This is just a lovely Birth Story - peaceful and natural and uninterrupted.... the way birth is meant to be!!!
Showing posts with label Birth Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Birth Story. Show all posts
Sunday, November 14, 2010
"Keep Calm and Carry On"- UC Birth Story of Eliza
This is just a lovely Birth Story - peaceful and natural and uninterrupted.... the way birth is meant to be!!!
By Meghan Schoenborn
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Birth Story: Kim's Twins
A great story of a mom who has a natural vaginal birth for her twins after walking out on the OB that wanted to give her an automatic caesarean section.
My first pregnancy 9 years ago was a multiple pregnancy which automatically put me in the high risk category. I didn’t see anything high risk about it until I started looking for an OB. I live in Central Texas and at 22 years old, had little knowledge of birth or the stigma that has grown up around natural birthing. I just knew that I DID NOT want to have surgery if I could avoid it. Imagine my shock when physician after physician told me that they would not even let me attempt a vaginal birth because I was carrying twins. I can’t remember how many times I heard the words “automatic section” while pregnant with my boys.
Finally, I found a new-to-town doctor who was more than willing to let me attempt a vaginal birth. His only request was that I have an epidural and birth in the operating room just in case a c-section became unavoidable. I decided that I could deal with the epidural. Dr. Brian Becker of Waco Center for Women’s Health was easy going and had no trouble talking me about any test or procedure.
I was diagnosed with Intracranial Hypertension during my pregnancy after months of severe headaches and finally a lumbar puncture to relieve the pressure on my brain. My neurologist prescribed Diamox to help with the spinal fluid pressure and as he handed me the script, he told me that he had never given this medication to a pregnant woman before because it had caused birth defects in animals during drug trials. I immediately burst into tears and told him that I would not take the medication. He was very gruff and said that if I did not take it, I could lose my vision. I remember leaving his office in a daze and as I walked through the medical complex, I ran into a staff member of Dr. Becker’s office. The office was closed, but she immediately took me inside to talk to Dr. Becker. He sat with me and calmed me down while he explained that Diamox was actually a Class C drug that was really no different than the pain medications that I had been taking to help with the headaches. Now, this was after hours and this doctor was sitting there holding my hand while I bawled like a child! I look back now and am just in awe.
I started having regular contractions on a Saturday night and went to the hospital. Unfortunately, Dr. Becker was not on call. The on call doctor kept me overnight and on Sunday morning told me that he was going to prep me for the O.R. I told him that my doctor had told me that my boys were both head down and that we had planned to at least attempt a vaginal birth. Now, I’ve come to see this doctor in my head as an evil little old doctor with large spectacles wringing his hands and telling me that he only delivered twins by c-section. If I’m honest with myself, I see an older gentleman with gray hair in a white coat. I told him that if that was the case, he would not be delivering my babies and I walked out. I had never done anything like that in my life and was instantly terrified. What if I had just killed my babies because I was afraid (and being completely honest now, I was terrified!) of having a surgery that millions of women have every year? I remember calling Dr. Becker’s office very early the next morning and being completely comforted by him and his staff. I had expected anger and shame! But they told me that I had done the right thing! And since my contractions were no longer regular, they would just see me on Thursday when I had already had an appointment scheduled.
I made my regularly scheduled 38 week check up that Thursday. My water broke at 4 a.m. Friday morning and labor started about 6 hours later. Dr. Becker met me at the hospital and told me that he was supposed to leave at noon that day but would stay with me as long as he could. I gave birth vaginally to twin A @ 1:45 that afternoon. Twin B followed a short 22 minutes later vaginally. I had to have one stitch and was able to hold my babies right after they were born. It was the most beautiful day ever! Both of my boys were extremely healthy and weighed in at 5 lbs 4 oz and 6 lbs 4 oz respectively. We got to go home Sunday morning.
Because of Dr. Becker, I knew that I could birth babies naturally. So when I got pregnant again 8 years later, I had a completely natural labor in a hospital with a doula in attendance. Since the birth of my twins, he has become involved in the only practice in this area that has a CNM on staff. He is highly regarded by the homebirth midwife I met with and by my doula, both of whom recommended him for my most recent child. (I was unable to use him with my next pregnancy due to insurance restrictions.) But I will never forget the man who taught me that birth was a natural occurrence in a woman’s life. In my mind, he is extremely qualified and I would recommend him in a heartbeat to any new mom who needs a physician she can trust.
My first pregnancy 9 years ago was a multiple pregnancy which automatically put me in the high risk category. I didn’t see anything high risk about it until I started looking for an OB. I live in Central Texas and at 22 years old, had little knowledge of birth or the stigma that has grown up around natural birthing. I just knew that I DID NOT want to have surgery if I could avoid it. Imagine my shock when physician after physician told me that they would not even let me attempt a vaginal birth because I was carrying twins. I can’t remember how many times I heard the words “automatic section” while pregnant with my boys.
Finally, I found a new-to-town doctor who was more than willing to let me attempt a vaginal birth. His only request was that I have an epidural and birth in the operating room just in case a c-section became unavoidable. I decided that I could deal with the epidural. Dr. Brian Becker of Waco Center for Women’s Health was easy going and had no trouble talking me about any test or procedure.
I was diagnosed with Intracranial Hypertension during my pregnancy after months of severe headaches and finally a lumbar puncture to relieve the pressure on my brain. My neurologist prescribed Diamox to help with the spinal fluid pressure and as he handed me the script, he told me that he had never given this medication to a pregnant woman before because it had caused birth defects in animals during drug trials. I immediately burst into tears and told him that I would not take the medication. He was very gruff and said that if I did not take it, I could lose my vision. I remember leaving his office in a daze and as I walked through the medical complex, I ran into a staff member of Dr. Becker’s office. The office was closed, but she immediately took me inside to talk to Dr. Becker. He sat with me and calmed me down while he explained that Diamox was actually a Class C drug that was really no different than the pain medications that I had been taking to help with the headaches. Now, this was after hours and this doctor was sitting there holding my hand while I bawled like a child! I look back now and am just in awe.
I started having regular contractions on a Saturday night and went to the hospital. Unfortunately, Dr. Becker was not on call. The on call doctor kept me overnight and on Sunday morning told me that he was going to prep me for the O.R. I told him that my doctor had told me that my boys were both head down and that we had planned to at least attempt a vaginal birth. Now, I’ve come to see this doctor in my head as an evil little old doctor with large spectacles wringing his hands and telling me that he only delivered twins by c-section. If I’m honest with myself, I see an older gentleman with gray hair in a white coat. I told him that if that was the case, he would not be delivering my babies and I walked out. I had never done anything like that in my life and was instantly terrified. What if I had just killed my babies because I was afraid (and being completely honest now, I was terrified!) of having a surgery that millions of women have every year? I remember calling Dr. Becker’s office very early the next morning and being completely comforted by him and his staff. I had expected anger and shame! But they told me that I had done the right thing! And since my contractions were no longer regular, they would just see me on Thursday when I had already had an appointment scheduled.
I made my regularly scheduled 38 week check up that Thursday. My water broke at 4 a.m. Friday morning and labor started about 6 hours later. Dr. Becker met me at the hospital and told me that he was supposed to leave at noon that day but would stay with me as long as he could. I gave birth vaginally to twin A @ 1:45 that afternoon. Twin B followed a short 22 minutes later vaginally. I had to have one stitch and was able to hold my babies right after they were born. It was the most beautiful day ever! Both of my boys were extremely healthy and weighed in at 5 lbs 4 oz and 6 lbs 4 oz respectively. We got to go home Sunday morning.
