My Journey to Home Birth after Three C-sections Part 3 - The Birth

My first three birth stories (Part 1, Part 2, Part 2.5 video montage) led me here. The journey was long and hard but I would never change it, as it brought me to the most indescribable joy I have ever felt. The following is the story of the birth of my fourth child at home, after my first three children were born by c-section.

After so much worry and doubt that I would never be given a chance to birth this baby, I finally found a magnificent midwife and felt so very privileged to be under her care. By that time I was 32 weeks pregnant. I looked forward to getting to know her better and building the trust needed to feel safe as she safeguarded my life and that of my child. We decided to continue prenatal care with the OB, and pre-register at the hospital. I wish I could have dropped OB care altogether, but there were reasons it seemed prudent. My plan was to tell him I would come in for the c-section when labor started; then, if I had to transfer, no one would have to know I had been trying for a home birth again. I was hoping to avoid the awful mistreatment I had encountered before. I was so worried he would have a problem with this. I came up with a long explanation I would give as to why, if he protested. Then, I prayed and prayed while sitting in the exam room waiting for him to come in.

The first words out of his mouth were, "How about the 13th for the c-section?"

And I asked, "Well, can I talk to you about that?" I told him I would like to wait for labor to begin and his response was nothing short of shocking to me.

He said "Sure! You are a happy pregnant woman. Most women just want it to be over with. You just need to know that it may be as late as the 25th (my due date was the 16th)."

I assured him that was not a problem for me. I would wait.

I did not pre-register at the hospital with my first homebirth attempt and I think it made the transition for care very difficult, but the registration meeting this time around was enough to send me to homebirth, if I had not already decided on it. I asked for very few things in regard to my repeat c-section and was flat denied on all counts.

“Could we take pictures of our son's birth?”

“No. No cameras allowed in the operating room.”

“Please don't give me amnesic drugs. I want to remember his first moments.”

“Well, they usually don't.”

“But, they did last time.”

And lastly I asked, "Could my husband be present while I am getting the spinal?" I had great fear about being treated the way I had been before. The answer was again, no. I could not understand why it was OK for him to be there while I got an epidural in an L&D room, but not while I had essentially the same thing done in an operating room. I know there are sterile fields, but they let students observe, who have never been in an OR before. I know this because I was one of those students, and then, I worked as an OR circulating nurse. It was one of my jobs to ensure sterile technique was always observed. They could not give me a sufficient answer other than, "It's hospital policy." My most important request was to have immediate skin-to-skin with my baby in the operating and recovery rooms. I was told, “We will try, but it will depend on if we have the staff.” Really? The most important hour of bonding will depend on if you are staffed correctly? I told her the studies I had read showed it was very important for establishing breastfeeding. She agreed with me, but told me her hands were tied. The idea of doing it all again overwhelmed me, and I cried right there in her office. She offered that if I scheduled my c-section she would personally come in for me. She was so kind and understanding, but could do nothing to change the all-powerful hospital policy. She encouraged me to talk to the floor manager and gave her my name and phone number. When I spoke to her, it was all business. I felt like she was patting me on the head and saying "Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head." Treating me like I had no idea what I was talking about and constantly saying "Well, that's just hospital policy." I could tell it was all a lesson in futility, but I felt I had to try to make them see how wrong their policies were. I ended the conversation feeling so very grateful I would not be dealing with them, or their policies.

At 39 weeks pregnant, I had been sick with a terrible cough for nearly a month. It was so hard to sleep when I was awake hacking up a lung all night long. I was exhausted and really hoping this thing would clear up before I had to labor and birth my baby. I was taking Emergen-C twice a day, soaking in eucalyptus and Epsom salt baths, and praying I would get better soon. The 39 week mark came on a Saturday. Just like my last pregnancy. That night hubby and I were intimate, and shortly after I started to lose my mucus plug. Just like my last pregnancy. I started to panic a little bit, as it was feeling all too familiar. With my daughter, I was in labor by Monday night, only to end in the operating room Tuesday night. I felt like history was repeating itself, and it scared me. I stayed home from church on Sunday because I felt miserable, and I thought I might be able to catch up on some sleep. Some friends came to pick up my kids and take them to church. They asked, “When are you going to have that baby?” To which I replied, “Maybe today.” I was having mild, inconsistent contractions and knew it wasn’t time yet, but I also knew it was right around the corner. Though I hoped I was wrong. My sister was coming to help on Friday, and I kept hoping he would hold out at least until then. I felt a little crazy for wanting pregnancy to last longer, when most women are just begging for it to end.

            I slept all day on Sunday. Then asked Kyle to stay home from work and slept all day Monday as well. Tuesday morning came and labor had not begun. It was not following the same timeline as my last experience. I was relieved and grateful. I tried to keep my mind in the present and know that this pregnancy was its own, but I was definitely struggling. Tuesday afternoon I had an appointment with the OB. I had been having mild contractions and kept praying they would not pick up in the office. I easily refused a vaginal exam and did not incur any insistence for one from the nurse, or the doctor. Why would they? As far as they knew, I was having a C-section. We mostly talked about how sick I was, and I decided to ask him for some antibiotics to clear my nasty respiratory infection. Even though I had other plans, I was so afraid of recovering from surgery with this constant cough. We left the doctor's office to run some errands. I popped into Target to get a pack of newborn diapers and just couldn’t resist grabbing a bag of Robin Eggs candy too. While Kyle filled my prescription I ate half the bag. I downed the first two pills of my z-pack, then had a sinking feeling I made the wrong choice about the antibiotics. I instantly started feeling sick to my stomach. ( I am sure it had nothing to do with the bag of candy I had just eaten ;-) When I got home I sat down on the couch and promptly barfed it all up. I saw the pills swimming in it and thought “I guess I wasn’t supposed to take those after all.” I hadn’t thrown up since week fourteen. So I knew it was yet another sign of impending labor. Soon after, my wonderful midwife came to see me. She brought the birth pool, and just seeing her calmed my nerves. Everything was falling into place. She made plans to come see me Friday, but I was pretty sure I would see her before then.

            The doctor suggested I take some cough medicine, and though I usually strictly avoid that stuff during pregnancy, I knew I really needed some sleep. So, I took a dose and went to bed. I actually slept for a good 4 hours straight. It was fantastic. At about six in the morning I was awakened by contractions. They weren't very strong, but they were coming pretty consistently. There was never more than 20 minutes between them. I took note, told Kyle, sent a text to my midwife, and tried to go back to sleep.  I slept on and off until about 10. I took some phone calls from people at my church. The first one was wondering if they could bring dinner (leftovers from the last night's church activity). I told her that would be great; because, I was pretty sure I was in early labor. She was confused and questioned if we would even be there for dinner. I told her we were staying home to have this baby.

She said "Oh! Have you had all of them at home?"

I said "No, the others were by c-section."

She didn't know what to say then. She wished me luck and I thanked her for thinking of my family. I felt completely confident in our plans. It felt good to finally share it. I had kept my plans pretty quiet. The second call was someone asking if we needed anything at the store. My church family is very good at being God's hands and takes very good care of us.

           The contractions were getting slightly stronger, but I easily breathed through them and started chanting, "Baby down and out, baby down and out." I envisioned him moving down. I moved to the couch where it remained manageable and consistent all day. That evening the young men from my church were coming over to clean my house. This had been planned for a week and a half, and I saw no reason to stop them from finishing up what I had not been able to. When they arrived I retreated to my bedroom where things continued to slowly intensify. As I bounced on my birth ball, I ate a wonderful ham dinner complete with salad and rolls. It tasted wonderful. My babysitter and her mother stopped by, and I came out of the bedroom to chat. It only took a couple contractions for me to excuse myself and retreat back to the bedroom. If I anticipated them and started breathing before they hit, I could breeze right through, but because I was chatting they caught me off guard, and they were starting to hurt. I knew at this point things were going to pick up. I just didn't know when. After they all left, Kyle started putting the kids to bed, and I made some phone calls to get them taken care of the next day. Between breathing through contractions, I talked to 5 different people and finally got it worked out. I wrote it all down then walked around the living room picking up random stuff and put it away. They were getting stronger and closer together. Then, I was brought to my knees. I leaned over the couch as each contraction became harder and more painful. It was like my body was waiting for my other children to be taken care of before kicking into high gear. This was it.

