Tired Momma

Me! Pregnant!!!!!

This is my first time writing a birth story and it’s nearly 2.5 years after the fact. I wish I had sat down immediately to write the story but I didn’t. Fear maybe? Of reliving those first laboring and birthing hours? Laziness? I’m not really sure. But I guess the important thing is that I’m finally getting it written down! I’m going to try to paint pretty pictures for you. I’m also a huge stickler for details. That means this is very long! So hopefully that’s your cup of tea!!

This is not my ideal birth story. This story ended in a “healthy baby” so I should “be so happy and know that I am blessed” right? Well that’s not how I felt. That’s not how I feel, to this day. I have many mixed emotions about my first birth and most of them are extremely negative.

My birth story begins with choosing a care provider. I KNEW I was going to have an unmedicated vaginal birth. I knew that I would fight any care provider tooth and nail to prevent any kind of induction or Unneccessarian (An unnecessary C-Section). I watched The Business of Being Born, read Ina Mae’s Guide to Childbirth, Natural Childbirth the Bradley Way, Gentle Birth Choices (which was my favorite), and any and every birth story I could get my hands on. I considered myself an amateur birth specialist. Yes I know…cocky, arrogant, full of myself, whatever. I still consider myself that. No, I don't give professional advice, nor do I actually parade as a specialist, but I knew that I knew a lot. I know that I know a lot. I avoided TV shows like “A Birth Story” and “I didn’t know I was pregnant” because I didn’t want to poison my mind with negative birth information or negative birth stories. Whenever any “well-meaning” friend, family member, or stranger (I work with the public daily) told me how quickly I would change my mind once I was in the muck of labor I sweetly smiled at them and told them “I believe we were MEANT to experience these pains and I’m really excited for it!” Most people looked at me like I was absolutely insane and should be admitted to the Psych Ward, not the Maternity Ward.

Well, anyway, I really wanted a homebirth, but Big Daddy J was incredibly uncomfortable with the idea, especially the out of pocket expense. And so I started off my care with an OB. At every. Single. Appointment they asked me the most annoying question of them all: “Are you sureeeeeeeeee you don’t want to plan for an epidural? It’s really going to be painful.” And each time, I had to once again smile sweetly and remind them that I was planning an unmedicated birth and that I was set in that decision. Just about every nurse and doctor I saw either rolled their eyes or pursed their lips because they obviously knew better than me.

Somewhere around 18ish weeks I fired them. I was so tired of that ridiculous question and them flat out not respecting my desire for an unmedicated birth. They were preparing me for failure and preparing me to have to fight with them during my labor which HELLOOOOOO! NO ONE should have to do (except that it happens every single day in America because obviously laboring women are not of sound mind). I transferred my care to a Birth Center within a hospital which was a HUGE compromise since I really wanted a Homebirth or at least a Free Standing Birth Center. I was utterly disappointed when I realized how tied to hospital policy this birth center was. I continued care with them through 26 weeks where I once again fired my prenatal care provider. Picky? Yea I guess I am, but when it comes to this experience you SHOULD be!!!

So through this experience of two fired providers, I convinced Big Daddy J to at least explore homebirth midwives and interview some. To see if any of them were will to give us a prorate or discount or something since we were low on funds and I was 26 weeks along. We finally found one named Jennifer L. Rector (Jeni). She was willing to give us a lower amount of $1500 rather than her preset $3000 fee. We were so excited!! And she really seemed a great fit for our family. Big Daddy J liked her, I liked her, she seemed friendly, upbeat, and personable. I’m not going to go into the nitty gritty but after several appointments with her and a final one where she addressed my husband “Hey Sexy”, I decided I didn’t trust her and that my first impression was um…wrong. But I tried to talk to her and informed her that her candid, uber relaxed, and uber personal attitude made me uncomfortable. She agreed to be more professional and less personal…and that she was. A little to the Nth degree to the point where I felt like we were at a business conference every time I saw her. I was 36 weeks at this point and holy geez my only other option was to go crawling back to the OB office. I was stuck with a midwife I did not trust. Yay.

