VBAC Lady

Relieved.

2010-02-20T23:30:00.002-05:00

She did it. She went in for her induction and it worked. She went into the hospital Thursday night and got her cervadil, and they started the pit sometime on Friday. The baby was born a little after nine, no cesarean necessary. She even did it without pain meds. So, I wish I could say I'm happy for them, but I can't because I'm still pretty bitter; but I will say that I am really relieved for all of them. I did ask DH to speak to them - in part about the awkward position it put him in, but also to let them know that just because I have opinions on a subject doesn't make me a bad person. I'm not sure DH conveyed everything as I hoped he would, but he did at least have the conversation. His friend's response, "I understand."

Slapped in the face

2010-02-15T21:52:00.007-05:00

A while ago, my husband had a confession to make to me. His best friend and his wife (also a friend) were expecting their first child, and my husband had been asked not to tell me about it. The friend told my husband that he didn't want me "pouncing" all over them with pregnancy and birth stuff - that's not exactly how he put it, but that's what I got. Apparently, I'd allegedly "attacked" his sister-in-law at one point (which was more likely due to not having anything else to talk about with anyone), and between that and the fact that I often post newsworthy birth-related items on my Facebook page, they wanted no part of me in their world. I feel very hurt and extremely insulted by this. I have behaved very well - I saw them for the first time since they got pregnant only a few days ago and barely acknowledged it. I didn't even talk to hubby's best friend the whole night. So now here she is, a few days past her estimated due date, and I have just read that her induction has been scheduled for three days from today. I am already filled with "I told you so's" - bitter ones - and I suspect there may be more to come. And I hate that. I hate it because what I know is that being a few days past one's due date isn't enough medical reason to induce. I know that inductions fail about half the time. I know that the practice she sees has a history of putting their needs in front of the women they claim to serve. I have seen them in action firsthand and there are at least a dozen OBGYNs I would recommend before I'd send someone there way. And now, for the first time since I learned of her pregnancy roughly eight months ago, I actually DO want to pounce on her - make sure she knows what she is getting into. Knows what the risks and benefits are on BOTH sides of the coin. Knows she can delay her induction and give her baby a more fair chance to have the healthiest birth possible. I wish I'd had someone around who knew what I know now, the first time I was pregnant. Truth is though, I probably wouldn't have taken much in. But I wouldn't have shut the door in her face either. There is a big part of me that wants to tell them to F*** off. I worry about what will happen to her and I am angry that I am worried. I suppose that is my own arrogance - that drive I have, to save the world. On the one hand, I must respect her journey as her own. After all, she is an intelligent adult woman who is capable of finding her own way. My own journey has been bittersweet, but I would not be leading the life I am leading now if I hadn't fallen and had to pick myself back up. I would not have made the discoveries about myself that I made. At the same time, I am angry that they know I am a resource, and they are so threatened by me that they stay away. All I am is a resource. I am not holding a knife. No matter what choices they make, I will not make a profit. I have nothing to gain nor lose, so why shut me out? If things had been normal... if my husband had just said, "Bob and Jane are going to have a baby," I might have said a congratulatory email and mentioned I had a lot of resources available - knowledge of area doulas, providers, childbirth educators, books, info sheets, websites - and if they had any questions, I am no more than a phone call away. I might have asked how they were doing when I saw them the other night. Instead, I am angry.

Part VI – Retrospective

2005-12-14T12:39:00.000-05:00

Would I do it all again? First of all, I’ve no regrets. I believe everything happened the way it was supposed to. Even with the pitocin, the IV, the epidural, etc., I think I (we) only did things that were actually necessary. I don't exactly like that these things were necessary, but I can truly say that I gave myself every possible chance of having a totally natural home birth, and it just wasn’t meant to go that way. And, given the bleeding and the extent of the meconium, perhaps if I’d been at home and these had occurred, the situation would have been more disastrous. I can’t say for sure, but I have to believe that something bigger than we know brought us to the hospital. We were just supposed to be there. I felt in control most of the time. At least, as in control as I can be. I made the choices. I chose what to fight and what not to fight. I chose going to the hospital rather than waiting it out. This birth was very much on my own terms, and I’m grateful to everything that happened before those days that brought me to be able to make those choices for myself. Of the things that would be in my power to change, I would not change a thing. But to do it again? It’s so complicated. First, I’ve always said I wanted three children. But, perhaps it’s because we’ve recently taken a massive blow to our finances that has no immediate means to remedy itself, a third child is a little scary right now. We don’t have a lot of space in our home to begin with, and I would want some hope of being able to move into a larger house. At this moment, it’s not going to happen. So, we’ll see. Economic factors aside, do I want to be pregnant again? I think that part would be ok. I really kind of enjoy being pregnant, but admittedly I was somewhat distracted this time and didn’t enjoy it as much as I wanted. Plus, the hot, hot summer was miserable. But if we do decide to have another baby, those are things that will be different – unique to the pregnancy itself. But, the part that is terrifying to me is, having to go through so much labor again. I would want to do it at home again, and if things didn’t progress as it happened this time, I would really start to question my body. I already am in a lot of ways. Why 4cm? Again? Sure, I can chalk up LittleGirl’s birth to a lot of tension and a hyperactive doctor with a great fear of litigation and apparently not enough time to consider his patients’ needs. And only being in labor for a few hours as I see it, I don’t think I was given a chance. But this time… jeez, I did everything. I gave myself time. I chanted things like "ohhh-pen… ohh-pen" and "I can do this" over and over again. I visualized. I relaxed. I rested as much as I could. I allowed myself time. I was loved and supported and free to labor however I needed to from moment to moment. But in the end, the only thing that really got me going was the pitocin. WTF? Maybe I was tired. I probably was. I hadn’t slept much that whole week. And maybe the combination of pitocin and a little rest really was all I needed, and if I’d been rested enough to begin with I would have been fine. But I just don’t know. And the thought of going through all that again only to land in the hospital – and by the way, no hope of an epidural ever again since my track record stands 0 for 2 in reacting well – it’s a little much to bare. But there’s nothing that says any of that would ever happen again. And then, there’s My Beloved. He was wonderful, patient, supportive, amazing. In reading back through my previous entries, I didn’t emphasize how amazing he was. I don’t know if I can now – if the words even exist. I could not have done it without him. We were so close, so connected. He was everything I knew I needed him to be and everything I didn’t know I needed. He truly was the rock that I clung to. So strong. So loving. I’ve always known he loved me, but I don’t think I have ever seen or felt it as much as I did when we were having our baby. He just knew who to be, what to do, how to love me, how to get me through it all. There would have been no VBAC without him. And even if there had been, it wouldn’t have held the same glory. That said, if you asked him today, he would tell you that he does not want to try to have another baby at home. He’s not sure he wants a third child anyway; and we’ve agreed to put that topic on hold for at least a year. But after seeing all the blood from my tear, (I did not require a transfusion, but there really was a lot of blood lost) and all the meconium that came out of Lindsay, he is no where near as confident about the safety of it all as he was before. He doesn’t think that these same situations would have been handled well by a home care provider. I can’t say as I know they would have either. But I know that a different baby brings a different labor. And I know that since we listened to ourselves, our instincts, my body, we made the right choices this time, and would likely do the same next time. But he doesn’t believe in divine intervention like I do. His faith is more easily shaken than mine is. The moments after her birth were really scary for him, and he thought he might lose one or both of us. I don’t know what to say to that. So, another baby is possible, but we just don’t know right now. I believe that you have another child because you feel your family is missing somebody, and every other reason to do it or not to do it is secondary to that. It’s just too soon to tell right now if that’s where we are. The really complicated part comes in the logistics. It could happen that another pregnancy would be more stressful, because we may never come to a place where we’re on the same page again. I still feel strongly that most births do not belong in hospitals. He now feels that for us, the gamut of emergencies that are better dealt with in a hospital is broader than he realized. It’s not important to argue about it now, but it’s going to be a major thing if we choose to have another baby.

Part V - BIRTH!!!

2005-12-14T12:35:00.000-05:00

Laying on my right side and with oxygen (because of the epidural, of course), I was starting to feel the contractions stronger again. It had only taken about an hour for it to wear off this time. But then, something amazing and out of the blue happened. I felt an overwhelming urge to get on all fours. Unsure if this was safe, I asked LMW and she said it would be fine. So with the swiftness, grace, willingness and speed of an Olympic gymnast I flipped over. LMW said she was stunned I had moved so well – as every other time I tried to move it was a real effort. All this, and my left leg was still pretty numb. Within one contraction on all fours, without comprehension of the fact that words were even coming out of my mouth, I said, "I have to push!!" LMW was quite surprised – it had only been a few minutes since she’d last checked me. I held back so she could get her gloves on. I kept asking if where I was on the table was ok, and moved myself to their instructions so I wouldn’t fall off or cause the baby to fall off. And there I was – 10cm – but with a lip. She told me it was fine to push but that she had to hold back a small bit of a lip. So there I was – I’m not even sure if I had a contraction or not, but I started pushing. Then, I know I had a contraction and I pushed even harder. The nurse told me not to scream or yell, but to hold my breath because it was more efficient. I argued with her in my head, but found that what she said was true – my baby seemed to move more when I held my breath. Then, MB took a look at his baby emerging from me. As I was on all fours, she was facing up, and was winking at him as she came into the world. He was so surprised to see that her eye was open! And then one more contraction with some pushing, and my little Lindsay Margaret was born! I think I pushed for less than 5 minutes – it was only two contractions at any rate, and it took no time at all. Once my body was opened enough, she was more than ready to come out and I was more than willing to get her there. I do wish I could have seen her come out myself, but even if there had been a mirror available, my position made it impossible. It was incredible, and exhilarating. I have never felt such elation, such a high before in my life. MB did not get to cut the cord. The nursery staff was late on arrival (I don’t think anyone expected things to go so quickly from the time I started pushing), and LMW was kind of on her own in delivery. And then, I’m told there was a good amount of meconium. Lindsay didn’t cry right away (I don’t think LG did either, for that matter), and they took her immediately to the warmer and suctioned her. In the end, they took 200ml out of her belly, I held her twice for a cumulative total of less than 5 minutes – and that was only upon the insistence of MB, and then she was taken up to the nursery after a while. I didn’t get to breastfeed her immediately like I wanted, and they did all the standard newborn procedures on her without my consent. I was mostly upset that they felt that she would do better in a warmer than on me, and argued with anyone who would hear me. But that was fruitless. It was 7 hours before they brought her to me to stay. Meanwhile, I suffered my own minor emergency. I had torn, apparently more on the inside than the outside, and I tore forward rather than towards my butt. I was bleeding quite a bit. LMW wasn’t sure if a trip to the OR would be necessary to repair me, because most of the tear was difficult to get at. They brought in all the residents, who manhandled me and finally determined that I did not need to go to the OR, and they fixed me up. I remember one of the residents asking if I’d torn or ruptured, and I all but rolled my eyes. I didn’t have to say anything though, because LMW took care of it. But I did lose a lot of blood. So, everything that happened during my labor in the hospital for the most part was really positive, in spite of pretty much my entire birth plan flying out the window. I made my own *informed* decisions. My nurse was kind, gentle, and positive. I loved her. My LMW was incredible. She never doubted that I would have a vaginal birth. She kept telling me so. I honestly believe she wanted this VBAC for me about as much as I did. And after I was all sewn up I said, "Thank you for believing in me." It brings tears to my eyes just to think about just how wonderful she really was. I will always have love in my heart for her. I have a lot of qualms about the things that happened to myself, and volumes more about the "procedures" that Lindsay was subjected to once she was born and even in the few days that followed after her birth including after we got home. A lot. Most of these are things I wouldn’t have noticed or known about after LG’s birth, but are big deals to me now. The biggest one of all being them not letting me see her and hold her – that keeping her under a heat lamp like a rotisserie chicken at a fast-food joint is somehow better for her than skin to skin contact with her mother. I could go on for a very long time about the things that made me mad. Nonetheless, the experience has been light years better. I have some hormones from time to time, but no postpartum depression. In fact, emotionally, I feel better than I have in years, maybe even before LG was born. It feels good to feel emotionally normal. And physically… wow. Yes, I’ve had some pain and discomfort. I’ve been tired. But I can move. I can breath. I can laugh. I can sleep on my sides. I can walk up and down stairs. I can lift. It’s so much more freeing. So, would I do it again? Have another child? Plan another homebirth? Those are big, loaded questions. I’ll save that for another blog entry ;-).

