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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