   Kyle came out from laying down with our daughter to find me struggling to get on top of the newly intensified contractions. He asked if I was OK and wondered about calling our midwife. I said, “Yes, please call her and let her know things have picked up.” He called and put her on speaker phone. She was so calm and pleasant. I remember her saying that things may still slow down, and I thought, "No way. This feels like being pushed down a hill. There is just no way this is slowing down." She said to keep her posted. Kyle decided to set up the birth pool, and I sought refuge in a hot bath. I turned on the jets, and the tightenings just kept coming. I would moan through each one. Kyle checked on me and asked if I wanted some music. I had really enjoyed music during my last labor, so I thought it might help. When he turned it on, it felt wrong. So I asked him to turn on the same artist I had listened to the last time. Then it was all wrong. I felt like I had been transported back to that place. All the awful emotions and anxiety returned. It was terrible. I snapped at him,  “Turn it off! Please, just turn it off.” He was surprised, but did as I asked. I was able to get in a better headspace while alone and things were quiet. He returned to filling the pool. It took forever... We were having water pressure issues and had an appointment for a plumber to come fix it the next morning, but it was not going to happen now. The water was coming at nearly a trickle.  He used a canning kettle to fill the pool one slow pot at a time.

When it was about half full, he asked me if I wanted to change from the bath to the pool. I was ready for a change, so I agreed. I had been up to the toilet several times and had lost a lot more mucous. It was thick and yellow. Not like I remembered it being the last times,  but it was nice to know I was making some progress.      

The pool felt good. There was more room to move, and the floor and sides were soft. Intense contractions continued, and I kept chanting, “Baby down and out, baby down and out.” Then I would say. “I.am.dying.” Positive, right? Ha! Kyle was trying to be supportive, but my daughter kept waking up and coming out of her room. So, he had to give her attention and get her back in bed. About midnight I told Kyle to call Terrie, our midwife, and ask her to come. I didn't think I was close, but she was three hours away, and I was starting to think I really needed her support. She agreed to come, and I was glad she was on her way.

When she arrived, I was still in the pool and feeling tired. She brought a remarkable presence of excitement, that I had not previously felt. She was absolutely positive I would be birthing my baby right here. I was still not sure.

After giving me some reassuring attention, she checked baby's heartbeat. I loved to hear it. It reminded me the reason I was going through all of this. Then, she asked me to see if I could feel the baby's head and tell her how far inside it was. I could feel it, but it was almost a full finger length inside. She again reassured me he would move down and where he was, was great.

Time really runs together for me after this, and I only have a few points where I was aware of the actual time. The contractions were consistent and strong, and my back was hurting so bad. I was on my knees leaning over the side of the pool. I dozed between, but if I relaxed too much when the next one hit I was a mess. When the contraction would rise, I almost felt panic as it overtook my body. The sensations running through me were unlike anything I had experienced before. I would grab for something, anything, the sides of the pool, Kyle's hand, arm, shoulder, face, whatever I could get my hands on. I felt like I had to hold on or the intense pain and pressure would overtake me. It was from my knees to my ribs, and circumferential. Terrie tried a hip squeeze and that helped a little, but not enough to make it worth it. I was hanging on for dear life, fighting to make it through each contraction. My mouth and throat were so dry because I couldn't breath through my nose, it was too stuffed up. I felt like my mouth was full of cotton, so I was doing a lot of spitting. Once, I accidentally spit right on Terrie's shirt. The look of surprise and horror on her face was just awful. I felt absolutely horrible. I had just spit on the most incredible woman I had ever met! I apologized profusely, and she quickly forgave me, but I feel terrible about it to this moment. Both Kyle and Terrie were so attentive and always had the cup of water or Powerade handy for drinks between contractions. They offered me a piece of toast, but my mouth was so dry I couldn't even swallow it without gulping water to get it down. So, I only got one bite in me.

This went on for hours, and hours, and hours. I was in a cycle. Wash, rinse, and repeat. Kyle and Terrie would take turns trying to get some rest, but if they happened to be able to doze off, they were always awakened by my relentless yelling, screaming, and moaning. When Kyle was resting, Terrie encouraged me to get out of the pool and walk. Telling me being upright would help things progress, but when I was out of the water I panicked. When a contraction would come, I didn't know what to do. Where am I going to be? What do I do with my body? What do I hold on to? How do I contain this overwhelming power? I just didn't know how to deal without the walls of the birth pool. So, she could only coax me through a few laps before I retreated back to my safe place. Those pool walls contained me, literally. I would grab the side and push against the opposite side with all my strength. I am surprised I didn't break it and flood my living room.

At about 7 in the morning, my children woke up. Just before this, both Kyle and Terrie warned me they would be up soon and to try to stay quiet and calm so I wouldn't worry them. Kyle had to get them ready and out the door so Terrie stayed by me, getting me through. All of this broke my concentration a bit, and it was very hard to stay quiet. All my kids wanted to do was come see me, but they kept telling them to stay out. I wanted them to be able to come in, but with everything going on I was not coping well at all. I needed to feel unrestricted and undisturbed. I was relieved when they were out the door and I could restore my routine, at least in my mind.

Terrie continued to ask me to tell her how far in I felt his head. At about 10 am I could feel he had moved down quite a bit. I felt his head just two knuckles in, but it felt different in there. There was a big squishy thing in front of his head. I didn't know what it was. She said it was probably one of two things, either the bag of waters or my cervix. I wanted to know what I was feeling, so I asked her if she would check and tell me what it was. She said if I really wanted her to, she would. I was so grateful for her hands-out approach. Something I learned from my last labor: checking does nothing but cause more pain. It does not help things progress more quickly or really even assess how much further there is to go. She also told me she would be checking for dilation. She wanted to prepare me because it may be uncomfortable. It was crazy, I barely felt her in there at all. When I was in labor with my daughter, every exam was excruciating. It felt like the woman was reaching all the way up to my throat. But this was nothing like that. It further solidified my complete trust in her. She told me I was at 7 centimeters, and the squishy thing was my cervix. She tried to boost my confidence, saying only three more to go. Truly, I was so wrapped up in all the labor sensations the number didn't even mean anything to me. Part of me was sure this would go on forever.

At one point I got out of the pool and tried sitting on the birth ball in my bedroom. It did not feel right. I ended up leaning back into a plastic bin in a really strange position. I’m not sure how long I stayed that way. Then I went to the bed, and she checked me again. She never said what she felt and I never asked. Every time I checked on how far in his head was, it seemed like he had not moved any closer to coming out. Each time I would show Terrie on my finger how far in he was. It stayed in between my first two knuckles for what seemed like forever. She always responded so positively with "He is moving. Millimeters, millimeters but he is moving." She continued to reassure me, as I was losing hope. "Everything is normal. All of this is perfectly normal. He is doing well and you are doing well." Her reassurance helped me carry on, even though I was starting to lose perspective. I kept wishing I could go to the hospital for pain relief. I just wanted an epidural. I really wanted some relief, but I knew the moment I stepped into a hospital they would cut me open. That knowledge spurred me on.

