Member of the Month March Spotlight: Jennifer's VBAC Birth Story of Owen

My birth story.

After suffering with prodromal labor for weeks, I awoke Monday morning, at almost 41 weeks pregnant, to contractions that felt much more real than the ones I had been experiencing for weeks. I just knew that this was it and my baby would be in my arms shortly.   If I only knew then....

I will note here that I should be referring to these contractions as "pressure waves" per my Hypnobabies practice.   I found out later that I was likely having back labor due to a mal-positioned baby and though I am sure my hypnosis helped, these were pretty intense.    I found myself needing to breathe through them and unable to manage my daughter alone.   I called my doula, Rebecca, and asked her to come on over since she had quite a drive,   Then, I drew a bath and waited for the fun to begin.  I had never labored before and was excited and ready for the challenge.   Rebecca arrived and we headed to Fruitful Vine for my midwife, Cindy, to do a quick check.   I hadn't received any cervical checks so far and was expecting a little progress considering the warm up I had been having.  After a white knuckle ride there, I was delivered the interesting news that I was merely a fingertip dilated.  Not even enough for a membrane sweep.   Not one to be deterred, we decided to go shopping and walk to see if things got going.   They never did, so I decided we should all go home and attempt to rest while we still could.    I drank some Natural Calm, took another bath, and had a fitful night of rest waking for most contractions while keeping somewhat relaxed with my Hypnobabies tracks.

The next morning things kicked up another notch and I found myself unable to hold any type of conversation.   Convinced today was the day, I had Stephen take Evelyn, my oldest, to his parents house.    Rebecca was on her way back over.   While leaning over the birthing ball I called my best friend for comic relief.   After interrupting that short phone call multiple times for waves right on top of one another, I told Rebecca to just meet us at the hospital, packed my stuff into the car and got out of dodge as quickly as we could.  No way I wanted to hit transition in the car.   It was a long ride.  

Cut to triage at Shands where I am informed that I am 1-2 centimeters (still!?), my baby has heart decels during each contraction, and that I am at a risk for uterine rupture by trying to VBAC.   Luckily, I was educated enough to know the real risk on that last fact.  Digesting that info I tell them I need to pee.  They bring in a bedpan.  Seriously.  A bedpan.   I tried not to laugh and then almost cried.  Stephen was on the phone with Cindy and we briefly considered leaving.   I was convinced they were trying to drive me crazy and started contemplating delivering my own baby, but home was so far away and there was slight concern for baby Owen.   We decide to let them admit me, but not before I peed on an actual toilet like a dignified woman in labor should.  

Triage was a nightmare, but quickly became a distant memory.  Once admitted to L&D I treated the nurses to the brownies I brought and got back to the important business of laboring.   This was at 4pm on Tuesday.   From that point until around 2am on Wednesday I was in what I like to call a laboring time warp.   It went by incredibly fast and terribly slow.   The monitors were annoying, but necessary I was told as Owen still had decels.  I labored on the bed on all fours, on the birth ball, and dancing with Stephen.   Everyone tried to help me keep the monitors on, but it was difficult and a bit stressful for me.  I unplugged myself from the annoying monitors often to go to the bathroom where I hung out for as long as I could.  I remember felling rushed out of the bathroom each time by Stephen.  I thought he was worried about the baby, but now tells me it was because he was uncomfortable in there.  Luckily for him that is almost funny now.    He and Rebecca were great though.  It was such a team effort.  They provided massage, cold and hot packs, water, honey sticks... The works.    I almost felt bad for how much work they were doing.   Almost.  When it got really intense I signed a waiver and took a really long hot shower with Stephen, moaning through the now almost unbearable waves.  Eleanor, the night nurse came in and checked me before 9pm and again right around 11.   Both checks showed me at 6 centimeters.   I wasn't making progress and my contractions were becoming increasingly painful.   They wrapped around my back like a vice.   I already have severe low back issues, so it was probably adding to the level of pain.   I was now dreading each contraction.   I felt my body fight them instead of surrendering and it was not in my control anymore.    I literally couldn't roll with them, it was simply too painful and I was feeling fatigued.  I started to wonder if it was slowing down my progress and so did everyone else.    At this point I had been having intense contractions for almost two full days, so I made the difficult decision to get the epidural in hopes my body would start to cooperate.  At 1:40 it was put in place.   Sitting still for that was the worst part of my entire laboring experience!  My BP and Owens heart rate dropped immediately.  It was a scary moment and everyone became very serious. Luckily, it was only a blip.  Soon the room was much more relaxed.    Stephen and Rebecca went to sleep.  I tried and listened to some hypnobaby tracks, but sleep eluded me.   I was meeting my baby soon.  No way was I sleeping.   I was worried, too.  Owens heart decels happened anytime I moved from my left side.   I couldn't see the monitor when I was on my left,  so I took to neurotically waking Stephen to see if everything was ok.  For the most part, it was.  Things moved quickly after the epi was in place, comparably speaking.   I started to progress a bit, but they wanted to break my water.   I reluctantly agreed, but when they came in to do it my water spontaneously ruptured.  My uterus works well under pressure.  The water had meconium in it, though they didn't seem too concerned.  An internal contraction monitor was placed.   They started some sort of uterine flush to help his decels.  I was told it would flush the meconium out as well.   At this point I have had more intervention than I had planned, but I was prepared for things to veer off course a bit.  It was labor after all.   Does it ever go the way you envision it?  The nurses and midwives were great.   I was consulted throughout each intervention.  I felt in control.   Empowered even.   At 5:30 they broke a fore bag of waters to get things moving as they had stalled a bit again.

