My pregnancy, this time around, has been SO different from Cody. Being pregnant with Cody was being in a state of oblivion. I spent almost the entire pregnancy unknowing of everything, and just attending my prenatal appointments as required. I read no books, did no research, spoke with no "wise women", attended no classes, etc. Occasionally I got upset at my prenatal appointments, when they would throw something unexpected at me, but then I would get over it, and go about my business. I had NO idea how it was going to turn out. Knowledge is power, granted, but ignorance is bliss...
When we were trying to conceive Brianna, I did not believe it was truly possible. It was 18 months after I stopped taking birth control, that we finally conceived. I talked to the girl I work with, about it, and she gave me some pregnancy tests that she had. I took the one that she gave me, and it came back a faint positive. I went to the store and purchased another set of 2, and took them, and they also came back a faint positive. I remember going and grabbing Jason's hand, and taking upstairs into our bedroom, looking for a quiet place to tell him. Cody, of course, came barging in, excited about something or other, about half way through. :) I told Jason and he was so happy. I remember nothing but denial at the time. I was afraid of being pregnant, of being a mom again, of the chance of being left to raise 2 children alone, when I could barely raise one, the first time around. Jason and I purchased ANOTHER set of tests (this time, the big 'name brand' very advertised ones) and it also came back positive. I was ready to go get another set of tests, maybe the digital read out ones, before Jason stopped me. He said 'lets just make an appointment, and go see the doctor'.
Its hard to explain how traumatized I was by my last pregnancy. I love Cody, and wouldn't give back having him for all the world, but the circumstances surrounding his birth, and raising him alone were very difficult. It was with great hesitation that I agreed to have another baby, at Jason's insistence. I had just cut that part of my life off, and had decided long ago not to have any more children. I never had enough patience with Cody, when I was a single mom, and when his father and I were together. It was hard to see past the financial problems, the lost education, and the lack of reprieve that being a single parent meant. I guess that's why I push education so much, for Cody. If he will just get a 4 year degree when he finishes high school, I will feel that my suffering early on, was not in vain. It's only now that I can really enjoy him the way I should, and appreciate what a wonderful child he is, because of his step dad, and all of his support, both emotionally and financially.
So, for the first 6 months or so of my pregnancy, I was in denial. I felt 'fat' but not pregnant. I felt like my life was coming to an end. I was terrified that I would not have the emotional ability to raise this baby, or to give her a good life. I could only see the bad, and none of the good. I was so incredibly blinded by fear, from all that had happened before. I started to blame Jason even, after awhile. I cried all the time, and would go walking, just because I wanted to get away, to forget about the pregnancy, and Jason and 'what my life had become'. But I began to realize, that no matter how traumatic the birth itself was, Jason is not Paul, and Jason is not going to leave me to raise a baby alone. It makes tears well up in my eyes thinking of how different they are, and how wonderful Jason is to me. He attended every doctor's appointment, never disagreed with me, and as things got harder, after the start of the third trimester, he never once sided with the doctors against me. He isn't perfect, but he is wonderful to me, and I think he will be wonderful to Brianna, as he is with Cody.
Around the start of my 3rd trimester, the nurse-midwife gave me a prescrition mood stabilizer. It gave me just enough clarity in my depression that I started to research the birth, and to face my fears. I had long talks with Jason about how our life would change, and how it would stay the same. I came to realize that the things I wanted to do, I could still do with 2 children, as easily as I could with one. Then I faced my biggest fear... the birth. The nurse-midwife had asked me at one point if I wanted a VBAC and I think I said 'sure' non-commitally. At the time I just didn't want to think about it. But now I was ready. I researched my tail off. I spent atleast 100 hours or more just surfing the net, looking at statistics, personal accounts, ways to make a VBAC more enjoyable and less frightening, etc. I think I must have read atleast 100-200 pages of medical studies (which is NOT enjoyable or easy, lemme tell ya).
When I went back into the doctor's office, I was no longer afraid of birth, and was starting to see it as a very tolerable experience... if I could do it my way. Of course, at the time I had no idea that I wouldn't "have a choice" in the matter. When I talked to the nurse, she was HORRIBLE to me. She said I could die, and that the baby could die, and was so overly dramatic and personally angry and upset because I questioned their decision to make me have a cesarean. It was ridiculous. I left the office crying that day. It hard to explain, but the effect of someone making me cry like that... I just don't forgive unkindness of that degree very lightly. Even now I start to shake and my blood pressure rises if I see her. It wasn't enough to disagree with me, or to try to convince me to reconsider. She felt she had to use 'scare tactics' to get her point across, and by doing so, completely cut off any chance of communication we might have had. She even went so far as to try to convince Jason not to 'let me jeapordize his baby's life out of my fear'. I think that was the turning point for me. Because he did not let her bully him, and in the face of direct opposition, he denied her, and stood up for me. Paul never would have done that. I realized after that day, that Jason would stand by me no matter what, and that I would always have his love and support when I needed it most.
