It was the number of martinis that shall not be named that clued me in that I was expecting. The "hangover" sickness lasted well into the evening, which I knew wasn't right. I pondered this as well as the strange, vivid dreams I had been having that week and realized that something was different. And as the word "pregnant" popped up in the window of the stick of destiny, my first thought was, "Oh God, please don't let me have to be cut open again."
My husband and I had not discussed birth. My youngest was 9 and his youngest was 7. We were well beyond that stage. I threw the idea of home birth out to him immediately while simultaneously recounting for him the morning of my cesarean surgery that had forever traumatized me. A failed induction for a baby that was too big(who weighed in at 7lbs7oz, smaller than my first). I had met a friend at church shortly after that birth who had 5 children.....all born at home with a midwife. I thought we might go that route, but I wanted to talk to my doctor first.
My doctor was very straightforward. To her credit, she did say I was probably a perfectly good candidate for a home birth. She explained to me the risk of uterine rupture, which was low but real and shared with me the story of the one that she had seen in her 13 or so years of practice. I could tell it had burned a memory into her mind that was not easily forgotten. The other doctors in the practice (because you have no idea who will be on call when you go into labor, you see a different one at each visit) were not as agreeable. Of the 7 doctors in the office, only 3 seemed to be completely comfortable with a vaginal birth after cesarean(VBAC). Finally, when it was explained to me that in order to have a VBAC, my local hospital required that I have an epidural during labor, I realized that their focus was not on me as an individual, but on their convenience and their reducing the likelihood of being sued. It was time to look for a midwife.
It wasn't easy to find her. Certified Professional Midwives (CPMs) who deliver babies at home are not legally recognized or licensed in NC.....and according to the law you must have a license to practice midwifery. My friend's midwife was no longer practicing, but she did refer me to the woman who would ultimately be my midwife....and mentor.
When we met her, I knew right away that she would attend me. Her demeanor was light and energetic. She knew the actual statistics about the safety of VBAC and directed me to some reading. We talked about risk and benefits, what happens in a home birth when there is an emergency, what my prenatal care would look like, etc. I would be driving an hour and fifteen minutes to see her for my prenatal care but it was worth it to me. After that appointment, my husband and I got into the care and said, "She's the one" and never looked back. We knew the risks. We believe in a God that is much bigger than most people allow Him to be. We knew that ultimately, it is HE who holds our lives in HIS hands and were willing to trust HIM with the outcome.
The pregnancy was not easy. The nausea always catches me off guard and having to try to travel and work was difficult. Was I this fatigued with the other two? I was a fitness instructor so being knocked out like that was difficult. But soon the second trimester came with the return of the energy and the farewell to nausea.
This was an emotionally stressful pregnancy which I now truly believe contributed to my baby's fussiness and colic after birth. Not everyone was happy about it. I felt a lot of judgement and it made me weary. The assertive and independent woman that my husband had married only seven months earlier quickly crumpled into a heap of hormonal emotion......needy and anxious. Two words that did not usually fit the description of ME. Life continues to happen when you are pregnant, jobs are lost, children struggle, financial concerns mount and the list goes on. We moved into our new home just after my husbands first lay off. It would be the first of three with the struggling banking industry. Our finances took a dive and suddenly we didn't know where the money for this birth to happen would come from. We thankfully had a very understanding midwife who gave us extra time to pay. It's only now, as a midwife myself, that I understand what a struggle that may have cause for her own family. I am deeply grateful. But at the time, I felt a little like I was drowning. What a horrible stress this must have been on my growing baby. Guilt.
As my due date approached I became increasingly physically uncomfortable. It was hard to get around. We had 30 consecutive days of 90 plus degree weather so I stayed confined to my house.
On the night of August 6, my water broke around 7:45pm. I was relieved and excited. I called my midwife and she told me to let her know when contractions became regular.
I should have gone to bed. I tell people now, "GO TO BED!!!!!!" Instead, in my excitement, I wanted to get things going. It was not a smart thing to be walking my neighborhood at 11pm. By 3am, contractions were picking up and we called for our birth attendants. They arrived around 4:30am and things appeared to be moving right along. Contractions were coming every 3-4 minutes and becoming increasingly difficult. I was in the water, breathing and coping. Fatigue was setting in, but I felt like surely it wouldn't be much longer.