But those things could only take me so far. Finally, I had, had enough. I felt completely drained and was just sure I could go no further. I told Terrie and Kyle I was done and wanted to go to the hospital. I realize now, I never really saw the end. I just thought I would endure the pain of contractions until I absolutely could not anymore, then go in and get a c-section. That is pretty much how it happened last time. I had not experienced anything else. I didn’t believe I was actually going to get to experience what I had worked so very hard for. My spirit had been broken. I would willing go to the slaughter. I thought I was defeated… again. While holding me up, Kyle looked at Terrie and said, “We need some hope.” I really felt defeated then. Even Kyle had lost hope. Terrie calmly explained to us that I could go to the hospital, but everything was normal and going well. I knew she was right, but I just didn’t think I had anything left to give. She again suggested we walk. I leaned forward on Kyle and hobbled to the bathroom. I was bent at the waist at almost a 90 degree angle. I sat on the toilet, in my very small bathroom, and checked again how things were going down there. He was holding steady where he had been for hours, just past my first knuckle. But I could feel a lip of cervix for sure this time. Terrie suggested I try to push it up over his head. I tried, but I couldn’t get the right angle on it.

I told her, “I want you to do it.”

She said, “You don’t want me to do it.”

I conceded that she was right. She knew what the last midwife had done to me, and knew that was not what I wanted. While I sat on the toilet she went in the other room. I found out later, she was praying to know how to help me. I had another particularly hard contraction and I started saying, “Please Heavenly Father. Let me have this miracle.” My husband is agnostic and does not pray, but I started yelling that he needed to ask for this miracle too. He looked at me like I was a little crazy, but said it loud and proud anyway. I started to get my courage back. When Terrie returned she had a mirror for me to see what was happening. She showed me that my lips were beginning to open and told me it was all good progress. I was starting to believe it might actually happen. Then my water broke. I heard it pop and I got to see it in the mirror. It was like a little spit. No gush, no trickle, just a pffft. I stood up just as another contraction hit. Kyle was sitting on the bathtub next to the toilet and I threw my whole body over him. I had one leg on the wall and was pushing him over the half wall at the end of the tub, while nearly climbing to the top of his head. All while yelling, “I know I’m hurting you, but I HAVE TO!” Terrie said later she was trying so hard not to laugh at the sight of us. Me sprawled out on top of him, dripping amniotic fluid on his leg, and him just taking it.

Then, it was time to walk again. She told me I should keep my hips under my body as I walked. I felt like this was impossible. I asked Kyle if he would stand behind me and act as a wall that I could push my hips against. We held hands and bent our arms, his under mine holding me up. We walked, and when a contraction would hit, I would lift my feet off the ground and try to get traction anywhere I could, the walls, the banister, at one point it was the kitchen counter and the opposite window. I was instinctively pushing. No one told me to push, I just did. I made it around the loop of my house twice. Hallway, kitchen, dining room, livingroom, hallway, hallway and ended up at the top of my stairs in the kitchen. Terrie said it would be alright if I squatted or got on hands and knees. Previously, in the pool, she had advised against squatting as she didn’t think baby was down far enough for it to help. Since she told me it was now ok, I started to realize I was really making progress. This was actually going to happen. It was like everything came into focus. I was no longer flailing and trying to get footing wherever I could. I knew just what to do and how to do it. The screaming and yelling stopped. I was calm and determined. I decided hands and knees was right. They brought a foam pool float for me to kneel on (I have hardwood floors). Kyle applied immense pressure to my sacrum. It felt great. I pushed for about three contractions. I told them it felt like baby was going to blow out my butt. Terrie was so happy. She kept saying, "That’s good, that’s good." It was a strange feeling, but I knew she was right, this was good.

Knowing just what to do, I decided now I needed to go to the bathroom. Everyone was in agreement and off we went. I sat down on the toilet and reassessed the situation. I could feel the lip of cervix had thinned out. I could finally get ahold of it. I told it what for, "Get out of the way you piece of ©%*#!" I hooked it with my first two fingers and pulled it up over his head. Such triumph! I had finally gotten the best of that stubborn cervix. Next contraction I had one foot on the tub and instructed them I needed a stool for my other foot. To which Terrie responded with excitement "Yes, yes this is so good!" I pushed like that for one contraction. Then I said, "Now I want to get on my hands and knees." More great encouragement from Terrie, and a cushion under my knees. It was a tight squeeze in my little bathroom. But it was working. Kyle resumed pushing on my sacrum and l pushed with the next contraction. It felt amazing. Then I stated matter of factly, "Now I need to go to the bedroom." "Good, good!" More fantastic encouragement.

Between contractions I crawled around the corner to the foot of my bed. I instinctively got more upright. I knelt at the foot of my bed leaning slightly over and grabbed fistfuls of my blue sheets. These next moments play in my mind like a dream. I will remember and cherish them all of my life. Kyle, my amazing partner, is right behind me still pushing on my sacrum with all his might.

Terrie says "OK. Now I want you to feel where he is."

I felt and he was, "Right there." I could feel his head just barely inside.

She looked at her phone and said "6:15. What time are your kids supposed to be home?"

I answer "Seven."

To which she replies "They might come while we are in the throws of this. Maybe we should call and let someone know."

I say, "NO! I am having this baby right now. We are not calling anyone!"

Then the contraction hits. And I push with my body. Kyle is right behind me and can see him coming.

He says, "He's coming Terrie. What do I do? Terrie, Terrie! He's coming.What do we do?" He isn't worried or afraid but wants to make sure all is well.  

She replies "Let him come!" Then I tell them I need someone to put their hand down there to hold his head.

She sweetly says, "You put your hand there."

It was like it hadn't even occurred to me that I could do it myself. I held my left hand on his head, as it started to stretch me open, and gripped the sheets for dear life with my right.  I yell about pushing and Terrie tries to remind me not to push too hard, because I don't want to tear, and I yell "I HAVE TO!" Then the burn, oh the burn. Serious ring of fire, but only for a split second. Then his whole body slid right out. "Like a bar of soap" one of my friends said when I told her the story, and that is a perfect description. I leaned back on my feet and Terrie helped me scoop him up in my arms. I held him tightly against my chest as if someone might take him from me.

I couldn't believe he was here. I spent some time just taking it all in. I had actually given birth to my baby. The rush of emotions made me shake. Pure elation! Indescribable joy! Wonder! Astonishment! Even shock! "I JUST HAD A BABY!" My baby was absolutely the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. He was perfect. With a fabulous, lusty cry. He was covered in smooth,white vernix. Soft, sweet, ooey, gooey vernix.

As soon as our baby was out, Kyle jumped up to grab the camera and caught it all in pictures and video. I will forever be grateful for him doing that. Being able to relive it over and over has been the greatest gift. I have no pictures of my other childrens' first moments earthside. No recordings of their first cries, because cameras are not allowed in the operating room. And because of amnesic drugs, I do not even have a memory of seeing my daughter for the first time. This was all so different, so extraordinary, so amazing. After a minute or two, Terrie had me get up on my bed. My son, Declan, was still attached to his pulsing umbilical cord.

 

He was perfectly pink and crying. Oh, what a beautiful sound. He latched on and started breastfeeding right away. Oh, to have him skin to skin and nursing within minutes was so magnificent. After the umbilical cord stopped pulsing, Terrie clamped it and Kyle cut it. For the first time in four children, he finally got to cut the cord. Even such a small thing like this, gave me so much happiness.

Not too much longer after that I birthed the placenta. Terrie told me to look at my baby, to distract me, then give a little push. It came out so easily. It didn’t hurt at all. After a baby it felt like nothing. I remarked later it felt like pushing out a steak, silly but true. After a while she weighed him and checked him over. He was 8 pounds 8 ounces. My biggest baby by two ounces. One pound seven ounces more than my daughter whom I tried to push out for 6 hours. Following my instincts and not letting others tell me when or how to push made it happen.

Then we just cuddled, skin to skin. He ate. I cried, and thanked my Father in heaven, and smiled the biggest smile I have ever smiled. It was truly a miracle. 

About an hour after he was born my other children came home. It was perfect. They got to meet their sweet, new, little brother in our home so soon after he was born. What an awesome blessing! 

My family was changed by this incredible journey. Mostly because it changed me. It was the hardest thing I have ever endured.  Then, after the grueling intensity of labor, I was lifted to the highest high I have felt in this lifetime, as I held my baby, fresh from heaven, against my breast.  I am not the same person I was. How could I be? I am more confident. I am happier. I am a better mother, wife, and dare I say, a better woman. Birth matters! Mothers matter! Women matter!

