Fifty days ago today I had the most horrible, traumatizing experience of my life. It was also the day my beautiful baby boy was born. It has taken me this long to even attempt writing his birth story because with each word that I type, it makes each moment real. These things really happened. Ten months of doing everything right and my labor resulted in a Cesarean section. I honestly still can't believe it.
You'll have to forgive me as I write this. I will probably ramble and go out of order, lose my train of thought and just not make sense. I've wanted to type this up for so long now that at this point I don't want to think too hard about what I'm saying. I'm just going to let it pour out of me. I understand if you don't finish this, I imagine it's going to be very long. I was in labor for 3 days after all. I originally wanted to include pictures but I just don't have the strength right now to type this and make it pretty. Maybe I can add them in another day. (**Pictures added 4 months later**)
Day 1: October 11, 2011
This was my baby's due date. I was 40 weeks pregnant and more than ready to finally hold my son in my arms. After weeks of sleepless nights, strong Braxton Hicks and what I think was prodromal labor, in my mind it was time. I was having contractions but I honestly didn't know how to time them. I didn't know when one began or ended, but they were definitely happening. They began around 4am and I fantasized about having a punctual baby. I was ready to be done being pregnant. But today would not be the day.
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| With Hubby before going for a walk |
Day 2: October 12, 2011
If I had any doubt the day before about whether these contractions were real, today there was no question in my mind that I was in labor. Contractions were getting stronger and closer together, even though I still had no idea how to time them. My twitter mamas were all full of amazing advice and once again I thought "this is finally happening!" Mike took me for a long walk to help move things along. A woman in the street pushing her one year old son in a stroller stopped to chat with us when she noticed my gigantic belly bump. She shared with us her experience which at the time sounded like a horror story. How she rushed to the hospital at the first sign of pain and asked for meds immediately. How hours later they broke her water and were cutting her open to deliver her son. I remember feeling a bit arrogant thinking I was better than that. I was going to deliver my baby naturally. And at home. Without a midwife. She laughed before she offered up a piece of advice: "Go home and have sex now. You don't know when you'll get to go at it again." So we did. (And we haven't since). But this did not speed things along.
That night we prepped our bedroom. Dim lights, soft music, towels on the bed, layers of chux pads, peri bottle ready, clamp on hand, a bowl for the placenta. We had it all set up. Tonight was the night. It had to be. I hadn't slept. Contractions were getting stronger. I was getting scared, though I wouldn't admit it at the time. I was uncomfortable making noise through the pain because I didn't want my father and sister-in-law to know I was in labor. I didn't want to be bothered. As a matter of fact, only Mike knew. Or so I thought. Not long after setting up the room his brother showed up. With his wife. And their two kids, 18 month old girl and 9 year old boy. I wanted to strangle him. This was supposed to be a private thing. Not a party. I would spend the rest of the time in my room. No more freedom to walk around the apartment because everyone was in the living room, ordering pizza, watching movies, having a blast. Meanwhile I was having the worst pains yet. This is when I began my thousand hot showers.
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| In the tub on my birthing ball |
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| DH pouring warm water on my belly |
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| After shower swaying |
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| Trying out the rocking chair |
I had tried everything for pain management. I bounced on my birthing ball, I hummed and swayed, I meditated, nothing helped like a hot shower. I would get in for a few minutes, feel relief, come out, another contraction would hit and I would run back in. I did this all night well into the morning. I wasn't allowing anyone into the bedroom because I wanted to stay naked, clothes bothered me. As a matter of fact I didn't want to be touched, at all. A very good twitter mama friend had been sending me links and telling me how Michael could check how dilated I was but every time we'd try I never let him touch me. I was nervous, scared, wondering when transition would come and then the urge to push so that I could meet my baby.
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| On my "birthing ball" - I was not in the mood for this picture |
I finally fell asleep for what must have been 20-30 minutes. I woke up to my older sister-in-law practically spooning me, giving me a back massage, with a camera in her hand. Apparently she had been taking pictures of me. The back rubs felt so good that I didn't care at the moment that she was seeing me naked. I asked about Michael. He was in the living room. Playing video games. I could have killed him but I was in too much pain. The contractions were hitting really hard now. I could barely walk. More showers and back rubs. That is all that helped and even that wasn't making much of a difference anymore.
