Oct 1, 2009
the gift of hypnobirthing
At the time, I don't know if I really even knew what it was. I think for a brief moment I thought that it had something to do with giving birth in water. (Yeah, I know.) My friends were gracious enough to send my husband and I to the class, and stayed with my kids while we were at the classes.
With my first pregnancy, I took two different classes (funny that - one with my husband, and one with my friend for whom I was now carrying her child). They were typical childbirth education classes - taught us the stages of labor, breathing exercises, the screaming ugly birth video.
The learnings were all rendered useless when my three day labor with no progression turned into a Cesarean Section. My naive, overly analytic self upon hearing the declaration by my doctor that surgery was inevitable, actually reached over for my What to Expect book and began frantically flipping the pages to the surgery chapter.
The next baby arrived after another three day labor, but this time I was adamant to bring her into the world without surgical intervention. I did this with the help of a lovely epidural overdose (Push??? Doctor, I can't feel my body from the waist down.....)
One of the things our hypnobirthing instructor spent a lot of time emphasizing was the importance of advocating for yourself. This was a very important message for me to hear, as although I am not necessarily shy about voicing my opinion on an issue, I am not at all skilled at getting what I need. People generally blindly follow their doctor's advice for many reasons - they are supposed to be the experts. And of course they are. But they are not the expert at what is going on with MY body. Which is why hearing the reminders to listen to my body, work with it, and ASK FOR WHAT I NEED AND WANT was such an important one. It was a lesson that came into play when enforcing my birth plan and insisting on the VBAC my doctor and I agreed upon when the on-call doctor disagreed with the decision. I respectfully yet sternly insisted that my wishes were adhered to. (Not to mention an incredible support system that were able to stand up for me in times of weakness. This is also a big part of the program and how it works most successfully.)
The heart of the pain management techniques were to work with your body. It seems obvious, but think about it the next time you are getting a shot or giving blood. Your instinct is to tense up. Tensing and fighting what is happening increases the pain experience. Relaxing, breathing, and working with your body can help to alleviate it. Fighting against and agonizing over every contraction can make them more painful and less productive. The key is working with your body to do what it is naturally designed to do.
The self-hynosis techniques that I learned gave me tools to redirect myself out of the experience and to give my subconscious mind another place to be without allowing my conscious brain to focus on the pain. It was incredible to be able to be in full control of my experience. It was empowering in a way that I would never have imagined. And best of all, it was a three hour labor, completely in contrast from the bloody, painful, screaming childbirth image that most people have. It was blessed, peaceful, quiet. Strong. Everything that it should be.
I have been able to use what I learned then many times over. Whenever I am nervous I have tools to relax and calm myself down. Whenever I need to deal with physical pain, I am able to redirect my mind away from the present and get through it easier. If you had asked me a few years ago what it felt like to get a tattoo, I would have told you it was a dreadful stabbing experience. When I got a new one a few months ago I was barely aware of what was happening, and felt minimal discomfort. The same for shots or bloodwork. I was the child who ran screaming from the examining room. Now I don't tense, remember to breathe, and it's over before I have a chance to feel a thing.
I never dreamed that what I went into with such skepticism would end up becoming a lifelong skill. I am very thankful for that!
Jul 16, 2009
surrogacy, ivf, hormones, and all the stuff they don't talk about
I went into the surrogacy with what I would call a hypersensitivity to hormone levels and changes to begin with. This was further supported by the fertility doctors inability to get an accurate handle on what my body was doing and how it was reacting to hormone treatments for three cycles before having the confidence to proceed with the embryo transfer. And of course the implantation was successful on the first attempt. So with that in mind, I already had somewhat of an awareness that I was particularly sensitive to hormone shifts.
The science involved to be a gestational surrogate are what can only be described as unnatural. I was taking one course of hormones to produce an optimal uterine lining for embryo implantation while simultaneously taking a course of hormones to stop ovulation. It was putting my body out of sync with itself - working against itself if you will. How anyone discovered and perfected such a process is a miracle to me.
While having an understanding of this process going in, there was no discussion about what might happen after the fact. The pregnancy was normal. I was certainly sicker during the first trimester as I was still on hormone supplements during that time. Once I was off of them though, it was pretty typical. The labor and delivery was different than my first two, but I think that was independent of the fact that it was a surrogacy. Each delivery I have had has provided a chance to learn and improve. I would call this last one my most empowering and was such a wonderful accomplishment to me to do it without medical intervention. So much so I think that I would be thankful to do it again.
