Like the entire journey, that feeling ebbed and flowed. I had a little relief and then would be hit with another bout of fatigue. I kept following my interests, like my growing fascination around the postpartum period. To me, the most influential reading has been The Fourth Trimester. That book connected me to others like The First Forty Days. All of these resources affirmed my sense that I should trust the intuitive information that was speaking more loudly to my conscious mind. Among the messages I was receiving was a strong sense that my child wouldn't be born within the average gestation timeline of 40 weeks. For context, 40 weeks from conception is most people's due date. A full-term baby is any child born from 37-42 weeks from the conception date. Twins are almost always going to be born earlier than that timeline. After that, most first time mothers deliver somewhere midweek 41. A mother's mother's gestation history can shed some light on how long she'll take to birth. I was born at 42 weeks as were some of my siblings. We cook for longer. I really felt like my baby would too.
There are risks at any stage of pregnancy. Later in pregnancy, some individuals can have varying levels of amniotic fluid that can present a risk to a baby. Some people are given third-trimester sonograms to measure the baby. While these sonograms often aren't accurate, some mothers are told their babies might be too big for a vaginal delivery and the baby's size will influence how and when the birth takes place (potentially moved earlier if the baby is deemed big, for example).
Knowing what I felt, and trusting both my body and baby to be just fine, no matter how long she wanted to cook, I asked my midwives if I could be allowed to go beyond 42 weeks, if it happened that way. Unfortunately, to keep kosher relationships with partner hospitals and insurance companies, almost no care provider can allow their client to go beyond 42 weeks. My practice was no exception. If I do go to 42 weeks, I'll be gently induced.
I want to avoid that.
To try to urge my baby to come out prior to 42 weeks, in the second trimester I did both myofascial release work as well as osteopathic manipulation. Both help my body support my baby being low in my pelvis and in position. While no one knows officially what triggers labor, a baby's position seems to contribute to the start of labor. A baby who is still high up in the uterus is unlikely to trigger labor.
Additionally, I became fascinated with Spinning Babies, an organization that studies and supports optimal fetal positioning. They offer suggestions for pregnant and laboring women to move in ways that help a baby move down through their body to ultimately be birthed. I love the empowering information on how I can work with the process of pregnancy and birth to assist my child.
I felt really angry about the arbitrary limits placed on gestation. So much of birth policy is grandfathered in information. There is very little research. While it's an admittedly a hard experience to ethically research, the reasons for this lack are mostly unsatisfying. I love my practice, but given the restrictions they face in keeping hospital, physician, and insurance partnerships, they couldn't allow me to go beyond 42 weeks. That's actually generous by many practice standards around the country. I realized that so much of what I was feeling was my overall frustration at the limits placed on pregnant and birthing women, for no real reason.
Initially, I thought it was the patriarchy. And, kind of. But Ina May Gaskin has actually been an amazing resource in charting birth histories. Based on her research, it seems to me much more accidental. A lot of feminists actually pushed for policies that we now deem barbaric, like twilight delivery where women are knocked unconscious and babies are extracted by forceps. Feminists wanted painless birth, tired of the weight of pain in birth being linked to Eve's original sin.
I understand their perspective and so many of the other accidental procedures that followed and can see how they got quietly organized as standard care. It seems to me that we somehow traded the responsibility and power of birth for shortcuts that took on a life of their own. Perhaps, right now is a bit of a reckoning around what pregnancy and birth can be if they're allowed to be supported, natural processes.
I ate a ton during my first trimester and gained the most weight there. It was a bit unnerving, but I kept feeling hungry, and not eating when hungry felt unbelievably painful and dangerous. I trusted the physical feedback and went with it, even while I felt bloated and grew slightly concerned about the weight gain.
And then, my appetite stabilized somewhere in the second trimester. It's ebbed and flowed some, but it seems my body wanted a lot of nutrition and energy early on and then over time would allocate. I'd be bloated for a bit, and then the bump would take shape. I'd be slightly large and amorphous, and then wee one would go through a growth spurt and the extra on me would be redirected. I've still gained a lot but I can see that my body was telling me what it needed, so I'm glad that I trusted and heeded.
(I definitely understand this process better now from the vantage point of the Third Trimester. My stomach is basically in my throat and my appetite is nil. I can eat only a little bit every now and then. My weight gain has stabilized and at moments, I've even lost a little bit of weight. I'm still swollen and bloated but I drink a ton of water to attempt to balance that. I can see that my body stored what it would need throughout this process. I'm grateful that I trusted my body and didn't fight!)