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My Journey to HBA3C - Part 2.5

The reader responses to my friend Melissa's first two posts, My Journey to Home Birth After 3 Cesareans - Part 1 and My Journey to HBA3C - Part 2, were phenomenal.  She is still working on writing out Part 3, the birth of her fourth child; however, she has made a beautiful video sharing some of her amazing story.

Enjoy... and make sure you have plenty of Kleenex handy!

Love,
Michelle

Rhett's Birth Story: As Written by Mommy

The following story from a dear friend of mine and is written to her son, Rhett.  Thank you, Tara, for sharing! 

I was super busy during the beginning of September. Your Daddy was in the field, working very, very hard to finish harvest before you came along. We would both talk to you at night time and ask you to please wait until Daddy was done. I am so thankful, for so many different reasons, that you listened.

I was trying to get my 2 businesses to a good spot where I would be able to leave them for a few months. So I was working really hard during the day and at night. Poor Aubrey! She spent a lot of time with Grandma Carla and Randi those first 2 weeks of Sept. I felt like I was constantly on the go and getting nothing actually accomplished. Truthfully, I would have been quite ok if you went over your due date. I actually hoped you would be.

35 weeks pregnant

We still hadn't had any work done on the basement, but knew that we wouldn't be able to leave the office upstairs much longer. I asked Gramma Cheryl and Papa Gary to come help me the middle of Sept with painting and moving; I wanted you to have a room just for yourself.

The 14 and 15 I was in Medicine Hat and then Lethbridge. I had an appointment at the Mat Clinic and met with Michelle one last time. She was just coming off of 2 births within 3 days and was super tired, but she still managed to converse coherently, and tell me I still didn't look pregnant (this was at almost 39 weeks).  I mentioned I was feeling some tightening in my lower stomach a little bit, something I hadn't felt with Aubrey’s pregnancy and Michelle thought it was likely Braxton Hicks. For Lethbridge I was a little nervous to go by myself, but decided that if I didn't feel ok I could head home. I booked a wax and hair appointment, and ended up being able to fit a pedicure in (nice nails are a MUST while giving birth). I also had a meeting to attend, and I did end up leaving early, but that was because I needed to pick up paint for your room for the weekend. Your Daddy also finished harvesting the night of the 15^th! We were so excited to celebrate the end of the crop season!

On the 16 (Friday) Aubrey and I had planned to go visit a friend with another friend of mine and her  girls. She sent me a text saying that her girls had a runny nose and did I still want to go? I was feeling a bit off, as well, so I decided to stay at home. I made myself a chai latte and called your dad. I think that I maybe knew something was going to happen. We talked about how it was the first day during the whole pregnancy that I actually felt pregnant. (I think you had maybe dropped that night and were putting a bit more pressure on my lower back). As I sipped my drink I could only think that this would be the last time I’d be able to have a quiet morning for a while. I got a lot of cleaning done that day and made a delicious homemade pizza for supper to celebrate the end of harvest. And then I tackled the office. (I look back now and wonder WHY I left it so late.) I chatted with Gramma Cheryl, they were scheduled to come down the next morning, and at about 7 or so I called her again and asked her to make sure that she packed for a week, just in case; I was having some light contractions. At this point the office was packed up and I had left instructions on where to put things.

Your Daddy came in during one contraction and decided we should start timing them. At 9:30 I called Michelle to tell her I was definitely starting in labour, as I would have to stop every time one came and breathe through it. We decided that it wouldn't be a bad thing to head into Medicine Hat, and that we could assess there with Michelle, and then decide what to do. With Aubrey being a c-section, and my labour with her being only 3 hours, we had no idea what to expect with your birth. We packed Aubrey up, called Grandma and Papa to make sure they could take her, and dropped her off. I continued to time all the way to the Hat. We decided to go to a hotel at the south of the city. We checked in (received a really nice, big suite) and waited for Michelle. Around midnight we thought it best to just get some rest and call her in the morning after we woke up and she would come over. I slept for a bit, and the contractions slowed down, but was up at 7 when they started to pick up a bit more. When Colin got up we went down to get some food and then called both sets of grandparents. Aubrey was doing well, and my mom and dad were on their way down. We told them we wouldn't be there when they arrived, but to call Colin’s parents and they could pick up Aubrey for the day.

Michelle came back and we settled in for what ended up being a long day. The contractions stayed very consistent, and I kept moving around, hoping to get them picked up a bit. We went for a walk around the building where 2 firemen came out to see if we needed any assistance. In the early afternoon they became a bit more intense and I found that I like having someone talking to me in a low voice to relax and breathe. I would go into a state of concentration when this happened and Michelle or Colin would repeat positive Hypnobirthing affirmations to me. I found I was able to relax better. Once they finished, we talked and kept the mood very light.

Around 4:30 I decided I wanted to go to the hospital to get checked out and see where things were. As it turned out, it was a premature visit and I hadn't needed to. We arrived there and by that time the contractions had slowed down considerably. I got hooked up to the monitors, and by then they had pretty much stopped. The nurse wanted to send me for some blood work, seeing as my blood pressure was up and there was some concern from Aubrey’s pregnancy. So we waited around and I decided that I was tired of walking and didn't want to anymore. When we got sent “home” at 8:30, we dropped Michelle off then grabbed some food and I fell asleep fairly early. (I found out later that your Daddy didn't).

Around 1 am I woke up and started timing again. About every 10 minutes. So I went to have a bath as I couldn't get back to sleep. I took my Hypnobirthing relaxation sound track with me and just had it on repeat as I laid there in the nice warm water, feeling weightless. It was such a nice feeling as I talked to you, relaxed and sent love your way. I told you how much I loved you and how excited I was getting to meet you. It was an amazing feeling to know that I would soon be holding you in my arms, kissing you and wrapping you with my love.

About 3:20 your Daddy came to see where I was. He was pretty sleepy. I decided to get out of the bath, and when I stood up I ended up losing my mucus plug. Once that happened, the contractions became even stronger in intensity and I had to really concentrate on breathing and relaxing into them. I had him put counter pressure on my lower back as well. He was so sleepy that he would go to bed for the few minutes between, then I would call him for pressure. I decided to call Michelle and let her know that things were picking up and asked if she would be able to head over as soon as she could. I went inside myself at this point, the only thing I was concentrating on was breathing through each contraction. All the sudden I started to feel a lot of pressure, which was eerily similar to the feeling I had when I was in labour with Aubrey. In that moment, I told Colin that we needed to get to the hospital. He wanted to know how long he had. I told him NOW. I was so ready to go in, and I knew it. He was able to get me down to the vehicle; we were unfortunately on the 2^nd floor and I was in my own world. It felt like it took forever to walk to the car. I leaned on him the whole time, trusting him with us, knowing we would get there safely. I called Michelle again and told her to meet us at the hospital.

The drive from the hotel to the hospital is roughly 8 minutes during the day. At about 4 am with no traffic and me telling your Daddy to drive faster I think we made it in about 4 minutes. I couldn't sit comfortably, so I leaned over the front seat, hoping we didn't get pulled over. I called Michelle on the way and told her to meet us at the hospital. We drove into the Emergency entrance and I had to time getting to the doors between contractions. I remember the look on a man’s face who was standing inside as he saw me come up to the doors. Needless to say we didn't have to check in there, but headed quickly up to the L&D area.

