Living life and figuring it out, one little piece at a time

Wednesday 27 April 2011

My first birth story

I've had a lot of questions about my birthing history lately, both online and off.  April is Cesaeran Awareness Month, and so I vowed I'd "come out" with the story of my first birth sometime during this month, for several reasons.  Mainly to show to the world that (despite what I believed beforehand) unnecessary cesareans can happen to well intentioned, well informed midwifery clients, but also to help those who haven't been down that road to understand a little bit of what it can be like. I wrote my daughter's birth story over a period of months when she was a baby. I don't think about it the same way that I did when it was written, and below is a combination both of how I feel now and how I felt then. It is hard to articulate what it feels like to go through an Unnecesarean (or an necesarean, for that matter) with those who haven't been there in the same way.  I think it helps to understand this - as regular women, so that we don't make the mistake of judging someone's experience, and as birth professionals so that we can provide extra support in hopes of nurturing the injured spirit that can sometimes come with a fresh scar on the body.  So, after a lot of edits from its original form, here it is.


I had a very healthy pregnancy under the care of the closest midwives available to me at the time.  Because of my lifestyle and personal beliefs at the time, I was determined to have absolutely no interventions on the pregnancy at all.  I wouldn't take tylenol for a headache, wasn't willing to eat certain foods, etc.  I refused all prenatal testing aside from noninvasive urine and blood samples. 

Because of how far I lived from my closest midwives, (25 minutes) I wasn't allowed to have a homebirth, although I wanted one badly.  We also had a pretty small home that I wasn't sure about inviting people into anyway, so birthing at the hospital seemed more practical, but I desperately wanted a homebirth anyway.  Late into my pregnancy, I found Melissa, a wonderful CBE and doula from Ten Moons, formerly known as Birth And BeYond, who not only ended up providing more support than I could have ever hoped for, but also found me a woman who was willing to let me birth at her beautiful, pristine home.  This became very special and important to me as my anxiety about interventions leaped to unknown heights as I approached my due date.  So, around 36 weeks, we started planning for the homebirth that I had wanted all along. 

I started feeling contractions around 12:30 am shortly after I went to bed on Thursday August 17 (2005).  They were pretty light, but I was an eager and excited first time Mom, and I pretty much got the ball rolling as quickly as possible.  I didn't want to labor around at home when I wouldn't actually be giving birth there - I just wanted to be where I could stay and relax.  We had invited my mother and grandmother there as well so we called them, and by around 5am we were at the birthing home, and thus also in the hands of another loving and wonderful doula, Katherine (our birthing home host, as Melissa was to join us later).  My mother and grandmother joined us shortly thereafter and we settled in, rocking on the rocking chair and watching mild contractions going by.  It was still very very early, though, so having some of the birthing team assembled and ready on the watch in the wee hours of the morning meant everyone was excited but not very much was yet happening.  Katherine suggested we try to sleep, and she sent my family outside of the room to watch TV, but the sun was just starting to rise, so I didn't really get any rest. 

Around 7:30am, Melissa joined us and put me to work, getting me up and moving around in order to encourage contractions to gain intensity. With her help, things started to pick up and the doulas suggested it was time to bring a midwife in.  She arrived at about 9am and watched me through some contractions that I was having outside on the deck.  It had been obvious for some time at that point that I was experiencing back labour, and Melissa thought my baby was probably posterior because of the pattern of contractions I was having. I absolutely had to have someone pressing on my back for every single contraction, really hard and in a very precise spot (and I wasn't afraid to tell anyone if they got the "wrong" spot!)  I had to have my partner, Jamie, there with me all the time, he could hardly escape to go to the bathroom.  He was a real comfort for me, and he really pulled through being by my side every minute that I needed him there.  Things at that point were intense for me, but I hadn't had my cervix checked yet and I was trying to be realistic about where I was at in my labour.

