Mary's Birth of John and Mary's Birth of Hank

Mary's Birth of John and Mary's Birth of Hank

To appreciate Hank’s birth, I had to tell John’s story first…

John was born 4 days past his expected due date via c-section after a failed induction.

I had a doctor I never connected with who looked at my numbers instead of hearing me. She started

having induction talks at 37 weeks telling me we were just waiting for something bad to happen at this

point. Her scare tactics didn’t work on me (then) and I said I planned to carry to term. Two days before

my due date, she scheduled me to go into be induced. It was close enough to his due date that I felt this would be ok, but quickly panicked once I was admitted (and hooked up to an IV) and checked myself out

of the hospital before they could start the induction.

I needed more time. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. So I went home and waited for him to

come on his own terms. His due date, Wednesday, Oct. 14, 2009, came and went. I was scheduled for

biophysical profiling on Friday. While there, a nurse checked my cervix. Nothing was going on, baby

had not engaged his head, labor was not eminent. However, my doctor (based on all the previous facts)

orders me into the hospital after the appointment. I was not prepared to go in again but she managed to

scare my husband, which in turn made me doubt myself. I told her I had movie tickets and would go in

the next day. (This went over *really* well.)

I checked in Saturday morning where they started Cytotec. After two rounds I was having contractions,

they pumped me full of Pitocin and broke my water. I did not dilate and after 24 hours of horrendous

contractions, being stuck in bed, having an array of nightmare nurses not letting me move, etc. I

was given the c-section talk. Tired, weak and having lost all my will, I gave in. It was labeled a failed

induction, but in my mind my doctor had failed me. Before I was even wheeled into the OR I knew that

I could not labor and deliver like this again. John was born healthy at 8lbs, 6oz and immediately taken

to the nursery so I could be sewn up. I waited almost 2 hours to see him and vaguely remember being

in a drugged state asking for him back in my room. Once I got him I held him but could barely hold

my own head up. I felt and still feel completely cheated by this experience. In the months to follow, I

would spend my days in a sort of fog. In pain. Crying, a lot. Feeling heartbroken over missing those first

moments with him, the moments everyone tells you matter so much. Listening to everyone say, “But

you have a healthy baby, and that’s all that matters!” Is that all that matters? Then why do I feel so

broken?

I knew immediately next time would be different, I just didn’t know how soon that would be. I started

emailing midwives in my area to see if they thought I might be a candidate for a VBAC. The response was

that I should be able to deliver a baby naturally, so when the time came, I decided that’s the way I’d go.

When John was 10 months old, I found out #2 was on the way and so began my journey for the birth I

envisioned. I remember meeting with my midwife early on in my pregnancy thinking something is going

to happen to prevent me from delivering the way I want. As I progressed, and all was well, I waited

for the other shoe to drop… I anticipated failure, and couldn’t see the outcome I actually hoped for.

Third trimester came along and I waited. Waited for a baby; waited for something to go wrong. It was

miserable not knowing how things would turn out.

By 34 weeks, I was having contractions non-stop. Nothing consistent enough to be labor, but enough to

think my body was gearing up for something big. 40 weeks came and went.

At 41 weeks I thought I’d lose my mind. But then something amazing happened: I started having regular/

consistent contractions. I spent an entire night barely sleeping, contracting all night long, about every 10

minutes apart. Not enough to be in active labor, but they weren’t going away. After a night of no sleep

and being super uncomfortable, I called in desperate to my midwife. I needed to know if anything was

going on. I didn’t know how many nights of no sleep I could handle before embarking on true labor. At

her office I found out I was 4cm, 70% effaced. SCORE!

I went home elated that things were happening and a baby was eminent. The contractions kept coming

and by that evening I texted my midwife and labor doula that this might be the real thing. My labor

doula came over and set up the birth pool and all I could think was what an ass I would feel like if this

wasn’t the ‘real thing’. But the contractions kept coming and I spent my time laboring in the tub and

being walked around or told to sit on the toilet by my birth team. I never thought sitting on a toilet could

be so painful, but each contraction on there made me want to rip him out. By 3am my midwife came

over and I was 8cm.

But then I lost all my steam. I had been up for more than 24 hours, with a ton on contractions, little to

eat and virtually no sleep. They put me to bed so I could try and get some rest in between contractions

to regain my strength. My midwife went home to shower and brought back Starbucks. Everyone else

napped on the floor, in the living room, wherever there was a place to crash. By 9am, with some tea

and crackers in my system and some magic pills given to me by the midwife (black & blue cohosh) I was

ready to get back in the water and labor. My body was taking over and the contractions came in waves.

I felt this surge of energy—I wanted to be done with this, stat! I felt a huge pop! My water broke, finally!

I felt him getting lower and lower and I remember suddenly feeling scared. I said to my midwife, “I don’t

know what to do!” And she replied (like, duh!), “Push your baby out!” So I did, so fast she didn’t even

have a glove on! My midwife reached down to help him the rest of the way out and within minutes I was

holding my baby.

I was in shock. I felt a surge of emotion, but couldn’t even get a tear out. I had just delivered my baby,

without so much as an Advil, and I didn’t die. My uterus didn’t rupture. I was alert and so was my baby.

He didn’t have to go anywhere if I didn’t want him to. Shock is the only way to describe it.

It’s been almost a year since my HWBAC (home water birth after cesarean) and it’s still surreal to me.

Like, I did that! ME! I’m NOT BROKEN. I labored 35 hours and naturally delivered a 9lb, 8oz, almost 24

inch long baby at 41 weeks and 3 days.

What I learned was that my first labor didn’t break me and I wasn’t broken. But my second labor healed

me in ways I didn’t even know I needed. It made me feel strong and capable, and for that I am eternally

grateful.

Happy 1st Birthday, Hank! xoxo

tags: birth, birth stories, birth stories on demand, positive birth stories, cesarean section, c-section, failed induction, cytotec, home birth, VBAC, Natural birth, birth stories with pictures

Janis's Births of Sadie and Birth of Matthew

Janis's Birth of Sadie

This birth story was used by permission from Janis's blog here:

http://janisfan.livejournal.com/

Monday June 13th: I go for my normal NST. My urine test comes back 2 for protein. First time I've spilled protein. BP higher than it has been. Get sent to L D for further testing.

At L D I get monitored, another u/s, and a catheter urine collection to make sure that the protein was coming from my pee rather than from my discharge. Lovely, I know. The nurse has a difficult time with the cath. She spills urine all over the bed (fortunately not the sample though) and has a difficult time placing and removing the cath. It HURTS to pee afterwards with some blood too. I think she nicked me. This info is important later in the story. They send me home to do a 24-hr urine collection and I have a 2pm appointment with my NP, Nancy Z the following day. They say that it's looking like pre-eclampsia but since my cervix is closed and I'm not at all effaced and the baby is high they'd like to squeek a few more days out of me.

Tuesday June 14 I go to the NP appointment. My BP is thru the roof. 18?/101 or something. She sends me to L D at about 3pm. When we get there I know we've graduated when we bypass the triage room and go straight to a labor/delivery room. The dr. orders the lab to hurry up with the urine test. I flunk the 24-hour test. My BP is lower, but still fairly high. They say they want to induce. I say go ahead. I wish I would have asked if we could wait until the morning because I had had so little sleep Monday night and had no nap. 

At 8pm they give me cytotec on my cervix. The monitors say I'm having pretty regular cx but I either don't feel them or they are not very painful. A short while later the dr. checks my cervix and I'm only 1.5 cm. They start the pitocin on a very small drip. The cx get harder and stronger. 

I have a hard time dealing with the cervix checks. They freakin KILL me. It's a visceral pain...emotional as much as physical. I can't handle them. 

Wednesday June 15th: They then decide to do a cervical catheter to manually dilate my cervix. At 3am they try to insert a catheter up into my cervix and blow up the balloon part. When it falls out I would be at 3cm. They can't get it in. It was very painful. I am now getting very frustrated and in pain - from the cervix checks - not the cx. I am handling the cx in and of themselves fine. I am also EXHAUSTED. They give me demerol/phenergan so I can get some sleep as it's going to be a long haul. I sleep fitfully for about 3 hours.

After this they decide to try the cervical cath again. They successfully managed to cajole me into accepting the procedure again. It was such a painful procedure and continued to be painful the entire time it was in me. This was my 2nd "mistake" - in 20/20 hindsight I really should have declined it; and in fact, I believe I did decline it really but the nurses/docs kept pushing it and pushing it at me. It didn't help that the nurse who was assisting the dr. was the same nurse who fumbled with my urinary cath on Monday. I wish I had asked for a different nurse. The pain it caused me really made me tense up and in more stress. I could not relax with it in me. But I didn't know any better - I had never heard of this procedure and I was concerned about my lack of progress in dilation. They said that once I got to 3cm, labor was likely to become more productive. 

