The Story of Baby G ~ Part One

Geo Ray Chemerisov Smith was born eight months ago. My mind and heart have held the intent to write his "birth story," and I wonder why it has taken me so much time to get around to it. Are there things from those first magical days that maybe now I don't even recall? Or has it not been very long at all? As the concept of time itself has completely transformed for me, perhaps eight months are merely a minute. Indeed, the deep blue of this child's eyes and the radiance of his smile take me far and deep into the presence of eternal love. 
And eternal love = outside the concept of time. 

Speaking of timing, this kid was two weeks "early." Per the typical means of calculating such things (peeing in a cup at Planned Parenthood after a positive pee test at home after throwing up my morning coffee one day), we were expecting him on or around December 2, 2014. He arrived on November 18, as if preferring to spend his life reading Scorpio horoscopes instead of those for Sagittarius. Rather, as if he wanted me to spend his life reading those horoscopes… who knows if Geo will be as astrologically curious as his mama? 

Throwing up that coffee was not my only clue regarding being pregnant. There were very specific conversations between myself and my love, Eric, which added a little dose of irony to the initiation of the gestation. Perhaps this should be kept private, but it amuses me so much that I'd like to include it in my son's story:

Eric and I had been dating for a little less than a year, and very much in love. We had discussed having a child in the far-away future, but we suddenly realized we weren't being "careful" enough to keep that future actually far away. And so we went out of our way to start taking extra precaution (no need to go into detail on this one, but you get the idea). Literally the last instance of not-yet-enough-precaution-taking was the day that Geo was conceived. Ha! I even wondered if this little being began its cellular divisions on or after the day we started to use better "protection." As if he was so ready and eager to join this world with us as his parents, nothing was stopping him. 

He couldn't have chosen a lovelier setting out of my life. Eric and I were spending a weekend at Sierraville Hot Springs, an amazing little getaway in the Tahoe National Forest. We had driven up from Grass Valley where we were living at the time. The gorgeousness of the scenery was amplified by our relaxation and elation... tall trees, clear skies, crisp air and soothing healing waters.  We slept at a picturesque inn, and hiked through the forest to get to the springs. During one of our walks a whole slew of deer ran past us, one stopping amidst the trees to stare right into our eyes. 

Returning to Grass Valley, we went to work - Eric on the farm, and I on my drawing and painting. Springtime was blossoming all around us as I indulged in sunny porch-sitting with the cats, strolls through the woods with the dogs, solo sessions on the yoga mat, and eager inspiration with my artwork. Our beautiful housemates buzzed about, gardening and homesteading, complete with chickens and bunnies. I was so uplifted by these surroundings that my inner world was lit up as well. I regained a confidence within myself, and went on an audition for a play (having not done any theater for many years, though I had majored in it in college). Community theater is quite strong in the Nevada County area where Grass Valley is situated, and I was excited to be cast as one of the leading pirates in a production of Peter Pan. 

Before rehearsals were to begin, Eric and I road-tripped to Colorado to visit his family in Aspen for a week. I am not a good skier in ANY way, but I sure did enjoy taking photos wearing the helmet. Also enjoyable were those incredible snowy peaks of soaring mountains, higher than any I've ever seen! The pure whiteness of all the snow, the warm connections with family, the mellow touristy outings I got to enjoy in a place I've always wanted to visit… were all really wonderful. Except, I couldn't quite shake this recurring sensation of unexplained nausea. "Must be the elevation," I kept repeating. 

After some more hot-spring soaking in a quaint, quiet Colorado boondocks called Orvis, we journeyed back to California through the ancient rock formations of Moab, Utah. I pointed my camera through the car windows at the gray day blessed by rainfall. The red rocks awed us with their grandeur, while we whirled through the roads between. Hiking up to the famous Delicate Arch would've normally been easy for me, but I huffed and puffed. Endless expanses of prehistoric beauty stretched all around us, reminding me of many dreamscapes I've flown through and scenes I've imagined in my mind… The depths and curves of our planet, the colors and textures of its form - like our bodies' skin and the tales it tells - the body of the Earth, and her land. 