Part IV – Let the inteverntions begin!

2005-12-14T12:33:00.000-05:00

I was in the hospital for about 3 hours before the anesthesiologist came to administer the epidural. It seemed like it took him forever to do what he needed to do. The nurse who stayed with me in my room was so sweet and supportive, and let me hug her while he did his thing. The anesthesiologist was not my favorite person of the night. He was desperately lacking in personality. Like, when he came in I jokingly said, "Are you my new best friend?" and he had no idea what I meant by that. I also tried to explain to him that when I had an epidural with LG’s birth, my blood pressure plummeted and I had to lay on one side and breath through an oxygen mask. He had never heard of such a thing before, and kind of wrote me off. What a surprise for him when my BP plummeted, just like I’d described! And then the oxygen and he pushed five bags of saline or so into me too. And, some other meds. I’m not sure what all went into my body, frankly, but the guy was really freaked out. Finally, I laid on my right side (I told them that it had worked last time), and eventually it started to pick up. Apparently, it got as low as 90/40. And then I slept. I slept for about 2 or 3 hours… I think. I don’t really know. And somewhere in here they gave me the pitocin. Unlike last time where I was started on the highest dose and brought down, they started me on the lowest dose, and increased by one unit every ½ hour. The thing with the epidural was, it took very well on my left side but not as strongly on my right. So in what seemed like a very short time, I started feeling the contractions again. At first it was no big deal, but eventually, it wore off and I could feel everything. The pitocin had really taken flight, and I was having contractions on top of contraction. I begged for someone to make it stop. I begged for more epidural. I felt like this labor was showing me no mercy. I wept. They turned off the pitocin to see how I would do. The contractions slowed down enough for me to catch my breath. I kept begging for the anesthesiologist to offer more relief. He apparently was in surgery though, with someone else’s c/s. When he finally did come in, I had to beg him. I mean beg. If I could have, I would have gotten on my knees. He finally agreed, and gave me the smallest dose possible. It pretty much only numbed out my left side; I still felt everything on my right though it was dulled and bearable. The good news was, I was dilating! I was at 6 or 7 cms. And at some point, quite suddenly, I felt like I had to throw up. (I had been dry heaving here and there in the hospital during stronger contractions, but this was full on puking again). I realized that I was in transition! And a little later I was checked again, and I was at 7 or 8. I dilated on my own! But it wasn’t much relief to me, because I was still laboring. I was still frustrated. One more interruption until the final installment…

Part III – In the hospital

2005-12-14T12:28:00.000-05:00

So defeated. So frustrated. We both tried to keep our spirits up, but I for one was as zoned out and teary-eyed as a person can get on the ride in to the hospital. There is no way to accurately describe the mix of emotions we were both facing. We were both very aware that this was how it was now supposed to be – we were not willing to take any chances with the health of our baby or my health, and under the given circumstances, the hospital became the safer place to be. We really understood that, but it was a hard pill to swallow. I began to try to brace myself for the operating table, to try to reconcile that we had exhausted all other possibilities and it would be necessary if we had to get to that point. I was trying to think of what else to tell Legal Midwife. The interesting thing was, I wasn’t really… scared… I sort of knew everything would be ok, but I was really nervous about how we’d get there. I kept reminding myself of that saying, "God doesn’t give you anything more than you can handle", and that whatever was coming next would be something I could survive. We pulled into the hospital parking ramp and found a space towards the top. We were about four floors from the ground, and we waited for what seemed like about 10 minutes for the elevator to come before I decided that stairs were a better option. Did I mention I really had to pee? At this point, anything that brought me closer to a bathroom was a good option. So down all those flights of stairs we went, and I managed to not have a contraction. Some hospital staffers were at the ground floor waiting for the elevator, and made jovial comments like, "I know why you’re here". I know they had no idea what I was going through emotionally, and tried very hard to be polite and smile at them. As we made our way out of the ramp, across the street towards the hospital, it was clearly the end of the day for the working world around there. I really did not want to have a contraction in front of the whole world, but was sort of forced to. I tried so hard to hide it. My Beloved tried to tell me it was ok, but I really didn’t want to hear it. At the end of it though, it was impossible to hide, but it didn’t seem like many people were paying attention. This hospital is kind of a maze, but we had been there a few times before and knew our way through the bends of the hallways that would bring us up to the labor and delivery floor. I was grateful that LMW had told me exactly which floor, as I had made a concerted effort to avoid knowing anything about the hospital. I just didn’t want to be able to visualize being there lest that distract me from focusing on my birth at home. We made our way up to the L&D floor and checked in. It took forever to give the woman our information, exacerbated by the fact that the woman checking us in was kind of an idiot. (MB actually confirmed this because she had once worked with him in his office and had been terminated.) And then we were stuck in the waiting room for what seemed like forever, though it was probably less than half an hour. Finally, we were called in to the admitting/exam room. The table I had to sit on was adjusted so the back was really low and uncomfortable, and I was paranoid about moving in any way that might encourage Lindsay to turn in an unproductive way. I was so miserable in there. I was hooked up to an Electronic Fetal Monitor (EFM) and we waited for LMW to come in. While we waited, I noticed a chart on the wall that gave a visual reference for centimeters of dilation. I looked and thought, "Oh my gosh, I think I’m only 4cm". I did not say anything to MB about it, but that just made things worse. Finally LMW came in the room. We spoke for a bit, and then she said she had to do an exam. I assumed the position uncomfortably. She went to get a tool of some sort, and it wasn’t there. So I had to lie there while she went to find what she needed. That part may have felt the longest yet. Until… she gave me an internal vaginal exam with a speculum (AKA, "the duckbills"). VE’s are miserable for me in labor, and usually spawn the most painful contractions imaginable. And then, to top it there was this hard piece of metal inside me too. Augh. I screamed with pain and yelled, "TAKE IT OUT! TAKE IT OUT!" Which, at last, she did. And then she did another VE without the speculum. Like Illegal MW had said, she thought that the baby had hair and it made it difficult for her to tell how dilated I was, but she was pretty certain I was at 4cm. Yes, the dreaded 4cm. The number I got "stuck" at with Little Girl. 3 days of labor had brought me to 4cm. Unbelievable. I just wanted to give up right then and there. I was beside myself. We were then taken to the L&D room where I would spend the rest of my labor. I uttered the words to my husband, "I don’t know how I can do this anymore. I can’t. I want to give up." He was feeling just as sad as I was. He was really scared too – scared of what was going on, scared of what might happen, scared of how I might handle it. He was not anxious to relive everything we’d worked so hard to get through over the past 2.5 years. I think he was most scared of trying to help me get through that kind of depression again. He was still trying to figure out how to deal with me Immediately I was hooked up to an EFM – not a telemetry unit like I had specified in my birth plan, but I didn’t care. I had no intention of moving around – I needed rest. And hospital policy would not allow me to have a hep-trap, so I was hooked up to an IV. The first of nearly every part of my birth plan to go out the window. The nicest thing was that everyone I dealt with in the L&D came in to introduce themselves to me. And, they all told me they had read my birth plan, and asked me questions about it. It was so refreshing, and I actually felt respected. This was a major plus. (Of course, in an hour or so the shift changed and I didn’t have the new people do that, but I didn’t care by then!) Meanwhile, I was weighing my choices. How much more labor could I endure? Would it be better just to let it go and have the surgery? But, if I had the surgery, would I still end up wondering "what if?" Might it be better if I did decide to do it – because it would be on my terms? Or would it only lead to hating myself even more? I knew one thing: I needed desperately to rest. So, against my better judgement, I requested an epidural. LMW suggested one other thing which was against my better judgement: pitocin. I did not want to hear about that. I was certain that pitocin would cause a rupture, or that it would cause the same decelerations that led to my c/s. LMW said that my contractions were strong enough, and that Lindsay was right there at my cervix, just waiting for it to open up, but they needed to get closer together. LMW left the room, and I talked to MB about it. He wasn’t sure what to say. He understood both sides – why I did not want it, but also why it might be good. He suggested I call IMW and get her opinion. I thought this was a good idea. IMW said she would definitely take the pitocin. She was concerned about hemorrhage, and felt it was actually important to try this route. She said she didn’t know what else would work, and things weren’t picking up for me by any other means. So I agreed. More to come… Is this exciting or what?

