tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30751399658461180642024-03-13T12:52:16.913-07:00Happy With Hospital BirthPositive birth stories ... from a hospital settingAlexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-59886537123410774802013-04-12T07:41:00.001-07:002013-04-12T07:41:25.628-07:00Luke's beginning<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i>I'm so excited to share my friend Carrie's story. Luke's birth story, coupled with a family member's abruption around the same time, had a huge impact on the way I thought about birth.</i></div>
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The nurses called him lucky. One of the doctors said he was a miracle. We know that God was watching over us as Lucas came into the world. Here's the story of his rough start, but, all in all, a wonderful beginning.</div>
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My first pregnancy and delivery was pretty typical except for a few brief moments when my little girl’s heartbeat dipped during delivery. Otherwise, it left me completely at ease for the second time around, which came 18 months later — to the day. I never had any problems during my pregnancy with my son besides the typical swelling of the feet and ankles and horrible heartburn.</div>
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So, when the big day arrived, all I had was excitement to go along with those fun contractions. I had been having contractions all morning, but didn't think much of it since this had been happening for the past several weeks. While my husband kept telling me to rest, I kept on doing what I needed to accomplish for the day. On my way back from a little errand, I began to realize that the contractions were getting pretty strong and started timing. When I arrived home, I surprised everyone by saying that we might be going to the hospital. I labored at home for a couple hours, timing contractions, double checking my bag, and wishing that my water would break so that I would know that it was really going to happen. Thankfully, it didn't.</div>
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Once we arrived at the hospital, the nurses took 20 minutes to come check on me. I must have been holding it together pretty well while getting checked in. They had no idea that Luke was just about ready to get the show on the road. I shocked them when they discovered I was dilated to 7 centimeters, and they quickly got me moved to a delivery room.</div>
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From there things really slowed down. Three hours later we were still waiting for my water to break so that dilation would happen faster. The nurses double-checked that I didn't want the doctor to break my water, and I figured that since we weren't in a hurry, we might as well let things happen naturally. Thankfully, this was exactly what needed to happen, because once my water did break things started to go wrong — really wrong.</div>
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As soon as I hit 10 centimeters, my water broke, which caused him to drop, and since the cord was wrapped around his neck, it must have caused so much tension that the cord ruptured and the placenta tore away. Without the placenta remaining intact, blood wasn't circulating into his body. But no one knew any of this just yet. The nurse was calling code blue and searching for my little guy’s heartbeat. From the silence on the monitor, I knew she couldn't find one. I held my husband’s hand tightly and searched his eyes for reassurance. He said that it was okay, but I knew he didn't believe it. The room quickly filled with nurses and doctors. Half of them surrounded me as they asked questions of each other. Then they all said, "Push!" And, quite easily, as a matter of fact, he was here!</div>
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I heard him cry and expected them to hand him to me, but instead he was passed to the team of NICU doctors and nurses that had rushed in 6 minutes ago. I tried to catch a glimpse of him, but couldn't see much. They said they'd have to take him to the NICU to look him over and that I could see him for just a moment. I'll never forget looking down on his little head covered with a striped, cotton hat and seeing his deep blue eyes looking directly back at me. I murmured a few sentences to him and then they took him away.</div>
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My husband asked to go with him, and though I needed him beside me at that time, I knew our son needed his daddy more. Thankfully, our family was there awaiting the birth of the new family member, and they kept me company until I was finally able to see my son. As the nurses finished their post-delivery duties, they repeatedly filled me in on what happened. They said that I did great. That getting him out in 6 minutes saved his life. A few minutes more and he wouldn't have made it. I was numb to everything they were saying and could only think about when I would get to hold my baby.</div>
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Two hours had passed before I was able to be wheeled up to the NICU. A doctor came by immediately to fill me in on how he was doing. I did my best to make it look like I was listening, but I just stared at my little baby and wondered if this was really happening. We weren't able to hold him, just touch him through the little doors of the isolette. He was given the last available bed in the whole facility. They were getting ready to give him a blood transfusion and hoping that his blood pressure would rise.</div>
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We hardly slept that night and were back up in the NICU early that morning to see how he was doing. The nurses were so kind, were eager to answer our questions and offer any support that they could. It was hard to hear them say how lucky they thought him to be. The transfusion went well and we were able to hold him for a little while. Twelve hours after he was born! It felt so good; like a whole in my heart had just been filled. His blood pressure was still a concern, and they continued to run tests to determine why. Later that day we found out that his platelet levels were terribly low and that he would need to be given more. He was put on five days of antibiotics in case there was an infection causing this, which meant that hopes of him coming home with us were looking pretty slim.</div>
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By day two, his blood pressure was looking much better, but he still needed to be given plasma and another blood transfusion. They would run tests that night to see if that corrected everything. Fortunately, the doctor had determined that he was healthy enough to eat. FINALLY! Poor little guy had been going to town on his pacifier, and he was hungry. Family brought our daughter to visit us at the hospital, and that really helped keep our spirits up. We stayed as long as we could, but that night I was discharged and we had to go home empty-handed. I'll never forget the emptiness I felt as I climbed into bed that night. He had been with me every night for the past 9 months, but tonight we were apart.</div>
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The following morning, we learned that his platelet levels were still low, but hadn't fallen. He was eating really well and the doctor was finally convinced that I could give him everything he needed. We had an awesome nurse that pushed for keeping him strictly on breast milk. By day four, we learned that he was creating platelets on his own, which meant that there wasn't an infection and the low levels were simply due to his rough start. It also meant that he could be taken off the antibiotics. Things were looking up and we had settled into a little routine.</div>
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On day five, we received the wonderful news that he could go home the next day. We wore permanent smiles for at least the next 24 hours. It was over. All the worrying, wondering, and fear were behind us and all that was left to do was thank God, pack up our things, and head home. While we had to wait a few days extra, we still got to experience the happy homecoming we were expecting; a memory that will stay with me always. We are so thankful that we had such wonderful nurses and doctors to take care of Lucas and that we had so much support from family and friends, but most of all, we are thankful that today he is thriving and healthy.</div>
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Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-88551202353937984452013-03-20T12:33:00.000-07:002013-03-20T12:33:36.459-07:00'You can still wind up with an emergency C-section that is a GOOD EXPERIENCE'Rachael shares her son's birth story:</P>
<P>I found out I had gestational diabetes at my first OB appointment. It was so early it wasn't even the OB I saw, but a nurse educator. I failed the glucose drink test and was sent for a 3-hour fasting to confirm. I also have PCOS, so insulin resistance from that coupled with a ridiculously strong family history (both parents, an uncle with Type 1, aunt with GD, all grandparents …) and the fact that I was not in optimal physical condition when I finally got pregnant (depression due to the difficulty conceiving from my PCOS led me to gain weight, and I was obese at the time) all combined to make me a perfect GD storm. It was definitely GD though as my A1C was fine; I had a hard time convincing some not-exactly-well-informed nurses that I wasn't a Type 2, but that's another story.</P>
<P>I started out on oral meds within a couple of weeks of my diagnosis, in addition to receiving nutritional counseling, upping my exercise intake, and put on a minimum 4 times daily blood glucose monitoring regimen.</P>
<P>Throughout all this, I knew I wanted a vaginal birth and blindly believed I would be a good candidate for it. I studied child development and early childhood education in college, which focused heavily on attachment parenting and all the choices that tend to go along with that, and was pretty upset the option of even TRYING a midwifery was stolen from me (GD is considered high risk, and midwives don't work with high risk patients).</P>
<P>My pregnancy was not a healthy one. I blessedly avoided severe morning sickness, but had a whole domino effect of complications and illnesses. I had repeated UTIs and yeast infections. I had thrush on my skin for most of the entire pregnancy. I had bad acid reflux (a preexisting condition due to my obesity but was managed with Nexium) that continued to require treatment. I developed respiratory problems and had "pregnancy induced asthma" — I had asthma as a child of two smokers, but hadn't needed treatment or been symptomatic since I was 10 - which required 3 different inhaled, oral steroids that I had to be on for the duration of my pregnancy (steroids raise blood sugar, you can see how this is a vicious cycle.) I came down with the regular seasonal flu (after getting both the flu shot and H1N1 shot — my OB said to be thankful I got the vaccine before I contracted the illness, since the way it reduces the severity of the symptoms is probably the only thing that kept me out of the hospital!) and then required oral steroids and Tamiflu and Ciproflaxin. While I managed to avoid hospitalization for the flu, I was pretty seriously ill and took multiple courses of the steroids to get well - all of which aggravated my diabetes.</P>
<P>Basically, I was getting sicker and sicker the further my pregnancy progressed. I saw a regular OB and a maternal fetal health specialist for high risk pregnancies. I had to send in my blood sugars once a week for the entire time I was pregnant. I had about 80 appointments for the whole 9 months or so. I had so many ultrasounds I lost count. Throughout ALL of this, I still planned on having a natural, unmedicated birth. I don't know WHAT I was thinking - clearly it was wishful thinking, not reality-based thinking!</P>
<P>My son was thriving and doing very well despite the medical hell and overall lifestyle of a senior citizen that I was living. He didn't start to measure big until the very end of my pregnancy. All of a sudden, my fluids were measuring very low, he shot up to an estimated 8 pounds, and I was having severe edema and borderline low blood pressure. At 37 weeks, I asked my doctor about induction. At that point, I had been on four-times-daily injectable insulin (which I had to inject myself right into my baby bump!) and was just so ready to be done.</P>
<P>She reviewed my current numbers and agreed that I was a good candidate for induction. 3 days later, after a nice dinner out together the night before, my husband and I showed up at the hospital at about 7 at night. I should have eaten before I got there! I just sort of assumed they'd feed me, but I had missed dinner time and all they had was a vending machine sandwich. I spent my entire labor asking everyone who came in the room what they had eaten most recently and then salivating over what they told me!</P>
<P>That night I got a pill to dilate my cervix inserted vaginally and an Ambien to sleep. I didn't sleep at all as I was woken up a lot for monitoring — at least my husband slept that night. In the morning I had progressed well, so I got to start pitocin (no breakfast though — sob!). After a few hours of that, I was still progressing well but they wanted me to walk around to help things along. I had not one but TWO IV trees hooked up to me (six different medications/fluids being needed at once! The nurses told me that it was the most they had ever seen for an induction. I was a very sick woman.), so my husband had to push one and I pushed the other as we walked around. His best friend came by to visit while we were walking and I remember distinctly telling him to LEAVE, NOW because the walking had kickstarted active labor with a bang.</P>
<P>The contractions started out at a manageable level. The labor nurses I had were great and very supportive. At first I wanted to just curl up in bed through them. They suggested I try the labor ball, the tub, etc. The tub was heavenly — but they made me get out after 30 minutes or so I think for monitoring. They were concerned about my son's heart rate and I had been hooked up to an external fetal monitor since they had started the pitocin earlier in the morning. Once I got out of the tub, all of a sudden, the intensity ratcheted up to an 11, at least. The contractions were UNBEARABLE. I think I stuck it out for something like four hours from the start of labor, and then I asked for an epidural. I have never been so happy to see a man in scrubs in my life.</P>
There was one issue with administering the epidural — they had to do something with my multiple IV sites — I seem to remember I had one in each hand. At some point one of them just got removed and I looked down as I felt wet — blood was GUSHING out of the port on my hand. All while the anesthesiologist was in the middle of doing the epidural. I just closed my eyes and sort of turned my head away while the nurses apologized, stopped it, and got me cleaned up. It was all over in a few seconds, thankfully!</P>
After the epidural I felt MUCH better. I was able to get some rest (I hadn't slept the whole night before) with the only really annoyance being the blood pressure cuff I had to wear constantly. Some of our family showed up to visit, and I could chat with them (chat = ask them about what they had for breakfast). I got to have some crushed ice. It was overall a pleasant, dreamy time of waiting and resting.</P>
