International Cesarean Awareness Network

Education, Support, & Advocacy for Birth Justice & Healing

CAM Birth Story #28: Melissa's HBAC

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In honor of Cesarean Awareness Month 2010, we will be filling the blogosphere with stories from real women (and their families) who know first-hand the consequences of a 32% cesarean rate. Each day we will post at least one birth story submitted by these women. Prepare to be moved (hint: grab a box of Kleenex)!

From Melissa…

My due date was December 28th. It came and passed unexpectedly, since I really thought that I was going to give birth close to my due date. The whole week went by with gradually more and more signs of impending labor, but still no actual labor. 4 or 5 days after my due date, I had Diane, my midwife come and check me and do a stretch and sweep (I had had another one a couple of days before). Jamie had a show on the 7th and I was starting to get worried that he was going to miss the birth if I didn’t go into labor soon. I was even thinking about a castor oil/breast pump induction on the 4th in hopes of getting things going. I wasn’t really concerned about being overdue – it was more just Jamie missing the birth.

I was taking lots of supplements to get my body ready, we had a friend over who did reflexology on me, and still nothing happened. On the 2nd, I decided to drive up to my mom’s place and have her do acupuncture on me. By the time I had been home for an hour or so, contractions had started. But they were very sporadic, not too intense. I was quite sure that this was the beginning of labor, but was equally sure that it would be a long time before anything actually happened. I went to bed that night excited about what would lay in store for me through the night. Somehow, I slept through the night (save a few trips to the washroom!), and woke up around 8am on the 3rd in Willow’s bed. I heard Jamie get up and do his thing for a little while, and finally I asked him how long he had been up. He said 15 minutes. I had had 3 contractions since he woke up. They weren’t strong, or long, but they were there and frequent. By 9am I decided to call my mom to pick up Willow. The contractions weren’t nearly too strong, but she was distracting me a lot and I was getting sort of crabby with her, so she was better off with someone who could give her full attention.

My mom came and got her, and Jamie and I spent a lovely day together as contractions very gradually got stronger and stronger. This part of labor lasted all day, but it was so nice. Jamie and I rarely get the chance to spend quality time together, and the memory of our passing this time together will always be a special one. We went for a couple of little walks in the forest, ate a big, hearty lunch and dinner, played cribbage together until eventually I couldn’t focus on the game anymore. Around this time, I started feeling pain at the sides of my legs, some sort of nerve pain, with every contraction. Although things were more intense, and quite close together, I knew that it wasn’t time yet, until around bedtime, when I had finally resolved to try and sleep, that it picked up. I laid down in bed with Jamie and had two contractions that were stronger and back to back, during which I had a bit of the shakes, and they made up my mind that it was time to call our Doula, Melissa, and our midwife, Diane, and get things rolling.

Jamie made the phone call to Melissa, and, doing his best to remember what he had learned from all of my birth talk, told Melissa he thought I was in transition (because I was shaking). I heard it just as he got off the phone and told him I definitely was not in transition. Sohe called her back so that she didn’t panic and run out in the snow in her slippers! Then, we got in touch with Di and she said she’d be at our place by 10:30pm. Melissa arrived first, when I was still laying in bed. She came in and we chit chatted through contractions and eventually I got up and we sat together in the living room while I sat on a birth ball. The pain in my legs was still there, and stayed with me throughout every contraction of my active labor. Everything was quite manageable, and I was getting contractions every 5 minutes or so, give or take.

A short while after Di arrived, we decided to do an exam to figure out how far along I was. When she checked, I was 3-4cm dilated and 75% effaced, which was about where I had guessed I was (although I had hoped I was further). We decided to start taking caulophyllum and cimicifuga (sp?) alternately every 15 minutes to try and help establish a closer contraction pattern and get well established into active labor, which came soon after, but I am quite sure active labor would have come at this time, regardless of the homeopathics – I could feel the change in intensity.

I had been laying on my side for a lot of this part of labor and as things got stronger and stronger, I started really struggling through the contractions and the pain in my legs. It seemed like the pain in my legs was much greater than the pain of the contractions, much as the back pain had been when I had back labor with Willow. I was feeling discouraged because I wasn’t relaxing through the contractions, they weren’t coming any more frequently but I was not handling them as well as I wanted to be. In short, my doula head was getting in the way – I was too busy trying to analyze my own progress (and judging that there wasn’t any) to realize that I was almost in transition! When Diane checked me again, I think around 2 or 3 am, I was 7cm and baby’s head was level with my spines – lower than Willow had ever gotten. But that pain in my legs was unbearable.

When I got up to go to the washroom, just out of desperation, I lifted my leg and stomped my feet in hopes of relieving for just a millisecond, some of the leg pain – and it worked. And so, for the next 2 or 3 hours, I spent every single contraction stomping, kicking and dancing my way through labor. The leg pain was still unbearable – but I felt like I had a lot more control over what was happening, and I wasn’t tensing up the way I had been lying down. Everyone seemed to notice that my stepping was very rhythmic (unintentionally, since I was certainly not caring about rhythm by that point), and Jamie (being the drummer that he is) said he could tell how intense they were by the rhythm I would stomp (I guess I would stomp in different time signatures depending on the intensity!) I felt so much more powerful standing and moving through this part of labor, even though, considering I was so far along, I didn’t expect to be standing. I was able to move over and get my own drink of water, take a few steps and be in the bathroom without needing help to get up, and it really helped. But then I noticed myself grunting at the peak of contractions, and that’s where my mental head blocks started up. My last exam had been 7cm, which was where my labor stalled the first time, with pushing urges. I was so worried that these urges were in my head, that I was unconsciously sabotaging myself, that I would have to end up in the hospital under the same circumstances as my last birth. I knew these fears, I expected them, and I had them my whole pregnancy, but they were very real. I noticed my contractions spacing out greatly, and I knelt on the floor and rested my head on the bed in between them, as I was getting a few minutes of a break. I knew this happened often at full dilation but I still had my mental blocks, so even though they were encouraging me to push if I needed to, I told Diane I needed her to check me again (around 5am). When she checked, she said I was fully dilated except for a lip of cervix, and my waters were still intact.

I was completely finished with this whole labor thing. I was so, so happy to be fully dilated, but I was about to encounter my second mental road block: the second point that my labor stalled last time, pushing. My waters were still intact and I was not willing to wait for them to break anymore, so I asked (or rather, demanded, LOL!) Diane to break them, which she did. I had a contraction instantly and was bearing down with all my might. I flipped over onto my hands and knees right away and started pushing. The pain in my legs was still there and it was distracting me so much (WAY worse than the contractions!), but Melissa was right there in my ear telling me that once the baby is out, the leg pain goes away. And so I focused on that task. It didn’t seem like a lot of progress was being made in that position, and after maybe half an hour or so, Melissa and Diane told me I needed to change positions, so I flipped onto my right side, and put my head on Jamie’s lap. In this position, at some point, I started to figure out HOW to push. It started spontaneously when suddenly I felt some sort of burning feeling deep inside, and when they told me to push the way I just had, I knew that was where I needed to be going. It was still hard for me to reach that place on my side, though, and so eventually I flipped up onto my back, with Jamie sitting behind me so I could rest my head on his lap. Melissa stood at the end of the bed with a rebozo for me to pull onto for leverage so I could push harder, and this was when I was really able to push into that burning. But despite this, I still thought that I wasn’t making any progress, until, after maybe an hour and a half of pushing, someone pulled up a mirror and Jamie and I were able to see part of his head. I couldn’t believe it, I really couldn’t! I looked at everyone (our second midwife, Lynne Marie, had joined us at this point) and said “Am I actually going to do this?” and they all hollered back “YES!” “I’m really going to do this??” I was in disbelief. I pushed with renewed energy and then asked them – can I get the baby out on the next one??? And they said yes, and on the next push, his head came out. His cord was wrapped loosely around his neck and Diane unwound it and told me to push as hard as I could as quickly as I could. I think about 20 seconds elapsed before the enormous relief of his body finally coming out, the greatest moment of my life, and my warm, sticky baby came onto my tummy.

Jamie and I were in pieces. I think we both cried for an hour. Jamie looked at me and said “Robin?” (a name we had considered early on in the pregnancy but hadn’t revisited in a long time) and we both knew it was just right for him. I was so happy, I just could not believe that I had done it. I remember saying “I have this beautiful baby and nobody cut it out of me!” After a couple of minutes, baby needed to be rubbed a bit before he really got “started”, I thought to wonder what the gender was, and no one knew. So they lifted up the towel that was on me and we found out we had a little boy, who promptly, upon introduction to colder air, emptied the contents of his bowels and his bladder onto my tummy, yum yum! But, since I was covered up and down in amniotic fluid and blood anyway, it didn’t make much difference to me, and we sat together and cried and marveled at everything for the longest time. I was so overwhelmed with emotion, and completely dazed. Now I understand the “hormone bath” phenomenon of natural birth! It was amazing. Although, at the moment, I thought that labor was the worst thing in the world, I never wanted to think about it again, and I certainly never wanted to go to another birth again in my life.

But now that I write this, two weeks after his birth, I know that my place in life is only solidified more by this birth. I had wondered often if having a good birth would lead me to more passion in that area, or conclusion, but now I know. My own issues with birth have been healed as a result of Robin’s arrival and I’m already missing labor support and eagerly anticipating the opportunity to go to school for midwifery.

CAM Birth Story #27: Melissa's homebirth turned cesarean

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In honor of Cesarean Awareness Month 2010, we will be filling the blogosphere with stories from real women (and their families) who know first-hand the consequences of a 32% cesarean rate. Each day we will post at least one birth story submitted by these women. Prepare to be moved (hint: grab a box of Kleenex)!

From Melissa…

Interestingly enough, and hopefully inspirationally for some, the harsh memories I have from this birth, the story of which I wrote in 2006, have dimmed, and healing has set in. It took being a doula for three years and having a home birth myself, but the healing came.

I had planned and hoped very much for a home birth, but my home was out of my midwives catchment area. So, thanks to Melissa, we went in the back door and found another doula, Katherine, who was willing to host her home for our birth. I started feeling contractions on the night of Wednesday the 17th August around 12:30am (so really Thursday). They were pretty light, but I could definitely tell right away what they were. I had been tossing and turning in bed for 2 hours before they started, and Jamie had just gone to bed himself. My logic told me that I needed some sleep but I was so excited. I lay there and timed intervals between contractions (which varied from 5-9 minutes). I kept going to the bathroom to ‘go pee’…even though really I was looking for a mucous plug, or water, or something. I found it pretty quickly. I figured, contractions plus mucous plug – obviously I am in labor. I tried to wake Jamie up three or 4 times before he actually woke up – around 1:30am. I told him what was going on and he’s just like okay…..soo….what do we do? So I called Melissa. I got frustrated because I didn’t get a contraction the whole time I was on the phone with her. She told me I should do whatever I think is best, but I should definitley try as hard as I could to rest. I didn’t really try very hard at that because I was too excited and convinced, based on family’s history of births, that i’d probably be meeting my baby by the time I would normally be waking up. I really didn’t like the idea that I was going to have to travel to Katherine’s place eventually, and I wanted to do it sooner rather than later, so that I could be settled, whether it meant sleeping there, or laboring there, if I knew I was going there already, I just wanted to hurry up and get there.