By 6:30am I was feeling some pressure. My midwife's face when she checked me said that we were nowhere near pushing. She told me to go lay down and rest..... that we weren't ready for pushing. WHAT???? After walking upstairs I stopped and said to my husband, "Go ask her how not ready we are!" He came back with a report of 3cm. I was devastated.
I had this really intense pressure that made me feel like I needed to bear down that would come and go. I thought maybe I needed to go to the bathroom. A blue cohosh enema was administered and this really kicked things into high gear. The contractions picked up in fervor and I quickly dilated to 7cm after that.
At 8cm, the urge to bear down came again. By now it was 11am and I was exhausted. Work through the contractions, but don't push.....oh God I am truly going to die. I began to lose it. The fatigue from my decision to stay awake instead of sleep when my early labor began was hitting me hard. I was losing my grip on the pain.
The back labor was brutal. I have never felt anything like it. Everyone was rubbing my back with every bit of arm strength they had. When one would get tired I would yell for someone else to take over who could rub harder! I now know that all those days spent reclining in bed and sitting at the computer greatly contributed to my baby's less than optimal position.
Hours later, I was still 8.5 cm and still had the urge to push. I could not "blow through" anymore. I had tried different positions. The pain was excruciating. I had lost control of it at this point and was becoming hysterical with each contraction. I began to think about transporting. My midwives went out on the porch to let my husband and I discuss it.
EPIC FAIL. This was how I felt. But in the forefront of my mind was the pain. I could not relax. I could not breathe through. I feared that I would not be able to get past this point before the baby would begin to show signs of distress and then the surgery would be inevitable. If we went in now, got the epidural and I could relax, maybe the last of my cervix would move out of the way. We were going in.
I wasn't even dressed as we walked out the door. Someone threw a gown on me. I reminded my husband that he could NOT identify out birth team as midwives when we got there. One of them rode with us while the other stayed to clean up a bit at the house. The 11 minute drive seemed like hours. I could not sit down so I made use of the handle above the door that I had always wondered about its purpose. Now I know.
At the hospital, we looked like Ricky and Lucy Ricardo. My poor husband after listening to me scream for the last hours ran in desperately seeking help. I was met with a wheelchair which I could not fully sit down in. Upon being wheeled up to labor and delivery, I announced that no one was cutting me open. Everyone just looked at me. The nurse checked me and upon announcing that I was 8.5cm everyone began to scramble as if the baby would come any minute. Through tears and frustration I said, "I have been 8.5cm for HOURS. The baby is not coming PLEASE just get me an epidural." I was told I got the fastest epidural ever.
My doctor, one of the few who had been on board with my VBAC, looked me in the eye and said, "We don't operate on people who are 8.5cm" and I finally began to calm down as the pain subsided. I always have hot spots with epidurals so there was still pain, but nothing like before. Before I drifted off to sleep I looked over and saw my mother and my husband. My husband was weeping. I think he was just so relieved to see me relieved......and so relieved that he no longer had to help me work through the pain. We forget, as women, how hard labor is on our husbands. It is a helpless feeling for them. They can't fix it. They can't make it go away.
Four hours later, I felt different. The pressure had begun to build again. The baby was coming down. I began to bear down. It was only a few pushes until HE was out.
We didn't know what we were having. In the chaos, I forgot to ask that my husband announce the sex of the baby so I was informed my a throng of voices, "It's a boy!!!!" This was a little sad for me. I had hoped my husband would catch the baby and make the announcement. Oh well. My baby was here and came out of my vagina. I was thrilled.
My little howler (see www.fussybabymama.blogspot.com for the source of this nickname) came into the world at 7:48pm........24 hours after my water broke. He cried before even being fully delivered and came into the world hand first which explained a lot of the back labor and LONG hours stuck at 8.5cm. He weighed 8lbs 14oz, over a pound bigger than my other two children at birth.
That experience changed me. I knew if it hadn't been for my midwives and my hours at home, I would have ended up with another cesarean. The intricacies of that labor are not tolerated in the hospital. I have seen this as a doula multiple times. I was truly thankful.
Who knew at that time that my experience would lead me into the most amazing calling of my life......midwifery. My children have all made such an impression on me and it is an honor to walk with women through their own journeys to motherhood.
So Happy Birthday, my little howler. And thank you for the part you played in making me what I am today. I pray that I do the same for you in an equally powerful way.