Standing at that precipice, 
beneath a colorless yet ever-beautiful sky on that rainy day, 
honored with the chance to stare into and beyond those ravines, 
how could I not have known
that new life was growing within me? 
{My moon cycle was indeed off, it's not like I didn't have a hint!} 
In fact, yes, 
I knew. 
I didn't quite comprehend it in my full consciousness yet,
but at that moment,
in that earthy portal,
standing still and breathing deep, 
I knew. 

We returned to Grass Valley and continued our colorful lifestyle… hiking, gardening, river-swimming. I drew and painted several new pieces, practiced my yoga, and… waited for my period. I contemplated: if I am pregnant, will I still want to attend rehearsals and then perform in the play? Will I still want to live in Northern CA away from my family? Am I ready to become a mother? I sort of felt that I was not. But I also knew that there is never a true state of being "ready," and that the possibility of new life is a huge opportunity and blessing. 

Having somehow forgotten how nauseous I had been in Colorado and how late my cycle was, I found myself slightly surprised one morning when I threw up my coffee and toast. So I hurried to Kmart and bought a pregnancy test. As I did so, I realized that the little digital reader on that stick would only be confirming what I already knew. Indeed, the little screen even said I was "3+" weeks. 

I worried about Eric's response. But he also already knew. He held my hands and hugged me close and said he would support anything I wanted to do. My heart knew that we could be amazing parents, yet my mind still ran through all kinds of reservations. It would still take several weeks before I felt fully committed to the pregnancy and huge change which would occur in our lives. Those weeks were some of the most challenging of my life.  Even though I was blessed with no further nausea or morning sickness, I was aware that my hormones were affecting my moods, and those moods began to affect my sense of comfort in my surroundings. I suddenly didn't want to be pregnant in a home with housemates (though I loved my roommates as if they were my siblings), and I didn't want to be in the play, and I didn't want to be so far away from my family. Suddenly, after two years of pursuing my dream of living in the countryside and being an artist, I wanted to be back in the middle of West Hollywood, as close to my Mom and Papa as I could be.

Eric had already committed to the full season on his farm, so even though he was understanding and supportive of my desire to move back to LA, he wouldn't be able to join me until the end of October. The baby was "due" December 2. We discussed every option for my staying or moving away, I spent time away from the house, I visited my parents (the moment when I told my Mother I was pregnant was so exciting! She literally jumped up and down all around the room).  I still went to the read-through/first rehearsal for the play, thinking maybe I won't drop out. Maybe I'll stick it out here in gorgeous Gold Country and bathe my belly in that magical Yuba River which I love so much. Maybe these moods will pass and I'll continue loving to live in this lovely home in the woods with the dogs and cats and bunnies and chickens. How can I just leave my love, my Eric, and have a "long distance relationship" while I carry his child? How can I expect to just move back to the city which had once driven me crazy? None of my brainstorms made much sense. My heart just felt it. It just wanted home. It wanted my Mom. I felt small and afraid. And northern CA was where I had come to feel big and brave. Retreating to LA at that time was definitely one of the hardest decisions I ever made.

After I quit and apologized to the director of the play, bid adieu to my friends and to the lovely little towns of Grass Valley and Nevada City which I had come to love so much, my sweet Eric packed up my car and bid me farewell after many kisses and long hugs. I treasure this man's ability to let go, and to trust. I treasure his dedication to his work, to which he knew he must remain committed, in order to secure a savings for our first year as parents. We knew that had he picked up and left with me at that time, there would not be a better opportunity for him in LA. We knew that I had to safeguard my sanity and follow my heart's yearning for my Mother, for it was her energy that I needed most. I was to become a mother myself! I had been so fortunate to be raised by this amazing woman, and yet, after high school I had scooted off to college and after that to traveling abroad and after that, living all over different parts of LA…  I suddenly wanted to just live with HER some more! With her and my Papa. The two most incredible and magical people I have ever known. Before I began life as a parent, I wanted one last summer with my sweet parents taking care of me. How truly lucky I was, and am! 