After the cath fell out, another couple hours pass by and I'm still at 3-4cm. No progress. They decide to break my bag of waters. I refuse to let them. They advise me that the breaking will make my labor go faster and be more productive. I tell them I can't tolerate anything more being done to my cervix. By now I am absolutely and terribly upset. I am sitting in the bathroom on the toilet bawling my eyes out. I felt so out of control. I felt so powerless. It was the exact opposite of what I wanted for my labor and birth. 

Then they start the magnesium sulfate drip to ward off seizure due to my high BP. More on this awful drug later.

They offered me the epidural so I could tolerate the breaking of the bag and so it would ease my pain which I was in a lot of by this point. Pitocin sucks. After the epidural they put the urine cath in me. I felt the cath in me the entire time. Every time I had a cx the cath killed me. It was so painful. I keep telling people this and they don't know what to do about it. I "shouldn't" be feeling it. I think I felt it b/c of the Monday nurse who didn't do a good job with the temp cath and nicked my urethra.

Plus, earlier a nurse had attempted to take blood out of my right hand. I told her that I have tendonitis in that hand and that I had a perfectly good vein in my elbow... but she said that my hand was fine. I let her. (Being in pain, exhausted, and under the influence of the mag sulfate made me such a freaking pushover; unable to think clearly or defend myself.) She couldn't find the vein (like I said), tried rooting around in there but ended up going to exactly where I said to go. This whole incident wouldn't have been so bad EXCEPT that after they gave me the epidural, they put a BP cuff on my right arm. Every 2.5mins the BP cuff would go off and would positively kill my right hand. The pain was worse than my worst cx. They couldn't put it in the other arm b/c that was where the IV was.

So they finally convince me to let them break my bag of waters. GUSH after gush of hot water that stung. I don't know why it was so acidic. Another 3-4 hours go by and I have not dilated another single cm.

It is now midnight June 16th (thurs) 29 hours of labor. I am exhausted, thirsty (npo since late Tuesday), upset, frustrated, powerless, out of control. They tell me I haven't made any progress in the last 3-4hours. They say that we need to start thinking about a c-section. I say in a deep gutteral, visceral voice: "Good, get this baby out of me now!" I felt slightly relieved by this. I am done with labor. Just fully done. I could do no more. 

They wheel me into the OR. They leave me lying there while the dr. explains procedure to a new resident. No one tells me what's going on. I finally say, 'What's going on?" They respond as though they are surprised I am there. They tell me they are prepping for me. I ask when DH is going to be let in. They say a little while. It takes forever. I keep feeling the pain of the catheter. I keep yelling at them that they can't cut me because I am feeling the pain of the catheter. I have never had surgery before. No one is telling me what's going on. Marty still hasn't been brought to the room. I keep asking for him and complaining I can feel the catheter. They didin't tell me they were already inside me...then they say, "But you're almost done. She's almost out." And I reply, "Why didn't you tell me that?" I was so upset because I could've been less upset, more calm if I knew I couldn't and indeed wasn't feeling the cutting.

Unfortunately, the anesthesiologist either wasn't listening to or couldn't understand me and thought I was feeling the surgery. So he gave me a drug called Versed. One of the major "side effects" of versed is lack of short term memory. As a result, I blank out after that. I wake up as I am being wheeled into the recovery room. I start screaming, "Where's my baby? Where is she?" My birth coach L says that she is with DH in the nursery. I ask why they didn't bring her to me to see her before they went to the nursery. They said they did. i don't believe them. I ask her apgar score and they said the first was a 5. They had to give her oxygen and help rouse her. But her second score was a 9. I start yelling that "I want to see my baby. I want her NOW." To this very day I have absolutely NO recollection of DD being born. It is the singular most horrible thing that has ever happened to me in my life. It is a regret that I will carry to my very last day.

DH says that while he was in the nursery a nurse came running in saying "where's the new baby? We need to get her now. She needs to go to her mother now." DH says he could hear me screaming "Where's my baby?" down the hall. 

I hear the bassinet being wheeled down the hall. They give DD to me. I cry so hard. Having her in my arms made the whole ordeal worth it. She was rooting as I held her. I put her to my breast and she latched on correctly the very first time. She sucked and sucked and sucked.

Later I am lying in my bed. I can't turn over. DH is sound asleep in the fold-out bed. He's not responding to my yelling at him to help me. 30 minutes later I call the nurse in to help me. She has to wake him up. I think he's still not responding. I accuse him of doing drugs, "Are you on something?" I try to get the nurse to agree that something's off with him.

At the same time, I am sweating profusely. I feel like crap. The nurse tells me that I am dealing with the side-effects of the mag sulfate. I have to have it in til 1am Friday.

Friday June 17th 1am. They take the mag sulfate out. By 1;30 I am a new woman. I am cooperative,m communicative, I make sense, I'm rational, and I feel so much better. All the nurses say how remarkable getting off the mag sulafte is for me. That drug made me into Dr. Jekyll and directly impacted my ability to have a good experience in labor. It clouded every piece of judgment I had. It made everything so much more difficult to handle.

All day Thursday and Friday nurses kept telling me how well we were doing. But no one spent much time with me observing dd's latch at the breast. When I showed the nurse my aching, purple, bruised nipple she handed me a thing of Lansinoh. No one stopped to teach me different positions. I tried to remember what I had read in the various BF books and it was all a jumble. No one seemed to question why she seemed so fussy even after spending 45 minutes on my breast. I figure that she's just a fussy baby.

Saturday June 18th One of the afternoon LVN's comes in my room. He takes her and changes her diaper. This is the first time a nurse has done that. He puts her to my breast. He looks at something she's doing and then says that she's not latched right. He positions her on the breast. Immediately my nipple feels much better. He leaves the room. I can't get her latched right after that. I call him back. He does it again. I try to explain that I want him to teach me ... that I need to know what it is he is doing. 

This man single-handedly managed to shred the minuscule self-confidenece I had managed to acquire in my parenting skills thru his authoritative style. He managed to make me feel like all that I thought I knew was wrong. I hadn't 
been doing anything right after all (or that's what I was thinking anyways). In the afternoon dd developed a mild fever of 100.2. He got it down to 99.5 by removing some of her clothes. 

Discharge date: Sunday June 19th 12:30am. The nurse weighs dd. She has lost 13oz. She still has a fever. The pediatrician says it's due to dehydration and to give her 20cc of colostrum/formula. I am in tears. She puts the breast pump on. After 20 minutes, I collect 6cc of colostrum. DD feeds that to her via a bottle. I ask if we can do it thru a syringe or something else. She says no. DH feeds her 14 cc more of formula in a bottle. I can barely look at her while this is happening. DD is such a voracious and impatient eater that I am sure she will reject the breast once she gets a bottle nipple. She sleeps a sound sleep and stops being so fussy. She clearly was hungry. I feel horrible that I had allowed this to happen. 

How could I not have asked more questions? How could I have just taken at face value that everything was alright? 

Well, this nurse (Eula) was an excellent nurse. She gave me so much helpful advice about nursing. She showed me how to get her to latch correctly. She was gentle and kind and treated me with respect. She made me feel so much better. Albeit at 3am. Why they decide to do things (induction, baby weighing) so late when the patient is tired anyways is beyond me. 

9am: The OB comes and takes my staples out. Everyone says how good my incision scar looks. I take their word for it as there is no full length mirror and my belly is still too big to see it. 

9:30am: The NP/lactation consultant comes in. She expresses some fluid from my boobs and declares that my milk is coming in. She watches dd eat (with my newfound skills which I SHOULD HAVE been taught on day one not on day 4) and she says she doesn't want to supplement with formula. That as my milk comes in and dd gets more to eat things will work out. We have an appointment for the next day to weigh her again.

Actual due date: Monday June 20th We made it thru our first night at home. And oh boy has my milk come in. We go to the dr. and she has gained 2oz in one day. This is great.

Tuesday June 21st 5:30am dd poops. Tuesday night my breasts become so engorged. I join the breastfeeding community. Get lots of great advice.

Wednesday June 22nd Still no poop since yesterday. Am slightly concerned, but since she's having lots of pee diapers and she's eating every 1-2 hours for the most part and she seems slightly more substantial than on Monday I am not overly worried. Decide to call the dr if she hasn't pooped by Thurs morning.

Thursday June 23rd Stil no poop. We have a dr. appointment set for 4pm today if she hasn't pooped by then. I think I'll still go to have her weighed. I am curious to see that she is gaining.

I am up and down emotionally, but mostly I am just exhausted. She likes to sleep all day and be up and cranky all night. She still latches well, but she gets lazy about it or falls sound asleep after 5 minutes. She also likes to have these marathon nursing sessions. But i am captivated by her. She is the most precious thing that has ever happned to me. I had no idea how much i could love someone. 

I want to thank all of you out in pregnant land for all of your support and words of wisdom over the course of my pregnancy. You have no idea how much you all have meant to me. It's amazing how a group of women, strangers to eachother, from across the world, can come together in such support. I hope that none of us takes this for granted. This community is a special place. I know that we all have our varied and strong opinions about various things child-related. But I think the one thing that unites us is that we really do want what's best for ourselves and our children...we just may go about it differently. We are truly blessed an fortunate to have each other.