Part II - The Ride to the Hospital

2005-12-13T17:15:00.000-05:00

So, Friday afternoon, feeling fairly defeated that we did get my contractions to pick up, I decided to rest. IMW checked me again, and thought I might be at 8 or 9 cms, but it was really hard to tell because my water was broken and she wasn’t sure if she was feeling hair or cervix. Eventually, IMW left, and contacted some of her colleagues who are more experienced MWs, and one suggested I might be exhausted, and to try to rest some more. She thought that IMW may have miscalculated my dilation and that it was possible that I was still at 4cms. I refused to believe this though. A LMW called from my "official" practice. She wanted to know how I was doing (I had skipped my appointment for that week) and also, as I was officially post-dates, wanted to know when we could schedule my c-section. I found this to be an incredibly easy conversation, though I was forced to lie through my teeth and tell her I was not showing any real signs of labor. It was kind of amusing. I scheduled my c/s for the first available appointment on Monday morning, proud of myself that this did not disturb me at all. But, soon I started to get chills, but my face felt flushed. At first I just kind of wrote it off, but then I started thinking… this felt like a fever. I waited a little bit more, and then when it didn’t change, I took my temperature. It was 100.6 – I took it 3 times. While ordinarily this would only be a very low-grade fever and nothing at all to worry about [to Jenny V in the UK, 98.6 is considered a normal temperature, and a fever is anything 1 degree or more from that by most standards], being that my water was broken and I was so tired, I got concerned. We decided to call IMW, and she suggested several homeopathic options, or we could go to the hospital. This was such a hard choice to make. I didn’t have a lot of faith in the homeopathic choices working fast enough, but I didn’t want to end up being slaughtered again. In the end, I decided not to take any chances, and like it or not, heading to the hospital was becoming the safer choice. We had done just about everything we could do at home, and between the fever and the contractions not picking up, it was getting to be beyond the scope of IMW’s capacity. So, I had to contact LMW. I didn’t want her to know I had lied to her, and felt a little bad, so I had to cover my tracks. I told her that I hadn’t been sure but I thought my water broke the night before… in the tub rather than on my couch… and I didn’t really put it together that it had happened until just now. I told her contractions started pounding in shortly after I hung up with her. I told her I thought I had a fever, and also that I hadn’t slept hardly at all in three days. And that we were coming in. Getting ready to go to the hospital and the trip there were so hard. Grudgingly does not even begin to describe. We were defeated, and MB and I had to keep reminding each other that it was not the end of the road, this did not have to mean an automatic c/s. Packing was almost impossible – we had not prepared ahead of time for this because we didn’t want to focus on it. We forgot a lot of things – in fact, it’s amazing we remembered half of what we brought. And then we got into our car and drove off. It was a very long 15-minute ride. More Later…

The Birth of Lindsay Margaret – Part One

2005-11-24T23:39:00.000-05:00

It was Monday morning – Halloween, but about 2:45am – and I awoke with contractions. They were steady, but not very strong. I did manage to get myself pretty excited though, and stayed awake hoping they would turn into something. I put MyBeloved on notice that something was happening, but I didn’t think it was necessary for him to stay home from work. But, they didn’t progress and in fact they fizzled out about the time he left for work. They came back, but still not strong. That night, I took LittleGirl Trick or Treating, hoping the walk up and down our street might inspire something further. But, nothing. And Tuesday was uneventful… I think – it was either Monday or Tuesday my mucous plug came out, which was interesting because that was something that didn’t happen until I was well in labor with LG. As mentioned in a previous entry, Illegal Midwife told me that baby girls tend to be born during the New Moon – that was Wednesday. And in fact, again, around 2:30am I woke up with contractions. These were stronger than before, and I was cautiously optimistic. Very cautious. My instincts nervously told me that it would still be ok for MB to go to work and that it was not time to call my mother to have her watch LG. But I was feeling strange; feeling like important was going on. I call this the beginning of my labor, because I was compelled to pay attention, even though the contractions were still not the caliber I had with LG. I walked around the house outside, took extra time to play with LG, grooved to my Black Eyed Peas CD (Elephunk – with great songs for labor like, "Labor Day (It’s a Holiday)" and "Hey Mama"), and tried to enjoy the last few hours of being a 3-person family. And then, again at 2:30am on Thursday… whammo! No doubt that this was it. I decided not to time them, but they were strong and steady. Around 4am MB [finally!] woke up and tried to comfort me. I kept asking him to call my mom and IMW, but he told me it wasn’t time yet. Finally I insisted on him calling my mom at least, and after trying to get a hold of her for over an hour, I called her myself, and got through. She answered the phone and I could tell I was making her nervous by being in labor, but she came right over. I’d made the decision early in labor that it probably wasn’t a good idea for LG to be around… she is very attached to me and I was in no position to explain to her why I couldn’t give her my usual full attention. So my mom picked her up and she stayed with her grandparents. Shortly after my mom and daughter left, IMW came to check on me. I asked her to do an internal exam, and she thought I was around 3-4cm. After watching me and occasionally checking fetal heart tones, she left and said she’d check in with us in a little while. At some point I took a shower, and at another point I sat in the warm tub with the shower water on my belly, which felt wonderful. I did that at least one more time during my labor at home. My contractions grew stronger, but did not grow closer together. IMW made phone calls to check in with me, and occasionally popped in. I couldn’t seem to keep any food down and she had concerns, so I made concerted efforts to drink plenty of fluid. The big surprise of the night was around 7pm when my water broke! That was such a surprise to me, and was reassuring and wonderful. My water had been broken artificially with LG, so this was progress, a milestone, and a rite of passage. But, Thursday came and eventually left. There was no baby yet, and MB and I hadn’t slept much at all. By Friday I was simply exhausted. Still nauseated from contractions (I’m kind of a puker anyway), I managed to eat some eggs and toast but it took me all day. Then we noticed something disheartening – that my contractions had actually slowed down. They had gone from 7 minutes apart to about 15. IMW was very concerned about this, and gave us some suggestions to get them rolling again. We tried all of them, and for a time the contractions did pick up again, but when I stopped doing them, they spaced out again. Time to nurse baby – stay tuned for more of my birthing adventure!

She's Here!!!!!!!!

2005-11-08T15:59:00.000-05:00

Just a quick post - will post more when I'm more "up to it"... Lindsay is here! Though not on the New Moon, labor did begin Wed. afternoon and was full throttle by Thursday AM. She was (finally!) born at 3:38 am on Saturday morning at the hospital. In short, I was really exhausted, my contractions were strong but not close enough together to get them to open me up, and then by Friday afternoon I seemed to have a low fever. Though she appeared to be tolerating everything very well, it seemed like the hospital would be the bette place to be for both of us. So, the birth plan went out the window, but, I know what you're wondering, "Is VBAC Lady still VBAC lady?" the answer is... YES!!!!!!!!!! More details to come...

No News Yet...

2005-10-31T14:26:00.001-05:00

Yep, here it is, Halloween, five days past my estimated due date, and I’m still pregnant. Very, very pregnant. I’m finding myself in new territory, as with BabyGirl – I’m sorry, now LittleGirl - I went into labor on my own exactly on my due date. I was certain this little booger would come a little early, but my little Halloween prankster apparently has other things in mind. This has brought a small amount of anxiety, of course, but I am trying to be patient. Illegal Midwife told me a few weeks ago that baby girls tend to be born on a new moon (and boys on a full moon) and the new moon is Wednesday. Cross your fingers for me! I thought I was getting close – on Friday last week I woke up at 4am with some good contractions. But, alas, they fizzled out after about three hours. Damn it. I keep trying to remind myself that she will come when she’s ready to, and that she can take as long as she needs. That was so much easier to say two months ago. Still, everyone around me is asking questions like, "so when do you go in to be induced"? My response is, "never!" Despite my anxiousness to get this kid out, I have no reservations about sticking to my guns on this one. I had my most recent Legal Midwife appointment on Wednesday, which sort of sent me into a bit of a worry spiral. I was, in a way, hornswaggled into a non-stress test, which is where they strap your belly to a fetal monitor and a contraction monitor, and then you have to hit a little button whenever the you feel the baby move. I say hornswaggled, because I wasn’t expecting it and all of the sudden she was strapping me to the machine, and I didn’t question it right away. It wasn’t until we got to the part where I had to hit the button where I realized what she was doing. Not really a huge deal, but I do wish she had explained what she was doing. And my baby was fine, so there. But then LM essentially told me I "have to" go in for an ultrasound at 41 weeks to do a Biophysical Profile, and that didn’t sit well with me. She painted a very vivid picture of how my baby might be in my uterus, all floppy and stressed out, which was rather frightening. But on the other hand, I know of women who have gone in for these tests only to be told that the baby was in distress and needed to come out ASAP, then go right to the hospital for an "emergency" cesarean, only to find that the baby is perfectly fine. This brings in that issue of, is it better to let your baby actually get stressed out, or to have the cesarean as a measure for "just in case" with both of us suffering the consequences of unnecessary surgery. So I don’t want to have the test. I did question – if she is moving well and her heartbeat is fine, then is this really necessary? LM said yes, because it helps measure fluid and to see if she is reacting properly. I’m thinking no. I think it’s more important for me to trust. Of course, there’s that mommy voice of, God forbid something goes wrong and it was preventable and ultimately it’s my fault because I made certain choices. MyBeloved says I invent things to worry about…

Somebody PLEASE, Stick a Fork in Me

2005-10-14T15:36:00.000-04:00

I am SO done! I am ready to have this baby. As far as I can see, the sooner she comes, the sooner I can lay on my back, the sooner I can think about getting some sleep (I know that actually won’t be for a while anyway but nonetheless the sooner she comes the sooner we get past that point)… Ok baby, any time now. I’ve already gotten clearance from my Illegal MW to have her – she was full term (37 wks) about 1.5 weeks ago. I’m feeling like she’s coming early; though I’m not holding my breath because I said that all throughout my pregnancy with BabyGirl. (Should I start calling her LittleGirl now?) All I know is I’m sick of being pregnant. Oh sure, I’ll miss the kicking and that wonderful feeling of life growing and being nurtured inside me. But I’m freaking exhausted now and I’m tired of waiting around. Let’s get this party started. I did have some full-throttle nesting neurosis this week. I cleaned the kitchen, including being on my hands and knees to scrub the floor, and then the next day I cleaned the bathroom. I’m ticked off at MyBeloved though, because last night was garbage night and he did not change the kitty litter nor sweep the bathroom floor, so I cannot mop in there yet. I don’t think he realizes that his life is at stake ;-) And then, our toilet is broken – not in a non-functional way, just in a pain-in-the-butt-needs-a-$3-piece-to-flush-it-properly way and so all my stuff that sits on top of the toilet is in the hall and I can’t put it away until he gets the part. I would get it myself and could probably even fix it, but alas, I have neither car nor cash with which to go to the hardware store. And he’s not really going to be around to do anything about it until maybe Sunday. So until then all my hair styling and makeup stuff that I rarely use anyway is sitting in a massive pile on the floor so we can reach into the toilet tank and pull the little chain. I am definitely feeling crankier than usual. Of course, it didn’t help that last night I was up until 2am trying to get MyBeloved to settle down after an apparently disturbing rescue call (he is a volunteer fire fighter). If I weren’t so close to babytime, I would have made him tell me all about it so that he wouldn’t have to bottle it in, but especially based on the reaction he had, I could tell it was pretty gruesome and I felt it best to protect my mindset. All I know is that he said it was far worse than the last time he was genuinely disturbed by an accident scene, and in that case, an elderly man was a victim of a hit-and-run and they called the fire department to hose down the street of some of the poor gentleman’s…er… remains. That one shook MB for days. So I spent the wee hours trying to distract him – talking to him about other stuff and making him turn the TV on to watch Sex in the City reruns. Fortunately, by the time the show was over he was snoring, but then was up :45 min later for another emergency call. Poor thing :-(