<P>About 14 hours after labor had started, I was at a 10, 100 percent effaced, and ready for pushing. The first few pushes were thrilling. I was so excited — my son would finally be here soon! Pushing soon got exhausting, though. I started vomiting with every contraction and push. Two hours of pushing later, I was screaming in exhaustion and pain. Even though I had had two epidural bolsters, I was still able to feel about half of my body — not as intensely as I would have otherwise, but enough to feel pain. The vomiting had really taken a lot out of me. I started screaming that I was done and that I wanted a C-section. The OB on call (my regular one had to leave in the middle of labor!) was so sweet and gentle — she told me 10 more minutes of GOOD trying and then she could call it. I did my pushes dutifully, while watching the clock. When it hit 10 minutes I screamed, "I'M DONE!!!!" — haha. My husband thought I was "giving up" because we both knew how much we wanted a natural birth experience, having read about how much more beneficial it is with breast feeding, health, bonding, etc.</P>
<P>The anesthesiologist came in again I think, gave me much more medicine, thank God. They gave me IV anti-nausea medication that I was SO RELIEVED to get — but later on we realized I had a bad reaction to it. It was Zofran and it basically knocked me out completely. The rest of what happened is a blur — I had to fight to stay conscious and only remember glimpses here and there. I remember how cold the OR was, one of the medical personal by my head singing along with the music that was playing in the room (it was the radio or something, and an '80s song). I remember them saying something like "Why is she so sleepy?" I remember the sensation of being pushed and pulled on when they removed my son. I remember the way my husband's face changed as if he'd been slapped — he went from being tense and disappointed to utterly shocked — my son was about 2 full pounds bigger than they had estimated. He was just HUGE and we were totally unprepared for him to be that bi g… and, also, no wonder he had not fit through the birth canal! After that, it's a blur.</P>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh49T5P3Y1QMKNoBeo4NyYtXTW_VhdM8y-DkX6qbrJv5fSPuYKEaUz__f77kzgVPWtw-__urFzRLMVfSYsJlLdFxzQXFYHjDPofeGWMbPp0Mn3fHYiw3_uNEsoTrgT-3w7LDBd2phLdvqHg/s1600/IMG_3419.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh49T5P3Y1QMKNoBeo4NyYtXTW_VhdM8y-DkX6qbrJv5fSPuYKEaUz__f77kzgVPWtw-__urFzRLMVfSYsJlLdFxzQXFYHjDPofeGWMbPp0Mn3fHYiw3_uNEsoTrgT-3w7LDBd2phLdvqHg/s320/IMG_3419.jpeg" title="" /></a>I woke up in the recovery room and was shaking badly. I felt awful but it was quickly fading. I nursed my son, sleepily, and mostly just sat there while the nurse and my husband held him to my breast. I asked if he was latching on (something I was very concerned about due to the C-section) and the nurse said he was a champ, then I passed out again. I later found out that he had some blood sugar issues and that my husband had given him some of the colostrum we had brought with us via a syringe while I was in recovery sleeping.</P>
<P>We got sent to a regular mother-baby room at that point, which was about 4 a.m. the next morning. I had checked in at 7 p.m. on a Tuesday and had my son at 1 a.m. on Thursday — we were all EXHAUSTED! Of course family started coming a few short hours later. My husband and I were both on cloud nine, though — other than being tired, we were elated. The lack of oxytocin I was so worried about with a C-section was not a problem. I was soooo happy I had had a C-section, and that my son was now in my arms, healthy, safe, and sound. I was so thrilled to EAT!</P>
<P>My son nursed great from the beginning, other than being a little sleepy due to being a late-term preemie. Also because he was so large, he tended to stay asleep longer than normal. He lost a bit more weight than they wanted (but, honestly, he was HUGE …) so I had to supplement him for about two days with formula — which at the time was upsetting and I cried, but in hindsight no biggie and I was obviously hormonal!</P>
<P>The nurses and CNA's I had were all SO WONDERFUL and nice and sweet and caring. They helped me have the best shower of my life. They helped us with everything, really, and were just such kind, nurturing presences that we were very grateful to have. I was doing well and so was my son (other than the weight thing). I had one bad lactation consultant — but that seems to be par for the course with them, there are bad ones and good ones and most mothers experience a little both of both. The majority of staff we had were just lovely though.</P>
<P>The hospital was a brand-new one and the rooms were gorgeous and hotel like. The food was good. There was cable TV. We had round-the-clock assistance with anything we might need and free snacks. I was in the hospital for three days after giving birth (the maximum stay covered by our insurance) before we went home. The whole experience was calming and relaxing and I would recommend it to anyone — who wouldn't want room service and a maid while you are dealing with the biggest transformation of your life!?</P>
<P>My incision healed wonderfully. Honestly, the stretch marks are much worse than worrying about some tiny scar! The worst part about the surgery was the itching from the leftover adhesive from the bandages. My son started gaining weight again within a few days after my milk came in (which took five days). I was able to start exercising after 6 weeks and eventually worked my butt off and ran my first ever half marathon last summer (when my son was 17 months old).</P>
<P>Now I am pregnant again with our second and last child. Despite being in much better physical condition, I have contracted early-onset GD once more. It seems to be going better this time though — I'm 15.5 weeks and no meds yet! I'm hopeful that I will be a bit healthier, but my husband and I both have MUCH more realistic expectations for pregnancy and birth. We are going to be scheduling a C-section this time and couldn't be happier about it. I am actually LOOKING FORWARD TO IT! I am hoping for a much calmer, more aware experience. I know now to stay away from Zofran … I can't wait to just be conscious and present for birth!</P>
<P>I hope you can use my story. I think it's great for women to know that even in a high risk complication-ridden birth, you can still wind up with an emergency C-section that is a GOOD EXPERIENCE.</P>Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-74184031141384906522013-02-08T06:56:00.002-08:002013-02-08T06:56:17.732-08:00The Amazing Truth About Hospital Birth, Part IIWe had so much positive feedback about our last post that we thought we'd do another to share some of the beautiful hospital birth photos we received!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB_Z7RsDImCDGCk70CJEgUKW77MTp5LiQmBAW_p_0L3PBgZkyu-lmTM6Yy_LeBKoFbHSkN6rFQcHfTHz-mMGNTlrgJN_M0iguoMiGWx_eAphidqoIJ_nyhrp6-KgwbT4zMqiWS35ydWjJe/s1600/meghan.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-75327686724771540332013-02-05T08:27:00.000-08:002013-02-05T08:27:12.529-08:00The Amazing Truth About Hospital Birth: A Pictorial DisplayAn answer to <a href="http://birthofanewearth.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-amazing-truth-about-homebirth.html">"The Amazing Truth About Homebirth: A Pictorial Display."</a> You don't have to have a baby at home to be blissfully happy!<br />
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<br />Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-34653408129755553042013-01-24T07:11:00.001-08:002013-01-24T07:11:43.875-08:00What's really routine?Our friends at <a href="http://safermidwiferyformichigan.blogspot.com/">Safer Midwifery for Michigan</a> have a terrific <a href="http://safermidwiferyformichigan.blogspot.com/2013/01/ask-ob-fear-of-unwanted-interventions.html">"Ask an OB" post</a> today about "routine" interventions. I think this is a really important post, because many of the things I see women worrying about (like routine episiotomies) are really not done anymore.<br />
<br />Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-70730530812427890312012-12-31T11:22:00.000-08:002012-12-31T11:22:47.464-08:00Quinn's beautiful hospital birth<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>I'm so happy that my friend Regina chose to share her story here! She sent it to me after we were talking about how we both felt misled by "The Business of Being Born":</i></span></span><br />
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4697858972940594" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Before jumping into my second child’s hospital birth story, let me give you some background. Our first child was born at home with a certified professional midwife who, although she was highly recommended, ended up being a big bully and pushed many “natural” interventions on me by playing on my fear of the hospital. I am thankful that my daughter and I are safe despite the midwife’s mismanagement of my labor. That experience with the midwife led me to search out why my experience was so different from others who have homebirths, but then I learned that it wasn’t so different and I realized that there are birth bullies everywhere.<br class="kix-line-break" /><br class="kix-line-break" />Fast forward to when I became pregnant with my second child. I was so sick at the thought of calling our former midwife for my files that I made my husband do it. I couldn’t bring myself to even talk to her on the phone. We talked to many people during our search for an OB/GYN (which began before we got pregnant, but continued for 12 weeks into it). We finally settled on a doctor who was highly recommended by friends, strangers (on the internet), homebirthers, and hospital birthers. She was from Ghana and didn’t bat an eye when she heard our first birth had been at home, instead she asked why we were choosing to use the hospital this time. She made no judgement of anyone after my story was shared, simply said, “Well, we’re going to make this birth a good one.”<br class="kix-line-break" /><br class="kix-line-break" />On to the birth story! My labor began early one morning. We were using Hypnobabies for our “birthing method” so I chose to remain still and utterly relaxed in the quiet house. For 5 hours I labored this way, enjoying the quiet, and believing that I was still in the very early stages of labor since my contractions were no worse that strong menstrual cramps. When I finally started timing the contractions, I was surprised to see how regular they were: lasting 1 minute and coming every 5 minutes. <br class="kix-line-break" /><br class="kix-line-break" />I finally forced myself to get up and start collecting things for our hospital bags and our 2.5-year-old girl’s bag. Within minutes of getting up, the contractions severely intensified and I started feeling sick. My husband woke up in the midst of this and I informed him of what was going on. The lucky man was only aware of my labor for the last quarter of it. ;) Somewhere in the midst of packing, contractions, dealing with my fear of labor, getting our girl up, fed, and off with the child care I lost my center and couldn’t regain full control of myself. There was no where to retreat to hide; I had to keep going forward and I didn’t want to.<br class="kix-line-break" /><br class="kix-line-break" />After what seemed like an eternity, we finally arrived at the hospital. I had been laboring for 6.5 hours at this point. As the nurses cheerfully checked me in, they tried to comfort me. When I expressed my desire to be left alone, they quieted down and stopped touching me except for necessary things (which is exactly waht I wanted--I can’t stand being touched while in labor). One of those necessary things was an IV for antibiotics since I was GBS+. It took several tries to get the IV in because I was mildly dehydrated from not drinking much over night and because I kept moving during contractions. I was never scolded, but eventually the nurses figured out a way to help me hold still long enough to get the tricky IV in.<br class="kix-line-break" /><br class="kix-line-break" />Once most of the business was taken care of (I later learned they totally ditched the intake interview and paperwork), they finally checked my dilation. At that point, I learned that--yay!--I was almost 8cm dilated but, sadly, that meant that there wasn’t time to set up the birthing tub. I had been looking forward to a water birth. Guess we should have gotten to the hospital sooner, but I thought I still had hours and hours to go. <br class="kix-line-break" /><br class="kix-line-break" />As soon as they were done with those checks, I was off that hospital bed as quickly as I could move. They brought me a birthing ball that I draped myself over and rocked and moaned. At some point, they fastened the baby heart monitor onto me and that thing proved to be a pain. The baby did not like staying on the monitor and that made the nurses (and therefore, me) nervous. If there were one thing I could change about the whole birth, it would be the monitor alarm. I understand they need to know the baby’s doing OK (they were just trying to get the baseline at this point so they could switch to intermittent monitoring) but if only they could have turned off the alarm sound I could have focused so much better. The alarm kept going off and it would startle me out of any focus I had been able to find.<br class="kix-line-break" /><br class="kix-line-break" />Otherwise, the nurses were great. They brought me hot rice packs, took the clock off the wall so that I couldn’t see it, rearranged the room so that I could labor on the floor, and were otherwise very helpful and sweet. Sometime in all this, my OB arrived and sat quietly in a corner doing paperwork and observing. About 40 minutes after arriving at the hospital, I started feeling the urge to push. My OB commented on it and had the birthing stool brought in but didn’t do anything else except encourage me until my water broke.<br class="kix-line-break" /><br class="kix-line-break" />My water broke with a very loud snap. As the nurses cleaned it up, they realized I was bleeding with it. I was bleeding steadily, though not heavily. They moved me up to the bed to get a better look and after a pushing contraction, they guessed that I must have torn inside the birth canal though they couldn’t tell for sure at that point (this did turn out to be true, thankfully). At this point, the OB requested that I remain on the bed so she could keep a closer eye on the bleeding and asked me to push as hard as I could with each contraction--I believe her words were, “Time to get this baby out!” They allowed me to get comfortable and change positions for pushing, they just wanted me to stay up on the bed for now. Somewhere in a lull between contractions, one of the nurses joked to me that she was sad I was up on the bed now, she had been looking forward to seeing the OB get down on the floor to catch the baby. This lightened the mood, which was helpful.<br class="kix-line-break" /><br class="kix-line-break" />Within 10 minutes the baby was crowning, and the OB asked if I wanted to catch the baby (I had expressed this desire in my birth plan), I didn’t care at that point and just wailed, “I don’t care; I just want the baby out!” Our baby boy’s head was born with the next contraction and the OB said very calmly, “The umbilical cord is around his neck twice. Not tight but not loose. Don’t push just yet, Regina.” As soon as the cord was unlooped, his body was born and he was handed directly to me. <br class="kix-line-break" /><br class="kix-line-break" />I was surprised when our son didn’t cry right away. He waved his arms around a bit and kind of mouthed at the air. It seemed strange to me, so I started rubbing him. The nurses started rubbing him as well almost as soon as I had started, so I assume that was the right thing to do. He started crying within a few seconds and everyone left us him alone again.