Birth Story, Part Two

Shuma turns 3 today. I thought maybe it was about time to finish writing his birth story. I have forgotten so many little details already, and need to get it out while I still have some memory of it left. I actually did start writing it soon after the birth, and have worked on it a few times over the years, but at first I wasn't really ready. It was all so recent and awful and I wasn't finished sorting out how I even felt about it myself. And as time went on I became kind of bitter about the whole thing and just wanted to forget it. And also whenever I'd reread what I'd written I realized it was way too long, and was really just a long boring list of complaints.

I've tried to make it a bit less long-winded and whiney, but since this is a record for myself as much as it is a blog post, I don't want to leave too much out. So be warned: this is very long and self-indulgent. I recommend just scrolling down to see the pictures and reading this short version:

Shuma was taken to the hospital after being born in a midwifery house, due to meconium aspiration syndrome (basically when a baby has its first poop while still in the womb). Like most babies with MAS he was just fine, but needed oxygen and his lungs cleaned out and a series of tests to rule out complications. He was in there for a week, and I stayed in my midwife clinic without him for 5 days before being released. It sucked.

Here is the long version (taking up where we left off, in the first part of the birth story):

 

It was just me and the remaining two midwives, and they busied themselves cleaning me up. I was as limp as a rag doll and remember feeling shame at having to be wiped down and dressed, but I literally couldn't lift an arm to help them out. After a rest I realized I was ravenously hungry and asked for something to eat, and despite still feeling a bit nauseous I was able to sit up and eat a little. I remember finding the food much too heavily flavoured and could only eat a few bites, and I was worried that I wouldn't be able to eat anything during my stay if all the food was this bad.

Eating gave me a good amount of energy though, and I realized if I'd been able to eat during labour I might have been much stronger and gotten the baby out sooner. That's a thought that came after, of course. That night I was too tired to think about anything. During dinner my sister-in-law, Atsuko, and her daughter Marya came for a quick visit, and then I think I called my parents, and then a midwife came in for an exam. She reported that I had a pretty bad perineal tear and we'd have to look after it tomorrow. This terrified me but I was assured that it would be done with anaesthetic and I was too tired to ask for more details so I drifted to sleep until finally the head midwife came back from the hospital and reported everything was going fine. Shuma had been admitted to the NICU and was on oxygen but doing well (as measured by how loud he was crying, which was: very loud). A few hours later Hideaki, who had stayed at the hospital to finish the paperwork, came back. He had taken a few pictures, so I got my first real look at Shuma James Nakazawa:

The next morning I was able to eat a proper breakfast. Traditional Japanese food, on the austere side, and not much of it. It was very lightly flavoured and I realized that the previous night's dinner hadn't been over-seasoned as I thought. It was just lingering nausea that had made my taste buds sensitive. Now I wished I'd brought a salt shaker.

As Hideaki was leaving for work (he'd already used up the one day off he was given for the birth) and a junior midwife came in and announced that we were leaving in half an hour to get me stitched up. At my own midwifery house there is nobody qualified to do that, so we'd have to take a taxi to an ob-gyn. Not the nearby big hospital where by son was though, that would make too much sense. So I had to scramble to get ready, still barely able to stand up, still filthy, still in pain. I had asked what I needed to bring and was told just my insurance card, so that's what I brought, and I hobbled into the taxi- she did the polite thing and let me get in first, and it was so painful having to scoot over that the backseat seemed like it was miles long. It was a long, uncomfortable ride through tiny narrow Tokyo streets, with plenty of swerves and bumps, and it took most of my energy to sit still and not cry out. But I needed even more energy to deal with this midwife, who was a chatty Kathy, and not just a regular chatty Kathy but the kind that sees foreigners as an opportunity to practice her English. Small problem- she couldn't speak English. But she tried, and kept trying, for the entire 20 minute ride. This would have been incredibly annoying under any circumstances, but with me exhausted and in pain and worried about my baby and dreading the upcoming procedure it was torture. I thought at first maybe she was trying to distract me, but if she was thoughtful enough to want to do that you'd think she'd also be able to notice that I did not want to answer her stupid unintelligible questions.

Upon arrival the driver announced the price and the midwife looked at me expectantly. I hadn't brought my wallet, since she hadn't mentioned money when I'd asked what to bring (and I stupidly assumed I'd be billed for everything later). She had to pay out of her own pocket and seemed completely shocked and put-out, and I apologized and promised to pay her when we got back.

