My Vows 5/20/17

My dearest Caton,

 I am happy, humbled, and proud to be standing here with you today. It’s been quite a journey—one I wouldn’t change for anything in the world.

 For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamt of the family I would one day create, and as I stand across from you with our boy safe and sound in my belly, I feel more peace, joy, and contentment than I ever dreamed possible.

 You have offered me a type of love I didn’t think I deserved before I met you; the unconditional / strong / holistic love my family has shown me my entire life; the type of love that feels like coming home; the closest thing to Divinity on earth that I’ve experienced in this life, and because of that—I can confidently commit to spending the rest of my days with you as my partner.

 1.     I promise to be tender with your human-ness; to honor your dreams and fears, and love you for exactly who you are in this moment without expecting perfection, and without expecting you to change. I want you to hear that I love you exactly as you are in this very moment.

2.     I promise to take responsibility for my wholeness. While I will crave your love and affection everyday, I will never expect you to complete me. That is my job, and mine alone, but I appreciate your encouragement along the way.

3.     I promise to give you the freedom to be your best self and to step back if I interfere with your wellbeing. I trust that you ultimately know what’s best for you, and I promise to evolve my love as you evolve as a man.

4.     I promise to not keep score. The scales will never be fully balanced, and that’s okay with me.

5.     I promise to be your biggest fan; to encourage, support, and believe in you; to recognize your potential and remind you of that when you can’t see it yourself.

6.     I promise to work. There will be good times and we will celebrate. There will be dark times and we will ache. And through the unforeseen ups and downs, I will work hard—work to become a better person than I was yesterday, work to understand your perspective and point of view, work to create a relationship that makes the world a little bit lighter.

7.     I promise to play. I will never forget how our relationship began—full of friendship, adventure, risk, and reward. I cherish the youthful soul inside of you, so I want you to hear that I will never stop dancing with you, I will never discourage you from your love of super heroes and sci-fi, I will stay open to spontaneity, laughter, late nights because I know you and what you love matters to me.

8.     I promise to take responsibility for making you my favorite. You are my one and only, and if at any point in this journey, I don’t “feel” that same way, I promise to do the necessary soul-searching, ego-squashing work to help us re-align. 

9.     I promise to embrace your family as my own. Today, I am gaining approximately 13 new siblings and 2 additional parents. I promise to be an active participant; to do my best to stay connected, engaged, and open; to grow and forgive and start fresh as often as we need, because that’s what family does.

10.  I promise to always return. There may be times when I step away in the heat of a moment; times where I lack presence and awareness; times when I fail to live my the vows I’ve made you today, but I swear I will return—to you, to us, to these commitments over and over again for the rest of my life.

 You, my love, are pure light in a sometimes-dark world, and I consider myself blessed beyond measure to share a life with you.  

Photos below are by Marissa Boswell: marboswell.com

The Birth of Mama and Boy

William Jay Lawrence Vance

I announced my pregnancy to co-workers and clients around 16 weeks.

After sharing the news with one client, she said, “Congratulations! Having kids is one of life’s last great secrets.”

Her words rang in my ears. They so accurately conveyed the excitement and anticipation I felt surrounding my pregnancy and upcoming birth.

Becoming a mom is something I have spent loads of time thinking about for as long as I can remember. As a young girl I’d set all of my dolls up around the room and pretend they were my children—naming them, feeding them, singing to them, changing their clothes. When I grew a little older I’d make lists of future baby names, and ask my mom what it was like to be pregnant and bring a child into the world. She would tell me sweet, dreamy things like, “It’s the greatest job God ever gave me,” or “It wasn’t easy, but I’d do it again a thousand times to get you.”

There was never a doubt in my mind that I’d be a mom, one way or another.

Photo by Jill DeVries from William’s baby shower.

Part I

The day before my son was born I got some bad news. Several test results showed that I had developed preeclampsia.

If you’ve never heard of the condition, it’s a pregnancy complication characterized by high blood pressure and signs of damage to another organ system, most often the liver and kidneys. If it goes untreated (aka, not getting the baby/placenta out), it can lead to serious complications for both mom and baby. In fact the only case of Preeclampsia I was personally familiar with at the time was of my college professor. I don’t know any of the details of her situation. All I know is that she passed away shortly after giving birth.

So, I had no choice. It was time to bring my son Earthside, and that meant an induction. Despite the downer diagnosis, I was thrilled to meet him.