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I kept him on my chest for almost an hour before anyone asked to examine him. Because I was GBS+ and had delivered only an hour after getting the IV started, he needed separate antibiotics and some blood drawn for culturing (I know some people call this ridiculous, but I didn’t want to mess around with GBS). I hated to do it, but they promised to hurry. He was away from me for about 5 minutes and was in my husband’s arms or the bassinet (hospital liability rules) for the whole trip. After he was returned, he was weighed and measured in our room, the hospital bed was exchanged for a queen-sized murphy bed, the much-delayed intake interview was finally conducted (which the nurse giggled through because the questions were ridiculous post-birth), and then we were left alone.<br class="kix-line-break" /><br class="kix-line-break" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Q3CfZeU3Rpcc4gvbCls1XWjjNPXRgad42idoj34o6wVvazv19C8LNxyjR7T7hUHYaZ7f8HqzwGuSiw4CFO29Ig1PcIP7ZraOlqhX3Fc0ppsY2MfEUQ-sopwtLMqhOE9B46RvdvjyQlm6/s1600/2011-09-11+10.22.24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Q3CfZeU3Rpcc4gvbCls1XWjjNPXRgad42idoj34o6wVvazv19C8LNxyjR7T7hUHYaZ7f8HqzwGuSiw4CFO29Ig1PcIP7ZraOlqhX3Fc0ppsY2MfEUQ-sopwtLMqhOE9B46RvdvjyQlm6/s320/2011-09-11+10.22.24.jpg" width="320" /></a>About 5 hours after the baby had been born, I finally called a nurse and asked her when they would wash him (I wanted to feel my baby’s soft hair--it was still matted with blood and mucus or vernix). The nurse said they’d do it in a while. So, 8 hours after birth, he finally had his first bath with both my husband and me in attendance. That night, I snuggled in bed with our finally-clean baby and no one batted an eye when I kept him there with me rather than putting him in the bassinet.<br class="kix-line-break" /><br class="kix-line-break" />Overall, this was a nice experience. Sure, I don’t like giving birth, but I don’t think it could have gone much better with all the small things that went wrong. This hospital was just a small hospital in a small town but they did a great job taking care of me and my baby. It was like staying at a nice hotel. Oh! And the food? It was delicious! The meals were good-sized and the kitchen delivered extra snacks to the new mothers throughout the day. It was great! I was ready to go home after our 48-hour stay, but it was a nice, restful time there and I would be glad to deliver there again.</span></b>Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-14289083824810658542012-11-24T10:32:00.000-08:002012-11-24T10:34:17.609-08:00It's OK to be broken<a href="http://thewildmidwest.wordpress.com/2012/11/24/its-ok-to-be-broken/">New post</a> on my personal blog about feeling like your body is defective because of how you gave (or will give) birth.Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-74837707431691206172012-10-27T10:30:00.002-07:002012-10-27T10:30:53.000-07:00Laboring under misconceptionsHave you seen this going around on Facebook yet? I saw it the other day, and it really ticked me off:<br />
<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Can I labor over there?<br />Can I labor on the chair?<br />No! No labor over there!<br />Don’t labor on the chair!<br />Sit there, sit there, you will see,<br />You must labor with this IV!<br />I do not like this sharp IV!<br />I need to move, to dance, to pee!<br />...Doctor, Doctor, let me be;<br />Say, get your pesky hands off me!<br />No! You can’t move, or dance, or pee!<br />You must labor with this IV!<br />Not over there, not on the chair,<br />Not with the ball, you’ll have a fall!<br />Can I labor with a doula?<br />Can I use some calendula?<br />Can I labor on hands and knees?<br />Can I birth just how I please?<br />No! Not with a doula!<br />No – what’s calendula?<br />Lay back, lay back, count to ten,<br />Breathe – he he hoo – push again!<br />No thank you, doctors, nurse, and crew,<br />I’ll go and labor without you.<br />I’ll labor here, I’ll labor there!<br />In the shower – everywhere!<br />I’ll labor standing, squatting, sitting<br />I’ll labor on my couch while knitting!<br />I’ll have a doula –I’ll have three!<br />They’ll let me eat and bring me tea.<br />Try them! Try them! You will see!<br />You can go shove that darn IV."<br />- author unknown</blockquote>
This is in no way representative of my three birth experiences in a hospital, or of the stories submitted here, and it irks me that this is being passed around as what typically happens at a hospital. (I'm not saying that it <i>never </i>does, but I have yet to have a woman relate an experience like this to me that happened more recently than the 1970s.)<br />
<br />
The part that struck me as funny about this is that I specifically did all of those things in my last labor, with Natalie -- I asked for a birth ball, and they brought me one promptly. I asked to be in the shower, and they happily unhooked my IV (I was GBS-positive) so I could go stand in there as long as I liked. I didn't have a doula, because I didn't want or need one, but I had one at my first birth, and everyone was very welcoming of her. I don't recall sitting in a chair, but I DO recall doing some bellydancing-type hip circles quite a lot. I pushed when and how I wanted, in the position I wanted. And yes, I most certainly peed. (Good lord, where is this hospital that doesn't let laboring women PEE, for crying out loud?)<br />
<br />
If you are passing around this sort of thing, please call and find out what your local hospital actually DOES. If they are not allowing laboring women out of bed, and most particularly if they are not letting them even PEE, then take it up with them -- please. You have my blessing. Heck, drop me a line, and I'll write them a letter, too.<br />
<br />
But please be aware that hospitals that have these sorts of policies are the tiny, tiny minority nowadays in the U.S., and you are in great likelihood spreading misinformation in the name of "educating" women.<br />
Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-43301121311235884412012-07-03T11:58:00.005-07:002012-07-03T11:59:44.687-07:00Join me on Facebook!I totally forgot to share this! I recently started a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Happy-With-Hospital-Birth/128938927245556">Facebook page</a> for Happy With Hospital Birth -- come join us!Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-39297699601881286892012-07-01T15:55:00.003-07:002012-07-01T15:56:08.550-07:00My talk with Kelli of Birth Stories on DemandI had a wonderful time talking the other day with Kelli, fellow Michigander and host of <a href="http://www.birthstoriesondemand.com/">Birth Stories on Demand</a>, for her radio show! We talked about how this blog started, plus lots of other stuff (especially regarding the homebirth movement), and had some callers -- yay!<br />
<br />
You can check it out <a href="http://www.blogtalkradio.com/birth-stories-on-demand/2012/06/29/alexis-coxon-talks-about-her-blog-happy-with-hospital-birth">here</a> or download it <a href="itpc://www.blogtalkradio.com/birth-stories-on-demand.rss">here</a> on iTunes. No making fun of our Upper Midwest accents allowed!Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-17633368417816824832012-06-28T11:53:00.001-07:002012-06-28T11:55:39.769-07:00Baby Evan's birth by C-section<span style="background-color: white;">Michelle shares her son's birth story:</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ll start at my doctor appt on April 22 (36w4d). My blood
pressure was suddenly much higher than it had been, which seemed to be the
start of mild pre-eclampsia (which I also had with my first baby, Miranda, who
was 3 ½ when her brother was born). The
next day was spent getting a NST at the hospital birth center, and letting
everyone know that I was officially out of commission — on bed rest. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Surprisingly, bed rest at this point in pregnancy was not a
bad thing. It certainly beat going to work, which had gotten progressively more
difficult as I had gotten bigger, more sore and more tired. Miranda was in
school three days a week, and a friend was kind enough to watch her the other
two days. My blood pressure continued to swing wildly, so my <st1:place w:st="on">OB</st1:place>,
Dr. C., decided to move my C-section date to May 4, when I would be 38 weeks. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had been induced with my first baby (due to pre-eclampsia)
and ended up with an emergency C-section when baby Miranda did not tolerate
labor well. My <st1:place w:st="on">OB</st1:place> and hospital were supportive
of VBACs for women who wanted them, but due to the possibility of needing an
induction again, and my fear of the risks of VBAC, I had chosen to have a
repeat C-section. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
During my weeks of bed rest, I went to the doctor’s office a
couple of times for NSTs, and got several blood draws to check various things
related to liver function, or whatever else they worry about with pre-e.
Fortunately, my NSTs were perfect, which was quite a relief. All blood tests
were normal as well. It was just my BP and some minor swelling that were
concerning.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As the delivery got closer, I started to feel more uneasy. I
had a great doctor’s appt and NST on Friday, April 30, which put my mind at
ease. But that evening, I was getting ready for bed and my husband, Reid,
suggested I check my BP again. I was feeling pretty good, so I wasn’t expecting
anything out of the ordinary. But it was 158/113. Yikes. A phone call to the on-call
doc (Dr. P., sounded kind of grumpy at 11:30 at night), and I was told I needed
to go in to the hospital to be monitored.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We had a bit of a dilemma — Miranda was sound asleep, my
parents hadn’t arrived yet, and asking anyone to come and stay at our house
would mean waking them up, disruption, etc. So I decided to leave my Reid at
home and go in by myself. Of course at that time of night, I had to go in
through the ER entrance. That got great reaction, both from staff and patients.
I told everyone I was NOT having a baby that night, but they didn’t seem to
believe me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I got to the FBC and all the nurses expressed surprise that
I had come by myself. I explained why (sleeping 3-year-old) and met my nurse,
Cindy, who was very kind and had a lot of energy. Seems like good qualities in
a nurse on the night shift. BP was still high, but lower than it had been at
home. I had yet another NST and blood draw and both were perfect. So, at Dr.
P.’s instruction, I just hung out for a few hours and watched my BP go down. It
eventually got nice and low — not quite healthy, but low enough to be
considered “normal.” During all of this,
I watched my contractions on the monitor — strong and regular, as they had been
for a couple months, but still not causing labor. I drove myself home around 2
a.m.. Cindy told me she would see me Tuesday night after my C-section, since
she would be working that night.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The rest of the weekend was fairly uneventful. My parents
arrived, I stayed in bed and checked my BP. Miranda liked having extra adults
around to pay attention to her. Monday was the day before the scheduled
C-section, and I cheated on my bed rest a little bit to get my hair cut. Nice
haircut, but I felt fat, hot and dumpy at the salon, and I had to pee the whole
time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Monday evening, Reid and I went out to dinner (more bed-rest
rule breaking — I checked my BP first, of course). Over pasta, we ironed out
our final name choice — both first and middle names. I was not very hungry, and
it was at that point that I realized I was getting nervous. We went home and
puttered around — packing up our hospital bags, taking a couple of last
pictures of the belly, putting Miranda to bed, etc. Despite an early wake-up
time (4:15 so we could be at the hospital by 5:30), we went to bed fairly late.
Reid snored, I tossed and turned, and neither of us slept much.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We were tired and weary the next morning, but made it to the
hospital on time. The nurses quickly started getting me prepped for the
surgery. An IV was placed (easy — this was my biggest fear when Miranda was
born, and it turns out to not be a big deal), and I changed into a lovely gown
with no back, and was hooked up for another NST. In contrast to all the
non-eventful NSTs I had been having for the past few weeks, the baby was not
responding well. It took a long time before they saw what they wanted to see
from his heart rate/reactivity. I just thought, “Hmmm … good thing we’re
getting him out today!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was very anxious to meet the anesthesiologist. I had found
out during Miranda’s C-section that this person has the most visible and active
role (at least from my point of view) during the surgery. And yet, like most
surgeries, you have no idea who the anesthesiologist will be ahead of time, nor
do you get to meet them. I had a neat typed list of questions for this mystery
doctor. Eventually, Dr. W. bustled in at about 7:15 (surgery scheduled for
7:30). The only way I could describe him is as a “dude.” He was loud and
boisterous, muscle bound, called me “kiddo.” He kind of blew off the questions,
and I was a little irritated. He unhooked the IV bags from the pole, and said
it was time to go down to the OR. I guess I hopped out of the bed and flew out
of the room pretty quickly, because he had to hustle to keep up. “You’re nine
months pregnant and faster than I am!” I realize that at this point maybe most
women turn to say goodbye to their husband, or get teary or something. Well, I
just really wanted to get this show on the road. I was a little bit tired of
being pregnant, and really ready to meet this baby.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The OR was freezing. It was odd to me that I just walked
down there and climbed up on the table by myself. No one knew where Dr. C. (my <st1:place w:st="on">OB</st1:place>) was. Dr. W. was pretty adamant about finding Dr. C.
before placing the spinal anesthesia, which I appreciated, and that helped make
up for a few “kiddos” in my mind. Dr. C. finally showed up (he had been on call
all night — this made me a little nervous) and introduced me to the assisting <st1:place w:st="on">OB</st1:place>, Dr. M (“This is the guy who will push your baby out
for you”). That sounded okay to me, how often do we get to make men do the
pushing?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I rested my head on the shoulder of a nice nurse while Dr.
W. did the spinal. It did not hurt much at all. I lay down and waited to become
numb while they started draping and prepping. Unfortunately, a few minutes
later I could still feel everything that was going on (including catheter
placement — yuck). So we waited some more. They continued to prep. I got
nervous, and told them what I could feel — my legs, that contraction, the baby
moving, them washing my belly, etc. Dr. C. did a pinch test, and I felt each
one. So they had me sit up and Dr. W. did another spinal injection. Again, it
didn’t hurt, but I was really getting nervous at this point. I knew they
wouldn’t do the surgery without me numb, but I was worried they would say I
needed general anesthesia. Luckily, whatever he did the second time seemed to
take, and I did not feel the pinch tests.