I called my mother, who we had planned to have there, and she was going to call my grandmother (also coming) and pick her up and they would meet us at Katherine’s.

Silly us still hadn’t packed a bag yet (yeah yeah, days after my due date and we still didn’t) – I guess silly me thought I’d be able to do a proper job in early labor. So we called the midwives and gave them a heads up, called Katherine and told her we were coming over and weren’t sure how far along I was, but I knew it was still pretty early. Melissa had asked me how strong I thought they were on a scale of 1-10 and I said about a 4.

Contractions were handled strangely, compared to the rest of the labor. I would tense up, reach for something to grab or squeeze. They didn’t last more than maybe 30 seconds. I seem to remember standing and not wanting to stand – in retrospect I should have squatted if I felt that way, I’m sure that’s what my body felt like doing at that time, but it was still very new to me and I didn’t really understand how to follow my body. We made it into the car, around 4am. Laboring in the car sucked. I felt every bump in the road, it was very tense. I dont even remember if Jamie was in the backseat with me, but I am pretty sure that he was. The ride was about 40 minutes, as we live in Hockley and Katherine lives just
outside Bradford.

When we got to Katherine’s place, I went straight inside (she was expecting me) I guess it was around 5am. She held me for that first contraction and suddenly things really changed. It got sooo much easier. She just let me melt into her – – she’s a big woman and it came in sooo handy because she was so soft just like a pillow and I could really just melt into her! That first contraction was just when I got to the top of the stairs after I walked in the door – so she held me leaning into her standing up. It was so much easier. This gave her an idea as to how far I was and she, too, understood I still had a long way to go. She called Melissa to get some advice, since Melissa was my primary doula, and they decided the best thing to suggest would be to relax and try to drink some wine.

My mom and my gramma arrived shortly after I did. I labored on the rocking chair in the room that Katherine set up for
laboring for me. It was nice being on there, nice to relax. My mom and gramma were obsessed with timing contractions. When my mom was pregnant with me they always told her to go to the hospital when she was 10 minutes apart, but in reality, they can be 10 minutes apart for days with no changes! But really, they had their stop watches going, and would get this furrowed brow – – ‘oooh’ – – – look on their face if I got a harder, or longer,or closer together one. They really thought things were much further than they were, and I knew it, and I was kind of annoyed at what they were doing.

So Katherine let me know what Melissa had said. She said I should drink some wine and try to lay down on my side and even try to sleep, if I could. She said “Trust us, honey, you’ve got a long long way to go and some very very hard work to do and you need to be rested up.” I was already tired, since I hadn’t slept at all And I agreed with the verdict.

Katherine coerced my mom and gramma out to the living room to watch some TV. The sun was just starting to shed a little bit of light out at this point, which bothered me because I have a hard time relaxing when it starts getting light outside. Jamie and I laid down on the mattress on the floor and tried to rest. I got a little bit of rest, but it was a lot easier said than done. I was still excited, still wondering how far I was. I was really surprised when I realized that it was daylight outside. After about 45 minutes of this, Katherine told me Melissa was coming soon, and that she was going to put me to work. For the time being, I just labored laying on my side. When Melissa came, she did put me to work. We stood up, we paced, we walked through the hallways. It was tougher that way, but I knew and I could tell by my contractions, that it was definitely helping.

Melissa arrived around 7:30. With her help things really started picking up and the doulas thought it was time that the midwives come. Katherine called them for me, since I was very involved in my contractions and didn’t want to talk on the phone. They insisted that they hear me through a contraction and ask me some questions, so I did end up talking to them. It was Marcia that was to come to our birth, the one midwife that I had only met 2 weeks prior to labor, only twice, and Jamie had only met her once. Because I hardly knew her I was praying she wouldn’t be my primary midwife. She was very nice though.

I had to have Jamie with me all the time. He could barely escape to go to the bathroom, I just needed him there all the time. My mom was a big help, too. I think Katherine or Melissa had talked to them and made them understand that I needed them to relax so I could just do my thing.

Marcia arrived around 9am and watched me through contractions. We were out on the back deck outside, it was a cloudy but beautifully warmish day. It had been obvious for a long time now that I was in back labor. I could barely even feel the contractions in my cervix, what was bothering me was my back. I had to have someone pressing in on my back at all times during a contraction. Katherine and Melissa were great at this. The others got great, with my telling them “OW!’ “nononono HARDER!” “UP! DOWN! LEFT! RIGHT!!! Someone get Katherine, she does it better!” Actually, a lot of it was just me whining and shaking my head trying to tell them that, and then I would tell them after the contraction. Things were definitely intense. I was desperate for Marcia to check me, though I knew in my heart where I was. I guessed around 3 cm. She checked me at 10am (at this point I am referring to Melissa’s written birth story since most of this is a blur for me) – holy moley did it ever hurt. I had guessed right. My cervix was 70% effaced, 3cm dilated, and baby was at -2 station still. I was sad about the -2 part, but everything else was exactly where I expected it to be. My temperature was a little high at 37.6…but it was a hot day, too.

Katherine and my gramma started cooking lunch in the kitchen. We decided to try and bring my fever down by going in the shower. Marcia said a few times throughout, since my blood pressure and temperature both were somewhat elevated for a lot of my labor, she kept telling me if it gets any higher, we have to go to the hospital. here I am thinking, what? Hospital? But I feel fine…. But anyway, i went in the shower and Jamie came in the bathroom with me.

Marcia checked me again around 1:25 and I was 90% effaced, 5cm dilated, still -2. Aside from the -2, everything was going normally. I was frustrated that baby hadn’t dropped but I had guessed right, again, about my dilation. I was right where I thought I was.

Shortly after this, while I was on my hands and knees, just before a contraction, I felt a *pop* inside me. I thought, hey, that must have been the baby drop!! I said that I felt something strange. When my next contraction came, however, we discovered that it definitely wasn’t baby dropping – it was my waters. It gushed out. Jamie was so happy he cried. I was just dealing with contractions. They were really picking up. I could tell I was approaching transition. I was totally out of it. My bowels lost control, and I pooped in front of everyone. I kept thinking my god, before this I couldn’t even PEE in front of Jamie and here I am pooping in front of everyone, and I don’t even care! I was definitely starting to feel some pressure.

Somewhere in here, I had gathered that Jamie’s sister Alicia, and her 4 year old daughter Finn had arrived. I didn’t like how I felt about this – I didn’t like that a 4 year old girl was there listening to me screaming and moaning and pooping on the floor. I didnt feel close enough to her to want her to be part of this. I was fine with Alicia being there – she and I share very similar views on how the birth process is meant to go. Shortly after this, she told Jamie that she had convinced their mom to come. Jamie had really wanted her there from the get-go and I never had the guts to say anything different, though I really didn’t think she was going to be there. When I found out she was coming, my shoulders kind of slumped. I didn’t like it.

Marcia checked me and I was at about 7cm. 45 minutes later, I was 8cm, with a lot of thickness around the front. I did everything the doulas suggested to do. I really wanted this baby to turn so it could settle, since I was still -2 or -1ish. Katherine suggested I take some homeopathic belladonna to try and get the last bit of cervix. At 4pm it was still there. Janice, the second midwife, arrived around 4:30. It was really, really really hot. Within 10 minutes of her arriving, I started feeling really, really pushy.

Looking back on this part of my birth story, everything seems so normal. Early labor, dilating, waters breaking, back labor,
transition, now I’m feeling pushy. Little did I know what would happen. The midwives woudln’t let me push until they had checked me to make sure I was fully dilated – well….I wasn’t. Marcia checked me at 5pm and found that my cervix had swollen and was now 7cm. For the next hour, my urges to push were unbearable. They were so strong, I couldn’t ignore them, I couldnt NOT push. They had me putting my head up, breathing differently, but all I wanted to do was bear down and push. I couldn’t understand what was going on – why wasn’t this right? This is when I’m supposed to push baby out and have it all be over. Why isn’t it happening? Why won’t they let me? Vaginal checks were so painful but they had to keep checking me. They checked me through contractions which was the worst.

I remember at one point, in my agony, looking to the door and seeing Jamie’s mother standing at the door. I felt angry. What were they doing here? This was MY birth. They were doing nothing but sitting on the couch watching TV waiting for me to give birth and I wanted them to go away. But I had a really hard time acknowledging this, and definitely couldn’t say anything to anyone about it.

At 6pm, Marcia checked me again, and there was no change. I remember one or both of the midwives and one or both of the doulas taking me aside and asking me if there was anything going on my head that I needed to work out. For some stupid reason (and I really wish I had acknowledged how I was feeling about Jamie’s family) I couldn’t think of anything other than “I’m going to miss being pregnant”. They asked me what I was thinking and I’m just like “c-section!! GOD please!”

I wanted desperately to stay there, but desperately to go to the hospital. They told me that if I went to the hospital and got an epidural, the epidural would take the edge off my urges to push and I would probably be able to dilate. So we packed up and by about 6:40 we were en route to the Alliston hospital.

The car ride was horrible. I only had a few contractions but it was just so hard. I was in the back of Katherine’s van with Jamie and Katherine and Melissa were up front, with a midwife each in the cars behind and in front of us. I was so desperate to get there and get relief.

When we got to the hospital, I got wheeled in. My mom did all the papers for me and Jamie, Melissa and Katherine came into the room with me with the midwives. I expected to get the epidural as soon as I got there but was told the anesthesiologist wasn’t even there, and I needed to get blood work before they would give me an epidural. Janice brought me some nitrous oxide. I was desperate for anything. I felt like okay, this is an emergency and I am in the place where emergencies are handled and I am here because they are supposed to make everything better.

The nitrous was horrible. They kept telling me if I go more than 4 breaths without using it, the effects will wear off. It didn’t do a damn thing for me except make me really, really stoned. I was hallucinating, I was in another world. Jamie told me later I was turning blue, and I was practically hyperventilating I was breathing this stuff in so much. I was so desperate for an epidural. When Dr. Yacoub got there, he offered to check me before I got the epidural. It hurts so much to get checked I told them to skip it and check me after, I was positive that nothing had changed, and really didn’t want to be told it was worse. Eventually Buzzy (anesthesiologist) came in to give it to me and by 9:30 I had it in and working. 2 and a half hours!!!!!! It was agony. By this point, I had had pushing urges I was forced to ignore for 5 hours!!!! Melissa and Jamie stayed with me while he put the epidural in. By this point, I was absolutely exhausted. I had gone nearly 2 days without sleep, since I had been laboring for nearly 24 hours. I was also getting really crabby with the staff. I hated hospitals. I hated the medical establishment, and at that point in time, I wouldn’t hesitate to admit it to anyone who asks. And I hate the idea of a man other than Jamie going anywhere near me while I’m so vulnerable. When he did check me, I was still 7cm.