Thanks, Jenny from the UK :)

2005-09-07T22:28:00.000-04:00

My ever-faithful message poster, Jenny, said something in her last post to me that really struck a chord... That she found she also not able to work through all her feelings before her HBAC, but after, many things cleared up as she realized that many of her negative feelings were combined with fears that she would not achieve vaginal birth. Reading that... it was a massive weight lifted off my shoulders. Reading what she said made me feel so relieved. I'm not "on the clock" to fix myself on time. I can just do the best I can. I know where Illegal Midwife was coming from. She also had a traumatic birth experience - not a c/s, and I've never asked her the details, but I know she really understands me and I think she said it to help me protect me from myself. I'm glad she did... I know she was not trying to scare me, but rather maybe help me make healing a priority. But, I really don't think I'll be able to heal until I have unquestionable proof that I can do this. And the reason I'm glad she said it is because it awakened me to the reality that in many ways, this birth could be more difficult. I know what BabyGirl's birth brought me (will have to come up with new nickname for her soon!) and I'm just not convinced there are many pains out there that I could feel so sharply. So, if this baby and I are going to have to fight through some things to get the job done, so be it. The spiritual side of me is frightened. I believe deeply in the "God doesn't give you more than you can handle" philosophy of life, but I feel so damaged by the feelings I experienced after BabyGirl's birth, and there is a part of me that questions how God could do that to me. Surely He would know I would react that way. I try to view it as a gift but right now it is like an ugly sweater that doesn't fit at all and yet you have to wear it all the time. But I am handling it... so the philosophy runs true. I don't think I could handle much more than that though, and I'm not anxious to test it out. But I trusted God with the birth of my first daughter - that everything would go nicely and we'd both be ok - I had no indication that I would wind up so angry and hurting and fighting every single day. So do I trust again? I just don't want to be hurt. And in many ways, it would hurt even more if I went through it again - after all I've done to circumvent another cesarean.... to have it all wind up the same way. In some ways it might be easier to accept... at this point nobody's cutting me open unless they have a damn good reason to, so at least that particular aspect shouldn't be called into question. But to do it again... with all those feelings of failure... I don't know if that's a pill I can swallow again. Would God allow me to go through that again? There are people who have certainly suffered worse fates... But, instead of sitting around and focusing on all the scary things that might happen, Oh my goodness, I'm HAVING A BABY!!! SOON!! I have spent so much time crying and worrying during this pregnancy, my poor little baby is going to come out with neurosis! And so, having lined up what I feel to be the best care for us, having placed all the appropriate buffers, all I have left is to let go and enjoy this pregnancy and get to know the little baby girl who is growing inside me. Who beats me up at night. Who seemed to like that Todd Rungren (sp?) song "I don't want to work, I just want to bang on the drum all day" song today. Who gets SO excited when I eat anything. And so My Beloved and I went and bought her some clothes of her own - a few things that won't be hand-me-downs - something to wear on her first day of life outside the womb. And then some days later we bought most of our supplies for having this baby at home. Today, I washed the towels and her new clothes, and felt so happy. I haven't felt so happy about my little angel yet. Of course I've been thrilled about being pregnant, about having another little monkey. all of those things... but I finally felt free of having to worry so much about how she's going to get here and have been able to experience the joy of anticipating her arrival. That's really all I can do now. Thanks, Jenny :)

How to forgive myself in 10 weeks (or less)

2005-08-30T13:04:00.000-04:00

Oprah Winfrey said in an episode a while back that a most valuable and wise thing said to her was "Forgiveness is letting go of the chance that the past could have been any different." Further, it is not saying "it’s ok that it happened". I guess in many ways, forgiveness is the ability to look back and say "yep, that really sucked, but it happened." Oh, how I need to let go. I know I have a hard time letting go of things. I attribute this particular characteristic to an otherwise highly useful long-term memory filled with great detail, including emotions. I often remember how I felt about something before I remember everything that led to those emotions. I am also a very sensitive individual. I have always been among the first in my family to cry, to laugh, to explode… I definitely "feel" things deeply and it’s crucial to my wellbeing to express myself. It’s just who I am. It’s not that I am an unforgiving person either. It’s just that some things are harder than others. I can usually forgive other people somewhere down the line, but mostly, I have a hard time forgiving myself. Which leads me to where I’m at in my VBAC journey. I feel that there’s still a lot of damage to repair in order to be able to give birth to this baby peacefully, in the way that she deserves. I was discussing this with Illegal Midwife the other day. Specifically, how strongly I reacted to Legal Midwife’s pronouncement that I would need an ultrasound to determine if my baby is breech in a few weeks. Hostility towards the medical establishment and terror/paranoia are just a couple of emotions that bubbled up. IMW said, "I sense that you still have some anger" and "I expect this may be a challenging birth for you with all the emotions you have". She suggested that I find some method of forgiveness. But, damn it, I just don’t know what that is. If I break it down, to forgive pretty much means letting down my guard, and if I do that, I become vulnerable, and if I become vulnerable, I run a major risk of reliving all that hurt I felt after BabyGirl was born. That, to me, is so scary. I (barely) lived through it once, and I’m not eager to test my fortitude by doing it again. I’m too scared to be that sad/angry/hurt/frustrated again. There are only a handful of circumstances that would be worse. So how do I forgive without letting down my guard?

VBAC Lady's Lament

2005-08-15T10:51:00.000-04:00

This is so frustrating... At the beginning of my pregnancy, I struggled with whether or not I was compatible with the new OB practice I'd selected. In the middle of my pregnancy, I decided that in fact I was not compatible with them and decided I needed to switch. But I had to learn the results of my 3-hr gestational diabetes test in order to switch, because the MW group I wanted could not accept me if the results were unfavorable. And then right around the same time, my illegal HBMW tells me she's moving across the country and not certain she'll be around for my birth. Then, oh sunlight and happy days, the GST came back fine, my IHBMW decides she will stay in town by whatever means necessary to see my birth through, and I can happily switch to the MW group for my backup care. For a moment there, life was sooo good. But then, at my last IHBMW appt, she says, "now, you want that baby to turn to head down, ok? So, start asking her to do it." - IHBMW has no experience with breech babies and is not comfortable practicing on me. But, at 26 wks or so, it was easy to say, "eh, she'll turn in good time." Now at 30 wks, I had my first official appointment with the Hospital MW group. Met a different MW than before. She starts talking, "Oh, I see at your 24 wk u/s your baby was breech." (mind you, she didn't feel around to see if she could tell.) Me: "I thought that wouldn't be a major concern until like, 37 wks or so." Her: "Oh no, it's really not, but we'll probably want to schedule a u/s at 36 wks just to be sure, for your best interests. Frankly, I don't think there's a doc who does external versions on VBAC patients in town. They probably wouldn't touch you." Why do I, once again, have that feeling that these people (IHBMW excluded) are sharpening their knives and drooling at the site of me????? I am totally tripping out now. I thought I would be safer with this mw group, and now I'm not so sure. I want to be able to ignore them... I just don't know how... it's just such a big deal to me. I'm trying to separate out in my head at what lengths I will go to in order to not be cut again, and I'm afraid it will cloud my judgement should a really good reason arise. I don't know how I can subject myself to it again. Not after fighting so hard, learning so much to not have to do it again. I don't know how to survive another cut. I feel like I've barely survived the first. I just don't feel like I have the strength - and I don't want to have to find out whether or not I really do. It seems so unfair to have so much at stake on this poor, innocent baby's birth. My little girl. It's almost as though her little life inside me has grown secondary to achieving this VBAC. It's not right. And yet, every time I get a few moments to really start thinking about her - who she is, who she will become - I get cut off at the head with something new to worry about. I really resent the cesarean that put me in this position. This is one aspect of life where I'd be grateful to be normal.

Reconciling the Report

2005-06-24T20:57:00.000-04:00

I got my records today from BabyGirl’s birth. I’m just wrecked, shredded… I feel absolutely awful. And I’m even more lost about it than I was before I had the details. In a nutshell, the official reasons for the cesarean were consistent with what I was told at the time: pitocin caused fetal distress and my dilation was stalled. The most positive thing is that I have a low-transverse incision, which means they cut horizontally across my lower abdomen. If I’d had a classical (vertical from belly button down) or anything similar to that (there are also occasionally T-incisions) there would be a much greater risk of complications. Of course, I was not particularly surprised by this, but because of the nature of the operation one can’t be sure unless she’s told it is so – the scar on the outside is no indication of what they did on the inside. I also found out that she was OP – which means she was malpositioned, facing up. This part is hard to take, because I really believed all along that she was in there properly, and I had painful contractions but no back labor. There’s a recent study that says women who have epidurals before 5cm are more likely to have malpositioned babies, and I was at 4 when I received mind, so maybe that’s why. But I suppose I’ll never be certain. When they took her out, they had to use vacuum suction 3 times before she would come, and they had to lengthen my incision by 2cm. So maybe she really was stuck in there, but I have all these questions like, if I’d had better support, maybe I could have relaxed more and she’d have had more room to move properly, or maybe I could have tried other positions to allow her to pass through properly. The worst thing about getting these records is that I'd hoped they would provide me with a definitive "Yes, this was necessary" or a "This could totally have been prevented". Really, it didn't. It actually in many ways has made me feel worse. Of course, I blame myself for the whole thing. Even though Dr. Evil was clearly a misogynistic asshole, I had choices, and I could have left his practice when I first realized it. I wish I hadn’t been so stupid. Just reliving this whole thing has been so difficult. I was anxious about learning the details of the report in the first place to the point where I was crying in the exam room before the NP or MW or whomever she was came in. And then when My Beloved and I got into the car I couldn’t stop crying all the way to my parents’ house. I was like a zombie the whole day, crying every moment I was alone because the thoughts would creep back in. And later, when MB came from work to pick me up from my parents’ house he was mad at me for some silly remark I’d made (really, a nothing kind of remark and if my tone hadn’t been so flat from the whole day, he might have gotten it that way) and didn’t want to even speak to me and when we got in the car and told me so much, I freaked out and… well… it was a long night. I haven’t had a freakout like that in months, and was feeling so pleased with myself, because when I was pregnant with BabyGirl I’d had a few by now. I was just looking for someplace soft to let it all out and instead, I met a brick wall with sharp pointed spikes sticking out of it. He had no idea that I was still upset, and thought that all that rage pouring out was as a result of the report – which, it was more than anything, but I wouldn’t have freaked out if he’d been kind to me instead of cold. We’re both better now, but it’s been rough and I know I haven’t completely recovered. I’m just trying to let the energy and the positivity of life and pregnancy trickle back into my system, which is somewhat of a battle at the moment. But I’ll be all right…

Catching up

2005-06-16T19:55:00.000-04:00

It’s been a while, oops!