By 11 the back pain was returning.   The epidural had been great.  I could move my legs a bit and feel the contractions, but no pain.  I decided to get just a small dose more to keep me comfortable, but was hoping to have it wear off for pushing.   We were starting to creep into the afternoon on Wednesday by this point and still no baby.   Cindy had arrived and we were discussing a very small dose of Pitocin to help get me from 8 centimeters to complete.   As a VBAC, pit scared me and I was physically and emotionally exhausted.   For the first time I seriously considered throwing in the towel and heading to the OR.   Cindy assured me that it was a low dose and they would see if it caused the baby issues and were ready to get him out quickly if needed.   It was up to me.   Everyone left the room and I discussed it with Stephen.   I wanted an out.   I practically begged him to tell me the c-section was ok.   Luckily, he didn't.   He just said he would support me either way.   I decided that I had come this far, so why not try the very last thing that might get me the birth I had hoped for.   Either way I knew I was having a baby that day, darn it!   It would all be over soon was my mantra at this point.  They started pit and things moved fast.   Before I knew it I felt the urge to labor down and push a bit.   The epidural had all but worn off.  The timing was almost perfect and it felt incredible to push.   I felt powerful, like I was finally contributing.   I knew pushing could take a while, but I was still surprised no one came running to potentially catch the baby.  Turns out that it took about an hour.  For a while I pushed with just Stephen and Rebecca in the room.   We started the Hypnobabies pushing track.  It was comical, but not helpful.   Soon Cindy and Kristin, the other midwife, arrived.   The pushing got serious.    I tried laying on my back, but preferred the squat position.  It put much less pressure on my back.   Cindy wanted me to relax in between contractions.  I wish I had been better at that part, but it was practically impossible for me with all of that pressure.   My birth plan said I wanted the mirror, but I refused.   I was terrified I wouldn't see a baby coming out and would get discouraged.  The pushing was getting exhausting.   Cindy, being the awesome midwife she is, insisted on the mirror.   I saw and felt his head.   It was all the motivation I needed.   I finally realized it was happening.  This baby was exiting my vagina!!!  I pushed with everything I had.   I felt the ring of fire.  What an appropriate name for it, I thought.   I yelled out that it burned.   Someone yelled back to push through the burn.   I did and I felt myself tearing.   I couldn't care less though, I just wanted him OUT.

Finally, at 5:17 he arrived and was placed on my chest.   He was small and limp.  His little lips were turning purple and he didn't cry.   I was scared.  I don't remember if I said anything, but I wanted them to fix him.  I looked at Cindy.   She seemed apologetic about needing to cut the cord early since I requested it be delayed, but of course I was ok with it.   It felt like things were moving in a tragic slow motion.  They whisked him off to the warmer and started  working to get him to transition better.  Time stood still.   The darn mirror was in the way of me seeing him, but I was assured he was going to be ok.   Someone told me he peed everywhere and I finally heard him cry.   Not knowing if your baby is ok is excruciating.  Around this time I started delivering the placenta.   I imagine you would notice this less with a baby in your arms, but it was not pleasant.  It moved past my tear and I suddenly felt betrayed by all the articles I read about the pain disappearing once the baby came out.   It hurt.   My vagina was on fire and I gladly informed anyone who would listen.  Looking back I am sure that was slightly amusing.

