I feel it necessary to preface the birth story with a bit of background. I graduated from nursing school in 2009. It was a wonderful experience on a number of levels, but one particular area that I chose to invest my time and research in was child birth. It all started when I learned about 4th degree lacerations during childbirth and became convinced I would only ever have Cesarean deliveries. I couldn't imagine the idea of incontinence of both urine and feces. I spent a lot of time doing research on the very topic. I felt it necessary to know more if ever I was to have a baby of my own. I was blown away by what I learned about the high numbers of elective C-sections performed in the U.S.-and the complications that could arise. This caused me to seek out more information. I attended the showing of a documentary entitled Orgasmic Birth and an even greater perspective was presented to me. As a Capstone project, I was truly humbled to spend a month at a Columbia area birth center in the presence of capable and wise midwives. After a rotation in an OB ward witnessing the medical model of obstetrical care, the midwifery model was a very appealing approach to labor and delivery. From what I read I learned that statistically speaking, outcomes are very similar, however, if you choose the medical model you are much more likely to receive medical intervention. The midwives I spent time with believe that pregnancy and childbirth are not a diagnosis needing treatment, but rather they are very natural processes- the majority lacking pathology. The medical model seems to be assessing every pregnancy for pathology from the very first visit right up until the end. Doctors treat illness. Pregnancy is technically not an illness. That is not to say that illness and pregnancy can't go hand in hand. An M.D.'s knowledge and training are truly crucial in some such situations.
A bit more information. My husband is an M.D. I trust him implicitly. He is still in training and will not ever receive obstetrical training, but he is quite capable of navigating the terms and helping me learn from EBM- evidence based medicine. While he is fully versed in care of pathology with medicine, he too, is of the opinion that less medical intervention and more health and wellness management should be a healthy person's goal. He is a fanatic when it comes to health and nutrition. I am working on jumping on board with his strong convictions so we can live his health goals and dreams in our home. I will say I am getting better, but have a LONG way to go. I love me some sugar-refined white table sugar or even better high fructose corn syrup. I can be a truly bad influence. I digress...
With this background, I chose the medical model for my first pregnancy. I didn't have personal relationships with either midwives or obstetricians in our area, so I was shooting blindly. I found a doctor I liked well enough. She rubbed me the wrong way on occasion, but I chalked it up to my sensitivity and an extra dose of pregnancy hormones. She usually took a conservative approach to her practice. If she was concerned about anything, we would look further into the issue, but for the most part my pregnancy went along swimmingly- sailing through the 40+ weeks. I did have a minor panic with my blood sugar, if you read my blog then you can recall my concern.
The story begins about one week before my estimated due date. My doctor informs me she is leaving on vacation two days after the day. She tells me I can choose to induce then or the following week. If I chose to do so then, she would deliver the baby, if I chose later, one of her partners would deliver the baby. It was a tough decision. I was completely opposed to induction until I had reached my 39th week of pregnancy and was terribly uncomfortable and ready to meet my little baby. Given the outcomes James and I researched and a great deal of talking and prayer, we chose to wait a week and reassess the situation with a yet unknown partner. I was still hoping to go into spontaneous labor.
The week passed. No progress. I was still 1 cm dilated and no more effaced. (This had been the case for the last 3 weeks.) The new OB presented us with new information. Our baby had yet to drop and engage. (This was a source of many interesting comments from strangers- all of whom were convinced I was carrying a baby girl since the baby was so high in my belly.) She shared this could happen still or there could be a reason he wasn't engaged. There was a chance he might not fit through the birth canal. I listened to her but quietly scoffed at such a possibility. My mother and grandmothers and aunts have all been able to successfully deliver their babies vaginally, I couldn't imagine why I wouldn't be able to do the same. Well, unless I just had an extra ginormous baby growing inside of me- a possibility since I was a chunker at birth, and my baby brother was even more chunky than I was. The new doctor said that she believed outcomes would be the same for us if we were induced or went into spontaneous labor because she just didn't know about fit- she did know fit would become even more of an issue as time progressed and the baby continued to grow. With much prayer and given the new information we chose to schedule an induction. She said we would know fairly quickly if he would move through or if he wasn't going to drop- and of course the latter would mean the delivery would result in surgery and a C-section. Sadness. But at the time I really didn't think it an option for me.
The next morning James and I arrive at the hospital bright and early. I had been having contractions all night, they weren't extremely powerful and had yet to really organize. I wouldn't have chosen to go to hospital at that moment without the appointment. I was admitted and the induction process was started. IV, blood draws, fetal monitors, the works. Already, I was feeling apprehensive. The doctor visited and broke my water and ordered the pitocin to be started. Quickly, I began to have increasingly powerful contractions. Powerful enough that two hours into it I was requesting to see an anesthesiologist and get an epidural started. (I had honestly considered natural childbirth, but didn't ever imagine doing so while laboring augmented by pitocin.)
