Pitocin and Bonding

During a recent laundry folding session I finally saw the end of "The Business of Being Born". It affected me differently now that I had my idyllic home birth than when I was watching it the first time while pregnant. When I reached the part that talked about how pitocin can interfere with bonding I realized why. My second birth experience was a typical hospital birth. I had few birth options in the area where we lived, and the furthest I could get from an OB/GYN was a practice hosting a dozen or so midwives who could only be seen at random. Labor began as an on and off affair early in the morning. Contractions would start and hurt, then after a few hours ease and go away. We worked our way to the hospital in the evening via the mall where we stopped to buy the new baby a toy. I had to stop a number of times in the mall and breath through contractions. We got to the hospital at 9pm. After determining I was 4 centimeters dilated, I was given two Tylenol, and told to wait until morning. My water was broken when the morning shift was ready to get to work. My carefully orchestrated, multiple-position birth plan went out the window soon into the birth procedure. Nurses told me I was welcome to push aside beeping instruments and hop off the high, railed, inclined bed in my hiney-baring gown between fetal monitoring episodes. Gee, thanks. Within hours of my water being broken pitocin was begun. A few hours later I was still on my back unable to move because contractions were right on top of each other, and I had only progressed to 7 centimeters. I told Todd it was time for IV pain medication. When I was struggling with Evan's birth this was the thing that relaxed me enough to get him out. Wouldn't you know it within 30 minutes of receiving a calming drug in a crazy unfamiliar environment Nina was born. The last thing I remember before lapsing into an exhausted sleep was seeing Nina across the room on a table with a light over it. She was surrounded by nurses I didn't know doing some routine thing that was somehow more vital than leaving me with my baby. I always knew that it took me two weeks to really bond with my new baby. I attributed it to having a toddler and a baby at home. I never experience any post-partum depression with any of my babies. This was due in part to the fact that I made a deal with myself after moaning and groaning my way through pregnancy that I had better be grateful when it was over. Following Cory's completely successful, totally perfect birth and experiencing the pure elation I felt after it, I looked differently at that two week period. Watching the documentary again and looking into the matter further has virtually convinced me of the profound difference between the synthetic and natural hormones.
The information I have found lists the typical cautions about labor augmented by pitocin. These are the fact that pitocin is administered in a continual drip whereas the natural hormone oxytocin is delivered in waves from the brain, giving the body time to rest. Because oxytocin emanates from the brain it sets in play brain functions that act as a morphine type blocker of pain, which is why pitocin contractions tend to hurt more and require synthetic pain reliever to endure. The stress to the baby with these powerful unnatural contractions and to the mother lead to many complications, and often further interventions. The information I was most interested in was the idea that natural oxytocin when it courses out of the brain provides a sense of trust and love that promotes bonding. Oxytocin is beginning to be called the love hormone for it's affects in birth, breast-feeding and even sex. This was the missing piece. I experienced the bonding in a muted, delayed fashion after Evan's birth. I reveled in the explosion of well-being I felt after Cory's birth, and I never got that head start with Nina. Only after two weeks of breast-feeding had I gained the closeness I had lost due to exposure to pitocin.
For me the affect was minimal, and Nina and I recovered with no harm done. But I wonder, if it is true that pitocin can inhibit bonding in the way it absolutely seemed to do in my case, what could that mean to a future generation so dependent on it? What does that mean for the low income mothers that have no choice but to go with the provider medicaid dictates who is likely to be a habitual pitocin user. Then they are provided with free formula via WIC so there is no need for them to attempt to breast feed therefore stifling any chance oxytocin has of promoting natural bonding. Combine this with the daily stress and disadvantaged upbringing that many of the poor are burdened with and where does that leave their children?
I look forward to what science can determine about this link or the lack thereof. In the meantime I hope we don't look at birth with the same cold eyes as an elementary dissection. We know love is not a luxury to a baby and a child, and I believe we ought to invest in allowing every mother to feel as much connection to her offspring as she can for her own sake, but especially for that of our future generation.

You may want to check out these links for more information:
Birthing Naturally
Oxytocin:Wikipedia
5 ways Pitocin is Different than Oxytocin
These are just the beginning. Keep looking and see what you might find.