Nor did I feel when they actually started the surgery, which was before
Reid was even in the room. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu2D1wLKksiXUCBLVOcnW0Wd9w5sqX1DdOSp2siCHKCZQuaDZLDRyBGVoFqeUUguspv1VKUbRmD3Cy1hYowxitxUW9h7GzLwC1jrJsLz3nM7oIfGVqZH2qJbDpd89X9v7WHDOBwVPRl9Bx/s1600/861160148_gmHC7-L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu2D1wLKksiXUCBLVOcnW0Wd9w5sqX1DdOSp2siCHKCZQuaDZLDRyBGVoFqeUUguspv1VKUbRmD3Cy1hYowxitxUW9h7GzLwC1jrJsLz3nM7oIfGVqZH2qJbDpd89X9v7WHDOBwVPRl9Bx/s320/861160148_gmHC7-L.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Reid joined us mid-surgery, and everything went really
quickly from that point forward. Dr. M. pushed the baby out (it felt like he
was standing on my chest), and Dr. C. announced a healthy baby boy. A moment
later I heard the baby cry, at which point I started crying and fogged up my
glasses. Reid went over to the warming table to be with the baby. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Despite his “dude” demeanor, Dr. W., the anesthesiologist,
turned out to be very gentle and attentive throughout the surgery — patient and
reassuring as he started (and restarted) the spinal, sitting next to my head
during the surgery, wiping my glasses when they fogged up, checking if I was
warm enough, asking how I was feeling, smiling reassuringly, etc. All this on
top of the more demanding and important job of making sure I was healthy and
safe during the surgery. For surgery with a conscious patient, it’s like the
anesthesiologist is the patient’s own ambassador and advocate — a really
amazing role, and vital to my positive experience and comfort. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dr. C. mentioned that it was a good thing I was having a
C-section, and that we had done it that day instead of waiting a week — there
was meconium in the water, the cord was around baby’s neck twice, and was
between baby’s head and the cervix. I was a little nervous hearing about the
meconium, but could hear the baby crying vigorously. He was quickly wrapped up
and brought over to me. I got my arms free so that I could “hold” him with
Reid’s support. His face was scrunched up in a grimace, eyes closed tightly. I
peeked under his hat and saw lots of hair. Reid, Evan and I posed for a picture
by one of the nurses. A nurse then gently suggested that Reid take the baby
back to our room since the OR was so cold. I was sad about this, since I
thought I would get to stay with Evan the whole time, but it was really cold in
that room.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They left, and to my surprise, the surgery was completely
finished about 10 minutes later, and I was ready to be wheeled back to my room.
Once in my room, I was given Evan to hold almost immediately. I held him
skin-to-skin under my gown, and we were piled with blankets since he was a
little cold. I think nurses were fiddling around with me, but I was not really
paying attention, I was just focused on my new little one. We tried nursing,
and he latched on pretty quickly. He opened his eyes briefly, but mostly kept
them tightly closed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The spinal wore off after about an hour, and I was starting
to be in pain. I was a little perturbed, since I had hoped to avoid IV
narcotics. During recovery from Miranda’s birth, I had felt very sick and
out-of-it, and had concluded that whatever was in my IV had caused that
feeling. But when the pain started interfering with my ability to focus on
Evan, I asked for the drugs. Thankfully, the morphine did help the pain, and
didn’t make me feel too sleepy or loopy, and I was able to focus on Evan again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a bit, he needed to be weighed, bathed and given his
vitamin K and eye ointment. They did this all in our room. I knew he was a
little peanut — 6 lbs. 13 oz. It was nice that he did not cry for the vitamin K
shot, and he liked his bath in the sink of warm, soapy water. I loved getting
to watch the bath, since that was something I missed when Miranda was born. He
was quickly back in my arms and stayed there for the rest of the day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The day was a blur, but happy and cozy. Evan napped, I
napped, we nursed. The nurses removed
various gadgets (BP cuff, IV, etc.) throughout the day and I started eating
real food. I was hungry almost immediately after the surgery, but they
encouraged me to go slowly (jello, Saltines, and such). I finally got a smoothie and a bowl of soup
that evening and it tasted awesome. It was so incredible to eat without the
nausea that had plagued me for the past nine months. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Miranda and my parents came by that evening to meet Evan.
Miranda was a little bit unsettled, and understandably was much more interested
in me than in her new little brother. We shared a packet of graham crackers,
which delighted her. She still talks about that. “Remember when I came to visit
you at the hospital and you shared your snack with me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My milk came in the second night (less than 48 hours after
birth), which is nice and early for a C-section. Evan and I were lying in my
bed together, both of us on our sides while he nursed. I realized that I heard
him swallowing, which was new, so I knew he was getting milk. He slept for
several hours after that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisXikbAN48qqBz4KCSHDYGRyupsgd5mSaNoeRU9I3NlzW_SyEUxtTYfq4W_YeNbyVTSMCORpYVjc92uh3Mi777hboz4UuCeo55C20YFfOs_fY9OZn4KU-FzSP82Jby2swVjsNt6iCwtFYb/s1600/861188390_Ja5Lx-L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisXikbAN48qqBz4KCSHDYGRyupsgd5mSaNoeRU9I3NlzW_SyEUxtTYfq4W_YeNbyVTSMCORpYVjc92uh3Mi777hboz4UuCeo55C20YFfOs_fY9OZn4KU-FzSP82Jby2swVjsNt6iCwtFYb/s320/861188390_Ja5Lx-L.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The rest of the hospital stay was relaxing and uneventful. I
was having a great time resting, ordering good food from room service and
getting to know Evan. I felt so good
that I spent nearly all my time holding, nursing and caring for Evan, and Reid
started to get bored. He asked, “When do I get to hold the baby?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I still look back very, very fondly on those peaceful,
magical first days. Evan, Reid and I were in our own little world and waited on
hand and foot by the caring, attentive nurses. Every morning, Evan’s
pediatrician would show up and exclaim over what a perfect baby he was. I felt
great, and by the day after surgery I was moving around easily. We left the
hospital on Friday morning, three full days after my C-section on Tuesday
morning.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-6173633851141601672012-05-28T17:40:00.000-07:002012-05-28T17:41:06.866-07:00Baby Cary's birth<br />
<div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Emily shares her birth story:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">When I found out I was
pregnant, I hadn’t been to an OB/GYN in years. Since I was a child, I have
despised going to the doctor because of the chance that I might have to remove
some or all of my clothing. I wasn’t raised to be ashamed of my body – I am just
naturally extremely modest. So I was delighted to be pregnant, but not excited
about going to the doctor and having to get undressed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Around the time of my
first <st1:place w:st="on">OB</st1:place> appointment, a pregnant friend of
mine started posting articles on Facebook about the terrors of hospital birth. According
to her information, I would be strapped to a gurney in the manner of a
horizontal crucifixion, paralyzed by pain medicine from the waist down, forced
to labor nude in front of 100 strangers, with the doctor and nurses taking
turns violating my body with various unnecessary instruments and machines. If
by some miracle I got out of there alive with my baby, we wouldn’t be able to
bond or breastfeed because of the trauma, and he would grow up to be a
psychopath incapable of making eye contact. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Needless to say, I was
terrified by these posts (from a heretofore reasonable friend) and spent many
hours agonizing and crying over my decision to have my baby in the hospital. Being
a total birth novice, and having no way to authenticate my friend’s claims
about the hospital, I was sadly resigned to my fate but felt it was the only
way to be sure that we weren’t too far from help if a true emergency arose. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">My son’s birth
couldn’t have been more different than what had been portrayed as a typical
hospital birth. Six days after his due date, I started feeling strong
contractions around 11:30 p.m. My husband (a scientist) tracked them on a
spreadsheet. They were one minute long and 7-8 minutes apart until around 2
a.m, when they picked up to 3-5 minutes apart. I rocked and breathed through
them, and didn’t scream, to my surprise. We were having a hard time determining
when to leave for the hospital, because I thought we were supposed to wait
until the contractions were 3 minutes apart consistently for an hour. For some
reason, I would have a whole bunch of regular contractions, and then there
would be a big gap of about 8 minutes. I figured this meant it wasn’t time to
go yet. Suddenly around 5 a.m., the contractions accelerated to 1-3 minutes
apart. At this point, I had vomited enough from the pain where I figured I had
no fluid left in me to vomit in the car, so it was safe to leave. I really
didn’t want to have to take baby home in a vomit car. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">We got to the hospital
around 5:45 a.m. After walking around for 10 minutes and becoming lost, I sat on
the floor and told my husband to go find the right area, and come back for me. We
made it to the labor and delivery intake a short time later, and after
determining that my pre-registration information had been lost, I had to take
off my clothes and get checked out. YAAA! Pain! I was dilated to a 6. Several
nurses asked if I was having a natural birth because I had apparently waited a
long time to come in. They got me ready to move to the delivery room, and kept
fussing about my gown, making sure it covered everything for the trip down the
hall. At that point I couldn’t have cared less if I had to somersault nude to
the delivery room on broadcast television…I wanted that epidural. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Tracy, my delivery
nurse, was so nice! Because of all the heavy breathing through the
contractions, my mouth was dry as a desert and my tongue was sticking to the
roof of my mouth. I kept asking politely for ice chips, but no one was responding.
When <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Tracy</st1:place></st1:city> came
in, I asked her and she directed someone to bring me ice. It was the best ice
I’d ever tasted. She did another check and determined I was 8-9 centimeters
dilated. I was starting to be afraid that I wouldn’t have time for the epidural,
and silently cursed myself for not leaving earlier. The fetal heart rate
monitor was attached, and I had an IV in my arm (I asked the nurse not to put
it in my hand because I am a pianist and I’m sensitive about my hands – this
wasn’t a problem for the nurse at all). Neither the monitor nor the IV was
obtrusive at all, and I loved listening to baby’s heartbeat. Once the monitor was
attached, I couldn’t imagine how nervous I would be not knowing if the baby was
alive and kicking through the stress of labor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Finally the
anesthesiologist arrived, and after asking a lot of questions, he was able to
place the epidural while <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Tracy</st1:place></st1:city>
held my hands. I don’t remember feeling any pain when the epidural was
administered. About 5 minutes later, I felt a contraction that was about
one-tenth of the strength of previous contractions, if that. The
anesthesiologist became my new best friend. I started shivering uncontrollably
(side effect of the epidural?), so <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Tracy</st1:place></st1:city>
brought over a bunch of warm blankets and piled them on me. My <st1:place w:st="on">OB</st1:place> arrived and checked me. This time I was quite relaxed!
