It was beautiful and loving and supportive for this woman. She knows she can call on any one of us during her postpartum days for support, a meal, or encouragement. With this event, she sealed her circle of support. None of us were there about the baby. We were all there about the mother and THAT is where our attention needs to be in order to truly support those around us. And I’m sure if you tend to the mother first, she might even let you have a chance to hold that cute new baby. ​

By Alyssa Johns, LM, CPM

I’m a midwife. I thought I knew things. Pregnant with my second baby, I was sure breastfeeding was going to be easier than with my first, because I have learned things as a midwife that I didn’t know when my son was born. Breastfeeding him felt like breastfeeding an angry piranha. He chomped, screamed, but would not suck. After two weeks of my six week maternity leave had passed, I was marked with cracked and bleeding nipples and the feeling of defeat. I decided I was done spending my short leave crying and stressing over breastfeeding and I decided to just pump for as long as I could before switching to formula. That was 7 years ago. Since then, I have become a doula, a HypnoBirthing instructor, and a midwife. I have seen so much in the breastfeeding world. This time, I was sure I would be able to bypass the difficulties I faced with my son because of the experience I had.


Right after my baby girl was born, she latched on and ate and I felt elated at the thought that this time it was going to be smooth sailing. But 36 hours later, my nipples were damaged and flattened after every feeding. No problem, I thought, I have resources and support. So I called them in. I took her to see a consultant at three days old to have her tongue tie revised. It turned out she also had a lip tie and a cheek tie which I had never even heard of. So much for me knowing things! She was tiny, at 6lbs 4oz and those restrictions were making it so hard for her to open her already small mouth wide enough to eat. I had all three ties lasered and she latched on beautifully immediately after the procedure. I felt that relief and elation again. It lasted until the next day, when suddenly she wouldn’t latch at all, instead just screaming at me. Turns out some babies really take a long time to recover from those revisions. All of her muscles were now working differently and she was too sore and weak to breastfeed.

That was the beginning of a five-week journey involving chiropractic appointments, lactation consultant appointments, pumping, bottles, and tears. Why was breastfeeding so hard?! Every feeding involved my latching her and nursing her for as long as she could handle, then bottle feeding her and pumping. I felt like I was on a rollercoaster, with some days taking two steps forward and the next day one step back. It was practically impossible to go anywhere, it was hard to handle visitors with all of that feeding business, and I was quickly beginning to struggle mentally and emotionally with this challenge. The first consultant I saw who revised the tongue tie gave me a very interesting thought to ponder when I asked her why so many babies struggle to breastfeed and have tongue ties. She said she had read some research that suggested that formula, bottles, and pumps have kept alive many babies that would not have survived in the past due to their struggles to eat. As a result, these poor little eaters have survived and passed on their genetics. For the first time I stopped cursing my breast pump and gave thanks for it and for the formula that had kept my babies alive.

I had many days where I felt ready to give up. I grew so frustrated at the idea that I was a midwife that couldn’t get breastfeeding to work. My husband reassured me time and time again and reminded me not to put that extra pressure on myself to breastfeed just because of my job. Either way, I just couldn’t give up when I was always telling women not to give up! Working in the field that I do, I had many  knowledgeable women checking on me, supporting me, and encouraging me. I had a wonderful, compassionate lactation consultant friend reminding me that it wasn’t me doing anything wrong and that it would eventually come together. One particularly low day, where I was really struggling and trying to decide how long to keep trying, I posted on my facebook page that I was struggling and asked for success stories. So many women posted about the similar struggles they had of having to pump, spoon feed, syringe feed, or supplement while facing issues like bad latches, tongue ties, and supply issues.

I realized that breastfeeding struggles are so incredibly common. These women had stuck it out and they said to give it six weeks. If they could do it, I knew I could too. So that day I decided that as long as I was seeing forward progress, no matter how slow, I would stick with it for at least six weeks. People encouraged me, but also reminded me the importance of my sanity. They reminded me that fed is best and that whatever happened, it wouldn’t make me any less of a mom if I decided to stop and switch to formula. Breastfeeding problems can feel so big when you are already exhausted, overwhelmed, and unsure. My friends wanted to make sure I knew that my mental and physical health mattered too.