The next few appointments went by in the same manner. The doctor that I saw was much more professional and respectful than the midwives, but the answer was ultimately the same. Get cut or get out. The doctor did say that she would discuss it with the other doctors before giving me a final answer, but I knew what that answer was going to be. In the end, one of the midwives delivered her "ruling" to me, and it ended very badly. All this time, my blood pressure has been going through the roof, with every argumentative visit. On the visit where I met a new doctor, who didn't know the situation, my blood pressure was fine. On my first visit with the other midwife, after the issue, my blood pressure was fine because I didn't know she was going to attack me when I went in. So my blood pressure has shot way up, back down, back up, etc. I even underwent extensive toxemia testing after the first event. There was no protein in my urine, and no symptoms of toxemia other than the swelling. To me, it was obvious that the stress of my visits was the culprit. When I finally said that I was not going to have the section and if they insisted, then I guess they were kicking me out and I wouldn't be back, my blood pressure was through the roof again. I went home and monitored it myself, and it went back down. It's been rising slightly since, but hasn't gone up to 150/100 (been waivering between 132/76 and 149/98 over the past few weeks since I last went). So, as it stands, I am currently 38 weeks pregnant, and have no care provider. I interviewed a potential provider at one point, but she said that due to insurance and lawsuit concerns she would not be able to "allow" a VBAC either.
The comment that Jason made, about the way we were treated was "it feels like I'm Alice and have just fallen down the rabbit hole... nothing will ever seem the same". I think that sums it up. I have spent my entire life believing in doctors, and believing that the choices they make are for our best interests. I have always trusted my doctors, and every time I've had any kind of problem, I've felt "time to go see the doctor and get taken care of". I had no idea at the complexity with which they make their determinations. The way that I felt, after learning that I was "required" to have major surgery instead of birth my baby, because their insurance wouldn't allow them to VBAC, or because hospital and office policy required it, is indescribable. My illusions have been shattered, and my faith, irrevocably broken. You always think that when a doctor suggests a course of action, you can either agree or sign a waiver, releasing them of their responsibility, right? well that is not the case..atleast not the case in my situation and with my pregnancy. As I continued my research, and toured local hospitals, I found that there are MANY things that are ALWAYS done to pregnant women, in labor, that are not only unnecessary, but uncomfortable, and may very well bring on UNNECESSARY complications, slow labor and possibly result in a cesarean. When I asked about these proceedures, the woman at one hospital looked at me like I had two heads, and told me that it was hospital policy and had to be done. (basically no movement without doctor directive, cant get out of bed, cant use the bathroom, cant eat or drink, cant change positions, cant use gravity to move the baby down, can't use a birthing ball or sit in a rocking chair, etc)
So that is the story of my medical pregnancy. I have had a long journey into alternative birth options, which went MUCH more to my liking, which I will share as well... another day.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
A Midsummer Night's Dream
Last night, I had the most incredibly vivid dream. In my dream, I went to the hospital in labor, along with bringing Cody and Jason. I remembered going in, getting triag'd, put into a bed in a labor 'ward' in a room with like 8 beds (4 on each side, each with women, although they were all quiet). Then my dream skipped ahead and I had just had the baby, and I looked over and the nurse was putting pitocin into my IV to "promote release of the placenta". I yelled at her and said "don't you know I'm a VBAC?? I didn't consent to that, that is too DANGEROUS for me!" She just continued, and I turned and asked, "where is the baby, I want to see the baby". A few hours have passed since this dream started to fade, so some of the sequence is fuzzy. I remember seeing the baby, and she was beautiful. Absolutely adorable and perfect. And then I realize that I don't remember the birth AT ALL. I start to cry, feeling as though all of my fighting has been in vain. I get out of bed and stand up and say "where is my husband???" and then "I am going home". The nurse tells me that the doctor is going to want to keep the baby for atleast 3 days. I feel so strong, and I don't feel like I'd just had a baby at all. I feel more as though I've just been through some very rough sex, than the feeling of pain that I relate to childbirth. I think...no way. I feel great, Brianna is beautiful, we're going home. I march up to the front desk, and they have it set up in such a way as though it looks like they could physically keep me from walking out. They don't though. They argue with me, and I tell them that I know my rights and I demand my baby. I take Brianna back to my bed and I get dressed. The girl in the bed next to me says "what are you DOING??" and gives me a disgusted look when I tell her I'm going home, where I can really relax and recover. Jason comes in with Cody saying he'd just had to get Cody something from the cafeteria, and totally supportive, we walk out together.
Through all of this I'm crying about another lost birth experience, and have a bittersweet joy in response to the beautiful baby who's first breaths I have somehow missed. I didn't understand how I could not remember... was it something they drugged me with? I felt proud of how I'd fought with the doctors in order to leave, but couldn't remember why I even went to the hospital in the first place. I looked over my records (which they gave me when I discharged) and it said that I came in at 8cm. Jason didn't know why we went in either, or atleast he wasn't saying anything.
I woke from this dream at 4:30am and could not go back to sleep for the life of me. I wonder what this means. Perhaps my fears are still wrapped around the medical community and not the birth itself.
Through all of this I'm crying about another lost birth experience, and have a bittersweet joy in response to the beautiful baby who's first breaths I have somehow missed. I didn't understand how I could not remember... was it something they drugged me with? I felt proud of how I'd fought with the doctors in order to leave, but couldn't remember why I even went to the hospital in the first place. I looked over my records (which they gave me when I discharged) and it said that I came in at 8cm. Jason didn't know why we went in either, or atleast he wasn't saying anything.
I woke from this dream at 4:30am and could not go back to sleep for the life of me. I wonder what this means. Perhaps my fears are still wrapped around the medical community and not the birth itself.
Brianna's Birth Story
“Hush little baby, don’t say a word, momma’s gonna buy you a mocking bird….”