She said I was at a 9 or a 10, and she would let me get some much-needed rest,
and check on me later. I took a 10 minute nap, and then my husband and I called
family and friends to let them know the baby was on his way. I felt so relaxed
and stress-free after the epidural kicked in. That break was just what I needed
to gather my strength to continue laboring after a sleepless night of
contractions. I felt totally at ease, and was able to enjoy and reflect upon
the experience and marvel at what was to come. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">The doctor returned
about an hour later and decided to break my water to move things along. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Tracy</st1:place></st1:city> helped me turn on
my side so that the baby could get into a better position and move past my
pubic bone (not 100% sure of the medical details here). I spent the next couple
of hours relaxing, eating ice, and talking to my husband. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Tracy</st1:place></st1:city> popped in and out to check on me and
the baby. Around 11 a.m., it was time to start pushing, so she turned off my
epidural. She helped me into a reclined seated position and showed me how to
use my arms to brace myself. She and my husband each took a leg (which I could
move just fine) and used their bodies to provide leverage for me to push
against. Pushing was going rather slowly despite the epidural wearing off and
the pain coming back, so I asked for a mirror to see my progress. After a few
more pushes, I could see a spot emerging which was the size of a half dollar –
the top of the baby’s head!</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">My <st1:place w:st="on">OB</st1:place> came in to
deliver my son. I was feeling the pain quite a bit and it was causing me to
hold back the urge I felt to push, so I asked for the epidural to be turned
back on. Once the epidural returned to near-full strength, I wasn’t scared to
push harder. I could see the baby crowning in the mirror, and I could feel that
I was going to tear, so I asked my <st1:place w:st="on">OB</st1:place> to do a
small episiotomy so that I wouldn’t have to see my perineum explode. She did
this for me even though she thought I wouldn’t tear too badly. Since I could
feel the size of the baby coming out, I disagreed! One huge push later, and the
baby’s head was delivered. My husband said he had his eyes open and was looking
around! My <st1:place w:st="on">OB</st1:place> caught the awed look on my face
and said “I know, right!”</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">She asked me for one more push, and two seconds later
my baby was on my chest. He was amazing! <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Tracy</st1:place></st1:city>
saw how large he was (9 lbs, 8 oz), and said, “No wonder it took so long!” I
thought an hour of pushing was not too bad, actually! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">After a few minutes
together, my husband cut the cord and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Tracy</st1:place></st1:city>
took the baby to a little warm table to be cleaned up and checked out, while my
husband took pictures. My <st1:place w:st="on">OB</st1:place> delivered the
placenta and stitched me up. I had torn a bit to the side in addition to the
episiotomy, but nothing major. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Tracy</st1:place></st1:city>
brought the baby back to me and we breastfed right in the delivery room. We are
still breastfeeding two months later, and our little family has bonded like you
wouldn’t believe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Thankfully, it turned out that my friend’s
“insider knowledge” was a bunch of lies and exaggerations. I loved my hospital
birth. It was one of the best days of my life!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-80062111035400457832012-04-28T17:44:00.000-07:002012-04-28T17:44:40.725-07:00Eris' hospital birth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Alex shares her story (and a darling video!) from her daughter Eris' birth:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I had the textbook-perfect pregnancy, from the winter solstice to the autumnal equinox, despite having polycystic kidney disease. I was extremely physically active throughout, including taking a Dancing For Birth prenatal class. Since I was Group-B Strep positive, I was instructed by my Family Physician to call as soon as my water broke, which it did with an audible popping sound at 1:40am in the morning on my due date. After calling my doctor to describe the orange fluid leak, I woke my husband at about three in the morning to head to Swedish First Hill hospital in Seattle, Washington state, USA. After we checked into triage, more amniotic fluid gushed out in their bathroom, causing me to be responsible for closure of their bathroom for bio-hazard clean up for the rest of the night. </span><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Mn-9mPzo-E0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I napped between mild contractions until 7:33am in the morning, when I was checked and my cervix was found to be 3-4 centimeters dilated and 70% effaced already, qualifying me for a Birth Suite! At this point, the nurses asked me to rate my pain on a scale from one to ten, where ten was the worst pain I'd ever experienced. I was sorta sore from the internal exam, so I said three or four. They said, "So, five or six?" My husband and I laughed. My doctor told me to walk around for two hours, which I did, and by the time I was checked again in the Birth Suite at 11:10am in the morning, I was 4 centimeters dilated and 100% effaced with the baby at 0 station. They asked me about my pain again, and I was doing fine as long as I wasn't laying around, so they just intermittently monitored my daughter's hear rate with a hand-held monitor. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I danced during contractions, later retreating to rocking in a rocking chair between them. The port on my hand for my occasional IV antibiotics was not restrictive in the least. My doula arrived on the scene and pampered me with back-rubs and cups of tea for the rest of my labour. As the endorphins kicked in, the world seemed surreal, and reality melted away, but not in a bad way; more like in a "Yellow Submarine" sort of way! By 2:09pm in the afternoon, I was 6 centimeters dilated after sitting in the rocking chair listening to movies, and my doctor recommended the jacuzzi tub, which slowed contractions but made them far more productive! At 3:29pm in the afternoon, my uterus simply started pushing on its own. My doula whispered softly that she was going to tell my doctor I was having the "urge to push" and that I would then be surrounded by a lot of people and noise and to just stay inside myself. I was surprised to be found to be 10 centimeters dilated, since I was expecting the feeling of "giving up" or wanting pain medications that was described during transition in all the books I'd read. Those thoughts had never crossed my mind, and I remained relaxed and in great spirits.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">They put up a support bar over the bed so that I could squat and push. My doctor donned booties and joked that she always regretted it when she didn't. Foreshadowing of the splashy event about to take place! At a potty break to reduce the physical barrier of my full bladder, my external intermittent fetal monitoring briefly registered a heart deceleration, which frightened me, but switching to a hands-and-knees position solved it. The two and a half hours of pushing really didn't hurt until the last minute, and felt good, albeit tiring! Strangely, I did decide to yell during this stage, despite the great reduction in pain, sort of like a war-cry! My husband dozed in spite of it all.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">In between contractions, I shouted for somebody to order me some oatmeal, which I ate after the birth. At 6:32pm, all 6 pounds and 13 ounces of her shot out like a baby horse! She was 19.5 inches long. My first words to her were, "Hi. I built you. I guess that makes me your mom." Then, my husband said something like, "I think we'll keep her" and I looked up at him with tears in my eyes and said, "I'm so relieved that I love her!" </span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Unfortunately, she had swallowed a bit of meconium, and I had significant tearing that needed some stitches, but we recovered quickly and we still got out of there after our standard 24-hour watch period. My daughter also punched a nurse right in the face during her first bath!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">My hospital experience was terrific, and I look forward to another great hospital birth of my son, Orion, coming this May! It is funny because during the last labour's potty break described above, my doctor told me, "We should do this again sometime!" Sure enough, we will! </span>Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-20283578693323933712012-04-04T18:53:00.000-07:002012-07-01T15:56:36.435-07:00Hey, check it out!We were featured on Frugal Dad's <a href="http://frugaldad.com/top-newborn-baby-blogs/">Top Parenting Blogs</a>! Thanks, Frugal Dad!<br />
<br />
(Sorry I haven't been updating more frequently -- <a href="http://hospitalbirth.blogspot.com/2011/08/for-our-inaugural-post-my-daughter.html">Miss Natalie</a> has been crawling for a few months now, and is THE biggest troublemaker! I'm getting quite a backlog of stories, so I'm hoping to get some up here soon.)Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-66904955309114604762012-03-02T15:44:00.000-08:002012-03-02T15:50:16.555-08:00Baby Blair's happy hospital birthChelsea shares her daughter Blair's birth story:
<P>
I would like to tell a little about my daughter Blair's hospital birth. The hospital staff was just fantastic, and I cannot thank them enough. I hope this story will help dispel the lies that all hospital births are horrible and traumatic.
<P>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi84PkybXOVwyqVkjn5danwMQU8zCJn0orEjR3Hi8yX7LBANhWlJv-bH-ZDptOxyt0EP1a5yLZs5U5tK7NOKNV2X6l-mXNi_eol-koH3xZYatrlyO1lPbmVKCF1fs2Pp0cLUXOyt7bvf6Pa/s1600/thebaby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi84PkybXOVwyqVkjn5danwMQU8zCJn0orEjR3Hi8yX7LBANhWlJv-bH-ZDptOxyt0EP1a5yLZs5U5tK7NOKNV2X6l-mXNi_eol-koH3xZYatrlyO1lPbmVKCF1fs2Pp0cLUXOyt7bvf6Pa/s320/thebaby.jpg" /></a></div>
I am a first-time mother. Like any parent, I was nervous and excited when my boyfriend and I found out we were having a baby. We chose an Ob-Gyn recommended by a neighbor. The office staff truly made me feel welcome and at ease, and my doctor was so warm, caring and helpful the whole way through. When I was about 24 weeks along, we took a tour of one of the two hospitals in town. I fell in love with the tour leader -- she reminded me at once of my grandmother and my kindergarten teacher. We saw how clean, secure, calm and quiet the maternity ward was. I liked that mothers were guaranteed private rooms.
<P>
My boyfriend and I went home to work on a birth plan. I like the idea of a birth plan, because it allows you to express how and what you think will happen, and what you think you might like or not like, and your doctor can offer imput and suggestions. I knew I did not want an episiotomy, and my doctor assured me she rarely, rarely performed them. She informed me I was positive for Group B strep, so I would need to arrive early at the hospital so that I could receive IV antibiotics. (Funny thing, I was actually more scared of the needle than the pain of childbirth!) As far as pain management, I wanted to try without any, but I told myself I wouldnt feel guilty if the pain was too much and I decided I needed them.
<P>
Months later, once my contractions were 5 minutes apart, we drove to the hospital. The admitting nurse was very friendly and helpful. Of course, with Blair being my first baby, labor took a while. We arrived around midnight, and Blair was born at 8:45 that night. So, I went through several nurses and both of my on-call OB's. (The delivering doctor ended up being an affiliate of my OB's. She was also just wonderfully helpful.) The staff were all immensely caring and helpful, I really felt cared for. Everyone made an effort to answer my questions, address my concerns, explain what was going on.
<P>
I really could not have asked for better care or people to help me give birth. There were no complications for me or for Blair. I am so grateful to the entire maternity ward staff! One especially wonderful staff member was the lactation consultant, the lady who had given us the tour earlier.Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-58506527219991967112012-02-24T15:00:00.000-08:002012-02-24T15:00:11.961-08:00Lisa's baby stories<b>Birth story one</b>
<P>
It was January 26th, and I was 9 days past due. My OB had scheduled an induction to be started the following morning, so in addition to being tired of the pregnancy, I was worried about being induced. I very much wanted to have a natural birth, and was afraid I wouldn’t be able to accomplish this if I had the induction. For a week I’d been trying everything I could think of to bring on labor, except eating spicy foods since I have a huge aversion to them. It was four in the afternoon, and my husband was heading out to his evening classes. We had just tried one of the more…intimate ways of bringing on labor, and I was having some mild contractions, but I figured they wouldn’t last since I'd been having them on and off for a week, and they always went away after an hour or less. So off to class my dear hubby went, and I promised to call if things picked up and became regular.
<P>
When around 5:30 the contractions had not yet gone away, and seemed to be fairly regular, I started timing them. They were 10 minutes apart and lasted about 20 seconds or so. Nothing to get excited over, but excited I got since this was the most that had happened in weeks. I had a snack and watched some TV trying to distract myself so I wouldn’t get my hopes up to high if this didn’t turn into real labor. I timed them again at 7, and they were 7 minutes apart, lasting 35-40 seconds. Now I did get excited. But I didn’t want to call my husband yet, just in case. Besides, they weren’t close enough to go to the hospital. I double checked that my bag had everything I wanted/needed in it. I spent about an hour fiddling with baby clothes and planning what I would put my baby in for his first pictures. At 8:30 I timed my contractions again, and they were 5-6 minutes apart lasting a solid 40-45 seconds. So I called my husband. He got home about 9 pm, and was raring to go to the hospital. We timed my contractions again, and they were still about the same as before, so I said we’d wait. He spent the next hour and a half timing my contractions, and asking me if I was ready to go yet. He was so anxious. At 10:30 they were a little less than 5 minutes apart, still lasting about 40 seconds. Off to the hospital we went.
<P>
The hospital wasn’t far, and there was no traffic since it was late at night. But in the span of that short car trip my contractions actually slowed down. When we checked in they were back to being almost 7 minutes apart, lasting only 30 seconds or so. Luckily, I was dilated 4 centimeters, 100% effaced, so they let me stay. I would’ve been really bummed if they had sent me home, which I was afraid they would do considering how much my contractions had weakened. It was a little after 11:00, and I’d now been in early labor for about seven hours.
<P>
The hospital was great about my desire to maintain mobility during labor. They put in a Hep-lock so I wouldn’t have to be attached to an IV, and they put it about midway up my forearm so that it wouldn’t interfere with my ability to use my wrist or elbow joints. They told me that since I was still fairly early in labor, they would wait until I thought things were really picking up before they did another cervical check, and attached the monitors. After that, they wanted to attach monitors once every hour or so for about 15 minutes, so that I wouldn’t have to be continuously monitored. I spent most of the next couple hours walking back and forth in my room.
<P>
Sometime after one in the morning, maybe closer to two, I got really nauseous very suddenly, and threw up everywhere. I was also beginning to feel pretty miserable in general, and decided I was going to lie down. They hooked up the monitors, and checked my dilation. I was 7 centimeters, and I think they said contractions were about 3 minutes apart, lasting for about a minute. After monitoring the baby and I for a little bit, they removed the monitors so I could move about as I liked, but I did not want to get up again. At this point, I remember there was a wonderful nurse who would sit with me for a while and help me through contractions. She didn’t stay in the room all the time, but when she came in she would stay for several contractions, and talk me through them. My husband spent most of the remainder of the labor alternating between pacing, and asking me if he could do anything for me. I remember he also had a wet washcloth that he would hold to the back of my neck or wipe my face with when I asked. I remember being really hot, and not wanting the sheets on my bed anymore. At some point, they had hooked me up to continuous monitoring. They gave me an oxygen mask, which I didn’t want to use. I think they gave it to me because of the baby’s heart rate, but I’m not sure. I also remember that the thing they put on my finger to monitor my pulse was for some reason seriously getting on my nerves. At some point, after asking the nurses several times if I could take it off, I just removed it myself and told them I wasn’t wearing it anymore. They didn't make a big deal out of it. The nurse just put up her hands in a sort of placating way and said, "OK, sweetie, that's fine." I think that was around the time I was dilated 8-9 centimeters. Somewhere in all of this they broke my water, since it hadn’t yet broken on its own.
<P>
I spent a lot of time thrashing about in the bed trying to find a comfortable position, and I didn’t want to get up. I was crying because it hurt so much, but I dozed in between some of the contractions, that’s how tired I was. Finally, I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore, and asked for pain medication. I had been at 9 centimeters the last 3 times they checked, and I was frustrated and tired. They called the anesthesiologist, and then that wonderful nurse came back in. She told me I needed to get up from the bed and go pee, which I didn’t want to do, but between her and my husband they got me to do. Then she had me stay standing leaning against my husband while she changed the pads that were on the bed. Finally, when I got back in the bed, she said, “Let me just check you one last time, dear, before the anesthesiologist gets here.” Lo and behold, I was at 10cm. I think I laughed I was so happy. She cancelled the anesthesiologist, and a few minutes later, I felt like pushing.
