A New Addition!

It has been a long, long, looooong time since I've posted here. Many changes. But the biggest one of all: a sweet new addition! Please welcome our newest daughter (and yes, that's right, we have three daughters).

New in the world:



And now, five months later:

A Story I'm Finally Ready to Tell

It's been over five months, but I think I'm finally ready to share it here .

A little background: I had a terrible hospital birth with my oldest. 35 hours of labor, 2.5 hours pushing. It was so terrible that I knew before even leaving the hospital that my next baby would be born at home. It wasn't just the birth experience that drove me away but the hospital experience. And I did have my second baby at home. 15 hours of labor, 1.5 hours of pushing. It was hard, but I loved every bit of my homebirth experience.

So, when I found out I was unexpectedly expecting again, there was no doubt in my mind that I was having another homebirth. The problem was that my DH was deploying, and I had no clue where I was going to live while he was gone. So I ended up getting prenatal care for the first half of my pregnancy through a CNM with Tricare. And I figured I'd find my CPM once I knew where I would live.

At 20 weeks, I finally decided where I was going to move. And then I started calling midwives. I was due December 18th, which is a really bad time anyway, with the holidays and all. But I was halfway through my pregnancy, and trying to find a midwife with openings during the holiday season was nearly impossible. In fact, I had resigned myself to a hospital birth. But finally, the very last CPM I called agreed to take me on.

I had reservations about this midwife before I even met her. I had researched her online, and after reading through her website, she had a few things that bothered me. Things like refusing to take clients who didn't intend to breastfeed. I'm all about BF'ing...I nursed both of my older girls for 28 and 27 months, respectively. But the idea of a midwife, who is supposed to be about GIVING women the reins over their birthing and parenting decisions...I just can't really fathom the idea of a midwife who would turn away a woman who wants a homebirth all because of one particular choice. So I do have to say that I may have entered our client/caretaker relationship on a slightly sour note.

Then there were other signs that she was not the midwife for me. She spoke harshly to her apprentice. Our appointments were sometimes only 20 minutes long, not the 45-60 minutes I was accustomed to with my previous midwife. But the main thing had to do with my baby's position. She told me that my baby was breech. And I'm sure she was. But at 28 or so weeks, she was a very flippy baby. I could feel her flipping up, down, all around. And when I told the midwife that, she looked right at me and said, "No. This baby does not move around a lot."

After that appointment, I immediately scheduled a tour of the local hospital. Because I was very hesitant to see a midwife who would outright tell me I was wrong. See, to me, one of the biggest advantages of having a midwife is that she trust a mother's instincts. She trusts a mother's abilities to know and birth her baby. And here was my midwife telling me I was wrong about something that, quite frankly, she really had no clue about. It was my second appointment with her, and she didn't live with my baby in her belly. So how could she know whether my baby flipped a lot or not? But I knew for sure that she did.

So, I started looking for an OB or CNM, and I was going to birth in the hospital instead. But then I rewatched "The Business of Being Born", and it renewed my longing for a homebirth. And I realized that even though I had reservations about my midwife, I still had a better chance of having the birth experience that I wanted with her over an OB. So, after much prayer and discussion with my husband (who was in Afghanistan for all of this, so I had to make most of these decisions on my own), I decided to move ahead with the midwife.

I do want to say that she was very knowledgable and capable. I had no doubts about that. My concern was mainly about a personality clash. But I also had similar concerns with my previous midwife, and I absolutely fell in love with her. So I wanted to be open and give this relationship a chance.

So that is really the background for my birth experience.

Again, my due date was December 18, 2010. My husband was scheduled to be home for his midtour leave on that very day. But in a series of unfortunate events, he missed several flights, some flights were canceled, he was lower priority for some flights, and by the time he made it to Kuwait, there was a huge snowstorm covering all of Europe. So more delayed and canceled flights. It was one thing after the other, and we were holding out hope and praying as hard as we could that our little baby would wait for Daddy to come home. And she did, she really did.