After a thousand different affirmations, a dozen books on coping with labor and a hundred different websites and e-groups suggesting how to get through contractions, that nursery rhyme was my mantra for about 85% of the contractions I went through. I sang it to my baby, and the contractions always ended before the rhyme did. It was nothing planned. It just came out of nowhere when I was sitting rocking through contractions in the middle of the night. It saved my sanity, calmed me unbelievably well and gave me an almost ethreal connection to my unborn child.
So what do I say about this birth…. It was such an amazing event, so awe inspiring, so incredibly uplifting. My faith in my body and myself has increased 10,000 percent. If I had it to do over, short of having a few dozen warm towels I would do it all the same…every moment, every wonderful contraction, even the almost 2 days of labor. People speak of birth as though it is the most horrific pain a woman can ever endure, and how frightening that pain is. The pain of this labor was so insignificant in the scheme of things. If I had chosen any other option, I would have ultimately had a knife slice through me, a cold white sheet over my exposed body, and a fight from the second things began until the second I walked out of the hospital. If my wedding had gone half as well, I wouldn’t spend the rest of my life wishing we had pocketed the money and spent it on a vacation instead. It is so hard to put the whole birth experience into words. I was in a state of pure euphoria for days afterwards unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I wish I had been motivated enough to write this during that period of elation.
Saturday night, the day after my “due date” I was having painless contractions, soon after taking a brisk walk with my husband. I wrote them off as more “false labor/bh contractions” and went to bed. I don’t even think I told my husband, as they seemed so insignificant. Sunday morning at 4am I woke with “tummy aches”. I had decided months ago to pretend it wasn’t labor and not put time limits on anything until I couldn’t deny it anymore. (I would thank my lucky stars for this approach later on!) I figured that way I wouldn’t start to panic if it took too long. I’d already had enough of that with due dates and foreboding doctor’s visits. When I woke Sunday morning, the contractions were very manageable, but they were just intense enough to make sleep difficult. I lay on the couch and timed them just to see if they were real or not. My contractions were about 7 minutes apart. Sunday I tried to continue with business as usual. I took a shower, took a walk, watched football, ate, and generally didn’t alter our routine at all other than pausing to relax through contractions more and more as the day went on. We had decided months before to focus on our room for the ‘hard labor’ and birth, so we set up the kiddy pool and made the bed with a plastic sheet between 2 sets of bed sheets. (Both tasks that I would appreciate VERY much later on)
Late Sunday night I told my husband to go to bed and get some rest. I promised not to have the baby without him. J After agreeing to wake him if the contractions got down to 3-4 minutes apart or my water broke, he finally relented and went to bed. I didn’t think things were going to start very soon and just wanted to make sure he was fresh when I really needed him. Monday morning I told him that he needed to stay home just in case things progressed before the end of the day. I really wasn’t worried about time at all. Through the whole process, I kept assuming that I had another 24 hours to go at least. We went for a walk Monday morning, and he made me breakfast. The contractions were taking a lot of focus at this point. At the start of the day I was swaying against the wall during contractions, while hubby cleaned the whole house, which made me happy. (When my house isn’t clean I always feel like I have to do something, ya know?) After the house was cleaned and contractions were getting stronger, hubby started rubbing my back during contractions, and eventually I was hanging onto his neck during them and he was reaching around me to rub little circles on the base of my spine. I wasn’t having back labor, but it felt good and gave me something to focus on instead of the contractions. He kept saying exactly the right thing during the contractions. We didn’t follow any “rules” or anything from any of the birthing books (we didn’t even use the birth ball because it was just annoying and uncomfortable to me to sit on for some reason). I just followed my own intuition, rocking in the rocking chair, walking, swaying in my husband’s arms, and he followed my lead perfectly. Throughout the labor I did not panic at all, and I handled all but maybe 2 contractions without problem. Sometimes I would forget to breath, so intent on making my way through them, and he would whisper “breath honey, don’t hold your breath, breath through it, you’re doing great”. Some time after lunch on Monday I did start to say things like “I don’t think I can do this for another 2 days” and “if I don’t have this baby by tomorrow night I’ll go to the hospital”. I probably would have eventually, if things continued for too many days. At this point I was no longer able to sleep beyond 3-5 minute intervals, which was starting to make me tired. I told hubby that as soon as I had the baby all I wanted to do was see that she was ok, shower and go to bed. Of course once I saw her, I was completely revitalized. J Throughout labor I ate every meal, and did not skip a single one, although I started to eat lighter and lighter fare as the days went on, mostly because I just wasn’t hungry. I never felt sick to my stomach at all. I drank lots of water using bendy straws (they are LIFE SAVERS lemme tell ya!). I also walked each day. Early Monday morning we took our last walk before the baby would be born. We don’t usually wander our neighborhood so we were seeing new territory each walk. This morning, we walked past a house with a new mommy dog and her little pups. Because she was let wander and we were in front of ‘her’ house, she almost attacked us. It was pretty comical looking back. I wasn’t afraid, but she was being very aggressive (protecting her pups in her mind) and my husband was being very aggressive and staring her down, talking about turning her owners in to the police, going to the front door, shouting towards their house about them not taking care of their dog etc…basically protecting his unborn baby…just like the doggy was. (The dog was about ankle high at best J )
Monday, late morning, I got into the pool for about an hour. It felt great, although it really didn’t affect the contractions much. At this point nothing was actually affecting the contractions, and it was now just about focusing through them, and not about easing the pain. Being otherwise comfortable, or otherwise occupied during them was the only way I was continuing. I still didn’t use any kind of labor device or strange positions at this point. All I was doing was hugging hubby and listening to his soothing voice and enjoying his hands rubbing my back. After an hour I got out of the pool. I didn’t want to get in too early and slow down labor. It had gone on for 2 days, so I couldn’t imagine making it any slower by choice.