When we got to L&D I quickly explained to the nurse there that I needed to be checked immediately and how I thought that maybe you were breech like Aubrey had been, which is what the pressure reminded me of. They got me into the bed and checked just as Michelle arrived. I was excited to learn that you were head down (YAY!) and that I was about 8 cm…. very close to start pushing; which was also the reason why I had felt so much pressure. Michelle stayed with me until your Daddy got back from moving the vehicle. Michelle and the nurse started to move me into the wheelchair to take me to the delivery room from the assessment room, but I couldn't sit. So I walked. Now, this was the longest, hardest walk ever. I had Michelle on one side and your Daddy on the other, and they held me up, carrying me (of course we had to be in the room the furthest away). I met the doctor who would deliver you, Dr. Prince, on the way to the delivery room. He asked how I was doing. I believe I answered with “why the hell did I think a VBAC was a good idea?” And I`m pretty sure he laughed. We got into the room and I got settled on the bed. My energy was starting to wane and I was starting to feel like I needed to push, which I told Michelle and our nurse. She checked again and told me I was able to. In a matter of 10 minutes I had gone from 8 to 10 cm’s. And so I started what turned out to be a very long time of pushing. In that first push my water broke…. which was an odd experience for me as there was no gush like there had been with Aubrey: it was a slow, constant leaking.

I took a while getting into the rhythm of birthing you. At this point, I have a very skewed sense of time that even now is still off. It felt like only a short time, but I knew it wasn't  I was in myself, talking to you in my head and out loud. I would constantly repeat “I want him out” and there were a few moments when, in my very exhausted state, I said “I can’t do this” after a contraction and pushing. Michelle and your Daddy told me “You CAN do this”. After hearing the positive affirmations I then continued to repeat “I can do this” over and over again. At 7 the nurses changed, and we were lucky enough to get Cherry! She was so amazing! For the most part I birthed you squatting on the bed, so I would hold your Daddy’s hand in my left and Michelle’s in my right. When Cherry first started with me she held my hand and just talked to me in the softest, kindest English accent. Michelle was excited to work with her, and we soon found out why. (Even your Daddy felt her effects too). When I would look at her I just felt calm flooding through me.

Around 8 am Dr. Prince came in to talk to me. I had been pushing for a long time at this point, and he wanted to let me know that he was concerned by how long it was taking, especially since I’d had a previous caesarean. He wanted me to get you out before they started to get worried about you being in distress (though you weren't  and there being a necessity for another caesarean. I was so adamant that I was having a VBAC that I refused to listen to that (especially after all the work I had done- you have a very stubborn mother). He also wanted to tell me that there had been meconium in the water when it broke and that they were worried you may have inhaled some of it, so they were going to have NICU come in to assess you after you were born.

Mommy and Rhett moments after birth.

I concentrated so hard on birthing you. I couldn't understand what was taking so long and why you weren't coming out easily (turns out your head was turned a bit funny). Cherry finally recommended that I get some help in birthing you. Just a little incision and then you would be out. I didn't want to at first, but I knew that I was getting so exhausted and to a point where my exhaustion wouldn't allow me to push much longer. So I agreed. From there I moved onto my back and they got ready to make the incision. The room was full with people, NICU staff, nurses and 2 doctors, and yet it was so quiet and calm. I really didn't notice them at all. They were so respectful of my space and my birthing. It seemed to take a while to set up, but as soon as it was made, with the next push I could feel that it was what I and you needed to be born. I felt your head, and was told to wait for the next contraction, and then the rest of your body came out. At 8:57 am on September 18, 2011, you made your way into the world for your birth day.

Even now, more than 5 months later, I remember that moment clearly. You were born onto my tummy, all purple and covered in stuff. And your Daddy and I just stared at you, taking you in, falling unconditionally in love with you. I looked at him and at you and said “we did it” and started crying. That was the most empowering moment of my life. Dr. Prince asked if Daddy wanted to cut the cord. He said no, I asked if he was sure. He said no again. Then NICU took you over to the cart and cleared out your lungs, gave you a quick check and cleaned you off a bit.  I could hear your sweet, soft cries and I longed to hold you and reassure you that I was here. At this point Dr. Prince and the nurses started to get me cleaned up and warm as I was shaking. They put blankets over me and then you got to snuggle right on me. You settled almost immediately, and we talked to you, looked at you, kissed you, loved you. My little baby boy! I was already so deeply in love with you. I said to your Daddy, “look at him, he looks like Aubrey” and the nurses commented on you looking like your Daddy, with the same amount of hair. We took some pictures and Daddy sent them to your Grandparents and Aunt and Uncles to let them know the good news! You also were weighed (6 lbs  10 oz) and measured (18.9`).

I wanted to start feeding you right away, but Michelle told me to wait until you started to root. I believe you fell asleep. We decided to call you Rhett Arthur. We wanted to have a name before Aubrey saw you. Daddy decided to quickly get us checked out of the hotel and pick up our bags. I was so involved in watching you that I didn't mind at all. Michelle stayed while he was gone and we talked. I was on the most amazing adrenaline rush and where I had been so sleepy even 30 minutes before, I wasn't any more. You finally started to root and I stuck you on and you started sucking. You were a natural! I couldn't believe how you knew exactly what to do, and had no issues what so ever. You ate for a bit and then fell asleep tucked up on my left shoulder, cozy and warm. I loved feeling you snuggled against me. You slept for a while, and we didn't want to wake you up, so the nurses delayed your Vitamin K shot and eye drops. Your Daddy came back and Michelle left, and then Cherry came back to get me cleaned up and ready to go to the Maternal/Child area.

Rhett Arthur

I felt so good after having you that I even walked the whole way there. She got us settled and then Daddy and I talked and held you until everyone started arriving to meet you. We wanted Aubrey to meet you first, and hear your name first before we told anyone else. Gramma Cheryl and Papa Gary were first to arrive with Aubrey. She was a little scared of me, in the hospital bed and gown, and so she just wanted Daddy. She started to warm a bit, and when we let her hold you, she noticed a bit of blood still on your head and said `he has bird poop on his head`. Needless to say that gave us all a good laugh!

Then your other Grandma and Papa came. I had decided to go for a quick walk to see where your Daddy was (he was having a rest on the couches) and they were both really surprised to see me up and walking around. (I think they had remembered how I had been with Aubrey- heavily drugged). Your Uncle Kyle and Karmyn came and then Uncle Ryan. Cindy, Josh and Chloe Hume also stopped in to visit as well. Later on that afternoon your Auntie Linz arrived with your Nono and Sue. They had come at a really good time as they were able to have you all to themselves. You were so sleepy that day, but good for new baby snuggles. They even tried changing you into some clothes that they had brought for you.

Our first night was unlike any that you have ever had being at home. Maybe you were a little mixed up on your days and nights, or didn't like being in the hospital, but you seemed to want to be up during the night the 2 nights we were there. I was worried that you would maybe continue that when we got home, but I really needn`t have worried as you are an awesome baby! My adrenaline had started to wear off that evening, so I was getting pretty tired and wanting some rest. I finally just propped you up in my arm while I dozed that night. I think the nurses came in and moved you when they came to check as you were in the bassinet when I woke up. 

We stayed in the hospital for Sept 19 as well. Daddy brought Aubrey with him that day, and Gramma Cheryl took her back to our house with her as she was staying for the week. It was so nice to know that Aubrey would get the attention she deserved while Daddy and I got to know you those first few days. Karmyn, Grandma Carla and Michelle also came to visit that day and Daddy went to get you a crib. You and I relaxed and cuddled a lot your second day with us. We were able to go home on the 20^th, also Grandma Carla`s birthday! Daddy came to pick you and I up, we got you in your car seat (which you weren't real happy about) and then we went to Wal-Mart to pick up more diapers, Canadian Tire to get Aubrey a big sister gift, and then decided to stop for lunch at Moxie`s before heading to your home; you slept the whole time.

Birthing Henry

We're so excited to begin sharing some of the birth stories of our followers.  This first story is one of two from a fierce mama!  Thank you, Rachel, for sharing your precious memories with us!


Wednesday April 27th, 2011

Expecting Henry

I had my cervix rimmed this morning. I spend the day running errands and every time I was sitting in the car I would have some contractions, but when I got home they stopped. I wanted to clean the house, but I wanted to wait until John was home in case it sped things up in the labour department. It did. And I didn't get very much cleaning done at all.