The postpartum period was horrific - due to several contributing factors. It wasn't until speaking with a friend who had experienced a late term miscarriage vocalized it for me that I understood some of what I was feeling. She reminded me that my body was reacting like I was caring for a new baby, but was not. I was tired mentally and physically, and my milk coming in was distressing in a way I cannot describe. I did not sleep at night, didn't eat. The things that distract one from a typical PPD were not there - forcing yourself to care for the baby, entertain visitors, preparing a nursery, etc. I was left with my postpartum body and my thoughts. I got over it by returning to work, healing, spending time with friends, therapy, medication.
Two years later though the hormonal changes are still there. Every pregnancy leaves its mark, there are always changes. This time I feel like my hormones are simply out of balance. I can't change from one environment to the other - hot to cold, inside to outside, high humidity to low - and I start sweating uncontrollably. My skin is sooooo dry. My hair has changed texture. I CANNOT lose weight. I am frequently tired and worn out. I am NOT depressed. I have been depressed, and this is not it.
Expressing these concerns with my doctors has resulted in testing with results of "normal." I may have NEVER been normal, but I am quite certain that THIS isn't it. I would put some effort into pursuing an endocrinologist, but just can't work the effort into this venture yet.
I can't imagine that I am not alone in what has happened to me, and discussing it this week with the other mom only confirmed that. I am not sure what the next step will be. If this family honors me with the opportunity to surrogate for them again, I would know better what to expect. There are so many reasons that an experienced surrogate is better than a first timer, although I had no idea of this going in. We'll have to see what happens.
I haven't had the opportunity to be as involved as I would like in their lives since they had the baby. This is the function of many things. It's ok, and probably for the best I suppose. It is not exactly as I might have imagined that though. We are at the age that the divide between those of us with older children, those of us with babies and toddlers, and those of us with no children at all becomes more obvious. I've been on all sides of it, and can understand.
Because of our intersecting circles, most of our friends don't really talk about it in terms of the surrogacy, only in regards to the baby. This is the way it should be for them I think. For me though, it helps to talk about things. I have a decreasingly small group of people who listen and talk with me and work through the real stuff. I like to talk about it though. It is not upsetting to me. Even if some of this stuff sounds negative or bad, it's really not. They are just the reality of what happens. And people should know. Maybe someone new doing this will google the right terms and come up with the post and know a little more what to expect. I welcome comments and questions, and any discussion that follows.
Jan 11, 2008
the gift of family
The Gift of Family
One year ago today I was at a fertility clinic. I was not there for myself – I was there for and with my best friend. Seven years before that she found out that she had cancer, and that she would need a hysterectomy to save her life. As a girl in her early twenties, this was devastating on so many levels. She was just starting out on her adult life. Just figuring out who she was. She had just begun dating a goofy guy who was fun to be around. A man who knew all that she was going through and only wanted to be there for her. He wasn’t scared off and stood by her side the whole time.
I watched her as she went through the stages of grief. I always saw that it was easier for her to process and deal with the cancer than it was for her to digest the loss of her future children. Being a mother was her life’s dream. In our high school yearbook she listed her ambition as “To work with children, get married, have a family, and be successful.” Knowing that she would not be able to bear her own children was not something that she could accept. Everyone encouraged her to look to adoption, but she felt strongly that if she were to have children that they would have her eyes. His sense of humor. Her drive. His artistic talent.
It is hard to know exactly how to help someone in a situation like this. You care for them, stand by their side. But there really is no way to take the pain away. She had to do that herself. And the only thing that would heal these deep wounds was time. Distance. Whenever the subject of children came up she would brush it aside. She would say that children were not meant to be. No matter what road she chose to have children would be hard. Expensive. Beyond any capabilities she thought she might have.
From the beginning I let her know that when the time was right that I would help her to become a parent. Her relationship with the goofy guy was strengthening in ways I don’t think they even realized. They are a complete yin and yang. His strengths are her weaknesses and his weaknesses are her strengths. Together they form a dynamic force- a circle. I could see that they would forever be joined.
