Lights in The Heights starts at sundown on December 13th, in the Woodland Heights.
Deck the Heights
Heights Living: Giving Thanks
Alexander: A Birth Story
I have to warn everybody, this is
a long one.
Years ago, before we seriously
considered having a child, my husband John read a book: “Living Downstream: An Ecologist’s personal investigation of Cancer and
the Environment” by Biologist and Ecologist Sandra Steingraber Ph. D.
John, a NASA engineer, described
the book as “beautiful science prose” and proceeded to buy Dr. Steingraber’s
second book “Having Faith: An Ecologist’s
journey to Motherhood”, in which she describes month by month new
discoveries about genetics, the intimate unfolding of embryonic organs, and the
architecture of the fetal brain. In the
book Dr. Steingraber also recounts her journey through natural labor and birth
and her breastfeeding experiences.
John read these books privately
and didn’t discuss them with me until the day he found a documentary which he
thought we should watch together: “The
Business of Being Born”. In this documentary I learned about the increasing
medicalization of birth, the unnecessary interventions, and the misrepresentation
of birth by the media. I saw women
birthing their babies with ease, in pain but calm, a far cry from the screaming
madness of the movies. When the film
ended I was a changed person; while two hours before I had been afraid of pain
and of what pregnancy would do to my body, I now wanted to know more, I wanted
to explore the possibility of doing what for thousands of years millions of
women had done before me.
***
A couple of years later we
decided it was time. I took myself out
of a doctor’s practice and into a highly rated midwifery program. I trained for pregnancy like it was a
marathon, I read Dr. Steingraber’s books, I watched more documentaries, and I
looked for other like-minded women and learned of their experiences. I learned
Biofeedback. I also sought advice from
my OBGYN aunt (who attended my mother during my birth), who told me an
“epidural is the first of a cascade of unnecessary interventions that will
likely end in cesarean”. My aunt was reluctant to offer pain relief and labor-enhancing
drugs to her patients, she believed that all drugs cross the placenta and can
be harmful to the baby; instead she liked to let nature run her course, calling
on the midwives in her practice for assistance, and intervening only in the
case of a true emergency.
***
In June of 2013 I found out I was
pregnant. Ever the engineer, John
researched statistics and we learned that in an uncomplicated and healthy
pregnancy, the outcome of homebirth under the care of a Certified Nurse Midwife
is the same as in a hospital. We decided
I would birth our baby in the privacy and comfort of our home attended by
Kellie Moeller CNM, one of Houston’s most reputable private midwives. Kellie would bring all the necessary
equipment to our house and we would have a back-up plan just in case.
From Kellie I received the
best imaginable care, in our hour long appointments she would perform not only
routine checks, but she would also review my food journal, emotional health,
and personal preparations for our child’s birth. We took 12 hours of childbirth classes, I
read books by Ina May Gaskin and Dr. Bradley, I practiced Pilates, gave up
sugar, danced flamenco, walked with our dog Lilly, watched more videos. I
became what is known as a “birth junkie”.
I had a happy, healthy, and active pregnancy, free of stress and full of
love. I surrounded myself with
positivity, and while many of friends and well-meaning strangers were eager to
share their horror stories, the women in my family filled me with support and
shared stories of their own natural childbirths, reassuring me that birth was
not a big deal, that my body was made for it, and reminding me that grandma had
had 13 children attended at home by her midwife cousin. If they could do it, so could I.
***
My water broke on Thursday,
just after midnight and I had my first contraction at 4:00am on Friday. We knew the baby was head down, but occiput
posterior (his spine against my spine) and he would have to turn and face me
before he could make his exit into the world.
I prepared myself mentally for a long labor, as posterior labors tend to
be. I called Kellie to inform her of my
progress, duration and frequency of contractions and she advised that I
conserve my energy, get as much sleep as I could, and call her when I could no
longer speak through a contraction.
Friday was a beautiful spring
day; John presented me with a bouquet of wild flowers from our garden and set
up a hammock under our magnolia tree so I could rest there. We spent the day outside, John and my mother
reading in chairs next to me and our dog Lilly playing at my feet. The contractions came like waves, 15 minutes
apart, and I would close my eyes, relax my body and breathe deeply through
them. I had learned in biofeedback that
pain is intensified by our flight or fight instinct, in which we tense our body
for self-defense; deep relaxation on the other hand, would lessen pain.
