jonathan's birth story, part 2

Welcome back for round two of long labor story. You can read part 1 to catch up if you want...

There were times throughout labor that I would get a fleeting thought of What if this doesn't work? What if he won't come out? What if I have to transfer to the hospital? And then things would smooth out and I would forget those thoughts. But then seeing the midwife starting to get concerned really made me wonder what was going to happen. Finally, she actually suggested that we transfer. She was pretty sure his head wasn't going to turn, and since my contractions were slowing down, she wondered if maybe some Pitocin would ramp things back up and hopefully force him into the right position. 

I remember feeling so defeated. So helpless. A transfer? That's not what we had planned for. Going to the hospital? How much is that going to cost? How long will we have to stay there? Will they care for us how the birthing center cared for us? We didn't even have anything packed - at the birthing center you go home a few hours after the baby is born. Really, we have to go the hospital? 

At this point, it was about 4 or 5 in the afternoon, around 20 hours of active labor. All that work. For nothing? I felt so confused. So sad. So angry. 

When we got to the hospital, the plan was to administer Pitocin, start an epidural, and give the meds a few hours to see if anything changed. Then we would try pushing again to see if Jonathan had turned at all. When the new doctor came in, he basically recommended a c-section right away. We were like, Oh no you don't understand. We are not here for a c-section. We are just here for some help in getting over this bump, and then we will have a regular birth. No c-section for us, thank you. We are birthing center people. We don't do surgeries. 

So a few hours passed, and then I tried pushing again for another 30 minutes or so. Nothing. Still stuck. The doctor came back in and again recommended a c-section. It looked like that was going to be our only option. We resigned ourselves to this fact, and the preparations for surgery got under way.

Jonathan was born at 8:17pm on Monday, May 30 - Memorial Day - via c-section. I was a bit reassured of our need for the surgery when the doctor said something along the lines of Here he is! - wait - move his head around that way - no, turn it the other way - ok now pull him out - Now here he is! Turns out he was indeed posterior, and also somehow crooked, so that his forehead was jutting up against my pelvic bone and couldn't get past. 

First family photo. All looking our best.

He cried vigorously right away and was perfectly healthy. Jon announced to the whole operating room It's a boy! I was so proud of my boy for hanging in there during that long and hard labor. All throughout, whenever they checked his heartbeat, he was perfect, just hanging out wondering when we would realize he was stuck. Just like his disposition a year later, he started out life acting pretty chill. Meeting Jonathan face to face for the first time was exhilarating. Even after all that we had just gone through, love immediately welled up in me from places I didn't know I had. After he was born, I was shaking and sobbing and shouting I love him! I love him so much which you can hear in the background of the video of Jonathan's first moments. 

Once we got home, Jon and I admittedly had a hard time coming to terms with our birth story. We knew that birth never goes "according to plan," but we definitely were not prepared for such a drastic detour in ours. If we were honest, we kind of realized that we had been natural birthing snobs, looking down on procedures like c-sections when they are utilized for the wrong reasons. Even though ours was for the "right" reasons, it was still hard to accept that it was the right thing to do. I was embarrassed. We racked our brains in the weeks after, trying to figure out "what went wrong." We were mad at God - where the heck were You? Why didn't You warn us about this? Couldn't you have changed things up a bit? 

As I relayed our story to a friend, she asked me something along the lines of Why does it matter how it happened as long as the baby is healthy? Isn't the outcome the same either way, and isn't that the important thing? The simple answer is, of course, Yes, what matters is having a healthy baby (and healthy mom). The more complicated answer, though, is that a birth changes you. It is a rite of passage in the most complete sense of the phrase. After a birth, a mom is never the same. Not just because now she has a baby to care for, but because whatever the process, whatever the experience, this was the time that you faced your most vulnerable, raw, foundational place. Birthing is what we were made to do. Our bodies were built for it. Going through a labor means turning inwards and standing eye to eye with your most essential self, and emerging on the other side means your eyes have been opened to parts of you that you never knew were there. This happens, I think, whether you have a labor that is long or short, natural or medicated, unexpected or routine. Whether you pop into the hospital to be induced and then sit for eight hours connected to wires and don't feel a thing, or you labor for three days working hard through every contraction your body produces, every woman has a story. Her birth story. And it is a story that changes each and every one of us. For better or for worse - which hard for me to say, but I really think that it's true. Some women are scarred by their birth stories, while others are transformed, themselves being "birthed" into newness along with their baby. 