Part II

Caton and I spent the previous nine months preparing for this day. We committed to a birthing philosophy called Hypnobirthing. It combines self-hypnosis, visualization, breathing, and body toning to prepare women to give birth confidently and as calmly, safely, and gently as possible. I listened to affirmations and positive birthing scripts daily, practiced relaxation, and visualized my peaceful, gentle, unmedicated birth. I knew it wouldn’t be a walk in the park, but I felt as prepared as I could be to experience the birth I desired. I tried to hold those hopes with an open hand, understanding the process of birth is unpredictable.

I wish there was a stronger word for unpredictable. One that fully encompasses the level of WTF I was about to experience.

Part III

Right, wrong, or otherwise, I assumed induction (especially if Pitocin was needed) would increase my chances of using pain-management medication. It was obvious that the nurses expected I’d need both Pitocin and an epidural, despite my desire to go without both. Thankfully, my midwife decided to start with manual induction—a Folly bulb catheter and cervical ripener. Quickly, my body took over and labor rolled slowly on.

 The first ten hours of labor were glorious—everything my Hypno heart hoped for. Caton softly read Hypnobirthing scripts to me, I applied essential oils, rocked side to side on a yoga ball, slow danced, breathed deeply and confidently. In short, I felt like a birthing queen. More than once, I thought to myself, “Wow! This isn’t so bad. I wonder if I have a really high pain tolerance and I never knew it before?”

HA!

By the time I reached 7.5cm, I was starting to get moderately uncomfortable, so I made my way to the tub for a little relief. About five minutes into my soak, the most unexpected shift occurred in my labor—my water broke!

 Y’all, I don’t know why I didn’t know this, but apparently (in my experience) that’s when shit gets REAL.

I quickly shifted from a calm, breathy, laboring woman to a loud, howling woman of the wild. I groaned and moaned from the depths of my being. I yelled fuck and other profanities. I squeezed the shit out of Caton’s arms and neck and soul.

The supportive partner that he is, Caton held me in the tub for what felt like 10 minutes, but apparently was much longer. My doula and midwife kept trying to sub in because his knees and back were killing him, but I wouldn’t let him leave my side.

At this point, it was clear that I was close to meeting my boy, but the hospital I birthed in does not allow water births, so my team managed to get me from the bathtub to the hospital bed, which felt like a journey of ten thousand miles. Somehow I made it there, and got in a strange position—one that I stayed in for the remainder of the birth. I was holding on the bar with one hand, and was in a half side lie / half squat. It’s probably better if you don’t try to imagine it. I refused to move despite my support team’s greatest efforts.

My bellows and yells got louder as my contractions advanced. My midwife and Caton encouraged me to channel that energy into pushing which sounded simple enough, but was incredibly tough for me because the screams felt like a release of pain. In fact Caton “encouraged” me not to scream so many times I kindly asked (read: firmly instructed) him to stop telling me what to do. I knew the closer I got to the end of the journey, the closer I was to pushing a head out of me (Holy shit!). Plus, I knew my entire life would be changed forever. I was scared, and running from the fear, which basically goes against everything Hypnobirthing stands for.   

My contractions started coming back-to-back, leaving about a three second window of reprieve between them. Towards the end, I remember saying, “No, no, no! Another one is coming,” several times. My body’s expulsion reflex (imagine the uncontrollable heave you experience when you’re throwing up except in the opposite direction) was causing me to “push” the baby down without actively thinking about it.

When I remember it now, it feels like a movie. I recall scanning the room, which consisted of my Doula, Certified Nurse Midwife, Mother, Mother-in-law, Labor and Delivery Nurse, Husband, and apparently three “just-in-case” nurses silently lined up near the entrance of the room. I never noticed them. During my brief breaks between contractions I would look from person to person and assure them that there was no way in Hell I could finish the job.

They kept telling me I was so close and they could see his head, to which I responded, “If you can see his head PULL HIM OUT.”

I looked at my Doula, “This is too hard. I can’t do it. You don’t understand.” A mother of four with one on the way, she graciously replied, “You can and you will because the only way out is through.”

I locked eyes with my mom and pleaded, “Mom! Help me, I can’t do this.” A mother of three, she assured me I could. She reminded me, “This is the part we talked about. Just when you feel like giving up, that’s when you meet your baby. You’re almost done.”

I begged my Midwife, “My butt is being ripped out of my body! This can’t be normal! Please give me drugs, anything, please! I can’t do this.” A mother of nine, she smiled at me, “You are so close. I promise you can do this. You already are.”