Me at 41 weeks

Fast forward to 41 weeks. I was obviously “overdue” at this point. I prefer “past my estimated due date.” I guess I’m a literalist when it comes to pregnancy. My baby would NOT be considered “overdue” until I hit at least 42 weeks and then I still prefer the term “post-due.” My momma was around for the big event. I was soooo happy she was there. I was already on maternity leave and just chillaxing, waiting for ma bebe to come!

On this wonderful day, a Saturday, I would have occasional contractions, not sure at all if they were real or the “dreaded” Braxton Hicks. They were quite weak, but consistent that whole day and through the night. I was sleepy. I called my midwife, certain? Maybe...that I was in labor. Or just needed someone to tell me what was going on. I mean...for several hours they were every 3 minutes. That's active labor, right? Jeni came over, looking all disheveled and sleepy and mildly irritated and timed my contractions for about an hour. They got further and further apart. Yay. I wasn’t in labor (sense the sarcasm). And I had bothered my midwife in the middle of the night for no reason (at least that’s how I felt. That’s her job though isn’t it!?)

The next day (Sunday) my contractions continued but didn’t seem (in my mind) to be doing anything. My momma and I took walks and I had to stop to actually breathe through them (YAY!) but I could still talk and walk between and they weren’t that close together. But they were TOTALLY bearable! I was like “I can totally do this!! It only hurts a little! I’m a rock star!” (it’s ok if you’re laughing right now because of my naïve first labor mindset;-) ) I kept in touch with my midwife through it all because I had no idea what was going on. But I was DETERMINED to not ask her to come over again until I was definitely in active labor.

I was having bloody show through all this and Jeni asked me to describe it to her…I did my best. **TMI ALERT!** She asked me if it was like Period Blood, and well…for me it was so I said yes, it was. She got all uppity and worried and told me to get in the car NOW and GET TO THE ER (without getting any additional information btw)! Well, really it was normal bloody show, but I have weird periods. I told her I didn’t think it was necessary and did my best again to explain what my periods were like and that this was not an emergency situation and I was certain I didn’t have to goto the ER. She conceded and calmed down. I didn’t call her again. At some point through the day I called my sister when the contractions seemed to be getting a little bit more intense. My sister showed up around 6PM that night (I think) and I was still in early labor but exhausted because I had been doing these sort of intense contraction thingys every 5 minutes or so for like 25 days already (2 but still…) so she, her children, and my momma went out to eat and Big Daddy J and I lay down for a nap.

Around 8ish I got up and boyyyy these felt different!!!!! But I didn’t know it at the time. Well, I sort of did, but I didn't. These I REALLY had to work through. REALLY. I left Big Daddy J in bed because I didn’t want to bother yet another person for no reason (tee-hee…this would have been the right time). My mom, sister, and her children came in about a half hour later. Big Daddy J woke up and I continued doing my thing. I kind of circled around the back of the apartment through the bathroom, hallway, and bedroom, desiring to be alone. I also plucked my eye brows because I was sure I wouldn’t have another opportunity to do it for a few weeks. I felt like I was in a dream, kind of cloudy, but EXTREMELY vivid. I giggled at myself in the mirror while plucking my eye brows because I was finally sure I was in labor (and I was plucking my eyebrows while in labor)!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! And I was doing it!!!

Me pacing

Course, at this point in active labor I wasn’t capable of actually telling anyone it was time to call the midwife because I was in active labor. And when I’m in active labor I am…primitive so to speak. Some women can laugh and talk through active labor…Not me! VERY primal! Almost ape-like. Anyway, I didn’t tell anyone I was in active labor, but thank the Lord I had an army of people listening to me in the front room! I hear Sister J go “Wow…those are really close together. I think we need to call the midwife.” About an hour or so later Jeni shows up. I decline an initial internal exam and ignore her and just do my thang. I pace and pace and pace and pace and pace and pace and pace. I do finally make it to the living room where my nieces and family are watching a movie. I smile. So normal! I love it!!