Settling into my old bedroom at home was comforting, although it had transformed into Papa's photo studio over the years. I enjoyed the minimal furnishings and blank walls painted in neutral grays. I felt I had a clean slate. I could dream and meditate in there easily. Though the rest of the pregnancy would be emotionally challenging without Eric at my side, my mental and physical well-being were assured. 

While enjoying time with my parents, kitty cats, and reconnecting with old friends, I began to voraciously consume natural-childbirth books, websites, articles, forums, and documentaries. I started by reading the classic, Childbirth Without Fear by Dr. Grantly Dick Read. I was motivated to birth my baby with as little medical intervention as possible. I downloaded hypnobirthing sessions, followed along with prenatal yoga videos, binge-watched Call The Midwife on Netflix, and read tons of birth stories. Upon my first visit to the obstetrician, I scooped up a stack of pregnancy magazines which a sign on the waiting room coffee table offered for the taking. I did most of  my reading and researching in that first trimester. 

 I was actually a bit obsessive with the reading. Perhaps not so much with the reading, as with my note-taking. I missed Eric and needed to fill my spare time, so I compiled pages upon pages of notes on natural birth, holistic pain management, doulas, midwifery, and a subject which I'd always wanted to explore: the history of bellydancing as a birth dance. 

After a while I grew tired of scrawling in my notebook and just bagan snapping photos of favorite pages out of the books. I wanted to hold on to every morsel of information. I was dedicated to creating my perfect birth. Little did I know… you just can't quite plan these things! But my over-zealous mind kept documenting my favorite writings and inspiring bits of information. As if I could orchestrate a perfect birth experience by studying for it. 

Another fun way I kept my mind off of missing my man, and engaged in creative visualization of the colorful beauty which was to be the culmination of my pregnancy, was to collect images of artwork representing pregnant women:*


*I wish I could source and credit more of these images than I am able to, but unfortunately I was not thorough enough in my collecting. I saved the artist name where I could, but otherwise the image was floating around the internet anonymously, as it will continue to do here… (if anyone knows any info about any for these that are un-credited, please comment!)

At this point I think I'll skip the slideshow of the myriad of pregnancy, birth, and baby websites I bookmarked. Let's just say, I kept my curiosity and imagination quite busy.


The summer home in LA was truly splendid. At two months pregnant, I ventured to the beach and snapped my first belly shot. I wasn't really showing yet, but I stuck it out as fas as possible... 

At Solstice, I created an altar with some recent artwork, my favorite crystals, a family photo, 
and intentions for a healthy pregnancy, birth, and life for my child:

I went to get the first ultrasound. Even though I didn't get to share that moment with Geo's Papa, it was sweet having my Mom come along. (She squealed much more than I did.) And of course, I called Eric right afterwards. We learned that we would be having a boy! 

And soon after that, oh joy! Eric and I were reunited! We indulged in a week of sweet sunshine at his parents' beachfront summer place in Oceanside, CA. Floating in the water with my pregnant belly felt so wonderful! We took photos of my 5-month tummy in front of my favorite mural, and I posted it on facebook as the announcement of our happy news. I was so touched to see how many friends old and new responded and congratulated us!

Eric then spent a few days in LA before heading back up north. We did a long hike in Topanga Canyon, hung out with old friends of mine, and cherished each other's company as much as we could. It was tough, yet again, to part with him - but I observed that I had matured in a certain way. Earlier in my life I would never quite be able to let a partner go and exist without him physically near to me at all times. Suddenly here, I was able to part with my beloved, wait for our reunion at a future point, and find a way to utilize and almost enjoy the energy of missing and longing - devoting myself to meditating on the health and happiness of our child and family, and writing about the sensations of romantic love, familial love, love for the world, and this new exciting mystery of upcoming motherhood. I continued reading birth materials and collecting pregnancy art, swimming in the ocean as much as I could (on lovely beach trips with my Mom), chatting with Eric on the phone every evening, drawing in my sketchbook, and enjoying the City of Angels. 