I slept. Jamie got a bite to eat. I was so happy to have been able to sleep, but really – sleeping, when really your body is in transition, is not sleeping. It’s just closing your eyes. My body was numb but I could still feel like I was in labor. I could still feel contractions, they were just a tensing feeling instead of an actual contraction.

Around midnight, they checked me and I was fully dilated. I think they said baby was around -1 or 0 station and I was allowed to start pushing. Before I did, Jamie’s mom came in for a little visit and a talk, and his sister came in for a few minutes too. I pushed for a little while with the nurse, Brenda and Jamie, Melissa was still resting and preparing to come in with Marcia (who had gone home to shower and rest a little herself). I couldn’t feel the pushing urge anymore. I couldn’t even feel my vagina. I tried, I strained, I pushed. Brenda wanted me on my back, with my knees to my ears. I asked if I could squat but she said no. When Marcia came, around the same time as Melissa and Dr. Yacoub, the doctor and midwife said I could squat on the birthing stool, since I could feel my legs enough to get up there (with a lot of help). I tried, I tried so damn hard. I pushed from about 12:30am until 3am, give or take half an hour or so. The doctor would put pressure on my perineum so I could feel where to push. But I made no progress. I was exhausted. I was frustrated. I felt like I couldn’t go any further. Baby’s heart rate was looking good and things appeared to be well, though I heard afterwards there was meconium in the fluid (I’m not sure if this was detected while I was pushing though). Dr. Yacoub said he suggested a cesarean. My epidural was starting to wear off and I was getting a terrible cramp in my upper left thigh. It was really bad, like worse than contractions. I didn’t know if it was feeling a contraction in my leg, or because I had been squatting for like 2 hours. But it really impaired my judgment and all I could think about was this being OVER and getting this terrible cramp out of my leg.

The worst thing about the last part is that by the time I got to the OR, I could feel the urges to push again. I wish, so, so, SOOOO bad that I could have tried to push again. Despite the leg cramps, I could feel the urge to push again. God, how I wish someone had told me to just try one more time, that it was okay. I was so used to being told to NOT push when I felt that feeling, that when I did feel it, I didn’t know what to do. They were wheeling me to the OR and I’m saying – I feel pushy, what do i do?? And Brenda just told me to do light little pushes. Why didn’t she let me PUUUSH? Why was it okay 10 minutes ago, but now I can’t?? Now that I can feel it?

On the way to the OR, in a blur, we passed by Jamie’s mom. She reached out and touched me and by this point I knew that I was bothered by her presence. It felt really violating that she was there and touching me when all this was going on.

It was scary in the OR. I was desperate for this to be over with. They wheeled me in and told me to get on the other bed,and I’m just like ‘what? yeah, right!” so they (being a couple nurses and either the doctor or the anesthesiologist) nudged me bit by bit onto the operating table. I remember snapping at them “can you be GENTLE please?” like come on, I’m in labor! Men! I’ll never understand why they feel such a need to be so involved in woman’s work.

Jamie wasn’t in there, and I was just searching everywhere for him. All I could see was all these faces with masks on them. I asked them if they could unstrap one of my arms so I could touch or hold the baby after it was born and they told me of course. The screen went up over my belly, so I couldn’t see and it was really scary. Now I kind of understand why they say they strap the arms down so mom doesn’t touch her belly – all I wanted to do was hold my belly and keep my baby so close one more time and just protect her from all this craziness and fear. I looked to my right and saw that the person behind the mask holding my hand was Marcia. Jamie came in and stayed on my left. They tested my skin with forceps to make sure the epidural was working okay,but I could still feel it. I even contemplated saying I couldn’t, but I did feel weird about being awake while my guts were being taken out of my body. After they had concluded the epidural wasn’t enough, they told me they were going to have to put me out. I didn’t know how or when they were going to do it so I looked at Jamie and said I love you and waited. Turns out they made him leave. I had no idea how they were doing it, didn’t know if it was in my IV or what, I asked a nurse and she said in a minute. Dr. Yacoub said I’ll remember very little about what happens after the birth. Then they put a mask over my face and I remember a really bad, chemical taste in my mouth and that was it.

Next thing I remember is two strange faces swirling above me and a woman’s voice saying I have a girl. I thought, what, who, a girl? I don’t have a girl, I have a boy (we were convinced.) Then I was out again. When I did wake up, Melissa was standing beside me and I told her someone said I have a girl and do I, and she said she’ll leave that stuff up to Jamie. They brought me out to the birth room. I remember thinking ‘what was the Dr, talking about, everything’s clear and I’ll remember this just fine” but really it is very foggy and the only reason I remember as much as I do is because I go over it in my head every day.

Check back this afternoon for Melissa’s HBAC story…

CAM Birth Story #22: Allison's Cesarean

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In honor of Cesarean Awareness Month 2010, we will be filling the blogosphere with stories from real women (and their families) who know first-hand the consequences of a 32% cesarean rate. Each day we will post at least one birth story submitted by these women. Prepare to be moved (hint: grab a box of Kleenex)!

From Allison…

It started Saturday the 15th at 7:00am. My midwife was going to come over and assist me in an herbal 3 day induction. Even though my due date was a rough estimate, she legally has to turn me over to an OB at 42 weeks for further evaluation before she can “treat” me any further.

I was anxious about the “induction” and couldn’t sleep really well, as I kept thinking I might get to meet my angel Saturday night. I woke up with what felt like kidney pain…I’ve had kidney stones before, and that’s exactly what it felt like. Just a dull ache that wouldn’t resolve itself by the way I was sitting, and it came in waves. I called my midwife to let her know I was awake and was ready to start the first part of it. She asked if I was feeling anything, and I told her about my back pain. She told me this was probably back labor, meaning baby was posterior. She told me a few things I could do to try and turn her. Stay on hands and knees for awhile, rest on my left side with my knees curled up as tight as possible, lunges, and a lot more. I did this for a few hours with the contractions getting stronger each time but only lasting about 40 seconds and coming every 6 minutes or so. We went for a mile and a half walk, came home, and fixed some lunch. I only wanted starches for some reason, so I just had a little bit of bread and mashed potatoes.

My midwife kept checking in with me and I kept my doula updated. By Saturday evening, the contractions were 4-5 minutes apart and roughly a minute long. My midwife said she would just come over when they were lasting longer and to keep her updated if anything interesting was happening or if they started getting really intense.

Throughout the day I cleaned, got some laundry done, watched a few movies while on my knees and draped over the birth ball, etc. My midwife said to try and get some sleep…easier said than done, but I managed to get about 3.5 hours in that night. I woke up with contractions lasting a minute and a half – two minutes and they were coming every 3-4 minutes. That was quite a jump from the night before, so I called my midwife. She asked if the contractions were still just in my back, and I said yes. She asked when I was thinking about calling my doula, and I said I thought it would be sometime soon. MW said to go ahead and call her to give her time to get the kids ready, take a shower, etc, and to have my doula call her when she got here and we would re-evaluate the situation.

We called our doula and she said she’d be out in about an hour. She came out and helped us try to turn baby…she looked online and brought a book that was supposed to give some good pointers. We tried a lot of different things for a few hours. She talked to my midwife who said she’d be out in the evening to do a check up. I couldn’t sit down all day…even sitting on the toilet hurt like crazy. She brought tennis balls, but those didn’t really help with anything. Not at this point in time anyway. My midwife and nurse came out around 4:15pm and was surprised to see me at 4cm. She thought I’d be around 3 or so. She and the nurse left to run some errands and let nature take it’s course. They came back at about 6:30, and I was at 5cm. Contractions were about every 3 minutes apart and lasting a minute each. They started setting up camp. Opened up the birth kit, lugged in the oxygen machine, the birth bag (emergency equip pretty much), etc. DH had already blown the pool up on Friday, and had it stashed away in the nursery. She asked me if I was up for a power walk. Of course I didn’t, but I figured she wouldn’t ask me to do something if she didn’t think it would help things progress. dh, my doula, and I went walking up and down my street, up and down my (super steep) driveway, etc for about 20 minutes.

We came back, I sat on the birth ball for another hour or so. My doula’s husband called and said her daughter was about ready for bed and needed to be nursed, so her husband brought her 2 kids out a little later. At this point, I had 3 cars in the driveway (midwife, doula, doula’s husband). My entire family lives within 10 minutes of here, and I know they drive by occasionally. While my doula was out in the car nursing, my midwife got a phone call from her saying that my aunt was in the driveway asking questions. This was about 8pm…day 2 of labor, and my family still didn’t know about it, because I knew the news would spread like wildfire, and I didn’t want to feel like I was being watched or that people were holding their breath for a phone call from me…I thought that might stall my labor. Anywho..the phone call from my doula was to tell my midwife that my aunt was outside. Midwife asked if I wanted her to go down and tell her to leave, but I said I’d handle it. I walked down the hill, gave her a hug, told her things were fine, I wasn’t in pain (lie, but again…knew the news would spread and I didn’t want my aunt being the first to know over my parents or sister that I was in labor) really, that they were just out to check vital signs and such, and I’d let her know when the real deal was happening. She was satisfied with this, but I had to text my mom immediately so she wouldn’t hear it through the grapevine.

As we started walking back up the hill, my doula asked if I wanted my spine aligned. Totally forgot her husband was a chiropractor! He came inside and adjusted everyone for free…that was pretty cool. It didn’t do much for labor, but it completely fixed a lower back problem I’ve been having for years. I got checked again around 9 and was still at about a 5, so we went walking again. This time, the whole crew went. I tried to eat when we got back, but it made me queasy. Baby’s heart rate had gone up to the 170s, so my midwife said I really needed to push fluids and rest. The contractions I had while on my side were more intense than anywhere else, and it was all I could do to breathe/cry through them. I had to stay on my side while drinking glass after glass after glass of water/cranberry juice/water/cranberry juice. That got her heartrate back to a normal level and our vital signs were looking great.

Around midnight I got checked again and was just a little over 5cm. I heard my midwife in the other room telling the nurse she didn’t want to transport me, but that legally she has to take me in after so many hours of no progression. I think it was something like 18 hours since she first checked me. She said I needed to sleep, or at least attempt it, but the contractions were way too painful to sleep through. She sent me to bed, but again…lying down contractions were so excruciating, I couldn’t even relax. dh brought me some mashed potatoes and bread and a glass of water. I ate all of that, and my doula suggested I put a pillow on the floor and curl over the bed (on my knees) to see if I could possibly rest that way. She was wonderful…kept a cold washcloth handy, held my glass up (we had bendy straws) for me to drink, helped me to the bathroom, etc while dh got a little sleep. I stayed this way for at least an hour before deciding I’d rather
sit on the birth stool with a chair in front of me with the birth ball in the seat (confusing to explain, but this was a somewhat comfy position and allowed me to “sit” without killing my back. I managed to get about a 3 minute power nap every 10 minutes or so, but by this point I was really needing coaching on my breathing. I’m guessing I was a bit noisy, as my midwife and nurse came in after a particularly powerful contraction to ask if I wanted to be checked again. I said I’d handle a few more contractions in this position and then I’d go for a check. She and the nurse took turns listening to the baby’s heart rate during contractions as well as my blood pressure, pulse, etc.