<P>
They say I only pushed for 20 minutes before my baby was born. I remember that during the pushing stage, the contractions didn’t hurt. My husband helped support me sitting up in the bed, and he rubbed my shoulders in between contractions. I vaguely remember the “ring of fire”, but it didn’t last long, nor did it hurt nearly as badly as I’d been told it would. I remember the awe in my husband’s voice when he said, “I can see his head.” What I remember most is the doctor telling me to reach down and grab my baby, as he guided my hands under my son's arms, and allowed me to pull him the rest of the way out and onto my chest with the final push. I remember my son’s eyes locking with mine as I greeted him, and those few seconds of silence and recognition before he resumed his cries.
<P>
My beautiful boy was born January 27th, 2010, at 6:37am, 8 pounds, 1 ounce.
<P>
<b>Birth story two
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So I was 10 days past due, again, and still no baby. I went to bed cranky and uncomfortable. With my first, I went into labor at 9 days past due, and he was born at 10 days past due. I’d been having pro-dromal labor on and off for days, but so far no real labor. At my appointment four days prior, I was 4 centimeters dilated and had really expected to be in labor by now. After all, second babies are supposed to come sooner, right? Not.
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I woke up at 2:30 a.m. needing to use the restroom. When I got up from the toilet, I felt my water break. Yay! I was having contractions, but they didn’t feel any different from the false-start contractions I’d been having, so I waited. They started becoming regular around 3:30 or so. This is when I woke my husband up. We took our time getting ready. I made sure I had everything ready to go for my toddler when he woke up so it would be easy for my dad to take care of him. We were about to head out at 4 a.m. when my boy woke up crying. I laid back down in bed with him to try to get him to go back to sleep. It difficult at that point to lie next to him through a contraction without him knowing something was different. But I did it, since I didn’t want to scare him.
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At 4:45 we finally headed to the hospital. By now my contractions were 3 minutes apart, and really hurting. The hospital is typically a 45-minute drive over the mountain, but there was no traffic, and hubby sped a little. We arrived just after 5 and were checked in to L&D at 5:20 a.m. They hooked me up to the monitors for 20 minutes, put in a Hep Lock. Hubby fetched me some ice water to sip on in between contractions. They checked me, and I was 6 centimeters. After 20 minutes, they took me off the monitors and told me I could walk around if I wanted. I had originally planned on laboring in the tub for a while, but at this point it just seemed like too much trouble. I didn’t even want to get out of the bed really. I don’t know how far apart the contractions were or how long they were lasting at this point. I was no longer paying attention to the clock.
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I got out of the bed anyway since usually that helps speed things along. Hubby was basically holding me up during contractions. At some point, the midwife (CNM) arrived. She suggested squatting during contractions, but I couldn’t. It hurt too much, and my legs were shaking just trying to stay standing. Shortly after this, I wanted to get back in the bed. Hubby says it was just after 6 at this point. I was feeling a lot of pressure, so the midwife checked me and said I was at 9 centimenters. I started crying. I was upset because I’d gotten stuck at 9 centimeters for almost an hour last time, and I was immediately anticipating the same thing happening this time. Hubby was holding me, and telling me, “It’s ok, you’re doing great, that’s 3 centimeters in an hour, etc.” The next contraction came, and I told the midwife I had to push. She asked me to try not to, but I couldn’t help it, so she checked me again. She said I had just a little lip of a cervix left, but that I could go ahead and push past it.
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I only pushed for about 10 minutes total. I started out pushing on my side, but then things got scary. First of all, this was completely different from my first in that the pushing stage hurt, a lot. With my first I stopped really feeling the contractions while I was pushing. This time was the opposite. The contractions hurt worse. I heard the midwife say, “He’s stuck, go get the on-call doc, now.” A nurse ran out of the room, and I think a couple more came in. Apparently we had a shoulder dystocia. They had me turn on my back. One nurse was doing compressions on my abdomen just above my pubic bone, kinda like CPR. That hurt like hell. It hurt more than the contractions and pushing. Another nurse was helping my hubby push my legs back during contractions. Whatever they did worked. He wasn’t stuck for long. I was told less than a minute.
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As soon as he came out they rushed him over to the little warming table and gave him some oxygen. Apparently oxygen deprivation can be an issue with a dystocia. So I wasn’t able to hold him immediately like I was with my first. But everything was fine. He didn’t suffer any complications. Once they were sure he was ok, they handed him to me so I could hold and nurse him. They had to cut the cord quickly to get him to the table with the oxygen, but they still handed my husband the scissors to cut it down further once it was clamped. I thought that was nice. Everyone left the room for a while to give my family some privacy. We spent over an hour bonding before they took him to weigh him and clean him up.
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And so, my second son was born at 6:29am Sept. 20, 2011, 9 pounds, 4 ounces, after just over an hour in the hospital.Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-32620167249527029962011-12-01T11:47:00.001-08:002011-12-01T11:52:41.029-08:00Elizabeth's emergency C-sectionElizabeth shares her daughter Vivian's birth by C-section:
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I had a rather nightmarish time in labor and delivery with my first pregnancy. Practically the first thing that happened to me when I checked into the hospital was that an anesthesiologist made me sit down so he could run me through the informed consent forms for epidural anesthesia (which I was pretty sure I didn't want when everything started). After the forty-five minutes of sitting, listening, and pausing for contractions that it took to get through those, I had had enough. I asked for the epidural, and it was the greatest thing going until I started pushing, when it developed a window that couldn't be closed, no matter what we tried. I pushed for five hours, running a fever and convulsing through contractions when I tried to rest, before the OB got out the vacuum equipment and we managed to deliver my son. And then I hemorrhaged, and needed stitches. I was immensely grateful to the OBs and nurses who were so patient with my prolonged pushing stage, as I was terrified to have a c-section, but when my husband and I decided to have a second child, I informed him that I'd prefer a homebirth, and began researching midwives. The day I got a positive pregnancy test, I started making calls.
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Two days after that, I stopped. I had spoken to three midwives. One turned out to be a hundred miles from us. One was planning a vacation for around my due date. The third was available, and kindly advised me to avoid crossing my legs for the remainder of my pregnancy, and be sure to keep my knees below the level of my pelvis at all times to prevent the baby from turning breech. With no good alternatives, I scheduled an appointment with my old OB.
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Unfortunately, a week after that appointment I began to miscarry. We'd lost our baby. But six weeks later, when I was pregnant again, it occurred to me that I'd gotten some options back - the nice, local midwife would be available around my new due date! I scheduled an interview, at which I learned that she was not licensed, did not work with an OB as backup, and that the emergency transfer plan if my birth went wrong would be to go to the nearest ER. More research dug up a fourth home birth midwife, a Christian Scientist who would not prescribe or administer Rhogam. I gave up on home birth, and found a hospital-based practice of CNMs instead.
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When I explained my prior delivery, these midwives encouraged me to go for a "healing" natural birth. Pregnancy made me depressed and anxious, but I increasingly found peace and reassurance in the image of the perfect birth in my head. I would deliver this baby calmly and easily, preferably in the jacuzzi tub of one of this hospital's birthing suites. My husband would hold my hands and rub my shoulders while a midwife assured me we were doing beautifully, and the baby would float gently out of my body and into my arms.
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I don't like jacuzzis all that much, and I usually want to get out of the bath before my hands start to wrinkle up. My husband gets nervous and twitchy around hospitals, doctors, and laboring women. The last time I'd been in unmedicated labor, I had cussed through every contraction. But four CNMs and a psychotherapist encouraged me in this fantasy.
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When I was diagnosed with complete placenta previa at my mid-pregnancy ultrasound, they assured me that the condition usually went away, and I could keep planning an unmedicated birth. When I wound up in the ER for bleeding at 26 weeks, they sent me home with instructions about pelvic rest and told me not to worry. I would still have my natural birth. When I came back to the ER for more bleeding at 29 weeks, and was hospitalized for a week, they continued to reassure me. The problem would go away. We didn't need to discuss the possibility of c-section yet. I was home on strict bed rest, but I would still have a natural birth.
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At 32w3d, I felt a gush of warm fluid between my legs, and got out of bed to see if I was bleeding again. When I stood up, more fluid gushed down my leg and splashed on the floor - it was definitely blood. I waddled to the bathroom and got a maxi pad, which overflowed about a minute after I put it on. I woke my husband and told him to call 911.
The next hour or so is kind of blurry. I unlocked the front door. I grabbed a bag. At the 911 dispatcher's instruction, I lay down on my side by the door to wait for the ambulance. It took them twenty minutes to get there, and then we realized that my husband couldn't come with me. He needed to wait for the babysitter who was coming to stay with our son. At the last moment before we headed out, I realized I needed to know where we were going. The hospital I'd planned to deliver at was not the closest appropriate facility, and probably wasn't an appropriate facility at all - when I'd come in with bleeding at 29 weeks, they'd had to transfer me to a hospital with a level III NICU. We agreed that we'd go to that hospital again, and the EMTs helped me into the truck.
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The EMTs didn't seem to have any idea what placenta previa was. They wanted to do a quick pelvic exam to be sure I wasn't having the baby right away, but once they got a good enough look at my pants to realize that they hadn't started out dark red, they decided that their best course of action was to drive.
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I was the last person to realize I was going to have a c-section that night. My husband figured it out while waiting for the sitter. My mother realized it as soon as he called her to say I was bleeding again. The hospital started prepping for it when the EMTs radioed that they were bringing me in. I don't know what I thought would happen at the hospital. That they'd give me a magic shot and hang me up by my ankles? I didn't realize I was having the dreaded c-section until midnight, when a surgeon who I thought looked like Hawkeye Pierce told me that the OR would be ready in a few minutes. (At my six week follow-up, I discovered that the surgeon looking absolutely nothing like Alan Alda. I was shocked.)
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The surgery I'd feared turned out to be an incredibly peaceful experience for me. My husband had a harder time with it, but they didn't hook him up to a drip with morphine. The anesthesiologist was soothing, the nurses were sympathetic, the surgeons tempered their professionalism with the occasional dry joke and just enough small talk that I was confident that nothing was going wrong. At one in the morning (I made it to 32w4d by a hair), we heard our daughter cry for the first time. The nurses cleaned her, and wrapped her in a blanket before bringing her to our side of the blue curtain. My husband held her where I could kiss her cheek for a moment before they took her to the NICU. I sent him with her, and lay back to think about names and be sutured back up. The assisting surgeon told me that she was taking the time to do a double layer of sutures, so I'd have the best possible chance of a VBAC later if I wanted. I was tempted to tell her she could fasten me back up with staples and carpenter's glue for all I cared. I was done having babies (I'm still feeling done).
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My mother was waiting for me in the recovery room, where the anesthesiologist gave me drugs to stop the post-morphine itching. I was wide awake, and I wanted nothing more than to see my daughter. My mom gave me the report from the NICU, and we chatted until I was declared de-drugged enough to move to the post-partum ward. Before we went there, they took my gurney up to the NICU floor, and parked it by my daughter's isolette for a few minutes. My energy was fading, but I was so glad to see her.
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I went home from the hospital four days later, and Vivian spent 32 days in the NICU. She needed three doses of lung surfactant to get through her first day, but was considered a "feeder-grower" by the end of her first week. She's been incredibly healthy ever since. She's now a few days from her second birthday, sweet, smart, and too fast moving to take a picture of. The attached photo is of her first "outing" from her isolette.