At the end of week four, I noticed that my baby was starting to take more gulps and breastfeed for longer periods. I slowly started letting her just nurse and started weaning off the bottles. By the middle of the fifth week, she was eating exclusively by breastfeeding and my heart was soaring.

​The ease of breastfeeding without having to worry about pumping, bottles, and carting around so much gear was astounding to me. I had never had the experience of being able to just pack myself and my baby and a couple of diapers and know that we were set not matter what rolled our way. The struggle we had to go through to get there was rought and I do not ever fault a single mom for giving up during that struggle. Our sanity is important and thanks to our modern times, our babies can be fed in many ways. But support is out there. Every mom I talked to that had successfully breastfed had words of wisdom and support for me. They had empathy for my struggle. There is so much lost breastfeeding wisdom that we are slowly regaining. I don’t know how many times I tearfully said I wanted to give up. It would have been ok if I had, but I am so glad I didn’t.


For the mothers out there struggling, if you want to breastfeed, reach out. If I hadn’t, I am confident I would have quit. There are caring consultants, support groups, and mothers that have been there and can help. I still don’t know why breastfeeding can be so complex and difficult, but I also know that leaning on the support from others made all the difference for me and my little one.


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Wednesday morning I woke to some strong surges around 1:30am. I was still just waking up so I wasn't sure if it was a practice surge or the real thing. I knew I would be going into labor soon as the day before I started to have my birth show. So I laid awake for awhile to see what was going on. About 10 minutes later another came, really strong in my lower belly, would travel to my back and the tightening pressure in the belly usually felt with practice surges. So I practiced allowing myself to just drift away and let my body do what it was made for. The discomfort went away after my first breath but the tightening pressure remained, so I wasn't sure if it was still practice or actual labor surges. I practiced with a couple more still about 10 minutes apart. Then I made myself go to sleep so I could conserve my energy. 

Later, I woke around 6:00am for the day, but laid around to see what was going on, this time I used those contraction timers, just to see if things had progressed. So from 6-6:40 I was having surges roughly every 5 min for just under a minute each. But I also went 10 minutes between one and 3 minutes between another, so not consistent. I got up to start my day and continued to practice during each surge and I was good, so using my experience with my previous labor I thought I was still really early. 

My daughter had a doctor appointment at 8:45am and after that we went to Wal-Mart for a few last minute things before baby was to come. We were thinking that night or early Thursday. So between 7-11:30a I tried to have a normal day and planned to even come home and clean (haha).

When we got home I realized how tired those couple of activities made me so I decided to try and sleep again. I don't know if it was sleep or just deep relaxation, but I got through a few hours that only seemed to get interrupted 1-2 times an hour with a particularly strong surge, which after a few breaths I was relieved from discomfort but the tightening pressure remained. This made it difficult to decided if I was actually having real labor surges, because, well, I remember them to be painful with no relief until they ended. These were only a brief moment of discomfort relieved after a good breath, but tightening lingered.
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Around 1:30-2:00pm I got up and decided to time them again. I called my midwives office before 3:00p to get in and see how far I have come, if at all, to make the judgment on whether to go to the hospital or not. When I told them I had only been timing them for about an hour and the were pretty consistent at 5 min apart, they wanted me to just go to the hospital. But with my stubbornness and past history lingering in my mind, I insisted on being checked first. They made me an appointment for 4:00pm. We started loading up the truck with our bags just in case the hospital was in our near future and planned to take my daughter to my parents. She just got her shots that morning and a dental visit the day before. With her share of doctors, I knew she wouldn't like the hospital, so there's one thing that changed in my plan. My husband dropped me off at my appointment at 3:40 because we weren't going to make the appointment time of 4:00pm if we dropped my daughter off first so he took her and was to come back. I patiently waited to be taken back to be checked out and had about 5 surges during that time where I continued to practice my breathing, at this point though my exhales were loud and just trying to release as much discomfort at the peak of those surges. Still nothing terrible, but I could feel the end of those breaths using that little push we've talked about. Uh- Oh! They finally call me back, during a surge no less, so I take my time standing and what do you know, my water breaks! My husband returns and I got checked. I was at 7 cm! 7 cm, can you believe it?! I couldn't, except I felt my body wanting to bear down with those breaths! 