I got checked around 4am and was at 6.5cm…pushing 7. She said that they would start filling the pool. That’s what I’d been waiting on! I had envisioned the tub to be this haven of easier contractions. DH had already hooked up a water hose directly to the hot water heater, but we hadn’t turned it up much, so it was still lukewarm (needed to be around 100 degrees). DH woke up and started boiling water. My contractions were incredibly strong by this point…no amount of counter pressure was helpful…no words of encouragement were helpful. I remember my doula saying “pain is progress” and I wanted to beat her with the birth stool…

I finally got to get in the tub. I tried a few different positions for contractions, and I just couldn’t get comfortable at all. I got out to use the restroom and just never got back in. I found it more tolerable to be upright walking around than anywhere else. My MW said she’d check me again at 7:15 and it was now about 6:45. The contractions started coming one right after another. I remember asking “is this transition?” and the nurse said yes and I was doing great, something or another. Each contraction got stronger and longer, and I just remember watching the clock…remembering transition was the shortest phase of labor and that it would be over soon. I got worried around 7am with contractions coming like they were. Something didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel any contractions that were “stretching”…only intense, excruciating back pain. I waited until 7:15 to be checked, and I was still at 7cm. My midwife said she thought the baby was stuck and that we should think about transporting. I agreed, and she got on the telephone to find out who was on call at the 2 Little Rock hospitals (she has worked as a doula and wanted to make sure I got a nice doctor).

The next 10 minutes or so are pretty blurry. The nurse was trying to help me get dressed, my doula was in the nursery packing up diapers, DH…well, I have no idea where he was. My midwife was on the phone with the CNM she works with to see about getting my paperwork transferred or something. I started crying when I realized I’d have to sit in the car for 30-45 minutes due to morning traffic. My doula was on the phone with her husband (sitting in the middle of traffic) trying to figure out the fastest way to get there. Note, we live 2 minutes from a hospital, but it’s horrible…I’m so glad we didn’t have to go there.

DH laid back the passenger side of the car, and I lay down. Contractions were still coming frequently, but I was nervous at this point and that seemed to dull them a bit. I started texting family to let them know which hospital we were heading to. We pulled up to the hospital and my doula walked me in while DH found a parking spot. I got in a room immediately and my nurse (she was AWESOME) got me hooked up to the monitors. I got to be on my side at least. My doula put counterpressure on my back and my midwife held my hand through them. DH still hadn’t made it up yet (poor baby carried EVERYTHING up at once).

The doctor on call wasn’t available until the afternoon, so my nurse called and asked if he wanted to start pitocin to see if we could get me dialated the rest of the way. I was now at 8cm. He said definitely, but if I didn’t progress by the time he got there at 12:30 (by now, I think it was around 10am) , he said c-section. My nurse said I could go ahead and get an epidural in case a c-section was needed, so I opted for that. Pitocin was started afterwards. MW and doula came back in, my mom and dad came in to check on me. Mom (a nurse) looked at the monitors and said the baby’s heart rate looked great. Doctor came in at 12:30 and the nurse checked me…still at 8cm after a rather huge dosage of pitocin, and he said that with me not progressing much since the early hours of the morning and the baby being posterior and chin up, she doesn’t seem to want to come out that way and he’d like to do a c-section. I asked if he thought more pitocin might
work (desperate to not have surgery at this point), and he said no. I asked if I could have some time with my husband, and he said sure. I was bawling by this point, but dh calmed me down and assured me that baby was still ok and that I could do this, and that a healthy baby was all that mattered in the end. I asked my midwife if she does VBACs, and she said no, but that she knows ways to have them in my state. I agreed to the surgery and within minutes was being prepped. I begged my MW to go with me, as I knew dh would be with the baby and I didn’t want to be left alone. We got the go ahead from the anesthesiologist for her to be there and they wheeled me down the hall to the OR. That was the scariest bit was being in the OR by myself during the initial prep. dh and my MW came in soon after, though, and he held my hand. Within minutes, I heard “you fed her good, mama!” from my MW, followed by the most beautiful sound in the whole world (I bawled). They took her off for suctioning (she swallowed a little meconium) and dh got to take pictures. My midwife stood by me and answered any questions I had. She told me stuff like “baby is pinking up nicely”, “she looks great”, “lots of hair!” to tide me over until dh got to bring her around. I got to touch her face, kiss her. I remember being shocked at her size, as I was really only expecting a 7lb…MAYBE 8lb newborn. Not a 9lb 5oz and 21 in long bundle!!! They found that she was so far down in the birth canal and positioned just so that she was literally wedged there. She had a bruise on her collarbone from them having to reach in and tug her out!

The OR was cold, so the surgeon said for my husband to take the baby back to the room, and we’d be there in a few. Things got a bit hazy here, as something was placed in my IV (still unsure what it was) that made me extremely tired. I said “I don’t think I can keep my eyes open, but I want to nurse as soon as I get back.” My MW said she’d see to it that I did and to just rest. They wheeled me back to my room after I was fixed up, but I was shaking so badly I didn’t want to hold her. I was crying because I couldn’t hold her immediately, I was fighting sleep, I wanted to nurse, etc. My MW held her beside me until I completely passed out. When I woke up, she was nursing and in a cloth diaper. I had been out cold for nearly 2 hours, my blood pressure had dropped to like 90/60.

Anyway, that’s how my beautiful girl came into this world! Nursing is very challenging…it was very painful, and she wanted it nonstop, but we stuck it out. I had great support system with my local La Leche League.

CAM Birth Story #10: The Birth Story of Kenna Joy

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In honor of Cesarean Awareness Month 2010, we will be filling the blogosphere with stories from real women (and their families) who know first-hand the consequences of a 32% cesarean rate. Each day we will post at least one birth story submitted by these women. Prepare to be moved (hint: grab a box of Kleenex)!

Today is Kenna Joy’s birthday. So, in honor of her birthday and CAM, we are re-posting her birth story today. It was originally posted here.

by Krista Cornish Scott, ICAN Chapter Director

photo credit: Ken Stigler


WARNING: the pictures are not graphic but they do have a bit of blood in them, if you are squeamish. Also there are two curse words in the story that are edited but it’s obvious what they are. Please note the dates on the pictures are incorrect due to camera error.


April 4th, 2008

I am waiting. Waiting for this baby. Waiting for Brett to get here. This last week he has been back in Cincinnati, teaching, and the boys and I are still here in Rochester, waiting for this baby to arrive. I am close to 41 weeks and although I know this is normal for me, I still have been hoping foolishly to have this baby sooner rather than later. When we made the decision to come back here to have the baby with our midwife, instead of staying in Cincinnati, we knew that it would be hard and require a lot of sacrifices… but I had no idea that our generous hosts would be the ones sacrificing their own bedroom to us for so long! I can’t help but think, what if this baby doesn’t come after 41… after 42…. how many weeks will this baby need? Brett says not to worry. We’ll cross that bridge later. He is driving now and I can hardly stand it. At last, at midnight, he arrives and all my tension falls instantly away. He is here, and everything is as it should be.

April 5th, 2008
sometime during the early morning hours

I gain consciousness early in the morning, aware of a first, gentle contraction. A little thrill of butterflies flits through my stomach, “stage nerves”, but I roll over and go back to sleep, trusting that this time like the last two times, this is just the slow opening movement of a much longer labour to come. I pat my belly and say “welcome, baby”. I congratulate our smart baby on impeccable timing. Daddy’s here. Time to come.

8 am

The boys wake up. We snuggle together in the big bed, I curl up next to Brett thinking to myself that this will be our last morning together before the new baby makes us a family of five. We had planned to go to the public market and we keep those plans. I make sure to have a shower and wash my hair. Janet and Jay and the kids are still sleeping so we head out quietly to enjoy the day. We visit the Empanada Stop of course, our favourite small family-owned business at the market. We know them by name. They teach Aedhan some Spanish every week. And the family teases me about not having had the baby yet. I smile coyly and tell them that I am VERY sure that the baby is coming soon. I think I even predict that the baby will be born “tomorrow”. Of course I am right. We have a picture of this time, and I love seeing how happy our family is in that moment. Living in that moment.

empanda_stop

We move on to Strong Children’s museum, wandering among the exhibits and toys. The boys romp around happily and I just groove to the rhythm of those early contractions, one about every 10-15 minutes. I check my cellphone each time I have one, just to see what they’re doing. Slow, lazy day. We go back to Janet and Jay’s. I come clean to Brett about the contractions, and although I don’t want to commit to a statement like “I’m definitely in labour”, we both recognize that this is my familiar pattern. Wegmans is next, picking out snacks for labour (I didn’t eat anything) and snacks for after the baby is out. (Ginger beer! Yum!)

Back to the house. We spend time together. I chat on the phone to a friend who is in the middle of a fight with her husband. Every 10 minutes during the conversation I move to supportive “mm hmms” for a minute. I know she’s going to kill me when she finds out I was in labour during that call, but I feel very private about my early labour. Chat with Janet for a little bit in the kitchen, not ready to let go of my secret yet. Their family heads out for dinner with friends and Brett and I just…. go about our lives. Something that I love about homebirth that It is so normal. Here we are, living our lives, labouring. At some point the baby will come. Until then, I’ll check email, go outside, stack the dishwasher, put away some laundry, hug the boys. I call Meg and leave her a message to call me when she gets in, nothing urgent, but that I’m in labour and she should probably go to bed early that night as I’d likely be waking her up at some point that night. When she returns my call later that night we joke and laugh together. I realize during this third labour how much I really truly like the way my body does things. The long latent phase gives me time to prepare, to set myself spiritually, take time to acknowledge the passing of the old and the coming of the new phase in our family life. And to run to the grocery store, obviously.

Bedtime

The boys go to bed. Things are a bit more painful and I move to the green couch in the little room adjoining the bedroom we are in and flip through a few channels. Now I start to want to move around a bit, stand up and get the hips going. Lean over the pillow… ow. That one sucked. I can wait through a few more, probably. Um, maybe not. Ok I’m going to go downstairs to my birthing room.

Birthing Room

This is the birthing room on the day my friends came over to help me set it up.

