Isabela’s Birth , Saturday July 16th
I awoke to period-like cramps at 1:30am Friday morning. I got up, took a couple of Tylenol and tried to go back to sleep. The baby was due two days before and had been kicking like crazy the last couple of nights, but I hoped I could still sleep until dawn. At 3:30am I got up, I couldn’t sleep through period cramps before I was pregnant and I couldn’t sleep through these either.
I puttered around the basement where the birthing tub was, going through the list of things I needed to get ready for the midwives although I was not totally convinced that the cramps weren’t false labor contractions. But they were regular as clockwork, one every 15-20 minutes. At about 5:30 my husband Tim woke up and we started our daily activities of walking the dogs and feeding our animal menagerie. Tim decided to take the day off from work “just in case” and after my scheduled midwife appointment at 10:00am we did chores around the house, finished getting the basement ready for the birth and picked up several comedies at the video store because I read that laughter helped to release endorphins. I soaked in our outdoor hot tub for a couple of hours (it was heated to 98 degrees Fahrenheit) which felt wonderful, especially the jets on my tummy, and then we started watching what would end up to be 5 hours of Seinfeld DVDs. Tim went to bed at about 11:00pm and I did too but in another room because the contractions kept me up and running to the toilet with each one. I just felt like I had to go to the bathroom (and sometimes I did!) and since it felt better to be up and walking during the contractions I just kept getting up. I was quite tired at this point, not having slept in almost 24 hours, but the pain was minimal and I felt good. Because everything was going so well I wanted to wait to call the midwives. Initially I had felt strongly about wanting an unassisted birth, but since my husband was worried about things that could go wrong during delivery we agreed to have a homebirth attended by midwives. Although it was the first baby for both of us I felt confident of what to expect as I had been present during the home births of my much younger siblings years ago.
At 1:30 am Saturday morning my labor pains got stronger, I passed my mucus plug and started to sweat. I woke up Tim and told him to start filling the birth tub. I felt sick and vomited. I was wondering if I was in transition as the contractions got too painful for me to simply walk them off or comfortably sit on the toilet. I decided to get into the hot tub again. I hadn’t taken a birth class (Lamaze or anything else) but I wasn’t worried because I felt that I would naturally do whatever I needed to reduce the pain. I was kind of moaning and humming through the contractions and that felt fine. The worst thing was that I was exhausted from not having any sleep for the last 24 hours. Tim sat beside the hot tub and brought me cold towels and glasses of ice water. When he asked if it was time to call the midwives yet I told him I would rather not. Not to say that the Birthstream midwives aren’t wonderful, they are; I simply wanted to be alone and felt comfortable with that choice. By this point I thought I was getting too loud to be outside and being in the hot tub no longer felt comfortable. I had the urge to pace, so I did. By 3:30am we were in the basement and I decided to check myself; I could feel her head just an inch inside the opening. That got me excited and I asked Tim if he could see anything to which he said “no”. Well, that didn’t matter because I knew she was right there. The contractions were becoming unbearably closer and stronger, but walking and standing was still the most comfortable positions for me. I tried getting into the birthing tub a couple of times and tried the hands and knees position but always ended up standing during the contractions, that’s just how my body wanted to be. At one point I put my hand down there to see how things were going and when I felt the huge bulge of my perineum I had a panic attack. It felt like I was palming a cantaloupe!