And then some. He finally made it home very late at night on December 22. And she still waited. Christmas Eve came, and my midwife swept my membranes. She swore by her skills in this particular area. She used evening primrose oil and spent a good five minutes gently sweeping my membranes. And it looked good. Lots of bloody show. And steady contractions, 10 minutes apart. My husband and I spent that evening assembling Christmas toys, and I was secretely joyed at the thought of having a Christmas baby born at home. But by 2 am....the contractions fizzled to nothing. Not even the Braxton Hicks contractions I'd been having throughout my last trimester. So Christmas came and went with no baby in sight.

I was getting cranky. Very impatient. It's hard to describe unless you've been there, but being overdue can put you on edge. You analyze every single twinge that your body makes, thinking "Is this it?!" It gets very tiresome. And then you have every loved person and those who are not so loved calling you daily, hourly, asking for updates, "Are you in labor yet?!" So my patience was wearing thin by that point. We were doing all that we could to bring on contractions, but nothing was working.

On December 27, I begged my sister-in-laws to take me out for some spicy Mexican food, thinking it might help. It was good, but it didn't help one bit. I had my 41 week appointment with my midwife the next day. And I woke up sick to my stomach. And I never get sick. I immediately vomitted (for the first time that pregnancy), and I was miserable. But we dropped the girls off with my sister-in-law and headed to my midwife's office. Once I got there, I vomitted yet again. Everyone was taking this to be a good sign. I was miserable and convinced that the Mexican food I had eaten the day before was bad. My midwife swept my membranes again, and not so much bloody show this time. We discussed what our options were if I got to 42 weeks and no baby to show for it. Then I went home and slept.

I woke up early that evening when my husband came home with the girls. We hung out for a bit, and I was feeling much better. No contractions at all, so I figured that the membrane sweeping didn't work yet again. But I knew that a baby was coming soon, whether she did it on her own or not, so I decided to get as much sleep as possible. I went to bed at 7:30 that evening.

I vaguely recall waking to some contractions, but nothing painful, nothing serious, and most importantly, nothing consistent. So I kept sleeping. My husband finally joined me in bed at about 10:00. I kind of rolled over, half asleep, and told him I was having contractions here and there, but nothing that made me think the baby was coming soon. So he hoped in bed next to me, and I turned out the light.

And then about 20 minutes later, a contraction hit. And it HURT. Like really, REALLY HURT. I had a natural childbirth before, and this contraction felt like a 5-7 cm contraction. Not a 2 cm contraction (which is what I was when the midwife swept my membranes earlier that day). So I decided to see if another one would come. And 7 minutes later, sure enough, there was another really painful contraction. I was convinced that it was nothing but me being a weenie, but my midwife asked that I call as soon as I felt anything, so I obliged.

I got out of bed, went downstairs, and I called her. And while I was on the phone, 7 minutes after my last contraction, came another one. And this one I had to moan through. Oh my. At this point, I was thinking, "Wow, I don't remember my contractions hurting this much this early on." I mean, I still didn't think I was in labor. But my midwife heard my moan, and she told me she was coming immediately. I was on the phone with her for about 20 minutes, and in that time, my contractions started getting closer, to about 4-5 minutes apart. I got off the phone then called my sister-in-law, who was acting as my somewhat doula. She's not a doula, but she has had her own natural childbirths, so she could offer me some empathy. I still needed to call our birth photographer (whom I hired because I wasn't sure if my husband was going to make it home in time for the birth or not).

But...I couldn't call. It was only 30 minutes after I had woken up, and I knew at that point that it was the real deal. And I knew that I needed to get back upstairs and get into the bathtub immediately. Because if I didn't get up in the next couple of contractions, I'd be giving birth downstairs. I was in shock. This was not how my births go. So I started my journey up the stairs, stopping once for a massive contraction. I started the tub, then I went to wake up my husband to tell him the midwife and his sister were on their way. And to please call the photographer because I couldn't.