Because of Dr. Becker, I knew that I could birth babies naturally. So when I got pregnant again 8 years later, I had a completely natural labor in a hospital with a doula in attendance. Since the birth of my twins, he has become involved in the only practice in this area that has a CNM on staff. He is highly regarded by the homebirth midwife I met with and by my doula, both of whom recommended him for my most recent child. (I was unable to use him with my next pregnancy due to insurance restrictions.) But I will never forget the man who taught me that birth was a natural occurrence in a woman’s life. In my mind, he is extremely qualified and I would recommend him in a heartbeat to any new mom who needs a physician she can trust.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Zonnie's Birth Story
This is the remarkable and empowering birth story of Zonnie.
Please note that the following is my original birth story, written one-week postpartum. This is my impression of what took place.
---------------------------------
Labor begins
I noticed contractions while trick or treating with my little siblings around 7PM on Halloween. They got a little more serious around midnight, but I did manage to fall asleep until 4am, when active labor started. Contractions were close together and intense. I couldn't talk through them. Based on the rule of thumb about contractions, I figured this was the real deal. But I was in for a surprise!
I labored for most of the day, sure that soon I would have a baby in my arms. DH rushed around getting everything ready. Labor began a week early, so although we had most of our supplies, we weren't entirely set up for a water birth.
The contractions were intense from when I woke up to the very end. They remained the same level of intensity, even if timing varied. I would describe them as menstrual cramps, only lasting longer with clear peaks. With DH helping me by talking me through them (acting as a hypnobabies coach I suppose is the way to put it), I thought it was an exhilarating but not painful experience.
Then a twist
By nighttime, I began to feel a sharp sensation in my lower left quadrant that was truly painful. At first the pain was matching up with the contractions, but then it started to just stay on its own, not fading or getting worse. It felt to me like "bad" pain, not the intensity of exercising or contractions, but the pain of an ankle sprain. I couldn't relax through it and the pool made it worse. I described this pain to mamas on MDC and someone mentioned that is what she felt at the beginning of her placental abruption.
I began wondering what was going on and contacted an underground midwife. She listened to the symptoms and suggested transfer to the ER as she was also thinking abruption.
We stopped by the local hospital, hearts in our throats. I was hooked up to an EFM and left for about 10 minutes. Then the doctor came in, I consented to a vaginal exam and he did an ultrasound. His conclusion? Our baby was vertex, about 8.5lbs and I was 4cm dilated. He actually smiled at us, patted my foot as I lay on the table and recommended spending the night at home. We were actually discharged from the hospital! (Which without any emergency, we were definitely going to leave AMA anyways).
Continuing on
After that, I found renewed strength to help my baby out. I decided I had just been too eager in the beginning of the day and must have worn myself out with high expectations. Someone online recommended making hot rice socks for the sharp pains and it worked like a miracle! (Note: I later learned that it was round ligament pain related to pelvic problems from injuries I sustained as a gymnast). We went home and labored through the night. My contractions slowed down, giving me time to rest. I was having 90 second contractions about every 5-6 minutes, falling asleep in the pool in between them. My amazing DH, who got the flu the night before Halloween, was camped out on a futon cushion next to me.
So around 6-7am, I hit transition. I started shaking, puking, wanting to give up, etc. The contractions sped up a lot, one on top of the other and I asked DH to check my cervix. He confirmed I was 8-9cm dilated. Then, nothing. Literally. My contractions died off almost completely, with maybe one or two every 10-15 minutes. I was back to normal and able to walk, talk and eat.
We were both very confused. We decided I should rest, thinking this was my body trying to save up energy for the last stretch. Keep in mind that we had been monitoring the baby the whole time and she had great heart tones/fetal movement. It was a disappointment to wait longer, but didn't seem worrisome.
Anyways, at some point during the middle of the day my contractions came back and around 8/9PM that night, I hit transition again! Yes, I puked again, isn't that wonderful? Lol. I was fully dilated and we could both feel her head. That's when the contractions died off again. I got one pushy contraction and then nothing. Finally, I just really had this instinct that this was going nowhere and we needed assistance. So we called back the underground midwife and she agreed to visit to see what was happening.
Some answers and some progress
She listened to the baby's heart beat and then asked to do a vaginal exam. She started moving things around, saying the baby's head was cocked to one side (asynclitic). I got a contraction, yay! We used some herbs to help the contractions along and I had a few very pushy contractions in the pool. Then she did another check and found the baby's head was stuck behind my pubic bone. I moved out of the birth pool and tried a few positions, but it still didn't free her up so the midwife instructed DH on how to push her head down while I pushed through contractions. That was extremely unpleasant but worked!
According to DH, I pushed for over 5 hours through the night. At one point, my mom came in to help out, as DH was very busy helping to support me and move the baby. So our private birth turned into a little party, but I had become very uninhibited at this point and found myself enjoying my mom's excitement. (She seemed a lot more excited than me haha). DH had to continually reposition the baby as she came down the canal. My right leg gave out on me (went numb), so I was leaning against a birthing ball and trying to push on one knee. This was again a complication related to my pelvic instability/injury.
Baby is almost out!
I think I pushed for 3.5 hours, according to DH, to get her onto my perineum and visible. That's when the MW gave me a mirror. I flipped around and maintained a squatting position with DH supporting me by the armpits so that I could "hang" in the air. This was extremely effective! I felt all my muscles loosen up and get used to the fullest. I highly recommend this position and wish I had tried it out much earlier. It took probably 20 contractions to crown her. Her head came out with her face towards my thigh, her head tilted to the side and forehead leaning back (transverse occiput, asynclitic, almost posterior).
Then the MW asked me to roll over onto all fours. I think she was suspecting Shoulder Dystocia after the way my baby's head was stuck. She easily slid out on the next contraction and her neck/head did not turtle so SD was not a problem.
Anyways, she came out with a nuchal hand, elbow sticking straight out and her other arm behind her back. I remember sitting there next to her, rubbing her legs and not saying a word. I was speechless. I was in bliss. The MW told DH to say something to our baby. As DH spoke, little Zonnie turned her head to him and looked him right in the eyes. Those moments after her birth are wonderful memories for me. I feel as if time stood still.
Although labor and birth wasn't painful, it was long and hard so I was exhausted. I was basically stuck on the ground clutching her but unable to move/relax. After about 10 minutes, I asked DH to hold her and to cut the cord. It was too much exertion for me to keep sitting and holding her. The cord was already flat and white by then, so I didn't feel too bad (we had been considering a lotus birth). I birthed the placenta about 2 minutes later on a birthing stool. It was almost 5lbs and looked really healthy with a heart shape. The next surprise came when we found out she weighed 11lbs, 4oz! Those ultrasounds and doctors aren't always accurate.
Post partum experience:
I purple pushed when she was crowning. It was a personal thing for me as I was so tired and just wanted to see her that I ignored the little spark of intuition telling me to wait. I ended up with a 3rd degree tear and went into the hospital a few hours after birth. We decided to go to the ER and bypass the maternity ward. It was a good decision. The ER doctor was fast and skilled. We didn't get any drama from him, although every few minutes he would pause, look up at me and ask, "She was 11lbs what?" It was cute lol. Those stitches made me tender for about a week but thankfully I did not experience any long term difficulties.