More or less, my pregnancy has been uneventful. By this point when I was pregnant with BabyGirl, I was still throwing up regularly, and starting to have braxton-hicks contractions, and even had gone to the hospital because I was concerned that they were too regular. I also was semi-convinced I had gestational diabetes after an incident where I was visiting a friend and her newborn in the hospital and I very nearly fainted, but in both the cases of the contractions and the gestational diabetes, all was for naught.

This time, I’m much less worried about such things, so that’s the good news.

I am typing this offline right now because I seem to have problems with blogspot when I hit return, so I’m not sure exactly where I left off other than it was sometime in April. But I have officially committed to my illegal apprentice midwife, who is wonderful and kind and absolutely on the same page as I am. I also continue to see the OB as shadow care… I’m somewhat more confident about her interests, but of course I’ll always have doubts. The only thing I’m worried about right now is that we were just informed that our insurance says we’ll have to pre-pay her office 10% for the labor and delivery, so I’m not sure what happens when she doesn’t get to do it. Plus, it’s going to be really hard to come up with that cash, though it’s not really that much.

By the way, according to our ultrasound a few weeks ago, it’s another girl!

Met the OB!

2005-04-28T13:50:00.000-04:00

Finally, on Monday we met the OB. I brought My Beloved along… he is very supportive of coming to appointments with me and likes to be a part of the whole thing. It was interesting, and we both walked away not knowing what to think of her. She took out my cesarean birth plan that I’d given the NP during my previous visit and said, "So am I to understand that you wish to have a repeat cesarean?" and I said, "Absolutely not, I just wanted to make it clear, the terms by which I will allow a cesarean to occur." We discussed my plan, and she had a few items which she could not fully concede to, but overall it was amicable. Then she decided to tell me all about a woman, not her patient, who wanted a VBAC and birthed the child fine but then ruptured and required a hysterectomy. She was very pointed in telling me this story, and referred to it a few more times before the appointment concluded. I asked her, "What is your level of confidence in VBAC?" and she said, "Well, if this were 15 years ago, we all were insisting upon it. But in this day and age of lawsuits, ‘they’re’ discouraging us". So I then asked, "But take out the legal issues. Do you have confidence in it?" Her answer was, "I’ll support whatever you want to do, and if it turns out we need to give you a hysterectomy afterwards, I’m ok with that." What am I supposed to do with this information? It was almost a back-handed threat... And then, she later balanced the story with another one where her own patient was planning a VBAC, got tired at 8cm and baby wasn't coming down, asked for a c/s, sat up to be prepped for the epidural, baby dropped, Mom dilated and baby was born within an hour. Maybe I should have made it clear that I wasn’t looking for any promises, just her feelings. Still not sure I’m keeping this one. But I am fairly certain that we will be going to use the illegal midwife. Had a very nice conversation with her last week, and I’m going to meet her at my next ICAN meeting. Hopefully, all will go well.

The Results Are In!

2005-04-06T12:46:00.000-04:00

I had my first ultrasound today! I realize there is some controversy about the use of u/s and the necessity of it all, but truthfully (and selfishly), I really enjoy it as a luxury. So, I’m willing to do it, but mainly for my own indulgences. I don’t intend on having many more though. Probably just the routine 18 week one. We did get to see Jr. Wiggleworm today – though my baby wasn’t wiggling much at all. However, there was a very obvious heartbeat going pretty well in the baby’s chest and he or she seems to be forming very well. It was so beautiful. I had a few tears. It all of the sudden became so much more real! I think I’ve been slightly in denial about this pregnancy… mainly because my intuition was telling me I was but my home pregnancy tests were telling me I wasn’t. So when that last test came back positive a month ago, it was a little shocking. I’ve been saying all along that I thought I would be due around Halloween. Of course, when I told the OB’s office that, they all gave me the hairy eyeball, as if I don’t know my own body. I always had to "prove it" by telling them about the two previous pregnancy tests. Anyway, the point here is that, guess what? I’m due right around Halloween! Go figure. My "official" due date is October 26th. This is my official decree that only I get to have the final say about what happens to my baby and my body. My opinion and intuition are the only ones that truly matter. Which leads me to the point where I’m pretty sure I’m leaving this practice. They just aren’t very friendly, and I showed up on time and nobody even acknowledged my presence until the US tech came out and called for me. And then we saw the OB in the hallway, and though she did say hi, she either didn’t realize she didn’t know us or didn’t bother to introduce herself. Nice, personal attention :-P

One Foot Out the Door

2005-04-01T08:18:00.000-05:00

I had my first "real" appointment with the OB office this past Monday. Overall, I was not impressed. On the plus side, they called me into the office on time, but then I waited nearly half an hour before anyone saw me. I found out I don’t weigh as much as I thought I might, and being that I’m pregnant, I’m not too worried about it anyway. My blood pressure was a perfect 120/80 – something I was concerned about because I had some anxiety about going. There is a tender lump in my armpit but it’s probably a swollen lymph node and nothing serious. These were the positives. However, when I got in the room and was told to undress completely and wear a paper gown with the front open, I really had to kind of psyche myself up for that. I’m not really opposed to preventative medicine, but I just felt this strong sense of… "Why is it supposed to be normal for me to allow you people to see parts of me that I only have willingly let my husband see?" I mean, here are these complete strangers, they’ve barely introduced themselves to me and they want to look at and… infiltrate my sexual being. They don’t even take you out to dinner first. I really felt intruded upon. And moreover, it was probably the most painful internal examination I’ve ever had of that nature. It caused me to spot more than I thought I should, and left me crampy and frightened for my baby for two days. I’m not sure if she was exceptionally rough, or if I was just that tense and untrusting. Maybe all of that. I’m pretty sure my baby’s fine now, but who needs that? I’m a healthy woman. Heavy, probably with high cholesterol, but otherwise have always been in good health. The next time I allow anyone to check my bits and pieces, it will be because I want them to. That was the other thing… I still didn’t get to meet the doctor, and the Nurse Practitioner who did everything really couldn’t have cared less if I had a third leg or a head made of broccoli. I made many attempts to reach out to her and humanize myself to her and yet I’m pretty sure she just wanted to push me through like every other sheep she gets to herd in a day. She had no interest in addressing my concerns. It wasn’t as though she was a cruel, cold person, but she was clearly focused on her specific task and didn’t leave any room for me to question. And when I did, I could tell it threw her off. I have an ultrasound on Wednesday, which I do want so that I have a clearer idea of when this baby might come. After that, I will give them one more chance to impress me, and then if they don’t I’m on to someone else. Still working on getting my homebirth ducks in a row anyway.

Metaphoric Purging

2005-03-22T00:15:00.000-05:00

How is a woman as tired as I am still awake? I’m pregnant and sleepy but I can’t seem to slow my brain down long enough to let myself relax tonight. It’s been like this often so far since I’ve known that I’m pregnant. Tonight I am all wound up. I was a little to begin with, then I went to a Ladies Auxiliary meeting (My Beloved is a volunteer firefighter) and afterwards I was speaking with one of the women who is a doula and another woman whom I have talked birth-talk with a few times and we were just all chatting it up and I was explaining how I didn’t think I’d find an OB who was suitable for my needs and a few other ladies began to chime in, "Oh, you should see Dr. Blahblah! She’s WONDERFUL!", "Oh, I think Dr. Hoosiehoose is the GREATEST!" and then one said, "Oh, Dr. Evil is the best!" and I had a most violent reaction! I told her… "Sure, he’s probably a fine GYN, and as long as you don’t care what happens to your body he’s a fine OB too" and went off on how I would like to take a dull plastic knife, cut off his nuts and make him eat them and how I would cheerfully kill him if there weren’t laws preventing it. My whole body was tense, like, clutching my fists, elbows bent up and keeping my arms tight into my body, and I was probably yelling – at least speaking in a loud tone. And I could feel myself doing it, and I told myself to calm down, but I couldn’t find the words and the breaths in time to do it. I’m sure they all think I’m nuts now. I couldn’t believe how ANGRY I still am! I had already gotten myself riled up about what a bastard he is in my mind at that point, but I was unprepared to hear someone else sing his praises. I guess I still have some "forgiveness" work to do. Sheesh. I’ve made an appointment to see an OB. This was so difficult, although I managed to do it before seeing about a MW. This OB will "let" me go 42 wks and will not use induction agents. I’m trying to reconcile in my head that it just doesn’t even matter because I have no intention of allowing this woman to participate in my child’s birth, but nonetheless, when I got off the phone with the office I was in tears and shaking. Took me an hour or so to calm down. The whole thing was really upsetting. Then, to top it off, a few hours after the phone call, MB calls me and says, "Dr. Has-two-MWs is supposedly kind of abrasive. Have you heard of Dr. Lets-dads-catch-babies? I’m told he’s probably more your speed." Now, understand that, earlier that day I’d had a conversation with MB who was pushing for me to find an OB (I agree, I just don’t like it) and told me, "Just call Dr. Has-two-MWs – she sounds fine", so of course it’s only after the fact, after I’ve somewhat recovered, that this other OB surfaces. It’s not like it’s his fault, but sheesh, what a help. I actually was aware of Dr. LDCB before, but had a bad experience with his receptionist while looking and figured it wasn’t worth the aggravation. If it doesn’t work out with Dr. HTMW, it’s not like I can’t switch. I’m open to whoever gives me the best info and best gut reaction. I actually have been feeling a little chicken about HTMW since before I called… actually since my friend who is having the baby in July told me some things that she was told when she spoke with HTMW’s office that were contrary to things HTMW told me. Granted, friend and I are VBACs for two different reasons… her baby was malpositioned, she labored for 19 hrs and was just tired and had enough. But, I don’t know. We’ll see. *sigh* Now, I'm still too awake to sleep...