The midwife said ok let's go to the hospital, I said I'm not going to make it. Luckily they are just across the parking lot so she pushed me in a wheel chair surpassed the ER, they were asking if we registered, she responded we don't have time for that and I'm feeling like I have to take a poop now! We get to a room, nurses are asking what I want, if they need to give me an IV? So after a surge I told them I'm going natural and directed them to my birth plan in my purse. The attending midwife, after learning I was practicing HypnoBirthing and knowing how far I was, just stood off to the side and directed me to continue to listen to my body and ignore everything going on around me. (Putting the sensirs on my belly etc.) A few, not very graceful, surges later my son was born! I tried in those last moments to use the breathing we practiced but my body wanted more and there was some grunting and feeling like I had a really big bowel movement to pass, luckily it was only my little boy! 

My husband announced the sex with such excitement and we all shared a tear of happiness and relief on my end! 
Oh and my mom had made it in just as I could feel my baby's head about to crown! 
I knew this was possible and just as the author of the book knew that the birth of a baby was meant to be a beautiful thing, I have always wanted that and long before kids I knew I wanted a natural birth with no meds. I was very unprepared for the birth of my daughter but still knew it was possible. I am so thankful I found you and your class because it allowed me to have the birth I wanted and to trust and allow my body to do what it was perfectly made for.

Everywhere I look, including my own home, I see mothers struggling. Exhausted, depressed, anxious, at their wit’s end. I hear the words “How you feel right now is normal. Most moms feel this way.” And while I agree that these feelings are the norm, I’m not sure I agree that they’re normal. The more I read about postpartum practices in other cultures, I see quotes from different studies about how postpartum mood disorders, including the expected baby blues, are practically non-existent in cultures that have strong postpartum traditions that care for the mother. These cultures recognize and honor that it is the mother that needs to be nurtured by the community during the postpartum period. She is expected to rest and bond with her baby while everyone else takes care of everything else. Not only do they take care of the household needs and other children, they nurture this new mother, bringing her healthy nourishing foods, teas, providing daily body massage, herbal baths, the works. The extreme life change and physical changes that motherhood brings are recognized and cared for. They do not look at this type of care as a luxury, but as a necessity to bring healing and vitality to the mother after all her body has been through. They recognize that a thriving mother equals a thriving family. 

Now what do we do here in the United States? Families often receive support in many ways. Meals are brought or sent over, visitors come by to help with the baby, families show up and often help with other children and housekeeping. However, nurturing the mother is rarely the primary focus from the stories I hear. Often I hear new mothers say they have been overwhelmed with visitors, or that they didn’t know how to get visitors to leave sooner so they could get the rest they needed. They watched visitors hold their crying baby wishing they could have some time alone to work on establishing breastfeeding. They watched visitors hold their sleeping baby, wishing they could be sleeping too instead of entertaining visitors. The meals brought, while helpful, are often fast foods or foods not often eaten by the mother so they could actually cause some gastrointestinal discomfort which is more likely immediately postpartum. This was highlighted for me when I received a phone call from a postpartum mom with shooting pains in her belly. After running through her symptoms and ruling out anything serious, we came to conclude that the problem was just gas and constipation, likely due to all the fried and unhealthy foods well-meaning friends had been dropping off for her. All of these families want to help, the problem is that our culture has lost the wisdom of how to truly care for mothers in the postpartum period.

We live in a world of efficiency and productivity. Postpartum mothers struggle to slow down, rest, and be ok with not being productive. They may have only a short window of six weeks or sometimes less before they are expected to be back to work. Many countries have paid maternity leave, sometimes for as long as up to a year. Imagine how much more our mothers could rest and take care of themselves and their babies if they weren’t up against a clock.