I immediately stripped and entered the steaming hot bathtub. And there I labored for quite a while. The details are fuzzy, but the midwife, my sister-in-law, then the photographer at some point arrived. All the while, I was moaning and "mooing" (as my husband calls it) in the tub. Begging for a break, even though my contractions were still a good 4 minutes apart. But the actual contractions themselves were massive. Painful. Beyond what I remembered feeling with my previos birth. I wasn't even an hour into labor, and I was saying, "I have to go to the hospital. I have to get something for this pain. It wasn't like this the last time!"

I want to point out here. During my previos labor, I had never once asked to go to the hospital (that I remember!). I did say that I couldn't do it. But I don't recall ever once saying that I needed to go into the hospital.

And here I was, an hour into labor, and I was begging to go to the hospital. The midwife, my sister-in-law, my husband...they were all telling me NO. Well, that's what I felt like, anyway. I felt like no one was listening to me. I realize that they were trying to support me, and that many women go through this phase of labor. But no one was listening to me. I needed help. I don't know if having a trained doula would have made a difference, but I needed some kind of support that I wasn't getting. I was getting people telling me I can and WAS doing it, when I was saying "I can't!" But I don't recall anyone touching me in a meaningful way (meaningful to a laboring woman, that is). My midwife and her partner did monitor heart tones, which is their job. But I don't recall anyone trying to help me overcome the pain. I just remember feeling like I was a circus act. So many people standing around watching me writhe in pain, screaming to the point of straining my voice, gribbing the baby's crib with my white, white knuckles, begging, pleading for someone to please make it stop. Screaming that it was supposed to be like this. And pleading, begging, please, someone, ANYONE, take me to the hospital to make it stop!

And no one listened to me.

That is what hurts me most, I think, in all of this. That no one listened to me. I KNOW they thought they were supporting my decision to have a homebirth, that they thought I was doing what every woman does. But there comes a point where it turns into torture and not support. I was scared because no one was listening to me. I wanted to throw on my clothes and drive myself to the hospital. But contractions were coming fast and furious at this point.

And by this time, I had climbed out of the tub and managed to make it to my bedroom. The midwife checked my dilation (with my consent), and I was 7 centimeters. Amazing. I wasn't even 2 hours into labor, and I was already 7 centimeters. But I was panicked. I needed the pain to STOP. Contractions were coming about 2 mintues apart and lasting about a minute. I wasn't getting much of a break. And what scared me most was that even when I wasn't contraction, I was still in severe pain. It was almost as if the contractions weren't letting up, only lightening up a bit in between.

My midwife then offered to break my water to speed it up. I think anyone feeling like I was would jump on that chance. Even knowing what that meant. Stronger contractions. Closer contractions. So I agreed.

And there was meconium. Lots of it. It scared me. See, my oldest daughter aspirated on meconium. So seeing goopy greenish brown meconium just pour out of my body did not help an already frightened me. And then the contractions. I didn't think it was possible for the pain to get worse. Oh, but it did! And they started coming even closer, leaving me with mere seconds between the end of one and the start of the next. It was truly unbearable.

Somewhere in this haze of labor, I grabbed a hold of my husband, grasping his shirt with both of my hands during one of my very brief breaks during contractions. I looked him in the eye, and I said, "You have. To. Take. Me. In."

I don't know what it was that did it, but at that point, he dropped everything and agreed to take me in. I wanted to shout with joy that here was someone finally listening to me! It took a while to get dressed and to get out the door because the contactions just wouldn't let up. I didn't have a hospital bag packed, so I just threw on some clothes and got to the car as fast as I could.

I want to add here that my midwife wanted me to go to a hospital that was 30 minutes away. I lived 2 miles from another hospital. When I insisted on going to that hospital, for fear of not making it to the other, my midwife and her partner tried to talk me out of it. They assured me that this particular hospital would (and I quote) "abuse" me for being a homebirth transfer. But I didn't care. I really truly didn't care. I NEEDED pain relief, and I couldn't go 30 minutes when there was a hospital 5 minutes away.