Tim excused himself to use the restroom upstairs and seemed gone for quite a while. When he came back he stated “I don’t feel well, I think I am going to pass out. I am going to call the midwives now” to which I simply said “fine”. I realized by this time I was probably not going to be able to catch the baby myself and I felt like I couldn’t force my body closer to the ground to give her a safe landing. I needed a coherent person to catch her as I certainly didn’t want my baby to drop to the floor and I didn’t know how much time I had before Tim was going to fall to the floor as well. I remember Tosi repeatedly saying during the baby catcher class “the baby will be very slippery, don’t drop the baby”. As Tim was calling Claudia, the midwife that lived only a few miles from us, I called out “tell her I’m crowning!”. I wondered if Claudia was thinking “what is wrong with this woman, she waited until NOW to call me?!” and I hoped she wouldn’t be mad when she got here. I never had any thoughts or feelings that something might be wrong or that the baby was in trouble and I didn’t have much of an urge to push, I just tried to blow and breathe through the contractions. Claudia showed up in no time flat and after that things happened pretty fast; the baby popped out all at once as Claudia caught her like a quarterback while I was still standing. My husband did not pass out or get sick. Whatever pain I felt just seconds before turned into a wonderful feeling of intense relief and nonpain. The cord was quite short and I was very grateful that Claudia made it in time to catch her although I still think my husband could have done it had he not felt so overwhelmed. Isabela began to breathe right away and the placenta was delivered without a problem. As Claudia and Tim began cleaning things up I finally was able to fall blissfully asleep on the futon with my daughter nursing beside me. I was very happy that everything had worked out so well and as I dropped off to sleep I saw that Isabela’s head was almost perfectly round, although surprisingly smaller than a cantaloupe.
VBAC at home
Brooke’s Birth Story:
As I first begin to write about the birth of my third child, I do so with awesome feelings about the entire experience. I look back at comments in my journal (breastfeeding provides ample time for reading and writing) and am amazed at the time that has passed--could it be five weeks already--and at the spirit that had been reawakened in me through this. I had noted how at a week after the birth, I loved the way my body looked. My breasts were finally full and round again, after over a year of being lifeless, like half filled water balloons. My belly, of course, was still saggy and you could punch a fist into it as thought you were kneading risen bread dough. But I felt beautiful - more beautiful than I had after the births of my daughters. In order to understand the magnitude of this birth, one would have to know of my past birth experiences.
The night before my first daughter, Ana was born, I noticed that she hadn’t been moving much. As I was visiting with my friend, she relayed a story about a friend of hers who had delivered a stillborn child. That was not exactly what I wanted to hear, but I am grateful for that small comment because the next day, when Ana had still not moved in utero, I was suspicious. After church I called our family doctor and was told to go to the hospital for an NST. I did and although I could not feel any, I was apparently having contractions. Ana had deep decels with these contractions and labor was just barely getting started. My doc broke my water through a closed cervix to try and induce labor. That only made things worse. Ana lost her meconium and further decelerated. Shortly after that, she was born via emergency cesarean. She spent 4 days in the NICU clearing out her lungs. Despite the strange management of the delivery, I felt well cared for. I had a nice private room and was allowed to stay an extra 2 days, to be with my baby, for a small fee ($15 a day). My doctor told me not to worry about the c/sec. His wife had one for their first child and had five vaginal births after that. There was no reason i couldn't as well. That was eight years ago.
My second daughter was born 4 1/2 years ago under very different circumstances. I really wanted a home birth but had no support from friends or family. I chose an OB who had trained with midwives in India and thought he would help me have the birth I needed. I couldn't have been more wrong. Although I had been told my choices would be respected in the hospital, they were not. Step by step, I could feel my autonomy slipping away. I was told to have a test dose of the epidural in case I were to have a repeat cesarean, they would be sure the anesthesia would work. I was make to lie down while a full surgical dose was administered, and was hooked up with all of the accompanying medical interventions. I didn't leave the bed until after the delivery. I had the misfortune of entering the hospital at the end of my OBs on-call shift. The epidural and inability to move about the room slowed my labor such that I progressed no further than 8 cm. At one point the doc told me that if I didn't have the baby in one hour I would have another c/sec. I told him that if he was too tired to catch the baby I could find another doc to do it. He proceeded to berate me with “patient autonomy” and “if your uterus ruptures, just remember this is what you wanted.” I had no choice but to rip out the epidural, catheter, monitor, and IV, and walk out the door, or have another cesarean. The only reason I was allowed to labor as long as I did (about 10 hours in the hospital), was that the OR was totally booked with other cesareans. It was 3:00 in the morning. I was so exhausted and angry (the resident doing the surgery was arguing with me while I was on the OR table) that I barely cared when they handed Lexie to me. The hospital stay sucked and I had terrible postpartum depression.