With my first baby I had six weeks of unpaid maternity leave. I quit breastfeeding after 2 weeks of  struggling to get through the rough patches because I knew I was going to have to pump when I returned to work anyway. I didn’t want to spend my whole maternity leave struggling to bond with my baby while we stressed over eating, so I skipped the breast and went straight for the pump for the next several months. With my second baby, I had eight weeks of unpaid maternity leave, but would be taking her to work with me for several months. We spent six hard weeks getting breastfeeding to work and at the six week mark, I marveled at the thought that most moms were returning to work at this point because breastfeeding was just finally smoothing out. It makes perfect sense why so many moms give up on breastfeeding. We just don’t have time to give it a fair chance before returning to work. And with both babies, my return to work also signaled the beginning of a period of depression and anxiety. It’s no wonder as it is so difficult learning to balance the demands of a newborn with work and pumping, all while being sleep deprived.

So yes, these feelings of loneliness, overwhelm, exhaustion, inadequacy, depression, anxiety, fear, hopelessness are all common, but I don’t buy into the idea that they are normal. I think we are feeling these things because our culture is missing the mark in a big way when it comes to caring for mothers. We are missing a village and we have lost the wisdom of how to nurture new mothers. I often day dream about living in a little village where all the kids are just running around and all the moms are hanging out together caring for the babies and supporting the new mothers. I think we struggle so hard partially because we are so isolated. Living in a big city, my closest friends and family are at least a fifteen to thirty minute drive away. I don’t know any of my neighbors, because I have moved so many times. I imagine how different life would be if I could just walk out my front door to talk to another mom friend when I need to not be alone with my baby all day. Our society is not set up in a way that supports families.

The best shot at a solution I have found was when reading the book Seven Sisters for Seven Days: The Mothers’ Manual for Community-Based Postpartum Care. In it, the author Michelle Peterson talks about preparing for postpartum by setting up seven people to help care for the mother in the six weeks after the baby arrives. These people are set up in advance with the intention of nurturing the mother. Each person volunteers to take one day a week for six weeks to bring a meal, do a chore for the mother, or serve the mother in some way. They are not there to hold the baby or chat with the mom. They expect that some days they might not even see the mother or the baby as they are intended to be in bed resting often.  This set up makes it effortless for the mother as she is not having to ask for anything. People are readily checking in with her and have a plan for how to support her before she is in the depths of postpartum struggles.

One thing people keep telling me during my postpartum period is to ask for help, but if you have ever been in the throes of depression, you know that reaching out for anything feels nearly impossible. And while I might ask someone to help watch my kids, I would find it extremely difficult to ask someone to come over and make me a specific meal, clean my house, or make me some tea while I’m resting in bed with my baby even though at times those were the very things that would have helped me the most. In countries where postpartum rituals are a part of the culture, these mothers aren’t having to reach out and ask for things, those things are being readily brought to them by neighbors, family and friends, because part of the cultural belief is that mothers need to be nurtured so that they can nurture the baby. That is not our current cultural belief, so it has to be set up intentionally in order for it to become a regular part of our postpartum lives. The mothers I have talked to that set up the Seven Sisters in advance had a postpartum period that they described as healing and nurturing. Those aren’t words I usually hear used to describe this difficult period of time. These mothers had learned something very important: just because they could do some of these tasks themselves doesn’t mean that they should.
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I am a midwife that has grown weary of seeing so many mothers struggle quietly, thinking that is just the way it has to be. It’s not the way it has to be and I am working in my practice to promote a change in how my clients experience postpartum.  My hope is that we can help mothers thrive during their postpartum days instead of just surviving them. 

All photo credits: Alyssa Leon at Cherry Blossom Doula Services

When your baby is a miracle you were not expecting….
 
“Come in here with me while I pee on this stick,” I said to Sean. “You’re taking a pregnancy test?” He said with a “you’re crazier than I thought” look on his face. “Yeah. I know it seems silly, but I’m 6 days late and I’m never that late, so I just need to rule it out for my sanity.” He shrugged and followed me into the bathroom, sitting on the counter and skimming Instagram on his phone while I took a pregnancy test. It immediately showed the tell-tale plus sign. “I’m pregnant.” I said, feeling like I had known all along, but just couldn’t believe it could be possible. “What!?” Sean looked up quickly, “How do you know?!” I showed him the test and we proceeded to stare at each other in shock and disbelief and, well, we really didn’t know how to feel. I took 4 more tests. They were all quick positives. There was excitement, and a fear to let ourselves be excited, and just complete surprise.