[5/1/12 ETA: It took 3 years of extensive therapy to manage the PTSD diagnosis resulting from this experience. None of the procedures in and of themselves were traumatic - the trauma came from not being respected, heard, and given control of what was happening. 5.5 years after dd's birth I gave birth to a baby boy. His labor/delivery was almost exactly the same but not traumatic. Why? I had an experienced doula to help me and the birth team was EXTREMELY respectful of my choices and I never felt the loss of control or disrespect.]

Janis's Birth of Matthew

This birth story was used by permission from Janis's blog here:

http://janisfan.livejournal.com/

When you read this birth story, you should know that I came to this birth after a long 5 year journey of coping with severe post traumatic stress from the delivery of my first born: three full years of ptsd therapy just to be able to function as a mother; another two to get my nerve up to attempt pregnancy again. I wanted so much to attempt a vaginal birth again, but this time armed with much more information and support. I would have to birth due to health insurance reasons in the same hospital in which I had given birth 5 years earlier.

I was very lucky that I have a health care provider who is extremely supportive of VBAC. With one notable exception from a provider who I saw once prenatally, from the very beginning to the end of my pregnancy when I again developed hypertension and pre-eclampsia, my providers both prenatally and in the hospital encouraged me to go for it. 

Around midnight on Friday February 11th, I found out that the results of my 24 hr urine test taken the day before had come back positive for protein. I blogged that I was nervous that the standard range was 0-150 and mine was 461; however, I found out that that standard range is for non-pregnant people, pregnant range goes all the way to 300 and so mine was "mildly elevated". I knew based on my last pregnancy that this combined with my elevated blood pressure meant I had again come down with pre-eclampsia. 

The doctor in labor and delivery advised me that I could either come in at 7 and do a repeat c-section or I could come in for a mild induction. After discussing this with my husband I decided to come in for the induction. Earlier in the pregnancy, I had thought that I would not do another induction as my first child's birth started as an induction which failed. However, based on the doctor's information and my conversation with hubby, we decided that we would rather try what we could so that after we would not have too many "what ifs". The plan was that the nurse would call me later in the day to let me know when I could come in to begin.

At about 1am I climbed in to bed alongside my daughter who had been sick for the past couple days with a GI virus. Conscious that I had not slept well for the previous 24 hours due to her illness and my general discomfort, I fell asleep and at 2:25 I woke up thinking that I had to go to the bathroom. When I turned to get up I felt a sensation like a balloon popping between my legs. Whoosh! My water broke and I soaked my poor bed. I ran to the bathroom with wadded up paper towels between my legs and called to my husband. Almost immediately I had a contraction that I immediately recognized as the real deal. Contractions are incredible. They are like nothing I have ever experienced before. INTENSE. I didn't experience them as painful as much as intense pressure and tightening. 

We called our doula to let her know and also to our friends who had agreed to watch our daughter while I was in the hospital. I called L+D to tell them that we were on our way as the contractions were like clockwork every 4-5 minutes for an hour. I now think I should have held out a bit before going in but with the preeclampsia diagnosis I didn't feel comfortable laboring at home. 

We got to the hospital and they hooked me up to the monitors. Fortunately, I was able to use the telemetry so I could walk around. I could also get in the shower. The contractions were really intense. However, having our doula there was so helpful ... I was able to try new positions and to vocalize. I have never felt so powerful and alive. The contractions were painful but they do let you rest, sort of. I had a hard time dealing with them lying down so it was difficult to rest in between. This lack of rest turned out to be a central figure in my story.

Having our doula there was such a blessing. She made sure that all of the providers were aware of my previous trauma and that they did not do the things that triggered my ptsd. She was a comforting presence and gave us a sounding board that was completely nonjudgmental, supportive and strong. Most importantly, she gave me a voice. Her presence gave me courage and a feeling of safety that I never really had with my first birth experience. This courage allowed me to speak up for myself with the providers and this empowerment has been one of the most healing aspects of this birth. She allowed my husband to be my husband and not have to step outside and be the objective and strong one. We could both lean on her ... physically and emotionally! I will forever be indebted to her and I highly highly recommend getting a doula, even if you are scheduling a csection.

About 1pm I requested a cervix check because I was getting tired and just wanted to see where things were at. My contractions were fairly regular but not lengthening. I was pretty disappointed to find that I was at 1cm and only 25% effaced. I was reassured though that I was really still in early labor and that I still had time.

I then labored for another 3 hours and got to 4 cms. At that point, I was really really tired. The contractions were hard to handle in bed but without being in bed I was unable to rest. I had had only 1 hr of sleep the night before (and that was cosleeping with sicky child). I was really concerned about becoming totally exhausted and then not being able to push him out. I even started talking about just giving up and going straight to the csection. I couldn't decide between getting an epidural so I could rest while laboring and just ending things. I was sooo tired.

Fortunately, both my doula and the doctor encouraged me to continue laboring for another couple hours and see if anything changed. When it hadn't I decided to get the epidural and continuing laboring in the hopes that the rest would allow me to dilate more. 

Getting the epidural was so challenging. I found it very difficult to sit through it. The catheter that had to be inserted was painful even with the epidural. I did like that it was a self-administered epidural - there was a baseline amount and then I could click a button to get more if I needed it. I liked that I could still feel the contractions. While they were challenging, I was and always will be so grateful for having experienced them. My doula explained they are like my body hugging the baby as he went through labor. I felt so connected to him during them. I do wish I had been able to labor naturally longer; I am certain I would have likely been able to had I gotten more sleep in the day before my water broke. 

I continued om with the epidural but continued to stay at 4cms. They started me on a small dose of pitocin but at about 2:30am on Saturday 2/12, 24 hrs, I called it quits. They had placed an internal monitor to measure my contractions and it did not look good for much more dilation. In addition, baby boy had a heart rate deceleration or two. I did get a bit sad about it but the fact that it was my decision and that I had really done all I could made it OK.

I was disappointed that not only could my husband not accompany me into the OR during the prep but I also could not wear my IPod in. I did request that I always have someone by my side and that I be told everything that was going on and the nurses and docs did a pretty good job keeping me abreast of what was going on. Unfortunately, another patient somewhere was having Code Blue and for a few moments all but a couple of people left the room, but soon everyone came back. The anesthesiologist upped my epidural and then I got nauseous. I proceeded to throw up two or three times. Throwing up while lying on your back and drugged up is awful. The anesthesiologist was so nonchalant about it: "Just turn your head to the side" and he held a small bucket. After the third time I felt better but was still concerned because hubby still hadn't come in and they were mostly ready. I was happy, though, that I could no longer feel the catheter. 

Unlike with my daughter, everyone introduced themselves to me and no one had any side conversations that did not pertain to the surgery. Once hubby came in the surgery began. Then the pulling and pushing. OMG. The kid was all up in my busineness. I kept hearing them say "He's big! He's gonna be a big one! Wow! How big was your first? Did you have diabetes?" 

And then, one of the best moments of my life - bar none - our darling son got fully pulled out and he immediately started crying. AND I REMEMBER IT. The whole time of the csection, I kept crying - not because I was sad but because I kept thinking to myself, "I'm going to remember this. I don't have any recollection of this from S [my daughter]. I am going to remember it!" I kept thinking things like that all through the labor, too. I am so grateful that I experienced nearly everything there is to experience other than the pushing part. 

They put him on the scale almost immediately and announced "Ten punds one ounce" and his length. I was so shocked by the weight that I didn't hear his length at all. I couldn't believe it. It wasn't until I was nearly discharged that I found out he's a shorty at 18 3/4 inches. 

Then they took him over and they put him on my chest while they were scraping out the scar tissue from the previous surgery and stitching me up. They did a great job...they sutured me instead of staples and tape. Now, 7 weeks later, I hardly have any scar and I am in very very little pain. It was hard having him on my chest because I couldn't nurse him and also I was starting to shake from getting chills. I started to feel bad about that so I just asked hubby to hold him. After, we were wheeled back to the room for recovery.

His first nursing went really really well. I had already started producing colostrum and so he was actually able to get something. He had a great latch which continued to be fairly good. He sometimes does not want to open his mouth big enough and he also can clamp down pretty hard if I let him slip off from his latch when he's nearing completion. 

They took his blood sugar since he was so big and it was a bit low. I managed to stave off the threat of formula by nursing him a whole bunch and using breast massage to get as much of the colostrum in him as possible. They did 4 blood sugar tests over the next several hours and it got better and better. 

DS had a couple of issues during this time. He had a hard time figuring out how to organize his breathing and had quite a fast respiratory rate. This is called Transient Tachypnea of the Newborn and is likely a direct result of the csection. I first noticed it and brought it up to the nurses twice. The docs would take a look and of course he was always breathing normally when they came in to observe him. Then in the middle of the night on Sunday, the nurse offered to take him for an hour or two to let us sleep and while she had him, not only did she notice that he was breathing fast but it was also quite shallow. So she took him to the Intensive Care Nursery (ICN). Marty went with him and they did a chest xray to make sure that it wasn't anything more significant. Let me tell you, that was some of the longest 2 hours of my life! I was still in quite a bit of pain and so I waited in the room instead of going into the ICN. Fortunately it turned out to be just this transient thing and so I was able to stop worrying (well, about that anyways!).