When I became pregnant two years ago I began researching my options in Davis. VBAC were still allowed at Sutter Davis, but I began talking to midwives in the area as well. Everyone said a VBAC at home or in the hospital would be fine. But I was warned that the tides were changing. I miscarried that pregnancy.
Hurray, In April 2003 I discovered I was pregnant again. I decided to go with my family doc, thinking I could have an all expenses paid VBAC at the hospital, but too much time had passed and things had indeed changed. VBACs were no longer allowed and doctors visits became increasingly painful. It was very clear that I was not going to get the support I needed at the hospital. Homebirth was going to be a hard sell on Steve, my husband. I gently explained that I truly felt the cost of a homebirth was well worth not having to feel abused, lied to, cheated, or any of the things I had with the last birth. It was really important to get him on board for this delivery. I prayed about it and prayed for him. We deliberated, prayed some more, and argued some. I knew this was the right thing for us, that if God would lead us down this path, it would be OK. Finally, Steve felt a confirmation that a homebirth would be safe. He arose from [prayer one day with a drive to get things ready for the birth!
Having Claudia, Tosi and Rachel take care of me was shockingly wonderful. I didn’t have to fight at every appointment. I was never made to feel like I had to sneak a VBAC. And I was never made to feel that I would explode if I went into labor. Whereas my doctor’s words were, “God forbid, she ended up going into labor we could always do the C-Section at that time as an urgent C-Section,” and “I do not see VBAC as being even a remote possibility,” the words of the midwives were reassuring and confirming. Once we had discussed the risks (I had been researching them for over four years) it just wasn't an issue. I received care that I had never received before in a pregnancy and entered labor confident and sure.
About dinner time on Wednesday, December 10, I began having light contractions. I could time them very far apart, only several an hour. Having spent over 14 hours in that kind of labor with my last child, I didn’t take them too seriously and figured they’d pick up after a good night’s sleep. I don’t remember why, but I was irritated with Steve, so I didn’t want to let him in on what was happening. I called Rachel (who called Claudia) and Tosi to warn them and I went to bed at a reasonable time to tank up on sleep. At about 11:30 Lexie came in bed with me. I never really mind when she comes in. She’s still just small enough to really cuddle. About 20 minutes later I heard a “pop.” I really didn’t know what it was. Could something have come loose in my body? Surely if it was something bad I would be in more pain than this. I wasn’t leaking, so i figured my water hadn’t broken. Then Lexie had to go to the bathroom and as i got up to go with her, water ran down my legs. Steve woke up and I told him. He moved faster than I had ever seen him move in my life. I decided to hop in the shower to clean up and to take the edge off the increasingly painful contractions.
Steve doesn’t handle things like this very well. He gets really freaked out and can’t settle down. I find myself trying to take care of him when I’m in labor. He wanted to call Tosi right away, but I told him there was nothing she could do right now and to just chill out. He started timing and they were coming every three minutes or so, but I could still stand and sort of talk through them and things were cool and happy. Steve had to call. I spoke to Tosi and she said to call back in an hour. I don’t know when Steve called again, but I’m sure he didn't wait an hour. I was doing fine in the shower. Lexie climbed in there with me and we blew raspberries to work out the contractions together. She rubbed my shoulders and gave me lots of good loving. I felt really good, and had planned on having her there for the birth, but for some reason, we convinced her to go with her older sister to their cousins’ house. I told them as they left. “Your baby brother should be born before the sun comes up!” Because my contractions were so close together, I figured it shouldn’t be long.
