My first child, a son, was born February 2011 at a hospital in Northern Virginia 8 minutes into his due date after 30 hours of labor. Part of the reason I want to share this is to continue the healing process of this fairly traumatic birth. I also want to share with you what I have learned since this birth about the ways I went wrong. In addition, this will lead up to another post about my plans for my upcoming birth which will be a home water birth in my bedroom. So here's my story:
The first week in May, 2010, I had a rough week. My husband was going on a week trip to a conference and I was a mess. On top of that, my work at a law firm had been extremely busy and stressful. Law firms can be a challenge since the pace is fast and the personalities are varied and strong. I started the morning in tears and begged my husband not to go. That should have been the first flag that something was up. I actually called my psychologist to set up an appointment because I thought I wasn't coping very well. Needless to say, Saturday evening before I picked up my husband for the airport, I took a pregnancy test and all was explained! We were expecting our first child. My husband found out we were expecting while standing in front of the baggage carousel at the airport.
The pregnancy was fairly easy and went on well. I had to switch from my midwife practice due to insurance changes so I switched to an OB practice recommended by a number of my friends at the synagogue. The practice was a typical OB practice with one midwife in the practice. Each appointment followed the same way: sign in, wait for a while, get weighed, urine test, blood pressure, wait some more, spend less than 10 minutes with whoever showed up and head home. Switching to a practice without more research was my first mistake. I didn't do enough research about the practice and didn't know enough about what I wanted for my care. It was my first pregnancy and I didn't know any better.
Half way through my pregnancy, my OB suggested I look into taking a prenatal course but encouraged me not to take Bradley as "it is very crunchy." Instead, she recommended that I take the 1 day (6 hour) course offered in their lobby of their office on a weekend morning. I agreed and promptly signed up. This was another big mistake. A one day course cannot begin to prepare you for pregnancy, labor and birth. Not only that, it was provided by the hospital and really focused on teaching you to be a good patient instead of how to give birth. Just to give you an idea, we spent less than 10 minutes on breathing techniques. On top of that, the techniques they taught were old Lamaze techniques that they no longer teach or advocate. Even with the endless books I read, it is not the same as attending a class that provides you with the ability to ask questions and practice all kinds of techniques.
Fast forward a couple weeks when I submit my birth plan. It was a simple 1 page document that basically said I wanted a natural birth. I said I would consider interventions but only after they became medically necessary. I also said that I did not want to be asked about pain relief until I asked for it. The only midwife in the practice took the paper, read it, and then encouraged me to be willing to get an epidural since it was my first pregnancy. That should have been a huge red flag. The MIDWIFE just pushed me to have an epidural before I was even in labor!
Fast forward to 39 weeks. I am already partially dilated (2 cm) and feeling really good. Friday, I decided to go on maternity leave 1 day early since it seemed silly to go back on Monday when my due date was Tuesday. Sunday morning, I woke up and had some show. I planned to go forward with my day as I knew this could mean anything. I went to brunch with two girl friends. I brought them home to see my nursery and talk things over. They left just after noon and we continued with our to do list for the day. By 3 pm, my contractions started to become much stronger and by 6pm they became even more strong and regular. It was kickoff of the Superbowl. I continued to fold laundry, eat dinner and count contractions. At some point, I could no longer focus on the game and decided to try and sleep. We turned on a movie and tried to rest. Sometime around 11 pm, my contractions were 3-4 minutes apart and I was getting nervous. I called the OB on call and left a message. After almost an hour and no return call, we decided it was time to head to the hospital. I figured that if I wasn't ready, they would send me home.
The drive to the hospital was long and hard 20 minutes. When we arrived at the hospital just after midnight. They checked me and said I was in labor and had only progressed to 3 cm. They admitted me and told me to take showers, walk the halls and get as much sleep as I wanted. My first mistake of the night was that I didn't just head home. I was not in active labor at 3cm and should have at least just walked through the halls for a few hours before they checked me into Labor and Delivery. I loved my first nurse because she listened to me and let me do what I needed to do. She let me sleep and told me she would only come in to do the necessary tests and if I needed her. She gave me space and offered helpful suggestions for me.
At 7 AM, my new nurse took over. Oh man! She was horrible. She wasn't in my room for more than 15 minutes before she began asking me when I wanted my epidural and trying to convince me that I should have one. No matter how many ways I told her I wasn't interested, she kept pushing. My husband even sent me on a walk by myself and asked her to stop asking me about an epidural. Instead of listening to either of us, she proceeded to go into even more detail on why I needed an epidural when I returned from my walk. After being at the hospital 7 hours, I'd only progressed 1 cm (to 4 cm). Other than one or two times I was allowed to go for walks, I was encouraged to sit in a chair or lay down in bed because all of the other movements were messing with my fetal monitor. This was exceptionally frustrating since the most comfortable position to labor in was leaning over the bed, birth ball or my husband's shoulders. In retrospect, I should have asked for another nurse. Until this pregnancy, I didn't know that was an option. She clearly had her opinion about how much labor and birth should be and didn't care to hear what I wanted. I also desperately wished that I had found the extra money to hire a doula. I'm sure she would have prevented me from going to the hospital so early and would have helped me get what I wanted as far as laboring positions and support.
By 4 PM, I was still at 4 cm dilated and the doctor and nurses started to talk about "failure to progress." This is another point where I wish I had just packed up my bags and headed home to return once I progressed further. However, I didn't know that was an option. I believed the doctors and nurses were there to support me in having the birth I wanted. After a lot of research and helpful birth classes I took before and during this pregnancy, I realized that this is not usually the case.