While in the nursery they weighed him and he had lost about 3% of his birth weight. On Tuesday they weighed him again and he went down to 8lbs13oz (11%) and his bilirubin levels were also rising. They were 7 on Sunday, 13 on Monday, and 15 on Tuesday. He was also looking yellowish. I had noticed that on Sunday and had remarked to Marty that I bet he was getting jaundiced. Tuesday I was set to be discharged and they let me know that there was a possibility of me being disharged without him because he might need to be under the bili lights. Since my milk was still taking its time coming fully in (it was just starting) I agreed to supplement with formula via SNS (and also pump to get EBM) in an effort to get him discharged with me. This worked as the bili numbers that came in on Tuesday were not enough to get him admitted. I would have to return to the peds office the following day for another check.

Meanwhile, on Monday I had a couple of crap nurses who somehow managed to avoid giving me my pain meds for nearly 12 hours. The one said she saw me up walking the halls so she thought I didn't need any. Hello! The pain meds were letting me get up! I hope they got in trouble because I told the OB who did my surgery all about it and she was very very upset. I think that was the worst experience of the whole experience - being without the pain meds on Monday for so long. The pain was just horrendous and it made me irritable and irrational. Or, well, rational for someone who had not had pain meds :)

I am disappointed that he got the formula but I really really did not want him to have to remain in the hospital. I would have been able to stay with him but hubby would have had to go home and I just did not want to be left alone there. In the end of it all, he only got at most about 2-3 ounces total in a 24 hr period.

On the day of disharge (Tuesday), a stupid Labor and delivery nurse gave me too much pain meds and I had to deal with a couple of hours of being really out of it and it also made me anxious. Turns out it was a mistake because for most of the time I had been having 2 - 5mg NorCo tablets but they swic=tched it to 1 mg tablet. I insisted to the nurse that I get two pills and she gave them to me - she didn't realize that the dosage per pill had been changed. My blood pressure also remained out of whack and I was put on a blood pressure medication - Labetolol. I took that until 6 weeks postpartum when I got measured again and my BP was back to normal and again at 8 weeks postpartum. 

I continued using the SNS until about midnight that Tuesday when OMG my milk came in. And along with my milk came the chills. I have never experienced the chills so bad with any flu. I did not have a fever but I was so cold. I wrapped myself in many blankets and just shivered for quite a while. Thank G-d during this period that he did not want to nurse because I could not have held him. Finally, the chills died down and we managed to go to bed. I proceeded for the next several days to get the chills whenever I would get cold. 

On Wednesday DD returned home and started her career as the big sister. It feels like he has always been with us. He has fit right in. I am doing great physically and feel fine emotionally for the most part. I defeinitely need to figure out a way to get out of the house sans children for an hour or two. It's been a challenge being so touched out.

In the end, I am so pleased with my birth experience. I truly feel that the work I did to prep for a VBAC helped me to have a positive experience even with the resultant surgery. This birth has done so much for my healing emotionally from the first birth. I am so so grateful.

Lorry's Birth of Dagmar and Birth of Magdalena

Lorry's Birth of Dagmar     

This birth story was used my permission from Lorry's blog here:

http://www.alteredsky.net/blog/?p=113

the birth story

September 12th, 2008 | Author: Lorry

Introducing Dagmar Lee Fach-Pedersen

September 10, 2008

9:45am CET

Herlev, Denmark

3430 grams / 7 lb 8 oz

53 cm / 21 in  

I started feeling contractions here and there about a week before, including a false alarm when the hospital sent me home at a mere 1cm dilation. By the morning of September 7th, I was having them every 3-5 minutes. They were quite painful, and I was so sure it was really labor. We called the hospital. Since my contractions lasted less than a minute and a half, they didn’t want me to come in yet. The midwife said I should get some sleep instead, but I found myself unable to sleep through them.

The contractions were still coming and getting stronger on the 8th. We called the hospital again, and they decided to check me out. Baby’s fine but I’m only 2cm dilated. I got some pain killers and a sleep aid so I could at least get some sleep in the meantime. We went back home, I took the pills, and I was able to get 15 minute snippets of sleep in between waking up screaming in pain. Sadly, this was an improvement.

Back to the hospital on the morning of the 9th, the contractions still not having let up at all, and… 2cm dilated. I managed not to break down in tears. The midwife attempted to make me feel better by saying I was now completed effaced, whereas I wasn’t yesterday. I guess that’s something. They offered me morphine and another sleep aid, and a room in the hospital while I got some sleep. I got wheeled around in a hospital bed for the first time as they transferred me from labor and delivery to some place Thomas and I could sleep. I’m so grateful they never once made us separate and Thomas was always always with me!!!

I slept for two hours which was like heaven, then it was back to painful and totally unproductive contractions. After a couple more hours I was at 3cm, and Inger, the midwife, suggested we try to help nature out a bit. I thought that sounded like a great idea! Heck yeah, I thought.

So as soon as there was space in labor and delivery, down we went. More rolling hospital bed excitement. Someone who entered the room to deliver sheets or something saw me and remarked how uncomfortable I looked. She said she would bring me something to prop my legs up. I wondered how bad I looked, and why my legs needed propping up, but didn’t ask. Inger explained that she’d be giving me an artificial version of a hormone my uterus makes to help my contractions do some real work. I didn’t ask, but I assume it was pitocin. When a bean bag was placed in the room, on the extra bed, I didn’t know what it was. I thought it was a comforter for the bed or something. It was a while later before someone realized it was there and put it under my legs. I didn’t like it there at all and had them remove it again. At some point, a birth ball was brought in and Inger suggested I try sitting on it to see if it helped. It was awful. I got back on the bed instead.

Inger was periodically checking me and I was actually dilating now. In between checks, I was pretty free to move around and get in different positions, but, really, everything was just painful. During one check, hours later, my waters broke and they were tinged green with meconium. Inger said my contractions would be stronger now, so we discussed my options for pain. The “bee stings” option sounded pretty stupid to me. They can stick a few needles in me every hour and it’s supposed to take my mind off the contractions. Um, no thanks. Of course, an epidural was an option, but I decided to try the laughing gas first. The laughing gas was good. My HypnoBabies, if nothing else, taught me how to breathe deeply and that was an immense help, both before and after getting the gas. Thomas commented that I smiled for the first time in a long time after a few deep breaths with that wonderful mask.

Dagmar’s vitals were always shown to be perfect, no matter what was going on with me, which was at least nice to hear. I was still trying different positions and such but nothing really helped at all except that wonderful, beautiful mask, and putting every ounce on concentration on counting while I breathed. 1, 2, 3, 4 in and 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 out. My whole being went into those numbers. I never said anything out loud, but I screamed those numbers internally. The numbers were my friends.

The pitocin seemed to be working. I got to 8cm relatively quickly, although it still felt like an eternity Then everything just stopped. Well, not everything. I still had lots of contractions and lots of pain, but no improvement. I wasn’t getting much break between contractions anymore and we had to turn the gas up, but I just wasn’t dilating anymore. This is about when I started feeling the urge to push, even though I clearly wasn’t ready to.

At first, I was pretty successful at not pushing, but it became increasingly difficult. Pushing when I know full well it’s a bad idea for both me and my baby, but having no control over it, is probably the most painful, frustrating, exhausting thing I’ve ever done… physical, emotional and intellectual hell. By now, Inger’s shift had been over for a while but there was no one available to take over so she had stayed with me. Someone else finally arrived, and she probably told me her name but I wasn’t really paying attention. We had seen her once before on one of the trips to the hospital where we got sent home again, and she was very nice. There was another woman with her who I assumed was in training since she mostly just watched, and when she did do stuff, she was less confident about it, but she was very nice. The new midwife examined me while the Asian trainee looked on. I desperately wanted her to announce I was fully dilated and could push. No luck. 8cm. She decided to notify a doctor while trainee looked after me, telling me not to push.

It seemed about ten years later when the doctor arrived, and she too was being shadowed by an Asian woman. Maybe there is some kind of exchange program, but I really didn’t care enough to ask. The doctor thought maybe she could push the remaining cervix out of the way and let me push, but that just hurt a hell of a lot and didn’t work. She decided to do a scan and determine the baby’s position, which was sunny side up and with a poorly tilted head. Despite all efforts, Dagmar would just not tilt her head properly to get out. We were pretty much out of options, and I was most definitely out of energy.

The doctor said we’d need to do a cesarean and asked me if that was ok. I said, “I don’t care. I just want it to end.” And so I was wheeled away once more to an operating room nearby. Apparently this was less than 15 minutes before Dagmar was born, but it still felt like forever. Everything had to be done between contractions, which were still coming fast and strong. I didn’t really want to know what was happening, just that things were moving forward. I closed my eyes and felt various random things happen to me one at a time with contractions in between and people telling me repeatedly not to push. Most of what was going on was talked about in Danish, so I only understood what I needed to, i.e. instructions to me specifically. I appreciated that.