Processing my birth story has been as essential as going through the actual process itself. Jon and I found that we each had to ask different questions and needed different answers. I needed to know that I hadn't let him down. That I hadn't let anyone down. That I was a good mom and had what my baby needed. That my body is made for this and that I didn't do anything wrong. That requiring medical intervention during birth did not mean I was a failure (or worse; post-birthing hormones can tell you all kinds of elaborate lies). 

At our six-week follow-up, back at the birthing center, Jon and I both got some much needed closure and assurance. Sarah, our midwife, confided that she knew we would have to have a c-section when she first brought up the idea of transferring. She also knew, though, that Jon and I were not yet at the point of accepting that, so she framed the transfer in light of getting some rest, using Pitocin, and trying to push again. She said in all her years of midwife-ing, all the labors that looked like mine had resulted in a c-section. She said that she knew I wasn't too tired, that I actually had a lot of steam left in me, and that my being able to do it or not wasn't a factor in her decision. I needed to hear that. I didn't feel too tired at the time of the transfer. I did feel like I could keep going. But Sarah knew best, and knew that it wasn't going to happen the way we were trying to make it happen. It was good for Jon to hear from her that we needed a c-section; even six weeks later he was still trying to figure out what could have been done differently, and he needed someone to lay his mind to rest. I did, too. 

I was also asked, by another friend, if I would have done anything differently throughout the whole pregnancy leading up to the labor. Like, would I still use the birthing center, would I have gotten any other interventions like more ultrasounds, etc. The answer was easy for me: No, I wouldn't have changed a thing. I loved being pregnant, and I think that our prenatal care experience at the birthing center had a lot to do with that. I am comfortable now with the very real probability that nothing we could have done would have changed our outcome of a c-section, and so, I wouldn't have changed a thing. 

So what's next for the future Buck babies? Since I had a c-section, my next labor will be considered higher risk because of the chance for uterine rupture, so I can't have my babies at the birthing center. We found a group of midwives, though, that treats pregnancy and birth in a very natural way, but they deliver babies at a hospital. This group has a very high VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) rate, and are huge proponents of women having VBACs. We aren't thrilled about the hospital part, but we realize that being higher risk means I need to have quick access to interventions if anything goes wrong. We still hope to have a natural birth. I freakin hated that epidural - it made me come out of my laborland zone and get all emotional and I hated having to sit still in one position while my body continued the work of labor unbeknownst to me - so I hope that I don't need one of those again. This hospital offers birthing tubs and water births and wireless monitors - yipeee! - so we are thankful that there is a good alternative to our beloved birthing center. 

Alright so that's my story and I'm sticking to it. Hope it was an enjoyable read for you, if you managed to make it all this way. Don't we women just LOVE a good birthing story? I know I do. 

For your reading pleasure, you may want to look back at this post I wrote about labor. Or rather, my thoughts about labor. I hadn't actually experienced it yet, but I think I had some good things to say. Oh how much I've learned since then, though! 

jonathan's birth story, part 1

Nothing like the approaching first birthday of your son to make you feel like you have lots to write about and zero time to do it. I can't believe this is the first time I am sitting down to blog in a week!

I'd been wanting to write out our birth story and I have sure been thinking about it a lot lately. So here ya go. I'll do this in two parts because it ended up being quite lengthy and who doesn't love a little dose of suspense?

I had a pretty strong feeling Jonathan would be arriving before his due date. I had a pretty strong feeling he would be here on Memorial Day, actually. I was right on both counts. And while we are talking about me being right, let me mention that I also knew he was a boy (we didn't find out the gender during pregnancy). I assumed he wouldn't be cute - I don't know why - but thankfully I was wrong there.

At my 37 week appointment, I had dilated one centimeter, much to my skeptical midwife's surprise. Then another centimeter by 38 weeks, and at 39 weeks, I was up to three. I was contracting like crazy (I guess I'm just a major contractor - I had started having Braxton-Hicks since about 20 weeks) and thought I was in labor a couple times up to this point, so I was always relieved to know at my checkups that something was actually going on. At the 39 week appointment, the midwife swept the membranes to move things along, and we figured we would be back to see her within a day or two once labor started.