Me doing my labor dance in my spot

AHHHHH contraction! **Grab onto wall, call Sister J or Big Daddy J over and dance through my contraction** (and by dance I mean sway, but it was my labor dance and I loved it) Sigh, done… pace pace pace pace pace repeat. Always in the same spot too. If I was anywhere away from that spot where I knew exactly where to hold onto the wall, I waddled myself on over to it during contraction so I could dance through it in that spot. It was awesome. For many hours I did this. 2? 3? 4? 5? I’m honestly not sure. I do know that I did not say a word other than some degree of primitive grunts to get someone to come dance with me.

Big Daddy J excited for labor and steak

My husband cooked up a steak and my sister made me sip water through all my pacing. He fed me steak and my sister fed me bread. After some amount of hours of not speaking, not saying anything other than a grunt, I look up at my husband between contractions and say “I feel like I’m drunk” and went right back to laboring. I remember this moment very potently for two reasons. 1. It WAS the only thing I had said in many hours. 2. The look on my husband’s face was PRICELESS after I said that. And 3. I DID really feel like I was drunk! It was a strange, disconcerting, but exciting feeling. Big Daddy J will still tell you how funny this situation was to this day.


Jackie listening to the babe

After 3? 4? 5? Hours or so I decide to melt into the birthing tub. I think it was around 2AM. I was checked at that time and I was…….ready for it? 8.5 cm!!!!!!!!!! Holy crap I’m so close and I’m going to have a water birth and I’ll be able to see my little girl in just a few hours!!!! I get in and…it just doesn’t feel right. Too cold I suppose. I tell them I’m cold so Jeni attaches this little thing to the side of the tub that’s supposed to heat it up, but only heats up about a 3 inch radius into the water near my butt. One tiny part of my toosh is nice and warm but the rest of me is cold. Big Daddy J gets in the water with me, which helps me relax a little but I’m still cold. And I persist through because I read soooo many stories about how water just DOES it for laboring women. Totally MAKES the labor worth everything! And I so badly want that memory. So I stay in the water. I was determined to find a relaxing position and have the epic waterbirth I hear so many other women talk about. Shifting when I need to, leaning on hubby, listening to the sounds around me. But not laboring effectively. I begin to think there's something wrong with me since I wasn't immediately relaxed upon entering in the water. Don't be fooled by how relaxed I look in the picture. That took a hell of a lot of effort. I tell them intermittently that I’m cold. No one does anything.

My sounds change. While I was dancing my sounds were comfortable, long, drawn out moans with closed eyes and as relaxed as my face could get. In the water….well…Utter terror. Virtual screams. You could hear the fear and anxiety in my voice. We got a few seconds of these chilling sounds coming from me on video tape and I could only ever watch that tape once. They were not the moans of a woman relaxing and laboring well. These were the wails of a woman who's body was being ripped in two, accompanied by pants and moans of fear. The worst part? My midwife was hanging out on my couch like everything was normal. My momma, sister, hubby were all there too but they didn’t know any better. They are not trained professionals. My guess was that they were taking their lead from the midwife. When I think of that moment I want to reach into my memory and slap her. For not being more attentive. Something was obviously not right. And she didn’t pick up on it. Or she didn’t feel like it. Who knows? All I know was that I was COLD, and scared, and in A LOT of pain because I was scared and cold and I was reallllllly fearing this whole process now. It shouldn’t be like this. Even though it was my first, I knew that it shouldn’t be like this. But I didn’t know what to do. Too much adrenaline while laboring = a decreased ability to deal with labor pains. I can 100% attest to that.

NOTE: If you’re ever “failing to progress” in labor, examine your heart and try to figure out if you are fearing something, or angry, or anxious. Is there someone in the room with you you don't like or don't trust? Work to alleviate these issues. Releasing those feelings can jump start your labor again.

Well this also went on for several hours. Eventually my mom went to sleep. My husband fell asleep on the couch, my sister on the ground next to the tub, my midwife’s apprentice (who showed up around 3AM and we’ll call Sarah) went to sleep on the floor in my bedroom, and last and DEFINITELY least, my midwife ALSO went to sleep on MY floor in MY bedroom. SERIOUSLY?! She went to sleep even though Sarah was already sleep? Yup. She sure did. She left the room. And there was not a trained professional in the room. This was when things got went from bad to worse.