I didn’t know it at the time, but my mother had run from the room in hysterics at the mention of cesarean and someone was calming her down in the waiting room. (Mom said later that a woman assured her by saying, “some babies need to come out the escape hatch!” amongst other things.)

Thomas was next to me, having instantly appeared with a hair net and weird blue zippered shirt. He held my hand and told me how wonderful I was doing, which generally kept me from going insane. He told me later he was very nearly crying as well, but I had no clue at the time. I just remember him being amazing. I remember really cold stuff being poured over my back a couple times, and being needled in the hand and the back, but nothing nearly as uncomfortable as labor. The epidural finally kicked in and the hell of contractions ended for the first time in days. I might have cried with happiness, except I was soooooo cold. I couldn’t stop shivering. But this was still way better.

I laid there shivering, and feeling weird pulling sensations on my lower half, and then suddenly “it’s a big, beautiful baby girl!” I felt like my smile would hit the walls of the room. Thomas went with her as they took her away to be checked out by a pediatrician. I only got a quick glimpse of her before she was gone, but I really didn’t care. It was over. Thomas is with her. Everything is fine. I laid there shivering some more while they did whatever they do to patch me back up again.

Thomas came back in with her a few minutes later, and held her next to me, though I couldn’t move. That was a bit frustrating, but I was still mostly elated. It wasn’t too long before they transferred me to another bed, laid Dagmar on my chest, and wheeled me to recovery while I just stared at my daughter grinning.

Once in recovery, Thomas helped me attempt to nurse her since I only had one mobile arm (the other tethered to an IV) and she took right to breast with no issue. It was so easy I actually thought it must not really be working, but everyone assured me it was. After several hours, I got feeling back in my legs and one final bed ride to the rooms where people recover from cesareans. There was already a bed in the room, in addition to the one I wheeled in on. The midwife gave Thomas a set of sheets for the other bed, and a bassinet was wheeled in for Dagmar, though she primarily stayed on my chest. Someone took some blood “to check [my] percentages,” whatever that means. I don’t really care. A couple times, people came in to check on us. Her latch was good. I asked for more morphine. My bandage was changed. (Ooowww!) I was encouraged to walk about as soon as I felt ready.

Thomas fetched us dinner from some common area. Stuck in bed, I didn’t know exactly where it was, but it was some area just for us cesarean recoverers. I was starving, and the food was actually pretty decent. I kept getting refills on a pitcher of red juice.

I started to feel a bit better and thought I’d try getting out of bed. I paged a nurse, and she was very patient as I slowly attempted. It was a lot harder than I expected. The whole sitting up part, in transition between lying and standing, was awful. Once I was standing, it was ok, but then I noticed blood running down my leg. Maybe I’ll try again later. The nurse helped me clean up. A while later, someone came in with a bunch of pills and instructions on when to take them. Painkillers, antibiotics, laxatives. I took several at 10 pm.

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 Tags: birth, birth story, birth stories on demand, cesarean section, cesarean stories, c section stories, extended pushing, 

     Lorry's Birth of Magdalena

This birth story was used my permission from Lorry's blog here:

http://www.alteredsky.net/blog/?p=113

All in Two Days’ Work (a.k.a. The Birth Story, Finally)

October 19th, 2010 | Author: Lorry

Introducing…

Magdalena Rosario
“Maggie Rose”
Fach-Pedersen

October 13, 2010
4:31pm CEST
Herlev, Denmark

3440 grams / 7 lb. 9 oz.
52 cm / 20.5 in

I felt pre-labor for about a week, with occasional moments where the contractions seemed strong enough and regular enough to be for real, but then I’d change positions and they’d peter out.

On the morning of the 12th, I woke up around 7 or so and thought I was having gas pains. I realized the gas pains were coming and going regularly, so I started timing them. I walked around, sat down, had some water, ate some breakfast… they just kept going. After a few hours, they hadn’t stopped and were getting stronger, but still weren’t bad. I was told since I was a VBAC to come in as soon as I knew they were real contractions, and not Braxton Hicks. I called the hospital and explained what I was feeling, and they said to come in.

Thomas left work and tried to call his dad to come get Dagmar, but he wasn’t answering. We took Dagmar with us on the bus to the hospital, which is just one stop away. We finally got a hold of him and he came and got her from us at the hospital.

(I’ve never given birth in an English-speaking country, so I don’t know if or how some things translate from Danish, but I hope you can bear with me!)

When I finally got checked into the fødemodtagelse, I was 3 cm dilated and fully effaced. I was thrilled! I had been through significantly less pain than with my early labor with Dagmar, but was further progressed. I was on a CTG for a while, and everything looked normal. The midwife said it was early labor and I should try walking around for an hour or so to see if I can get things going. There are some nice walking paths on the hospital grounds, so we bought some sandwiches on the way down and then went out there and walked around a bit.

I asked Thomas to take a picture of me while I could still smile, so he pulled out the camera and realized the Memory Stick wasn’t in it! He bussed back for it and I kept walking around until he got back. We got my picture and then we headed back inside.

The same midwife checked me again, and said I was a bit more than 3, but I hadn’t changed much. I was still thrilled with this because I was progressing on my own and still feeling good. I was really irritated when she said, “you’ve just forgotten how much it has to hurt before they start working.” Firstly, it hurt way more last time and they still weren’t working. Secondly, I never said I was expecting more than I was getting. I came in because I was specifically told to! Not because I thought I’d be 10 cm after walking for an hour!

I was put on a CTG again and everything was still normal. There was a shift change and I was glad to see Ms. Killjoy go, but it took a long time for someone else to come in. We were wondering if we had been forgotten, but finally someone came. I hadn’t dilated more, so she suggested more walking around. We walked to the city center, had dinner, and walked back to the hospital. I had dilated a bit, but it was still very slow and the contractions were not strong. The midwife said we were basically just waiting for it to take off, so if we would rather wait at home, we could. I figured I had a better chance at getting a bit of sleep in my own bed, so home we went.

We watched some Veronica Mars and then settled down for some sleep. When I woke up again, the contractions were definitely stronger, I felt so well-rested, I thought it must have been a long time, but I’d only been asleep for about an hour and a half! We timed my contractions for a bit and called the fødemodtagelse with an update to how things were going. They said it was up to me if I wanted to come in. I knew I would want pain relief soon, because the contractions were already requiring a lot of effort to get through, so I wanted to go in. We called a taxi this time.

About the same time I got there, another woman came in being pushed in a wheelchair and breathing heavily. Several people ran to her right away, and someone asked me if it was ok for them to see her first. I nodded. It felt like forever before someone was able to check me in. A couple of other women, obviously not struggling with contractions, were in the waiting area, and it was a bit awkward to be groaning and breathing and everything with an audience, but I didn’t really have a choice.

When I finally got called back, I wasn’t on the CTG long before being transferred to the fødegang. The midwife hoped to find me a room with a tub but they were all taken. She said a warm shower would have to do. Thomas held the shower head so I had nice, warm water on my back during contractions and it did help. I eventually got tired of it though, and jumped at the chance to try my beloved laughing gas, which was such a huge help in my labor with Dagmar.

It was just as amazing as I’d remembered. It was much less stressful to get through each contraction and time seemed to go by faster. At some point, I realized it was the 13th, and that this would be her birthday. It made me happy to have a date, even if I didn’t know how much longer it would end up being.

The rough thing, though, was that sitting or lying down made the contractions 1000 times worse, so I was on my feet all the time. The midwife brought me a birth ball, and I tried to like it, but it was just awful. I was getting really tired, but kept standing. The laughing gas was helping, but it wasn’t enough anymore. The midwife suggested acupuncture, and I said I’d try anything. I felt a bit silly, but remembered that the placebo effect still works even if you know it’s a placebo, plus I’d never be willing to pay for it so it was probably a once in a lifetime chance to try it out. lol

I felt her place a few needles in my back, and she said I may feel heat coming from them. I didn’t, but it didn’t hurt or anything so I figured nothing was lost. I waited through a few contractions to see if anything would feel different. I was disappointed that it didn’t. So much for the placebo.

I wanted to ask for an epidural, but I didn’t want to ask too soon. I thought I’d try to wait it out a bit more. I wasn’t progressing past 6 cm, and my legs were more and more just turning to jello. The midwife wanted to ask a doctor if they should break my water and/or give me pitocin, so she left to find one. I told Thomas there was no way I could have either of those done to me without an epidural. The midwife came back and said the doctors were busy and they were still waiting for an answer. I asked for the epidural, because I really, really needed to lie down and I couldn’t do that without more relief. She asked if I could wait until they got an answer from the doctor and I said ok.

