Note: This is a very honest, personal, and detailed story, more for me than anyone else. I am not looking for sympathy or validation. If you want to comment, I would prefer your thoughts and feelings on your own birth story.
Consistent contractions began the night of Wednesday, August 25. I was excited. When Justin came home from mutual, we started timing them: they averaged 35 seconds long and came in waves of 5 minutes apart. Sleeping was uncomfortable and interrupted that night. The next day, my "due date," the contractions continued, lasting 45 seconds and coming slightly closer together. They were uncomfortable and strong but not painful. However, that evening they got worse.
I went to a mother's group, called Birth Circle, with my doula (Cherise) where couples shared their birth stories and we talked about birth advocacy. Then they did a bead ceremony for all the moms due within a month, including me. Each person added a bead to a necklace and said an encouraging word, such as peace. It was a very special ritual that I am grateful I got to be a part of.
By the time we left, I had much discomfort in my lower back and I was nervous. I knew that my birthing time was near. I called Justin to come home from church basketball and pick me up at Cherise's. I didn't want to wait for him alone at my house. He promptly came, and he and Cherise tried to make me comfortable until we decided what to do. Counterpressure wasn't working. I decided I wanted to go home with Justin, shower, and labor at home as long as possible. Little did I know how short that would be.
After a long, hot shower with Justin, we tried watching a movie (Oscar, because laughing eased the discomfort a bit), but I couldn't focus. I went to the bathroom and, in a huge gush of green, my water broke (at least I didn't have to clean up that mess!). The color slightly concerned me. I started involuntarily shaking really bad. We called Cherise and she advised us to go to the hospital. She thought I could be in the transition phase because of my bad shakes. I hoped she was right so the worst would be over soon.
We packed the last-minute items for our hospital bags and headed to the hospital. I listened to my Hypnobabies CD and fell asleep. Justin drove to the hospital in record time: 28 minutes (it usually takes us at least 40 without traffic); it was 1:30 a.m. Cherise got there just before us, so we all headed to the fourth floor together. It was weird seeing the hospital so quiet, dark, and empty.
A very tattooed (guy) nurse checked me in and got the midwife, one I had only seen once and whom I felt neutral about. I soon decided I didn't like her. An exam revealed I was 100 percent effaced but only 3 cm dilated. I was immediately strapped to the monitor. My home teacher arrived soon to help Justin give me a blessing. I then spent the first 8 hours laboring in that tiny examination room in the OB triage because the labor rooms were full. Luckily it had a shower, and I spent a little while in there. I was miserable. I was so stressed and upset that things weren't going as planned. I wasn't using my breathing and relaxation techniques, moaning and crying instead over the intense back pain. I hated being on the monitor; it was so uncomfortable on my upper tummy. Finally a room became available and ready at about 9 a.m., and we were moved.
The first thing I did was labor in the tub with Cherise and Justin keeping me company and a Hypnobabies CD playing. The warm water felt wonderful, and I immediately relaxed. My whole demeanor changed. I can do this, I thought. It won't be so bad. I stayed for a little over an hour and then went back to the bed for more monitoring. I spent the next hours walking around the hall, watching TV, trying to sleep, laboring in the tub again with Justin, listening to Hypnobabies CDs, eating and drinking, and changing positions to ease the contractions, which didn't work much, but I was breathing through them, a definite improvement. Justin and Cherise took turns sleeping, eating, and comforting me. Sometimes both were asleep (not on purpose), and I worked through contractions on my own. I felt very alone.
When we were moved, a new midwife was on duty, one I had seen 3 times and liked. She was very supportive of my birth plan and informative during my pregnancy. However, her character completely changed during my labor. I wasn't sure this was the same lady who had praised my birth choices and joked around with me just the week before. I understand she was worried because my water broke so early on and there was meconium in it, but still. Hospital policy required I be done within 24 hours of my water breaking, meaning they usually start interventions before that time is up. I refused. The midwife respected my decision, but condescendingly so. She and the nurses were not satisfied with the baby's readings. I felt very confused and pressured. Cherise stuck up for me as much as she could although she was disrespected. I didn't know what to do. Justin was worried because of the meconium (his older sister suffered severely because of that), so I didn't want to hold out too long but I also really wanted to trust my body and stick to my plans. I didn't want to let all the negativity and alarm affect me, yet I could tell it was already piercing my Bubble of Peace (a Hypnobabies term for keeping out anything contrary to the birth plan) and wearing me down. I wanted to prove to everyone, and especially myself, that I could do this.
