Birthing the unknown

The day finally came. After over 280 days of nourishing the growing baby in my belly, the time came for the inception of his passage into the world.

The beginning of my baby’s passage into the world was marked by the trickle of amniotic fluid out of my body and onto my bed. My water broke shortly after 11pm on Monday, March 12. I was not having regular contractions, only weak Braxton Hicks-type contractions.

We called the delivery ward and a nurse invited us to come in to check on the baby’s status. We gathered the bags we packed for the hospital, just in case, and we headed for the hospital. I continued to lose amniotic fluid, but I noticed it was stained with meconium, the baby’s first bowel movement. At one point I stood up in the examination room and a contraction pushed a gush of amniotic fluid out of me and onto my socks and the floor. I pointed out the greenish color and the doctor in the room said we would be staying at the hospital, instead of going home and coming back in the morning, which would have been the case if meconium was not staining the amniotic fluid.

At around 2am, the hospital personnel showed us to our room in the delivery ward. We were exhausted, and yet it was very difficult for us to sleep in a hospital room. I’m a light sleeper. The clock made really loud sounds, the bed was uncomfortable, and then there were the blood-curdling screams coming from a woman in the throes of labor next door. I slept about 20 minutes in total. My partner slept perhaps an hour or two. I was not hooked up to any equipment to monitor the baby. There was essentially no reason for us to be there.
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The meaning of pain

The other night I started to have extreme pain in my abdomen. I couldn’t find a comfortable sitting or lying position and walking was out of the question. I knew that I was not having labor contractions because those are short-lived and I was experiencing near-constant pain. I started to wonder if the pain meant something terrible was happening in my uterus, for example, if my placenta was becoming detached. And then I decided to clear my mind of what the pain could “mean” and to really focus on my body.

With mindful attention, I felt that the pain was not in my uterus, it seemed to be behind my uterus. I decided to experiment with more positions, including some Yoga poses. When I went on my hands and knees, I felt immediate relief, and then the cause of the pain was clear to me. A lot of gas was caught in my squished and shortened intestines (my colon was surgically removed in 2002). I remembered that I’ve felt similar pain during colonoscopy procedures in which air is pumped into the intestines (to ensure the scope does not puncture them). (I usually choose not to be sedated during these procedures.)

I had to temporarily let go of my drive to make meaning of the pain in order to discover the actual cause of my pain, and subsequent relief.
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Accepting the challenges we’d rather avoid

“A further sign of health is that we don’t become undone by fear and trembling, but we take it as a message that it’s time to stop struggling and look directly at what’s threatening us.” ~ Pema Chödrön

“The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.” ~ Joseph Campbell

It’s December 31st and I have decided on but one aspiration for the New Year: to see difficult feelings and situations as opportunities to learn about myself and go beyond my comfort zone; in other words, to grow.

It’s easier to stay in the comfort zone and distract myself with projects and leisure activities, and yet I know that staying in the comfort zone of distractions and self-delusion contributes to a sense of complacency, of doing the same things again and again and expecting different results (the definition of insanity for some people).

No matter how much I might wish for things to be otherwise, there will always be challenges in my life. I will give birth to a baby boy in 2012. There’s no easy way to deliver a baby or to adjust to being a new parent. And pregnancy has not been easy since I’ve had symphysis pubis dysfunction and restless leg syndrome among other pregnancy-related ailments.

For many women, pregnancy is the first major physical challenge they face in their lives. For me, pregnancy is the first major physical challenge that I willingly chose to undergo. After years of living with chronic illness and pain, I have developed a “toolbox” of coping strategies, learned to navigate medical systems, and learned to advocate for myself. I know where to find credible medical information on the Internet. I know how to make sense of contradictory medical opinions. And I know how to take care of myself when I feel like crap. So I’m applying what I learned from living with Crohn’s colitis and chronic pain, but pregnancy still challenges me.
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The one thing I like about pain

Just to be clear, I’m not a masochist or a sadist or anything like that. I curse as much as the next guy/gal when I have high levels of pain. But I also see that pain has a redeeming feature: it pushes me to shut off the never-ending discourse in my mind and listen to my body, if only for seconds at a time.

When last I wrote, I was sick with a chest cold. It took a month for my body to fight that dreadful cold virus, and I thank my lucky stars I didn’t get bronchitis. I wrote that I couldn’t take any meds for the cold virus. Now here is the reason:

I’m pregnant!