For paperwork reasons, we wanted to set up a meeting with our family physician. But when DH called to schedule a leisurely appointment, the nurse pointed out that our doctor was so busy we could get in the next day or wait 3 months! :o So we actually took her in at around 48 hours after the birth. The doctor was tickled at her weight and talked about how he had patients who birthed 15 pound babies. He joked that he knew how to draw a "big baby" growth chart from experience and that she needed an individual one!
Nursing
Nursing was a slow start for us. She was obviously very sore in the neck and preferred one side. She also had a very tight anterior and posterior ankyloglossia. The MW recommended we clip her tongue tie as she was not getting a strong latch. We had an appointment scheduled 5 days after the birth. I started nursing around the clock with both of us naked. DH spent most of his day being the perfect chair for me, so we all had some great family time. Literally before walking out the door to that appointment, I confirmed good latch signs and my milk came in abundantly. We cancelled the appointment and have been nursing on cue ever since.
Regarding pain and birthing a large baby
The two top questions I get about my birth experience are about pain and macrosmia. They are both difficult to talk about as this was my first child. How am I supposed to know if it hurt more or less, or it was harder or easier to birth a large baby? Lol. But here is my feeling on the issues: what hurt? That round ligament pain hurt. The contractions didn't hurt. Feeling my body open didn't hurt. The ring of fire stung like the dickens. Sneezing with stitches hurt. I am one of "those" people who would agree that contractions are surges or waves and that birth is an orgasmic, awakening experience.
As for a big baby...I wasn't expecting a BIG baby. (She was measuring 2 weeks ahead, which is a number that could easily be position-related). Her positioning was really off and no doubt impacted the length of my labor and pushing stage. Maybe her position was related to her size, but in working with some birth professionals and my chiropractor, I think she did what she had to do to get out of my very imbalanced pelvic area. I think if I had paid more attention to aligning my pelvis and relaxing the ligaments of the uterus during my pregnancy, she would have been in an optimal position for birthing regardless of her size. Oh, and about her size...what caused it? It remains undiagnosed macrosomia. I did not have GD, or even mild glucose problems. I monitored my glucose levels daily during pregnancy. I ate a healthy diet. I worked full time and exercised until 38 weeks. I'm 5' 4" and weighed 118lbs pre-pregnancy. Who knows? It remains a great topic for birth conversations haha!
Well, there you have it. Thanks for reading!
ETA: As a first time mama choosing a freebirth, I hesitated for a long time to share this story. Choosing to birth at home gets enough judgment already! But as I get closer to Ian's birth day (whatever day that will be) I found myself biting my tongue at the question I often hear: "What happens if something goes wrong?"
What happens if something goes wrong...those words echo in my head when I read them or hear them. The general idea seems to be that if you choose to birth outside the hospital, 1) something will go wrong that would not go wrong in a hospital 2) and you will be stuck at home and forced to suffer the dire consequences.
My story shows that these assumptions aren't true. Homebirth is not "all or nothing." It's not an ordeal that you commit to, that you either accomplish or fail. This is about living out our lives and taking it one step at a time. My husband and I were drawn to birth at home without others present. Feeling that way did not take away our ability to consult with others, including doctors and midwives. And by reaching out to others in the community, we were able to experience a beautiful, peaceful homebirth.
So I just hope that my story provides some context for others who wonder what people do when a homebirth isn't a quick and easy experience. When someone says, "Well, you have easy labors, of course you birth at home!" I want her to know that it doesn't have to be easy; in fact, it's hard labor. :-) When someone says, "Well, you've had 4 kids, of course you're experienced enough to birth at home!" I want her to know that you don't have to go in flying blind and you don't have to reject the experience of others (e.g. doctors/midwives/lay people). The same goes to those who say they will birth at the hospital with their first child and then do homebirths.
Peace and happy birthing. <3
Please note that the following is my original birth story, written one-week postpartum. This is my impression of what took place.
---------------------------------
Labor begins
I noticed contractions while trick or treating with my little siblings around 7PM on Halloween. They got a little more serious around midnight, but I did manage to fall asleep until 4am, when active labor started. Contractions were close together and intense. I couldn't talk through them. Based on the rule of thumb about contractions, I figured this was the real deal. But I was in for a surprise!
I labored for most of the day, sure that soon I would have a baby in my arms. DH rushed around getting everything ready. Labor began a week early, so although we had most of our supplies, we weren't entirely set up for a water birth.
The contractions were intense from when I woke up to the very end. They remained the same level of intensity, even if timing varied. I would describe them as menstrual cramps, only lasting longer with clear peaks. With DH helping me by talking me through them (acting as a hypnobabies coach I suppose is the way to put it), I thought it was an exhilarating but not painful experience.
Then a twist
By nighttime, I began to feel a sharp sensation in my lower left quadrant that was truly painful. At first the pain was matching up with the contractions, but then it started to just stay on its own, not fading or getting worse. It felt to me like "bad" pain, not the intensity of exercising or contractions, but the pain of an ankle sprain. I couldn't relax through it and the pool made it worse. I described this pain to mamas on MDC and someone mentioned that is what she felt at the beginning of her placental abruption.
I began wondering what was going on and contacted an underground midwife. She listened to the symptoms and suggested transfer to the ER as she was also thinking abruption.
We stopped by the local hospital, hearts in our throats. I was hooked up to an EFM and left for about 10 minutes. Then the doctor came in, I consented to a vaginal exam and he did an ultrasound. His conclusion? Our baby was vertex, about 8.5lbs and I was 4cm dilated. He actually smiled at us, patted my foot as I lay on the table and recommended spending the night at home. We were actually discharged from the hospital! (Which without any emergency, we were definitely going to leave AMA anyways).
Continuing on
After that, I found renewed strength to help my baby out. I decided I had just been too eager in the beginning of the day and must have worn myself out with high expectations. Someone online recommended making hot rice socks for the sharp pains and it worked like a miracle! (Note: I later learned that it was round ligament pain related to pelvic problems from injuries I sustained as a gymnast). We went home and labored through the night. My contractions slowed down, giving me time to rest. I was having 90 second contractions about every 5-6 minutes, falling asleep in the pool in between them. My amazing DH, who got the flu the night before Halloween, was camped out on a futon cushion next to me.
So around 6-7am, I hit transition. I started shaking, puking, wanting to give up, etc. The contractions sped up a lot, one on top of the other and I asked DH to check my cervix. He confirmed I was 8-9cm dilated. Then, nothing. Literally. My contractions died off almost completely, with maybe one or two every 10-15 minutes. I was back to normal and able to walk, talk and eat.
We were both very confused. We decided I should rest, thinking this was my body trying to save up energy for the last stretch. Keep in mind that we had been monitoring the baby the whole time and she had great heart tones/fetal movement. It was a disappointment to wait longer, but didn't seem worrisome.
Anyways, at some point during the middle of the day my contractions came back and around 8/9PM that night, I hit transition again! Yes, I puked again, isn't that wonderful? Lol. I was fully dilated and we could both feel her head. That's when the contractions died off again. I got one pushy contraction and then nothing. Finally, I just really had this instinct that this was going nowhere and we needed assistance. So we called back the underground midwife and she agreed to visit to see what was happening.