I was alone. ALONE. And scared. And cold. And hurting. And cold. And terrified. And cold. I tried awakening my sister and husband, but God bless them, I didn’t pay them to be there for me! They were half asleep and could barely wake up to help me. And I stayed in that cold water. In case you don’t know, most laboring women in active labor need someone to guide them through movements and changing positions. Some will shift as necessary, but many will not. Many will stay in one spot, or one position, or in the water or out of the water unless guided otherwise. And I stayed in the water. And labored painfully. And thought about how awful this was. And that this thing called transition was death. Actual death. I knew I was dying and yet I’d never felt more alive because people can’t hate someone so passionately when they’re dying, right? I hated my midwife with every ounce of labor energy pouring out of my body. And then, in those moments, I vowed that I was definitely not going to push since the ring of fire was awful right? Burning death or something like that? I’m sure it’s worse than this. And I effectively stopped ALL progression of my body. Sure, I was still having contractions, but they were definitely not doing anything and I KNOW they got further and further apart.

Around…6 AM ish? (It's Monday morning now btw) Jeni woke up after her little beauty rest and came to talk to me. “Katie, I’m worried. I think there’s something wrong. You’re still at 8.5 cm and there’s something wrong. I think we need to goto the hospital.” I’m tired. And exhausted. And PISSED. And hateful. But I did not tell her this. Instead, I tell her “I’m scared. I’m scared of pushing.” So she tells me “No!! It feels good to push!” And my sister agrees and nods excitedly. So I extract that particular fear out of my mind. It’s gone and now all I want to do is push.

Sarah wakes up around that time too and realizes that my laboring sounds aren’t right (or maybe she helped me with this right when she got there around 3AM...honestly can't remember at this point). With all the fear and anxiety in my system, the closest thing we can get to a good laboring sound is similar to a gorilla mating call, or at least what I imagine it would sound like. She gets in my face and helps me breathe. Jeni FINALLY makes me get out of the water. I lay on the couch, sit indian style on the floor, get in the shower, lay on my bed…ya know, I move around like NORMAL when a laboring woman actually has some guidance.

Around 8:15AM I’m still 8.5 cm so my midwife calls ANOTHER midwife because she doesn’t know what to do when a woman is no longer progressing other than assume something is wrong. The proper mindset? Something isn't working and something needs to change, not something is wrong. Now, I suppose maybe this is somewhat normal, but shouldn’t she know what to do? I feel like she should. This makes me hate her more. They start alternating blue and black Cohosh and break my waters to strengthen the contractions. It worked. Around 8:30-8:45 I thought I wanted to push. At this point, I’m honestly not sure if I (1) really needed to push, (2) thought I really needed to push, or (3) convinced myself I needed to push to end this miserable tirade of what seemed to be one of the most excruciating labors I’d ever come across in any of my reading or discussing with other women. I really do think it was somewhere between the 2^nd and 3^rd option. I also think my darling baby was finally descending the canal and I felt a little pressure. So they told me to push if I needed to.

So I pushed. I pushed and pushed for about 5-10 minutes and then I realized…this isn’t right. Don’t know how I knew, but I knew. So I asked Sarah to check me and I was still only 8.5 cm. But she informed me that it’s not uncommon for some women to be ready to push at that dilation. At this point someone had finally put a pot of boiling water in the birthing tub and it was a comfortable temperature again. I got in and she had me assume a position similar to an inclined lithotomy so she could try to move my cervix out of the way while I pushed. She instructed me exactly where to put all my energy and how to make only a little sound to ensure that energy was directed DOWN. And I pushed. And she said “STOP!” One of the lips of my cervix had swollen greatly under the pressure of my unfortunately unnecessary pushing. You have GOT to be kidding me.