So we went to the nearby hospital. And everyone also warned me that I would hate the car ride there. But that wasn't true. I think knowing that I would be getting some relief soon helped. But the main thing that helped was that it was 17 degrees. The cold caused my contractions to space out a bit further, and it made them a bit more bearable. But it also helped that my husband sped through town to get me there as fast as possible. It was 1:30 am at this time (I had been laboring for 3 hours since my first labor contraction started). So I was thankful for no traffic.

We arrived at the emergency entrance, and they threw me into a wheel chair, and they rushed me to Labor and Delivery. I was *that* woman, that screaming, yelling, thrashing woman. But I didn't care. All I knew was that there was an anesthesiologist, and he was coming to my rescue.

There was a problem though. I hadn't planned to transfer, so I was not registered with the hospital. They also didn't have any of my prenatal records. So there was a definite delay in getting any relief. They put me in a room and tried to get my information from me. And during each and every contraction, I would hold onto the bed rail, and writhe with pain, screaming, screaming for someone to please help me, someone, anyone, PLEASE HELP ME!

I was 9 centimeters. I was also in so much pain that I clenched every single muscle in my body. I was inhibiting my body from giving birth because the pain was too intense. None of my relaxation techniques could break through this haze of pain, no matter how hard I tried. And now the nurses informed me that I wouldn't be able to get any pain medication because I was too far along.

And again...something happened, and then they listened to me. I screamed again, over and over, praying a screaming prayer to God to please help me! Please send someone, anyone to please please, God, help me!

And God answered my prayers. The anesthesiologist finally got there and swiftly administered a spinal. And it was immediate relief. Immediate. It was God answering my prayers. I thought I would get an epidural, but it was a blesseed spinal. And so I began to profusely thank God for saving me. Over and over, I thanked God out loud. My husband later informed me that I was calling the anesthesiologist "God". But I wasn't. I was actually thanking GOD. He heard my prayers, and He answered them. He heard me when I couldn't get anyone else to hear me.

So...I arrived at the hospital approximately at 1:30 am. I was finally given my spinal at about 2:00 am. My midwife had arrived behind me and was able to provide the hospital with my prenatal information. After the spinal, everything suddenly got quiet. Because I was no longer screaming, and there was no longer a frantic energy to help me.

But. The spinal? It stopped the pain. And when the pain stopped, my tensing up stopped. I immediately relaxed. And all of a sudden, I felt it. That feeling I had never dreamed I'd feel. One that I had never before felt. The mythical urge to push! And it was like they say! I had absolutely no control over it...this baby was coming whether we were ready or not! The nurse asked me to wait for the doctor, placing her hand on my baby's emerging head. But I had no control. At the last moment, the doctor rushed in and caught my baby! She was born at 2:16 am.

*Note: I know many people will say that I was just so far along that the urge to push merely coincided with my spinal. But I am adament that the spinal relaxed my muscles, and that is what led to my dilation and urge to push. It wasn't a matter of timing; it was that I finally stopped fighting my body. It was almost as though I could feel it happening. I do believe that had I stayed home, I would have labored much longer because I was fighting it so hard.

My baby had to be taken immediately by the nurses for suctioning due to the heavy meconium. But she was healthy (and a she! We didn't find out until then!), and within a few minutes, they brought her over to me. I immediately offered her my breast, and she immediatley latched on like you wouldn't believe. She latched perfectly, like she was made to nurse.

I did have a second degree tear, so the doctor had to stich me up. The nurses finished collecting information about me. The doctor introduced himself too, which we all had a laugh about. I was so happy to have my baby, and I was in shock that it happened so fast. Not even 4 hours from waking up with that first contraction. Amazing! I felt so elated. Even though I did have a spinal for the last 10-15 minutes, I still felt that I pretty much had a natural childbirth. I know that technically I didn't, but 95% of it was, and I felt great.