The pediatricians wanted to take Owen to the nursery for observation for an hour.   I wasn't happy about that and not everyone agreed it was necessary, but I wanted to play it safe and didn't make a fuss.  Stephen went with him and he was brought back just as Kristin finished stitching me up.   He latched right away and has been a breastfeeding pro since.   He weighed in at just under 6 lbs and 20.5 inches.  Small, but healthy.   I am still riding the high from his birth.   I feel like a rock star anytime I think of it and it reminds me that I can do anything.   His birth didn't just happen to me, I owned it.   I had a wonderful birth team and I couldn't have done it without each of them.  Rebecca, Cindy, Kristin and Eleanor will always have a special place in my heart.   Shands was amazing.   I could go on and on, but I will end things here.   My VBAC was nothing like I expected it to be, but I do think it demonstrates that sometimes interventions, if used judiciously, can actually help you get the birth that you desire.  This was one of the most amazing experiences of my life and I am very thankful.  

Member of the Month November Spotlight: Katie's Cesarean Birth Story of Lucas

It all started May 31 around 5 in the evening (3 days after my estimated due date). Will and I had attempted some labor-inducing activities earlier in the day, and were taking a nap. I woke up to my water breaking EVERYWHERE... I was kind of in disbelief-- Is this really happening?!?! I got out of bed and waddled around in a few circles, and finally realized I should wake Will. "Babe, my water broke!" He FLEW out of bed and immediately started throwing things into our hospital bags. Our fear was that with the amount of fluid I was carrying, I was at an increased risk of the umbilical cord slipping out before Luke did, and creating an emergency situation. I'd done my research, though, and I knew what to do if I felt that telltale pulsating... so I stopped for a moment to concentrate, and when I realized all was okay, the contractions began. They weren't uncomfortable, but were definitely THERE, about 6-7 minutes apart. We called Will's sister, Tricia (who is a certified nurse midwife), my parents, and my sister and everyone started making preparations to come to our house.

A few hours later I was still contracting, but they were not getting stronger or closer together. I was bouncing on my yoga ball, walking around the house, and snacking and drinking gatorade. Around 11 that night I laid down to take a nap (and I believe a few other people did, too). Tricia had been listening to Luke with a doppler and taking my temperature every so often, so that we could make sure he was still doing great. She woke me up a couple hours later, and was concerned that I had been able to sleep through contractions. At this point, they had pretty much stopped, but I figured I was just lucky and wasn't in too much pain yet. She said she would like to check for dilation, and I said okay. A few minutes later she said I was still hardly a fingertip (what I had been for the past 2 weeks) and she thought we should head to the hospital because it had been almost 12 hours and I had not made ANY progress whatsoever. She knew of our plans to go as intervention free as humanly possible, and we talked with her about possibly needing just a "whiff of pit" to get my body started. She assured me that it could be turned off once my body actually began labor.

So we trekked up to the hospital, almost an hour away. When we got there, I told the nurses my water had broken at home, contractions had started and then stopped, and hadn't really come back to any pattern since then. The nurse wanted to swab me to see if my water had indeed broken. Three swabs and a fern test later, they said my water had not broken. They also said they could feel my bag still intact. I was so confused-- I KNEW that what had happened at home had been my water and Tricia agreed with me. The general consensus ended up being that I had two bags and one of them had ruptured. The way I understood it is that most women have two bags that fuse together at some point during the pregnancy. In my case, mine did not fuse and it was like a water balloon inside a water balloon. Luke's balloon didn't pop, but the outer one did, resulting in what I believed to have been my water breaking at home.

Around 7 or 8 in the morning, they decided to send me home. I did not want to get labor started with Pitocin if I didn't NEED to, and as long as neither Luke nor I were in any danger, I wanted to go home. We all went home and crashed-- everyone had been awake all night anticipating a baby being born.