Though labor had started early
in the morning, my contractions had remained steady in duration and intensity
throughout the day. John and my mother were confident in my “athletic’ ability
and kept reassuring me that labor would pick up soon and it would move faster,
but I knew better and instead of despairing at my slow progress I reminded
myself that posterior labors are lengthy and what was happening to me was normal. In the late afternoon we decided to take
Lilly out on a walk in the hopes that it would help speed things along. John and I walked slowly stopping every now
and then so I could breathe through the surges.
My mom made dinner and we went to bed.
The contractions slowly intensified as the evening progressed and soon I
felt that I could no longer stay in bed and I remembered from my classes that a
supine position intensified pain. I
paced around the house in the middle of the night, one contraction at a time,
and when exhaustion took over I napped on the rocking chair of our expectant
nursery while John slept next to me on the sheepskin rug.
At 5:00am on Saturday I
decided I’d had enough pretending to sleep and I roused the house asking for a
hearty breakfast. I got in the shower
and let the hot water wash over my aching lower back; the feel of the water was
such amazing relief and I looked forward to the moment when I could immerse
myself in the birth pool. At the same time,
my contractions picked up in speed and intensity, 2 minutes apart! I could no
longer speak through them and I required all of my concentration to relax the
pain away. John called Kellie and
informed her of my progress and she asked to listen to me during a
contraction. In natural childbirth women
are encouraged to vocalize in low pitches through contractions, the belief is
that a high pitched cry will tense one’s body and intensify pain, while a low, guttural
moan will relax the muscles and decrease pain; the sounds a woman makes during
labor can be very telling of her progress, Kellie must have heard something
special in my sounds because she said “I’m on my way”.
My mom made pancakes and
excitedly we waited for the midwife.
Kellie arrived with all her equipment and immediately set out to check
on me and listen to the baby; he was doing great, she said, tolerating
contractions well. Soon after her
arrival my contractions slowed down to 6 minutes and 7 minutes apart, and
Kellie reassured me this was normal with posterior labor and encouraged all of
us to rest some more until the pace picked up again. The morning wore on in the same pattern and
around lunch my friend Jamie, who I had asked to be my doula (labor support),
came armed with supplies and a plan to turn the baby around. Jamie, who was 9 months pregnant herself,
taught John how to use the “rebozo” technique,
an ancient practice used by Mayan midwives to support the belly and help the
baby into a better position.
The baby was doing great and Kellie
informed us that she needed to go back to her office and that I should keep
doing inversions and working with the rebozo
until she came back later in the afternoon.
They worked as a team, John, my mom, and Jamie, taking turns to support
me through the contractions, providing counter-pressure to my lower back and
hips, and working with the rebozo.
Kellie returned to the house late afternoon to find that the baby’s
position had changed and he had rotated to face me! My mom jokingly declared
that Jamie was a witch and that she had helped the baby get into alignment with
her ancient wisdom.
The contractions were stronger
now, but still 6 to 7 minutes apart, not exactly the frequency required for
active labor; Kellie said that I had two options: keep moving to encourage
progress or take some medicine to slow down labor so I could get some rest. I wanted to keep moving but Kellie thought
that rest was a better option because I would need all my strength in a few
hours, so rest it was. I went to bed and
soon realized that laying down was unbearable, and I thought “this is exactly
why people ask for anesthesia”. Lying in
bed was not an option so John set up a yoga ball in our bedroom next to the bed
and propped me up with pillows so that I could sleep. I spent the night alternating between the
rocking chair in the nursery and the yoga ball in the bedroom, sleeping 15
minutes at a time. As the night wore on
I found myself headed for the bathroom frequently, not exactly out of need, but
because that position made me more comfortable and I took that as a sign of
real progress.
By 5:00am on Sunday I had come
to the conclusion that sleep was impossible.