My labor lasted from Saturday night until Monday afternoon, and I transitioned around 3:30-4pm. Although I had not wanted to slow it down, I am still glad that it went on as long as it did. The way things progressed was perfect. If labor had gone fast, I wouldn’t have had time to adjust and prepare for it to increase in intensity. The increase was so gradual that I barely realized that things were progressing. Because of this, even after 2 days of labor, I was still surprised when I hit transition and the dreaded or adored “pushing phase”.
I was in the pool for the second time, just trying to get comfortable without emptying the whole pool onto the floor. I was leaning over the edge and my husband was in a kid’s chair. I had my head on his lap and my arms around his waist. Contractions were coming closer and closer together. Jason was being so great and supportive. He looked at me and said, “So I can watch Monday Night Football tonight right?”. He was joking of course, but I told him in less than civil terms how I would dismember him if he tried. Suddenly, I felt the strangest sensation and I knew that something had changed. I told my husband that something felt different, and I wasn’t ready. This is the only part of the birth that I really lost it. Having never had a baby before, it is easy to compare contractions to stomachaches, period pain, etc. There is NO WAY to describe what it feels like to have the baby coming down the birth canal. Suddenly, after all of my work and preparation, I was terrified. I just wasn’t ready for this. I have no idea why, after 2 days of contractions without issue, months of preparation, and multiple times telling doctors where to stick their “required cesarean” orders this change made me so afraid. I didn’t even think logically about the fear that I was having, just that it was going to hurt and I wasn’t ready. I went completely primal. I was screaming at the top of my lungs, saying no no no I don’t want this, I am not ready, make it stop. My poor husband. I was begging him not to let the baby hurt me any more. Looking back, it felt as though I had completely lost my mind. I barely remember what I was saying, just that this absolute terror shot through me over and over again. Jason tried to get up from the chair saying he had to prepare for the baby, but I wouldn’t let him go. I had a death grip on him and told him very unpleasantly that he did not have the option of moving from the chair. I was on my knees now on the (thankfully) inflated bottom pool and I was feeling the ‘urge’ to push very intensely. I stubbornly refused to push, still in almost comical denial that I was even in that ‘stage’. I put my hand down into myself and felt something ‘squishy’. As the bag of water never noticeably broke, I’m assuming that what I felt was the bag over her head. I told my husband that I felt something ‘squishy’. I definitely did not relate what I felt to a baby in any way shape or form. I gave in once to one push, and pushed only at the peak when I had no choice. After that I put my hand down again and…. The most amazing thing in the entire world happened. I felt her ears, her nose, her mouth. I just cant begin to describe how incredible that feeling was. Suddenly I went from being in labor and giving birth to actually having a baby. It was as if, until this moment, it was not real and she was not an actual being, and suddenly the whole process came into focus and I realized my purpose with a sharp clarity that nothing else will ever come close to. I said “oh my god, I felt a face!”. My energy was renewed and I began to push in earnest. I had gone from refusing to accept the ‘stage’ to saying outloud “I need another contraction…I wish it would hurry”. After I felt her face, it took 2 contractions to push out the rest of her. The whole transition/pushing stage only lasted about 5 contractions but felt like an eternity, all of it etched in my mind. I pushed her out into the water, and caught my beautiful daughter myself. Right as she slid into the water my husband said “ok now breath, relax, get ready for the next one”. My response was “hold on I have to get the baby”. J I laid back in the very dirty water, baby at my chest and looked at my beautiful little miracle. She was pink from the moment I saw her, and made a couple of tiny little cries before quietly laying on my chest. There was a small nick in the cord and it was not pulsing, plus I wanted to get out of the tub asap, so we decided to proceed and cut the cord. Her daddy clamped and cut the cord and took her into his arms as I got out of the pool and into the bed next to us. At that point her brother Cody came into the room. I was surprised but our son was fine with seeing us that way, and he did not even flinch at the umbilical cord or the seemingly large amount of blood all over. The placenta came out (not in the best shape unfortunately) about 10 minutes later and I went in to grab a shower while my husband and son cleaned up. I got out of the shower feeling absolutely incredible, and when I got back to the now clean room there was a beautiful bright eyed little baby and my wonderful family waiting for me. I was checked out by a friend later that evening to find that I did not have even the smallest noticeable skid mark, and no tears or other trauma. She said that if she didn’t know better, she wouldn’t have known that I had given birth because my body had handled it so well. Even my fear of pushing had its purpose…it kept me from tearing or bruising or otherwise wounding my perineum and birth canal. I felt so great that I was up and about (and being chastised for it) not hours later. I could have conquered the world in that first 4 days.
To this day I cannot believe that I did it, that she was born into my hands, out of my body, without the control of medical intervention. When I got pregnant, I was terrified of what being pregnant would do to my body and what medical interventions I would be forced to go through. I came such a long way from there to here. I never would have believed it if someone told me that I would birth my baby at home, with the fantastic support of my incredible husband, and in peace and quiet harmony. I learned later that my husband cried during the birth, not out of fear or empathy, but out of awe at how beautiful and amazing the birth was. I wish I had caught a glimpse of him, so that I could tell him how much I loved him in that moment. Even knowing about it brings tears to my eyes. I have the best family in the world, and Brianna had the most amazing entrance into the world that I could have ever imagined possible. No birth situation is right for everyone, but we definitely found one that was right for us.