Soon enough it was time for my trip north, where I got to spend a week on Eric's farm in the beautiful woodlands! Fresh food from the garden, delicious well water, a billion stars at night, and a trip to the Yuba River made it a truly special time. Memories of the silent forest, while sleeping in the cozy tent beside my love, with our baby growing inside me, will stay with me forever. 

Back home in LA, my best and oldest childhood friend Lena threw us a beautiful baby shower. Eric came down (just for the day), as did his parents (his mom brought so many baby clothes, Geo's wardrobe was set for pretty much his entire first year!). My closest family and friends celebrated with us, and I enlisted the cooperation of all the ladies to join me in a "Birthdance" circle. In my research on the origins of bellydance, it was this circle idea which had inspired me most. In ancient times, women would gather around the laboring mother, undulating their hips in order to help her likewise move her body and encourage the baby to pass into the world. Of course I wasn't in labor at the shower - but we danced in a circle nevertheless, to honor the ancient tradition, and to bond as women. It meant a lot to me to have my best friends there, along with my Mom, my Aunt Marina, Lena's Mom Regina who is like an aunt to me, and my amazing little niece (who's really my cousin but I like to call her niece) Rachel. (And not so little anymore either, as she recently turned 13, and I again had to to pause and marvel, how quickly "time" really does run. It runs so quickly, my Baby G will be 13 in a few blinks… I better breathe and enjoy every moment!)

I spent the following month offering a weekly Prenatal Bellydance Class at Elderberries, my favorite little vegan cafe in Hollywood. While I didn't have a huge turnout, I did connect with a couple of fellow pregnant women in a special way. This lovely lady, pictured below, later wrote to me to say she had a wonderful birthing experience, and was empowered by what we had discussed in class. I may not have reached hundreds of ladies, but the few that I did, meant the world to me! Not to mention that I grew a lot as a woman and instructor, as short term as the class was. It gave me a glimpse of what kind of effect I'd like to make once I have my own studio in the future!

Seven months pregnant now, and it had been a beautiful summer. I was feeling wonderful. At my next ob/gyn prenatal visit, however, a challenge arose.  "Everything looks great. Fluid is good. Baby's weight is good," my doctor said while viewing the ultrasound. "But we have one issue."

My heart heaved and I froze. 

"See his head…

we want it to be here…" He pointed towards my groin. 

"But right now, it's here…" He pointed towards my diaphragm. 

My perfect little baby was breech!

Ah nooooo! Everything had been going so right! I was doing all the right things! I was STUDYING dangit!

Well, here was my opportunity to let go of what I thought to be "right" and "perfect." The doc said the baby could still turn, and I was only at 32 weeks. I began voraciously googling - when do babies turn, how to turn babies, how to have vaginal breech birth. I lamented all the over-zealous squats and lunges I had done on my yoga mat, even though the doctor said, "It was nothing you did. It just happens." 

I read that it happens to only 4% of pregnancies! I learned that no doctors in California, except for two, deliver breech babies "naturally." I cringed at my doctor when he said, "If he doesn't turn by 38 weeks, we have to schedule a c-section for week 39." Oh my sweet lovely doctor. I had adored him up until that moment. Suddenly, he said the words I had dreaded most. Suddenly I didn't adore him so much. 

But I still had time. Time which was spent in not the most stress-free ways… in that I still missed my Eric, and I was apartment-hunting relentlessly all over town. Hot, sweaty, and very pregnant is how I remember all those viewings and visits to tiny pads in Los Feliz and beyond. Thank goodness the search finally ended with a lovely little home right here in Hollywood close to my parents! But it did take over two months, and a lot of running around. 