Rachel came around 1:30 and Tosi shortly followed. Claudia was at another birth, so couldn’t come. Rachel helped me to get settled by turning down the lights and bringing out the birth ball. My sister-in-law, Joanna, arrived and we all got ready. At about 2:30 a.m. they checked me, found me a “5,” and suggested I get in the tub. I admit I was a little disappointed to not be rapidly progressing. I guess I still thought of this as a second labor and expected things to be moving along. I began to notice a change in the contractions about this time. They became much more intense, but further apart. Whereas I had started with contractions three minutes apart. At 7:30 I was about 6-7 with a “very stretchy” cervix. Joanna commented, “I wish my cervix was stretchy!” The contractions were working, and they continued to be stronger, longer, but definitely not closer together. Around noon, when I was nearly fully dilated, Tosi commented in my chart that I had done that with only 18 contractions in 3 hours!
This whole time we were all having fun. Between contractions I was totally able to walk around, play dominoes (and beat everyone, I might add), play cards, talk to my mom on the phone, and joke with everyone. (People kept calling wanting to know when the baby was going to be born. Joanna has 2 hour labors, so I was under a bit of pressure from the family. I put myself under pressure, too, telling people that the baby would come before the sun came up, before the kids got home from school, before the sun sets...) It was a very giggly labor. Steve and Joanna kept us all laughing with their rendition of bad 80’s songs. We joked about possible baby names and had a good time all around. I was in and out of the tub, and at times took nice long naps on the couch between contractions. I never had the urge to push, and so didn’t much feel like doing it. I wasn’t sure what I should be doing and was told to save my energy and push only with contractions so that the pushes would be more effective. Unfortunately, the contractions began to space out even more, coming 5-15 minutes apart. Still, no urge to push. I tried a couple of times, but didn’t understand much what I was doing. Joanna tried to tell me, “Push through the floor, farther than you think you can.” I tried but maybe I was scared, ignorant, uncomfortable, unable to focus my energy on pushing. Sometimes I felt as though holding myself up was using most of what I had to give. I slept more, waiting, waiting, waiting for that urge. When was my body going to step up to the plate and tell me what to do? I was getting restless, in the bedroom, standing by the bed, it was cool and I was alone. Things were still not working. Next came the thing I dreaded most in labor, the nipple stimulation. I’d rather get my teeth worked on than stimulate my nipples. But anything, anything to get this baby out at home. The baby’s holding up fine, great heart tones, I feel well, what is the problem...
Joanna and my mother-in-law, who had come during the labor, went home. We talked about transport. If I couldn't push the baby out on my own, we’d have to use the vacuum extractor. I admit, I did tell my husband ar one point that I didn’t care how, I wanted it over. Although I felt good physically, I was emotionally exhausted. I didn’t understand what was happening and I wanted to escape it, to run away from it.
Until this point I had been silently praying in my head, “The Lord is with me,” over and over again. I knew this birth was supposed to happen at home, that it was supposed to be safe. I had been given a priesthood blessing of safety and health during the pregnancy and two during the labor. Now I had a different prayer: You had told me that this was going to OK, that I would be safe, that my baby would be safe. You said I would have this baby at home. What is going on here?
I finally had to grow up and realize that I couldn’t run away from it. I was going to have to push this baby out at home if I wanted to avoid all of the things I wanted to avoid in the hospital. I sat with that for awhile. Flu, sickness, cutting open, vacuum on the baby’s head, admission, staying at the hospital for who knows how long, failing again...