We finally got an answer: try breaking the water first and then pitocin if necessary. The order for my epidural was put in, and she said she was going to go ahead and break my water. I would have rather waited for the epidural, but I didn’t argue. The water was clear, I was informed. Every contraction, I took the gas mask, stared at a point on the ceiling, and counted. I was trying so hard to focus on the numbers instead of the pain, but it was impossible.

It was over an hour before I got my epidural, and it felt like so much longer. When the anesthesiologist finally arrived, she kept asking me questions and I just wanted her to get on with it. How tall are you? How much can you open your mouth? Have you ever been under general anesthesia before? Blah blah blah. I don’t care! I know she’s doing her job, but every single contraction was awful and I wanted each to be the last one before I got my epidural. It was even worse because I had to lie down in preparation for it, so the contractions were the worst yet. When it finally started to take effect, I actually smiled. After a few minutes, I felt no pain, just pressure, with every contraction. Bliss! I fell asleep.

When I woke up, not only did I feel tons better, but I’d dilated to 7. Not much, but hey, I was asleep! The midwife said I should get up and try to pee, so I did. While sitting on the toilet, I realized the epidural was no longer working. I hobbled back to the bed and told the midwife. She said she could try to get something to help, but first she’d check me again. I was in so much pain, I couldn’t even feel excited when the midwife said I was almost fully dilated. Getting out of bed must have been exactly what I needed, but it meant the epidural could no longer help.

There was a shift change, so the midwife said she’d just pass on my info to the next midwife, who should be in in a few minutes. A woman came in after a few minutes and shook my hand, saying, “Hi, I’m Fie. I’m the next midwife and the one who will deliver your baby.”

She asked how I was feeling, and I said it was really hard. She asked if I had the urge to push yet, and I said yes a bit. She asked me to describe the contractions and I said “It’s like I have a really, really big poo.” She said she was hoping I would say that, because it was exactly how I should feel. She examined me and said I was fully dilated and the head was low and ready. I could push whenever I felt the urge.

I started crying. I didn’t realize until right then how sure I was I’d never get this far. It was going so slowly, and there was just so much time for something to go wrong, but now I was really doing it. I was having a vaginal birth, and I was so happy!

Up until that point, I kept having to remind myself why I was going through all this. It was so, so hard, and it would have been so, so easy to just cut her out. I wouldn’t have had to go through all this. I had to force myself to think about being able to sit up, walk around, and pick up Dagmar. In that moment when I realized it was actually going to happen, I didn’t need to remind myself anymore. I knew exactly why I was doing it. I think before, I was so scared I’d have that worst case scenario of recovering from both labor and surgery, which would defeat the whole purpose of going for the VBAC for me. Those fears were finally gone.

Fie asked if I’d rather stand or squat or sit a birthing chair, but the thought of moving unnecessarily scared me more than the thought of not being in the best possible position. I felt like things were going ok where I was and I didn’t want to mess with it. With Thomas holding my left leg and Fie holding my right with each contraction, I pushed with everything I had. Fie offered pointers between contractions, and encouragement during them. I hated pushing. I hated it every time but I kept thinking it would be over soon. At one point, Thomas exclaimed that she had dark hair. I tried to be encouraged by that but I hated it so much!

Then I had a push that brought on a whole new world of incredible pain. I screamed. Really loud. Fie said I was doing great and just needed a bit more, I screamed “NOOOO!” I didn’t think I could, but I also knew I didn’t really have a choice. One more incredibly painful push later, and I felt her slip out and then she was on my chest. I looked down at her, and was just in shock at what I’d just done.

I was vaguely aware of talks of pitocin shots to deliver the placenta, getting Thomas to cut the cord, and other mess, but I was concentrating on this little perfect girl on my chest. I loved her huge blue-grey eyes looking up at me. I was asked to push to get the placenta out, and felt a floppy, squishy thing slide out with little effort. “Why couldn’t you be that easy?” I asked Maggie, but she didn’t answer.

I asked how bad it was down below, and Fie said she would need to give me stitches, but it wasn’t bad at all. I was so excited. Just some stitches. No big deal. I’m going to have a good recovery!

Getting the stitches wasn’t bad at all. She gave me a local first and I didn’t feel much of anything. Since I wanted to breastfeed, she said Maggie should stay on my chest until nursing the first time. I held her a bit and just admired her until she looked like she was rooting. I had to help her latch on but she nursed like a champ once on. Fie seemed impressed with how quickly we got it working.

We could be discharged as soon as I peed, so I was advised to drink a lot. A tray was brought in with sandwiches, cake, and lots of juice, I ate both sandwiches. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I started to eat. I let Thomas eat the cake, which looked ok, but not that appetizing. Thomas got me another sandwich instead.

I kept the juice coming, partly because I like it, and partly because I wanted to pee and go home. I was able to sit up on my own, and it didn’t hurt at all. I couldn’t help but be struck with the difference from my cesarean recovery. I stood up, and realized not only was it better than my cesarean recovery, it was better than being pregnant! All my pelvic pain was gone! I was so delighted.

My first attempt to pee was unsuccessful. I was surprised at how hard it was to try to pee. More juice. And more. And more.

While waiting for the juice to take effect, Fie went over a bunch of information and gave us a bunch of brochures and stuff. I was surprised to receive a copy of all the records from the fødegang. We didn’t get anything like that last time. She also gave us a present: a little knit hat in red, white, and blue for our half-American baby.

I kept downing juice until I felt I’d burst. It was still difficult to pee, but I managed. I got dressed and Thomas dressed Maggie. We packed up our bag and rang Fie to say our final good-byes. Just four hours after giving birth, I was holding my baby and walking out the door to go home. Though tired and a bit sore, I felt on top of the world.

Tags:  Birth, birth stories, birth stories on demand, vaginal birth after cesarean, VBAC, epidural, epidural birth stories, 

Michelle's Three Birth Stories and a Molar Pregnancy

I combined all my births together (makes it easier-but longer)

A little history: I was 14 years old when I found out I was pregnant for the first time. I was scared and worried from the start. It was hard to tell my parents and they were less than thrilled to say the least. My parents decided it was best to get me to do an abortion, so they scheduled the appointment. I never made it to that appointment, and will never regret that decision. The father of the baby was now moved into his new place with his family in New Zealand, their native land, and had no idea of me being pregnant. We had been together for 15 months before his parents sold their house and moved back. We promised each other we would stay connected and eventually see each-other again, not knowing it would be so soon! After much searching and calling I finally got a hold of his grandparents, they were able to provide me their phone number :) OH how surprised my bf parents were that I was calling and asking for their son! Amazingly he was there! I instantly burst into tears when I heard his voice. I told him I was 8 weeks pregnant and that my parents had an abortion appointment scheduled for that following week. He said it was my choice on what to do, but he would like to say that, it was a bad idea. He didn't want his baby to killed; he was just 16 at the time. Over the next 4 days we called each other. And the day before the scheduled appointment I stood in front of my parents and said I was not going! And explained to them what I and my bf had been talking about. They were so mad; they didn't talk to me for almost a week! My bf, got a job, saved up his money and flew back within 6 months after leaving, by the time he was in my arms again, I was 7 months pregnant.

Skip forward to the big day!

It was a Friday, my due date was the very next day. Doctors had been watching me closely due to my age. I was considered high risk. The ultrasound showed that\ my amniotic fluid was low. Docs wanted to induce me the very next day. So I went home, bawled, but my bf was very supportive and there for me, as with my mother (who by now-was ok with being a grandmother). Saturday morning came (oh too soon!) and off we went with the empty car seat and bags in the back. My doctor decided to use the gel that is put right on the cervix. It worked well! I was contracting in less than 4 hours. I had no idea what to do. I didn't know how to breath or cope with the contractions. I had not gone to any birthing classes, no one told me about them. My bf tried to help me through by messaging my back and holding my hand and walking around the hospital halls. After suffering from Sat. around noon to 7 am Sunday, I was told I could get an epidural..FINALLY!

I had reached 3cm. Doctor broke my water after the epidural was in place. I fell asleep immediately. I awoke around 10:30 to pain...I told the nurse it felt like I had to go to the bathroom, she checked me and I was complete! I could start pushing. I pushed like crazy! And many pics show it as well, as my face was beat red! Austin Laurent was born at 11:53am, weighing in at 6lbs 9oz 21 in. 36 hours after being submitted into the hospital. I had tearing, due to pushing so long and drying out down there as the lights and the sterilize ointment dried grr...had to have 5 stitches. OUCH! Was able to go home 4 days later, we had to watch movie after movie on how to care for infants, what to watch for, etc. in the hospital!

My bf and I worked around each other's schedules to go to school to finish out high school. We did not have help with child care from anyone, nor did we want our baby to stay somewhere else. We did it pretty much by ourselves. My dad turned his "get away" house into our house...joking that he had 'finally' made me my doll/play house haha. 