I went to the living room where my mom and Kellie were sleeping on
couches, told them I was ready to start the day. Kellie checked on us, the baby was still
doing great and I was inexplicably full of energy. By 6:00am Kellie stated that I had entered
active labor and declared “today is the day”, we were going to make things
happen. The contractions were definitely
closer together and more intense, but I kept breathing, and moving, and
relaxing through them, mentally repeating my affirmations of “I can do this”, “mind
over matter”, “relaxed and calm”, and “no pasa nada”. By lunch time I was tired and Kellie suggested
that I try lying on my side to sleep for a bit.
John took me to bed and massaged my back while labor slowed once again
to 20 minutes apart and I fell deeply asleep between contractions. A few hours later Kellie got quiet and said
we needed to exercise caution: the baby’s heart rate was accelerating and she
feared this could be caused by infection or dehydration. She also feared I was too exhausted and, at
only 4cm dilated, I may not last another day without some medical help.
Kellie suggested we transfer
to the Pavilion for Women at Texas Children’s Hospital, where she hoped they
would be more accommodating of my natural birth plan. Best case scenario the baby was fine and
Kellie would request a Pitocin drip to bring back my stalled labor. Worst case…we discussed the possibility of a
C-Section and I cried as I saw my months of preparation potentially going down
the drain. As we drove to the hospital
my body shut down and I experienced only one contraction in the car. I thought of Ina May Gaskin describing how animals
in the wild will stop their labor to flee if they feel threatened, so too women
bodies if their process is interrupted.
***
We arrived at the Pavilion and
were greeted by friendly staff familiar to Kellie. They admitted me and checked on the baby, he
was doing great, no need to panic!
Kellie talked to the OB on call and she started me on IV fluids and a
very small dose of Pitocin. Soon after
the staff shift changed, and the friendly OB was replaced by an extremely
annoyed and condescending woman, who accused me on not having received any
pre-natal care, despite holding my huge folder of records in her hand and the
presence of my most capable midwife. She
read my birth plan, and without touching me or even approaching me she declared
that my baby had “macrosomia”, (which is just a fancy way of saying that I was
carrying a big baby), that he would weigh 10 pounds (the most recent ultrasound
estimation, with a 15% margin of error, had calculated that our baby would
weigh 9.6lbs), that he was huge and would get stuck, and that I wasn’t able to
birth him normally. A C-section was in
order and she wanted me to comply immediately.
The doctor checked me and declared me to be 4cm dilated, 90% effaced,
and baby at station 1. She walked out of
the room to let me ponder her pronouncements and succeeded in terrifying my
mother, who up until now had been my rock.
My mother was pleading with me
to accept the cesarean so as to not “endanger the baby” when the other
attending OB asked to check me and said there was no way my baby would weigh
10lbs; Kellie then whispered in my ear reminding me what I had learned in my
classes: once a baby is past station 0 he has made it through the narrowest
part of the pelvis and if he can make it through that, he can make it out. I relayed this information to my mom and
reminded her of the benefits of a vaginal delivery: The baby’s lungs would be
squeezed off their fluids as he made it through the birth canal; a cesarean
baby on the other hand would run the risk of respiratory problems and future
asthma. My baby would be colonized with
good bacteria present in the birth canal, boosting his future immune system. My baby would be born alert and ready to
breastfeed, a cesarean baby would be born drowsy from medications, may need resuscitation,
and breastfeeding may be jeopardized. The
OB also informed that if I “fell off the labor curve”, the time and pattern she
was willing to give me, she would do a C-Section on me. I once again declined the procedure, thanked
the anesthesiologist for his consult and told him that I would not need his
service. The knowledge that my baby was
not in danger gave me renewed strength to keep laboring and the threats from
the OB had awakened my competitive nature.
The nasty OB returned to check
me again (4.5 cm) and said my water was still half full (Kellie had me drink
water “until it was pouring out of my eyes” to prevent loss of amniotic fluid)
and that she needed to rupture it. In
between contractions I analyzed the risk of artificially rupturing my membranes
(AROM): infection, stronger contractions (a desirable one), but most
importantly cord prolapse. Knowing that
the baby had already descended into the birth canal reassured me that the later
was no longer applicable and I accepted the procedure.