8:00 pm: I started to have contractions again, but more consistently.

10:00 pm: We decided to go to bed, in case this was the real deal.

10:45 pm: It was pretty obvious that I wasn't going to get any sleep. We decided to start timing my contractions. The weird thing was that all my contractions were back contractions...which are just lower back pain that comes and goes. I wasn't expecting that. My contractions were about 8 and a half minutes apart, lasting about 2 minutes each. They were bearable but very uncomfortable

11:00 pm: I got in the bath to ease my contractions. John shaved and had a shower in the guest room (A few months ago I requested that John be clean shaven for the birth. I didn't want him looking like a hobo and I was so glad he agreed!)

12:30 pm: My contractions were now about 5.5 minutes apart and getting stronger. My doctor told me to come to the hospital when my contractions were 5 minutes apart. We decided to just go since we live about 45 minutes from the hospital. I showered, blow dried my hair and got ready to go. I remember telling John that I couldn't believe I wanted a natural labour because there was NO way I could do it if this was only the beginning. In the car I threw up SO many times. Luckily we had a reusable grocery bag in there (we threw it out after).

1:30 am: We arrived at the hospital. Laboring in the car was horrible. It wasn't busy at all in the Labour and Delivery Ward. They took us into triage and I changed into a hospital gown. I was in SO much pain at this point, but since it was back pain I'm pretty sure no one there believed me. The nurse left me to labour laying on the bed, which is not ideal at all. John rubbed my back the entire time because it was the only thing that made me feel a bit better.

2:30 am: They checked me and told me that I wasn't dilated AT ALL. I have trouble believing this, since in order to have my cervix rimmed as was done the previous morning, I needed to be dilated at least 1 cm. The nurse gave me a birth ball and left me to labour again for 2 hours. John continued to rub my back. I threw up many more times. I can't believe how much I threw up in total.

4:30 am: A doctor from my clinic came to check me. He said I was only dilated 2 cm. I don't know but 2 cm in 2 hours seems right on track. However, he told me I was progressing too slowly and that we should go home and GET SOME SLEEP. Because I bet all laboring ladies get a good nights sleep right in the middle of labour. We told him we lived out of town, but he was sure that going home was the best idea for us. We were not happy at all.

5:00 am: We arrived home. I forced John to get into bed and take a nap. I decided to have another bath, since laying down was the worse position for me. I slept in between my contractions but stayed in the bath until 8:00am. When I had a contraction, I would vocalize my way through it. Apparently I was really loud and my brother (who came over to watch our dog) was up all night in the guest room. John however slept right through it.

8:00 am-9:00 am: I got out of the bath and tried some other positions. They didn't work at all and I soon missed the bath. I woke John up vocalizing my way through the contractions on the floor beside the bed. This entire time I had been timing my contractions on John's iPhone and when he got up and looked at them, he was shocked to see that they were 2.5 minutes apart. I had no idea how far apart they were until he told me. I decided to get back into the bath. Since my clinic was now open John called them and asked what to do since we didn't want to be sent home from the hospital again. They told him that first babies are slow and we should probably wait it out at home. When John told me that, I made him call them back because I felt like I was dying. I couldn't last much longer. I think I actually said I wanted them to cut the baby out of me because I couldn't do this anymore. The pain was crazy! The nurse asked to speak with me and when she realized how much pain I was in, she told us to go back to the hospital.

9:30 am: John snapped into action to get us back to the hospital. I however did not want to get out of the bath. While John was trying to get me out of the bath, my water broke. At the time I didn't know it was my water breaking, I just knew something was happening. John had to basically dress me since I couldn't really function at all. Then, I felt the urge to push. What an odd feeling. Your body just pushes and you can't really stop it.

10:00 am: Before I know it John has loaded me into the car and off we go, in a BLIZZARD to the hospital. I was scared that I was going to have the baby in the car. There was so much traffic because of the weather. It felt like we would never get there. The entire time I was chanting "don't push, don't push don't push!"

11:00 am: We arrived at the hospital and there was a traffic jam. We couldn't get to a parking lot, we couldn't even get to the main entrance. John finally just drove into the Ambulance bay and parked. He grabbed me and we ran into the hospital. I didn't want a wheel chair because sitting was impossible. We needed to get to the 5th floor and there was a line for the elevators. A LINE. Luckily a lady at the front saw how much pain I was in and let us go in first.

We get onto the floor and I needed to lean against the wall and breath through a contraction. John went up to the desk to tell the nurses about me, and then he had to go back and move his truck. A nurse came and took me into triage. I was panicking. I told her I was Strep B positive and had the urge to push but I hadn't had any antibiotics yet! She tried to get me into a hospital  gown but the effort to change into one was too much. She got me onto the bed and I took my PJ pants off and almost immediately she told me I was 10 cm and +2 station and yelled for someone to get me some penicillin (for the group B strep, you're supposed to get 2 doses, the first 4 hours before delivery). But I'm allergic to penicillin so I started freaking out about that. All the while they are wheeling me into a delivery room. Before I know it I'm on a new bed, no pants on, still with my PJ shirt on, they are yelling about antibiotics and trying to get an IV in me. John was still moving the truck and I was worried he was going to miss the entire thing! But he showed up pretty quickly after.

Hello Henry!

He walks in and see my legs up and he almost passes out. He gets to the stool beside my bed and keeps it together. Pushing was so great. After not pushing for 1 hour, it felt so good to push. With each push I tried to push gently, so I wouldn't tear. John thought they had given me an epidural because I was so peaceful. I fell asleep between each contraction. I pushed gently for 45 minutes. Henry was born at 11:48am. The cord was wrapped around his neck and he had a bowel movement while I pushed him out. Just to be safe they rushed him to the warmer and suctioned him out. Then he finally cried. I made John go over and watch as they examined him. He was perfectly healthy!

Brand new Henry!

Reflective Practice & The Story of My Daughter's Birth

Dear Readers,

When I certified as a birth doula, I was asked to write a reflective essay on the birth of one of my children.  This is the story of the birth of my first child, my beautiful daughter Sydne, who is the inspiration for my work with families.  You will notice the titles preceding each paragraph.  These are the framework for reflective practice which can be helpful when trying to work through a difficult life experience.  (Please ask me about reflective practice at our prenatals!) This story is raw and emotional.  I hope sharing it will help other mothers to better reflect on their experiences from birth through all aspects of motherhood.  

XOXO
Michelle

My Inspiration: The Birth of My Beautiful Daughter

Description

I am a mother of two children. This is the story of my first child’s birth. Shortly after becoming pregnant, my husband and I moved to a larger centre. I found a family physician; a general practitioner who also delivered babies. I remember telling her at one of my prenatal appointments, “I don't want to be a hero. Sign me up for an epidural.” My doctor was supportive and made the note in my chart. I also included it in my simple, one-page birth plan. We also discussed breastfeeding as I planned to nurse my baby.  I did not want a cesarean or instrumental birth.  I wanted to be comfortable and enjoy the birth experience.  These items were also noted in my birth plan.  My wish at the time was for a beautiful comfortable birth experience with the active support of my husband and mother.

My daughter was born on Saturday, May 10, 2003, ten days after my due date of May 1^st and after a fourteen hour labor. My mother had arrived from out of the country a week earlier. We walked through several malls, went bowling and I waddled up and down the stairs in our home as much as possible. My doctor stripped my membranes twice and I begged for her to induce me. The night before I was scheduled to be induced, I went into labour on my own.

During one of many nightly trips to the bathroom, I noticed goop on the pad in my underwear. It wasn't my mucus plug as I had lost it a week before and this wasn't pink.  It was a very pale clear yet cloudy grey-green. I called the local 24-hour nurse line. They said it was probably nothing. When I felt a little mini-gush, I knew it was my water leaking at this point. It was around 2:30 AM when I woke first my mother and then, my husband, Mike, and we headed to the hospital.