I curated my instagram to be a gallery of pregnancy, birth, and postpartum images. I found life and diversity affirming hashtags and accounts to populate my visual diet with the range of life around birth. It was pretty funny-- I'd open up my account, say, at a coffee shop, and see an image of a baby's head crowning. It has kept me in the realm of wild, feral womanhood, and that has been really useful.
I found a movement diet that has seemed to work for me. Given the high dose of relaxin loosening and destabilizing a pregnant woman's body, I focused on strengthening pilates, yoga with an emphasis on stability and strength, spin, and walking. Other friends said they had their own mix that felt like it supported their health and still others spent a good bit of pregnancy on bed rest. We all seem to have our baseline point. I tried to heed what felt right to me.
I was fortunate to have the option of limiting sonograms, so I did. I did the dating ultrasound early in the first trimester to hopefully allow me to go as late as possible without induction. I agreed to the anatomy scan but scheduled it later at week 22 (some happen as early as week 19) as I was hoping my baby would be pretty well formed and visible to again, reduce the number of potential repeat scans. The ultrasound tech got almost all she needed but my babe is an active one and she runs away from dopplers and scans consistently. I had to do one more scan to record some final organ and limb measurements and then I was done.
We opted to learn the gender at the anatomy scan, so I asked the tech to write it down. We decided on a place meaningful to us, made the trek, and Kevin opened the envelope. We were outside, together, and away from the institutional glare of a hospital.
We found out we're having a girl.
That moment shifted something. What had been vague and possible and harder to conceive of in reality became concrete. An actual human. An actual baby.
Around that time, her always active movements took on a decidedly more human feel. Instead of weird swimmy sensations, the feelings of kicking, punching, stretching.
I began getting a lot of urging to create a registry, set up a shower, and engage in the rituals around welcoming a baby. Going into big box stores makes me want to die, and I'd heard some horror stories from friends who felt pretty confident about welcoming a baby to suddenly feel completely overwhelmed by the pressure sales of a store. I turned to friends who recently gave birth and asked them what they had actually needed and used. I found out, the answers were as individual as are they, their homes, and their children. A few invited me over to witness the sanctuary of life with a newborn. I held some sweet babies over my bump and looked at their stashes of diapers and onesies.
I wound up triangulating a few of their registries, which helped me identify the common items on each one. Then I did some research to figure out what Kevin and I would do: cosleep or bed share? Cloth or regular diapers? Changing table or a pad on a dresser? As I'd answered those questions, I also became the lucky recipient of tons of baby items that are only good for a child's first 6-months of life. I did inventory on what we had and what it seemed we needed and made the registry.
While I certainly requested items for the baby, I also requested items for us. A friend set up a meal train for us. She was wonderful at making it clear that this did not entitle anyone to a visit-- this was simply support! We'll put a cooler on our front steps and those contributing will leave food in the cooler and text Kevin. That way, we can continue to respond to our newborn and receive the food as we're ready. We'll set up visits as ready and independently!
We requested tons of gift cards. A friend wisely said that much can be ordered after the baby arrives-- including take-out when you're hungry and sleep deprived! Friends also recommended against requesting any clothes. People are excited to dress the baby so clothes come whether they're requested or not. She was completely right. We have requested no clothes and have basically a full wardrobe for our daughter's first two years.
I shared the registry again and again-- at my birthday or whenever anyone asked to help. It felt a little shameless, but I've slowly acquiesced to the realization that having a baby truly does require support. I didn't understand prior. I do now. Community is critical!
I'm increasingly grateful for community because I recognize the role they play not only for me, but for my daughter. I want a wide network around her. I want her to know that there are many people that she can turn to. Kevin and I will do our best to be her primary supports, but we're people. We have limits. We can't do it all. Knowing that she has many people who are invested in her comforts me. While I've often fantasized about moving anywhere in the world and starting over, right now I know we need roots. And thankfully, we have them.
In the second trimester, joint pain showed up, especially at night. I found that magnesium oil was pretty miraculous. Spraying some on my knees and calves would quiet their complaints and allow me to sleep. Similarly, epsom salt baths did the same.
Acid reflux came with a fury one night. In the middle of the night, I ran out to get Tums and slept seated on the couch. Rough night. The following day, at my midwife's advice, Kevin got me papaya enzymes. I take them after most meals, especially dinner, and they largely keep the reflux at bay.
I became very conscious, or maybe more conscious, of my own energy and the energy others bring to bear. While I've consciously gathered community, I've also been very mindful of limiting access to anything that feels unnecessarily stressful or chaotic. Kevin and I have made our home a peaceful sanctuary that supports us, in the hopes that we'll be more capable to support one another, and this little girl.
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