Austin Laurent born 07/28/2002

Second son:

I had become pregnant with our second son just 13 months after Austin entered this world. and exactly one month after I weaned him off the breast. Birth control pills did not work (later found out-that was because you had to take them at the same time everyday!) I had been having contractions on and off since that Sunday, he was born that Thursday. I was way more prepared this time! My bf and I took birth classes and knew so much more because of it! Thursday morning rolled around and I felt like doing absolutely nothing. Told bf maybe today was the day and to stay home, call the boss and tell them as well. I was having slight contractions, I didn't think much of them, felt more like hard menstrual cramps, nothing like my first (since I had back labor). Conveniently, I had a 39 wk OB appointment at 4:30. Thinking that contractions would stop since they weren't that strong or constant, we went to my scheduled appointment without the bags and with our 2 yr old son. I told the doc I was having contractions but they didn't hurt that bad. She decided to check me and once she did her pace quickened..she jumped up and said "your 7cm dilated, get over to the hospital, I will meet you there!" She left the room and my bf and I looked at each other like...what just happened! I did not feel like I should rush...I wasn't even in pain! SOO..not taking the docs advice, I went to the store..I was hungry..and bought some yogurt and bananas. I then walked into the hospital 30 minutes later. I was submitted, after a lecture from my doctor on why I wasn’t there 30 min. ago!

They put in my IV (grr..so unneeded) and bf took our son to stay with a friend, and go home and get our bags. I was checked and was at a 9! I was then by that time breathing through my contractions and on my own. The next contraction I had to push--but bf was still not there! I was calling and calling..no answer! I refused to push until he was there, so I was breathing through the contractions...and WOW! was that hard to do! He finally came through the doors 10 minutes later. I then pushed our second son out within 3 pushes! Ethan Laurent was born 10/21/04 at 7:12pm weighing in at 7 lbs 12 oz 21 1/2 in long! My medicated free birth and I loved it!

My bf and I decided to get married and so we did on May 21, 2005, Ethan was just 7 months old and Austin was almost 3 yrs old..he was to be our ring bear...but he fell asleep! :)

My bf graduated HS in 2003, and I graduated a married woman of two children in June of 2005!

Just three short years later, I had my AA in teaching, and my husband switched jobs to work as a contractor! :) We moved out of my dad’s make shift house and had a place of our own..finally! And found ourselves pregnant..again. I had terrible vomiting spells, which was very un-normal for me, but was told every pregnancy was different. I also suffered a great deal with headaches, another new pregnancy side effect that was new to me. After the initial thought, we were excited. But it didn't last that long. At 15 weeks, my doctor was worried as to why our baby was overly large for the age. Two weeks later, I was having bleeding spells, that landed me in the docs office. But we heard a heartbeat and all was well. At 19 weeks, at 5am..I had a GUSH of blood. I cried..I knew something was wrong. I woke my husband up and told him what happened. I sent him to work as I went to the doc office at 8am. She scheduled an ultrasound, and she couldn't find a heartbeat...our baby had died. I was surprised, cuz I knew at 5am..somehow. I went home feed my boys lunch and called my husband. He said he was coming home right away. He found me on the front porch..and as soon as I saw him, we both bawled like babies. Our 'moment' didn't last, our boys had woke up from their nap and it was time to get back to caring for them.

I was given the option to be induced and push the baby out (we never found out what we were having) or have a D&C. I decided it would be less traumatic to have a D&C. Only problem was..they had to knock me out. I am extremely freaked out about that. I have never taken anything stronger than Tylenol. I opted to have a spinal block..turned out it didn't work, and I panicked on the table because the surgeon said I had to be knocked out. He then got mad and stormed out; I ended up going home, so badly shaken up over it all and still had our dead baby inside me. I had gotten a spinal head ache, and for anyone that doesn't know what that is, you have the worsted headache of your life--BUT ONLY WHEN YOU SIT UP--I was fine if i was flat on my back. I had a nasty taste in my mouth. I was incapable of doing anything for 8 days! My brother had to come live with us to take care of me and the boys, my husband had to work. It was a rough week! I had another D&C scheduled but with a different surgeon and out of the area. The car ride (3 hours) to this apt. was the worsted. The seats in vehicles do not lay down enough! I ended up being knocked out, had the baby taken out and they also fixed the whole in my spine (from the spinal block). I awoke up 2 hours later, and I was up and dressed and ready to go within 45 minutes. The drowsy feeling, I hated so bad. And I felt being in the hospital made it worse. I wanted to leave so bad, that I was having a panic attack..again.

The doc came in and said everything was fine and I was discharged. I didn't get to see the baby, they said they had to do testing to see why the baby had died. Our precious baby was buried outside the city where we had the surgery done…and I still haven’t visited the grave, and I’m still not sure why :’( I was back home that same day, I was sore but felt so much better that I could sit up and walk around. We found out that what I had was a partial molar pregnancy. Which means that two sperm fertilized the egg instead of one and the egg didn't split. A rare condition, but very serious. I had to have weekly blood work for 6 months. My arms looked SO BAD that I didn’t wear short sleeves or go swimming at all that summer. After 6 months of good blood work and dropping HCG levels, I was able to only get blood draws every 2 weeks. After another 3 months of great levels I was then able to come in monthly for another 4 months –or until my HCG levels hit 0 and stayed 0. On my second to last visit my HCG levels were 3, almost to a 0!! Yea..so the following month we highly expected it to be a 0. BUT it was at 728. I was so freaked out! I had my blood drawn again the next day…and it was even higher. And again that following Monday, 2 days later. I saw the high risk OB doc, and he said as he walked in…congratulations you’re pregnant! I was shocked…my husband and I were careful! We used condoms faithfully; I used the diaphragm and gel! And I was also on the pill, taken every morning at 7:45!

Birth of our daughter:

Since our last pregnancy ended so horribly, I was so stressed out the whole time. My husband and I were on pins and needles every time I had an ultrasound. But by the grace of God, we found out we were having a girl and at every apt. everything looked great! My EDD was coming up and were getting excited..almost over. The day before the EDD, I walked and walked and walked. Our neighbors jokingly saying I was gonna walk that baby out lol. After 3 hours of nothing and bouncing on the ball and eating hot stuff. I decided to go to bed. I woke up at 3am on her EDD and went to the bathroom. Was kinda wet down there, and thought OH great..I peed myself. Ugh! Went back to bed, and less than 10 min I felt kinda wet again…just a little. I got back up and went to the bathroom, didn’t have to pee afterall. This went on for 3 more hours. Husband got up to his alarm clock and started getting ready for his work day. I told him..I think my water broke. I wasn’t having any contractions tho. So we got the boys ready for school and I called my doc who instructed me to go to the labor and delivery in the hospital. So got all checked in. They checked me and did the test and sure enough my water had broken. I always thought there would be a great big gush..not trickling for hours lol.

I still hadn’t had any contractions just mild here and there contractions. So we walked around, sat on the ball, and slept—thinking I should have just stayed home! Had a friend pick up the boys from school and come and visit me. Around 6pm they left and doc came in and said they would have to start pictocin since the contractions weren’t picking up. AND WOW! Did that work! Contractions started and didn’t stop..I had no breaks and I begged for them to turn it off! After 3 hours I had only progressed to a 4. I was so mad! I tried to breathe through and my husband tried to do his best through my tears, and pleading, but nothing could help the intensity and the nonstop contractions..I literally had no relief between them!

The nurses didn’t help one bit! They were actually asking me to be quiet! I wasn’t allowed to use the tub or be in a shower. I couldn’t walk around since I was 4cm, for fear of the cord falling out first. The ball felt nice, but every time I sat on the ball the baby’s heartbeat was lost and the nurse would come running in to reposition the stupid thing! I hate those belts! After coming in for over an hour, she asked me to stay in the bed and lay on my side, since that was the only position that was good for the monitor to pick up babies heart beat! I was livid! Nursed finally turned the pictocin off and I demanded an epidural. At 10pm, the guy came in to give me my epidural, and during the whole thing I was shaking so bad. He had to poke me 7 times in the back, it took him 50 minutes to get it in! Right after the epidural was finally in…all contractions stopped! Pictocin was put back on. And a long rod was instered to stay next to babies head. Most uncomfortable. I wasn’t allowed to do anything but lay there. I feel asleep and woke up to the nurses checking me!!!! I was a little annoyed..she said I was at an 8…before she could even walk out the room, I was an intense erge to push! I told her that I HAD to push…the epidural was wearing off, and everything was coming back! AND WOW! She kinda got pushy with me and said I just checked you..I told her to check again. I was yelling at her at this point. Another nurse came in, and she checked me..I was at a 10. I was trying too hard to not push and breath since they nurses were saying not too. They ran out to call my doctor..it was 1:50am. One nurse came in with a male doctor…ugh! And said this was the ER doctor and said she had to go get him cuz I was pushing…I didn’t want a male doctor and told him to leave. Thankfully my doctor showed up 5 minutes later. And after 4 pushes, our little girl was out! At 2:09am May 4, 2010, Elizabeth Laurent entered the world! Our first little girl! <3

Now she will be 2 in less than a month and we are expecting baby girl #2, 20 weeks now :)

Thank you for reading…sorry SO LONG! J Hope you enjoyed!