Some answers and some progress
She listened to the baby's heart beat and then asked to do a vaginal exam. She started moving things around, saying the baby's head was cocked to one side (asynclitic). I got a contraction, yay! We used some herbs to help the contractions along and I had a few very pushy contractions in the pool. Then she did another check and found the baby's head was stuck behind my pubic bone. I moved out of the birth pool and tried a few positions, but it still didn't free her up so the midwife instructed DH on how to push her head down while I pushed through contractions. That was extremely unpleasant but worked!
According to DH, I pushed for over 5 hours through the night. At one point, my mom came in to help out, as DH was very busy helping to support me and move the baby. So our private birth turned into a little party, but I had become very uninhibited at this point and found myself enjoying my mom's excitement. (She seemed a lot more excited than me haha). DH had to continually reposition the baby as she came down the canal. My right leg gave out on me (went numb), so I was leaning against a birthing ball and trying to push on one knee. This was again a complication related to my pelvic instability/injury.
Baby is almost out!
I think I pushed for 3.5 hours, according to DH, to get her onto my perineum and visible. That's when the MW gave me a mirror. I flipped around and maintained a squatting position with DH supporting me by the armpits so that I could "hang" in the air. This was extremely effective! I felt all my muscles loosen up and get used to the fullest. I highly recommend this position and wish I had tried it out much earlier. It took probably 20 contractions to crown her. Her head came out with her face towards my thigh, her head tilted to the side and forehead leaning back (transverse occiput, asynclitic, almost posterior).
Then the MW asked me to roll over onto all fours. I think she was suspecting Shoulder Dystocia after the way my baby's head was stuck. She easily slid out on the next contraction and her neck/head did not turtle so SD was not a problem.
Anyways, she came out with a nuchal hand, elbow sticking straight out and her other arm behind her back. I remember sitting there next to her, rubbing her legs and not saying a word. I was speechless. I was in bliss. The MW told DH to say something to our baby. As DH spoke, little Zonnie turned her head to him and looked him right in the eyes. Those moments after her birth are wonderful memories for me. I feel as if time stood still.
Although labor and birth wasn't painful, it was long and hard so I was exhausted. I was basically stuck on the ground clutching her but unable to move/relax. After about 10 minutes, I asked DH to hold her and to cut the cord. It was too much exertion for me to keep sitting and holding her. The cord was already flat and white by then, so I didn't feel too bad (we had been considering a lotus birth). I birthed the placenta about 2 minutes later on a birthing stool. It was almost 5lbs and looked really healthy with a heart shape. The next surprise came when we found out she weighed 11lbs, 4oz! Those ultrasounds and doctors aren't always accurate.
Post partum experience:
I purple pushed when she was crowning. It was a personal thing for me as I was so tired and just wanted to see her that I ignored the little spark of intuition telling me to wait. I ended up with a 3rd degree tear and went into the hospital a few hours after birth. We decided to go to the ER and bypass the maternity ward. It was a good decision. The ER doctor was fast and skilled. We didn't get any drama from him, although every few minutes he would pause, look up at me and ask, "She was 11lbs what?" It was cute lol. Those stitches made me tender for about a week but thankfully I did not experience any long term difficulties.
For paperwork reasons, we wanted to set up a meeting with our family physician. But when DH called to schedule a leisurely appointment, the nurse pointed out that our doctor was so busy we could get in the next day or wait 3 months! :o So we actually took her in at around 48 hours after the birth. The doctor was tickled at her weight and talked about how he had patients who birthed 15 pound babies. He joked that he knew how to draw a "big baby" growth chart from experience and that she needed an individual one!
Nursing
Nursing was a slow start for us. She was obviously very sore in the neck and preferred one side. She also had a very tight anterior and posterior ankyloglossia. The MW recommended we clip her tongue tie as she was not getting a strong latch. We had an appointment scheduled 5 days after the birth. I started nursing around the clock with both of us naked. DH spent most of his day being the perfect chair for me, so we all had some great family time. Literally before walking out the door to that appointment, I confirmed good latch signs and my milk came in abundantly. We cancelled the appointment and have been nursing on cue ever since.
Regarding pain and birthing a large baby
The two top questions I get about my birth experience are about pain and macrosmia. They are both difficult to talk about as this was my first child. How am I supposed to know if it hurt more or less, or it was harder or easier to birth a large baby? Lol. But here is my feeling on the issues: what hurt? That round ligament pain hurt. The contractions didn't hurt. Feeling my body open didn't hurt. The ring of fire stung like the dickens. Sneezing with stitches hurt. I am one of "those" people who would agree that contractions are surges or waves and that birth is an orgasmic, awakening experience.
As for a big baby...I wasn't expecting a BIG baby. (She was measuring 2 weeks ahead, which is a number that could easily be position-related). Her positioning was really off and no doubt impacted the length of my labor and pushing stage. Maybe her position was related to her size, but in working with some birth professionals and my chiropractor, I think she did what she had to do to get out of my very imbalanced pelvic area. I think if I had paid more attention to aligning my pelvis and relaxing the ligaments of the uterus during my pregnancy, she would have been in an optimal position for birthing regardless of her size. Oh, and about her size...what caused it? It remains undiagnosed macrosomia. I did not have GD, or even mild glucose problems. I monitored my glucose levels daily during pregnancy. I ate a healthy diet. I worked full time and exercised until 38 weeks. I'm 5' 4" and weighed 118lbs pre-pregnancy. Who knows? It remains a great topic for birth conversations haha!
Well, there you have it. Thanks for reading!
ETA: As a first time mama choosing a freebirth, I hesitated for a long time to share this story. Choosing to birth at home gets enough judgment already! But as I get closer to Ian's birth day (whatever day that will be) I found myself biting my tongue at the question I often hear: "What happens if something goes wrong?"
What happens if something goes wrong...those words echo in my head when I read them or hear them. The general idea seems to be that if you choose to birth outside the hospital, 1) something will go wrong that would not go wrong in a hospital 2) and you will be stuck at home and forced to suffer the dire consequences.
My story shows that these assumptions aren't true. Homebirth is not "all or nothing." It's not an ordeal that you commit to, that you either accomplish or fail. This is about living out our lives and taking it one step at a time. My husband and I were drawn to birth at home without others present. Feeling that way did not take away our ability to consult with others, including doctors and midwives. And by reaching out to others in the community, we were able to experience a beautiful, peaceful homebirth.
So I just hope that my story provides some context for others who wonder what people do when a homebirth isn't a quick and easy experience. When someone says, "Well, you have easy labors, of course you birth at home!" I want her to know that it doesn't have to be easy; in fact, it's hard labor. :-) When someone says, "Well, you've had 4 kids, of course you're experienced enough to birth at home!" I want her to know that you don't have to go in flying blind and you don't have to reject the experience of others (e.g. doctors/midwives/lay people). The same goes to those who say they will birth at the hospital with their first child and then do homebirths.
Peace and happy birthing. <3
Eight months pregnant.
"Hope has two beautiful daughters. Their names are anger and courage; anger at the way things are, and courage to see that they do not remain the way they are." Augustine
Dedicated to my mom, who walked a path of darkness with me at my birth, and walked a path of joy with me at my daughter's birth. ♥
Dedicated to my mom, who walked a path of darkness with me at my birth, and walked a path of joy with me at my daughter's birth. ♥
Fathers, if you want bonding and oxytocin, catch your baby!