And now it goes from worse to absolute terror in every moment. I was not allowed to push. At this point, I actually couldn’t NOT push. I was there. My uterus was telling me that my baby was ready to come out, but my cervix was not prepared. And I had to not push. They informed me that if I pushed I could rip my cervix and severely injure myself possibly preventing any future vaginal births. That was enough for me to somehow not push. I don’t know how I did it. I did that for about 5 hours. I suppose the knowledge that I could injure myself, my daughter, and every future birth experience made my mind VERY strong and powerful and controlling of my body. They had me lay on either side for 3 contractions, switch, repeat. Back in the shower with hubby. Lay on the bed again. They fed me some food. Peanut butter bread with honey and cantaloupe. Yum! Well Sarah fed me cause she was that awesome. From the moment she woke up in the morning and the moment Jeni suggested the hospital, Sarah did not leave my side. She was so supportive and amazing and right there and really seemed to know what I wanted and what I needed and what I was feeling (to an extent). She was wonderful. But Jackie was useless. All Jeni kept saying was “Let’s goto the hospital. Hospital hospital hospital” Blah blah blah. I wanted to make sure that I did EVERYTHING that I could do before I went to the hospital. I was NOT there yet. I was still successfully not pushing. I had more in me. I was not ready to give up. But I was still only 8.5 cm. It wasn’t working.

Around 12:30, after approximately 4 hours of this, Jeni asked me again. I told her my desires. I wanted to make sure I did everything. I didn’t want to be weak. I didn’t want to give in. And she encouraged me that we HAVE done everything. I am STRONG for doing what I’m doing. And sometimes women legitimately need help during labor and there is no shame in it. And the swollen lip was getting worse, not better. I think it was the one moment I actually liked her. Because she was right. We were there. It was time to goto the hospital.

So we threw together a hospital bag and forgot just about everything. We decided to goto a hospital 2 towns over rather than the local hospital because they are more homebirth friendly and wouldn’t ridicule me for trying. So Sister J, Big Daddy J, Sarah, Jeni, and myself ventured to the hospital. Momma stayed home with Sister J's kids. Jeni drove like a damn maniac while I labored in the car, unrestrained, and tried not to push in the back of the car. I thought I was going to die. It was only 20 minutes but it was, hands down, the WORST 20 minutes of my life. I don’t know if there are any words I can use to make you understand what that drive was like. When we got to the hospital the staff tried to make me sit in a wheel chair. Seriously? I nearly punched them all in the face, waddled through them quickly, painfully, and angrily to the elevator and hoped everyone else was following me. Someone was (don’t know who, probably everyone), and they pushed a button. I think I had to stop twice for a contraction.

When we got upstairs to the labor and delivery ward, I had another extremely intense contraction where I couldn’t not push, and I screamed out in terror, pain, fear, and ya know, laboring stuff! Jeni, the stellar midwife that she was, looked at me and said “SHHHHHHHH!” I probably should have told her to GET THE FUCK OUT at that point, but I didn’t have it in me. Just writing this, I am so angered and I can feel my blood pressure rising. We were in the place where women push out babies!!! I’m certain they’re used to this! And I have to “SHHHHHHHHHHHHH?” FUCK YOU LADY!

Ok sorry about that…Anyway, I was ushered to a room, signed papers for an epidural, declined Hep B and Vit K for the babe at my sister’s direction because holy crap I couldn’t think (this is where the damn doctors get laboring women!!!!). Finally the anesthesiologist got there. Probably was only 10 minutes, but it felt like 3 hours. I got my epidural. I could still feel pressure in my belly and rectum, but no more urge to push. And I was still only 8.5 cm and the lip was even more swollen than before. But I was able to relax. My blood pressure dipped and they gave me another drug for that. I got IV fluids and antibiotics since we didn’t know what my Strep B standing was.

Peace. Ish. I felt high. Well, I was. But I didn’t realize that. I thanked everyone for being there like 1,000,000 times and told everyone, except Jeni, that they were awesome and apologized for peeing on them (cause that’s what laboring women do when they labor). And thanked them for cleaning up my pee.