After a catheter to empty the bladder (we got almost a quart of urine out), and a full workup on me and the baby, we moved from the bedroom to the living room for one last try. I hadn’t had a contraction in several minutes. Steve sat on the birthing ball and totally supported me from behind while I squatted. Tosi and Rachel got everything ready for the birth. Still no contraction. Tosi told me that if I didn’t have a contraction in 20 minutes that we’d get ready to go. I looked at the clock. It was 1:20 am. We waited. No contraction. I asked if I had to wait for a contraction to push. This time she said, “no,” and I began to push
Now let me tell you some things I had heard about pushing. My friend Sandy told me that there is relief in pushing. My mom told me that when my brother was born she had a huge orgasm. Well, there was in no way any relief in this pushing and I most certainly diid not have an orgasm. It hurt like hell. It was the most painful thing I’ve ever done. Not pushing was fine, no pain. I could just sit there. Pushing felt like I would expel my bowels and rip in half. At times I begged for a break, I cried that it hurt (they said they knew), that I couldn't do it (they said that I could)...I didn’t know what to do or what I was doing, I just kept pushing. I am a very logical person, I’ve studied childbirth for several years, I’ve been a doula and seen babies born. I don’t react strongly to things. I’m the kind of person who sits back and analyzes 80% of the conversation before making my contribution. I was not that way during pushing. I was out of my normal state. I was loud! I don't think I really understood what was going on. At the time it hurt the most, I was told, “That's the face,”and I remember thinking, “Face, what face? What are you talking about?” I had forgotten about the baby. I could feel a big ball pop out, and it did not even register that it was the baby’s head. I kept right on pushing. Someone plopped the baby on my tummy and I thought “What the hell is this?” I was totally freaked out and had not even realized that I’d birthed that baby! Did it really happen? Steve was crying behind me and I just sat there! With my other babies, it was all surreal, to be cut open and this wrapped up little thing handed to you. I remember looking at both of the girls and not being affected much emotionally at all. This time it was surreal, but in a different way. It was unbelievable - the first time I’d ever held my newborn baby naked. My son, Isaac Scott, was born in our living room, by the lights of the Christmas tree at 1:59 am Friday.
Things progressed normally after that. Placenta, checking us out and putting us to bed. I had collected all sorts of yummy food and drink for after the birth, but we were all so tired that we forgot about it.
Later, in discussing the birth with a friend, she asked me it being a doula helped me during the birth. I said no, not at all. I wasn’t myself anyway during the birth. At one point in the labor, Tosi told me that she could put her finger inside only up to the knuckle and touch the baby’s head. Normally I would know how very close to delivery that baby is, but at the time, it made no sense.
This was not just a VBAC for me. And i wouldn’t say that it took away the pain from the other two births. But it did awaken so much in me that had been hidden for such a long time. I fell immediately in love with the little boy in a way I didn’t with my girls. I think I was expecting a big brute to come out and when I held him fresh from the oven, all sticky and wet, so skinny and delicate, I couldn't help myself. I held his tiny head and marveled at how that thing could have come out of me. It terrifies me to think of how things would have been in the hospital. I most certainly would have had another cesarean. No one in the hospital lets a woman labor that way, even if it is the way her body is meant to labor. That’s the way I do it, nice and slow.
The birth was good for our whole family. I had to totally rely on Steve unlike any time before. He saw me do something he’d never witnessed before and was in complete awe. bragging about me for weeks after the birth. It wa nice to be seen that way in his eyes. My mother, who was terrified, had her faith in my ability to birth restored. (My grandmother did tell me not to have any more children, she couldn’t stand the worry.) Joanna commented on the care given during the labor and how she wished she had received such care with her children. I felt strong and beautiful.
In reflecting on this pregnancy and birth, I am amazed at the efforts and labors of the midwives. The hours they spent at my house, setting up, supporting, cleaning up, visiting, checkups, and on and on... They are worth ten times, a hundred times the cost, and will forever be in our hearts. I will do what I can to help them to continue to do God’s work.
After Lexie’s birth, where I had not been given the time i needed to progress, I used to cry and replay the birth in my head. What could I have done differently? I wanted to get pregnant again right away - I wanted a do-over, This time I still did cry about the birth, and wanted to get pregnant right away, not because I wanted a do-over, but because I wanted to do it again.
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