Inside the clinic she continued her chatter until I just couldn't take it and lay down on the bench with my arms over my head, and at that point a kindly nurse noticed that I wasn't doing well and brought me to a room to lie down. The silence was wonderful. When it was my turn, the doctor got started right away, giving me a shot for the pain and telling me to let her know if it started to hurt. After a few minutes it did start to hurt, and I told her, and lord knows why she wanted me to tell her because I didn't get any more shots. She said there were only a few stitches left to do, but it hurt more and more and my groans turned to screams and the doctor, nurse and midwife were all telling me "Gambatte!" and "Almost done" and other encouraging things, and it was just like it was when I was giving birth half a day before. Finally the nurse mimed lamaze-type breathing, just like I'd used during labour, so I did that and it helped a little. I was so grateful for that, but why the hell couldn't they have just given me some pain relief? Why did I have to go through all of that again?

I didn't ask how many stitches there were ("I was too tired to ask" is kind of a theme here, and it seems hard to believe now but I really was- too physically tired to talk, or too mentally tired to think of the words in Japanese or to stand up for myself) and it was months before I had the courage to get a mirror and look, by which time the stitches were long gone. But I think I felt about 8 after the anaesthetic wore off, and who knows how many were done before then, so maybe a dozen?

Unbelievably, the midwife was surprised all over again when I didn't have any money to pay the clinic. Idiot. In the cab ride back I just closed my eyes and pretended to sleep, and she finally shut up, thank Jesus. She made the taxi wait when we got back so I could go get my wallet, and it was almost empty. Oops. I guess next time I give birth I'll be sure to stop at the ATM on the way to the hospital. I had just enough to pay the driver and not enough to pay the midwife back for the rest of it so promised her my husband would pay when he came after work that night.

So I managed to eat some lunch and then my mother-in-law came. It was so nice to see her and she held my hand and we both cried for a while. Crying was such a relief. When we'd recovered we took a taxi to the hospital so I could finally see my boy. We got the world's worst taxi driver, an older lady who was both the stereotypical woman driver and the stereotypical older Japanese lady. So she talked the whole time and got lost and had to ask a police officer directions and got lost again and finally got us there without offering any discount for the lost time. I let my MIL pay, I was too excited to care, and after scrubbing up we were brought to the NICU and introduced to my son.

His eyes were open and he looked right at me, and they were grey or maybe blue, it was hard to tell under the harsh lighting and with his eyes just open a crack, but they were beautiful eyes. I was allowed to put my hand in the incubator and touch him, which Hideaki hadn't been allowed to do the night before, so I took that as progress. He gripped my thumb and it wasn't the iron grip that parents describe, but it felt like he was trying his hardest. It felt like he knew me. I wanted to hold him so badly, but was told he had to stay in his plastic box. The doctor came and explained some things to us, which I couldn't really understand but the gist of which seemed to be "he seems to be totally fine but we need to do some more tests and make sure he's feeding well". And he also asked if I'd been able to express any milk. I felt like an awful mother when I said no, but I had asked after the birth and again this morning if I could pump and the midwives had said no, I needed to rest first. It didn't seem right, but you know, I was too tired to question it.

Hideaki had told them that Shuma wasn't to receive any formula. Yay for him, if only he'd been able to be in two places at once and told my midwives to let me pump. I was very proud of him and glad the hospital abided, but since I hadn't provided any milk they were feeding him sugar water. The nurses were just as eager for me to begin pumping as I was, as apparently Shuma cried pretty much nonstop, and he was very very loud. I hadn't really noticed yet, but all the other babies in the NICU were tiny little things, mostly preemies, and their cries were more like the mewls of kittens than the very healthy sounds my son was making. So I was brought to the pump station, haha, and shown how to use their industrial strength breast pumps, and of course I forgot the instructions and did everything wrong. The other mothers all ignored me and each other so I flagged down a nurse and was eventually able to produce a few drops.

I wasn't able to see Shuma again as the daytime visiting hours had ended, so we went back to the midwife clinic. That damned junior midwife from this morning bumped into us and immediately asked my MIL to pay her back. My MIL had no idea what she was talking about, since I hadn't mentioned it to her. Why should I, when I'd already told the midwife my husband would be paying her back that night? What an absolute bitch. But my MIL paid. She had brought thank-you presents, in the traditional Japanese manner. At the big hospital earlier the present had been kindly refused, but the midwife accepted the present with barely a thanks. This is when I started to regret my choice of birth venue.