Little Zonnie smiles in her daddy's arms on her birthday.
Little Zonnie smiles in her daddy's arms on her birthday.
Friday, February 19, 2010
A Mothers Victory: My VBA3C Birth Story
“Boobalumba has arrived!”
After three Caesarean sections, I knew I wanted a natural birth for my fifth child. I had written a detailed birth plan describing how I was to be involved and treated during my labour and birth at the hospital, with as little intervention as possible. My plan notwithstanding, this is my story of the very difficult labour and birth of my son on February 8, 2010.
by Danielle Arnold-McKenny
It all started with a week of annoying, stop and start prodromal labour. There really is nothing quite so frustrating as playing the guessing game every time the contractions start. Is this it…this time?! But after a week of lots of contractions and various other questionable symptoms, early evening on Saturday (February 6, 2010) I was pretty certain that we were onto the countdown.
Contractions continued during the night for the first time. Although they slowed right down and became erratic, they kept getting stronger. Sunday morning they slowed to a halt for about three or four hours. When they started up again, it was like being back at square one.
So I kicked my husband Nick and the kids out of the house to go to a friend’s to watch the Super Bowl. Then I set out to do some serious relaxing: filled the living room with candles, put some of my favourite aromatherapy oils in a burner, put on soothing music, got settled into my super comfy rocking chair, and just…R E L A X E D.
Soon enough the contractions became steady at about 8–10 minutes apart. Nick brought the kids home and tucked them into bed late that night, and we called my best friend Lynda over to be with us.
By 3 AM I was definitely in labour. While still only about 6–8 minutes apart, the contractions were strong enough for me to need to support myself and focus on breathing through them—rocking and swaying. We called our midwife, to put her on alert that the party was definitely on. By 5 AM the contractions were still 6 minutes apart but very strong. I had to decide what to do next.
I knew that the kids would be waking up soon and really didn’t think I could deal with my labour and them. So I made the decision for us to head off to the hospital. It was too early—I knew it was—but I was so tired, having not really slept in two nights. I just wanted to know where I was in my labour, to know how far/fast I was progressing.
I think that this is one of the worst things that most labouring women do—worry about the numbers: how many minutes apart, how many centimetres dilated, how many hours of labour…This turns so easily into a downward spiral.
When we arrived at the hospital, we were met by one of our midwives—and so started that downward spiral. She checked me at 6:30 AM. I was only 3 centimetres…3? Just 3 centimetres?!? Oh gods!!! Immediately I became depressed, completely despondent. Three centimetres was exactly where I’d been when I’d gone to the hospital in labour with my youngest daughter Keira, and exactly where I stayed with that labour, which this one had so far exactly mirrored. Keira’s birth ended up being a Caesarean section…
On my midwife’s advice, Nick and I started walking the hospital hallways, to try to “ramp up the contractions,” as she was convinced that I wasn’t in active labour yet—another very disappointing announcement that brought me down even further. How was I supposed to continue like this? In my opinion, my contractions were damn strong, as strong as they were when I was close to transition with Quinlin, my home-birth, vaginal-birth-after-one-Caesarean (VBA1C) baby.
So we walked the halls, stopping to lean on whatever I had available during contractions. We talked and I cried. I was so despondent, and after two nights of almost no sleep, I was completely exhausted. How was I going to make it through this if the contractions were already this strong and I wasn’t even in “active labour”!?!
Nick was a huge support both physically and emotionally. While we walked, we talked: about my fears, about the “options,” both of us knowing what the “option” was…We returned to our room and talked to our midwife about the jumble of emotions, about the labour and my fears. We decided that we would talk to the obstetrician on call. Even then I knew that we were taking the first step down the road to another Caesarean. But I was so caught up in my anxiety and despondency that I had lost hope.
When the doctor arrived finally at around 9 AM, I was desperate for some relief from the contractions. Luckily I had an OB who wasn’t a pusher. Oh, he definitely wanted me to have the C/S, to remove the “risks” of my trial of labour, and to save the staff from the obvious stress of having a VBA3C on their labour & delivery floor. But he suggested that he see how far along in my labour I was before we made the final decision. For this alone, I have much respect for the man, because at that moment I was so vulnerable that he could have pushed me right down to the operating room himself and knocked me out. I wouldn’t have uttered a peep. But instead he checked me over.
I was 8 centimetres!!!!
From down in the valley of emotional despair so dark and heavy that I could barely breathe, I flew up to the top of the tallest mountain of elation!! 8 centimetres?!? I could do this!!!! Nick’s face lit up in what I knew was a mirror expression of my own. Eight centimetres were unimaginable.
“What do you want to do?” the OB asked. “I want to continue to labour!!!” I almost shouted in excitement.
He then started on the litany of risks, and rules I “had to” follow. He suggested that we break my water to help get things moving along. I readily agreed. Hell, if he’d suggested cartwheels while holding a bottle of nitroglycerine, I’d have eagerly agreed with him!
So he quickly broke my membranes. With a huge rush of lovely, clear amniotic fluid, I instantly felt Baby Boobalumba (as we had nick-named him) drop down a bit farther. Continuing with his sermon, the OB warned me that he’d give me one hour to show some progress, and that we would discuss “the options” when he returned.
For 20 minutes or so, the contractions eased off in severity, while coming closer together. I was laughing between contractions and joking with Nick and my midwife. That break was short-lived, though. Very soon transition fell on me like a lead curtain.
Oh, it was bad.
After an hour, the doctor returned and checked me again. Still 8 centimetres. “Tsk tsk tsk” is what I got, and again he started listing the risks and lecturing me on the dangers of having a uterine rupture if I didn’t hurry up and progress. I argued that Boobalumba moving lower was progress. I immediately lost my high regard for him when he began shushing me and telling me off like a naughty child.
Have I mentioned that I don’t take lightly to someone treating me as an inferior being? Hackles were raised, and Nick quickly set about to calm me down. We were given another hour.
Oh gods!!! Contractions were now never-ending waves that carried away any semblance of humanity I had left. The logical Dani was left behind by the primal Dani, who ruled unchecked over the writhing body that had been human just a few hours before.
Occasionally the logical Dani had flashes of insight that penetrated the haze of transition: thoughts of caged mountain lions screaming in rage at their captors; the lone wolf caught in a trap that gnaws its own leg off to try to escape…for I was the trapped animal, trapped by the hospital staff, policies, doctors, and my midwives. I was hooked up to a fetal monitor that inhibited my ability to move. I was suppressed by people telling me where to go and how to position myself, and reminding me of the clock that continued to tick towards the “deadline.”
Some of what happened that I’m about to relay, I learned later from Nick. At this point my chronological memory that was recording the events as they happened became seriously erratic (resulting in gaping holes big enough to drive a truck through).
At some point during my transition to a blubbering mess, my friend Lynda showed up after taking my kids to her parents’ house. Between Lynda and Nick, I had a small bit of calm to cling to. They took turns talking to me, feeding me sips of water, rubbing my back, and helping me be as comfortable as possible.
Then my second hour was up. The OB arrived and announced that I was still just 8 centimetres and my cervix was inflamed.