My contractions started on the way to the hospital, which was 10-15 minutes from our home. They were centered in my lower back. At the hospital, I changed into the hospital gown, peed in a cup, left my pad on a paper towel in the bathroom (per the nurse’s instructions) and was told to lie in the bed in the assessment room. The fetal monitor was strapped around my belly and I lay in a semi-reclined position. I had only been in the bed a few minutes it seemed, when my water broke with a gush. A nurse or doctor confirmed that there was meconium in the water.

They moved me into a labour and delivery room. The contractions were now coming one on top of the other and I had a lot of back labour. I was lying on my left-side and was nauseated. I had been in the hospital for around an hour and was four centimeters dilated. A nurse asked me if I wanted a shot in the hip or the epidural.  I replied that I was ready for the epidural.

According to the staff, the epidural had slowed my labour. So, I was started on IV pitocin to increase the contractions. With each increase made to the dosage of the artificial hormone, the epidural lost some of its numbing effect, so an increase was made to its strength as well. This up and down dance kept up throughout the day.

At some point in the afternoon, I had two young nurses taking care of me. One of the nurses was a student. They checked me and found me to be fully dilated. So, without feeling much of an urge, I started pushing. I pushed for almost four hours and moved the baby down, but my progress had stalled and my doctor arrived. She checked me and basically poked the baby in the eye, finding that she was occiput posterior.

Because I had moved the baby down so far in the birth canal, a cesarean, which my doctor later informed me she would have called for otherwise, was out of the question. So, she called for the obstetrician on-call to come in and assist with the delivery.

The OB mentioned that they would have to try using the vacuum to help the baby out. They tried. It didn't work. So, the doctor brought out the forceps. Finally after an episiotomy and a fourth degree perineal tear, the baby was out. The doctor held her upside down and Mike announced that she was a girl. We cried.

Our daughter, Sydne Mikaela, was whisked over to the other side of the room so the nurses and doctors from the neonatal intensive care unit could give her the once over. They had been called in due to the meconium in the amniotic fluid.

While Sydne was examined, I delivered the placenta. Then, OB oversaw as my doctor stitched up my large tear, which was both interior and through my perineum to the sphincter. I was in a haze.

When I finally held my new baby daughter, I noticed what appeared to be a large blood blister on her forehead. Her face was bruised from the forceps and vacuum and her nose squished from being stuck under my pubic bone. We were moved to the postpartum floor and I tried to breastfeed her, but we were not successful.

That night, the nurses took Sydne to the nursery so I could rest. They fed her bottles of formula.

We continued trying to breastfeed throughout our stay in the hospital. Each time I tried to feed Sydne, the nurses would try to help, but usually ended up shoving her roughly onto my breast. Sydne screamed and pulled away each time. Each nurse had a different idea about why she wouldn't latch on. They said perhaps she was tongue-tied or she couldn't breathe because her nose was squished, or maybe because her chin was recessed. I yelled at the lactation consultant and told her to leave me alone. Finally, my doctor told me just to tell the nurses that I was going to formula feed so they’d release me from the hospital.

The Monday evening after Sydne was born, we went home. I continued trying to breastfeed, but pumped and supplemented with formula as she still refused to take the breast. I cried and she cried at each attempt. The health nurse visited the day following our release from the hospital and I continued to have a nurse visit each day throughout the week, still trying to establish breastfeeding. The day my mother was to return home, I began crying constantly. Then, on my way to the bathroom, I lost control of my bowels.

I saw my doctor a week after Sydne was born to see if she could increase the dosage of the medication I was already taking for depression. At the visit, she suggested we fully make the switch to formula. I agreed. 

Feelings

In the days leading up to my Sydne’s birth, I really felt as though I would be pregnant forever.  Because my mom had come up from another country for the birth and was only scheduled to stay with us for two weeks, I was concerned that I wouldn’t have the baby while she was still there or early enough for her to spend sufficient time with all of us.  I was so relieved when the hospital called with our induction time.  I actually slept well that night, for the first time in weeks.

While I was very excited about my child’s arrival, I felt very overwhelmed and afraid during her birth.  Just before the epidural was administered, I felt so nauseated.  I was afraid and embarrassed that I may vomit.  I really didn’t want anyone to see me throwing up.  I felt very weak.  I thought I appeared weak to others.  I was young as well, at nearly twenty-four.  I did not feel confident to question the hospital staff.

My mother didn’t say much during the actual birth.  I remember her trying to talk to me when I was experiencing the back labour and nausea.  She was trying to get me to look into her eyes.  As a child, when I would bump my knee or fall, I would cry as though it were the end of the world.  My mother would often say, “They’re going to have to knock you out when you give birth.”  I believed her.  If my own mother said that about me, I felt it had to be true.  I didn’t want to disappoint my mother by showing any fear or by being a “baby” about the pain.  All I felt at the time was the fear that I would let her down and that I wasn’t strong enough.  I wish she had spoken to me more during the birth.  Her appearance was stoic; but, perhaps she was afraid for me.  I can only imagine how I’ll feel when it is Sydne’s turn to become a mother.  Maybe, beneath her strong exterior, there was a tender heart only wishing to spare me pain.

I didn’t want my husband to worry about me.  I don’t remember him being very involved in the birth.  I don’t remember what he said to me or really how he felt.  There was concern in his eyes, but he didn’t really say much of anything, which worried me and made it very difficult for me to feel supported.  He slept after I got the epidural.  I was angry that he wasn’t awake with me.  I wish he had encouraged me more or had perhaps been more involved in researching our options during our pregnancy in order to prepare for the birth. I wish he had protected me.

After Sydne was born, I was in a total haze.  I don’t remember pushing her out.  I didn’t have a feeling of one being becoming two separate individuals.  It wasn’t a spiritual experience as I had hoped it would be.  I just remember feeling like I wasn’t entirely in my body. I wasn’t physically or mentally present.  It was as though I was a hollow vessel and things were being done to me.  I was simply an observer, but not even one that was entirely focused.  It was as though I was watching a movie in a crowded noisy theatre.  I couldn’t pay attention completely, though I knew there was action taking place. 

Not being able to breastfeed my Sydne broke my heart.  I was frustrated that I could not do it myself.  I was angry that she had been hurt by the mechanisms to remove her from my body.  I was angry at the nurses for not noticing she was in an odd position.  I was angry at myself for asking for the epidural, because maybe I could have prevented her getting hurt by the vacuum and forceps. I wish I had learned more about breastfeeding in the early stages after birth. I was angry at my daughter because she wouldn’t take my breast.  Why wouldn’t she take my breast?!

When we arrived home from the hospital, I was in so much pain.  My heart was broken and I had little connection to my daughter.  Every time I tried to feed her at my breast she cried and then I cried.  I planned in my mind to have my husband care for her.  I didn’t feel that she needed me anymore.  The pain of not being able to provide her with the one necessity I should have been able to tore at my heart.  My body also felt ripped apart.  When I lost control of my bowels that was my breaking point.  Here I had just given birth to a helpless baby and I was the one who needed the diaper.  I was helpless, too, and hopeless.

I was relieved when my doctor increased my medication.  I was relieved, too, when she suggested formula feeding.  I couldn’t bring myself to keep trying to breastfeed when, I felt, my daughter was rejecting me.  I also felt like a failure.  I couldn’t fulfill my daughter’s most basic need.  I felt incredibly guilty that I did not breastfeed her.  I knew that my breast milk was made for her and that nothing else would provide the perfect amount of nutrition or immune support.  Every time I prepared a bottle of formula, I felt guilty.  Every time I saw another mother breastfeeding, I felt jealous.  I felt as though I was being judged by breastfeeding mothers for feeding my child an artificial substitute.

Actions

I had planned for an epidural and I received one.  I had planned to breastfeed, yet I did not succeed.  It is clear to me now that the choice to receive an epidural impacted my breastfeeding experience.  If I been able to express the type of pain I was experiencing, perhaps the nursing staff would have recognized that Sydne was occiput posterior earlier and suggested a change of position.  I would not have been confined to the bed, so I would have been able to try other things to help her to turn. 