Here are some pictures Hideaki took on a visit late that night:

The next day Atsuko came to visit (her mother had already flown back to Osaka) and together we went to the hospital. Have I mentioned she was pregnant too? 7 months along at that point, I think, and busy with 5 year-old Marya, but she took so much time to help us out during Shuma's stay in the hospital. With Hideaki so busy, me still kind of out of it (and not very competent in Japanese) and both sets of parents so far away, she was an incredible help.

Big surprise- he was out of his incubator! I was allowed to hold him for the first time.

They brought Shuma and I to the nursing room, I would rather have just done it there with Atsuko to help but they insisted. We weighed him, then the nurse give brisk instructions which were rather hard to follow but after a few tries it worked, and we were left alone with instructions to watch the clock and switch sides after 10 minutes. The nurse came back and I hadn't switched sides, because he was still nursing and I didn't know how to get him off and wasn't sure I could get him back on to the other side, but I was reprimanded and made to switch but he fell asleep right away and wouldn't nurse. So we weighed him and he had drunk enough to satisfy the nurse so we wheeled him back and she showed me how to feed him sugar water in a bottle, then I put him back in his little bed and was brought to the pumping station. I did a little better this time.

We were about to get a taxi to head back to my clinic when I saw that the driver of the first taxi in line was the awful lady from the day before! I told Atsuko we couldn't take that one but it would also be rude to try to take the second taxi so we went back into the hospital and waited in the cafeteria. I ordered iced coffee and an ice cream too and it was the first time since starting labour that I'd had: coffee; cold food or drink; anything sweet. None of those things are allowed by the midwives, cold drinks chill the baby you know, and sweets and cold food reduce milk production. 100% bullshit of course, so I was glad that horrible taxi driver had been there because this unexpected treat was heavenly. I honestly felt so much better after eating, and of course much of that was from being able to hold and nurse my baby but I think the caffeine and sheer pleasure of eating something nice also played a huge part. I felt the best I'd felt in days.

Before we left the doctor had given us another update and asked why I still hadn't brought any pumped milk. He seemed a bit angry about it and it kind of jarred me into standing up for myself a little, so when I got back to the clinic I demanded the pump. It was the head midwife I spoke to and she was actually surprised that I didn't already have it. I'm glad she felt that way but wish she could have trained her midwives a bit better. And I was also kind of disappointed: with the caffeine and my new found courage I was all prepared to argue. So I produced a little and they kept it in the freezer and that night I asked to visit Shuma with Hideaki. It was very late at night and he didn't think it was a good idea but the midwife said it was OK so I went and brought along the milk I'd pumped (they'd managed to round up some ice packs- the hospital only accepts frozen milk).

This was the first time Hideaki held Shuma.

I was eager to nurse him again and asked if I could do it right there in the NICU. Not just to show Hideaki but also because moving to the nursing room was bothersome, he still had an IV so I had to wheel him in his big awkward cart and I was still exhausted. So because it was night and there were few (male) doctors round the nurse said it was OK just this one time. The nursing room nurse was brought and she was even stricter than the one I'd had that afternoon, and she barked a series of orders ("Hold him like this" "Keep your back straight" "Place his mouth on your nipple" "Back straight!") that were confusing and contradictory and he wouldn't drink. I was trying to follow the instructions I'd read in my baby books but they were different from what this nurse was telling me. She was obsessed with posture. I knew that I was supposed to bring Shuma to me rather than bend over to get to him, but I also thought maybe I should just try to get him to latch and the posture would work itself out later. Anyway it just wasn't working and Shuma started crying and so did I and the nurse said our time was up. It was awful, I'd been so proud and ready to show Hideaki and was crushed that I couldn't.

So we fed him some of the milk I'd expressed earlier and we were taught how to change his diaper, and then I went and pumped. Only a few ml's, but the most I'd produced so far. I was so very tired, it was around 3:00 and we had to wait forever for a taxi so I was regretting coming and decided not to visit at night anymore, I'd leave that up to Hideaki.

Back at the clinic things were pretty boring and lonesome between visits. The day after I had Shuma a woman gave birth in the room across from mine with her family present. I heard the kids playing and the midwives coming and going but nothing else, she didn't give so much as a whimper. It was quiet all evening until suddenly I heard a feeble cry and knew she'd given birth. I could hear all the congratulations and happy sounds and it made me feel sad. Over the next 5 days one or two more women gave birth, and they were always surrounded by midwives and everyone looked so happy. But they stayed away from me, maybe because they were busy with the other moms or maybe they thought it best to leave in peace, but I was so lonely. And I had so many questions. This would have been the time to have them teach me how to dress the baby and use my sling and all of that, but they only came in to examine me or massage my breasts or bring my food.

