Category Archives: Birth Story

Babies And Junk….A Serious Post. Seriously.

I am pretty sure I have started to write this post about ten different times since I had Lillienne. I did post her birth story on this blog, but I’ll be honest and admit I tried to add some a lot of humor to the post, maybe to tell myself it really wasn’t so bad, and to tell others it wasn’t so bad. But, it was nothing like I imagined, and I feel the what ifs coming on again stronger than ever, and the NEED to read as much as I can get my sticky hands on about birth, VBACS and c sections as the fiance and I hit a point in our lives where a second pregnancy is something we talk about frequently.

I wasnt even aware that the subject of cesarean sections were written about so extensively. Or rather, women’s c-section stories. Obviously I did a bit of reading up on the subject (ie: Google) while I was pregnant, in case it were to come up. Guess what? It came up. But I didnt research it so much as I could or should have, and I didn’t take anything with me but the knowledge of  “If something happens, there is an alternative way they can get my baby out.”  As I do more reading and research, it’s discouraging to think that perhaps I didnt do as much as I could have to avoid a CS and to have an easier, less traumatic labour and birth experience.

We’re planning on getting pregnant soon. After the wedding. And I’m terrified of getting pregnant and having another c section and/or a VBAC (Vaginal Birth After C-Section).  Or attempting a VBAC only to have another c-section, going through all the work of labour only to be cut open.

I don’t think the seriousness really sunk in until several months after birth, but I had an awful labour and delivery. None if it was magical, a lot of it is a blur, I felt drugged up and weak and useless the whole time, and of course the whopper; a failure at the end when I couldnt do what women are supposed to do: grunt and moan and WORK to get their babies out. I tried, but it wouldnt happen.

And then I started thinking about it. A lot. All these feelings started popping up. Feelings like failure. The feeling that I missed that special moment of the Dr plopping a wet baby on my chest and me going “HOLY SHIT!” in my head. Instead, I was numb from my boobs down on a surgical table, shaking like a LUNATIC because I was already in transition and had gone through labour only to be cut open, and when they first took her out I just remember lying there, wanting to throw up, scream and jump up at the same time and SEE HER. I couldn’t even hold her until I was in recovery, and even then I was so messed up on drugs that the moment as I remember it is absolutely NOTHING like it should have been. I felt like the odds had been stacked against me, and maybe it wasn’t my bodies fault. Maybe it could have been prevented.

What if I hadn’t been induced? What if I had waited a few more days, refusing induction 10 days after my due date? Why couldn’t have I been more patient, assertive, and knowledgeable about what my options were? What if I had said no to all the medical interventions, like induction and having my water broken? What if I had hired a midwife or a doula to support and assist me with birthing techniques? Could I have avoided a c-section?  Would I have given birth au natural and had that immediate bonding that I missed out on?

I do feel robbed of the experience of giving birth. I don’t feel like I gave birth to her, I feel like she was cut out of me. I was depressed for a few months after birth, and I couldn’t chalk it up to anything. I had a beautiful, healthy daughter, a wonderful boyfriend, and great family, fabulous friends, etc. And I realize that PPD can just HAPPEN, you don’t need to chalk it up to anything, it can just creep in like water in your basement after a beautiful summer rainstorm. But I realize now what that feeling was, that feeling like failure. That oh I couldn’t do the thing I was designed for feeling. I never acknowledged the fact out loud or to anyone or to MYSELF that that’s why I was sad, because she was in distress and my body wasnt working right and that’s why I had a c section, so I wasnt allowed to be sad about it. Medical intervention had saved her life! But what about the what ifs I mentioned earlier? And more what ifs. What if I hadn’t been induced and just hung on for a few more days? What if I had laboured at home?

But I missed out on my daughters birth. I was there, but I was not there.

I remember my OBGYN telling me shortly after labour, probably at my first postnatal checkup, that I could have another c section if I wanted to with my next pregnancy, or we could try a VBAC. I’m terrified of another c-section. I dont want to be sitting down recovering for 6 weeks again with a baby and a toddler. I dont want to be in pain for weeks again. I dont want to have to take T3’s and not be able to breastfeed again. I dont want to have major surgery. I dont want to have the same experience (minus the labour part, I am assuming) that I had with Lily- missing the immediate skin to skin contact after birth, that feeling of accomplishment.

Ok, so have a VBAC and shut up, right?

So. I’ve been reading up on VBAC’s and hospitals and Drs and I’ve ordered a few books and been googling away again. There’s a 1% chance of uterine rupture during a VBAC., which isnt huge, but it happens, and it can be fatal for Mom, Baby, or both. And tons of other things that could happen during pregnancy and labour for women who have had c sections. I’ve also read that some OBGYNS wont even allow VBACS. “Lets just cut you open, it’ll take 20 minutes, I can fit you in after my tuna sandwich this afternoon.” I’ve been reading some disturbing things about birth, and c sections, and multiple c sections and VBACS. Ive been reading some statistics and watching some documentaries and forming new thoughts and opinions I didnt even know would arise,  or that I didnt think would be an issue.  I’ve been thinking about giving birth again and this time I’m not going in with rose colored glasses and putting all of my eggs in one basket. Comments are appreciated.