Fast forward to June 2. We went to a baby shower and then a going away party up in St. Marys. At the baby shower, my friend suggested eating BBQ and macaroni and cheese (not together, just at the same meal)-- it had worked for her TWICE to get contractions started. While we were up in Georgia, we went to dinner with Will's parents at Sonny's BBQ. In the middle of dinner (around 5:30ish) I realized I was contracting pretty regularly (again). I didn't say anything to anyone because my body had been doing this for WEEKS- regular contractions that disappear in a few hours. When we got home I told Will I was going to go lay down-- this was the part where they were going to either go away when I went to sleep or get stronger and wake me up in a few hours. A little while later, I found myself unable to sleep because I was contracting so strongly. I got out of bed and found Will watching TV-- I told him my contractions were now 5-6 minutes apart and lasting about a minute, minute and a half. We tried not to get too excited, but I made sure to start eating and drinking regularly-- just in case. An hour or two later (I am kind of fuzzy on exact times over this whole story) Will decided he was going to go lay down-- if this was IT, he was going to need energy, too. I sat down to watch some TV and started doing hip circles on my yoga ball to help Luke get into a great position for birth. Almost immediately I felt my contractions intensify and stay that way. I knew this was definitely the beginning of labor, and suddenly I didn't want to be alone. I went and woke Will up and told him he needed to be awake with me. He timed a few contractions and they were even closer together now- 4-5 minutes. We called my parents and they and my sister Kelly made their way over. My dad slept on the couch while Mom and Kelly put counter pressure on my back (back labor had begun already). Will stood in front of me and let me drape my entire upper body over him... it was the only thing that felt good. I was having to concentrate and breathe through every contraction at this point.

When my contractions got down to 2-3 minutes apart, lasting 45-60 seconds, for an entire solid hour, my mom said she thought it was time to go to the hospital. I asked over and over again if she was sure, because I was terrified of going all the way up there AGAIN, only to have them tell me this wasn't the real thing. With my risk factors, though, I knew I needed to err on the side of caution. We packed up the vehicles and went on our way. I was mentally preparing myself for labor to stall a little, because I knew a change in location can do that. However, labor only intensified in the car on the way there. I'm pretty sure my mom broke a few traffic laws on our way to the hospital. I began to panic we weren't going to make it in time because contractions were double peaking and required SO MUCH concentration.

When we FINALLY got upstairs, labor stopped in its tracks. Completely STOPPED. When the nurse checked my dilation, I was only 2 cm. ONLY TWO FREAKIN' CENTIMETERS. I wanted to punch her and tell her to find someone else to check me, I was sure she was wrong. I got out of the bed to walk the halls, do some squats, anything to get things going again. Keep in mind, at this point I was HUGENIC, so walking even to the bathroom was a huge feat for me. Every so often, labor would pick up again, and then disappear. I knew this meant he was probably not in the best position for birth, but nothing was comfortable any more. I remembered that my body was instinctually supposed to tell me what to do, what position to get in, to make things happen, but I could not figure anything out. It only complicated things that they made me lay in the bed attached to the monitors for 20 minutes out of every hour. Sure, it doesn't seem like that long, but when you have a massive belly squishing EVERYTHING, the only semi-comfortable position is sitting up... and they couldn't find his heart beat that way. So I had to lay back. Even though he was JUST FINE, even though I was JUST FINE, they refused to check me with just the doppler. "Hospital policy!" Grr.

Throughout the course of the day, labor continued to start and stop, start and stop. Dr. M came in a few times, and said she did not want to augment with Pitocin (which I was totally fine with). She said my chance of successfully, vaginally delivering this big baby was best as long as we let my body take its time. I like that she was so supportive of our wishes, but I was starting to get VERY TIRED. It was taking me an average of 4 hours to dilate one centimeter. At this point I had gotten far enough along to be considered in "active labor," and was completely effaced, we were just waiting for stronger contractions and more dilation. Part of the problem was that since I had so much fluid he was sitting so high up, and his head wasn't pressing down on my cervix to help me dilate. We discussed with Dr. M the possibility of breaking my water, in order to make sure he descended in the proper position for birth, to prevent a prolapsed cord, and to help me dilate without the use of drugs. She said she absolutely did not feel comfortable doing that until I was at 6 cm, and to just be patient.

A couple hours later I was getting exhausted. I was approaching 24 hours of labor and had not slept Friday night (it was now Sunday evening). The contractions, when I was having them, were incredibly strong and were taking a lot of concentration and relaxation (but I was doing it!!). We talked over the possibility of me taking something to help me get a couple hours of sleep, and settled on a shot of morphine and phenergen. It did nothing for the pain but within 20 minutes I was getting soooo sleepy. I laid back and slept for a couple hours while my family got some much needed food.