Ugh, the breast massage. That's a thing they do in Japan, believing it helps milk production and prevents blocked ducts, and I hated it. It was painful and felt invasive and just made me miss my baby. I especially hated it when they talked to me during the massage. I don't consider myself a prude, but having a midwife make conversation while her hands are painfully squeezing my sore breasts just felt wrong.

The midwives managed to time their infrequent visits perfectly, and were always catching me doing something naughty. Like reading. "You shouldn't use your eyes too much, you won't be able to make enough milk". Or using my iPhone (same reason). Or eating a mini chocolate bar my husband had smuggled in. "Sweets are bad for your milk". Or pumping "Too much pumping will tire you out". Or using the air conditioning. Or not wearing socks, or not covering up enough with a blanket, or lying down the wrong way, or drinking a cold drink. It was ridiculous, and I started hating them all.

I was having nightmares and also having extremely gloomy thoughts. I'm not sure if it was a mild form of postnatal depression (does it even happen that soon?) or just a result of all the crap I was going through. I wouldn't really even have admitted at the time that I was going through crap, after all my baby was healthy and being well taken care of and isn't it wonderful that I live in this time and place as in other times and other places Shuma would have died. I tried to be grateful but really I think I was hurting from the awful birth, and the separation from my baby and the resentment I felt towards the women who were supposed to be caring for me. I don't know.

There was a large cemetery nearby that I passed every time I took a taxi to visit Shuma. Zoshigaya Cemetery is actually quite famous and is the resting place of a number of notable people, including Lafcadio Hearn, but every time I passed it I thought about death. Vaguely, or specifically, like imagining burying my dead baby and stuff like that. It sounds over-dramatic now, but at the time those thoughts were real and distressing. Especially in the first few days when we really weren't sure if he'd be OK. One of the many nightmares I had involved me witnessing a cat get run over. It flew through the air and landed with a splat and I knew it was dead but I had to hurry on somewhere so couldn't stop. On my way back from whatever dream errand I was on I looked for the cat to bury it properly, and came upon its corpse. It was only bones and a bit of gore, surrounded by fur and bloody disposable chopsticks. I woke up crying and outraged that people had feasted on this poor cat. Such a ridiculous dream, yet I kept seeing it again and getting angry about it for days. Weird, right? I must have been much more stressed out than I realized.

Little by little I heard the details of the birth: Shuma's official birth weight was 3854 grams, but because they'd weighed him after he'd started breathing (by which point they'd suctioned about 200 grams of fluid from his lungs and tummy) and he'd already pooped, they said his real weight would have been over 4 kilograms. Yay me! He was 50 cm in length and had a head circumference of 36cm, which didn't mean much to me but impressed the midwives. My labour had lasted fourteen hours in total, which is about average, but of course it felt much longer. I had experienced heavy bleeding during labour, which probably explained my continuing exhaustion and weakness. I suppose in a real hospital I would have given me an IV and more substantial food to get my strength back, but here the meals were light with a very small amount of protein: like two chicken wings or a tiny slice of fish. Ideal for a small Japanese woman eager to lose weight after a regular birth, but not really what I should have been eating. Luckily I had brought my prenatal vitamins so self-medicated with those, and continued to have treats at the hospital after visiting Shuma. Of course the visits themselves took a toll and I always felt tired out.

Physically tired out, but mentally? The visits were wonderful. It was so obvious that there was nothing wrong with our baby, and I started believing the doctor when he said Shuma was just there as a precaution. He still couldn't say when he's be released, he said it could be up to a month, but I knew he was in a safe place and I wasn't worried about him.

Well, nursing was a bit of a worry, but it was improving every day. When Shuma was 4 days old he was moved to the GCU (Growth Care Unit, for the babies that are too well for the NICU but not quite well enough to room in with their moms). When I fed him that visit we did well, and the after nursing weight so impressed the nurse (this was one of the nice ones) that she stopped everyone on our way back to tell them how much he'd drunk. She was just so excited and that really cheered me up. I think that's maybe one of the jobs of obstetric nurses, cheering up worried parents. I must say that although I had a couple of stinkers, most of the nurses there were excellent. Shuma was well taken care of, so much so that I felt guilty. Especially his first three days in the NICU, with most of the babies half his size and some so tiny and weak-looking it broke your heart. And here is big, pink Shuma with a cry that would seem loud even coming from an adult. I couldn't help but feel bad.