 

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Filed under Birth Story, Lillienne, Sarah

Lillienne’s Birth Story

I`ve been tossing the idea around of posting Lillienne`s birth story for a few months, and here it is. I started this website before I was even pregnant back in 2008, and this blog was unofficially created to chronicle pregnancy, birth, and life with Lillienne, so the birth story should probably be in here somewhere.
My original due date was February 9th, but for all you preggo ladies out there, YE BE WARNED- due dates don`t meant shit. Seriously. It`s just a random day that your baby WONT be born on. Unless by a freak chance it happens. BUT IT WONT. So dont get all hyped up about it.

The morning I went in to be induced. 41+ weeks pregnant.

Anyhow, I was to be induced about a week and a half after my due date, so the morning of the 18th I went in to the hospital with Dustin and My Mother at 9am to be induced. This ROCKED because I waited 3 hours before even being induced in a flimsy gown, sharing the room with another woman being induced who couldnt stop eating everything in sight, opening chip bags and munching and being VERY LOUD in general with her husband. Meanwhile, I was shitting emotional bricks. Finally I was induced with Cervadil at 1pm. I began having contractions right away, but nothing strong. They sent me home at 7pm, after sitting there for 10 hours. Yes. They induce you, and send you home. `Come back when you`re uncomfortable, when the contractions are 2-3 minutes apart.` So, we went home. Try to go about things as `normal` as possible. I was having lots of contractions, but nothing too bad. When it got uncomfortable, they were still about 5 minutes apart, and I went to go have a bath. I stayed in the tub from about 10-1.30 in the morning, telling My Mother and Dustin to go have a nap, I`ll wake them up when I`m ready to go.
Suddenly, I was ready to go. The contractions were strong, painful, and I couldn’t`t walk or talk when I was having them. This is when you know you`re in REAL labour. All of those cute braxton hicks contractions, all the false back labour, everything, that is just a mild dose of a real contraction. When you have REAL labour contractions, you wont be all `Hey! I`m having a contraction, and it feels so weird, it kind of hurts`. NO. NOT TRUE.
I woke up Dustin and My Mother just before two, grabbed my biggest, orange tupperware bowl and a cold cloth for my forehead. I felt hot, nauseous, dizzy, PAIN, etc. I never did puke into the bowl, but I did try. The elevator ride from our apartment to the truck felt like an hour and a half.
Driving to the hospital, the only thought that kept running through my mind was, Ì better be at least 5cm dilated for an epidural.` That`s all I remember. That, and holding my orange bowl.
HA HA! Turns out I was only 2cm dilated at the hospital. I couldnt believe it. The contractions were UNBEARABLE. UNBELIEVABLE. GIVE ME DRUGS, NOW, AND THEN MORE DRUGS.
I got a morphine shot somewhere in between 2-5.30am. I remember squeezing Dustin`s hands, PAIN, and not much else. I wanted the epidural more than anything in the world. Needles were my friend. Please give me needles and medicine.
At 5.30am they checked me and I was 5cm dilated. Epidural time! They wheeled me from my little room to an actual birthing room, where the baby would be born. Not…
6.30 am. Got the epidural. Feeling better. Somewhere in between 6.30 and 10am I went to 7cm, and they broke my water with BIG PLASTIC CROCHET NEEDLE. The baby was still far up. Tried different techniques to bring her down. Stayed in doggystyle position for about an hour and a half. Woof. I had started shaking uncontrollably at this point.
By 3pm, I was 10cm. Ready to push! but couldn’t, because the baby was WAY to far up. We waited to see if she would drop, but the only thing that dropped again and again was baby’s heart rate. Baby was getting PISSED. It was decided if she didnt drop soon, we`d be having a c-section. Still shaking at this point. Getting scared, feeling sick again, and ready to be done with it all. C Sectionize Me.
by 4.30pm my Dr decided on a c-section and I was wheeled to the OR. I had to sign my name in a blur, I was stripped naked, chucked on a table with more lights and things hooked up to me than I was prepared for, and sliced open just above my pubic line. A slice about 3 and a half inches long. Mmmm.
One of the best parts was Dustin holding my hand and crying, saying `Here we go, this is it, we get to meet our baby now..` Another great part was not feeling the pain as they sliced through layers of me, BUT feeling them TUG the baby out of me, and my Dr shouting `It`s a girl!`
It was a girl. A perfect, healthy, no longer pissed off little baby girl. The best part was seeing her for the first time, a perfect blend of Dustin and I, and becoming Her Mother.

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Filed under Birth Story, Dustin, Lillienne