Today marks five months exactly that I have been on the journey of being pregnant. It is a wonderful and challenging journey. It seems that just about every week I have another pregnancy-related ailment with which to contend. About a month ago I started to have a lot of pain in my butt. It was keeping me from getting a good night’s sleep and the intensity had me almost in tears. I suspected it could be sacroiliac joint dysfunction so I visited my physical therapist. She confirmed my suspicion and gave me some tips for reducing the pain: walking like Charlie Chaplin, sleeping with three (yes three) pillows between my knees, and sitting with my knees far apart. Within a few days, the pain subsided substantially, and I am really thankful for that, but I’m also thankful for being highly attuned to my body because of the pain.

How often do we really sink into the everyday sensations of sitting, standing, walking, and rolling in or out of bed? I have practiced mindfulness meditation for over a decade and yet I am often not present to the minute sensations that occur while I’m carrying out these basic movements. When the sacroiliac joint pain was intense, I was fully aware of every slight feeling involved in each movement: lifting a foot, the shift of weight from one foot to the other, balancing, swinging my legs off the bed and touching the soles of my feet to the floor, and the “apex” of sitting in which I let go and trust that the couch or chair would support my bottom. How often do I take these movements for granted?
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“Never give up”

“No matter what is going on
Never give up
Develop the heart…”

H.H. the 14th Dalai Lama (to read the rest of the poem, click here)

Earlier this week, someone found this blog by typing in the search terms “severe chronic pelvic pain=want to die.” I don’t know who this person was but I felt deep sorrow when I read those words. I thought about how many others there are out there who feel the same way but did not type in the search terms into Google. It made me determined to do something, even if that person never returns to read my blog. There are a lot of people suffering tremendously from medical conditions like pelvic pain and they can’t really talk about their pain and suffering much with others. I’ve been there. I know it is hard.

I’ve written about the severe depression that I went through in 2001, but I didn’t go into great depth about the details of my story.

As I wrote in the earlier entry, I had just survived a life-threatening episode of Crohn’s colitis and I was living with my family in Indiana. I was on disability and was in a lot of physical pain and discomfort.

The doctors in the hospital had never seen a case like mine before. At first, I was a “mystery of science” patient but careful “Dr. House”-like sleuthing showed that it was inflammatory bowel disease in combination with a virus and a bacteria from antibiotics (c. difficile) that had nearly pulverized my intestines. While I was in the hospital, the doctors said that they had only read of similar cases in the medical literature and that in all those cases the patients were immuno-suppressed. When was the last time that I had had an HIV test, they wanted to know. Would I be willing to have another HIV test?

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Living well with a chronic illness – interview on “Open Questions Podcast”

In this interview, Irina Almgren of the “Open Questions Podcast” asked questions to me and Andy McClellan about how we live with chronic illness. We discussed the obstacles of living in a society that pushes people to push themselves and ignore their bodies. We also talked about how the hyper-emphasis on “doing” in our society–on being productive all the time–meant that severe illness triggered crises of identity because we could no longer keep up at the insane pace that most of society runs at. At the same time, in letting go of “doing,” we found so much more about who we really are through “being.” In time, both Andy and I came to see our challenges in living with illness as opportunities to develop self-awareness, compassion and love.

Andy lives with chronic fatigue syndrome and writes an amazing blog called The Long and Winding Road.

You can listen to Part 1 here: OQ5: Living well with a chronic illness, Part 1 (download it) and Part 2 here: OQ6: Living well with a chronic illness, Part 2 (download it).

Getting through the “why me?” days

I think we all experience moments of wondering why we have to deal with a particular health challenge — what is the purpose of it? We might see ourselves as “abnormal” and wish to just be more “normal.” We might look with envy on others who seem to have it “so easy” and wish that we could have some of that ease. When I did my dissertation research, “Why me?” was a commonly reported thought among women with chronic pelvic pain. Some even wondered why God had given them such debilitating pain and illness.

Sometimes we just reach a threshold of not wanting to deal with chronic illness or chronic pain anymore. All of our excellent coping strategies fall by the wayside because we’re just too tired to apply them. We feel mentally defeated in those moments. And we can’t seem to just talk ourselves out of them. The sense of defeat and demoralization is too strong.

When we are absorbed in the “why me?” of coping with a health challenge, it just seems awful. Suffering isn’t rational! The “why me” comes from the feeling of being sucked into a “me bubble” of despair.

So how do we get through the days in which despair seems overwhelming? Here is what I do: More

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