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| Sneaking in a nap while SIL comforted me |
My sister-in-law had given birth naturally, no interventions, with a midwife at a hospital. She at least had some personal experience in this but when she'd give me some insight or an opinion it always felt like a demand. She'd get upset if I didn't do it. She wanted me to stop taking showers. How was I supposed to know if my water broke if I was in water the whole time? But it was the only thing that kept me from crying hysterically from the pain.
Day 3: October 13, 2011
Finally around 4am I lost my mucus plug. In the shower. But I noticed it, so ha! Finally, something was happening. This gave me some mental relief. I continued meditating, praying, singing, begging for back rubs, more showers, hoping this would happen soon. I hadn't slept in so long, my entire body shook from the pain, I was drained. How would I have energy to push?
Meanwhile Michael and sister-in-law were taking shifts sleeping so that someone could always be with me. I really appreciated that. What I did not appreciate was the continuous noise and party like environment in my living room that never fully stopped. Eventually I stopped caring because if I didn't moan, grunt and yell through the contractions I felt I was going to explode. Periodically I would get on my hands and knees on the bed and rock my hips. I did this around 7am and my water broke. PROGRESS!! I felt a pop and all this liquid just rushed out of me. Good thing we had laid down all those towels and chux pads!
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| A much needed back rub |
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| More swaying |
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| I think I was asleep - maybe ten minutes |
I thought for sure my baby was at the most just a few hours away now. I was upset that he'd be born on the 13th but at this point I'd take it! (Silly, I know, but I didn't want his 1st birthday to be on a Friday the 13th-careful what you wish for). Time kept passing by and still nothing. Looking back now, this is where I hit the wall that everyone talks about during labor.
I cried. I cried so much. I begged Michael to call the midwife we had fired months earlier. "Call her, call someone, call ANYONE, get this baby OUT." I was definitely at my limit, if not way past it. He laughed and recognized it as being transition but I was so upset and in so much pain, all that registered was him not picking up the phone.
"I'm going to the hospital. If you don't call someone to help me get YOUR son out of my vagina I am going to the hospital." I threatened him. I knew he didn't want to deal with hospital staff, I was so sure my threat would work. It didn't. He tried reassuring me that I could do this, I was almost there. But he was clearly tired too so it didn't come off very convincing. I pushed through it. I wanted to have my baby at home. The more time passed by, the more I knew that wasn't going to happen.
Six hours had passed since my water broke. "CALL AN AMBULANCE NOW." Everyone received this as me giving up. No one wanted to call for me and I could barely talk so I couldn't do it. Michael got upset and said he was going to take a shower. He wanted to be clean when his son was born. At home. We were NOT going to the hospital. I begged my sister-in-law to call for me, I begged her husband. I started getting bullshit excuses of their cell phones being low on battery and why not just ride it out a bit longer. I had made it this far after all.
And just how far along was I? I had no idea how dilated I was, still clueless in timing contractions. Then I started worrying because I didn't know what position my son was in and I started thinking of the million other things that could go wrong. I grabbed my phone and dialed 911 as I mindlessly started packing a bag. I yelled to everyone in the apartment "I AM GOING TO THE HOSPITAL. You can all stay home if you want but this is no longer happening at home." I wasn't upset by my choice, I was relieved to have the 911 operator on the other end telling me an ambulance was on their way.
This is when everyone stopped talking to me. My sister-in-law, all she could say was "Please don't have an epidural." Michael just kept shaking his head at me. But no one knew. No one knew what it felt like to be in my body. Ten months of eating right, prenatal yoga, walking, hypnobirthing, workshops and classes, reading books, talking to other home birth mamas, no one wanted this more than me. But no one was feeling the physical pain and anguish, I was in hell. And mentally I had broken down. I was beyond scared. My baby would be born in a hospital. But I would not accept interventions. I would still push him out. All I wanted was for them to understand and support me.