I begged for relief. The last piece of human Dani was ready to admit defeat. But I managed to beat back the primal contractions and somewhat coherently tell the doctor that if I could just relax for a minute, just have a moment’s respite to regain control of myself…If I’m heading down the hallway to the operating room anyways, then give me the epidural so that we can try just one last time to finish this dilation thingy that you’re all so hyper about!!
Then the human spark slipped away, having said its final piece, and the primal Dani took over again. Nick discussed it all with the doctor. They arranged to get me an epidural, and Nick bargained a further half hour to see if we could achieve the final 2 centimetres that they wanted.
Immediately the room seemed to fill with people. Two maternity nurses bustled in to set up an IV…I remember biting the head off one for even thinking about putting the IV into the back of my hand…my second midwife was there.…the noise levels rose substantially and I felt like I was in a stadium surrounded by overwhelming crowds. I vaguely recollect my midwife checking me again and saying that she thought the cervical lip could be moved…and she did something down there that wasn’t pleasant.
Then they all decided that I needed to be lying down right now. “Take the pressure off the cervix”…“let the swelling go down”…snippets of directions, with me arguing that I didn’t want to lie down. I can’t lie down, I won’t lie down…yet somehow they had me down flat on the bed, taking away the last vestige of control that I had over this three-ring circus.
More people flooded into the room. The anaesthesiologist came with cartloads of paraphernalia. At some point they kicked Lynda out of the room on some flimsy excuse, leaving me with one fewer island of support to cling to.
At this point I remember feeling “the push.” I told “them” that I needed to push, that I felt that pressure, that I needed to poop…and I remember “them” telling me not to push, that it was too early, that I wasn’t fully dilated to the golden 10. They rolled me to my side to get ready for the epidural, hands on me everywhere, voices ordering me to do this and do that, curl into a ball, hold still, don’t move…I tried to follow orders. The small inner voice of logic screamed at the primal me to listen: “Don’t move, you idiot!! That’s a needle in your spine!!!”
All of a sudden my primal self was engulfed by an all-consuming command to push…Out of the confusion of the moment, standing out from the roaring crowds came the scream: “I have to push!!! I have to push!!!!!”
The crowds yelled back at me: “Don’t move!!” “Don’t push!!!”…
What came next is a moment of clarity that I will remember to my last breath. It came so clearly and so powerfully that it is permanently etched into my brain. I pushed. With every fibre of my being. Every muscle, every tendon, every vital organ. I pushed once, then again. And I felt Baby Boobalumba burst through some invisible barrier and move down into my vagina. I felt every contour, every millimetre of his descent.
A primal growling scream rose out of me that was pure energy. I was filled with a sense of exhilaration as endorphins flooded my system. I CAN DO THIS!!!! I CAN BIRTH MY BABY!!!—only to be cut off by grabbing hands and barking orders from the madding and maddening crowds…“Stop!! Don’t push!! Don’t move!!”
Voices tumbled overtop each other. “Is the baby coming?” “Can you see the head?” “I can see the head!” “Turn her around!” “Lie on your back!” Voices bellowing at me…
The human Dani fought with the primal Dani to take back control. The human Dani knew logically what she needed to do. Knew that she needed to retake control of her body, not just from the primal Dani, but from all of these people who were trying to control her.
I needed to get up. I needed to get off my back and upright. I needed to find my voice and make these people all shut up and listen to me.
Another contraction and another push. This time my midwife cheered me on: “Push!!!!!” and I did, feeling the baby’s head start to crown, the burning that brought with it that all-encompassing need to keep pushing—only to have it all come to a crashing halt. The epidural kicked in, to block all sensation of the contractions.
The voices yelled at me to push, but the urge was simply gone. Along with the realization that my guide had disappeared came the awareness that I couldn’t breathe. “They” kept yelling at me to push, to lie back and grab my legs and pull them back…but I couldn’t find my centre, couldn’t breathe in the air deeply enough to get a full breath, couldn’t feel the contractions to cue me to push…I needed to get up. I had to get up, I tried to tell them to let me up…but they just kept pushing me back down and telling me to grab my legs…
“Tsk tsk tsk we missed another contraction.” “Dani, you have to push, the baby’s head is half way out!!! You have to push!!!”
HELLO?! I’m perfectly aware of exactly where the baby’s head is, thank you very much!!!!
I tried again to tell them that I couldn’t feel the contractions, that I couldn’t breathe…but the crowds drowned me out with their incessant commands and annoying nattering verbal diarrhea.
I reached down and felt the top of my baby’s head, and ran my fingers through the masses of soggy hair. Someone pushed my hand away and forced me to grab the back of my thigh. The human Dani sighed in resignation. They couldn’t hear me, they wouldn’t listen. I had no choice but to do it “their” way. So ignoring the roaring of the masses surrounding me, I breathed in as deeply as I could and P U S H E D.
The relief of his head coming fully out is one that every woman who has given birth can no doubt relate to. Again I reached down. I wanted to birth my baby. I wanted to grasp his slippery body as it came out of me, as we started our journey as two separate beings. I wanted to be the first to hold him. Then someone pushed my hands away again and forced them back to my legs. And so again I pushed as “they” ordered, and Baby Boobalumba was born.
Strange, but as soon as he was delivered onto my belly, the human Dani completely took over. I immediately reminded my midwife not to clamp the umbilical cord, and asked for a warmed blanket to put over both of us.
Once the cord was cut a few minutes later, my midwife asked me to push to deliver the placenta. At that point one of the nurses made a motion to press on my belly. I immediately slapped her hand away and told her No, then told my midwife that I did not want any cord traction applied. As the epidural was now firmly in place and I had no feeling at all, I concentrated on muscle memory and pushed…hard, delivering the placenta in one quick swoosh.
When one of the nurses tried to rub Boobalumba down with a towel, I pushed her away again. After that, no one interfered with me and the baby; no one tried to weigh him or measure him or clean him. They left me alone to be with my baby.
Now that clarity had returned, I could concentrate on him and interact with the people around me as a rational being again. I immediately started asking Nick for details and found out only then that Lynda had been kicked out of the room and he had run out into the hallway as soon as Boobalumba was born to grab her and bring her back in. He also told me that the nurses wouldn’t allow him to take a picture as our son was crowning. That made me so angry.
Oh, I was mad, really mad!!!
But on the surface I was able to enjoy the victory for what it meant to me personally: a validation that I was not broken. Though the birth had not gone even remotely as I had wished, and my birth plan was basically trampled on by galloping hordes, I did it.
Writing this down now, a little over a week later, I am able to verbalize many things that at the moment were just notes stored away for later analysis. The basic need for understanding and support for the VBAC mother. Support and care that are different from what other birthing mothers need.
My personal story is one of vindication of a VBA3C mom. We are not broken. We are perfectly capable of birthing our babies without the surgeon’s knife. My story will, I hope, inspire those that were there—the OB doctor, the labour & delivery nurses, my midwives—to realize that it is possible if only women are given the choice.
I wasn’t given the “choice.” I demanded that they allow it. I didn’t have their support or their understanding. I had to rely solely upon myself and my husband, knowing that if we wavered even for a moment, as we came so close to doing several times, we would be engulfed by the medical machine and processed as yet another number.