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Thank you so much for running your site. It's such a valuable voice and resource for the way that women usually give birth in this country, and a testament to the work of mothers and the medical professionals who aid them through labor.Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-48133018032856594882011-10-06T11:02:00.000-07:002012-05-28T17:44:21.539-07:00Hospital delivery of twins<i>Amy shares her twin sons' birth story:</i><br />
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Here's my story:<br />
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It actually starts out way earlier than the birth---I have PCOS and I'm infertile as a result. Ultimately, my husband and I did IVF to conceive. We didn't want multiples, so we agreed with the RE, to have only one transferred. Imagine everyone's surprise when we saw two at the 7-week ultrasound! So, we knew from then that they were identical, and immediately the fear kicked in. What if I miscarry? What if they are born too early to live? What if they are born too early to live without significant health issues? How would we afford childcare for two at once? <br />
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The pregnancy went along fine until the beginning of the 3rd trimester, when my cervix started funneling/effacing. I was pulled from work, and was home on modified bed rest. At 30 weeks, pre-term labor started for real. I was admitted to the hospital, given nifedipine and hoped for the best. Labor was stopped, but not before I was 2 centimeters dilated. I remained in the hospital and things were stable for two weeks.<br />
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At 32 weeks, another round of pre-term labor. It was stopped again, but then I was dilated to 4 centimeters. They kept me in the hospital for two more weeks, and at 34 weeks pregnant, I went home, back to bedrest for the remainder of the pregnancy. The boys held out until 36 weeks. <br />
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At exactly 36 weeks, my water (baby A's sac) broke spontaneously at 3:30 a.m., Jan. 22, 2009. So my husband and I went to the hospital. At that point, the type of delivery was based on fetal positions and of course, the babies tolerating labor. They did a quick ultrasound when I got to labor and delivery, and both boys were head down and doing fine, so my OB said it was fine to try for vaginal delivery.<br />
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The next 12 hours were pretty boring. I had constant EFM due to the high risk of delivering identical twins---one external monitor, one internal. Also, for some reason they couldn't find the results from my GBS test, so they assumed it was positive and gave me the antibiotics. I was comfortable enough in the bed, and was able to unhook myself from the monitors to go to the bathroom. Contractions weren't very strong. <br />
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After 12 hours, the OB on call suggested pitocin augmentation. The contractions were very irregular and not real strong, which was due to carrying twins and my uterus being so distended. When they gave me the pit, they also placed an epidural catheter, but did not put any drug in. I was told to just speak up if/when I wanted the epidural and they could immediately administer some. After 4 hours on the pit, things started to hurt, especially in my back, so I asked for the epidural. It worked immediately, and the contractions were no longer painful, though I could feel pressure every time one happened. I was able to nap a bit. Finally, after about 20 hours of laboring, I was ready to push. <br />
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Hospital policy was to deliver multiples in the OR, just in case the need for an emergency C-section came up. So, they wheeled me over there. Up to that point, a nurse, a resident and my husband were with me. The nurse and the resident were very nice and were coaching me during the pushing.<br />
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In the OR, the OB was also there, a team of nurses for both babies, and maybe even more people, but I'm not sure. Despite the large audience, by that time, I didn't care. Even though the epidural made it so the contractions didn't hurt, the pushing was another story. I found it quite painful, especially the "ring of fire." Not sure why I could feel the pushing but not the contractions, but there it is. Anyway, I pushed at Baby A for about two hours (I think), but he was turned a bit to one side and then he started having late decels, so they hauled him out with the vacuum. They pulled while I pushed. He came out right away then, and was fine. He was taken off to be weighed, measured, checked, etc., and I rested for a few minutes before resuming pushing. <br />
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In those few minutes, Baby B, who had been lodged in my rib cage since 20 weeks pregnant, dropped right down and it was an amazing feeling...I could breathe again! They did another quick u/s to make sure he was still head down. He was, and he was out in four pushes. Babies were born on Jan. 23, 2009, and were 12 minutes apart. Both babies could breathe fine, so neither went to the NICU, though they were observed closely in the regular nursery for an extra day to make sure they didn't lose too much weight or get too jaundiced. At birth, A was 5 pounds, 2 ounces, and B was 4 pounds, 9 ounces ... when we took them home 3 days later, A was 4 pounds, 11 ounces, and B was 4 pounds, 3 ounces. But they were stable and eating, they regained their birth weight in a normal amount of time. <br />
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About eight hours after they were born, I hemorrhaged, but there was a nurse in the room at the time, and she got a team of many people in there in seconds. It was scary, but they had me on pit and O2 and stable very quickly. I am thankful that I was still in the hospital when it happened ... the quick response prevented a transfusion (or worse). <br />
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Anyway, since I lived in that hospital for a month on bedrest, I met all the nurses on the L&D floor. They were all very nice to me, and when I came back to the hospital to have the babies, I had already met the nurses that were there during my L&D. When I had the hemorrhage, one nurse that I knew from before was holding my hand while the team did what they needed to do. She was very reassuring. The whole L&D was very calm ... there was no screaming or rushing around. The doctors and nurses were very considerate and I was asked for consent before they did anything (vaginal exam, pit, epidural, etc). The OB explained why he wanted to do what he wanted to do.<br />
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I don't plan to have any more children, but I did, I would definitely use the same OB and deliver in the same hospital. Getting the babies here safe and sound was everyone's top priority, and it was a nice bonus to have an overall pleasant experience.Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-43548719561384758272011-09-12T15:45:00.000-07:002011-09-12T15:45:07.650-07:00The birth of a motherLyndsay shares her son's and her daughter's births:<br />
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I always knew I wanted to be a mother. I remember when I was three years old, my mother brought my sweet little baby brother home from the hospital. I watched her gentle hands while she cared for him. I watched her nurse him quietly taking in the moments they shared. I mimicked her behavior with my dolls, nursing and wrapping and holding them close always thinking in my little child-like brain that I couldn’t wait to be “grown up” and have real baby all my own.<br />
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It would be a long time before that dream came to fruition. While in nursing school, I did a rotation in Women’s Health … and hated it. It was all I could do to get through the lectures and go to clinical. I felt that way because I feared that I would never have the opportunity to be a mother for 2 reasons: the first was that I was single, coming ever closer to 30, and still hadn’t found “the one.” My second fear was what if I did find a wonderful man, got married and couldn’t have children? I was better off staying far away from anything that had to do with babies, so needless to say the day I took that final was a good day. The second semester of nursing school, I met that wonderful man. I knew he was it for me on our first date and he felt the same way. We were married 11 months later and expecting our first child just 3 months after that. <br />
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After graduation, I was offered a great job. Not a job in the Emergency Department like I had planned, but a job in -- you guessed it -- LABOR AND DELIVERY. I hesitated at first, but the director was very supportive of me, and being 5 months pregnant I really needed to take what I could get. I know now that I was destined to be an L&D nurse. Witnessing the birth of a child is one of the most spiritual endeavors on this earth and I feel closer to God every day I am a part of it.<br />
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I had a pretty uneventful pregnancy. When I was 38 weeks, I went to my weekly appointment with my OB. My mother had flown in to be with me for the Eric’s arrival, and I was so ready to have a baby. My blood pressure had started to increase, so my doctor and I came to the agreement that I would be induced at 38 2/7 weeks.<br />
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At the time, I was still a very new nurse, and an even newer soon-to-be mother. I didn’t realize the risks involved with an induction, and my doctor was not confident that I would delivery vaginally. My cervix was not ripe and my Bishop Score was not promising -- my doctor was proud of his low cesarean section rate and hoped I wouldn’t affect it. Honestly, I didn’t really care, I just wanted to have him here safe and sound.<br />
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I was admitted into the hospital at 6 p.m. on March 5, 2008. I was greeted by a wonderful nurse, who coincidentally is one of my dear coworkers today. My cervical exam was 1 cm, thick, and high ... not good for a baby to come out “from below.” I was given a small dose of Cytotec (dun, dun, dun ... ooooohhh yes, the evil drug!) at around 9 p.m. and the cramping and contractions started within the hour. I handled the contractions (sorry I don’t call them “waves”) really well. They are uncomfortable, but I was still able to rest and relax, preparing myself for the work ahead.<br />
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I didn’t go into this experience with any other goal than a healthy baby. I knew I would get an epidural eventually but wanted to experience labor without one for as long as I could. I really don’t like pain and I wanted to enjoy this experience as much as possible. I sent my husband home to sleep, as I knew this would be a long haul and I hoped that he would be rested and ready to welcome our baby. My mother stayed by my side as my main support. At 2:45 in the morning, I was awakened by a “pop” and a gush of fluid. It was actually kind of funny because it scared me -- I thought to myself, “What just happened? Did my water just break?” The fluid was clear, my baby looked great on the monitor and the very next contraction I was initiated into the world of active labor.<br />
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Oh ... my ... gosh ... and people do this for hours and hours? No thanks ... where is that anesthesiologist??? The contractions were so much stronger without the cushion of water. I remember feeling like someone had taken over my body, like I was not in control. When I was in the middle of a contraction all I could think about was, "When will this contraction end?" And in between them, all I could think about was, "When is the next one going to come?"<br />
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My nurse checked me and I was 4 centimeters, 50% effaced, and -1 station, yay progress! I was contracting strongly every 3-4 minutes and the baby was looking great on the monitor. It was really comforting to me to be able to hear his heartbeat. I was progressing enough on my own that I didn’t need any further augmentation. That one small dose of Cytotec had put me into labor. Within an hour of my membranes rupturing I got an epidural ... ahhhh relief. I was able to rest and let my body do its miraculous work.<br />
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At around 7 a.m., I began to feel sudden pressure and pain. At the same time, I could hear my baby’s heart begin to decelerate. I knew from my training what needed to be done. I turned over on my side, and within seconds two nurses came rushing in. They started oxygen, gave me some extra IV fluids and checked my cervix -- I was completely dilated and the baby was at 0 station. I knew that decelerations in the fetal heart rate are common with rapid dilation and descent. His heart rate quickly returned to normal, I relaxed and began to mentally prepare myself for the events to come. I think it was divine intervention that my OB was in surgery that morning because it allowed me to “labor down” and let me body work on its own, saving me from possibly hours of pushing. <br />
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My mom called my husband to update him on my progress. Her exact words were, “David, things are progressing a little faster than we thought, you may want to start heading over to the hospital.” The pain and pressure had increased but I didn’t feel the need to push ... yet. As soon as she hung up, I told her get him back on the phone and tell him to get over here NOW! I was suddenly afraid he was going to miss the best part! He got there within 45 minutes, pretty good for getting a shower and a 25-minute drive. At 8:15, my new nurse (another sweet and wonderful girl!) came in and informed me that my doctor was out of surgery.<br />
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Her timing was perfect because I started to feel the pressure and urge to push. My OB came in around 8:25 and the first words out of his mouth as he entered my room were, “Boy, did you prove me wrong!” At that point I was hurting, and pushing felt so unbelievably good, so good in fact that my body just did it on its own. I was afraid my baby boy was going to just pop out onto the floor! My doctor reassured me that he was ready to catch him whenever he was ready to arrive. I begged him to give me some lidocaine because I knew that “ring of fire” was going to hurt. <br />
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Everyone in the room was so encouraging and coached me with care; at 8:35 a.m., my sweet Eric Christopher was here. He was born with a nuchal cord as well as a true knot, which explained the prolonged decel when I went to complete. They laid him on me and I will never forget that moment as long as I live. The feel of his soft, warm, squirmy body, the sound of his sweet cry, the look in his eyes as he peered into mine.<br />
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He was here, he was mine, he was healthy, he was beautiful, he was blue! He wasn’t blue all over, just his face. My mother asked the nurse, “Why is he blue? Is he OK?” In a thick accent the nurse replied, “He OK, his lips pink, see?” She pulled his little quivering lower lip down gently to reveal soft pink gums. His face had bruised from the quick descent and as well as sitting in the birth canal for so long while I labored down. My husband cut the cord and we were in love. I am a mother, we are officially a family!<br />
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Due to his bruising, he developed jaundice and had to be put under bili lights. I think it was more stressful for me than it was for him. I refused to supplement him because the one time I had given him a taste of formula, he became so sleepy he wouldn’t nurse and I panicked. I spent the next 72 hours alternating between nursing him and pumping every 1½ hours. I was exhausted, but I persevered and successfully nursed him until he weaned himself at one year old. <br />
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When Eric was about a year old, I felt like it was time to add to our family. In my faith, we believe that our families are eternal, that we existed in heaven before and will continue to exist as a family for all time and eternity. I felt as though we are meant to be a family of four; little did I know how long the journey would be to get there.<br />
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When we started out, my husband and I would joke around that we hoped it didn’t happen right away. Having a toddler and a newborn would be so much of a challenge. In my heart, I hoped it would happen immediately. I couldn’t wait to become a mother of two.<br />
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Month after month, nothing happened. I started to track my ovulation, no baby. We saw a doctor for bloodwork; it came back normal, so we kept trying, no baby. I took Clomid, no baby. I saw a fertility specialist and we started being more aggressive. I used injectable fertility drugs with intrauterine insemination, twice, no baby. This went on for months. Every night I would pray, “Please God, please bless us with another baby. Please don’t let my sweet boy grow up as an only child.”<br />
<br />
I started with confidence, which turned into frustration, which turned into fear, which turned into hopelessness. What is wrong with me? What am I doing wrong? What am I going to do if this never happens? One night in the throes of desperation I prayed for something different. I prayed to be whole again. I prayed to accept things as they are. I prayed to be a good mother to my son -- I was so caught up with having another baby that it was affecting my ability to be a good mother. I prayed to be a good wife to my husband, who was suffering along with me as I was pushing him away to wallow in my sadness alone. I prayed to have the void in my heart to be filled.<br />