Sean was diagnosed with leukemia before I met him, he had a stem cell transplant and tons of chemo and was told he would most likely not be able to have children. I had recently been told I had cysts on my ovaries and that I would need to go on fertility meds if I wanted to get pregnant. We had talked about our options in the past from adoption to sperm donor to seeing a specialist to talk about our options. Many times we had said we wanted to have a baby together, we wished we could, but we just weren’t sure it was in the cards for us. Sean was tested in January and found out that he had a low sperm count with only 5% motility, meaning 95% of his swimmers don’t swim upstream. With stats like that, he was considered infertile. He started taking some herbs that he had read could increase his count. We talked about seeing a specialist in a few months to see if we had any options we could afford, but life got busy and the baby talk was set to the side to be revisited later on.  After my doctor’s appointment about my cysts, I started taking tons of herbs to try to re-balance my hormones, even though my provider looked me square in the eye, said I needed to go on birth control and said, “Your herbs won’t work for this.” Yet, 2 months after both of us started taking herbs, here I was, pregnant. There was also one wild midwife birth circle 2 months before I got pregnant where some midwives danced around me singing a fertility song after I mentioned our wish to have a baby. These beautiful women sang, held my hands, and howled at the moon. So who knows what worked, but Sean and I had never done anything to avoid pregnancy during our relationship and now here we were.

It seemed completely unreal and I spent much of my first trimester worrying that there was no way this could be a viable pregnancy, that there was no way this baby could really be a real live growing baby. But my increasing level of nausea and vomiting said otherwise. This was for real.

Sean and I just kept looking at each other for days, unsure what to think or say or do. Afraid that we might unravel this event if we shared our news or got too excited. I said over and over, “I can’t believe I’m pregnant!  What are the chances?!” Sean kept saying, “I feel like this is a dream, it can’t be real.” He had accepted the fact that he would never father a child of his own, that any child he raised wouldn’t be his biologically.
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When we did begin telling our friends, they all said, “What?  How?! Is it Sean’s?” The old fashioned way, people, just the regular old fashioned way. And yes, it’s Sean’s, thanks guys. And now at 14 weeks of pregnancy, we are through the window where our risk for miscarriage is highest. We have seen our baby wave its tiny little hands on ultrasound. We have seen and heard its heart beat. I have seen the enormous, unstoppable smile on Sean’s face as he watched his baby wiggle on the ultrasound machine and as he goes to every appointment with me. It’s starting to feel a little more real. Even now though, we still say pretty often, “I can’t believe we are having a baby.” This little baby is a miracle we will never stop saying “thank you” for. 

​Okay mamas, raise your right hand and repeat after me, “I will not use Google, Facebook groups, or mommy forums to get information about my pregnancy symptoms and birth fears.” Now, please, put your hand down, settle in, and hear me out.

I have recently seen first-hand the craze and flurry of activity following a simple question like, “My ultrasound said my baby is 9 pounds, will I need a c-section?” These threads turn into an all out free for all of scary stories of doom, gloom, and emergencies. Misinformed advice is flowing. I get it, we all want to share our stories, we all love giving advice. And as a fellow lover of advice giving, my advice to you is this: Please don’t fall into that internet story swapping trap. It will most likely do nothing but terrify you!  The answers I saw to the above question ranged from “I birthed a 10 pound baby and didn’t tear,” to “Not to scare you, but I tore so bad with a 6 pound baby, good luck with a 9 pound baby!” to “Absolutely, get a c-section and save yourself a labor that won’t work anyway! I labored for 47 hours with a 9 pound baby and ended up in a c-section.” So do any of these answers actually provide this mother with any facts? Do they give her any risk factors or medical information at all? They don’t. By the end of this thread, this mama was not better off than when she asked her question. She was most likely more confused and fearful.