Gun-shy

2005-03-14T21:50:00.000-05:00

I'm feeling a little gun-shy about finding prenatal care providers. My choices are rather limited for a homebirth. At the moment, there are three midwives who will do Home Birth After Cesarean in my area: one is retiring but I don't know when, one is a mw in training who was working with the first, and the last is about 75 miles away. None are covered by my insurance, so it would have to be out-of-pocket, which we would find a way to manage. But I would still need someone to oversee prenatal care, particularly so I can build a relationship with someone and not deal with some knife-happy yahoo who thinks I don't know anything about birth. I found a MW group, but I didn't like all of the language the one used to explain how they manage VBAC. This makes me wonder if I will ever find anyone who suits my needs. And then, does it really matter? I mean, if I plan for it, it almost feels like I'm giving up on getting what I really want. But I want nothing to do with a hospital, because I already *know* they're going to treat me like a timebomb and jump all over every little sneeze. I can't have that - I want better for this baby than I had for Babygirl. So this MW group does work with patients on positioning and walking, and the hospital they work out of has a jacuzzi (which was not available at the one BG was born at) and some other things, but she kept correcting her use of "Your VBAC" with "I mean, Trial of Labor" which I HATE hearing - sounds so non-commital - and told me I would have to have constant monitoring. But I've read the research and there's no constant monitoring that is necessarily accurate, and if I go that route, I just *know* I'll end up cut. I don't want to be cut unless it is EMINENT. Not just because someone's taking a guess when they don't like something they see. There is an OB also, who has mw's and is on my insurance. I spoke with them a while ago, and she seemed pretty cool but totally unsupportive of my want to HBAC. Not that I was surprised, not that I would even tell her... and they only "let" you go to 42 weeks. Now, granted the time frame shouldn't be a problem. BG was born exactly on her due date, though were there not an early ultrasound, I would have been induced and she would have been born prematurely. So thank God for that. But that brings more pressure on me now - I need to find a care provider soon that can tell me early enough so that it's more accurate. I wish I didn't have to know. In many ways, I don't. But if I am to have "backup" care, I'll need to , and I do think it's important. I just don't want the aggrivation of dealing with some jerkoff who doesn't think birth is natural and normal. And this is my vent for the night!

SCORE!!!

2005-03-08T13:32:00.000-05:00

Dateline: Saturday, March 5th. Woke up after dreams of being kicked in the belly from the inside. Drove 1/2hr in car, got REALLY queesy. Stopped, felt fine. Drove some more. Queesy again. Out of the car for the afternoon, felt fine. Back in car, queesy, again. Out of car for evening event, back in car to go pick up daughter, queesy. One more time for the cheap seats in back, on the ride home, queesy! Sunday, March 6th. Nowhere to go. REALLY exhausted. Slept fine. Have lengthy and unprompted conversation with DH about his fears and how we'd manage homebirthing. Am extremely sensitive (to tears) about a fire he'd fought that morning where the family lost their pets. Hm. Monday, March 7th. Take nap on couch while DD and DH watch movie. Overwhelmed by the smell of taco meat. Can't even look at it. Thankful DH volunteered to cook dinner. Eat only half a taco because I can't bear anymore than that. Really queesy again. Tuesday, March 8th. Sure, DD's diaper is really stinky. But why is it nauseating me? Hmmmm. Taco meat in fridge is grossing me out BIG time. Don't want to go into kitchen. Hmmmm... could it be? It IS! It IS!! I'm gonna have another baby!!!!! After nearly completely losing faith that I would ever get pregnant again and chalking up most of the recent body weirdness to body weirdness (and because I've already thought two other times that I might be and wasn't), that irrefutable queesiness and fatique showed up at my door and so this afternoon I just HAD to know for sure!!! And I AM! I AM! I AM!! There is a tiny little cluster of baby cells growing inside me, a part of me, another little angel to cuddle and snuggle and love... I've got tears of joy right now because I am so overwhelmed with happiness! Can't put this on my blog until our parents know, and we don't plan on telling them until Easter (when we're all probably going to be in the same place!)... Methinks I'm due late Oct, around Halloween. (Cold weather baby born at home? Not my favorite thought, but still better than trying the hospital route again...)

Still no visit...

2005-03-04T13:14:00.000-05:00

It's so aggrivating!! Where is my stupid Aunt Flo? *sigh* Perhaps there is something I need to "let go of" before my body can move on. Just don't know what that is. I feel like I've done it. I sent the letter to Dr. Evil. I'm at peace with, and even acknowledge that my c/s has made me stronger than before. So I don't know what the hangup is. *grumble* I guess I should just keep swimming along and be patient. Maybe that's it... let go of the worry about what's going on, and trust that I'm ok...

sOB!!

2005-02-21T23:08:00.000-05:00

My friend and I are in the process of launching a local ICAN chapter here, and she told her doula. Her doula then contacted me about a pregnancy fair/expo that she is putting together in May and all but begged us to participate! Should be very, very cool, and I'm really excited about the possibility of helping educate more women in our area about the choices and the power they have. In the course of our conversation, I told her about my experiences with Dr. Evil. I explained to her how he told me, toward the very end of my pregnancy, how if I didn't like how he did things I should go find someone else. She asked who he was, and I told her his name. She said knowingly, "Oooh, yeah..." and proceeded to tell me how many women find, as I did, how he's a wonderful GYN, but in terms of L&D, he thinks he's God. She said, when one of her clients questioned him about something he was about to do, he told her - a first time mother - that he had 'delivered more babies than she had' and knew what he was doing! It gave me chills! It was almost word-for-word what he told me. She said he "knows EVERYTHING", so he believes. I have to say, I am in part relieved and in part enraged. Relieved that he didn't single me out when he said that. But moreso enraged for myself and every other woman he has had and will have the nerve to say that to. I was angry in the first place that he said it to me, but knowing that he has used these "I am almighty" BS on other women... I am beside myself with fury!! Next move: file a complaint with the board of medicine. Maybe it won't accomplish much of anything, but he'll at least get a breeze of the rage I'm feeling towards him. I'll say this about the impact he's had on my life... I'm not about to let anyone kick me around like that anymore... If I could find a way to have his license revoked for practicing obstetrics, I would! GRRR HERE ME ROAR, DR. EVIL!!!!!!

No Voice

2005-02-16T14:34:00.000-05:00

Since my last post was somewhat abrupt, I figured I could elaborate. My Valentine’s day gift from My Beloved was a pregnancy test. Actually, a three-fir, as I like to call it, but nevertheless… Anyway, after we got home from running some errands on Monday night, I went directly to the potty and did my business. First, as I unwrapped it, I said to myself "This might not come back positive, and that’s OK," took a deep breath and… nothing. I checked back a half-hour later, still nothing. Nothing the next morning either. So, no baby today. Ok, I’m disappointed. But not heartbroken. Since the last test was negative, I knew it might still be, and I think that I prepared myself well enough this time. And I was resolved not to ruin Valentine’s day. MB is still OK. So then it come down to what the heck is my body doing? Perhaps it’s God’s way of saying, "Nope, not time yet" and holding off my personal fertility until it’s right? Maybe my body just takes off January and February? (It did last year…) Maybe I just thought about it so much that my body thinks it is even though it isn’t? I never felt spiritually pregnant with this attempt. Physically, I’ve had many of the same symptoms as I did with BabyGirl, but spiritually I was not moved to believe I was. I’m still not. I’m just confused now. Wondering if there’s some magical way to bring on Aunt Flo so we can start over again next month. Some exercise? Some vitamin? I just want this part done with so I know everything’s all right and I can go from here.

Verdict...

2005-02-15T12:41:00.000-05:00

Negative.

Things that make you go Hmmmm...

2005-02-09T13:52:00.000-05:00

I've got weird cramps. My boobs ache, and MB says they look bigger (and I think I agree). I've been on an unprecidented cleaning spree. I was brought to tears because of something I saw on TV, something so ridiculous that rationally I don't get it, and it's not the first time in recent days. And all of the sudden, I'm so sleepy. And have a newfound addiction to egg salad sandwiches and a resurgence of an obsession about chocolate pudding. Could it be? Did I just take the test too soon? Or, is this just the World's Longest PMS ever? It's been close to two months since AF reered her little head. It's not like I've never been late before, but since I had BG I've been quite regular... within two weeks or so anyway. Not like this. Not with the other symptoms. There was an instance back last spring/summer where I was sure I was pg again (and weirdly, so was my MIL) and took the test and it was negative, and a few days later I took it again, and it was still negative, and then less than a week later AF showed up and was brutal, so I kind of think maybe I was at one point but by the time I took the tests I wasn't anymore. And I didn't have any other symptoms. This may really be it! I don't know. I'm afraid to get my hopes up too high. I could take another test, but I can't get it into the budget for another week and a half. And maybe I'm just supposed to trust my body. Maybe that's the sign. Stay tuned for further updates...

Body Language

2005-02-02T14:24:00.000-05:00

Ok, totally getting mixed signals from my body these past few weeks. I'm officially "late" even by my own weird standards. Dear Auntie Flo should have arrived, like, two weeks ago. I took the pregnancy test almost two weeks ago, which I at least think should have left an accurate read if I was. But maybe not? I don't know. I was SO disappointed that it came up negative. Now I'm having weird, painful crampiness. I keep expecting AF to show up any second, and she doesn't. This has been going on for over a week. I remember with BabyGirl that I had some weird sensations early on, but I don't remember that they were specifically "crampy". I do remember feeling miserable in my lower half... But, at the same time, I've sort of put to rest the thought that I'm pregnant this month. So this crampiness has got me all paranoid. Pregnant? Ectopic pregnancy (because the most pain is in my right side)? Just feminine peculiarities? Am I broken? What is going on? I honestly am somewhat wishing AF would just show up so I would know for sure that I'm not, rather than waiting around. And I'm tempted to buy another test, but they're so expensive. I'm really trying to listen to my body. To hear what she's telling me I need to know. And I don't know if my head is just really cluttered right now, or if I'm just not listening closely enough or if there's nothing important to hear, but it's driving me crazy. I know so much of it has to do with how fast and easy it seemed to get pregnant with BabyGirl. It was really, like, the first try. So I know that accounts for why I'm so anxious. I keep trying to remind myself "sometimes it takes time... be patient... it will happen when it's supposed to happen." and that if I'm not, it's because it's just not the right time. I believe that there is a force behind conception that is so far beyond anything humans can understand. I'm trying to remind myself of advice someone said to someone else from the www.ICAN-online.org board that said, "if you might be pregnant, treat yourself like you are pregnant and let your body tell you what you need to know." which is such sound advice. I'm just not used to being that way. I've built up all these added concerns that I probably don't need to have, like, that I was by LMP as the standard, 45 weeks pregnant when I had BG, and I don't want to have to fight with whomever my new OB is to prevent another c/s. That's a MAJOR issue, since most cut at 40-41 weeks. I want the least amount of friction for my VBAC as possible. I'm already considering lying to whatever OB about my plans for a homebirth because I know they'll never be "ok" with it. I shouldn't have to lie... it's my body... but I'll do what I need to in order to protect myself, my baby and my family. It's not something I want to hide, but I will hide it from anyone who poses a threat. So maybe my anxiety is causing all the feelings and pains and weirdness in my body. I don't really "feel" pregnant right now... not in that physical symptoms way. I feel like by now I should be getting that special queesy feeling.. and though I've not been eating much and getting wicked heartburn when I do, it's just not like that. But then, every pregnancy is different, right? Oh, to have a sign... a really clear one. What to do, what to do?