Then the midwife. She came out of nowhwere. She leaned over, while I was reveling in my baby's newborn squishiness. And she said, "I'll give you a partial refund."

It was just so inappropriate to me. Money, and the midwife, really, were the last things on my mind. It kind of brought me down, back to earth, which was not where I wanted to be. I wanted to be above the clouds with my baby. I wanted to ask the midwife to leave the room. But luckily she ended up leaving soon after that. And I never saw her again.

The hospital that was "abusive"? They were so amazing! Every single staffer who came in offered me awesome support and sympathy for having had a much different birth than I had planned for. Even the head of the nurses (not the L&D nurses but all of the hospital's nurses) came in to speak with me about it. She assured me that it was their utmost priority to respect me and my changed birth plan. In fact, they were the extreme opposite of abusive. They were respectful in every way.

And the nurses were great. They never took my baby away. They never gave me a hard time for sleeping with in my bed. They came when I called. They were friendly, and one nurse even confided in me that she was expecting a new baby...she didn't want to tell anyone yet, but she was so excited and saw how happy I was with my baby that she felt she could tell me. It was nothing like my first hospital experience. It was wonderful and relaxing and everything good. Like my homebirth. Except maybe even a little better because I had food service 24 hours a day! And it was good food!

I did eventually hear from my midwife again. She called me 3 days later. I believe (though I can't be sure) that this phone call was merely to put in her records that she did a "postpartum" visit. She told me she'd mail me a check for my partial refund. It was all very cold. She did mail the refund, and she did call me again, conveniently enough, at 6 weeks postpartum. Again, I believe this was for her records and not for any concern about me or my baby. It really left me with a sour feeling. I felt like she was angry with me for transfering (and therefore messing with her statistics). She even told me she hadn't expected it from me, a third-time mom.

I feel that if anyone was abusive, it was her. I do want to say that she was capable. But her "bedside manner" was severely lacking. She didn't listen to me. She didn't respect me. In our phone conversation, she told me that when I was in labor and saying, "It wasn't like this with my last baby!"...she thought I was just saying that. I know that midwives must hear a lot of things from laboring mamas. But I think an important part of the job is knowing how to differentiate between a mom in transition and having normal transition doubts versus a mom who is truly in excruciating pain, someone who does need help beyond the scope of the midwife's abilities. I feel like she didn't listen to me.

So, I do have an overall positive experience with my birth. But I do regret my choice of midwife. We weren't a good personality match, and I knew that from the start. I regret not listening to my instincts.

And now I'm left to digest and reflect on my birth experience. And my future birth experiences. I don't know anymore. I always thought I would be a homebirthing mama for future babies. But now I'm not so sure. I still remember my birth with a feeling of shock at the speed and moreso the sheer intensity of it. I'm left feeling a bit resentful of the natural childbirth advocates who say that pain is just in a person's mind. That if they relax enough, it won't hurt so badly. That if they are educated and not fearful, they will be able to have easy, relatively pain-free births. That pain comes from inexperience, ignorance, fear. I resent that I feel like I have to start my birth story off with, "I had a successful homebirth with my second child...I HAD a pain-med free birth." Because that clause says so much. That I am strong. That I am capable of having a baby without pain meds. Therefore I am educated. I am not afraid. That I know how to work with my body. So where does that leave me now? Am I wimp for needing pain relief? Or is pain subjective? Did I truly feel more pain this time around?

I am left with many, many questions. About myself, and moreso about the natural childbirth movement. Don't get me wrong; I am and always will be a an advocate for natural childbirth. But even more for informed childbirth. I was informed. I knew when my birth moved from the realm of pain I could handle to pain that was beyoned any alternative technique to help.

I don't know where I'm going with this because, like I said, I am left with a lot of questions.