I heard my nurse repeat over and over, “You’re doing great. Curl around that baby,” as she gripped my hand and supported my back. It was a surprisingly helpful cue.

I saw my mother-in-law, a mother of twelve, not only holding my leg, but also holding space for the wild and magical transformation that was taking place before our very weary eyes.

I felt the strong, eager presence of my Husband supporting me in body, mind, and spirit from the first moment of labor to the last.

Despite their wisdom and encouragement and a combined twenty-eight—louder for the people in the back, TWENTY-EIGHT—children between them, I was certain I was going to rip in half. And it was clear none of the people in the room understood, so finally I made peace with breaking my own body to bring my son into the world. A few pushes later, his head and arms flung out.

“Reach down and grab your baby,” my midwife said.

I reached down and felt the hot, slick, perfect life of my son, and I assisted him gently to the finish line of his first journey on earth.

As he rested on my belly, I checked his fingers and toes. Perfect. I examined his face. Perfect. I heard his soft, new-human cry. Perfect.

I looked up at Caton and exclaimed, “Our baby! Look at our baby.” over and over again.

My body did not break. But I am certain my soul ripped open for just a few moments as my son entered our world.

William Jay-Lawrence Vance was born 6/30/17 at 6:33am. 7lbs 15oz. 21in.

My midwife instructed the hospital staff not to move him for at least an hour. As she sewed two small stitches into my flesh, my son wiggled his way toward my breast and took his first few sucks. The Golden Hour, they call it. And it was golden, indeed.

REFLECTIONS

When I reflect on William’s birth now, I am so proud. But I’d be lying if I said that’s how I felt immediately after. I was ashamed by my animal-like cries. I was embarrassed by my fear. I was disappointed in my inability to stick to my peaceful Hypnobirthing plan. And if I’m being really honest, so was my husband, which felt like salt in the wound.

But my God! My son and I are so much more than following rules, seeking approval, and asking permission. We are life, and blood, and scream, and soul. The way I see it now, bringing a child into this world is the closest thing to Divine that I have experienced. And if that transformation calls me to another dimension—one where I am no longer just a human, but wild, howling, life-giving goddess, so be it.

Because of all William’s birth asked of me—he is here now, and we will forever remain a part of each other; one not fully existing without the other. He made me a mama. And there’s not a single thing I regret.

I know now that no number of stories, books, classes, or podcasts could fully equip me for the physical, spiritual, mental, and emotional ride that is growing, birthing, and nurturing another human life. It has, indeed, proven to be one of life’s greatest secrets—one that I feel deeply grateful to be a part of.

Photo by Jill DeVries on William’s fourth day of life.

TIMELINE

10am: receive phone call confirming preeclampsia
12pm: membrane sweep 3cm
1pm: lunch at Winchester with Caton
2pm: shower and pack for hospital
3pm: arrive at hospital
4pm: Foley Bulb manual dilation and cervical ripener  5cm
4pm-4am – sweet, gentle hypno labor 7cm
4:15am: get into bathtub
4:30am: water breaks
4:31am: all coping mechanisms escape me
4:45am: move from tub to bed
5am: begin pushing
6:33am: William Jay-Lawrence Vance enters the world

Hospital: Spectrum Butterworth
Doula and Hypnobirth Instructor: Stephanie Mayne
CNM / OB-GYN: Breck Reinsma and Sarah LaGrand of Advanced OBGYN

My Dearest Frankie

MY DEAREST FRANKIE:

Finally. An opportunity to write your birth story. Not because you will ever want to read it. Gross! ;) But because it means so much to me. And I want to remember it until my body stops.

First of all, you were conceived in love and fun, and again, I know that's weird to share, but it’s important to me that you know where you came from. You are rooted in Love. You are rooted in safety. Not everyone has that gift. But you do. We do.

My pregnancy with you was challenging because your brother was only a young toddler, and he was facing major health complications. I was heavily focused on keeping him whole and well, which is what needed to happen. But it didn’t afford me the same kind of time and softness I had while growing him. And I regret that.