Sure, our birth is a number, but a very different and more important one: the first VBA3C in Cambridge Memorial Hospital (Cambridge, Ontario, Canada) and by the Cambridge Midwives Group. I hope that through my experience they will open doors to more VBAC mothers. I hope that my story inspires others to make choices for themselves and to learn from my mistakes and my victories. We can do it. But we have to fight for our rights and continue to fight to make changes so that other women will not have to fight the battle I did.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Victory: My VBA3C
Introducing Kael Lachlan Rodney Arnold-McKenny, Born Monday Feb 8th at 12:21 in the afternoon. 7lb 2oz and about 19 inches long
Boobalumba Has Arrived!!!
It all started with a week of stop and start annoying prodromal labour. There really is nothing quite so frustrating as playing the guessing game every time the contractions start: is this it..... THIS time!!!? But after a week of lots of contractions and various other questionable symptoms, on Saturday early evening, I was pretty certain that we were definitely on the count down. Contractions continue during the night (for the first time) and although they slowed right down and became irratic, they kept getting stronger. Sunday morning the contractions slowed to a halt for about 3-4 hours, and when they started up again, it was like being back at square one. So I kicked Nick and the kids out of the house to go to a friends to watch the superbowl, and I set out to do some serious Relaxing: filled the living room with candles, put some of my favorite aromatherapy oils in a burner and put on soothing music- got settled into my super comfy rocking chair and just.... R E L A X E D. Soon enough the contractions were steady at about 8-10 minutes apart. Nick brought the kids home and tucked them into bed late that night, and we called my best friend Lynda over to be with us. by 3am I was definitely in labour and the contractions- while still only about 6-8 minutes apart- were strong enough to need to support myself and focus on breathing through them- rocking and swaying . We called our midwife to put her alert that the party was definitly "ON". By 5am the contractions were still 6 minutes apart but very strong and I had to decide what to do next.
I knew that the kids would be waking up soon and I really didn't think I could manage to deal with my labour AND them... So I made the decision for us to head off to the hospital. It was too early, I knew it was, but I was so tired, having not really slept in two nights and I just "Wanted to KNOW" where I was in my labour, to know how far/fast I was progressing. I think that this is one of the worst things that most labouring women do- worry about the Numbers: how many minutes apart. how many cm's dilated. How many hours of labour..... so easily turning into a downward spiral.
We arrived at the hospital and were met by one of our midwives, and so started the above mentioned downward spiral. She checked me at 6:30am and I was only 3 cms.... 3? JUST 3 centimetres?!? Oh gods!!! I was immediately despondent and completely depressed. 3cms is exactly where I was when I'd gone to the hospital in labour with keira...and exactly where I STAYED with my labour with keira (which this labour had so far exactly mirrored) - which ended up in a Caesarean section.
On my midwifes advice, Nick and I started walking the hospital hallways- "to try to ramp up the contractions" as she was convinced that I wasn't actually in active labour yet... another very disappointing announcement that brought me down even further. How was I supose to continue like this? By my opinion, my contractions were Damn strong- as strong as they were when I was close to transition with Quinlin (my VBA1C home birth baby).
.. So we walked the halls, stopping to lean on whatever I had available during contractions, and we talked and I cried....I was so despondent, so depressed, and after 2 nights of almost no sleep I was completely exhausted. How was I going to make it through this labour if the contractions were already this strong and I wasn't even in "active labour" yet!?! Nick was a huge support both physically and emotionally. While we walked we talked: about my fears, about the "options", and we both knew what the "option" was.... We returned to our room and talked to our midwife about the jumble of emotions, about the labour and my fears, and we decided that we would talk to the OB on call.... I knew then that we were taking the first step down the road to another C/S, but I was so caught up in my anxiety and despondency that I had lost hope.
When the Doctor arrived finally at around 9am I was desperate for some relief from the contractions. We talked and I will say that luckily I had an OB who wasn't a Pusher: Oh, he definitely wanted me to have the C/S- to remove the "risks" of my TOL , and to save the staff from the obvious stress of even having a VBA3C in their L&D floor- BUT, he made the suggestion that he check me to see how far along in my labour I was "before" we made the final decision. For this alone, I have a big amount of respect for the man, because at that moment I was so vunerable that he could of pushed me right down to the OR himself and knocked me out, and I wouldn't of made a peep..... But instead he checked me.
I was 8 cm!!!!
From down in the valley of emotional despare so dark and heavy that I could barely breath, I flew up to the top of the tallest mountain of elation!! 8 cm?!? I COULD do this!!!! Nick's face lit up in what I knew was a mirror expression of my own. 8cm was unimaginable.
"What do you want to do?" the OB asked.
"I want to continue to labour!!!" I almost shouted in excitement.
Of course, he then started on the litany of risks, and rules I "had" to follow. He sugested that we break my water to help get things moving along which I readily agreed to (hell, if he'd sugesting cartwheels while holding a bottle of nitroglycerine I'd of eagerly agreed with him!). So he quickly broke my membranes and with a huge rush of lovely clear amniotic fluid I instantly felt baby Boobalumba drop down a bit farther. Continuing with his sermon, the OB warned me that he'd give me "One hour" to show some progress and that we would discuss "the Options" when he returned.
For the 20 minutes or so, the contractions eased off in severity though getting closer to gether. I was laughing between contractions and joking with nick and my midwife..... that break was short lived though as very soon TRANSITION fell on me like a lead curtain.
Oh it was BAD.
After an hour the Doctor returned and checked me again- still 8 cm. Tsk tsk tsk is what I got, and again he started on listing the risks and lecturing me on the dangers of having a uterine rupture if I didn't hurry up and progress. I argued with him that the fact that Boobalumba was lower WAS progress and he immediately lost my high regard of him by shushing me and telling me off like a naughty child.
Have I mentioned that I don't take lightly to someone treating me as an inferior being? Hackles got raised, and Nick quickly set about to calm me down. We were Given another hour.
Oh gods!!! Contractions were now never ending waves that carried away with it any semblance of humanity that I had left. Occasionally interesting flashes of insights penetrated through the haze of transition: thoughts of caged mountain lions screaming in rage at their captors. Comparisons between myself and the lone wolf caught in a trap that gnaws it's own leg off to try to escape.... for I was the trapped animal. trapped by the hospital staff, policies, doctors and my midwives - hooked up to a fetal monitor that inhibited my ability to move, inhibited by people telling me where to go , how to position myself and reminding me of the clock that continued to tick towards the "Dead line".
Now some of what I"m about to relay is what I learned happened later from Nick. At this point my chronological memory that records the events as they happen becomes seriously irratic with gaping holes big enough to drive a truck through.
At some point during my transition to blubbering mess, my girlfriend Lynda showed up after taking my kids to her parents house. Between Lynda and Nick, I had a small bit of calm to cling to as they took turns talking to me, feeding me sips of water ,rubbing my back and helping me get as comfortable as possible.
Then my second hour was up. The OB arrived and announced that I was still just 8cm, that my cervix was inflamed.....I begged for relief. I was ready to admit to defeat. I managed to beat back the contractions and somewhat cohearantly tell the doctor that if I could just relax for a minute, just have a moments respite to gain control of myself again.... If I was heading down the hallway to the Operating Room anyway, then give me the epidural so we could try just one last time to finish this dialation thingy that they were all so hyper about..... Nick discussed it with the Doctor and they arranged to get me an epidural and Nick bargained a further half hour aftewards to see if we could achieve the final 2 cm that they wanted.