A little background: Jon and I chose to use a free-standing birthing center for our care. I don't like hospitals and I don't really like medicines used for pregnancy and labor. We both feel that pregnancy and labor and birth are natural and normal things and like the idea of a less medicine-oriented approach to care. We are hippies if hippie means going to a birthing center. Yes, we also use cloth diapers. And, yes, I breastfeed. But also, yes, I am a huge advocate for vaccines, and yes, I am a practitioner of western medicine. You can decide if we are bona-fide hippies based on all of this information.

We loved the birthing center and the midwives. I am so happy that we went that route. It was a perfect fit for us.

Ok. So early labor started 48 hours - almost on the dot - after the midwife swept my membranes. That was Sunday, when I was 39 weeks and 2 days. By about 9pm, active labor was in full swing. I labored at home for a long time, getting in and out of the tub, leaning on the backs of chairs, riding the contractions and feeling pretty good. I actually loved it. And that is not just post-baby amnesia. I actually remember thinking during labor that I really love this. Not that it didn't hurt, not that it wasn't hard work, but for some reason I was just so happy and excited.

Jon had been talking back and forth with the midwife, updating her on our progress. Around 1 or 2am, she wanted us to come on into the birthing center because my contractions were really close. I didn't want to go. I was feeling so good at home - (someday I want to have a home birth!) - but since she knew I dilated fast up to this point, she was pretty insistent that we head over there.

When we arrived, we found out I was 7cm. Yay! I was entering transition and still happy as a horse. I got into the birthing tub right away. Oh how I loved that tub. Ladies who are reading this: if your birth place has a tub, get.in.it. The contractions were intense at this point for sure, and I was having a LOT of back labor this whole time. Jon and my mom told me later that they had to contort themselves into all kinds of awkward positions in order to reach my back to put pressure on it while I was in the tub. During the contractions I HAD to have someone push on my back.

I had no concept of time throughout labor, until they told me that I needed my second dose of antibiotics (I was group B strep positive). When I had arrived and they gave me my first dose, they joked that I probably wouldn't need a second because things were progressing so rapidly. When they made me get out of the tub to administer my second dose, I clued into the fact that things were taking longer than everyone had anticipated.

At some point they checked me again and I was 9.5cm. There was one small lip of cervix left. The midwife had me out of the tub and on the birthing stool so she could try to move that lip of cervix back as I pushed during contractions. During this time, the midwife also broke my water (it hadn't broken yet--which I think was a major factor in how good I felt up to this point!). In the process of all her manipulating and my pushing, my cervix got really swollen, and Jonathan's head actually moved further back up rather than down, and so I was no longer almost 10cm.

I was pissed. When the midwife realized what was happening and told me to get off the stool so I could rest for a little while, I was like What the hell??!? Rest?!!? I just went through the most awful pain of my life and you want me to REST??!!!? Was that all for nothing?!!??? (The process of her manipulating my cervix while I pushed was seriously the most intense pain I have ever had; I remember thinking through that time that I'm not sure if I can do this.)

So I rested. Whatever that actually means when you are in labor. The contractions actually did slow down a little. Later on they checked me and my swelling had subsided, but now I wasn't 9cm anymore, so I had to dilate again. They were giving me some herbal thing to make my contractions stronger, and oh boy it worked. Yikes. Those contractions were crazy.

Once I got to 10cm again, the midwife was having me push during contractions while she was trying to move Jonathan's head so that he could fit better. It was at this point that she started to suspect that he might be posterior (face up). At all my check-ups he was in perfect anterior position, but with my back labor and halted progress, she figured maybe he had turned at some point. Great. So now his head was stuck and wasn't able to descend into the birth canal. I was pushing with all my might, and she was doing everything she could to turn him. If I thought earlier that I had experienced the worst pain of my life, that was nothing compared to now. But it was crazy that I didn't care. I wanted to push through the pain. I wanted this baby out. I was totally in the zone, totally in labor land, and everything in me was working for a single purpose.

---I'll stop there for now, but stay tuned for part 2 tomorrow! :)---