Later in my pregnancy, between William’s first and second surgery, I went to the woods to meditate with some other women. It was one of only a handful of times I slowed down to spend time with you while you were still on the inside. I wept for the lack of peace, lack of time, lack of attention. And while I finally allowed myself the space to ache and be with you, a mama doe and her three babies popped out from behind some prairie grass only a few yards from me. No, I know! It sounds like a movie. But it wasn’t. It was real, and it meant so much to me because, for whatever reason, the symbol of a doe and fawn played a huge role in my pregnancy and birth with William. And this moment was a continuation of that for me. A confirmation that we would all be okay. That our family went beyond just you and me. And that we would have our time together when you were ready to enter the world. It was a beautiful moment. Every time I see a deer, my heart swells thinking about how blessed I am to have carried you and your brother in my body and to walk alongside you through our lives. It’s an experience I cannot fully look in the face because it’s so divine that it blinds me.

A couple of months later, the day before our due date. I started feeling some mild tension in my belly. I believed they were Braxton Hicks preparing my body for the big event that might happen within the next week or two. They were on and off, and hardly uncomfortable. I visited my midwife who worked some magic and suggested I go home and nap. I obliged. The aches didn’t increase in intensity or frequency, so we stayed home and eventually I went to bed telling myself it was all in my head, but secretly hoping you were on your way. The next day, I continued to gently labor at home. The only way I can describe these hours and days are slow, peaceful, and easy. As I write about it now, I can feel the sweetness and excitement, and I feel thankful to have had this experience with you. I was getting eager to meet you, and my midwife suggested I try eating scrambled eggs with two tablespoons of Castor Oil. And I did!

 I don’t know if it was the Castor Oil or my excitement, but things picked up. The contractions remained mild, maybe mild plus. And the timing was becoming rhythmic. I assumed I would have you within twenty-four hours. After lots of convincing from Grandma and dad, I finally agreed to going to the hospital, though I knew they would laugh me away.

 As we packed the car, unrushed, I had a moderate contraction. Dad and grandpa were talking and I interrupted, “Caton, get in the car, we need to go NOW.”

We arrived at the hospital, and were checked into triage where the intensity continued picking up. Tight contractions that required intentional breathing, but nothing I couldn’t handle. The nurse checked me. I was 5 centimeters dilated, which isn’t much. My midwife shared that she believed I would be laboring for several more hours, and suggested I walk up to my birthing suite to keep things moving.

When I stepped into my suite I had one massive contraction that flung me over the hospital bed. Things changed QUICKLY. I ended up in the bathroom. Thanks Castor Oil and Fetal Ejection Reflex. And wowzer was I hurting. I called your dad in who, bless his heart, was scoping out my situation—up close and personally. I don’t recall the exact time frame, but I would assume we had been in the birthing room about three minutes at this point. I went from zen mama, to GIVE ME THE MFING DRUGS NOW.

As Caton was drawing a bath for me, I was yelling, “DRUGS. Give me drugs now. I didn’t want it to be like this again! Where are the drugs? What the f*ck is taking so long?” It was not cute. Meanwhile, everyone else knew that I did not have several more hours to labor, and that YOU were coming.

My doula, friend, and chiropractor Dr. Britt walked into the bathroom at that moment and helped me get into a squat. BOOOOOM. My waters erupted, and wait WHAT? About 2 minutes later, I could feel your head!

I heard the nurse yell, “I need some help in here!” right about the time my midwife makes it back into the hospital room. Midwife Sarah, in her loving and gentle way, told me to get to the bed. I said no. So I wrapped my arms around Caton’s neck and he carried me there. No easy task. For the rest of your birth, my arms stayed around his neck.

No one touched me, talked to me, moved me, guided me, or directed me. No one interfered at all—and Frankie, you and me, we were in our power. I remember Dr. Britt breathing a beautiful, deep, powerful breath that became my rhythm between contractions. I had learned in my birth with William that the only way to YOU is through this strange forest of intensity. Not around. Straight through. So I closed my mouth, and I pushed with every wave. “This is NOT going to kill me. My body is NOT actually breaking. The quicker I can focus, the quicker I meet Frankie Love.” I felt you moving with each push, and that was all the motivation I needed to keep going.

Toward the very end, contractions seemed to slow, but I was so ready to meet you—and to experience some relief! The room was still quiet except for me saying, “I’m ready to meet you baby, come to me.” A couple pushes later, I reached down and pulled you onto my stomach. Your face was purple, but you were well, and I was so proud of us. 17 minutes from start to finish. In my hazy post-birth high, I kept repeating, “That was wild.” Over and over again. It was the most beautiful, healing, empowering experience of my life. I love you so much. Thank you for coming into this world through me. I’m honored to be your mama.