There was a log-in book that visiting parents had to sign, and you could see all the other babies and their visitors. Most had a parent visiting a few times a day, but a few had none or nearly none. Maybe the mothers were in bad shape themselves, or the parents had given up hope, or the baby was so seriously ill that no visitors were allowed, or I don't know. It was just so sad to think about. On one visit I saw a new baby admitted, big and healthy looking like Shuma but with a cleft palate. The parents looked worried, I guess that's just how Hideaki had looked when he came that first night. The baby was totally adorable. It cried every waking moment though, and over the next few days all it did was cry, not as loud as Shuma but just as heartbreaking to witness, and every once in a while a passing nurse would put her finger in its mouth to sooth it, but she'd have to move on after a few moments.

So here we are on day 5, a Friday. I was released from the midwifery house, thank fucking god, and Hideaki managed to leave work early so we could visit Shuma together. Shuma was doing better and better, but one of the nurses was really concerned about his crying and his failure to gain weight. I wasn't worried about his weight, as he was doing exactly as my books said he should be doing and my milk had come in and I was pretty much bursting. But the crying was something I felt bad about, it must have been annoying for the nurses and distressing to the other parents and babies. She urged us to allow them to use formula and I asked them to let us think about it until the next visiting hours. So Hideaki and I went out for dinner (real food, yay!) and I called a La Leche League leader I had met a few months ago at a meeting. She was very supportive and gave me tips on increasing my milk production and dealing with the doctors and nurses, but wisely avoided telling me whether or not to allow formula. So when we went back I told the nurse I'd visit as much as possible and pump like crazy to get my milk production up, and to please continue with the sugar water until I was making enough milk. She agreed, but you could tell she thought we were negligent.

Luckily I had used my time alone in my room to set up a breast pump rental. Hideaki and I went home, and if felt so strange to arrive alone, but we weren't worried. We knew he was where he should be, but we still felt a bit lonely. Every couple of hours I pumped with the crappy little hand-held pump I had been smart enough to buy before the birth, and then the next day the fancy rental pump arrived. I had lots of milk to bring on our visit that day.

On the weekend (which meant Hideaki and I could go together) we did two long visits each day. The hospital is far from our apartment: a bus and two train rides away, and because I was still weak we could only go once a day, but we stayed long enough for two visiting slots with a meal in between. Very tiring for me but rewarding and Shuma was always so content when we left.

About that head. We at first just assumed that it was stretched out from the delivery, like we'd heard (the trip through the birth canal squeezes the baby's head and can stay like that for a few days). But eventually the doctor explained that it was a birth injury called "caput succedaneum". According to Healthline: "A long, difficult labor with a lot of pushing can cause this condition... Scalp swelling may be more likely if the amniotic sac membranes rupture early in labor. In some cases, if the membranes rupture very early or if there is too little fluid in the amniotic sac, the mother’s pelvic bones will put pressure on the infant’s head." Well bingo. I would also find out that I had a bruised tailbone, caused by the same pressure. I found this out when a midwife caught me sitting wrong (naughty me) and I explained it hurt to sit normally and she said "Oh, that's because you have a really bad bruise there". Yeah, thanks for telling me. Anyway, both my bruise and his swollen conehead lasted a few weeks. I stopped feeling sorry for myself when I heard from my sister that her son had actually broken her tailbone during childbirth.

And then it was Monday, and Hideaki went off to work leaving me to pump and dread having to visit by myself. Of course Atsuko had offered to help but I was afraid she was exhausting herself so I was ready to go alone, but then the phone rang and it was the doctor saying Shuma was ready to be released and could I come pick him up today please?

So I entered into a flurry of planning. Hideaki couldn't leave work early enough so Atsuko had to come after all. I tried calling up the special taxi service we'd registered with, whose taxis come with car seats, but they require a reservation a day in advance so couldn't help me. But what could I do, ask the hospital to keep him for another day? We'd have to carry him home in a regular taxi. So I went and Atsuko and Marya met me there and helped me with the paperwork and I was relieved to find out that I didn't owe a million dollars. In fact Shuma's whole hospital stay cost us nothing (as opposed to the midwife clinic, which cost over 600,000 yen- about $6000 Canadian).