The Pitocin drip was working
and the contractions now came at a regular pace. Pitocin is the synthetic version of Oxytocin
(the “love” hormone) and it can bring on or strengthen contractions during childbirth,
Pitocin carries a risk of fetal distress and cesarean, as the contractions can
become too strong for the baby to bear, particularly if the mother is under
epidural anesthesia. It was soon
determined that Pitocin was too strong for the baby, so the drip was removed
and I continued to labor drug-free once more. In our childbirth classes we had
learned that a woman in active labor enters a state of altered consciousness,
dominated by primal instincts, and it is detrimental to the process to make her
engage her rational mind. Now that all
arguing with the doctor was over I could resume my work without interruptions. At that moment I remembered my cousin Ximena telling
me that she became an “animal” during the birth of her daughter, losing all notions
of time, place, and self. Jamie now
encouraged me to enter what she called “laborland”, allowing my endorphins to
take over.
Courtney, the wonderful nurse,
had set me up on a portable monitor so I could move around. I paced back and forth from the bathroom to
the bed, swaying, rocking, and dancing my baby down. In the bathroom my mom whispered that I should
push when I felt the urge and I chuckled and said that one doesn’t push until
10cm dilated! But I asked Kellie her
opinion, and Kellie said that my mother was wise and I should do as she
said. Soon after I felt an overwhelming
need to push, and even though I was about 6cm, I pushed. The relief!
Pushing took away the pain, pushing felt incredibly good! The contractions, which until now had had an
upward feeling, opening my body for my baby, were now pulling me in a downward pressure. I pushed and the pain disappeared, the clock
of the “labor curve” was ticking but I was in good spirits, I could do this! Kellie told Jamie to look at my face, I was
smiling during contractions.
Once again they all worked as
a team: John, my mom, Kellie, and Jamie.
They supported my body, applied counter-pressure, and massaged my
back. While at home I had been able to
eat and drink at will, I was now allowed only ice chips to keep my stomach free
of contents in the event of an emergency surgery. My mouth was on fire from thirst and the ice
was not enough, so John secured contraband water which he fed me discreetly
with a straw.
I grew tired and my resolve
started to falter. I told Kellie that I
was very tired, and she said “you’re nearly there, you can do it”. At that moment I realized that I was in “transition”,
the last part of active labor when a woman body opens the last few centimeters in
preparation for birth. Transition is the
most intense stage of labor, but also the shortest, and in an un-medicated
mother it is characterized by a falter in resolve, usually externalized by
saying “I can’t do this anymore”. This
is the moment when one might be tempted by an epidural…but I was still pushing
and pushing took away the pain! So instead,
I asked Kellie: “is this transition?” she smiled and said “yes, Nadia, this is
transition”.
***
Courtney, the nurse, checked
me and said I was 9.5cm, a few more contractions and I would be ready to birth
my baby. We had learned with Kellie that
after transition your body gives you a break (1 minute, 5 minutes, everybody is
different), and this was true for me.
The contractions stopped and we discussed my birthing position. The OB wanted me supine – convenient for the
doctor, but for the laboring woman it is the most inefficient posture in which
to bring forth a baby - and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Kellie made me visualize myself in a
squatting position, she made me think of the muscles I would engage in that
situation and I recruited all my Pilates training and mentally thanked Kat
Bigbee for keeping me in shape.
The contractions started again,
building up in three or four part peaks.
“Deep breath in and blow it away” the first peak. “Deep breath in and push”, the second, third,
and fourth peak. Kellie had my right leg
and Courtney my left, together they encouraged me along while John whispered in
my ear and caressed my face. My mom had positioned
herself in front of me and was keeping a visual commentary of my progress. It hadn’t been very long when I started to
feel a burning sensation and I said out loud “it burns!”, Kellie said “it will
burn more”, but I wasn’t complaining, I was having an epiphany. I now asked “Kellie, is this the Ring of Fire?”
and Kellie said “yes, Nadia, this is the Ring of Fire”. My baby was crowning, I was almost finished!
Courtney then said “Nadia, I
know your instinct is to push but we need to wait for the doctor”. Not pushing was horrible; it was extremely
difficult to ignore the urge! Kellie suggested I blow my breath, like for a
candle. I could see the staff getting
ready and I could swear that they were taking their time putting on their
gowns. I was mad because I knew that I didn’t
need the doctor to “catch” the baby, if my legs hadn’t been put in stirrups
right before I could’ve done it myself.