Anyway, the doctor came in and basically pushed very hard for pitocin and an epidural. I asked to go for a walk and think about it. As we walked the halls, I bumped into the midwife in this practice. She told me that my body needed rest and to get the epidural. She said I may progress on my own once I could sleep. At this point, I had lost confidence in my decisions. If the midwife was telling me I needed an epidural, I must need one. I headed back to my hospital bed and consented to an epidural. I cried from the moment I consented until 30 minutes after I received the epidural. I did not want this! When the epidural kicked in, it was so strong I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't move at all. After an hour, my contractions did not change (7 minutes apart the entire time I was at the hospital). They decided to put me on pitocin. Again, completely deflated, I consented. After a few minutes, the pitocin on a low drip didn't seem to do anything. They turned it up all the way. After about an hour, the contractions weren't registering, they realized that the fetal monitor I was hooked up to for over 24 hours didn't work.
By 7PM, I had progressed to 7 cm but I was still at -3 station. The doctor assumed I didn't want my water broken (which was one of the only things I didn't care if they did). When she finally asked, I said that I didn't mind if they broke my water. They broke my water (clear and healthy). Then, they left me alone. The only great thing that happened was that a new anesthesiologist came in and said my epidural was too high and turned it down a lot so I could at least move my legs on my own a little bit. I finally took a short nap but woke up with a fever. They told me that if the fever progressed that I would have to be on antibiotics even though it was a known side effect of being on pitocin and epidurals. I was encouraged to eat ice chips instead of drinking water. I eat a couple pieces of hard candy and chocolate because I hadn't eaten in over 24 hours. I tried to watch TV but I was out of it. Finally around 10:30 pm, I felt like something was happening but I couldn't describe it. I asked my husband to find me a nurse. A nurse came in and left. Around 11 pm, I asked my husband to find a nurse quickly because something was happening. When the doctor finally came in, she asked if anyone had checked me. After I said no, she said that the baby was at +4 station and that I should have already been pushing for a while.
They set up the mirror so I could see what I was doing. Meanwhile, they set up the room for birth in a hurry. The nurse, who I never got introduced to, started telling me to hold my breath when I pushed. It felt weird and I hated it. Sometimes I would forget and she would scold me. I pushed for 40 minutes. As the baby's head came out, I had secondary (almost tertiary) tears. Even through the crazy epidural, that hurt terribly. They told me to stop pushing because the baby had a cord around his neck. The doctor decided to cut the baby's cord while he was still in me. UGH! So much for delayed cord clamping. I finally birthed my baby at 12:08 am on his due date. They placed him on my belly and eventually told me we had a boy. In that moment, it no longer mattered that I had a traumatic experience. I had my baby boy. They wisked him away to clean, weigh, poke and prod him. They returned him to me so we could try to nurse. We said a couple of blessings together over our new baby boy.
The next few days may have been more traumatic than the birth. We struggled with breastfeeding due to an undiagnosed posterior tongue tie. In addition, people come into your room every few minutes to check me, then the baby, bring food, empty the trash, make sure I got my food, empty the bathroom trash, do some test, try and get photographs, etc. I couldn't sleep, the baby wasn't getting enough milk, the lactation consultants were so hard to contact. It was miserable. I was so glad to get home. It took us weeks to get everything squared away.
Now, this birth probably doesn't sound that unusual or even traumatic to most people. And as most people said to me: "You had a healthy baby boy, what does it matter.""You didn't have a C-section so you should be happy." The problem was that I wanted my child to birthed naturally and peacefully. I wanted people to hear what I wanted and needed and honor what I wanted. Many of the interventions I had were not necessary. Neither me nor the baby were in any distress. I never asked to have an epidural because I was in too much pain. I was pressured because they thought I'd be happier. Also, it would limit my movement and make it easier to care for me in some ways. It turns out I was one of (if not the only) mom to have a vaginal birth at my hospital that night. I felt like all of my power was taken from me and more than that, I felt like I had no voice. Birth is all about being empowered and present in the experience. I wanted to feel and experience this birth on my own terms to the best of my ability. That was taken away from me for no medical reason. I was not given enough knowledge to know better and I was new to the experience. (I would like to say that everyone has the right to the birth that they want. If someone wants an epidural, all the power to them. However, I think everyone has the right to have the birth they want as long as it doesn't put themselves or their baby at risk.)
Because of this birth experience, I became hyper vigilant about everything but especially about our struggles with breastfeeding. I researched everything insistently and spent hundreds of dollars (if not thousands) on lactation consultants and support supplies. We were successful eventually but not after a large amount of stress and loss of precious time enjoying my son's infancy.
Months, if not over a year, later, I began to research about birth, natural birth, midwifery and birth support. I learned a lot and began to realize how horrible my experience really was. On top of that, I learned how much of my experience was not necessary and could have been easily avoided.
The next most frustrating point was that there was tons of articles out there about how broken our maternity care system is in the United States. They talk endlessly about the problems caused by our birth system and how horrible it can be for mothers and their babies. However, there are almost no resources out there for moms who were unfortunate enough to be caught in the broken system and to be traumatized by their birth. It is still an area that needs a lot of growth but there is information out there.
In my next post, I will talk about some of the wonderful resources I found to assist in healing from my birth experience. In addition, I will talk about all of the wonderful things I did to make this birth and pregnancy a beautiful experience. I hope that my birth will also be healing.
No comments:
Post a Comment