’t have to worry about a fussy baby,
what to do if there’s a diaper explosion, or flashing anyone while trying to
put on those blasted nipple shields before nursing.
We encourage one another, share hand-me-downs, and welcome the newer mamas in with open arms. In a time where it seems women attack one another with their differing approaches to all things children-related, this has become a safe haven. Many of us do things differently; there are breastfeeders, pumpers, formula-feeders, epidural-users, all natural birthers, vaccinators and non-vaccinators, and the like, but the beauty is that we respect one another and genuinely care about each other.
We encourage one another, share hand-me-downs, and welcome the newer mamas in with open arms. In a time where it seems women attack one another with their differing approaches to all things children-related, this has become a safe haven. Many of us do things differently; there are breastfeeders, pumpers, formula-feeders, epidural-users, all natural birthers, vaccinators and non-vaccinators, and the like, but the beauty is that we respect one another and genuinely care about each other.
Thank you for the support that you offer, mamas. You’ve
slowly helped me find my way out of the post-partum, worn out place I was in to
make my way towards a less anxious, more confident mama. I hope that many years from now we’ll still be in contact and can take a picture of our babies when they’ve
moved on beyond the monthly milestones.
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