(My women friends, knowing that although we have been so warmly welcomed into Janet and Jay’s home, this isn’t really my “space” and I need some kind of way to make it my own, came and helped me decorate what I decided would be the “birthing room”. This is a sunroom at the back of the house with a tile floor (good for easy clean-up!) and a half bathroom. It also has a separate heater from the rest of the house. And it has big windows on three sides… lots of wonderful light. It’s a perfect little space and it looks even better once we put up some decorations, arrange some special items on the table, etc)

Birth Table

April 6th, 2008

After midnight

I don’t tough it out for very long. A few contractions by myself in the little bathroom and I know I can’t be unselfish any longer and let Brett sleep with the boys. At least I gave him a couple of hours. The room is a bit cold and it’s so nice and quiet. Janet’s family had come in and gone to bed and still I was keeping to myself, needing that privacy in a place where we couldn’t ever really be totally private. I call with my cell phone upstairs to Brett’s phone that I know is beside the bed. “it’s time to come downstairs and set up the birth pool. I need company”. He blearily comes downstairs but once he is in the room, he’s all support and love and business-at-hand. Between contractions I observe him setting up the Aqua Doula but during contractions I’m wanting his hands on my back. Not my lower back or anywhere near where the pains are, but rubbing my upper back. I just want his presence, his physical self, right there with me, but not working on the contractions directly. Those belong to me.

At one a.m. I start asking for Meg. “Let’s wait a little while” says Brett calmly. I protest a bit but know he’s right. Until the next contraction when I say “I just want Meg. I want my mom. Meg is my mom-replacement for my labours you know, that’s why I like the older midwives. I just want my mommy when I’m in labour”. I prattle away. Brett humours me by listening. But it’s true… my own mother is hundreds and hundreds of miles away so she’s not an option. But Meg really does have that mothering quality to her after you get to know her personality. I have a few moments of crystal clarity about birth, my relationship with Meg, my love for Brett, and time stops for a tiny moment. I love this labouring wisdom. And then another contraction and I’m back in the moment and back working through the pain. I call it pain, out loud. Screw you, Ina May! Rushes, my butt.

The pool takes forever to fill. We use up all the hot water. And then wait. Waaaaaait. More hot water. Then more waiting. This takes hours. I’m just as whiney as usual but we’re in a rhythm. I feel like I’m running a familiar marathon this time. I am not afraid of this part. Brett stays close but stays back, if that makes sense. This time he is merely walking alongside me in the journey, not carrying me, dragging me, like last time.

5 am

I muster enough piss and vinegar to insist NOW is the time to call Meg. Brett calls and I finally get into the tub, so grateful for the water and grateful too, in retrospect, for the length of time it took to fill up. I am so happy in the water, I am utterly limp and still between contractions, a model of conserving energy. As I type I can hear in my mind the drip of the water as my hand comes out of it. I feel the butterflies in my gut the same way I felt them as I could feel the labour progressing inexorably towards the pain and hardest work of all that would come. At some point in these last few hours, my sounds have awoken Janet. I hear Jay also during the night come out of the downstairs bedroom where the five of them have squashed up together. He and Brett quietly exchange a few words. It doesn’t disturb me at all. It feels nice to know that there are others in the house expecting this birth, this baby.

Krista in Birthing Pool

6:30 am

Meg arrives.

“Mehhhhhhhhhhhhh-guh. MEG.”

“Hi Krista, sounds good”. She comes quietly into the space. My eyes are closed but my mind’s eye doesn’t need a reminder of what her face looks like as she enters the holy place, the birth place. She shines. She positively beams light from her whole body, so full of joy to be with another woman in her time of birth. I only wish that I had found my vocation as she has found hers. To have spent her life doing this work, this beautiful, exquisite work of being with-woman. I feel that twinge once again, that sadness that I know I would love this work so much but I could not do it. I’m not brave enough to do it.

“Meg.” In a plaintive little-girl whiney voice. “Meg, I’m not that far progressed because I haven’t seen my mucus plug yet”. That’s OK. We don’t necessarily need to see that. You’re In the water. Some of it could have come out before. She says the right things. My eyes are closed but I am smiling at myself. I could say all these things too, after the years I’ve spent breathing in birth like a fish breathing in water.

“No bloody show either” I say. Meg pauses. HA! I’ve got her there. After the birth she confides in me that she suspected I was probably right, probably only a 6 or so. I knew where I was. And luckily this time I also knew that getting checked would send me into a spiral of discouragement. So after a bit of dithering about it, I said no. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t keep whining about it. “Meg, these contractions aren’t doing enough. They f’ing suck but they’re not doing enough. I’m not fully dilated yet”.

Meg says something. I almost don’t need to listen to the answers. I know what she is going to say to everything I throw at her. We have done this dance before. Weeks later, I read a wonderful article online in the Telegraph by Rowan Pelling with this fabulous line:

“[my midwife] reminded me of a horse-whisperer standing in a paddock while a crazy mare careered round her, knowing that eventually it would stop its jig and walk straight to her.”

I am the crazy mare.

Now comes the time when I have to speak my fears. This is the way I transition. From fear to birthing.

“MEHHHHHHG. I’m AFRAAAAID” ….. “It hurts. My scar.” I breathe a moment. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine”

“I’m scared! I need help” We’re here is the firm reply.

“I want out. I want to go to the hospital.” No, you’re doing fine. That one from Brett.

“I don’t want to do this” No one does.

You’re so strong, Krista. “I’m not! I hate this. Baby come soon, I want you. I want you.”

“DAD! Help me… dad!”

My gut twists and I grip the edge of the birthpool. Help me Dad. A shudder of grief, I wail as I look out the window. I call out for my dead father, asking him to help me through this pain. This pain that will be over so soon, and will soon be forgotten. The pain that pales comparing to the pain of his loss, the pain of knowing that at the end, at the pot of gold, the rainbow-shimmering baby blissed out with love, there will be no phone call to him. No triumphant I DID IT and his kind voice saying Kip, I knew you could. I don’t know if I’m saying it out loud anymore. Dad keep me safe. Keep my baby safe. Help me.

“OPEN THE WINDOW” I order. Fresh cool air streams into what could probably only be described as a funk-filled hothouse at this point. Unaware of smells or sounds I am deep in transition. The top layer of my brain is aware of children outside and the sounds of making breakfast. Colum crying at the door briefly, Brett goes to him. I am unable to wrest my focus away from birthing the baby to worry about my 2 year old. He is safe. He is with friends. He is fine.

“MEEEEHHHHHHHG. I don’t WANNA push!” That’s okay. You don’t have to. Your body will just do it.

“GOOD! Because. I. Don’t. WANT. To. UrrgghhhhuuuhhPUSH!!!” I declare, as my body starts pushing.

My subconscious brain is ticking off its list of Things To Do During Labour. Bring up dead father? Check. Emotionally blackmail husband by wailing please please promise me you will NEVER make me do this again? Check. Test birthing team by throwing out the old I Want to Transport canard? Check. Whining for drugs? Check, check and double check. Oh goodie, here comes Silly Fear of Pushing on a Cervical Lip, right on time!

“Meg I’m afraid of pushing on a lip. I don’t want to push if I’m not complete.” I can check you if that’s what you want. Meg allows herself a little smile, which I do not see. She is sure that I am complete and already pushing in the water. Having already fished out what she later referred to as “the coolest, squid-like mucus plug I’ve ever seen” and other um, birthing products, with the fishie scooper, she’s pretty confident about this. Somehow I manage to get out of the water and onto the floor where I remain, head wedged between the bottom rungs of a wooden chair. I am checked for the very first time during this entire pregnancy and birth. I am complete. I am pushing this baby out.

Head Wedge
8:30 am

The household bustles outside the door. Jay is feeding the kids. Janet buzzes around not wanting to intrude but drawn like a moth to the flame of the door. At some point I have told Meg or Brett to go get her, to bring her into the room as I know the baby will be coming and I don’t want to forget to invite her in. I am filled with a supreme sense of relief that I do really WANT her to be in the room with me. I had been so worried that after all she and her family had given up for us to be here with them, all the kindness and friendship she so freely offered to us, that I would be labouring and have it feel wrong for her to be there, and be consumed with guilt about it. Thank God that didn’t happen, and Janet just smoothly entered the space and became a seamless part of the birth. Between pushes I am filled and bubbling over with this amazingly intense love for everyone and everything in the room. The chemical swirl in my adrenal system is on overload. I mew happily at Meg and Janet, I tell Brett how much I love him, how thankful I am that he has made these sacrifices to get me here. Thank you Janet, this is the right place for me to be birthing. I push again. Thank you Meg, I’m so happy you are here, I can’t imagine a birth without you. I push again. The birth amnesia has wiped my brain so completely that I can type the words about how incredibly painful pushing was, but what my body is remembering now, one year later, is that magical all-encompassing grateful, thankful love. Heck, if the OB who’d cut me had been there, I probably would have thanked him for setting me on the path that had brought me to ICAN and all the blessings in my life that have flowed from there.

Love, love, love. But yet… I still had to push the baby out. Dang! It hurt so much. I pushed on my left side, my left foot digging into Meg’s leg or hip or the couch or something in that general direction. Eyes closed. I bark “hold my leg!” to Janet and she holds my right leg up while I push. No one does anything at all, except be in the space with me. Not a single person speaks to give me advice on how to give birth. My head is crammed into the space under the chair. I lift my right arm up over my head and grab the back of the chair as I push. Words fail to describe how good that felt. It was exactly right. And. I. Pushed. Just me this time. No one told me when or how to push, I just did. And I could actually feel a baby coming down. OMG! I feel it, the baby’s head, it’s right there, it’s…… sucked back up???? What the hell? That is not FAIR! I push again, fiercely. Get! Back! Down! Here! The head comes back, I feel the pressure, my pelvis opens… and SCHLUUURP! Back up it goes. Now I’m pissed. “FINE! I’m not pushing you OUT then, you can STAY in there…..” oops here comes another contraction aaaaaaahhhhhh!!! I am PUSHING you OUT!

Something important to me this time was waiting to feel “The Urge To Push”, which I hadn’t in previous births. Very official sounding, isn’t it? And it really wasn’t what I expected, but my body just started pushing without me. It started as a little involuntary sensation, kind of like a little tickle in your throat will produce a cough, except from a quite opposite orifice. At the end of my “I don’t WANT to push” complaints, would come a little grunt and…. a push. Just a small one. And then it would get more powerful. I remember a woman on the ICAN list describing the pushing urge as “reverse throwing-up” and it is really remarkable how accurate that phrase is to describe what was happening.

The most important thing was, this birth was mine. Yes, it was nice to have Brett there to set up the tub, to affirm love to me, to be quiet support. But I didn’t NEED him there, not the intense need like Colum’s birth where I hung on him like a drowning creature, flailing and crying my way through. And Meg, blessed saintly earthy wonderful Meg… she was with-woman all right, but I didn’t need her. And such a joy to come from this birth, to understand that I really could do it, I could give birth, I was a normal, ordinary birthing woman. Priceless. Breathtaking.

9:13 am


And here she was. Turning anterior to come out, with her chubby fist up beside her head, my daughter was born into the world. My fear of shoulder dystocia was completely brushed aside. Her head came out, she turned herself, and I knew, KNEW with utter 100% certainty that she was fine, that I was fine, nothing was going to happen and she would come out. And she did. Received by the hands of her daddy. Witnessed with joy by people who loved her. Meg, Janet and Aedhan.