When I woke up I was energized and READY. Dr. M came in to check me and I was 7 cm and contracting strong. The conversation about AROM happened again, and I was torn. I knew that breaking my water would put me on a timeline, it would make labor harder, but on the other hand, I was STUCK and was worried that without it, labor was going nowhere. We decided that she would break my water once I got to 8 cm... that was transition and was going to be hard anyways, but is the shortest part of labor.

I got out of bed and walked the halls for awhile, then labored with Will in the room. A few hours (I believe it was just before midnight) and a few tears later, we decided to go ahead and let her break my water (I was finally at 8 cm). I knew the actual process wouldn't hurt, but I was terrified of what was going to come after. When she actually did it, I immediately felt a huge rush of fluid and could almost feel him descend even further down. My contractions picked up immediately and were sooooo hard. I was in terrible back labor and nothing I did relieved the pain. I had been in back labor this entire time but it was nothing like THIS. Our room became filled with the encouragement of Will, my mom, and my sister, who were all desperately trying to make me as comfortable as possible. They seemed to instinctually know when to encourage me, when to stay quiet, when to press on my back, and when to leave me alone. I had never been in so much pain before in my life. I started begging for some pain medicine and Will and my mom kept reminding me that this means I'm almost there... I remember Mom saying, "Remember, when you think you absolutely cannot handle any more, you're almost finished." And Will, who was standing in front of me while I leaned over him, whispering, "You're doing fantastic, babe. You're doing this for Luke. You can do it." For awhile, they would watch the monitors and tell me when my contraction had peaked. That is, until they started double, triple, and quadruple peaking... I would have 7-8 minutes of straight contractions, and then maybe 20-30 seconds of rest before they would begin again.

Three hours of this madness made me start to lose it. I was becoming desperate for pain relief. Absolutely desperate. I begged for a shot, for a pill, something. The nurse (who happened to be a lady from my church, go figure!) said at this point, my only pain relief option was the epidural. I KNEW I didn't want that and I didn't know what to do. I remember sitting there on the edge of the bed trying to figure out HOW I could get out of this situation. "Maybe I can make a run for it." "Can I tear my stomach open and get him out NOW?" All kinds of crazy thoughts started going through my mind as I became even more desperate and hysterical. I was sobbing at this point, seriously convinced my body was breaking in half. Nothing I did (or anyone else did) helped and I was miserable. I knew that if I couldn't relax, my body was not going to be able to dilate those final 2 centimeters. I told my mom and Will that I WANTED THAT EPIDURAL NOW! They kept reminding me of all the reasons I'd said I didn't want it, that I was better off without it. I knew in my heart there was NO WAY I was going to have this baby anytime soon and I could.not.do.it.any.more. I turned to my nurse and told her to go get the anesthesiologist. She asked me over and over again if I was sure, and I remember begging her to PLEASE JUST HURRY UP. I had been under the impression that I'd get it pretty quickly, but noooooooo, I first had to get a full bag of fluids (I didn't have an IV up until this point... I wanted nothing extra!). But before they could give me the fluids, she had to redo my hep-lock! My first nurse had put it in wrong, but no one had noticed because they didn't need it. So after a few needle sticks and an entire bag of fluids later (read: a whole other hour!) here comes the anesthesiologist. He starts telling me all about everything that can go wrong and the process he'd follow to get the needle in my back... I told him I knew all that already, I'd done my research and just DO IT ALREADY. "Okay, Mrs. Wood, I need you to sit on the edge of the bed and curl your back over. Roll your shoulders forward." I couldn't do it, my stomach was tooooooo big. He kept telling me over and over again to roll forward, and finally my nurse stepped in- "Dr. So-and-so, LOOK at her belly. You're going to have to figure out a way to make this work because this poor girl cannot bend over any more." Will watched as he stuck me multiple times to try and get the needle in the right spot. I hardly felt the needle because I was still trying to survive my contractions.