We all have questions. Pregnancy is not something we experience often in life, and it comes along with many surprising symptoms for almost every woman. We automatically turn to other women who have been there and done this. The problem is, stories told are based on some misinformation or missing information. Medical providers don’t typically take the time to really sit down and make sure you understand everything from the reasons, to the causes, to the risks and benefits, to the alternatives of each thing that happens in your pregnancy and labor. So we fill in the gaps and share our stories that aren’t always fully informed. And even if we are fully informed, just because one mama struggled to birth a 9 pound baby, does not mean that another mama will. We apply our experiences across the board and pregnancy and labor are really not one size fits all. A mother who struggled to birth a 9 pound baby could have had so many factors play into the events of that labor. Was the baby in an ideal position? Was she induced or did she go into labor naturally? How long was she given to allow her baby to move down? How was the baby handling labor? What position was the mom in for birthing? All of these factors can have an effect on how our births go, so blanket statements just do not work.
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So where do we send these questions? Step away from the mommy forums, close the search engines. Start with getting informed by people who have spent years researching topics in this field. I would start with your medical provider. If your medical provider doesn’t happily field your questions until you feel adequately comfortable with the answers and your options, I would recommend you find another provider. Another wonderful option is a doula. Doulas are an amazing resource for a pregnant mom and they almost always truly enjoy answering your questions and researching on your behalf to find you the information you need. They will filter through the nonsense and get you the facts. There are even virtual doulas available at a cheaper price if you are just wanting someone who will field your questions via phone or text. Pregnancy books can be a great resource as well and there are plenty of great ones out there. Just put your phone down, unless it’s to call your provider or doula, and take a deep breath. You’ve got this, mama!

Every year at this time, I replay the day my son was born. There is no memory ingrained in my mind as well as the events of that day and it's no wonder that women carry those feelings and memories so strongly. It's pivotal, emotional, and life changing. 
That day, I woke up around 3:00 am with a back ache that was coming and going, waking me up, and I suddenly realized, "I think those are contractions!" They were mild throughout the day, coming and going in no particular pattern. I went for walks, getting shout outs from the neighbors about the size of my belly. I watched funny movies, ate pizza, bounced on a birth ball. I could tell something had changed, but it had definitely not fully kicked in. Late in the afternoon my midwife advised me to take a Benadryl and try to get some rest, so I did. And one hour later I woke up with a start to some strong contractions coming every 4 minutes. We called for the midwife and she got there around 6:00 pm. I remember her looking surprised when she saw how short the space was between my contractions as she listened to for my baby’s heart rate.  I remember sitting on the floor, my husband talking me through a guided relaxation as my water broke. Things picked up quickly from there. I got in the tub and hummed my way through every surge, trying to stay out of the way of my body as it worked and repeating to myself "A woman in a coma can have a baby." I spent most of my time kneeling or squatting and suddenly I needed some help. I wasn't getting a break and things were so strong. My midwife checked me and said I was 10 cm and I could try pushing. I tried to push in the tub, but it didn't feel like it was working and I remember thinking "I made it this far, what if I can't push out my baby?" I got out of the tub and sat on the toilet where I pushed my hands against the walls on either side of me, bracing myself against the intense pressure I was feeling. "I don't think I can do this. I don't want to do this!" My midwife said "You are doing this, you've got this." I will never forget how her face looked at me like there wasn't a doubt in her mind that I could do this. That moment of doubt passed quickly as I was again lost in the task at hand. I got up and walked to my bed and squatted down next to it. Boom, I felt my baby's head move down low with that squat and suddenly I felt ready to push. I got up on the bed, lying on my side and 20 minutes later, at 9:25 pm, my baby was next to me, pink, crying, tiny, and beautiful. He was crowning and then flew out into the hands of my midwife in one tiny push. She had said to only give tiny pushes as he crowned, but I didn't even get a chance. He just flew out. And he has been flying around at that speed ever since. 
I will never forget the words I heard the midwives say while I was pushing. I heard one say to the other, "She's so strong." And suddenly, that's the type of woman I was in my mind. 
I had my baby, on my bed, in my house, with  nothing but the sheer force of my own body. I saw my strength that day and from then on, I never stopped feeling the certainty of what I am capable of. 
My birth story is about my baby. It's also about me. That's why our stories are so important. That's why birth matters so much. That's why the words we say to women while they are at their strongest, but also their most vulnerable are so critically important.