The offer was made to have an injection of morphine.  Had I tried this at that early point in labor, I may have received the relief I was longing for while also giving my body time to metabolize the medication so that I would still have sensation during the second stage.  Also, the epidural had “slowed” my labor.  If I had chosen another pain relief option or no pharmaceuticals at all, I may have had a shorter labor.

The epidural also may have compromised Sydne’s awareness.  Had she been more alert following her birth, perhaps she would have had more of an urge to feed, thus giving us both more motivation to breastfeed.  She also may not have had to have an instrumental delivery and, therefore, would not have had the birth injuries that she experienced.  I also did not know at the time that there were alternatives to bottle feeding.  I could have used finger feeding, cup feeding or tried a supplemental nursing system.  None of these items were offered; but, I also did not ask.

Birthing in this particular hospital was also another choice that I did not realize I had control over.  I knew that there were midwives in our area at that time, however, I was not comfortable with having a homebirth and also, because midwives were not covered by our provincial insurance plan at the time, I did not think I could afford one.  There was a pilot program operating out of a hospital about a half an hour outside of our city with both midwives and doctors on staff, but I was not aware of it at the time.  Perhaps had I known, I could have given birth in a place that gave me the comfort of knowing technology was near if I needed it, but also would have given me more freedom to choose natural alternatives to medical interventions.

The main reason I had chosen my doctor was that she was a woman.  She made me feel quite comfortable in all of our appointments and truly did take time to listen to me; however, her practice was quite busy and she was new to the profession.  Perhaps this may have led her to initially lean more toward the managed style of birthing.  In retrospect, I also must note that I did not really keep an open mind toward everything in my visits with her.  I did not, for example, ask for any information on the risks of epidural anesthesia, nor did I request any information on breastfeeding and breastfeeding support. I could have taken a more active role in my care.

All of the choices I made were motivated out of fear.  I was afraid I couldn’t manage without the epidural.  I was afraid to vomit in front of my family and the hospital staff.  I was afraid that I would not be taken seriously by the staff.  I was afraid that I did not know enough to ask the proper questions of staff and that I didn’t really deserve to have the answers.

Learning

As I look back upon the events surrounding Sydne’s birth, I am filled with gratitude.  While much of the experience was truly painful, without it I would not have found a passion for birth and for helping other women and their families.  As much as it hurt, I have been able to learn from the mistakes I made during that period. 

I have learned that I am responsible for my own feelings.  Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”  While my mother may have relayed her perceptions about my tolerance for pain or my strength, it was I who chose to accept those words as fact.  She could not make me weak, nor could she make me strong.  In repeating her words in my own inner dialog, I had already written the story of my birth experience before it had even begun.  I expected to fail in fulfilling my own perceptions of what a strong birthing woman would or could be, therefore I planned to fail. 

I also realize that I have put a great deal of stock in what others think of me.  I worry about their perceptions of me as an individual.  I often try to please others rather than think of how my decisions affect my life.  As an adult, I place much importance on pleasing my parents and making them proud of me.  I know I need to be proud of myself and concern myself more with the future I have with my husband and children.

I know I must be my own advocate.  I had the opportunity to learn more about my options and make informed decisions, but I allowed myself and my fears keep me from doing so.  The more I learn the greater power I have over my own life. The answers are there for me to find, I only need to look.  Not knowing is not an excuse.  I have found my voice and I must use it. 

I believe that I have a unique role in teaching Sydne about birth and building up her self-esteem.  While I chose to take on my mother’s perceptions as my own in a negative fashion, I also realize that the messages we and others send us have a lasting impact on our lives.  I want to send my daughter positive messages about her body and her capability to birth and mother.  She does not have to repeat my mistakes.  I know she may make her own, but I want her to know that I believe she has the power to accomplish anything she sets her mind to.

Guilt serves no purpose.  It was a waste of my time and energy.  While I did not plan to feed my daughter formula, I did the best that I could under the circumstances.  She was healthy and happy.  I was able to get the help I needed for my mental health without worrying about the substances going through my milk and into my baby’s sensitive system.  I would have loved to have had more support to breastfeed, but I believe that being unable to at the time helped me to value nursing even more.  It has also made me much more understanding when I hear or see another mother’s struggles.

Finally, I have learned that while I may be fearful, I can feel it without letting it take over my decision making.  I cannot and will not give up my power simply because I may not know what lies ahead.  I had been allowing myself to exist, without truly living and allowing myself to use fear as an excuse to keep me from making decisions that may have been in my best interest. I have never been a risk taker.  I do not want to miss out on life anymore.

Application

Reflection has helped me to deal with the negative feelings I have had pertaining to my first birth experience and how such similar feelings and thought processes have been a part of my entire life.  I have also begun to feel empowered to really take control of the decisions I make in my life.  By realizing that my decisions are my own, I see that being fearful would mean not trusting myself. 

I have been able to turn my birth experience into a positive motivator, rather than a negative memory.  I have overcome the challenges of learning to bond after a difficult birth.  I gained the desire to help others learn more about how to have healthier happier births.  I have a renewed passion for breastfeeding.  I know that just because I did not have the ideal experience the first time around, it does not mean that I have not gained valuable knowledge.  I’ve learned to trust my instincts and believe in myself and my abilities.

As a birth professional, I realize I have a unique privilege of helping mothers and their families find their own power, make informed decisions, and begin the journey of parenthood with confidence and joy.  I must strive to live my life as a reflection of these values.  I hope that I can help my clients to feel supported and valued.  Their experiences mean more to me than my personal feelings about their choices.  In the end, the birth experience belongs to the mother and her family.  It should be something they are able to cherish.

I have learned to be more accepting of other’s choices.  I know I may not make the same decisions for myself; but, I also understand that each mother, each birth, and each family is unique.  As a doula, I can be available to provide information to my clients and respect whatever decision they make in the end.  I have felt the pain of my own guilt and perceived judgement of others and I would not wish that on anyone else.

Now that I have realized how my own feelings have shaped my decisions, I believe that I may be able to better assist my clients in reflecting on their own experiences and choices.  I know what it is like to feel powerless.  By using reflective practice with my clients, as well as encouraging them to find the answers to their pregnancy, birth and parenting questions, I hope the women I work with will have a better chance of having a birth experience that is safe and satisfying. 

I am applying what I have learned as a wife and a parent.  I am more open with my husband about my wishes.  We are able to work together when it comes to how to raise our children, researching where to live, and even what vehicle to purchase.  I work hard to help my children realize their own power and potential.  I believe that they can achieve any goal.  I want them to know how loved they are and how valued they are. 

Finally, I am so happy to have been able to communicate with my parents about my feelings.  I am more comfortable relating to them as an adult.  My mother and I have since had many frank discussions about my perceptions of my ability to deal with physical pain.  She expressed to me the anger she felt toward the hospital staff for what she believed to be their neglect in determining my daughter’s position during second stage.  She has also become my biggest supporter in my role as a birth professional.  While I know now that I do not need the approval of others to feel worthy and successful, I am very glad that I’ve had this opportunity to communicate in this way with my mother. 

Summary

This paper has been a reflection on my experience giving birth to my first child.  I have discovered that many of the decisions I made were based up on fear and lack of confidence. I used fear as an excuse to keep me from exploring the other choices that were available to me at the time. I realize that by believing in my own abilities, trusting my instincts, and taking the responsibility to make informed decisions in my own life, I will be better able to support my clients in doing so themselves.  Through reflection I have been able to see what I had previously thought of as a negative experience in a positive manner by utilizing it as an opportunity for growth. I have learned to accept the decisions I made that shaped my birth experience.  The birth and early postpartum period taught me to also be non-judgemental and more supportive of my clients’ choices. I hope that the process of writing this paper will give me greater sensitivity when helping my clients as they work through any previous experiences they may have that could hinder them from claiming their own power to birth and mother. I am overjoyed to be able to work toward a better birthing future for the families in my community.