Just one line today

2005-01-23T23:08:00.000-05:00

Woke up this morning, and the first thing on my mind was "take the test". So I did. Not pregnant. I'm sadder about it than I thought I would be. I really convinced myself I was, I think... I don't know that I've ever had the vibe like I did with BG, but I really believed I was listening to my body and my little voice and in tune with things, and I'm later than I think I should be and... well, not pregnant. I thought I had listened long enough to the physical signs. And the intuition, that voice that nags "find a new OB asap, and get the spare room cleaned NOW!" Not even up for questioning. And a little unprepared for the disappointment. I guess next month is another month. And rationally I can say that it's not like we've been trying for long and if it didn't happen this time, it just means it's not the right time... but part of me wants to blame Dr. Evil for cutting me, wounding my delicate womanparts, wounding my confidence, wounding my spirit. I feel like a failure. And a little stupid for wasting a test when money is such an issue for us right now. MB is ok about it, I don't think he really understands why I'm so cranky about it.

All we need is just a little patience...

2005-01-12T14:38:00.000-05:00

I'm DYING to take my test. It is beckoning me, saying "pee on me, pee on me!" It's all I can do to hold back. I am thinking that my plan is to take it like a week from Saturday, if Aunt Flo hasn't shown up yet. I'll admit, I do not have that "feeling" I had when I was pregnant with BabyGirl. With her, I just KNEW I was pregnant, and no other answer would do. That night was so wild... I'd been having thoughts for a couple of weeks... things like "I should stock up on baby food and diapers!" and having difficulties answering questions on innocuous forms like "Are you pregnant" because I couldn't decide what the answer was. I did obsess over it a little bit, but I didn't realize I was obsessing. And the night I decided I absolutely HAD to take a test, there was no reason but a nagging little voice telling me to do it. I'm irregular, and never less than like 45 days, and it was just a month past the last time dear Auntie had shown up. And when the test came out negative, I was utterly distraught. I'd been so sure. And I didn't even know why I was so distraught. It's not like I hadn't taken tests before, or that we'd been TTC for very long at all. In fact, this was the first month of TTC that it was even possible. But somehow I just knew. So I don't have that feeling right now. I do have that hope. So do I waste the $7.99 it cost to purchase my last test next week on hope instead of a vibe? Or do I just use it to confirm instincts? Hard to know exactly what the right answer is. My SIL is one snoopy weasel, btw. I have no hard evidence, but I know that when she was here, she looked under our bathroom sink and saw the pregnancy test. And then she started asking questions. (With SIL, her lack of subtlty IS the hard evidence). And then the next time we were over at the IL's house (a few days ago) my MIL starts asking pressing questions, claiming she's not trying to pry. I think we threw her off, but who knows? Not that it matters. We're not saying a word.

Rage against the machine

2005-01-10T17:30:00.000-05:00

Ok, I have a problem with rage. Mostly, I'm a laid back individual. I'm pretty content, pretty mellow, pretty "go with the flow". But, sometimes, I snap. Completely loose my shit. It doesn't happen frequently, but sometimes I get so upset, and feel like I've done everything I can do to keep resolve stuff, and when nothing works, I lose it. I've never hurt another person, but I do take things out on myself when I get to a certain point. I just get to a place where I don't know what to do with myself or my feelings. That being said, I need to talk about what happened when I went into labor with BabyGirl. Bottom line, I freaked out. I got frustrated and I freaked out. It hurt so much, and I didn't know what to do with myself. I felt alone and unprotected and very caught off guard. I didn't do anything overtly destructive, but I did not manage things for myself very well. I attribute some of the reasons for my cesarean (wow, I can actually say that word without gasping) to the fact that I did not manage myself well, nor did I set up a good support system for myself. I can blame Dr. Evil all I want, but the bottom line is that I had as much to do with it as he did, so it has to be acknowledged. So, My Beloved and I were discussing what might happen "next time". He said, "You get into such a tizzy and there's no way to calm you down." We both realize that this was the case with BG. It really wasn't until I got the epidural that I was "ok"... calm, relaxed, human. But then, that had a bad effect on me - brought my BP down low and they put me on oxygen. Then, they gave me pitocin because the epi probably "slowed things down" (at least in Dr. Evil's eyes) which made BG's heart rate drop, which is supposedly why they cut me. This cannot happen again. To stray a bit from the topic at hand (I'll bring it all back in a moment or two) I made some calls to OB offices, to get my ducks in a row. I do think it's important to at least have an OB observe my pregnancy since I will be VBACing. One OB office was fairly cool. I actually spoke with the Doc. She did not agree with my choice/right to HBAC, but said she didn't believe in "time limits" or labor augmentation for VBAC patients, and told me some other points in her philosophy that were at least partially aligned with my own (is it even possible to find one that's completely aligned with my own?) She mentioned that she sometimes sends people to a woman who teaches hypnobirthing. This caught my attention. I could really get into something like that, I think. Regardless, it would be great to have some actual coping strategy for my next child's birth, which is something I was completely lacking in with BG. And MB would be able to help me too. The negative thing about it was that the OB seemed a little skeptical about this particular person's practices. She said "We've had to speak with her before", so that made me uneasy. But hypnobirthing might be the right answer. I need to come up with something. Especially since I don't want to have any drugs this next time. And, maybe it will help me deal with things in other parts of my life. Help me cope better when things spin out of control. Who knows. I just don't think it would hurt to try. Back to the OB calls, I have to say, I got physically panicked when talking to these people. I had a hard time catching my breath to speak. Could have been the bronchitis, but I was breathing fairly well before they each answered the phone. Guess I'm a little nervous about the whole thing. But the good news is, I was confident about what I was saying, how I was feeling. Maybe I'll make some more calls today...

Has the seed been planted?

2005-01-03T14:14:00.000-05:00

My apologies if this is TMI, but it is entirely possible that right now, perhaps as of this past week, I am hosting a little group of cells in my body that will evolve in a miraculous period of time into a tiny human being! I feel like my body was giving the "signals", and so efforts were made, and now it’s just a matter of time. Could be a nice delayed New Year’s present. Maybe a birthday present for me :-)

I asked My Beloved if he thought there was a baby in my belly yet… he said he didn’t know… but I could tell he really liked the thought! I spoke with a doula I know on New Year’s Eve at a party I went to, to find out if she knows any HB MW’s in the area… she says she knows a few, and will make some calls and let me know. Hope she comes through! I’d really like some options, some people to pick from. I also did something very empowering. I sent a letter to my evil sOB, explaining to him how his actions hurt me, and how I will not be able to see him anymore. I have some fears about the possible ramifications of sending it, but ultimately it felt good to tell him off. I expect he’ll be receiving it in the mail today. I wonder if he’ll read it? Here it is:

Dear Dr. C,
It has taken me nearly twenty months to get up the strength to write this letter. In that time, I’ve debated with myself over whether or not what I need to tell you will make a difference; how to phrase what I need to say; whether or not to even write this letter at all. I think though that it is important for one to know about some of the less obvious long-term consequences and impacts of one’s decisions. If nothing else, perhaps it will help me purge some of my own demons.
I am angry, Dr. C, beyond any level of anger I’ve ever felt.
On Thursday, May 1st 2003, at approximately 10:30am, I entered MFS hospital in spontaneous labor, exactly on my due date and after an extremely healthy pregnancy. After laboring at the hospital for, what I believe to be, a minimal amount of time, the decision was made, by you, to cut me open and take my baby out of my uterus. By the time my perfectly healthy child was pulled out of my body, it was less than twelve hours from the first time I noticed a contraction.
It may seem, on the surface, that it is unreasonable for me to be angry about the healthy and "routine" surgical delivery of my child. That is why I hope you’ll read on.
Three weeks before my daughter was born, I presented you with a birth plan during a regular visit. Perhaps I should have approached you differently to discuss my ideals, or perhaps you were in a bad mood that day, but regardless, your reaction was less than supportive and bordered on unprofessional. In fact, you refused to look at it. When I attempted to discuss the birth plan with you, you became defensive about your skills, saying "You can swing from the ceiling for all I care, but if I want to do something to you I will do it. I have delivered hundreds of babies and you have not delivered any." When I attempted to express my fears to you about the possibility of a cesarean section (which was, to my knowledge, not anticipated at that time) you wrote me off and told me you "have ways of dealing with that."
I never wanted to tell you how to do your job. I did, however, feel entitled to some sort of conversation where we could share our expectations and come up with a mutually agreeable "game plan". I went into this pregnancy believing that you and I would be a team – you, being the expert in physiology, and me, the expert in my own personal body. Instead, you dismissed my attempt at a dialogue regarding what was likely the single most important event of my life, and took my feelings for granted. It took me weeks to recover from this conversation. In fact, in the car ride right before my next visit, I was sobbing uncontrollably, completely terrified of seeing you. My typically low blood pressure was at a record high and you sent me to the hospital. I couldn’t tell you the reason because I was so upset and didn’t want to face you. I couldn’t tell you I was angry or frightened out of my skull. I felt like I was too far along in my pregnancy to switch practitioners, and wouldn’t have known where to go anyway. I was very confused, and extremely vulnerable. Nevertheless, I clung to the belief that ultimately you were looking out for my best interests.
I now believe you were looking out for your own interests, mine being distantly secondary. Some clues which have lead me to conclude this include:
off-handed conversations during regular (non-prenatal) exams where you emphatically expressed your disdain for trial/injury attorneys, which now suggests to me that your mindset in delivering my child was focused prominently on your own personal fears of litigation (it should be noted that I never gave you any indication that I might sue you, rather, the conversations were about my work);
your attempt to speed up my labor by ordering my water bag membranes ruptured as well as pitocin augmentation after what is by industry standard a very short amount of time;
and, a conversation you had with my husband during my labor explaining that you had another patient nearly ready to deliver besides me that leads me to believe you may have been in a hurry.
To me, it feels as though I was just a body that needed to be "treated for pregnancy" to you, and perhaps a human being after I was cut. While I try to be more optimistic than this, it’s also hard for me to shake the worst thought that perhaps previously hidden misogynistic true colors finally bled through you during the birth plan conversation, and that you cut me open to prove to me that you really could do whatever you wanted to my body, or to punish me for having my own ideas about my daughter’s birth.
I’d like to believe you did the best you could have for me and my daughter, but it’s hard to think you didn’t at the very least act mainly in an effort to avoid litigation before considering your patient’s (my) needs. I believe a doctor should put their patient first, and that the personal risks one takes on while practicing medicine, such as malpractice, should be regarded as occupational hazards that come with the job. Practicing medicine that is not primarily in the best interest of your patient is not ethical.
I also can’t get past the feeling that I was victimized. Regardless of what your goals and intentions were, the result has left me feeling robbed, broken and exploited. The greatest gift I could have given my first child was the gift of birth, but I didn’t give it. You did. And I can’t even say it was worth it because I was never really allowed a chance.
As I understand, my baby girl had no signs of distress upon her first breathes of air or anytime afterward. This means: I was pumped with chemicals and stripped of this natural and beautiful gift for nothing. My body was mutilated and scarred for nothing. I have numbness and pain in my abdomen for nothing. My hands were strapped down onto a table and I did not get so much as a peek of my baby until she’d been in the world for I don’t even know how many minutes, and then she was whisked away and kept from me for four precious, irrecoverable hours for nothing. I struggled with nursing her for three weeks of devastating feelings of failing my baby for nothing. I have surgery nightmares for nothing, sometimes while I’m wide-awake. I have bouts of insomnia over this for nothing. Every time my daughter has awoken screaming in the middle of the night I wonder if she’s having horrible flashbacks of her violent birth. There has not been a single day yet where I haven’t thought about it. I can’t even look at her baby book or watch the videotapes of her first days or look at the pictures without becoming sad. I wanted desperately to be able to celebrate the birth of my child, but I fear that day will always be bittersweet. I want to be able to tell my daughter the story of her birth with tears of joy, not with the tears of the anguish and regret I feel now.
Dr. C, I am filled with remorse over the things I should have done better, or at least differently. I, too, took the birth of my daughter for granted. I felt that whatever might happen would be meant to be and I should take it all in stride, but that’s just not how it’s been. I hope you’ll understand that I do not foresee any time in the future where I will be able to face you. I simply cannot imagine when I will be in a headspace where I can accept that everything that was done to my child and me and taken from me was entirely for the benefit of my child and myself. I will pay you the $179 that I owe you as soon as I’m strong enough inside to write the check, but I can’t say for sure when that will be. Right now, it makes me sick to think about paying for everything that happened to us and all the subsequent suffering my soul has since carried. I only hope that, when you read this letter, you will look at each and every patient as a person who will react both physically and emotionally to what you do on their behalf; and that you will not take birth (or other women’s health matters) for granted.
Thank you for your time.