The fall after their wedding her mother began to not feel well. It began as a mild irritation that would not go away. She just did not get better. Soon enough they discovered that she had pancreatic cancer. By the time she received a diagnosis it had spread. It was a raging wildfire beyond anyone’s control. Her mother was a young vital woman who lived each day with gusto, with dignity. She possessed a love for life like almost no one else I’ve ever known. Watching what this disease did to her, and to her entire family was incomprehensible. Cancer affects people and families in so many difficult ways. My friend was so strong. Sitting by her mother’s bedside, caring for her. Seeing to the minute details and helping her to get her life in order. This was again a tragedy no young girl in her twenties should have to face. It was so hard to understand a world in which one stupid disease could affect a family so profoundly.
I received a call from my friend on a Sunday morning in April. She was exhausted. Distraught. Trying to sound strong. I hung up the phone with her and got right in the car. I didn’t know what else to do but be there for her, and pray. It was all I had to give. I sat with her and her family in the waiting room as they each took turns with her mother saying their goodbyes. We all knew she had reached the end of her valiant fight. She had given it all she could, but it was time to let go.
I was taken completely by surprise when she told me that she had promised her mother that she would have children. That she was finally ready to take the next step toward her dream of motherhood. It had been so long since we had even discussed the possibility. The last I knew, she was still experiencing the grief. I did not realize that she had become ready to move forward. I’m not sure if I said much beyond expressing my surprise.
After her mother passed, researching and learning about surrogacy was something that helped her to cope. It gave her a positive focus. Something to look forward to. The expense was one of the biggest factors concerning her, one that had scared her from the prospect all these years. For those who are not able to naturally conceive their children, time and money are required in copious quantities. Unexpectedly, she received a small sum of money from her mother’s estate. Enough to make her comfortable enough to move forward. She was weighing her options, examining the process from every angle. She could use a surrogate that was hired from an agency or call on someone that she knew. She is blessed by a large circle of family and friends who love her and her husband, and had many offers of help. She was in the rare position to have options.
As soon as she had declared her intentions to me at the hospital, I began to discuss with my husband the possibility of helping them. He has been with me through all of this, and considers her a part of our family as I do. His desire to help them was as strong as mine. We did some research of our own to see how this would affect us and our family. This was not a commitment that I would make alone, it would require my entire family to be dedicated to the decision.
She began working with a fertility clinic and was preparing to make her decision. We reminded her that we would be honored to help. After much conversation between all of us, we decided that we would take this journey on together. We all, husbands included, had to go through extensive testing, followed by lawyers, contracts, and more doctors. Finally it was time to begin. She and I started a regimen of medication. It did not go as planned at first, and there was some trial and error. After several months the doctors informed us that we were ready for the embryo transfer. I spent the night at their house and tried to quiet my mind enough to sleep. The magnitude of what we were about to do was more than my mind could handle.
One year ago today, we left the house in the wee morning hours to make our way to the fertility clinic. She held my hand as they implanted three embryos. Three embryos were all they had, and if they did not take, it would mean starting over from the beginning. Financially, physically, and emotionally, this would be a huge challenge. As we waited in recovery to be released, I was overwhelmed with the enormity of the moment. It was not something I was even able to express. The sunlight in the room was warm and beautiful, and we could feel the presence of her mother all around us.
The pregnancy was typical for me – a few months of sickness, followed by a few months of discomfort and anxiety. The only difference was having so many sets of eyes on me at once. It was certainly more attention than I was used to, and took a lot for me to be comfortable with.
After eight months of ups and downs my water broke and we were admitted to the hospital. It was five weeks before the due date, so the doctor did not want to induce me. She felt that it was best to let my body work the way it was supposed to, to allow the baby time to develop as much as possible before delivery. Time passed very slowly as we waited for the baby’s arrival. My friend and her husband passed the time with me and my husband at the hospital while their family stayed at my house with my children. At this point we had melded all of our family’s together in a way that was only making sense to us, but it worked. There was such a strong bond of family and community amongst us all.
When the time came I held my friend’s hand, as we had during the transfer, as their daughter was born. Despite being premature, she was healthy and beautiful. To say it was an emotional moment is a complete understatement, but it is impossible to put into words the mood of the day. Tears were shed by us all.
As I look back on all that the last year has encompassed, I am filled with the sense of having fulfilled my purpose on this earth. So many times I have gone through the day not able to see the big picture, not able to understand my station in life. But now I do. In life, I know now that it is not the gifts you receive, but the gifts you give that are the most meaningful. For my family to help them create their family was an amazing honor and accomplishment. One that I would never hesitate to do again.
Happy anniversary to us all.
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To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition;
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.
This is to have succeeded.