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Reprinting my husband's birth story as he wrote it at mothering.com, in the weeks after our daughter's arrival.
After a thousand different affirmations, a dozen books on coping with labor and a hundred different websites and e-groups suggesting how to get through contractions, that nursery rhyme was my mantra for about 85% of the contractions I went through. I sang it to my baby, and the contractions always ended before the rhyme did. It was nothing planned. It just came out of nowhere when I was sitting rocking through contractions in the middle of the night. It saved my sanity, calmed me unbelievably well and gave me an almost ethreal connection to my unborn child.
So what do I say about this birth…. It was such an amazing event, so awe inspiring, so incredibly uplifting. My faith in my body and myself has increased 10,000 percent. If I had it to do over, short of having a few dozen warm towels I would do it all the same…every moment, every wonderful contraction, even the almost 2 days of labor. People speak of birth as though it is the most horrific pain a woman can ever endure, and how frightening that pain is. The pain of this labor was so insignificant in the scheme of things. If I had chosen any other option, I would have ultimately had a knife slice through me, a cold white sheet over my exposed body, and a fight from the second things began until the second I walked out of the hospital. If my wedding had gone half as well, I wouldn’t spend the rest of my life wishing we had pocketed the money and spent it on a vacation instead. It is so hard to put the whole birth experience into words. I was in a state of pure euphoria for days afterwards unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I wish I had been motivated enough to write this during that period of elation.
Saturday night, the day after my “due date” I was having painless contractions, soon after taking a brisk walk with my husband. I wrote them off as more “false labor/bh contractions” and went to bed. I don’t even think I told my husband, as they seemed so insignificant. Sunday morning at 4am I woke with “tummy aches”. I had decided months ago to pretend it wasn’t labor and not put time limits on anything until I couldn’t deny it anymore. (I would thank my lucky stars for this approach later on!) I figured that way I wouldn’t start to panic if it took too long. I’d already had enough of that with due dates and foreboding doctor’s visits. When I woke Sunday morning, the contractions were very manageable, but they were just intense enough to make sleep difficult. I lay on the couch and timed them just to see if they were real or not. My contractions were about 7 minutes apart. Sunday I tried to continue with business as usual. I took a shower, took a walk, watched football, ate, and generally didn’t alter our routine at all other than pausing to relax through contractions more and more as the day went on. We had decided months before to focus on our room for the ‘hard labor’ and birth, so we set up the kiddy pool and made the bed with a plastic sheet between 2 sets of bed sheets. (Both tasks that I would appreciate VERY much later on)
Late Sunday night I told my husband to go to bed and get some rest. I promised not to have the baby without him. J After agreeing to wake him if the contractions got down to 3-4 minutes apart or my water broke, he finally relented and went to bed. I didn’t think things were going to start very soon and just wanted to make sure he was fresh when I really needed him. Monday morning I told him that he needed to stay home just in case things progressed before the end of the day. I really wasn’t worried about time at all. Through the whole process, I kept assuming that I had another 24 hours to go at least. We went for a walk Monday morning, and he made me breakfast. The contractions were taking a lot of focus at this point. At the start of the day I was swaying against the wall during contractions, while hubby cleaned the whole house, which made me happy. (When my house isn’t clean I always feel like I have to do something, ya know?) After the house was cleaned and contractions were getting stronger, hubby started rubbing my back during contractions, and eventually I was hanging onto his neck during them and he was reaching around me to rub little circles on the base of my spine. I wasn’t having back labor, but it felt good and gave me something to focus on instead of the contractions. He kept saying exactly the right thing during the contractions. We didn’t follow any “rules” or anything from any of the birthing books (we didn’t even use the birth ball because it was just annoying and uncomfortable to me to sit on for some reason). I just followed my own intuition, rocking in the rocking chair, walking, swaying in my husband’s arms, and he followed my lead perfectly. Throughout the labor I did not panic at all, and I handled all but maybe 2 contractions without problem. Sometimes I would forget to breath, so intent on making my way through them, and he would whisper “breath honey, don’t hold your breath, breath through it, you’re doing great”. Some time after lunch on Monday I did start to say things like “I don’t think I can do this for another 2 days” and “if I don’t have this baby by tomorrow night I’ll go to the hospital”. I probably would have eventually, if things continued for too many days. At this point I was no longer able to sleep beyond 3-5 minute intervals, which was starting to make me tired. I told hubby that as soon as I had the baby all I wanted to do was see that she was ok, shower and go to bed. Of course once I saw her, I was completely revitalized. J Throughout labor I ate every meal, and did not skip a single one, although I started to eat lighter and lighter fare as the days went on, mostly because I just wasn’t hungry. I never felt sick to my stomach at all. I drank lots of water using bendy straws (they are LIFE SAVERS lemme tell ya!). I also walked each day. Early Monday morning we took our last walk before the baby would be born. We don’t usually wander our neighborhood so we were seeing new territory each walk. This morning, we walked past a house with a new mommy dog and her little pups. Because she was let wander and we were in front of ‘her’ house, she almost attacked us. It was pretty comical looking back. I wasn’t afraid, but she was being very aggressive (protecting her pups in her mind) and my husband was being very aggressive and staring her down, talking about turning her owners in to the police, going to the front door, shouting towards their house about them not taking care of their dog etc…basically protecting his unborn baby…just like the doggy was. (The dog was about ankle high at best J )
Monday, late morning, I got into the pool for about an hour. It felt great, although it really didn’t affect the contractions much. At this point nothing was actually affecting the contractions, and it was now just about focusing through them, and not about easing the pain. Being otherwise comfortable, or otherwise occupied during them was the only way I was continuing. I still didn’t use any kind of labor device or strange positions at this point. All I was doing was hugging hubby and listening to his soothing voice and enjoying his hands rubbing my back. After an hour I got out of the pool. I didn’t want to get in too early and slow down labor. It had gone on for 2 days, so I couldn’t imagine making it any slower by choice.