Immediately the room seemed to fill with people- two maternity nurses bustled in to set up an IV and I remember biting the head off one of them for even thinking about putting the IV into the back of my hand.... my second midwife was there... the noise levels rose substantially and I felt like I was in a stadium surrounded by over whelming crowds. I vaguely recollect my midwife checking me again and saying that she thought the cervical lip could be moved.... and that she did something down there that wasn't' pleasant. Then they all decided that I needed to be laying down: RIGHT NOW. "Take the pressure off the cervix" "let the swelling go down".... snippets of directions, with me arguing that I didn't' WANT to lay down. I CAN'T lay down. I WON'T lay down.... yet somehow they had me down flat on the bed, taking away the last vestige of control that I had over this 3 ringed circus.
More people flooded into the room- the anesthesiologist with cart loads of paraphenalia. At somepoint they kicked Lynda out of the room on some flimsy excuse, leaving me with one less island of support to cling to.
At this point I remember feeling "The Push". I remember telling "them" that I needed to push, that I felt THAT pressure, that I needed to poop.... and I remember "them" telling me not to push, that it was too early, that I wasn't fully dilated to the golden 10. They rolled me to my side to get ready for the epidural, hands on me every where, voices ordering me to do this and do that, curl into a ball, hold still, don't move.... I tried to follow orders. The small inner voice of logic screamed at myself to listen, "don't move you idiot!! that's a needle in your spine!!!" But the primal me all of a sudden was engulfed by an all consuming command "PUSH" ....Out of the confusion of the moment, standing out from the roaring crowds came a scream "I HAVE TO PUSH!!! I HAVE TO PUSH!!!!!"
The crowds yelled back at me "don't move!!" "Don't Push!!!" ...
What came next is a moment of clarity that I will remember to my last breath, it came so clearly and so powerfully that it is permanently etched into my brain: I PUSHED. With every fiber of my being. Every muscle, every tendon, every vital organ.... I pushed once, then again. And I felt baby boobalumba burst through some invisible barrier and move down into my vagina, felt every contour every millimetre of his decent. And a primal growling scream rose out of me that was like pure energy. I was filled with a sense of exhilaration as endorphins flooded my system.....I CAN DO THIS!!!! I CAN BIRTH MY BABY!!! Only to cut off by grabbing hands and barking orders from the maddening crowds "Stop!! Don't push!! don't Move!!..." Voices tumbled over top of each other "Is the baby comeing?" Can you see the head?" "I can see the Head!" "Turn her around" "Lay on your back!" bellowing voices barking orders at me.....
The human Dani fought with the primal dani to take back control. The human logical Dani KNEW what she needed to do. Knew that she needed to take back control of her body- not just from the primal Dani, but from all of these people who were trying to control her. I needed to get up. I needed to get off my back and upright. I needed to find my voice and make these people all shut up and LISTEN TO ME.
Another contraction and another push. This time my midwife cheered me on "Push!!!!!", and I did, feeling the baby's head start to crown, the burning that brought with it that all encompassing need to keep pushing..... only to have it all come to a crashing halt: The epidural kicked in, to block all the sensations of the contractions. The voices yelled at me to push, but the urge was simply gone. Along with the realization that my guide had disappeared came the fact that I couldn't breathe. "They" kept yelling at me to push, to lay back and grab my legs and pull them back.... and I couldn't find my centre, couldn't breathe in the air deep enough to get a full breath, couldn't feel the contractions to cue me to push..... I needed to get up. I HAD to get up, I tried to tell them to let me up.... but they just kept pushing me back and telling me to grab my legs.....
"tsk tsk tsk we missed another contraction."
"Dani you HAVE to push, the baby's head is half way out!!! You HAVE to push!!!"
HELLO?! I'm perfectly aware of exactly where the baby's head is thank you very much!!!!
I tried again to tell them that I couldn't feel the contractions, that I couldn't breathe..... but the crowds drown me out with their incessant comands and natteringly annoying verbal diahreah.
I reached down and felt the top of my baby's head and ran my fingers through the masses of soggy hair. Someone pushed my hand away and forced me to grab the back of my thigh. The human Dani sighed in resignation. They couldn't hear me, they wouldn't listen. I had no choice but to do it "their" way. So ignoring the roaring of the masses surrounding me, I breathed in as deeply as I could and P U S H E D.
The relief of his head coming fully out is one that every woman who has given birth can no doubt relate to. I again reached down. I wanted to birth my baby. I wanted to grasp his slippery body as it came out of me, as we started our journey as two seperate beings. I wanted to be the first to hold him.... then someone pushed my hands away again and forced them back to my legs. And so again I pushed as "they" ordered, and baby boobalumba was born.
Strange, But as soon as he was delivered onto my belly, the human Dani completely took over again. I immediately reminded my midwife not to clamp the umbilical cord, and asked for a warmed blanket to put over both of us. Once the cord was cut a few minutes later, my midwife asked me to push to deliver the placenta. At that point one of the nurses made a motion to press on my belly and I immediately slapped her hand away and told her no, then told my midwife that I did not want any cord traction applied. As the epidural was now firmly in place and I had no feeling at all, I concentrated on muscle memory and pushed....HARD, delivering the placenta in one quick swoosh. After that, it went according to "the plan". At one point one of the nurses tried to rub Boobalumba down with a towel and I pushed her away again, but after that no one interfered with me and the baby, no one tried to weigh him or measure him or clean him. The left me alone to be with my baby.
Now that clarity had returned I could concentrate on my baby. Could interact with the people around me as a rational being again. I immediately started asking Nick for details and found out that Lynda had been kicked from the room, and that Nick had run out into the hallway as soon as Boobalumba was born to grab her and bring her back in. He also told me that the nurses wouldn't allow him to take a picture as our son was crowning. That made me so angry. But mostly I basked in the warmth of knowing that I DID IT!!!!
Oh I was MAD.
REALLY MAD!!! But on the surface I was able to enjoy the victory for what it meant to me personally: a personal validation that I was not broken. Though the birth had not gone even remotely as I had wished and my birth plan was basically trampled on by galloping hordes. I DID IT.
Writing this down, now over a week later, I am able to verbalize many things that at the moment were just notes that were stored away for later analysis. The basic need for understanding and support for the VBAC mother. Support and Care that is different than what other birthing mothers need. My personal story is one of vindication of a VBA3C mom. We are not broken. We are perfectly capable of birthing our babies without the surgeons knife. My story I hope will inspire those that were there- the OB Doctor, the L&D Nurses, my midwives- to realize that it IS possible. That it is something that can be achieved if only women are given the choice. I didn't have the "choice". I Demanded that they allow it. I didn't have their support, nor their understanding. I had to rely solely upon myself and my husband, knowing that if we wavered even for a moment- as we came so close to doing several times- we would be engulfed by the medical machine and processed as yet another number. Our birth is now a number, but one that is important: the first VBA3C to be born in Cambridge Memorial Hospital, and by the Cambridge midwives group. I hope that through my experience they will use that to open doors to more VBAC mothers. I hope that my story inspires others to make choices for themselves and to learn from my mistakes and my victories. We CAN do it. But we will have to fight for our Rights, and continue to fight to make the changes needed so that other women will Not have to fight the same battle.
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