When she did check me at 10am, I was 3cm dilated, 70% effaced and -2.  I had tried to be realistic about where I was at, so this wasn't a big surprise, although I was disappointed about how high the baby was.  My temperature was also a bit high (37.6), and my blood pressure was a bit elevated above my baseline.  It was a very hot day, though.  We decided to go into the shower to try to bring my 'fever' down, and while doing so, my midwife warned me that if either the temperature or the blood pressure got any higher, we would need to go to the hospital.  I kept thinking "What?  The hospital?  But I feel fine..." I guess we could call that "red flag #1".  This was within only an hour or two of our midwife's arrival on the scene.

We went back outside onto the deck, and I sat on the birth ball, something I found very helpful with someone on either side of me to lean on.  Then we switched it up with stairs, inside and outside, and walking around in the yard (which was actually more like "step-step-contraction").  I found all of this walking through contractions really tough.  Jamie was so great.

Our midwife checked me again around 1:30 and I had progressed to 5cm, 90% effaced, and still -2.  Again, I was right about where I expected to have been, except for being -2.  I kept waiting for some sensation that would trigger to me that the baby had finally "dropped".  Interestingly, shortly after this exam, while I was on my hands and knees inside, I felt a *pop*.  I was sure it must have been the baby dropping, but the next contraction showed us that actually it was my water that had broken!  I'm so fond of looking at this point in my labour, becuase it was so intense, but was a real homebirth kind of point in that birth.  Everything felt right.  Jamie was so happy and excited that he cried.  Me, I was just dealing with the contractions.  They were really picking up.  I could tell that I was approaching transition.  I was completely out of it, in an entirely other world.  ("Labor land", perhaps?)  My bowels lost control, and I pooped in front of everyone.  And I didn't even care!

Somewhere in the midst of all this, I had gathered that Jamie's sister and her daughter, as well as later his mom, had arrived on the scene, although they kept to themselves for the most part, which was helpful for me because the room was already crowded with people.  I really liked the idea of his sister being there, she had been my first "pipeline" to positive birth stories and midwifery.  The house was definitely getting crowded, though, which impeded my ability to stomp around the grounds as I had been earlier in labour, because I was butt naked and I was afraid of people outside of my immediate family and birth professionals seeing me.

Around 2:30pm, she checked me again and I was 7cm.  45 minutes later, I was 8cm.  The baby was clearly still posterior, and I was doing everything the doulas told me to do to try and get her to turn.  I really wanted this baby to turn so she could finally settle into my pelvis.  I was checked again at about 4pm, and still had some cervix to push past.  The second midwife was called, who arrived around 4:30, and very shortly after I started feeling the urge to push.  Little did I know what would happen next. 

The midwives didnt' want me to push until they had confirmed that I was fully dilated - which I wasn't.  Actually, by 5pm, my cervix had swollen and I was back down to 7cm.  For the next hour, my urges to push were unbearable and unrelenting.  They were so strong, I couldn't ignore them, I couldn't 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 and have my baby and have this be all over.  Why isn't this happening?  Why won't they let me?  Vaginal checks were so painful, and they had to keep checking me.

At 6pm, they checked me again and there had still been 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 in my head that I needed to work out.  I wanted there to be less people around, but I couldn't find the words in my head (or the courage in my heart) to say it to anybody, so I made up a lame statement about being ambivalent about the end of my pregnancy.  They asked me what I was thinking, and I just said "C-section!!!  God please!"


I wanted desperately to stay there, and desperately to go to the hospital.  They told me that if I got an epidural, it would take the edge off the urge to push and I would probably be able to dilate. So we packed up, and at about 6:40 were enroute to the hospital.  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 anesthiologist wasn't even there, and I needed to get bloodwork before they would give me an epidural. One of the midwives brought me some nitrus 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. But the nitrous was horrible.  They kept telling me if I slow down how much I intake, it'll wear off, and since I wasn't feeling anything I started hyperventilating hoping to get some sort of an effect.  I was so desperate for an epidural.

When the doctor finally arrived and offered to check me, I refused to let him until I'd had the epidural.  I knew nothing had changed since the last time and I couldn't bear the pain of another exam.  Finally, at 9:30pm I got the epidural - 4 and a half hours after my cervix had started swelling.  I truly know agony.  By then, I was just completely exhausted.  I'd been in labour for nearly a day, awake since the morning before that.  I was also getting really crabby with the staff.  I hated hospitals, the medical establishment, and had no fears of expressing it at the time. And I hated the thought of any man other than Jamie being near me while I was so vulnerable.  When he did finally check me, as I had already known, I was still 7cm.  But I had an epidural, and so I just passed out.