The ambulance ride. Apart from the bumpy ride making my contractions feel that much worse, I had Michael and my sister-in-law both arguing with the paramedics. I don't remember over what. I do recall asking them all to shut up and inject me with something to stop the pain. As soon as I said it though, it was like I didn't recognize my own voice, but at the same time it felt right. Yes. Pain meds. This is what I needed. Just a little something to help me sleep and I'd be able to do the rest on my own. But they can't give you anything for pain in the ambulance. Longest. Ride. Ever. I should also mention moving my 200 pound pregnant body into and out of a hospital bed during these god awful contractions-I thought it couldn't get any worse. (Don't worry, it does).
We get to the hospital and now we're waiting for a room. I had Michael deal with all the paperwork and the bazillion people asking me if I was crazy for trying to home birth. Why had I stopped prenatal visits, why didn't I have a midwife, why was I refusing antibiotics for GBS, why didn't I want to vaccinate my baby, why hadn't I tested for gestational diabetes. The list went on and on.
Not long after all the paperwork and interrogation (that was done in a hallway, mind you) we were taken to a room where I was hooked up to an IV and a fetal monitor on my belly. That was the first time I felt relief. Hearing my baby's heart beat. I knew he was ok in there still and that was reassuring. Michael kept asking me if I was ready to go back home yet. This upset the nurses as they urged that we stay, but it's not like I was going anywhere. I had made my choice and I was still fine with it.
They brought in a midwife per our request and I had my first internal examination. I was excited to see how close I was to having my baby. Was I 8cm, 9cm? Was it almost time to push him out? I was uncomfortable as she went in to check. She looks up at me and says I am 4cm dilated. FOUR?? FOUR FUCKING CENTIMETERS? THAT WAS IT??? All these hours of pain and lack of sleep and I wasn't even halfway there??
I suppose this is where things started to snowball because my immediate reaction was "What are my options for pain relief?" They offered me an epidural or a pain medication (I don't remember the name) that they'd administer into my IV. The pain med would only take the edge off for a few hours, I would still feel the contractions. I honestly believed that as long as I wasn't taking an epidural that I had earned a little bit of pain relief. Within minutes I was asleep.
I woke up maybe 3-4 hours later to the pain of the strongest contraction yet. Michael started bringing me ice chips because I was starving and thirsty. Not long after his brother and wife showed up with their lawyer to help us draw up forms. Apparently while I was asleep things got heated up about us refusing the vitamin K vaccine for our unborn son. This is not what I wanted to wake up to. I was in a private room with a shower so I asked the midwife if I was able to use it. It was then that she encouraged me to get out of bed and move through my contractions. I was thrilled. I took two showers back to back and started feeling better. Those few hours of sleep had definitely helped. I remember leaning on a wall while Michael was giving me a back massage when the social workers came in. They were not nice, the way they were talking to me, implying I was already an unfit mother. I yelled at them. I asked them to leave. Couldn't they see I was in pain? Couldn't they see I was in labor, trying to have a baby? Couldn't they come back later?? They stayed rambling on about who knows what. Michael was forced to deal with them since I was incapable of doing so at the time which means the back rubs stopped. I was NOT happy.
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| Apple juice never tasted so good |
It was around this time that it stopped being just a midwife coming to see me, but also an OB. The midwife was very supportive of all my decisions so far and even applauded my efforts to home birth. Enter OB. She immediately suggested pitocin and an epidural without even checking me. I refused which only made her insist more often. She came to see me more than the midwife. But honestly not long after I found myself once again in too much pain. I just couldn't breathe through the contractions anymore. I asked what my options were for pain management and all that was left now was an epidural. I accepted.
I didn't look at Michael after that and before the anesthesiologist came in his brother and his wife left without saying a word to me. They didn't return until the day I was discharged.
Getting an epidural wasn't as scary as I thought it was going to be. I didn't see the needle. The hard part is staying still in the preferred position while still having these god-awful contractions. Twenty minutes later I was in heaven. I couldn't feel a thing. All the reading, research and documentary watching I had done warning me about hospitals, epidurals and unnecessary interventions were nowhere to be found in my head.