Within minutes, I could feel the drugs taking effect, and this is where I start not remembering what's happening. They helped me lay back into the bed and I'm sure there's more that happened, but I fell asleep. Fast forward to 7:30 in the morning, on Monday, June 4. I woke up and felt sooooo hungover, it was crazy. I asked Will if I was still having contractions because I couldn't feel a thing below my neck. He said yes, that they were just as intense as they had been a few hours before. The nurse came in to check me... I was hoping I was at a 10 and they were going to tell me to push soon, but NOPE, I was only at 9. ONLY 9 CENTIMETERS! Instantly, I was even more glad I had the epidural, because it had been another 3-4 hours and I'd only gone 1 centimeter. I think I set the record for being in transition the longest. A few hours later, I was 9.5. Then I was 10, but with a small lip. They gave me a little while longer at 10 to make the lip go away, and then the nurse said that Luke was still high up in the birth canal and she wanted my contractions to bring him down more before I pushed. That was fine by me, because I didn't have the urge yet, anyways. About half an hour later she came back in and said she wanted me to do some "practice pushes" so that I could learn what I was supposed to do. Within 2-3 pushes I suddenly started feeling that urge to push, that undeniable OMG I HAVE TO PUSH NOW feeling. This was it!! I was going to finally hold my baby!! She looked down and said, "I can see his hair! He has a head full of hair! Do you want to see?!" UM, YES! She set up a mirror and I almost burst into tears-- here was my tiny (cough, ahem, LARGE) baby's head! It was grayish pinkish whitish, but it was MY BABY'S HEAD AND HAIR! Suddenly I wanted to get him out even more... I put all my effort in over and over and over...for 3 solid hours. Luke wouldn't budge. They started losing his heart beat on the external fetal monitors, and they asked me if they could put an internal monitor in. I was terrified since he'd been going through labor for so long and they couldn't find his heartbeat, so I consented to them screwing that monitor into his scalp. They had to do it twice since the first time it didn't stay in his head 

Dr. M, even though she was technically off at 7 that morning, had said she would stay through delivery because it was sure to be an exciting/potentially difficult one, seeing as how he was projected to be 11 pounds. I was secretly happy because she was very supportive of all my wishes and the doctor who was coming on, Dr. F, seemed terrified of my big baby and my not wanting a c-section. One of the doctors (I don't remember which one) came in to check on how things were going, and said that I appeared to have enough room around his head where he could still fit through. However, they weren't sure if it was his head or fluid built up at the top of his head from being stuck in the birth canal for so long. They said I could still have another 3-4 hours of pushing left, and then there was no guarantee that he would fit all the way out- his shoulders could still get stuck and I was looking at an emergency situation.

I was tired, I was desperate, and I just wanted to hold my baby. So I told them I was done, just get him out NOW. I signed the papers for consent for cesarean and Will got dressed in scrubs as they prepped me for surgery. I cried, because I knew I was not getting the birth I'd wanted. But at that moment, I was so overwhelmed and so scared and I just wanted to hold him SO BAD. They wheeled me into the OR and told Will they'd get him in a little bit. They strapped me to the table crucifixion style and the anesthesiologist tested my epidural to be sure it was enough for surgery. It seemed to be, so they were ready to begin. "Wait! Somebody get my husband!" I yelled, convinced they'd forgotten to get him. He came in a few seconds later, and sat up by my head. We talked for a few minutes while the surgery began. Suddenly, I could feel a searing pain in my right hip... I told everyone in the room (i.e., I screamed) that I could feel pain and they tried to tell me I couldn't, that it was just pressure I was feeling. But no, I was in PAIN. It felt like someone had taken a drill to my right hip socket and was going to town. I looked up and saw a nurse sitting on my chest... What? Why? I didn't want to know, I just turned my head back to Will and prayed it would be over soon. They pushed more drugs into my IV and I got verrrry groggy. Then I heard him cry! I looked up at Will and we both said at the same time, over and over, "That's our baby! That's our Luke!" Dr. F said, "Oh my goodness, he's a toddler!" and everyone in the room laughed!

They brought him over to the french fry warmer to clean him up and suction his lungs-- there was meconium in my water when it broke. Will got up to go look at him, and then brought him over to snuggle against my cheek. He had to wake me up because I was falling asleep over and over again. I only saw Luke for about a minute before he left with Will and the nurses to go to the nursery while my surgery was finished up. I let myself fall back asleep at that point, glancing up at the clock to see what time it was-- about 1:20. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in recovery, and it's 3:30... I'm all by myself, and my nurse was sitting at the desk in front of me. I asked her if my baby was okay, and where he was, and she said they'd bring him to me when they brought me up to my post-partum room. I cried and begged for them to let me hold him, but she said that I would have to wait. Will came to see me and said that Luke was doing great and that the family was looking at him through the nursery windows. WHAT? The rest of our family is getting to look at him and talk about how precious he is and I CAN'T?! How is this fair?!