Money talks, but it don't sing and dance and it can't walk

2004-12-29T13:46:00.000-05:00

Money sucks. We're so broke right now. Post-Christmas boogers. It's not like we went all that crazy either. My Beloved and I spent less than $100 on BabyGirl, $100 on each other (but not all in one shot on his part, so his was more dispursed), and... maybe $150 total on other people. So it's time to pay the mortgage and unless we figure out something magical, we're going to come up short. And we need diapers. And money for his chiro co-pays. And gas in the car. It's just not looking good right now. Last night was a low moment for us. MB has had a painful back injury and is frustrated and hurting. It's so bad, that we discussed the possibility of him going on disability to make it better. I've been sick with a cold/the flu/bronchitis all month and we're both just worn out. We sat down to figure out the money situation and it wasn't pretty. He cried. We cried together. We're both really frustrated. We can't keep doing this to ourselves and our family. I told My Beloved that, unless we can figure out a way to get it all wrangled up and under control, then maybe we should put off baby-making until we do. Later, he told me something amazing. He said he was really kind of upset that I said that. I was kind of surprised. I’m so used to being the one who wants more, who wants to move forward, who’s ready first. And I really wanted him to be the one who was ready for a baby first. And he is. It’s a little mind-boggling. For me, it’s not so much that I’m not ready… I think emotionally, spiritually and physically I really am prepared, even anxious. I’m just so worried about money and I don’t want to spend 40 weeks of pregnancy in fear of how we’re going to take care of another baby when we still have the bills from BabyGirl’s birth to pay. So that’s a good thing that came out of this, I found out where MB truely stands. And it’s not as a result of my pushing him or nagging him or whatever, it’s what he came on to in his own terms. And that makes me more confident that it's the right time (once we get financially organized.) It's so important that he really wants it. And also on a positive note, we have finally settled on a new girl name! Should we have another girl, her name will be Lindsey Margaret. Or Lindsay. I like the "A", he likes the "E", so we’re technically 98% settled, ha-ha. Our boy name will be Zachary Stephen. Both first names are just ones we like, both middle names are family names. So that’s that. Wish us luck…

A Vicarious Trial Run

2004-12-23T11:40:00.000-05:00

My dear friend is pregnant. She'll be due in July. She also had a c/section for her first child's birth. In her case, it ultimately was that she'd had enough. From what I understand, her baby was not in distress, but she was tired and he wasn't dropping down and engaging. She had the ultimate say in what happened, so it was a different, better experience for her than mine was for me. From what I now know, her baby was probably malpositioned. But the stupid OB's only know head-down vs. head-not-down. Any number of factors could have made it difficult for her baby to come down. But of course, her "wonderful" OB said it was probably Cephelopelvic Disproportion (CPD). That's the easy answer: to tell the woman she's broken. The truth is that true CPD is very rare, though I can't quote the stats right now. So that makes me mad for her. But at the end of the day, she did what she needed to do with the information she was given. She'd simply had enough and had no tangible hope that it would have ended otherwise. Anyway, I tell you this in order to tell you that she also wishes to have a VBAC, and has asked me to assist her. I'm completely honored by this - the invitation to be a participant in an intimate and sacred miracle. She tells me, "I want something between what you and what my OB want for me". I'm not sure I exactly know what she means. I take that back... I know what she means, but I don't thinks she knows what I mean for her, dig? I think she thinks I'm all crunchy granola about it, like I want her to have a HB and be all ethereal and anti-medical-establishment about it. I don't want to be an adversary to her OB either. What I really want for her is the best birth she can give... something where she can look back and feel satisfied, fully grateful, filled with joy for, with no regrets and no second-guessing. I want her to be aware and informed of all the risks as well as the benefits of what happens in the hospital. I want her to know her options and her alternatives. I only want for her what she needs for herself and for her wee one. Selfishly, I want it to go well for my own sake too. First and foremost are her and her baby's needs, but there's a tiny drop of... inspiration I'm hoping to draw for myself. Affirmation perhaps. Something that will tell me that if she can do it, so can I. That maybe what I need is to witness her success and that will provide me with what I need to get through it. Time will tell.

The Game Plan

2004-12-09T10:19:00.000-05:00

Being that my next birth will be a VBAC, I've needed to make some choices and decisions regarding the personal safety of my child and myself. It has taken much thought and research, but My Beloved and I feel that the best choice is to have a home birth (HBAC). Two years ago, I'd have thought I was crazy for saying so. I thought you'd have to live in the back woods or at least be Amish to make a choice like that. Now I feel much differently about it. When I was in the hospital, attempting to birth BabyGirl, things happened, like I was put in this overflow "closet" - a room they never showed us on the tour - which was in very close proximity to other women and even shared a bathroom with another laboring woman. Each time I yelled through the pain of a contraction, I had tremendous fear of disrupting other women who were trying to labor in peace. I had no support. Well, not exactly... I had one of my best friends with me, and MB, but neither of them had ever been through it before. I really needed someone who could talk me down. As each contraction grew worse, I grew more distraught. In a nutshell, I lost control with no hope of getting it back. Then the interventions. I opted for the epidural. It was my decision because I didn't think I could take anymore. I'll still tell you today that the relief it provided was the best part of my labor. But now I wish I'd gone a different route - again, tying into the support issue, and being more learned about psychological pain control measures rather than chemicals. The pitocin. Now that I fully understand the risks, and how they impact my body and my baby, and now that I have a spine, no one will ever come near me with this chemical again. At the time, I just laid there and accepted it because that's what seemed to happen to everyone else I knew and they all turned out fine. But it had a negative effect on my baby, and if I allow it in my body again could increase the likelihood of Uterine Rupture. Breaking my water. I understand where this is sometimes helpful, but I now believe BG was malpositioned (even slightly) and that is why she would not engage into my pelvis. When they broke my water, they made it very difficult for her to move into proper position if she wasn't there already. Vaginal Exams. I can't tell you how many they gave me, but I can tell you that each and every one of them sent me into a skull-peeling, eye popping contraction that made me want to kick the ones performing it in the teeth. Some research I have done since then tells me that this may have contributed to why I didn't dilate (at least, fast enough for the doctors), because my body needed to protect itself. I labored in fear, and I was prevented from laboring in my body's own time. If I set foot, as a VBAC Lady, into a hospital again, statistics show me it's only going to be worse. I will most likely be treated like a ticking time bomb, and be given even less of an opportunity to birth my child than I was given before. The current state of VBAC in our country is not a good one, with ACOG telling hospitals that it should not perform VBACs if there is no surgical staff available 24 hrs a day because of Uterine Rupture. What about when vaginal births go wrong? What about the fact that the risks of UR in a VBAC are lower than the risks of a Prolapsed Cord in a standard vaginal birth? It's a crock. I have to avoid the whole thing. I'm not subjecting myself to the risks of major abdominal surgery without a DAMN good reason, and planning to have my child in a hospital immediately would open the door to that. So here's the game plan:

Get pregnant
Line up a HB MW who's comfortable with HBVBAC (I think I have one, though she's illegal... but if she's willing, then it's fine with me!) and discuss in detail my birth plans
Line up a new OB who will be supportive of my VBAC and also of my decision to HB. Will most likely be a woman this time
Come up with a plan in the event I have to have a cesarean (I'll address this in a future post, when I'm ready to put it into writing)
Gestate in Peace
Have the best, most optimal birth my body and my baby will allow!

Beginning the Journey

2004-12-08T19:18:00.000-05:00

I was an innocent woman who was pregnant. I didn't expect to be cut open and gutted like a fish to get my daughter out of my body. I trusted my doctor, that he would do everything in my best interests and it never once occurred to me that he might act in his own best interests first. Silly, naive me. As I laid on the table with my organs visible to the world, I knew I didn't like it. I didn't know how deeply my daughter's birth would effect me though. It never occurred to me that a cesarean section might carry more emotional scars with it than physical ones. I didn't know it could hurt so much. It is now just over 19 months since that OB wielded his knife and took my child out of my body. My Beloved and I have decided that this is the time to think about adding one more branch to our family tree. My LMP just ended this week, so it's possible that sometime within the next few weeks, I could be carrying a brand new little life again. Such an exciting possibility! I loved being pregnant with BabyGirl. It was a time filled with joy, anticipation, delight... it was amazing and beautiful. Unfortunately, I fear this next time of being pregnant, should we be so blessed, will be riddled with the fears, the stigmas, the labels of being "a VBAC" woman. [VBAC = vaginal birth after cesarean] I resent needing the label. As though the scar on my belly is not enough.