Day 4: October 14, 2011
I got to sleep. No "taking the edge off, just a few hours of sleep"-I got to SLEEP. I was woken up around 2am by the midwife. (My baby wouldn't be born on the 13th after all). She asked to check me. I was now 7cm dilated. YES! I had that same hopeful feeling I had when my water broke. PROGRESS!!! I was so happy, I started crying. She could feel he has heads down, another sigh of relief from me. I remember squeezing Michael's hand, ignoring the fact that he was still upset. I was SO happy. Soon I'd be pushing out my baby. Soon he'd be in my arms. Soon I'd be a mommy. Then I realized I couldn't feel my legs. The epidural. I asked the midwife how I'd be positioned because I didn't want to be on my back. She informed me that without being able to feel my legs, I wouldn't be able to do it any other way. I was crushed. And scared. For some reason it didn't register at the time that I'd already accepted quite a few things that I didn't plan for and didn't want. But I honestly still believed a vaginal birth was possible.
Enter OB.
The OB comes shortly after and asks to examine me. I had just been examined and didn't want to risk infection from being checked unnecessarily but that wasn't enough for her. Apparently the midwife had shared a concern with her, one she did not tell me about, and she needed to confirm. My son was posterior and this was worrisome because they were estimating him to be 8-9 pounds. I would definitely have tearing. I didn't recognize it then. The numerous scare tactics they used on me.
Once again the OB recommended pitocin, once again I refused. It was bad enough I had accepted the epidural I thought. Besides, I was 7cm dilated. Surely things would progress a lot quicker now. Maybe two hours later the midwife returned for another internal exam. I was 9cm dilated! But the epidural was wearing off. "That happens sometimes" she said. WHAT?? That was news to me, I wasn't ready to start feeling pain again, but there it was. And to make things even more fun, my son was trying to turn so he was now transverse. I was on the clock. I was told if I got the urge to push and he was still transverse I'd risk shoulder dystocia. I'm not sure I knew at the time what that meant, but it didn't sound good. What were my options?
The midwife called the OB and she apologetically excused herself. I don't know if she felt bad for me but she clearly wasn't able to tell me what would happen next. She stepped out of the room as soon as the OB came in. I didn't see the midwife again after that.
The OB once again urged me to accept the pitocin. Pitocin? Are you crazy? That's the drug that makes contractions stronger, right? The contractions that I am once again feeling because the epidural wore off? No thanks. I'll wait. My baby will come. I was sure of it. As a compromise I accepted she hook me up to this thing that would measure how strong my contractions were. It was supposed to tell me within ten minutes if my contractions were getting stronger. If they were, we could continue waiting. If not, I had accepted to at least consider pitocin.
Half an hour passed. There was something wrong with the machine. Of course there was something wrong with the damn machine. Ten minutes my ass. The contractions were hitting me fast and they were hitting me hard. Why wasn't I getting the urge to push?? I started crying. I couldn't do this anymore. I wanted another epidural. Was that even possible? I didn't even know if I could survive the twenty minutes it takes for the epidural to kick in.
This is when I called my mom. It must have been around 5am. She had no idea I'd been in labor. Well, she probably suspected it since we talk every day and I had been dodging her calls. But I called her, crying. I told her I was ok but that I was in the hospital and the baby was coming soon. I told her I needed her to fly in today, as soon as possible. My poor mom. That was not at all how I envisioned telling her I was in labor.
The OB kept coming in my room hourly if not more frequently. I was not progressing past 9cm, I wasn't getting the urge to push and my son was still transverse. I was to either take the pitocin or take the pitocin. I asked her what would happen if I took the pitocin and I still did not progress. At this moment I was concerned about the contractions, which were already once again killing me, getting stronger, draining whatever energy I had left to push. While the epidural had worn off, the numbness in my legs had not. She told me she'd know within the hour of taking the pitocin if it was working or not. If it wasn't working, I'd be taken in for an emergency c-section.