A nurse from the nursery came in and told me that Luke's blood sugar was dangerously low, so they needed to give him formula, and which brand would I like them to use. "No formula! I'm going to breastfeed him!" I said. So they finally brought him to me to try and nurse him. I was covered in blankets and had my IV, heart monitors, and epidural still hooked up. He was swaddled so tightly that the only part of him I could touch was his face... Neither he nor I had ever nursed before (obviously) so neither of us knew what we were doing. We had missed that "golden hour" after birth where his instincts take over and he figures it out on his own. Five minutes after trying and without attempting to give me any support or guidance, the nurse took him from me to go feed him some formula. I was in labor for almost 2 days so of COURSE my nearly 12 pound baby was going to have low blood sugar. When they FINALLY got me up to my post-partum room and I was FINALLY able to hold my little boy, I was the happiest mama on the planet--suddenly nothing else mattered and all my pain was gone- I had MY baby in MY arms and I was going to get to snuggle him however and whenever I wanted! I couldn't believe how big he was- I did not understand how he could have possibly fit inside of me!

The beginning of our breastfeeding journey was difficult, but we powered through and nursed for 14.5 months before Luke decided he was too busy to be bothered with mama milk anymore. Although my incision has healed, those emotional scars are there forever. I still feel betrayed by my body and my mind at times, but try to tell myself that what happened has happened, and all I can do is better in the future.

Member of the Month October Spotlight: Candice's Cesarean Birth of Gavin

Candice is our wonderful chapter co-leader and she came up with the brilliant idea of a Member of the Month spotlight on our facebook group. If you'd like YOUR story to be featured on our facebook group cover, please email your story and image to cyoung2110@gmail.com or PM Candice through facebook. You can choose to keep it on the private facebook group, or share it on the blog as well.  Here's her story of the birth of her firstborn. 

My son, I have been trying to come about and write an account of your birth. I have to admit, I harbored a lot of ill feelings about the recollection of it all, and sometimes it still haunts me how you came into this world. I feel guilty for a number of reasons, and I feel angry for a number more. However, I must preface all of this by saying that I am overwhelmingly happy that you are here, healthy, and adorable as can be.

Your "due date" was estimated at the very beginning at December 17. I say estimated because that was what I was told to call it at the time. That nothing was for sure, really. Of course, I told them, and on about we went. It was the perfect pregnancy. One hundred percent drug free. I didn't even bother with a Tylenol on the two occasions I was under the weather. You were healthy and forming just as you should be. I was eating as well as I could, and every test was coming back normal as could be.

As I continued to grow with you, December 17 came and went. Christmas came and went. I finally stopped showing up for work because I was cramping and feeling generally icky for the last two weeks of December. It was then that it was apparent that our due date was etched in stone, and the powers that be had had enough waiting. They considered me two weeks late, and wanted to induce on the 31st if I didn't go into labor naturally. We had a couple of false alarms, but for the most part, I was cramping on and off for a week and a half straight.

December 31st arrived, and so you were supposed to be arriving as well. Matt and I packed up the Jeep, and made a quick stop at a minute mart for orange juice, something to eat, and water. I knew this was going to be a long process. We arrived on time, and were told to stick around in a waiting room because every single bed was taken at the moment. I felt a pang of guilt right then, figuring, maybe you weren't late. Perhaps you were just right on time and we shouldn't be rushing this along. Too little too late. They pulled us back after waiting to get a hep lock put in, vitals taken, and paperwork filled out. After all of that, I met my family back in the waiting room to yet again wait for a room to open up. About forty five minutes later, one did, and so we were escorted back. When I say "we", I mean, you, me, your father, your aunt, and all three sets of grandparents. I had quite an audience to keep me company.