 

 

 Austin, Ethan, Elizabeth and Family dog, Kerha J Easter 2012

 

Expecting another baby girl Sept 2, 2012 <3

Tags: birth, birth stories, birth stories on demand, molar pregnancy, epidural, teen pregnancy, young mom, induction, d&c, loss, unbirth,

Trina's Birth of Matthew and Alexander

Trina’s Birth of Matthew

My first child, was truly beautiful, he still is. Everyone says so,  but to my shame I didn't like my baby, at all. My pregnancy went really well and we bonded while I was pregnant. I didn't want a hospital birth but i was forced into it by my husband who is so used to a medicalized world that he was just terrified something would go wrong and he would lose me; well it did go wrong, but not in the way anyone would expect. The hospital completely did my head in. My husband, mother and mother-in-law where coming with me as I am close to all three and I am so glad they where with me.

I labored at home really well and in the car I continued to progress but as soon as we reached the hospital my fear of hospitals hit me like a ton of bricks and i shut down labor almost to a complete stand still; contractions where right on top of each other but i didn't progress from 4cm. I declined the c-section repeatedly making a deal with the staff that if his heart rates went bad they could cut me but not a second sooner. 64 hours after being admitted I began to progress again and i was moved back into a "birthing suite" but the midwives crowded me, the lights where bright and I was asked by the on duty obstetrician if he could examine me. As soon as he did he declared me 8cm and then despite this progress and my birth plan saying i didn't want one he did a big stretch and sweep in the middle of an intense contraction without first asking if he could, then as i was repeatedly telling him not to he broke my waters and then left. I got off the bed and tried to give myself some privacy but was never left alone for even a second. feeling surgically raped and utterly defeated I dropped to my knees on the cold hard linoleum and didn't move, I couldn't take anymore. After 4 hours like this I felt our baby crown, it felt like I was being ripped in two but I couldn't make a sound. As soon as his shoulders had been delivered the midwife attending me PULLED the rest of him out and cut and clamped the cord and handed the baby to my mother. Who was a bit confused at this. then the midwife Yanked to severed umbilical cord to "see if the placenta had detached" it hadn't and this was the most painful thing that had happened yet (I also have studied birth more since our child's birth and discovered that this maneuver could have inverted my uterus and killed me) I begged for the needle i had just declined and the after birth came out very quickly. As soon as it was delivered I was thrown into the shower while waiting family members cuddled our baby. I still had not even seen him nor did I know he was a boy. I felt weird; kind of like I'd lost a leg and I sat sullenly in the hot water as the apprentice midwife showered me. (They put me in the shower so I wouldn't bleed everywhere) over an hour later they helped me dress, put me in a chair and the family members who had seen my baby before me put him in my arms, fully clothed and said "here's Matthew" We had not decided on his name, but it was already filled in on the forms, someone else had bathed and dressed him and though i was now holding him he didn't feel like he belonged to Mark and I, he felt like a substitute. An imposter. I was numb to him and his cries and all the people congratulating us on a supposedly easy and very clean delivery- I didn't have so much as a scratch even though he weighed in at a hair below 4kg.

On the same day of Matthews birth I got started on e.c. and I got to breastfeeding him really well, people visited and no one had a clue what was going on in my head, except my friend Melinda who visited the day after and noticed i was acting like "just another day, oh and there's that thing in the clear plastic box feel free to hold it" which is pretty accurate really. I had been so walked all over that I didn't even make the effort to say no to anyone who wanted to hold the fussy little creature in the "box" I sat and waited to feel something, we took Matthew home on his third day of life and I continued to wait and pretend that I loved him, i was a good actress other than Melinda who said nothing until I shared with her a little while ago noticed anything and i simply waited, desperate to actually feel something, ANYTHING.

Almost four months Later I still didn't even like Matthew let alone love him. I was really concerned and guilt ridden as i called our community mid-wife and told her, she came over immediately and put her arms around me and cried while i stood numb, cold and unfeeling. We worked closely for a long time and continue to do so today. At six months old I looked at Matthew and felt a tiny bit of happiness and while it wasn't love it was a step in that direction. By 10 months old I really did love him but not the way i thought i would, it's more like an adopted child than my own flesh and blood.

Matthew is now 14 months and I recently found out I am pregnant again though it wasn't planned. It feels unreal to me this time, like I've already shut down on this child who has done nothing wrong and I'm TERRIFEID that I will go through the same issues I did with Matthew. I have stood my ground this time and I am having an unassisted birth, my mum and mother-in-law are backing me up against my hubby who isn't happy about it but is slowly getting used to the idea; he saw how much it screwed me up last time. I know part f it is decision and in the end the only thing that made me bond with Matthew was the decision I made from the day he was born and that first feeling of "nothing" that I would make the effort to "love him" but it was so so hard and i am trying every second of everyday not to worry and be cutting this new baby off from myself. but will that be enough?

 Trina's birth of Alexander

To begin with a bit of history : I had a very traumatic 68 hours birthing my first son, Matthew in hospital I had problems with bonding after as a result of unnecessary interference and didn't want that ever again, So I'd decided to birth unassisted the next time.

Well I thought it would be a long time til I was pregnant again- at least two years.. But when Matthew was almost 13 months old I was in Tasmania for a wedding. Watching two lines appear on a test. An unplanned pregnancy. I had wanted more time than this but was adamant I was still going through with birthing alone.

Mark was VERY unhappy about my free birthing decision and we argued about it constantly until I thought to myself: "do I wanna be rite or do I want a husband?" Deciding I wanted a husband we made a compromise and got a one to one midwife.. a friend of mine already. She knew what I wanted and supported me fully whatever I decided to do. But we also had the back up of a hospital if we needed one.

Pregnancy was pretty hard coz I threw up everyday several times a day and that was difficult. Then at about 37weeks I swelled up and had a massive headache, nausea and aversion to light. All symptoms of pre-eclampsia. (turned out to just be a migraine)

We went to hospital and the Dr scanned me to find I had so much fluid in my womb the baby was traveling up and down like he was in a bath!

My home birth was a no go unless I wanted to risk a dead baby if the cord prolapsed.. so we all agreed I would "free birth" in the hospital so if the cord prolapsed then they could take me immediately for surgery.

I was very unhappy but by now the baby mattered more to me than my fear and I braced myself for the roller coaster of intervention that was sure to happen as the Dr would probably want to rupture the membrane himself at 39 weeks or so to make sure they only trickled out so that the cord would stay put until it was the right time.

But at 38 weeks I got up at 2:03am and sat on the toilet. My water broke.. it gushed. Thankfully most of it went in the bowl. I cleaned up the rest and then told Mark who promptly rolled over and went back to sleep.

Then I called mum and she came over and was immediately unhappy I hadn't called my midwife yet. But I wasn't contracting yet and hadn't wanted to wake her until things where more concrete.
Mum insisted I rang her and so we did and Anne decided to have a shower as did I before she came. I got out just as she arrived and we did a exam and I was 4cm, 80% effaced and stretchy so my body was working it just wasn't painful.

We had a cup of tea and Anne timed my contractions. They where every few minutes but I made little evidence of discomfort.

Then suddenly I decided it was time to leave or stay put. So we got Mark up and left. But the car ride was a bad idea. I was unable to move how I wanted and so it was very uncomfortable.
We had twenty minutes to go when I knew but did not say that I had transitioned.

I didn't want Mark to speed. Anne was following us in her car and mum with Matthew in hers.
I started reciting Dr Suess' green eggs and ham to keep from pushing. I maintained calm by allowing my jaw to go slack and control my breath while not trying to control the contractions.

We arrived in the hospital car park but it was FAR too late.

I didn't get further than the front bumper of the car before I told Anne I wasn't going to make it, knelt down and supported my tissues while he crowned and Anne came to help me as the rest of his head emerged. And then I concentrated on controlling how fast he came out by not pushing.

Anne was one handed as she talked on the phone to the nurses station who where rushing out with hot towels. But he was born before they reached us and so no one ever touched us. It was 5:30am

I nursed him while they got a wheel chair and more blankets and we waited til his cord was white to cut it which was very quick at only about 20 seconds. The placenta arrived 25mins after the baby did and then I had a bath in the hospitals triangle spa bath with both my boys.

Matthew witnessed the birth of his brother from the car and said to my mum "oh look! It's our baby!" He has been pretty besotted since.I stayed in hospital to rest for 2 days and had less than 100ml blood loss and not so much as a graze.

Labor was painless except for a couple contractions around corners which put me at awkward angles. But other than that I did not feel any pain. Only strong sensations

It wasn't what we had planned, but nothing about the pregnancy was either. But it was peaceful and beautiful and I wouldn't change it.

We named our second son  Alexander. despite being early he weighed 8 pounds 5 ounces and was 52 cm long with a 35cm head. Larger than his brother had been on all accounts by 2 ounces and 2 cm for both head and length.

So there you have it. My second birth story.

tags: Tags: birth, birth stories on demand, birth stories, birth on the bumper of a car, car birth, bumper birth, natural birth, extremely long labor, midwife, postpartum depression,ppd,