Kellie was now at the head of the bed so she couldn’t do it either. Finally they were finished counting
instruments and putting on their gowns and I was told to give it my all. I heard my mom cry “ahí está!” (there he
is!), and they placed my baby on my chest.
John Alexander was born at 4:02am on Monday morning, a whole 3 days
after my first contraction. He was
crying lustfully and received an apgar score of 9. I was crying too and John was crying. Jamie was taking pictures and I could hear
crying too. My mom came around to the head
of the bed to look at Alexander and said “this is your son! He is your son!”. John cut Alexander’s cord. Alexander started smacking his lips and we
recognized that as his rooting instinct, his search for the breast. I let him follow his instinct to do a “breast
crawl” and find my breast by himself and once he did, he nursed eagerly!
Meanwhile the resident doctor
was attending to me in typical hospital protocol, painfully tugging and pulling
at the cord to remove Alex’s placenta from my body, instead of allowing the
uterine contractions that nursing Alex were creating to gently release the
placenta. The doctor told me I had a
small laceration inside and she would take care of it. Kellie said the laceration was inconsequential
and I shouldn’t worry. I had given birth
without the need of an episiotomy or any trauma to my perineum!
Alex’s continued to nurse for
a good while and then it was time to check him and weigh him. 8lbs 13oz, 21.5 in. A far cry from the “huge” 10lbs baby I couldn’t
possibly deliver. I couldn’t help but
point that out to the nasty doctor. We
refused shots and ointment at that moment, we wanted to bond with Alex
uninterrupted and minimize more shock for his little body. At home he would’ve opened his eyes in gentle
candlelight, at the hospital he was put under bright lights, an offensive
contrast to the cozy darkness of my womb.
We took Alex to our recovery
room where he turned out to be an eager nursling and a happy baby. Alex was perfect, no infection, no
dehydration. I was in good health too
and we were released a day later. Kellie
continued to care for Alex and me at home in the days and weeks following his
birth. We fell in love with our son; he
was everything we hoped and more and we were on such a natural high after his
birth! The realization of the power of
my body, the immense pride that John expressed in me, and the love this new
little person demonstrated made every hour and every contraction worth it, a
thousand times over.
Alexander is our joy, we are
forever blessed by his arrival.
Heights Living: Project Nursery
When I found out I was pregnant with a boy I immediately started thinking of his nursery. Though at first I wasn't sure which design direction to take, I was certain of what I didn't want: primary colors, plaid, sports, or the dark and serious themes I like to call "Baby CEO". I wanted Alexander to have a bright and happy room in which he could transition from infant to toddler.
Heights Living: Shady Business
 |
| Street in the Woodland Heights, Houston. |
It's summer in Houston and as the temperature reaches a toasty 84 degrees by 9:00am, walking my dog with a three month old baby in tow has become a race against the sun. Fortunately my neighborhood in The Heights gives me many opportunities for a shady stroll.
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| The Esplanade. Woodland Heights, Houston. |
 |
| Woodland Heights, Houston. |
At the moment, my favorite pocket of the Heights is the "Woodland Heights". Older and with bigger houses than my own Norhill Heights, the Woodland Heights offers the shade of centenary Oaks and architectural variety.
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| Prairie style bungalow |
 |
| Craftsman Bungalow |
 |
| Shingle style cottage |
The branches of the oaks form an almost continuous canopy above our heads, and as we walk under its shade we encounter not only the Craftsman Bungalows that our neighborhood is famous for, but also Victorian grand ladies and gingerbread houses.
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| Arts and Crafts Bungalow |
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| Arts and Crafts Bungalow |
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| Queen Anne Victorian |
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| Gingerbread Victorian |
Alex, Lilly, and I now pause under a rambling oak and in the merciful shade I start to feel "street envy". There's a bungalow for sale on Woodland Ave, tempting...
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| Craftsman Bungalow |
All images by Nadia Palacios Lauterbach
***
Of Light and Water
My first lesson in watercolor painting as an architecture student in Rome, Italy, consisted of a curious presentation involving our professor Richard Piccolo's special "green outfit" (with which he explained that colors come in many shades) and some marvelous slides of John Singer Sargent's watercolor views of Venice for inspiration.