Shuma was released and we were allowed to wait in the waiting room until Hideaki to finish work, and there Atsuko taught me how to use my sling, oversaw my first solo diaper change, and watched us nurse for the first time without supervision. I wished I could have taken her home with us because there was so much I hadn't been able to learn, but she had her own birth coming up soon and her own child to care for (who was intently watching everything, in anticipation of her brother's arrival).

Hideaki arrived and we said good-bye to Atsuko and Marya and we caught a taxi home. I was relieved it was all over, but knew that also it was only just starting.

To be continued (maybe in another 3 years?).

Comments

[A]

First comment. Thank you for sharing this story. The midwife clinic sounds so ughhh... they made 1 grand a day...not sure what for! It reminds me of the worn down place my grandmother stayed at for a month to rehabilitate after a knee injury. The nurse aids only came by to give medicine or poorly made meals. My heart aches for how you felt so alone at the midwife clinic. In the future, I will definitely reach out more to my grandmother's hospital roommates in the future.

[Maria J. Cepa]

Happy Birthday Shuma James from Seattle!

[Aspasia]

This story makes me both happy and sad, for various reasons. I wish I could have been there to offer a bit of moral support. Also, reading what you went through--which I'm sure isn't terribly unusual in terms of the pain and exhaustion--makes me even more shocked that hospitals here send women home the next day.

Also, out of curiosity--how is sugar water a better option than formula?

[Aspasia]

Oh, and happy belated birthday, Shuma :)

[joeinvegas]

Wow, your stay does not sound good, but at least the final result looks OK - Hey Shuma!!

[JH]

Wow, and there was I thinking I had a difficult birth experience- 4 hours pushing, triple episiotomy, ventouse assisted birth, about 15 stitches, and a day of fainting every time I tried to sit up, but really that pales in experience to what you went through! I honestly don't know how you managed to take a taxi to a hospital and back to be sewn up and then commute to the NICU every day with a tear, I really don't think I would have been able to do it!

Sorry to hear Shuma had a rough start, but he seems like a very happy healthy boy now, and is one of the few newborns I have seen who was actually cute from birth-other than my son of course ;)

[Kim]

Thank you for writing this :)
I haven't written out my son's birth story as it was quite traumatic (Emergency C-Section where I stopped breathing 12 times). Your story made me cry several times as I could feel your frustrations, your sorrow and your love. I've been reading along long before Shuma arrived in the world and I appreciate your story-telling skills. I'm grateful I wasn't pregnant during the three years I lived in Japan. I had enough problems with the language barrier day-to-day; I can't imagine giving birth there! Despite how you felt at the time, you did a great job! With the tools you had and the challenges you faced, you were successful. And look at Shuma today! Good job Mom!

[Amy]

A, I think the midwife clinic would have been great had Shuma been able to stay (and the place itself is quite nice and new, but I've been to old run-down hospitals in Japan and know exactly what you mean. Nasty). And the whole thing might have been just as awful in a big hospital. I'll never know. Although I have so many bad memories of that time, I am comforted and grateful that both my son and I made it through OK. I'm very lucky in that Japan is one of the safest places to have a baby.

Thanks Maria!

Aspasia, I know! I don't know how those moms do it. Of course they are much more likely to have a partner at home to help, and to have gotten an epidural (so may not be so completely wiped out). But still. And there is definitely a correlation between infant mortality and length of post-partum hospital stay.

Some babies get used to the taste of formula and that can cause problems with establishing breastfeeding, so we really wanted to avoid it. Sugar water is pretty standard here and it would have been impossible to refuse- as far as the docs and nurses were concerned, he needed *something* in his tummy. So I guess we just figured the sugar water was the lesser of two evils.

Joe, I know! I think it all worked out pretty well :)

JH, no no no, let's not compare! I'm probably just a bigger whiner than you. Triple episiotomy? I don't even. I mean. Good lord. Your son better be worth it!

Kim, I know I just said let's not compare birth stories, but scrap that- you win. I'm glad you started breathing again (12 times!). Yes it was hard for me, but I really do think I was lucky to give birth in Japan- one of the safest places in the world to give birth, for mother and baby. A lot of the stuff that went wrong could have been prevented if I'd researched a bit more, chosen a place more carefully, had a proper birth plan written out etc. But thanks!

[Bloodstripewife.wordpress.com]

Thanks for sharing your story! My husband and I have talked about having a baby while we're in Japan, and I'm curious about the midwife houses. Looks like I'll have to take a hard look at my options! Can I just say though that Shuma is about the cutest newborn ever?? Congrats!