The Birth of Cory

As far as peak experiences go I am still reveling in my latest. It happened on October 1, 2010 when my new son entered the world. The evening began routinely enough. Todd was out, and I put all of the kids to bed. I was working on cleaning the kitchen, when the baby started putting pressure on my sciatic nerve. This had been happening many evenings over the last few weeks. It gave me a shooting pain down my leg, that usually made me stumble and indicated it was time for me to take a break. Normally the pain went away when I sat or laid down. I decided to take a bath. This was the first time I remember the pains continuing when I was sitting in the bath. Then Todd came home and I sat on the bed to talk to him a bit. We were in the midst of conversation when I paused and said, “Oh, I think my water broke.” I trotted into the bathroom, and we discussed our next step. I was not convinced that it was my water, because I had suspected my water had broken with Nina, and I was wrong. I was also concerned because I knew that if my water did break, then I was on the clock. I checked online to see how much time I had left to deliver the baby before I would have to give up my home birth dream once again. I was prepared for a two day labor as my other labors had been. Todd was the optimist, however. He was all smiles. “I know your water broke. That is so great! We are going to have this baby soon!” He kept saying. He called the midwife and while he was still on the phone with her I had my first contraction, then another. They already hurt and could not be mistaken for anything else. The midwife told me what signs to look for to make sure my water was indeed broken, and as she was talking to me on the phone she became confident that it had broken by what I was telling her. She advised us to get some rest and call her in the morning or when the contractions were 3 to 5 minutes apart. She assured me that if labor didn’t continue progressing she had some natural remedies we could try before going to the hospital, and that helped ease my mind.
So we all settled in to relax and wait. Todd made a list of things we needed from the store, like the two gallon ziplock bags I wasn't sure we had, but the midwife would need, and snacks that I thought I could tolerate. (One of my problems with Evan’s labor was that everything I tried to eat I threw up, so I was determined to start snacking immediately) Todd fixed me up with an episode of Star Trek NG, and put my phone with my favorite music on it by my side. I took some Tylenol PM as part of my plan to sleep through the first night of labor. Following the Star Trek episode, I started my labor sound track. I realized very soon into the music that sleep would not be an option. The contractions were distracting, but I did my best to ignore them, or relax into them. I imagined dilating, and flowers blooming, and meeting my baby and every positive labor thought I had discovered over the previous 9 months. I thought about how wonderful it was that my body could handle labor, that every pain was natural and normal and doing the work to bring my baby to me and end the torment of my pregnancy. By the time Todd got back from the store (and sneaked in a quick meal from Wendy’s since he suspected labor might take a couple days and he remembered how hungry he got with Evan and Nina’s labors) I thought I should get at least an idea how far apart the contractions were. He gave me his i-pod touch with a stopwatch app pulled up, so we could see how long the contractions were as well as the time in between. When I started timing, the contractions were between three and five minutes apart. Within less than thirty minutes they were 2-3 minutes apart or less, and Todd was on the phone to the midwife.
She packed up and came over. I wondered if she was getting ahead of things, because I didn’t really believe I could be very far along. When she got to the house I was no longer listening to music. I was on my feet because my body had told me to walk. She began to get her things in order and asked if I felt any pressure. I told her, yes, and she told me to push any time I felt like it. “Really?” I asked. I was so amazed I couldn’t believe it. She checked me and said I was at nine centimeters. I was just flabbergasted. I had never known what nine centimeters felt like before. I hung onto Todd standing for a few contractions, and then I really wanted to be on my knees so I dragged Todd down with me so I could hang on him. The contractions were strong, but nothing compared to my other two labors. I credit this with my own determination not to fight them this time. During one contraction I remember thinking “I can’t do this anymore”. Immediately after my mind voiced that concern I remembered a friend had recently talked about a chemical being released during transition that tends to produce a feeling of panic, but provides the final burst of energy the body needs toward the end of labor. “Yay, I’m in transition!” was my next thought. I was completely giving in to my body by then, and making weird low sounds. I was not self conscious, I was not thinking about what I was expected to do, just what I was told in my head to do. I had breaks between my contractions right up until the end. There was a moment when I thought, forget the breaks, let’s have all the contractions and just get this done. I was keenly aware my clear-headedness. In my previous two labors I was so obsessed with the pain and so exhausted by the length of labor I had no energy to produce a clear thought. The midwife just sat back and let my body go. She was my confident, quiet support. She told me merely to push when I felt ready. Then I felt it. For the first time in my life I felt the urge to push, and I did. I felt the baby moving, slowly at first. I felt his head almost come out, and slide back in twice. I felt for a moment like I was pushing against something that wouldn’t budge, then burning and stretching, then his head was out. His body was out in the next push and it was over. I saw him lying behind me on a pad on the floor as the midwife checked him and cleaned him up a bit. I just exclaimed “Oh my gosh!” over and over. I couldn’t believe he was out already. The room was dim, and quiet, almost romantic. My baby was out and crying. The midwife said he was a bit blue because the cord was around his neck slightly, but he pinked right up, and he was perfect. Todd held him, then I got on the bed and held him. Wow, what an amazing moment. That labor was nothing like my previous ones, and it was everything I could have ever hoped for. The labor altogether lasted only 5 hours, leaving us 5 more hours to rest before the kids woke up and we were able to introduce them to their new brother. I conked out, but Todd couldn’t sleep as his watchful father instinct took over. After losing Evan to the NICU during his first few hours of fatherhood, he was forever vigilant lest anything happen to another newborn of ours on his watch. He stayed awake all night to make sure our new son was completely fine. And he was.
The kids and I were scheduled to go with my parents to the farmer’s market in the morning. Todd and I had called them when labor began to let them know plans may change, but we very likely would be calling on them the next day for childcare during labor if nothing else. Todd had fun calling them in the morning to inform them their newest grandchild was already here. They came over with breakfast in hand and were able to watch the kids for us through dinner time, giving me an absolutely peaceful first day with Todd and my son. As a matter of fact we had a blissful first weekend with our family. I couldn’t have asked for anything more perfect.
What a contrast between a day and a half of hard labor at home followed by a hospital transfer and an infected baby who had to spent his first week in the NICU (Evan’s labor), and this last five hour labor with a healthy boy at the end. I knew the difference was completely in my head. It was my choice of confidence, and peace. It was trusting myself and my body, and having no fear. I thought about how amazing and strong the connection was between my thoughts and my body and I wondered what that could mean in the everyday situations I face. What could that connection mean to my health, as well as my mental state. I controlled my labor with my mind. Could I also control my stress levels? my heart health? the speed my body ages? Am I ready to take responsibility for my health by determining to control my thoughts? What is the best way to think? I am not the only one wondering these things, and I am definitely not the most educated on this connection, but after experiencing this for myself I can no longer look at my thoughts as innocent ideas flitting through my head. They are important, and it is high time I learn to use them better.