And then they wanted to give me PIT. I declined and told them, “I’ve been doing this a long long time. I can finally relax. I want to see what my body can do.” The doctor was not happy about this. About once an hour they came in to ask and I continually declined. They got the head of the department to come talk to me. Seriously? I explained, “Look, I am not starting Pit. And I’m not unreasonable. It’s not medically indicated. I am not showing signs of infection, my blood pressure is stable, my baby is doing well on the monitor, and I just need to know that I’ve given my own body every chance it deserves.” Well, he couldn’t argue with me! In fact, he seemed impressed with my answer. So I went on with my epidurally-laboring. I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t. I was too high. And all happy from the drugs. (And sure this sounds all kosher, but I pray I never have to feel that again). When all the nurses and doctors were out of the room I made everyone feed me more food which we know it just a terrible no no in hospitals because of the infinitesimally small chance I MIGHT have to go under general anesthesia. Screw them.

Around…4ish I started to spike a fever. I immediately consented to PIT, which is what I told them I would do. About 15 minutes later Pit was administered. Around 4:45 my doctor came back in the room with his boss all grim and serious. “We are at a point where we need to start discussing C-section. You have been at 8.5 cm for more than 14 hours. You’re showing signs of infection.”

******I nearly cried. The dreaded C word. All hope is lost. My body is broken. My vagina hates me. I had already kissed my peaceful homebirth goodbye. I'd already kissed my waterbirth goodbye. My unmedicated birth was a myth now and a dream of the past. And now I have to send my vaginal birth on a train to What-Could-Have-Been Land?? I’ve failed my baby and my body has failed me. ******

But the doctor continues, “I want to check you one last time before I leave.” Deep breath as I prepare myself for the worst.……………………….9.5 CM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Only one small tiny lip on the one side! The swelling went down! So he instructed me that he wanted me to push with all my energy while he tried to do what Sarah had done earlier which was move the lip out of the way. Mind you I still had an epidural. I couldn’t feel a damn thing. But I had that one push from earlier with Sarah. So I tried to remind my muscles what we did so they could do it again. And I mustered up every ounce of energy I had left, every bit of focus I could gather in my drugged state, and told my muscles we HAD to do this because I was NOT having a C-section. And I pushed. And it worked!!!!! Lip out of the way.

OB GYN pushing welding mask thing

Then of course everyone started bustling about cause it was Zero Hour and the pushing stage obviously needs 14,000 people present, which I had. I had a freaking cheerleading squad with me, which incidentally I loved. So we waited for all their instruments and people and etc etc etc and then the doctor put on this mask that made him look like he was about to weld metal. Did you know they wore masks? Cause I sure didn’t!!! It made me laugh.

Nearly popping a blood vessel. The nurse I almost punched.

Feeling the baby's head...you can see my hand reaching down

I was on my back. I pushed for about 45 minutes. They counted to 10 which made me want to kick them, and when I couldn’t make it to 10 they told me I had to do better which made me want to put my fist through their faces. I ripped the heart monitor thingy off my finger cause I couldn’t grab onto anything with the damn thing on and they got mad at me. I nearly popped a blood vessel in my eye pushing with that epidural. When her head started to crown, I reached down to feel her. It was awesome!! I got her head out and the cord was very very tight around her neck. They had to cut it immediately (no delayed cord clamping) in order to unwind it. I pushed the rest of her out and they took her away. I didn’t even see much of her except for a bloody blob being rushed across the room. 8 lbs. 5 oz. Some inches long. (21 maybe? Am I a terrible mom for not remembering?) Approximately 5:30PM August 30, 2010. 45 minutes of pushing

Lizzy, about 30 seconds old

No cry. A couple gurgled sounds. I’m not sure how much time passed. Maybe only 5 minutes. 10 tops. All I know is that I started to try to rip wires off and tubes out so I could take my gown off and breastfeed my daughter immediately upon having her in my arms. I wanted her. I NEEDED her. I needed to feel her. I needed to smell her. I needed her THERE. And she wasn’t. My sister took a picture to come show me and omg she was so cute!!! But she was really white…aren’t they supposed to be pink? Something wasn’t right:-\

Me smelling Lizzy and holding for the first time.

They finally brought her to me at my SCREAMING demand after informing me she needed to goto the NICU because she wasn’t breathing well. I held her for about 10 seconds, wrapped in a blanket. I rubbed my nose on her cheek so I could feel her skin and tried to smell her. But it didn’t feel right. This wasn’t the bloody blob that I just pushed out. She was too clean. I wanted that bloody blob back. And then she was gone.