I was issued a hospital gown, and put on some monitors to see what your baseline stats looked like. All was well and getting ready to get underway. Dr. VanScriver came in, and we shooed everyone out except your father. My water was broken, and mysoprostal was applied to induce labor. Everyone was ushered back in, and we all hung out while contractions started to build. I laid my head to the side and tried to let everything fall away while I closed my eyes through each one. I could hear everyone talking, and every now and again I was asked how I was doing, but after a while, I didn't want to talk. Once the machine started cranking out the numbers that the powers that be wanted to see, I was allowed up and out of bed for a while. Everyone was ushered out into the waiting room since I wanted to get up and to the bathroom, and get down to business. We started at 2cm. I labored with you on the potty for a bit since the pressure was too great to sit on the hard surface of the shower, and I wasn't prepared to stand up. But I finally got my feet under me and decided to labor in the hot water for a bit. During the past few weeks, hot water had become my friend. I stood in the shower, holding the shower head at my back, and swayed and moaned with you while we worked together for an hour. I was interrupted and sent back to bed to be strapped with monitors once again.

We were now at 5cm. I had been laboring for a few hours now. Back in bed, things got uncomfortable. Your grandmother and your father were both there to help with things. Your grandfather brought in gatorade earlier in the morning and some rice cakes. They both came up after laboring in the bed for an hour or so. The powers that be didn't like the numbers that were being put up, and came in with an IV and oxygen mask for me. Your father was scared. I was scared, but confident that we might still be able to have the birth we wanted for you. Contractions were getting so intense. I was falling asleep between each wave, trying to catch a break where I could. Those were becoming shorter and shorter. I snapped at your father after he asked me, once again during a contraction, how I was doing. I felt guilty, but was in too much pain to do much about it. I was put on all fours to see if I could not only get more oxygen to you, but labor more effectively. It turned out that the IV line wasn't working, and they had to get another one in. They blew out my vein on the first one, but manged to get a second line in. I wanted to push, and at that announcement, at only 9cm, a FLOOD of people entered the room.

The lights shined bright as they turned me over onto my back, and pulled my knees up to my ears. This was not how things were supposed to go. You were still sunny side up and refused to turn around. You were in the birth canal already. I was pushing for only half an hour, and pushing very well by the lead nurse's account. Your heart rate kept decelerating after every contraction. Too low. In the 90's, then the 70's. Just too much work for such a small body to handle. Seven hours of labor. That's a lot of work. Pushing hurt. You still had a little bit of lip left over you, and Dr. Slade said she had let this go further than she wanted to. They were prepping the OR without even telling me they were prepping. Matt and I urged her to let me work a little longer with you. My gut kept telling me you were alright. I was terrified. They wanted to cut me open and take you away from me. They didn't want to wait. They threatened that I would have to work as hard as I ever had for 20+ more minutes, but they weren't willing to let me do it.

And so the call was made.

Your father was put in scrubs, tears filled my eyes as I watched my mother cry for us, and was wheeled out of our room and into an opertating room to "deliver" you.

My heart was wrentching. This was not how I envisioned it.

They were talking above me as if I wasn't there. In one moment, the process of spinal anethesia was being described as I was going through yet another contraction, then performed, and in the next, Matt was next to my face looking above the curtain as the procedure to "rescue you" was being performed. In the middle of a sentence, you were born. I was completely unaware that they were bringing you out, then all the sudden, your cry was heard. I didn't get to see anything. My heart broke and rejoiced all at once. You were okay. You were here. Except... it wasn't me that birthed you.

They stated that nothing was abnormal. Your cord was not around your neck, you were in no distress. And as it turns out, you looked like a 39-40 week old baby. Not a 42 week old.

As they stitched me up and put me back together again, they cleaned you up, took all the measurements, and handed the 8 pound, 20 1/2" long bundle to your father. He brought you next to my face so that I could meet you for the first time. You were the most beautiful little boy I had ever seen. With the biggest feet I had ever seen!

It took longer than normal to get you out as you were already wedged into the canal. The family was on pins and needles expecting the worst news because of that, as your father went out to tell them that everything was okay. I breastfed you within an hour of your birth. You were amazing and took to it right away. It was a wonderful moment to share with you. To know that I could at least do something. You were a very calm baby. Just a sleepy and hungry newborn with a penchant for being so adorably cute.

Time seems to blur in and out, but the next thing I remember, all of our family came in to meet you.... and the rest, as they say, is history.

Three days later, you were home, and we both recovered. Together.

Thus, this is the story of how you were brought into this world.

To read Candice's HBAC story of Mary, click here: 

http://icanofnorthflorida.blogspot.com/2012/11/marys-birth-story.html.