My labor lasted from Saturday night until Monday afternoon, and I transitioned around 3:30-4pm. Although I had not wanted to slow it down, I am still glad that it went on as long as it did. The way things progressed was perfect. If labor had gone fast, I wouldn’t have had time to adjust and prepare for it to increase in intensity. The increase was so gradual that I barely realized that things were progressing. Because of this, even after 2 days of labor, I was still surprised when I hit transition and the dreaded or adored “pushing phase”.
I was in the pool for the second time, just trying to get comfortable without emptying the whole pool onto the floor. I was leaning over the edge and my husband was in a kid’s chair. I had my head on his lap and my arms around his waist. Contractions were coming closer and closer together. Jason was being so great and supportive. He looked at me and said, “So I can watch Monday Night Football tonight right?”. He was joking of course, but I told him in less than civil terms how I would dismember him if he tried. Suddenly, I felt the strangest sensation and I knew that something had changed. I told my husband that something felt different, and I wasn’t ready. This is the only part of the birth that I really lost it. Having never had a baby before, it is easy to compare contractions to stomachaches, period pain, etc. There is NO WAY to describe what it feels like to have the baby coming down the birth canal. Suddenly, after all of my work and preparation, I was terrified. I just wasn’t ready for this. I have no idea why, after 2 days of contractions without issue, months of preparation, and multiple times telling doctors where to stick their “required cesarean” orders this change made me so afraid. I didn’t even think logically about the fear that I was having, just that it was going to hurt and I wasn’t ready. I went completely primal. I was screaming at the top of my lungs, saying no no no I don’t want this, I am not ready, make it stop. My poor husband. I was begging him not to let the baby hurt me any more. Looking back, it felt as though I had completely lost my mind. I barely remember what I was saying, just that this absolute terror shot through me over and over again. Jason tried to get up from the chair saying he had to prepare for the baby, but I wouldn’t let him go. I had a death grip on him and told him very unpleasantly that he did not have the option of moving from the chair. I was on my knees now on the (thankfully) inflated bottom pool and I was feeling the ‘urge’ to push very intensely. I stubbornly refused to push, still in almost comical denial that I was even in that ‘stage’. I put my hand down into myself and felt something ‘squishy’. As the bag of water never noticeably broke, I’m assuming that what I felt was the bag over her head. I told my husband that I felt something ‘squishy’. I definitely did not relate what I felt to a baby in any way shape or form. I gave in once to one push, and pushed only at the peak when I had no choice. After that I put my hand down again and…. The most amazing thing in the entire world happened. I felt her ears, her nose, her mouth. I just cant begin to describe how incredible that feeling was. Suddenly I went from being in labor and giving birth to actually having a baby. It was as if, until this moment, it was not real and she was not an actual being, and suddenly the whole process came into focus and I realized my purpose with a sharp clarity that nothing else will ever come close to. I said “oh my god, I felt a face!”. My energy was renewed and I began to push in earnest. I had gone from refusing to accept the ‘stage’ to saying outloud “I need another contraction…I wish it would hurry”. After I felt her face, it took 2 contractions to push out the rest of her. The whole transition/pushing stage only lasted about 5 contractions but felt like an eternity, all of it etched in my mind. I pushed her out into the water, and caught my beautiful daughter myself. Right as she slid into the water my husband said “ok now breath, relax, get ready for the next one”. My response was “hold on I have to get the baby”. J I laid back in the very dirty water, baby at my chest and looked at my beautiful little miracle. She was pink from the moment I saw her, and made a couple of tiny little cries before quietly laying on my chest. There was a small nick in the cord and it was not pulsing, plus I wanted to get out of the tub asap, so we decided to proceed and cut the cord. Her daddy clamped and cut the cord and took her into his arms as I got out of the pool and into the bed next to us. At that point her brother Cody came into the room. I was surprised but our son was fine with seeing us that way, and he did not even flinch at the umbilical cord or the seemingly large amount of blood all over. The placenta came out (not in the best shape unfortunately) about 10 minutes later and I went in to grab a shower while my husband and son cleaned up. I got out of the shower feeling absolutely incredible, and when I got back to the now clean room there was a beautiful bright eyed little baby and my wonderful family waiting for me. I was checked out by a friend later that evening to find that I did not have even the smallest noticeable skid mark, and no tears or other trauma. She said that if she didn’t know better, she wouldn’t have known that I had given birth because my body had handled it so well. Even my fear of pushing had its purpose…it kept me from tearing or bruising or otherwise wounding my perineum and birth canal. I felt so great that I was up and about (and being chastised for it) not hours later. I could have conquered the world in that first 4 days.