At about 7:30 p.m. I was examined again and told I was a tight 4 cm, my baby had descended to -1 already, and his head was molded. The midwife also said he was sunny side up, the reason for the painful back labor. Why didn't she tell me that at our last appointment so that I could have done something? She wanted to start me on Pitocin to speed things up because my contractions were "inadequate." This news did not make me happy at all. I told her to give me 2 hours to try nipple stimulation and then we would talk again. Justin did the technique while we watched "Reba," one of my favorite shows, to pass the time. My contractions definitely intensified, giving me hope. When the time was up, I was checked again: a "good 4."
What?! After all day Thursday and nearly 24 hours in the hospital and that's all the progress I had made? I agreed to the Pitocin but no catheter to measure the contractions. I only made it to 3 ml before the back pain was too much to bear. I went back to the tub, with just Justin, for about half an hour. We discussed our options and I caved in. I didn't want to continue with Pitocin because (1) I didn't want pain medication and didn't think I could withstand it otherwise, (2) I knew it would probably lead to other interventions, and (3) I didn't want our baby exposed to more interventions. I decided to go with a C-section, since choosing any other hospital route would probably end in that anyway. I didn't want to go home because I wasn't comfortable with that and knew Justin wasn't, and I didn't think I could endure natural labor anymore.
We called in the midwife and told her our decision. She said it was ok and would call in the necessary people. She said it might not be right away since we had to wait for them. I didn't know how much longer I could last! Luckily, everyone arrived quickly and we got things underway. If anything, I was holding everyone up because I spaced out during contractions. They prepped me for the surgery, and Justin and Cherise got in scrubs. Surprisingly, I wasn't afraid of the operation at all; I was very relieved. The local anesthesia injection didn't hurt, though it was hard not to arch my back. Once my body was numb I was in heaven. I couldn't feel a thing (except my tummy moving, as if the baby were wiggling around), and it felt great. I admit I felt a little guilty for enjoying it. It was over faster than I expected. After 28 hours of laboring in the hospital (29 since my water broke), Caden was born 5:40 a.m. Saturday, August 28.
Justin cut the cord and held Caden after his vitals were taken. (Because of the last-minute C-section decision, we forgot about our baby plan, like letting the cord pulse out.) He held the baby near my face, but it was hard to get a good look at him upside-down. All I knew was that he was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen and I wanted to hold him right away. Of course I had to wait until I was all stitched up and wheeled to a recovery room. The moment they placed him in my arms was wonderful. I couldn't believe he was finally out of my body and in my arms! I couldn't believe I had a baby, that I had made him, that I had protected him inside me for nine months and would now protect him outside of me. I couldn't (and still can't) get over how incredibly cute he is!
In the crucial time when Justin and I were debating what to do, I felt good about the decision to have a C-section. But I felt like a failure too. I had prepared physically and mentally for a natural childbirth. Part of the Hypnobabies philosophy is that thoughts become reality (similar to The Secret), so I focused only on the positive. However, I guess 10 weeks wasn't enough to reprogram my mind from 10+ years of thinking I was going to have a C-section because my mother did four times.
I know it doesn't matter how I gave birth. Sometimes I feel silly having these thoughts and emotions. Yet I feel cheated. I wanted the experience of a vaginal birth. I wanted Justin to catch the baby and immediately place him on my chest. I wanted to say that I did it. I am a little ashamed and embarrassed to share my birth story, especially with those who knew my birth plans and subtley (and maybe unknowingly) mocked them and with those who had pain-free childbirths, even with back labor. Hearing my friends' birth stories and satisfaction makes me cry. Reflecting on my own experience makes me cry. I'm trying to come to terms with it and just be grateful my baby and I are healthy. Disappointment is a hard thing to conquer.
I haven't decided yet if I want to go with a C-section or VBAC next time. A C-section would be nice because it's fast and painless and I don't mind the scar. But the thought of being cut open again--although I don't feel it--and the recovery are not appealing. A VBAC would be ideal, but I'm scared of failing again.
Often I wonder what ifs: What if I had done my pelvic rocks daily--would the baby have been in the right position, preventing the back labor? Or would I have given up even without it? What if I had decided to continue natural childbirth? Would I have succeeded or would I still have needed interventions? What if I had started practicing Hypnobabies earlier and with more dedication? What if . . . ?