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| John Singer Sargent "Santa Maria della Salute". 1904, |
Watercolor is a difficult and unforgiving medium, mistakes are evident through its transparent washes, a little breeze on the paper and the water dries too quickly creating divisions in the paint, too many layers and the painting turns out muddy. By the end of my stay in Rome we had all become quite adept at this medium, though John Singer Sargent we were not...
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| John Singer Sargent "Bedouins". |
A few weeks ago I took my mother the Museum of Fine Arts Houston to finally admire in person those very watercolors that as a student I tried to emulate. My mom asked how many hours I thought it took Sargent to work on of his sketches, and I said "not hours, minutes!" I then told her the most important lesson I had learned in Piccolo's class was to "never let the water dry, never loose the light", and to achieve that one must race against time, a difficult yet beautiful medium watercolor is! Sargent's sketches are indeed quick,wet, luminous, and marvelous! The special exhibit stays in Houston through May 26th.
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| John Singer Sargent "I Gesuati". |
We've been a little busy...
I have neglected the blog as of late but I've had a very good reason: I was pregnant and now I have a gorgeous baby boy! John Alexander was born earlier this month after a long but rewarding natural labor. We had an amazing birthing team: my husband John, my mom, our great home birth midwife Kellie Moeller, and my dear friend turned doula Jamie Johnstad. Little Alex has brought such joy to our lives and I can't wait to see what adventures and new places we will explore with him!
Houston Living: "Urban Flight", 7 reasons to leave the Suburbs and move to Houston
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| The gardens at Bayou Bend. |
Houston is a
constantly evolving town and it really wasn’t that long ago when “Suburban
Flight” was in full swing. Moving companies in Sugarland, TX and surrounding suburbs
were busy getting people out of the city and into new subdivisions scattered on the once pristine country side. Times have certainly changed, now it's more common to meet people who are heading back into
the city. In my experience, and after countless conversations with newcomers, I've
compiled a quick list of why cities, like Houston's Inner Loop, beat the suburbs when it comes to
high-quality living.
1. Cut
the commute. Proximity between residence, work, and entertainment is hard to come by in the sprawling landscape of Suburbia. With gas prices continually
on the rise and valuable time lost in long, traffic-heavy commutes, many
adults find their quality of life - and finances - are improved by city
living.
2. New
Urbanism. If you read my blog you know
I'm passionate about smart urban planning. As Houston continues to
revitalize blighted downtown areas, create new infrastructure, invest in public transportation, and improve
the local landscape, it quickly becomes a magnet for
suburbanites looking to make the world a better place.
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| White Linen Nights in The Heights. |
4. You
can walk! Suburban life involves a hefty
amount of driving, and the long distances and lack of sidewalks in Houston's suburbs discourage walking or biking, forcing residents into a sedentary life. Moving to the
city means residents can often walk or bike to their
destinations and enjoy the many wonderful neighborhood parks and jogging trails.
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| Lilly meets the neighbors. |
6. Entertainment. The list of things to do in Houston is endless: Museums, restaurants, live music, theaters, tours of historic homes and
gardens, pottery classes, athletic activities, volunteering, you name it! Houston is rich in culture and entertainment and all this can make evenings and weekends or nights much
more lively than suburban life.
7. It's
affordable...for now. Watch out! With all the focus
Houston is getting from famous publications and blogs, the affordable housing
opportunities may not last for long, but if you're ready
to make the move, I recommend hiring a professional moving company like Sugarland movers, who know the area and will make your transition as seamless as possible. My dog Lilly and I will keep an
eye out for you!
***
Pages from my journal
This morning my friend Michael Baumgarten (wonderful artist and co-owner of Seriously Mabel Greetings) invited me to attend a live figure drawing session at Archway Gallery in Montrose. It had been a long time since my last session with a model and I have to admit that I was a bit rusty.
The session started with a very challenging motion sequence in which our model kept a continuous, slow flow of movement instead of holding poses. I felt like I was playing catch up with my pencil, struggling to at least capture his line of motion in quick gestural strokes. After this whirlwind warm up the 1 minute sequence was such a luxury! Our model then transition to holding the poses for 5 minutes and 10 minutes, allowing us to capture details, shades, and shadows.
Archway Gallery holds live figure drawing sessions regularly, visit their site for more information: http://www.archwaygallery.com
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