To this day I cannot believe that I did it, that she was born into my hands, out of my body, without the control of medical intervention. When I got pregnant, I was terrified of what being pregnant would do to my body and what medical interventions I would be forced to go through. I came such a long way from there to here. I never would have believed it if someone told me that I would birth my baby at home, with the fantastic support of my incredible husband, and in peace and quiet harmony. I learned later that my husband cried during the birth, not out of fear or empathy, but out of awe at how beautiful and amazing the birth was. I wish I had caught a glimpse of him, so that I could tell him how much I loved him in that moment. Even knowing about it brings tears to my eyes. I have the best family in the world, and Brianna had the most amazing entrance into the world that I could have ever imagined possible. No birth situation is right for everyone, but we definitely found one that was right for us.
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Reprinting my husband's birth story as he wrote it at mothering.com, in the weeks after our daughter's arrival.
Our Birth Story
I've been thinking about this for a while now, and I think I'll finally write some of this down. My baby girl Brianna Elizabeth was born on Oct 10th and it was simply amazing, however I'm sure everyone says that but the journey we took to get there is extraordinary.
Brianna was my dw's 2nd child her first was born 10 years ago via c-section due to toxemia. The doctor then told her she would never have any problems having natural birth later in life, but little did she know then what would happen this time around. When we found out we were pregnant we looked around and found what we thought was the best OB/GYN in town for prenatal care. When they found out her previous birth was a c-section they informed us that we could look into a VBAC, which they supported. Not knowing what a VBAC was we hit the net and researched and figured out that hey this doesn't sound so bad, and let them know we wanted to do it.
Now at this point my dw started to relate that one of the biggest fears she had about being pregnant was having another c-section. Her previous one was horrible, got infected and all she remembers about the first 3 months of her son's life was feeling pain and being miserable. I 100% absolutely supported her for a VBAC, and then the worst news possible hit us. Florida only requires hospitals and doctors to retain their medical records for 7 years (our son is 10), and our current OB/GYN could not get the surgical records to prove what kind of uterine cut my dw had. Now the problem was that without the records the doctors just assumed it was a classic T-cut (which hasn't been used in 20 years...) and thus refused to do a VBAC.
So, what at first was positive assurance that a VBAC was possible quickly turned into "Have a c-section or you and your baby will die." (That’s a direct quote from the midwife and the doctor; the same two who promised a VBAC was possible in the first place!). My wife was mortified, and she had 6 months to go. With no where else to turn she hit the internet to research what the doctors were talking about, and ran into a group call ICAN (International Cesarean Awareness Network) which I believe saved her life, well at least her sanity.
Through ICAN we discovered that not only was the doctors lying about the risks, they were doing so to protect their own self-interests. At that point I was open to alternative solutions that didn’t include someone who wanted to potentially hurt my wife and child just so their insurance company can sleep better at night. We started to look into a midwife/doula for a homebirth, but ran right into the South Carolina medical system. See, here in SC a VBAC is considered a high-risk birth and because of this midwives are not allowed to assist them at risk of losing their license and or jail time.
So we couldn’t get a midwife to help us, and the OB/GYN were threatening us with claims of death every time we walked in the door. Needless to say our prenatal visits were miserable and my dw’s blood pressure shot through the roof and this was a major problem considering her toxemia from before. Thankfully the folks over at ICAN suggested taking some supplements and drinking Red Raspberry Leaf tea. This stabilized her BP, and she only felt a few effects at the very end of the pregnancy.
So we continued the prenatal care just to CYA incase anything really did go wrong during the pregnancy, but we began to plan for an unassisted homebirth. We got the kit, read the books, bought a kiddie pool and sat through probably 100 or so of those Birth shows. I really didn’t like those birth shows because I wanted the birth of my daughter to be special and not just another birth I got to see. I knew what to do, and we planned out the trip to a hospital incase anything went wrong. Thankfully we found a midwife who agreed to examine my dw before and after the birth, but naturally couldn’t be there during the process.
So on Sunday at about 2am my dw felt the first real contractions (I was asleep, go Dad!). We had a normal day on Sunday watching Football like we always do and did some walking around. We kinda knew this was it; we were finally on our way. We started to use the heart monitor about every hour or so and Brianna was doing great, and my dw’s bp was keeping steady but still a little high.
Monday rolled around and my poor dw at this point was up and down all night because of contractions. When the 24-hour mark hit we joked that if we were in a hospital the doctors would be sharpening their knives right about now. I took this as a cue to start getting the pool ready, and going through the birth kit and running around trying to find something to do. We went for another walk in the morning, had a light breakfast and at about noon the first hardcore contractions hit. These were the ones that she couldn’t talk through anymore.
She got into the pool after about an hour of hard labor, but it wasn’t time yet and we heard that getting in a pool too early could prolong labor, and that wasn’t anything at this point my dw wanted to do. So out of the pool and I just helped her find some sort of position around the house that was comfortable. My biggest priority at this point was making sure she breathed through the contractions, and getting her water to sip on. At about 3:30pm we moved back into the pool because the contracts were really hurting her now, and the water helped a lot.