Sleeping isn't really sleeping when you're in labour though, even when you're numb.  The body still works on.  It was more just like closing my eyes. I could still feel contractions, they just felt more like a tugging than a contraction.  Around midnight, they checked me and I was fully dilated.  I think they said the baby was around -1 or 0 station, and I was allowed to start pushing.  I couldn't feel the pushing urge anymore, though.  I couldn't even feel my vagina.  I tried, I strained, I pushed.  My midwives were catching some rest, and my nurse didn't want me upright, only on my back.  When my midwife did return, she had me up on a squatting stool, despite the numbness of the epidural, which helped me to feel validated, but I didnt change positions for nearly 2.5 hours.  I needed the doctor to put an immense amount of pressure on my perineum so I could feel anything at all, and still there was no progress. And I was exhausted.  Baby's heart rate was looking good and things appeared to be well, though I heard afterwards that there was meconium in the fluid (I'm not sure if they knew this at that point though). 

The doctor suggested a cesarean around 3am; 3 hours after I began pushing. My epidural was starting to wear off and I was getting a terrible cramp in my upper left thigh.  It was really bad, worse than the contractions.  I didnt know if it was a contraction itself, or if it was because of squatting for so long.  But it really impaired my judgement, and all I could think about was this being OVER and getting this terrible pain 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 didnt know what to do. They were wheeling me to the OR and I'm saying - I feel pushy, what do i do?? And the nurse 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?

It was scary in the OR.  I was desperate for it to be overwith.  They wheeled me in and told me to get onto the other bed.  I snapped at them a lot.  I didnt want to move, I didnt want them to move me.  Everything was agonizingly painful.  Jamie wasn't in there, and my eyes were searching everywhere for him.  All I could see were faces with masks on them.  The screen went up over my belly so I couldnt see it which also scared me, even though I knew that was regular practice.  All I wanted to do was just hold my belly and hold my baby so close one more time and just protect her from this crazyness and fear.  Eventually I looked to my right and saw that the masked person holding my hand was my midwife.  Jamie came in and stayed on my left.  Then they tested my skin with forceps to see if the epidural was still working but I could still feel it.  After they had concluded that the epidural wasn't going to be enough, they told me they were going to have to put me out.  I didn't how how or when they were going to do it so I just looked at Jamie and said I love you and waited.Then they put a mask over my face and an awful taste went into my mouth and that was it.
Next thing I remember, I had two new faces swirling above me telling me I had a girl, and I blacked out again.  I came to shortly after and Melissa was sitting by my bedside. I told her someone told me I had a girl and was it true, and she just said she'll let Jamie tell me.  They wheeled me into the room I had laboured in and saw Jamie sitting with the baby in the corner of the room.  I kind of moaned and he stood up and gave all 9lb 5oz of her to me (with a lot of help since I was very groggy).  I was so happy that it was over, I couldn't believe that I had a real baby, and that it was a girl.  That was our happy moment, and the rest turned into our lives as we know it.

Willows birth took me a long time to get over.  I don't think anyone can really completely get over the pain that I felt at the time, but I am in a very good place with it now.  Re-writing this brings back some of those feelings, but in a much different way than it did for years after it happened.  I don't feel re-traumatized when I think of her birth, I feel rewarded.  I let Willow's birth become a birth for myself as well, despite how traumatized I felt by it.  Her birth allowed me to question everything.  I questioned midwifery, I questoined myself, my supports, my baby, even whether or not she was mine.  I could probably say now that I was depressed, even numb, for some time after her birth.  I constantly relived the pain that I felt about it.  But it  birthed a passion in me - one that didn't die when I finally reached a place of healing with the experience.  I have Willow's birth to thank as the first and most important step in the direction in which my life revolves around now. 

Thank you, Willow.


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