They stiched me up. 1^st degree tear internally, 3 stitches. Then they helped me change gowns, pee (or try to) and then a nurse wheeled me to my room. I was still CRAZY high from all the drugs, smiling like an idiot, telling everyone how awesome they were, and the nurses that I loved them all, and Dr. Yahyah (that was actually his name, not me being sassy) that I loved him. At the time, I thought it was that post-birth hormone cocktail everyone talks about. I now know better. I didn’t get to see my baby until 8:30. I don’t remember why. Maybe in my continued drugged up state I decided I needed a shower. I think it was because they wouldn’t let me see her. Around 8:30 I got to see her. Hubby was there with me of course.

We went to see her. She had a giant plastic bubble around her head. They said her O2 Sats were low but were getting better every hour. They were at 80% at that time. They informed me her APGAR was 1 at birth and 5 at 5 minutes. Not great. I touched her. The POS(Piece of Shit) NICU nurse told me to be careful touching her too much because their skin was so sensitive. And yet one more hospital staff member who’s lucky I didn’t put my fist through their face. IT’S MY DAUGHTER DAMNIT! I’ve been separated for 3 hours. I need to touch her. I'm going to explode if I don't touch her! I was not allowed to hold her. Oh my arms ached to feel her skin on mine. To nurse her. And I wasn’t allowed. I instructed them to give her no bottles and no pacifiers and to inform me of any and all changes. Do not bathe her.

Proud momma!!!!!

I went back to my room for a long, painful night. I was extremely swollen "down there" and had terrible edema from the IV fluids. It was incredibly painful to walk. I didn't really have much sensation of when I had to urinate. I simply went every X minutes since I knew I couldn't feel anything properly. I went to see her several times, ate more food than I’ve ever eaten in my life, and cried a lot. I don’t remember if I was alone or not. I think was. Which was fine. I tried pumping with their massive industrial sized pump every 2 hours and got about 1 oz of colostrum total. The next day, approximately 18 hours after I birthed my child, who was still a complete stranger to me, there was a knock on my door and there was my baby!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I kicked the nurse out, ripped my shirt off, unwrapped her but kept the blanket to her back, and settled in for my first nursing session. She still felt like someone I didn’t know very well but I was going to enjoy getting to know.

I got my baby. I got my vaginal birth. But I didn’t do it alone. I needed help. Medical help. But I didn’t want medical help. And I didn't trust my care provider. You may be thinking as you read this “Man it’s a good thing things went the way they did because that baby needed to go to the NICU!” And maybe that’s true. But it might not be. I know that babies are more likely to have Low O2 sats if their head is pulled on or yanked while mom is pushing them out. I don’t know if this happened. I have a feeling that my stress and anxiety and terror and hate during labor affected my baby and her ability to live effectively. Some people think that’s a little Hippy-Dippyish, but it’s what I believe. Maybe my distress during labor caused her to move around too much, tightening the umbilical cord around her neck. I don’t know. I’ve accepted what happened, but I don’t like it and I’ve had to heal from it. It was traumatic. Not as traumatic as some, thank the Lord, but traumatic. Not too many positive memories from that first birth. But at least I got my healthy baby, right?

What did I learn through this experience? It is EXTREMELY important to trust your care provider. Continuous labor support is absolutely necessary for me. It's vitally important to voice your feelings (ALL OF THEM) during your labor. Sometimes women legitimately need help, and it's not always because they have given up. Sometimes shitty circumstances dictate the need for assistance. It is vitally important to stand up for yourself in the hospital, should you choose to have a hospital birth. Not all midwives are great. Some are downright shitty. Not all OBs are evil. Some are quite wonderful! Things change and you have to be flexible (but not before exhausting all the options that YOU want unless legitimate emergencies arise, and these, for real, occur only about 8% of the time!!) Hospitals suck. Waterbirth may not be for me. Ever. Because of this experience.

My daughter is now 2.5 and I still believe those hours separated immediately after birth affect our relationship. I work hard and pray fervently for continued healing from this birth. And yes, I DO thank God that I have a healthy baby. Every single day.

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