Thanks to Meg, Aedhan was there to see her being born. He was so anxious to be there, had reminded everyone around who would listen that he wanted to come in. I was still ambivalent about It at the time of pushing but Meg, knowing me and knowing Aedhan, prodded a wee bit to remind me. And Janet went and got him so he got to see his sister’s joyful birth.

My memory fades as to how it all went from there…. She’s a girl, I have a girl! Oh it’s Kenna, Kenna Joy is here, my sweet baby girl! It is instantly clear to me that her name is Kenna which means born of fire, and not the other name that we’d still been considering. Her cord was shortish so I reached down to smooth her hair and snuggled her close to my hip as her daddy cooed over her and Janet and Meg and Aedhan grinned. I had touched her head as she was crowning, it was so soft and wrinkled, like a wrinkle-dog, I thought to myself at the time. How incredible it was that she was here, the relief of knowing the work was done, the pain was done, was DONE! Hallelujah is there any greater feeling than the relief of that babe having come out of your body, of the Oldest Work being done and joylovethankfulness pouring, sweeping around the room, the steaming room smelling of blood and s*** and sweat and my body in release, on the cool tile, on the blankets, on the hard rung of the chair. I am spinning, I am so grateful for this gift, this woman’s work. The pictures of me at this time show stupor and not the radiance I am feeling. I am surprised to see them later as in my mind I am shining and powerful and Juno-like in my serene strength. Instead I’m pale and my hair is messy and I look like I could use a sandwich. Or two.

Someone get her a sandwich!

I am so glad that I am finished the hardest part.

We wait until the cord has finished giving Kenna all the stem cells and other goodies intended by nature for her immune system. Once it has stopped pulsing I’m eager to cut the cord as that means that she will be free to come up into my arms. Like last time, my placenta is taking its time to detach and I am more than happy to wait and not have to push anything out for a while. After about 45 minutes it comes out easily and then I pass an “awesome” blood clot according to Meg. It’s huge, bigger than my fist, and anyone who has the interest In such stuff is pretty impressed. Of course that means I’m feeling woozy so my first attempt to get up onto the couch ended with me lying back down on the floor for a minute. I was perfectly happy on the floor. I closed my eyes and Meg goes “Krista? Can you hear me?” and I just laughed. Can’t knock me down that easily, I think. Just get that baby nursing again and I’ll be fine. (Oh yes, and after my natural childbirth I’m ALL about some extra strength ibuprofin to help deal with the afterpains. Lest anyone think I’m a “martyr” or whatever other insulting term women birthing without drugs get labelled with nowadays. They did hurt but not worse than I remembered from Colum’s birth, for which I’m thankful.)

Birth-day party

I gave Janet free permission to call in the women. And in they came. Bringing gifts of food, fresh flowers, soft blankets, big smiles. They enter the birth room, strewn with used chux pads and still smelling of birth, and they go to work. Julie, Amanda, Katie, Caren. The birth pool is emptied into the side yard to nourish the grass and plants there. The mess magically disappears. My placenta is inspected and admired by Amanda the student midwife. Kenna is approvingly welcomed into the circle of women. The little girls, Margaret, Olivia, Jasmine, circle and hover around the couch, staring at the baby, touching her with one finger, running back outside to play and coming in again ten minutes later to be on the periphery of the women. The boys proudly call our family. In the busy-ness I forget to grieve my father’s absence from the parade of phone calls. I did my grieving for him during labour. I tell Brett to change my Gmail status to “baby is here!” to let my ICAN sisters know that my 41 week wait is finally over. The day is so bright and sunny and the birth room is filled with light and smiles and love. I am humbled and grateful for the love of my friends who I have missed so achingly these last nine months. I think of how lonely this day would have been had we stayed in Cincinnati and know that we made the right decision.

Meg stays for hours. The carrot-cake arrives and we all have a happy birthday piece in celebration. Someone is cooking eggs and bacon, others have brought food. I am ravenous and eat and drink and hold my sweet baby and she has not been apart from me for one single solitary second. Even when her temperature went down a bit, the answer to that was for us to be skin-to-skin and pile on the blankets. Krista on couch We are still as united as we were the day before, only now I get to see her face and her seeking eyes find mine.

The women chat and laugh. We tell other birth stories. Janet tells me that before Kenna was born she was still healing from her last, difficult birth, but now after having seen this babe born, she knows she can and will do it again. I am surprised to hear her say that as I am still fresh in the memory of how hard birth can be. I am still describing it as hard but the passing minutes and hormones are allowing me the memory instead that it was a Good Birth. It WAS a good birth. A normal birth. It was mine. I love that I can look back on it and know that what happened was I birthed my daughter and Meg, Brett and Janet watched. The way it should be.

The second VBAC was easier for me. But it wasn’t without fear. I will always have this scar on my uterus. I will always have what I refer to as the “CNN Ticker” running along the bottom of my mind’s eye. I know the complication rates. I know what can go wrong, in every possible scenario. I have dear friends who are living the truth of those abstract numbers and statistics. I know. Yet I can still trust, can still do it despite all that. “Do it afraid” we say on the ICAN list. If you can’t get rid of all the fear, then just do it afraid.

Postpartum

I am tucked up in bed. Food and drink are brought to me, I have pillows and soft blankets, I have company when I want it and naps when I don’t. I fall in love with my Kenna Joy. She is a wonderful nurser and I can’t stop patting her sweet fat body and kissing her head. We still haven’t given her a bath, she came out pretty clean, no vernix just like the boys, and I love her wild other-worldly scent. There is nothing to disturb our blissful babymoon. No strangers, no beeping machines. No protocol. Meg comes to visit several times over the next few days, and I get used to the idea that I will have to leave Rochester soon and endure the 8 hour car ride to Cincinnati. It is April, Cesarean Awareness Month. What wonderful timing. I am so lucky, and so grateful. And I know, possibly moreso than those who have never had a surgical birth, how precious and important this normal birth was.

Brett, Colum and Kenna

Kenna and Aedhan

Janet and Kenna

Our dear friend Janet who so generously opened up her home to us so we could have our home-away-from-homebirth.

Mama and Babe


If this birth story touched your heart, please consider joining ICAN.


CAM Birth Story #2: My Cesareans

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In honor of Cesarean Awareness Month 2010, we will be filling the blogosphere with stories from real women (and their families) who know first-hand the consequences of a 32% cesarean rate. Each day we will post at least one birth story submitted by these women. Prepare to be moved (hint: grab a box of Kleenex)!

From Jackie…

July 20th 1996 was my due date with my first child. I was 21 yrs. old. It was also my wedding day. It was a very small ceremony in our very small church. My Dad was not there, he died suddenly on the first, from a brain aneurysm. This was a very difficult time for my family, and I was scared that I would go into labor early from the stress. That didn’t happen, I was 42 wks when I had my last prenatal, and gladly went to the hospital for my induction afterwards.

A week before my appointment, I did start having contractions. I went into the hospital and had very painful vaginal exams and was told to go home. I was given morphine and sleeping pills. The contractions stopped, but I lost my mucus plug that night, most likely from the rough examinations.

At the hospital, the Dr. shows up four hrs. late and gives me cervidil. I go into labor quickly, and get an epidural. About 12 hrs. later I am complete and told to push. My epidural has worn off, and the pain is immense! I feel no urge to push, but push with all my might anyway, the nurses know better, right? I am in a semi-sitting position with my feet in stirrups, pulling like crazy on the arm rails. Everyone is yelling, “Push Jackie, push!!” and Dave is counting to 10 with each contraction. I want to tell them all to shut up, but I don’t. One nurse gets a sheet and has me pull on it instead of the arm rails. I can’t catch my breath and when a contraction stops, the pain doesn’t go away.

Two hrs. later the Dr. shows up and tries forceps to no avail. “You need a c-section” is all I remember hearing. I look at my husband Dave, and his chin is trembling. I will never forget that look for as long as I live. They could see Julian’s hair…I was about 2+ station when the med pros gave up on me. He was LOA, my pelvis was just too small (that’s what THEY said, not what I BELIEVE!)

They wheel me to the OR and up my epidural. What sweet relief!! Then the Dr. started cutting. “I can feel it!” I exclaim. They don’t seem to believe me. Oh my God, I thought, I’m going to die of shock, I’m going to meet you today Jesus! Then I heard a snapping sound and my baby boy crying. “Where is he?” I ask. “Right there, look!” Dave says pointing. I turn to look and caught a quick, blurry glimpse of Julian, then they put me under. My stay at the hospital wasn’t too bad. I had one nurse who was so nice! I had trouble swallowing pills, so she would crush my pain meds and put them in vanilla ice cream. She would go off duty and the other nurses would give me a hard time about me not being able to swallow them. I developed horrible gas pains…the other nurses complained that the whole floor could hear me moaning. They gave me tea and told me to walk. My abdomen hasn’t been the same since. I still suffer attacks of severe pain with loose bowels. Hey, at least I have a healthy baby, right?

Recovery was fine, though I was confronted with feelings that seemed silly. I mourned the loss of my birth. All my life I was looking so forward to becoming a mommy and giving birth. My c/s was not a birth. It was a surgery. I had some info on the International Cesarean Awareness Network, and was comforted in knowing that I was not alone in my feelings regarding my birth. I wish I would of called them then. I didn’t have a computer at the time to go to their website.

Two and a half yrs. later, in the summer of 1998, I was pregnant again. I was so excited!! I definitely wanted a vbac. I saw a different Dr. and she told me about one of her patients that had a uterine rupture and died right in front of her. I scheduled my repeat after that. I was scared as heck to try a vbac.

February 12th. 1999, my daughter Corinne was born. I was given a spinal this time. It took quite a few attempts for the anesthesiologist to get it in place. The lightening bolts of pain shooting down my legs were excruciating…tears were streaming down my face…the staff laughed gently as I relayed my fear of becoming paralyzed . Then the anesthesiologist realized I was sitting a little crooked. He remarked that an experience like that was humbling. Hmmm, glad I was the one to knock you off your pedestal! The spinal was finally in, but I still could feel too much. They put me under.(ETA 3-17-08: I failed to mention the OB’s response while I cried out in pain. He got frustrated, and I remember him saying sharply, “put her out!!”. That was the last thing I heard.) Another lost birth. I ended up with a hematoma that leaked old, orange blood. I had to wear a panty liner over my incision for almost a month!