With the epidural working well and the pitocin gradually being dosed up, labor was starting, but not full force. I stalled out of dilation at around 3cm, but was 90% effaced. The baby was making no progress down the birth canal, but his head was showing signs on modeling. This made the doctor believe that the bones in his head were stuck above the bones in my pelvis and would not fit through. She visited every hour or so that afternoon and I failed to show much more progress. The pitocin was eventually turned off for an hour after the baby started having variable decelerations. I had to be given oxygen and repositioned to my other side. Somewhere along this unfolding course of events, somehow my heart was being prepared for what was ahead. I had a moment of sincere sadness as I realized I would not be able to birth this baby the way I had hoped for, but tried to refocus on the task at hand- getting my baby out healthy and safe. As a friend put it- I was rising up to be a "warrior mama." The doctor visited again and told me I had 0% chance of delivering vaginally. I asked for just one more hour to see if I could progress. She sort of laughed and told me she'd give me thirty minutes.
After laboring only 8 hours, the doctor was back for my decision. (Although she had told me she'd give me only thirty minutes, she did not return until an hour had passed.) My nurse had been an amazing advocate trying to buy me more time and help talk me through my decision. She was consoling when it started to look like the doctor had made up her mind. With that realization, I too, reluctantly made up my mind. Off to the operating room.
The "Warrior Mama" keeping a brave face. |
It is weird when you are given anesthetic that prevents you from moving or feeling the entire lower half of your body. To be specific, the dosing for epidural makes you numb up to your nipple line. The nurses and anesthesiologist moved me from my hospital bed to the sterile field and prepped my body for surgery. A blue paper curtain is placed between you and the surgical site, so you don't have to see your body being sliced open. Sadly, you also don't get to see your baby being brought into the world.
James and my mother were both permitted to attend the surgery. They had their cameras out and were able to witness my son's birth. My mom actually recorded it on her iPhone, so I have now seen it, too. I waited patiently to hear the cries of my newborn as I felt tugging and pressure. James and my mom were both very excited and I could only imagine my son was out. The doctor lifted him up to the edge of the blue curtain so I could see his face. He was perfect. And blonde! That was something I had not anticipated- but a fun surprise. All I could think of was, "I want to hold him!!" The baby was taken by the NICU staff (they are present at all Cesarean births) and given an initial assessment. His apgars were 8 and then 9. James was able to go see him. He resisted the urge to be pediatrician and allowed himself to be dad, snapping numerous pictures. My surgery was completed. The incisions were sutured back up and I was transferred back to my hospital bed. A mom, but still without my baby. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait too long. Before they rolled me back to recover, they handed me my precious baby boy. What a wonderful moment!
We meet at last! Joy!! Pure joy! |
I recovered. I brought my son to my breast and fed him for the first time. I didn't feel a thing thanks to the epidural, so my first experience with breastfeeding wasn't entirely bad. They cleaned the baby up and took us to the postpartum unit on the floor above. Our nurse there was very friendly. Since our son was without a name, she weighed in on the baby's name, as we found many of the nurses were eager to do. I was visited by a lactation consultant and she helped me learn a few basic things about breastfeeding. James and I took turns holding our little boy and giggling with amazement.
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Snuggling with my baby boy. |
In that moment we experienced an overwhelming feeling of joy and relief. Our son was born and he was healthy and I was healthy. There was also a great deal of sadness. I very much had wanted to avoid surgery. I didn't want a prolonged recovery- I was ready to be mobile again, and soon. I also felt I had missed out on some right of passage- birthing my baby was something I honestly wanted to experience, no matter how painful others said it would be. I think James and I spent some time grieving the loss of what we had hoped my labor and delivery to be. We had felt powerless when speaking with the new O.B. She didn't explain to us the necessity of the surgery in terms that had convinced me it was truly necessary. I felt rushed. However, I must tell you, God was there in the midst of the situation.
As my son was delivered it was discovered that he had a double nuchal cord. (His umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck twice.) This could have been the very thing preventing him from coming through the birth canal. It could have also been very dangerous to him had he descended. While many doctors are well equipped to manage such a situation, and many of the situations turn out fine, there are a few that don't turn out well. Some even result in still births. That makes my heart sink just mentioning the possibility. I may not have liked exactly how the entire situation played out, the way I was communicated with, etc., but I am so thankful for my son. He is healthy. He is alive. I am choosing to believe God allowed intervention that we didn't even know was necessary to save our baby boy's life. That may not be exactly the case, but I do know God was watching over us. He protected me and my son.
I will heal and recover from the incision in my abdomen. I will hopefully get a second chance to birth my baby in the way I hope to (sans surgical intervention). I will have the knowledge of God's goodness and grace written ever more deeply on my heart. As I hold my son in my arms, hear his cries and change his dirty diapers I will rejoice in the precious gift I have been given.