This was the final hour now, and my dw started to scream through contractions. She tried to check herself but really couldn’t tell what was what, but we assumed something was happening. About 4:00 a really hard contraction hit her, and she said “wow, what an odd feeling, I’ve never felt this before” which translated into baby was going into transition. This was it, baby was coming and nothing was going to stop it. My dw was really getting primal now during contractions, and I had all I could do to help pull her out long enough to convince her to breath through them. She reached down at one point and said “omg I feel something, it’s squishy!” and I think this was the baby’s water breaking and the sac was coming out first. The next time she reached down she said “omg I feel a face, her face it’s here I can feel it!” and that was it the next push and Brianna was out and as soon as she hit the air gave us a little cry that turned into a full on happy wail. She was here finally, and just like we didn’t need anyone to conceive her we didn’t need anyone to birth her either. At 4:30 on Monday Oct 10th Brianna Elizabeth was born, an unassisted home VBAC and my respect and love for my wife grew a thousand times.
Brianna was my dw's 2nd child her first was born 10 years ago via c-section due to toxemia. The doctor then told her she would never have any problems having natural birth later in life, but little did she know then what would happen this time around. When we found out we were pregnant we looked around and found what we thought was the best OB/GYN in town for prenatal care. When they found out her previous birth was a c-section they informed us that we could look into a VBAC, which they supported. Not knowing what a VBAC was we hit the net and researched and figured out that hey this doesn't sound so bad, and let them know we wanted to do it.
Now at this point my dw started to relate that one of the biggest fears she had about being pregnant was having another c-section. Her previous one was horrible, got infected and all she remembers about the first 3 months of her son's life was feeling pain and being miserable. I 100% absolutely supported her for a VBAC, and then the worst news possible hit us. Florida only requires hospitals and doctors to retain their medical records for 7 years (our son is 10), and our current OB/GYN could not get the surgical records to prove what kind of uterine cut my dw had. Now the problem was that without the records the doctors just assumed it was a classic T-cut (which hasn't been used in 20 years...) and thus refused to do a VBAC.
So, what at first was positive assurance that a VBAC was possible quickly turned into "Have a c-section or you and your baby will die." (That’s a direct quote from the midwife and the doctor; the same two who promised a VBAC was possible in the first place!). My wife was mortified, and she had 6 months to go. With no where else to turn she hit the internet to research what the doctors were talking about, and ran into a group call ICAN (International Cesarean Awareness Network) which I believe saved her life, well at least her sanity.
Through ICAN we discovered that not only was the doctors lying about the risks, they were doing so to protect their own self-interests. At that point I was open to alternative solutions that didn’t include someone who wanted to potentially hurt my wife and child just so their insurance company can sleep better at night. We started to look into a midwife/doula for a homebirth, but ran right into the South Carolina medical system. See, here in SC a VBAC is considered a high-risk birth and because of this midwives are not allowed to assist them at risk of losing their license and or jail time.
So we couldn’t get a midwife to help us, and the OB/GYN were threatening us with claims of death every time we walked in the door. Needless to say our prenatal visits were miserable and my dw’s blood pressure shot through the roof and this was a major problem considering her toxemia from before. Thankfully the folks over at ICAN suggested taking some supplements and drinking Red Raspberry Leaf tea. This stabilized her BP, and she only felt a few effects at the very end of the pregnancy.
So we continued the prenatal care just to CYA incase anything really did go wrong during the pregnancy, but we began to plan for an unassisted homebirth. We got the kit, read the books, bought a kiddie pool and sat through probably 100 or so of those Birth shows. I really didn’t like those birth shows because I wanted the birth of my daughter to be special and not just another birth I got to see. I knew what to do, and we planned out the trip to a hospital incase anything went wrong. Thankfully we found a midwife who agreed to examine my dw before and after the birth, but naturally couldn’t be there during the process.
So on Sunday at about 2am my dw felt the first real contractions (I was asleep, go Dad!). We had a normal day on Sunday watching Football like we always do and did some walking around. We kinda knew this was it; we were finally on our way. We started to use the heart monitor about every hour or so and Brianna was doing great, and my dw’s bp was keeping steady but still a little high.
Monday rolled around and my poor dw at this point was up and down all night because of contractions. When the 24-hour mark hit we joked that if we were in a hospital the doctors would be sharpening their knives right about now. I took this as a cue to start getting the pool ready, and going through the birth kit and running around trying to find something to do. We went for another walk in the morning, had a light breakfast and at about noon the first hardcore contractions hit. These were the ones that she couldn’t talk through anymore.
She got into the pool after about an hour of hard labor, but it wasn’t time yet and we heard that getting in a pool too early could prolong labor, and that wasn’t anything at this point my dw wanted to do. So out of the pool and I just helped her find some sort of position around the house that was comfortable. My biggest priority at this point was making sure she breathed through the contractions, and getting her water to sip on. At about 3:30pm we moved back into the pool because the contracts were really hurting her now, and the water helped a lot.
This was the final hour now, and my dw started to scream through contractions. She tried to check herself but really couldn’t tell what was what, but we assumed something was happening. About 4:00 a really hard contraction hit her, and she said “wow, what an odd feeling, I’ve never felt this before” which translated into baby was going into transition. This was it, baby was coming and nothing was going to stop it. My dw was really getting primal now during contractions, and I had all I could do to help pull her out long enough to convince her to breath through them. She reached down at one point and said “omg I feel something, it’s squishy!” and I think this was the baby’s water breaking and the sac was coming out first. The next time she reached down she said “omg I feel a face, her face it’s here I can feel it!” and that was it the next push and Brianna was out and as soon as she hit the air gave us a little cry that turned into a full on happy wail. She was here finally, and just like we didn’t need anyone to conceive her we didn’t need anyone to birth her either. At 4:30 on Monday Oct 10th Brianna Elizabeth was born, an unassisted home VBAC and my respect and love for my wife grew a thousand times.
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