Thankfully, by the time I was moving in on November 1st, my man was moving south! Finally, we were together, cuddled in our little city nook - which was quite the change for him, coming from the woods!
Eric had worked so hard, been such a good sport, and was now at my side. I was so happy and so grateful, 
even though our baby wasn't in the ideal position for the "natural" birth I had been imagining. 

We were determined to try everything to get him head-down. I practiced all sorts of techniques and stretches, gentle inversions, and meditations. We sought out a well-known chiropractor who specializes in turning babies. He gave us some mugwort incense to burn near an acupressure point at my pinky toe (a Chinese medicine technique called moxibustion, to stimulate movement in the abdomen). As with many challenges, this practice turned out to be an amazingly positive endeavor, as it brought Eric and me super close into a mutual meditation. I would dim the lights and put on a brain-wave entrainment music track (theta waves work great for relaxation and healing), lounge back on our sofa with my feet propped up, and Eric would hold the incense stick (much thicker than regular incense, but not smokey, just very hot)  near my left toe for fifteen minutes, then my right, alternating a few times. It was so cool to sit together in such a way, and drift into a trance state, with the shared intention of moving our little baby. 

After my second massage and chiropractic session with Dr. Berlin, we went into my OB for another ultrasound, hopeful that our attempts at turning the baby had worked. They hadn't. 

I was at 37 weeks. We continued the moxibustion, and began thinking about the option of an ECV (external cephalic version), which is a procedure where the OB tries to turn the baby by pressing with his fists on the belly. This creeped me out for some reason. Despite youtube videos where the woman is laying there all relaxed and then is elated once it's successful, I felt terrible nervousness at the idea. As a person who wanted a home birth when I first learned I was pregnant, suddenly I was feeling like a c-section actually scared me less than the ECV. I know that sounds strange, and it felt strange. But that's what my intuition was. 

Before I explain why I ended up not having to go through with an ECV, I'll summarize why I chose not to have a home birth. It came down to not wanting to alienate my family. It's not that my parents are overly traditional, but the idea of not having the baby at a hospital worried them. If you're thinking I shouldn't base my decisions on what my parents think, you're right. But at this point in my life, I observed that I had just spent an entire decade of going against my parents' opinions and preferences. Bellydancing as a career, living in Egypt for a year, moving away, etc. Not that they didn't agree with my needing to find my own way and make my own choices… but they might've preferred I not spend all my savings on life abroad or live 800 miles away by the time I did move back to the states… Either way, at 31 years old, when I learned I was pregnant, I found my heart yearning to reinstate the magical bond I had had with my parents as their only child. I resolved to allow my instinct to guide my decisions, and as strong as I had thought my instinct for a home birth had been, the desire to defend it and make it happen just wasn't there. Eric had preferred a home birth, but was still  supportive of my every whim. We looked into many birthing centers and doulas, but when it came down to it, I felt most comfortable with the doc I was hooked up with through my insurance. I could've researched a million more providers and locations, but it wouldn't have mattered. When I first saw my doc and looked into his kind, blue eyes, I knew he would bring my child into the world. He wasn't a woman, and it wouldn't be at home, or even in a tub of water,  but I was completely ok with that.


I will share the rest of my story in another blog post soon, which will be the actual "birth story." I suppose this has this has been more of a "pregnancy story..."

This photo is with my best childhood friend, Lena. She had a lovely idea to get a photo of the two of us together while both pregnant. She was at about 4 months, and I was at 9 (Geo was born a day after this photo was taken). Her second child, a beautiful baby boy, was born about two months ago. I am so excited for her, and for her kids to be friends with my Baby G. It will be amazing watching them grow up, being moms together, as we had once been little kids together. So grateful for these life cycles of joy and love. 

See you back here soon, for the story of Geo's birth! 

Thank you for reading! 

Photo by Alex Chemerisov alexchemer.com