I hated my hospital stay. One nurse scowled at me when she changed Corinne’s diaper. I was in so much pain, I couldn’t get out of bed. Dave really had to encourage me to walk around…at the time it made me so mad that he wouldn’t leave me alone. Finally, I was sent home! I had to have my incision cleaned out and clots removed from it a couple weeks later. I had the horrible fear that my incision was going to come open and all of me would be on the floor. My OB reassured me, and held up a clot for me to see. I giggled and said “How gross!” He smiled and seemed glad I appreciated his wry sense of humor…which I certainly did. It set my mind at ease, that everything was going to heal just fine. Before that when I had my staples removed, I asked the OB who did it what would happen if my incision did break open, she replied rudely “It’ll come open!”. As a Christian, maybe I shouldn’t say this, but there are no other words that fit…she was a bitch. Plain and simple. She was the same OB that marched into my room the next morning after the cesarean, and demanded that I lie down, after so much effort trying to sit up to eat my breakfast. So while my breakfast got cold, and my stomach rumbled from the hunger, that witch RIPPED off the tape on my incision with no warning, while the resident OB looked on. They quickly left with no words spoken to me, and I’m left again lying down. Again, I slowly work my way up to a sitting position to eat my cold breakfast. A month after my surgery I can finally join Dave in bed at night instead of sleeping on the couch sitting up. The huge bruise across my belly was finally fading. Seven weeks after Corinne’s birth, Dave had a vasectomy done. He always wanted just two kids. I wanted more, but I thought my body was broken, so I went along with it. My heart was broken as well.

July 2000. Dave and I were having the “I want another baby” discussion for the millionth time. This time though, he shocked me. “OK, I’ll get it reversed.” I started crying, jumping up and down and hugging him. I couldn’t of been happier!! March 12th. 2003, Dave had his vasectomy reversed. May 24th., I had two positive pregnancy tests on the kitchen counter for Dave when he came home from work. I was so happy, tears were falling like crazy, and Corinne says in her adorable 4yr. old voice, “What mommy? Do you have a baby in your tummy?”

I had a lot of work to do. I knew I was screwed out of my vbac with Corinne, the chance of a uterine rupture was less then 1%, but I was never told that!! Ironically enough, I learned that statistic from the TV show, “Birth Day”. That show pisses me off too much now to watch it…anyway, I started doing research on the computer. I joined the ICAN group…There should be no reason why I can’t try for a vba2c, right? I was thrilled to learn that a vaginal birth after multiple cesareans was definitely an option. I found an OB from a “Mother- friendly guide” that endorses the CIMS philosophy. I wasn’t comfortable at the time for a homebirth, which might of been a good thing, if the “problem” I had with my amniotic fluid was true. I’m getting ahead of myself here though…

I liked my OB. She was going to allow me a trial of labor. I had to pick my battles though. I would have to have CFM, an I.V., and she brought up “going past 40wks.” Grrrrrrrrr. 42 wks. is “over due”!! At least she took me seriously when I told her I had 32 day cycles and I ovulated around day 18. She adjusted my due date to Feb. 1st. By LMP it would of been Jan. 29th., so it still didn’t give me much more time. I had an u/s done. It was a boy!! I was so happy, baby Josiah!! At 34 wks I developed a itchy, burning rash on my abdomen and stretch marks. I did some research on my computer and came up with PUPPS. I saw a different OB who disagreed with that diagnoses. I had labs done on my liver and they came out fine. Never got an answer from the OB’s.

Josiah started kicking me really hard around wk. 37. It was so painful, I would cry out and hold my right side, feeling as if his foot was going to go through my uterus! It was so bad I almost scheduled a repeat. But I wanted my vba2c too much. I dealt with the pain as best as I could.

My OB wanted me to schedule an u/s at 41 wks. Big baby talk. I humored her although I don’t believe in such nonsense. I had a NST done at my 41 wk. appointment. It irritated me that the Dr.’s were acting as if I was over due. Liability reasons, I’m sure. I had a VE done. Mistake!! It hurt so bad. I lost my plug the next day. Just like with Julian! I have a VE, the OB messes with my cervix too much!! I was mad that it didn’t come out naturally. I was having sporadic contractions, so I knew my body was getting ready.

My u/s was that same day, I chugged down 24oz. of v-8 splash (oh sooo fun) an hr. before my appointment. The u/s tech said, “Hmmmm, there’s no fluid” “No fluid?!” I exclaimed. “Yea, I see that a lot, really common, it’s anhydramnios”. She was very nonchalant about it. She had the high risk Dr. come in the room to confirm it. They couldn’t find one measurable pocket of fluid! Next thing I know I’m on the phone with one of the OB’s from the office that I didn’t care for (the one who did my VE ). I was in tears and in shock at the same time.

I remember hearing that the baby needs to come out now because of the possibility of cord compression. “I can’t be induced” I say. “I had two c/s.” “Oh, well, you have no choice, come on in to the hospital for a c/s.” She says, with a witchy attitude. I was devastated. But I was terrified even more. I was afraid Josiah would die before I got to the hospital. I never heard of having no fluid, low fluid, yea. I was thinking he might of had kidney or bladder problems, or a chromosomal abnormality, but other than the fluid, Josiah was healthy. We dropped the kids off at my sister’s house, and headed to the hospital.

As soon as we walked up to the L and D nurses station, I started bawling. I couldn’t hold it in. I was being cut for a THIRD time!! Why do I keep getting screwed?! Two hrs. later I finally get my spinal. The anesthesiologist was awesome. He got it right in one try. He was very fast. They started cutting and I could feel it on my right side. They tilted the table to numb up that side better and it worked! It was still horribly uncomfortable though. I ask for nitrous oxide and they obliged, thankfully. Praise Jesus for that stuff!! I wouldn’t of been able to handle the surgery without it, and again would have to be put under. I started to go to sleep and Dave said, “Don’t fall asleep, Josiah is almost here.” He knew how badly I wanted to stay awake for this one. I missed Julian’s and Corinne’s birth. “I see hair!” I heard. Then the most precious sound I ever heard, my baby’s cry! “Let me see him! Let me see him!” I cry out. They held him up briefly, again, all I saw was a blur. It seemed like forever before they handed him to Dave, who immediately brought him close to me. I put my arm around Josiah and kissed him. This was by far the best c/s. I had. Although it still sucked not having my vba2c, I at least held my son as soon as he was born, and I stayed awake for the whole surgery. The nurse anesthesiologist took a beautiful picture of me and Josiah looking into each other’s eye’s, right after he was born. God bless that Woman.

The hospital stay was horrible. They wouldn’t give me any other pain meds except Toradol for the first 24 hrs, which didn’t work that great for me. I also couldn’t sleep, and if I don’t sleep, it really affects me bad…I started hallucinating and getting anxious. Finally I was given different pain meds and a sleeping pill. But it took a good couple days to mentally feel like myself again. The nurses where saying Josiah wasn’t getting enough milk, and kept bugging me to give him a bottle. I never had this problem with my baby crying so much, so I thought maybe they were right. One nurse told my husband to keep Josiah quiet. I yelled at her. UGH!! NEVER again will I give birth in a hospital!!! So I did end up supplementing in the hospital. Nursing wasn’t successful. I did throw away all the darn free samples when we got home, but 4 weeks after his birth, I gave up. My nipples were bright pink and felt like they were on fire. My OB was no help. I wish I would of thought of LLL. My heart aches now that I can’t nurse my baby.

I learned so much after Josiah was born. I read more books. I did more research on the computer. I spoke with women who had a homebirth after three cesareans, because I now feel with all my being, that birth is a normal, miraculous event, and when Dr.’s get involved in it, there is a VERY good chance they will mess it up. This culture is so BRAINWASHED into thinking that your supposed to give birth in a hospital where it is safest. What a joke! It’s sad that I had to go through all of this to see the truth of how messed up childbirth is in this country. It’s absolutely surreal.

I’m still not sure if my third cesarean was necessary. Most likely I had PROM (premature rupture of membranes) and didn’t know it. Maybe that’s why it was hurting so bad when Josiah kicked, my cushion of amniotic fluid was low/gone. I’m still confused on what the difference is of PROM with low or no fluid, and women’s water breaking in labor. Why don’t Dr’s freak out over cord compression with the latter? Was it because I had NO fluid, no measurable pockets on my ultrasound, that made cord compression a real possibility?

I did heal really well after. Physically, that is. My heart still yearns for a normal birth, something that has been robbed of me three times. I now mourn the loss of three births. But I rejoice in the three beautiful blessings that my Lord Jesus Christ has given me. And to Him, I am eternally thankful.

My attempted HBA3C: The birth story of Jadon Elijah

I can’t believe it took me this long to write my story. I started to write this Oct 19th, 2005…..but couldn’t get into all the details. It just hurt so much. My dream of actually giving birth was so close….but, only God knows why….it wasn’t meant to be.

Finally, the raw emotion is gone….the white hot anger….the deep sadness….weight of regret, and the whys are not so strong anymore. I have gone through a lot to get to where I am today. I’m weaning off all of my medications, I had unbelievable love and support from my ICAN sisters. It’s time to tell the story, and leave it behind me. It doesn’t mean that I will never think about it, or that I won’t cry over my shattered dreams. The hard part is over. I’m moving on, and looking forward to my life with my dear husband and four awesome kids.

So, it is spring time. April 20th 2007 to be exact. I love the spring time….gives me such a strong sense of renewal and healing….and hope. Ironically, I’m supposed to be at the ICAN conference right now…but I was sick as a dog. I know weaning off my meds had a lot to do with it. I really wish I was there.

Well, I better get to this story. I remember when the first twinge of pain hit, that signaled to me that it was the beginning of labor. I lost my plug a few days back…which was actually very exciting for me, as you may recall in my three cesareans story, the last two times I lost my plug was because some damn OB had their fingers where they don’t belong. When I lost my plug, I started crying and thanking Jesus. My body was doing what it was meant to do…without “help” from the medpros.

So anyway, the first twinge of pain hit me at the grocery store while shopping with Dave. I was 42 wks (second time to go that long!) and we wanted to stock up, since I knew labor would start any day.

I remember thinking when that very small contraction hit, “Ow! That frickin’ hurt! I thought labor was supposed to come on more slowly!”.

I was so excited about this birth. It would be my 1st time trying for a homebirth. In the beginning of the pregnancy, I emailed at least a half a dozen midwives in my area with basic questions….such as, “Would you attend a homebirth after three cesareans?” “What are your thoughts on a woman having too small of a pelvis and being cut for CPD?” And, “Do you mind if the woman goes to 42 wks?” I narrowed down the midwives from the answers I received and I interviewed two in person and one on the phone with more detailed questions. I choose the midwife who sounded so hands off, and she sounded like she really had faith in the woman’s body to be able to do what it does naturally….BIRTH.

Throughout all my prenatals, there was never a red flag that maybe this wasn’t the midwife for me. She said all the right things. When I asked “What if” questions, her answers always put my mind at ease.

Dave, and I picked up fast food on the way home from the store. I think it was about 20 minutes or so, another contraction hit. I had a feeling this was it.

I emailed my friend who I wanted to be there for my homebirth later on that night, I think about 11:00 pm. I told her I was in labor….it hurt right off the bat….no milder contractions leading up to the more hard ones….it was BAM in your face ow that hurt like a MF’er!!