A c-section. The last thing in the world that I wanted. But I was between a rock and a hard place and the next decision I made was based on getting my child out safely. If I was to take the pitocin, another medical intervention, and put my body through more pain and anguish for it to ultimately end up in a c-section anyway, I may as well opt for a c-section now. That was my train of thought. I had lost hope on a vaginal birth. You can say I quit, that I gave up. But I did what I thought was best with the information that was given to me at the time.
Obviously Michael had stopped being any help to me I'd say from the moment I picked up the phone and called an ambulance so I was the one calling the shots. The OB allowed me to have another hour to see if things changed. They didn't. I was then taken to the OR.
I had never had surgery before. The only ORs I'd seen were on Grey's Anatomy. It is bright, cold, uninviting. Being transferred from one bed to the next was mortifying. I've never felt pain that bad before. They had a much tougher time finding the right spot for my second epidural. I yelled at the doctors that I couldn't do it, I couldn't sit still anymore. Seconds felt like hours so who knows how long it actually took them. The person holding me (not sure if he was a nurse, doctor, etc) I just felt his grip tighten on me and he looked me dead in the eyes "You CAN do this" he insisted, over and over again. It didn't help. I wanted this to be over.
After the epidural I had to move up on the bed "just a little bit." My body was unresponsive, still in pain, all my energy completely drained. I lost it. I started yelling and crying at the top of my lungs. "I can't do this, I can't move." I kept repeating it until the surgeon grabbed me and yelled back at me: "You CAN do this. You WILL do this and you will NOT scream or give up in MY OR.You are doing this for your son...now MOVE." That not only shut me up, it actually made me feel so much better. It was the slap in the face I needed, a reminder of where I was and what was going on. This wasn't just about me anymore. It would never be just about me anymore. Soon I would have my baby. I thanked him for that speech after surgery.
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| On the OR table |
One of the nurses had warned me that one of the possible effects of surgery was uncontrollable shaking. Like clockwork, as soon as the epidural kicked in, my body started quivering. A few minutes later Michael came in dressed head to toe in scrubs. This made me smile. Probably the first time I smiled in days. He held my hand the whole surgery. The surgeon poked me with a needle until I couldn't feel it anymore. A curtain went up and I suddenly felt a lot of pushing and pulling on my belly. It was uncomfortable but I didn't feel any pain. One of the doctors asked Michael for our camera but he had left it in his bag which they made him put inside a locker. Thank goodness for camera phones. The doctor captured the first few seconds of my son's life as he was taken out of me.
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| Getting a hold of him |
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| My baby boy's head poking out |
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| I hate these bright lights :( |
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| Umbilical cord being clamped |
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| Finally being shown to us |
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| My beautiful baby boy |
His crying sounded like heaven to me. They showed us our son and I wanted so desperately to hold him and cry happy tears, but of course I couldn't. And I wouldn't get to. Not for another 6 hours. They cleaned him up, cut his umbilical cord and swaddled him. Michael got to hold him for about a minute and he placed him as close to my face as they'd allow (which wasn't very close at all since I was still shaking). Before I had time to memorize his face, he was taken away to the nursery while they finished closing me up.
This, unfortunately, is Teth Adam's birth story. The story of how he was ripped out of me in a cold, bright room instead of coming out on his own terms in our home. He was born at 9:06am. Eight pounds 6 ounces and 21 inches of pure perfection. I am so in love with my little man. It is truly a love like nothing I've ever experienced in my life, but this by no way means I need to be ok with how he was brought into this world. I am still grieving, still mourning. I feel like a disappointment to my son's father, to myself, to all the mommas who just need that extra push of confidence to try a home birth but then read stories like mine and are discouraged, but most of all I know I've let down my son. I apologize to him every day for what I've done. It will be a very long time before I come even close to getting over all of this. I have over-analyzed everything that happened but I feel that does me no good for it won't change anything.
Perhaps another day, another entry, I can find the strength to write about the difficulty of our days in the hospital. But for now I simply thank you for reading this and I hope that my feelings are understood. I only want what is best for my son, always. I did the best I could under the circumstances. If there is a next time, I hope to do better.