I don’t remember what I told her, probably that I would let her know when I needed her. I couldn’t get to sleep, the contractions hurt bad when I tried to lay down….there was no way. Again, I don’t remember what I did most of the night…I know I woke up Dave about 4:00 am to get the shower curtain on the bed….I thought it was going to be soon. By dawn, the contractions were about 4 minutes apart, and I started having excruciating back pain with the contractions. We called the midwife about 6:00 am….I remember kneeling by the couch and crying after a contraction….I was saying this hurts…I want this to end!!! I thought I was in transition. Things are a bit fuzzy, but the apprentice midwife came by about 10:00 am and she checked me. I don’t think I was even 2 cm dilated. I wasn’t surprised….just remember thinking…crap….I’ve been working so hard just to be a two??

I knew my baby wasn’t in the prime left occiput anterior position. I palpated my belly so much, and got to know my baby…he (I didn’t know if the baby was a he or she until he was born) was in the right occiput posterior position when labor started. So, that gave me some understanding of what was going on with my labor….I knew he had to do a lot of turning to get LOA.

The majority of the time, Dave, apprentice and I would sit in the living room and chat….between contractions that is. A contraction would hit (about every 3-4 minutes) and I would lift my butt up off the couch, arch my back, and yell, “My back! God!! My back!”. That seem to go on for hours..actually it did. I fell asleep between contractions. The apprentice was over for “support”. She sat in my rocking chair the majority of the time, and half-assed rubbed my back during one contraction. I wanted her to leave….but, I’m just too nice, I guess.

I think my midwife showed up later that afternoon. I labored in the aqua doula which was really nice. I had my computer room all set up for my birth….affirmations on the wall, Christmas lights strung up…candles..screen saver on my computer with pretty scenery pics. It was awesome.

The next thing I remember, about 18 hours or so into my labor, my midwife says I was just a “4”, and my cervix was posterior. She said she wanted to hold it forward so that the baby’s head would apply the right pressure on it to get it to dilate, and hopefully get the cervix up and over the baby’s head. In my misery, I said, “OK”. What follows is the most excruciating pain I have ever felt in my life. She would hold my cervix forward during a contraction…me laying flat on my back. She had me push a few times to get the baby’s head past the cervix….I complied being that I was in labor land, and not thinking clearly…It was next to impossible to push…I couldn’t get on top of the pain in order to do it. My body was not ready to push, but my MW insisted that I do so, other wise my body would not be able to birth this baby.

I think it was about 4 hours in the torture chamber. I screamed bloody murder….my midwife was helping me with her tricks, and I felt like I was going to die from the pain. She suggested that I lie on my right side to get my posterior cervix to move anterior. I tried, and I couldn’t hold that position….my body would thrash uncontrollably from the pain. My midwife laid on me during one contraction to keep me from moving….I screamed into the mattress….I couldn’t escape the pain. I’m still surprised my neighbors didn’t call the cops.

We even tried the cervix pulling on the birth stool. My vaginal opening hurt so bad….I said enough. I’m going to take a bath, just leave me alone. The midwife asked Dave in the hallway, “Is she always this stubborn?”. Dave came into the bathroom, and tried to convince me to let the midwife do what she needs to do….since, my body wasn’t working “normally” and it obviously needed help. I decided to transport to the hospital. First, I had Dave call my friend. He left a message, and I hoped she would get it…she did eventually….and got over to my house about an hour after I transported. What if, what if what if…….

I got out of the tub, and someone got McDonald’s. (nice, healthy snack for a laboring Mama!) It was nice not having anyone bug me about my cervix and how something needs to be done….I sat there and ate my chicken nuggets….and during a contraction, I would lift my butt again and make all kinds of racket. My midwife suggested that she checked me again. She said I was swollen, and that she has to pull the cervix forward or the baby won’t come. She would not let me labor in peace!!!! I have read so many birth stories….the majority of the homebirth stories described how awesome, kind, gentle, and PATIENT their midwives were….even after many hours of labor….I got a midwife that I did not want, and I didn’t know what to do.

So, we went to the hospital. After laboring for approximately 24 hours at home, I had enough. I know I could of have gone on longer, if I had better support….but my husband don’t know jack shit, and he ends up trusting the midwife, instead of me.

I wasn’t ready to give up my VBAC dream yet. I told the hospital staff that I had only one cesarean. I wanted pain meds as soon as possible though. The OB on call checks me and says “That the baby is posterior!”. When she finds out that I was attempting a homebirth, she rudely exclaims, “You had no prenatal care!”. Give me a flipping break. Come in. Piss in a cup, Dip stick in cup. Get weighed. Have blood pressure read. Get naked, have ’em stick their fingers up your vagina, be told that you can’t have a vaginal birth because of xyz….told to take crap prenatal pill…yep….that’s prenatal care. Sadly, that’s the truth. That’s not care. That’s insanity. New acronym that I got from my ICAN support list: OB/GYN = Oh Boy Got You Naked. Ain’t that the truth!!

So anyways, the bitch OB says I can’t have pain meds until I consent to pitocin. Oh my word…I don’t want to delve to deeply into that one… I know what she did was unethical. I prayed in the bathroom. Pitocin with THREE cesareans??? I was so conflicted….I wanted my VBAC bad…but the pitocin scared me….I wanted the pain meds bad….I was sick of having a lightning bolt striking my sacrum!!!! I finally said to myself, I’m not getting an epidural….I will definitely feel it if I rupture….this Dr. would slice and dice me in a minute if I asked her to…so I consented to the pitocin.

I must of labored for about four hours before I was given anything. The Rn’s were so wonderful though, and treated me like any other laboring Mom. One provided a birth ball, and a bean bag to lean over on the bed with , to get my baby to flip to anterior.

I was finally given nubain, and it knocked me on my butt. I couldn’t believe how well it took care of the pain. They ended up stopping the pitocin because it had no effect. I was given another shot of pain meds later on.
In the Morning, I only had a lip of cervix left. Meconium was coming out of me, but baby was fine. The OB wanted to pull my cervix forward during pushes….I ended up peeing on her….ROTFLOL! She said it was good though, I was using the right muscles (roll eyes). I pushed a few times, and got baby to about a +1 station. After 36 hours of labor, and no real sleep, I had a fever, and the OB said it was time for a cesarean. I was in a fog, and tired of fighting. I consented to the surgical extraction of my fourth child.

I was scared to death though. I begged them to please put me under. I couldn’t explain that I had two inadequate anesthesia cesareans before. I don’t know if it’s Michigan anesthesiologists or what…..but I was numbed up OK….still not great….but I got nitrous oxide, even though it makes me paranoid. I guess spinals and epidurals just don’t work that great on me.

I was surprised how fast the OB was getting my baby out. I thought it would take a lot longer for her to get through all the scar tissue….and there was a lot, but she was fast. My baby came out, and the first thing I asked is if it was a boy. It was! He was COVERED in meconium.

I’m ashamed to admit that I allowed (as if they asked permission before they did it) these idiots to intravenously give him antibiotics. My poor baby smelled like a penicillin pill. I started giving him probiotics at 3 months old when he developed severe eczema. I have no doubt that those antibiotics compromised his immune system and caused his eczema to be so bad. Yes, part of it’s genetic, asthma and allergies run in my family, but, I also blame the damn hospital and their protocols.

I guess it’s to be expected that I would have at least one confrontation with a nurse since I wasn’t a sheeple. She said she needed to take Jadon for some tests. I asked, “what tests?” She says, “Oh, just common ones”. “WHAT TESTS?” I ask, raising my voice. Man, did she look pissed. “PKU”, she spat. “OK,….fine you can do that.” I told her. There is really no way to know for sure if they respected my wishes about not giving him the Hep B shot. The only way to be absolutely certain that these people don’t stick unnecessary needles into your baby is to have a homebirth, and that was ripped from me.

I just remembered another confrontation. One RN said I couldn’t have any other pain meds except tylenol…something about the Dr.’s order being expired or something, don’t remember, don’t really care. She was adamant that I couldn’t be sent home with something stronger. My hubby spoke to the head nurse and got the prescription….but my God. I pity the poor soul who takes this bullshit from this idiot nurse. I pity ALL souls who take all the bullshit in the medical field period.

I was sent home. Midwife came by with food and explained her theory as to why I didn’t dilate correctly. She said she thinks there was scar tissue on my uterus preventing the contractions to pull the cervix forward. Although she taught me how a posterior cervix moves forward, and what it looks like using a doll and a sweater….I don’t buy her theory. I have never seen it mentioned in medical literature, and you would think if scarred uteri prevented dilation, that would just be another scare tactic that Dr.’s would use against VBAC mamas. “Oh no!” Says the almighty, omniscient OB, “You can’t have a vaginal birth! It’s too risky! Besides, your scarred belly won’t let you dilate to push the baby out! You silly little patient you!! Your pelvis is small anyway….you want to kill your baby? Just schedule a cesarean, it’s safer for you, and safer for your baby! You can pick the baby’s birthday too! Isn’t that nice? Hmmm? You won’t have to go through all the PAIN of a vaginal birth too…now, get up on this table and lets see how your baby is….spread your legs and open wide!….wow….good thing I checked! You couldn’t push a 1 lb baby through there! What’s your shoe size? Never mind, doesn’t matter…lets schedule the cesarean around 38 weeks….you don’t want to go past 40 wks, your placenta turns to stone after that….you want a healthy baby right? OK, get dressed. You spilled some sugar in your urine, so you are diabetic, your baby would of gotten huge! At least 7 lbs!!!! And your blood pressure is high, so you have preeclampsia…remember NO SALT. Whew, aren’t you glad you are just scheduling? You guys would DIE without my infinite knowledge! Have a good day…come back next week so we can do this all over again, OK? You are such a good patient!”

Ugh. Were was I? Oh, my midwife and her theory. Anyway, I have spoken to my midwife by email quite a few times since. She was certain there were no malpositioning problems. I recently stopped the emails because there was no point. She honestly believed that my long labor was “not normal” and that she wasn’t badgering me about my cervix.

One thing that I found interesting was when I mentioned to her about her calling me stubborn. She apologized, and said she really doesn’t remember that, but perhaps she was frustrated. I asked her, “Why would you be frustrated?” She said she would not answer that one.

It kinda got ugly between us. I really wish things turned out better.

Sigh. I’m sick of writing this. Today is the 22nd ….I have been working on this when I can, but, I’m done for now. I really tried to offer her an olive branch, and tried to get some closure, but, no. It’s all my fault, and if I would of done what I was told, and if I REALLY wanted that VBAC, then I would of buckled down and had my birth.  That hurts.
I might add more to this story. But I’m glad I finally got this down. I can move on.

Jackie, Mom to:
Julian 10 c/s CPD
Corinne 8 c/s ERC for trusting that doc knows best
Josiah 3 c/s Planned VBA2C w/OB. Anhydramnios/dead baby card @ 41 wks
Jadon 1 c/s HBA3C dream shattered. Still trying to pick up the pieces.