<br />
I decided to get a second opinion from another fertility specialist. He went over my records and told me that all of the treatments I had done had been a waste of time and money. Due to my endometriosis, my hormone levels were not high enough to develop an egg that was of high enough quality to be fertilized. He reviewed the literature with me and with the extent of my endometriosis, he estimated my chances of natural conception at 1-2%. His recommendation was surgery to remove the endometrial lesions and to move on with further aggressive treatment. As an expert in his field and highly regarded I was glad to have someone give me a straight answer to my infertility issues, but actually hearing it was very difficult. He told me to talk it over with my husband and to call when I started my period to schedule the surgery.<br />
<br />
Two weeks later, while I wondered why my period didn’t start, I decided half-heartedly to take a pregnancy test. When I picked it up and saw those two lines I almost passed out ... I was pregnant ... naturally!! I had saved a Father’s Day card in hopes I could use it to announce my pregnancy to my husband. It took me 10 minutes to find it since it was buried in the bottom of a drawer. With a trembling hand, I wrote out the card: “Dear Daddy, Happy Father’s Day! I can’t wait to meet you in May!” When my husband read it he looked up at me first with confusion, then the tears began to well up in his eyes. “You’re pregnant?” he said. “Yes, we are pregnant!” We picked up our young son and held each other in awe of this utter miracle.<br />
<br />
Fast forward 8 months. I was 39 weeks, swollen, tired and ready to have a baby. I had been on modified bed rest since about 32 weeks due to preterm contractions, which hadn’t changed my cervix but may have caused trouble, especially since my job entails long hours of being on my feet, not to mention I that I am a nurse and somehow we seem to be cursed. Things rarely go as planned for us, especially in pregnancy.<br />
<br />
I was a much more seasoned labor and delivery nurse now, and being a nurse, especially in this field, is both a blessing and a curse. I know all too well what can go wrong and I deal with it all the time. Pregnancy and birth, as I have learned time and time again, are NOT to be trusted; they are to be highly respected. There are so many variables to be considered, and while most of the time everything goes as planned, the alternative is tragic and heart-breaking. I knew in my soul that I could not carry this baby past my due date. I had nightmares that she would be stillborn and I felt like she would be better off on the outside.<br />
<br />
I had a different OB this time, a friend of mine who I admired and trusted immensely. We both agreed that an elective induction at 39 weeks would be the plan. At my 38 week visit I was only 2 cm, thick, and -3 station, again not a great scenario for a vaginal birt,h but since I had done it before, we were both pretty confident it would work out. I honestly didn’t care if I delivered her vaginally or via c-section. All I wanted was for her to be safe and healthy, and I felt like that needed to happen soon.<br />
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My induction was scheduled for Wednesday night, May 11, 2011. As I was instructed, I called the L&D unit to make sure there was a bed for me since my induction was not medically indicated. It was just my luck that the unit was bursting with women in labor as well as sick antepartum patients. I was so disappointed but tried to stay relaxed. The next morning, after a completely sleepless night, I called again. Of course, more women had arrived in labor and it was not looking good to get in anytime soon. I messaged my friends at work, as they were all anxiously waiting for updates.<br />
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Since Eric wasn’t home, my mom and I decided to go up to my unit so I could say hello and give her a tour. I had been contracting since the night before, but since I had contracted fairly regularly during the last half of my pregnancy, I didn’t think much of it. Once we got there around 1 p.m., we walked around, and I showed her the rooms and all of the cool “bells and whistles” we had there. It really is a beautiful place. All the while I continued to contract, and they were starting to hurt a bit! I told my friends, jokingly, that maybe I was going into labor.<br />
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It was just at that time that a big thunderstorm rolled in. Although my OB did not have privileges at this hospital, I agreed to be evaluated because I knew there was no way I was going to drive 20+ miles in a severe thunderstorm to be checked, just to be sent home because I wasn’t in labor. One of the great physicians I worked with agreed to assume care of me while I was there. My nurse applied the fetal monitor, and again a wave of relief washed over me as I heard my baby girl’s swift heartbeat. I wasn’t really worried about her, as I could feel her regular movements, but a visual of a reactive non-stress test put what little worry I had to rest.<br />
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When my nurse/friend checked my cervix I was totally surprised: 5 centimeters, 70% effaced and -2 station ... I WAS in labor!! Making the phone call to my husband was actually quite amusing. He had decided to go into work while I waited to be admitted for my induction. To hear from me that I was in labor, not at the hospital where we planned to deliver, but at the unit where I worked, was not something he had planned for. I actually had to explain it to him more than once. Luckily, he worked just down the street so his drive in a South Texas downpour was short. <br />
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Once I was admitted, I called my OB’s office and let her know that I was in labor. I thought I was going to just leave a message with her nurse, when she answered the phone, “What is going on? Where are you?” When I told her, she was really disappointed to not be the one to deliver my baby, as was I, but as I knew well when you are having a baby, plans change. She insisted that I call her as soon as the baby was born so she knew everyone was ok; I agreed and smiled to myself, appreciating her sincere concern for me and my baby girl. <br />
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Although I was 5 centimeters, I was not in “active labor.” My contractions were somewhat irregular and not really strong. I opted for Pitocin augmentation. I was well aware of the risks and I trusted my caregivers implicitly. At 4 p.m., one of my favorite anesthesiologists came through my door to visit. He talked to me about my options and told me he would be available to me anytime. I opted to get the epidural before my water broke this time, as I had already experienced enough contraction pain with my first baby. He placed it without difficulty. Thankfully, the epidural was light and I was able to move around as I needed. I was also able to get a short nap, since it seemed like ages since I had been comfortable enough to actually sleep.<br />
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At 5:30 p.m., my wonderful substitute OB came to see me. I couldn’t have had a better replacement for my regular OB; she has expert skill, a warm heart, and was pregnant as well! I was still 5 centimeters and we both agreed that rupturing my membranes would get things moving since I had PLENTY of amniotic fluid to keep her head nice and cushioned on my cervix. My poor friend taking care of me got drenched when the doctor broke my water -- it was like someone had breached the Hoover Dam! It was clear and the baby continued to look great on the monitor. My OB sat at the nurses’ station and visited with the other nurses while she watched over me as I labored, which didn’t take long.<br />
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At 6:30, I began to feel that familiar pressure and pain. It came over me quickly again, just like it had with Eric. I turned onto my side and began to breathe deep and focus on staying relaxed. I was preparing for something I had waited so long for! When I started to feel like I had to push, I asked my husband to “push the button”. When no one arrived, I asked him again and still no one arrived. When I turned over and yelled, “I need to push! Push the button!” He said, “I did!” He was pushing the button on my epidural (that wasn’t working anyway.) I yelled again to push the call light, as I felt like the baby was going to come out any moment. My OB as well as a group of great friends came to my room immediately and were quickly ready to help me deliver my baby.<br />
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After pushing for less than 10 minutes, at 7:10 p.m., Emmeleia Ryan arrived pink and perfect. They laid her on my chest just as Eric had been and again I felt that comfortable feeling like I already knew her. She was so beautiful and I was so thankful that I had been blessed to add this new little spirit to our family. She was perfect in every way and I knew that she arrived just when she needed to ... we were now a family of four!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwowIbDQ_76y5OetoFPmrtkCSOx8ZVOC3UW2lCQXCKvv_MzCcN9rp3vvvrBfmtwuWGLxNMsBIRKxGfP9597MGg0p2OM3I28kl2PQYF2tVfHnI8lKohuyY9CIrKmHdMuoKdOPtxXajKmEhG/s1600/Newborn_Emmeleia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwowIbDQ_76y5OetoFPmrtkCSOx8ZVOC3UW2lCQXCKvv_MzCcN9rp3vvvrBfmtwuWGLxNMsBIRKxGfP9597MGg0p2OM3I28kl2PQYF2tVfHnI8lKohuyY9CIrKmHdMuoKdOPtxXajKmEhG/s400/Newborn_Emmeleia.jpg" /></a></div><br />
When Eric came to see his new baby sister, he was ecstatic! He hugged and kissed her just like he had always known her, which I knew he had. After all the heart ache and longing, I finally had my family, complete and whole. I finally had my heart, complete and whole. The birth of me as a mother was the most intense, scary, elating, fulfilling and by far the greatest blessing I have ever received. It is so much more than the event of their actual arrival. It is the journey of me as a daughter, a woman, a wife, and the evolution of me from within. It is so much more than what is encompassed inside me or the mechanism of my body, it is spirit and body coming together, it is life, and it is the greatest miracle of all.Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-14799739646632655592011-09-04T14:45:00.000-07:002011-09-04T14:45:27.410-07:00Baby Aline's birth storyLauren shares her daughter Aline's birth story:<br />
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On Wednesday, July 7th, we had an appointment with the midwife at the OB clinic. At that point, she expressed concern with me going very far past my due date since I have a heart condition.<br />
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We went ahead and set an induction date, and hoped that I would go naturally before that. The next Friday, I started to feel some contractions and thought it was the real deal ... nope. Not the real deal. Ugh, how frustrating.<br />
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Saturday evening, my best friend called me crying because she'd had yet another fight with her fiance. ... I told her that I was being induced on the 15th and that I'd love for her to come out if we could figure out a way to get her out to Maryland from Indiana. We ended up booking her ticket the next day, and I sat and prayed that she'd make it out in time and I wouldn't go into labor before Becky got here. Tuesday morning, Becky arrived and we went back to my house to hang out.<br />
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Thursday morning dawned bright and clear, and I called Labor and Delivery at 0700 as requested. Nurses were in reporting, so they told me to call back in 15 minutes. Ugh. I didn't WANT to wait, I needed to know when I was to come in. I called back exactly 15 minutes later, and got my time ... 11 a.m. I tried to go back to bed but that didn't work out, so I just stayed up and watched the news. I took a long hot shower, shaved, and had some freak--out moments ... then we headed out the door and down the road to the hospital. We got there and waited for about an hour to get a room. I thought things would get going pretty fast ... they didn't.<br />
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First, the doctors wanted to evaluate my heart and make sure I was healthy enough for laboring. Yep, no problems there. Then, they wanted to make sure I'd be good to get the epidural. I have a genetic condition that can cause tumors or lesions to form on the spinal cord. Since they didn't have a recent MRI of my back, I had to go get one of those done. Horrible experience ... I had to lay on my back in the cramped quarters of the machine. Not fun. <br />
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Oh, did I mention I was in isolation the WHOLE time because of my MRSA infection? [Lauren had contracted MRSA about two weeks before her deliver.] Yeah. I couldn't leave my room, even before they hooked up all the machines and IV and everything. I couldn't get up and walk more than just around my room. I understand why they had to do it, but it was frustrating as anything.<br />
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Anyhow ... the MRI came up clean, so they knew they were good to start the epidural. Around 4 p.m., I started getting good solid contractions, even without the pitocin. It wasn't hard labor by any means, but they hurt bad enough that I asked for pain meds. I cried when I asked for them; I had hoped to go without the narcotics but I was miserable, and it was going to be a good 2-3 hours before I could get the epidural. They gave me the Nubain and Phenergan, and I passed out. This is when the scary stuff started to happen.<br />
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Around 8:30 p.m., Aline's heart rate plummeted into the mid 90s, from around 130. I was very drugged at this point and don't remember anything, so this is all just what I was told. They got me onto my hands and knees, and her heart rate came up with that and oxygen. I ended up on the oxygen mask most of the time I was laboring, and spent a good 75% of it on my side. They went ahead and gave me Terb to get the contractions to stop for a bit, and I passed back out.<br />
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A little while later, the anesthesiologists came in and gave me my epidural. I was so special, I got the head of all the OB anesthesiologist team to do mine, lol. Once it was in, they started me on a low dose of pitocin. That went well, so they stepped it up every few hours. I wasn't really dilating well ... oh wait ... I forgot something. That first night I was in, they put in a Foley bulb to try to get me to dilate, I got to like 3.5 and stalled. Ugh.<br />
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Ok, back to Friday. I was making some slow progress with dilation, and was feeling pretty well. I hit about 5 centimeters and was really looking forward to getting this kid out and in my arms. She decelerated again and we had to stop the pit again. The Terb was HORRIBLE. Gave me the shakes like nobody's business. I didn't like that and if I can avoid pit in the future, I will. I just do not react well to it.<br />
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Anyhow, around 1 p.m., the docs checked me again. They noticed that Aline seemed to be face up, so the midwife helped me roll over on my hands and knees and kinda hug the back of the bed. Not easy when you can't feel your lower body!! I was there for about 10 minutes when I felt (and heard on the monitor) a very loud and strong kick. All of a sudden, I felt this WEIRD feeling between my legs. I don't even know how to describe it now ... it just felt mushy and wet. Becky grabbed the nurse and told her what I felt, and she came and checked me. Turns out, my water broke all on its own! I was psyched about that; they had talked about AROM if it didn't break soon since I was nearing the 24 hour mark.<br />
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After that, everything started moving much more rapidly. Within an hour I was 6 centimeters, then another hour I was about 7.5. I was also effacing very quickly, I went from 50% to 90% in about 2.5 hours. Next check I was 10 centimeters and fully effaced. Now we just needed to wait for me to feel the urge to push. They were watching the monitors and could tell when my contractions were amping up. <br />
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Soon I could feel the urge to push, so we started pushing. By the second set of pushes, they could see her hair! Unfortunately, I had a long time in between contractions and she kept sliding back up. I pushed and pushed, she continued to not cooperate -- two steps forward one step back, so to say. I was getting exhausted, my heart was starting to palpitate (symptom of my heart condition) and her heart rate was dropping again. They had me laying on my side pushing, they tried having me on all fours ... nothing was really helping her descend. They finally asked me if I would be OK with the forceps delivery.<br />
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I decided to go ahead with it .. I didn't want to make her suffer anymore and I just didn't think I could do it by myself. Boy was I glad we went with the forceps ... after about 4 sets of pushing with the forceps, she was born. She had the cord around her neck and was not looking well. She also wasn't fully face down, she was kind of looking at my left thigh, if that makes sense. I did end up tearing when they brought her shoulders out; I had a second degree tear that had to be stitched up. They don't do routine episiotomies at this hospital, so tearing was to be expected. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2iKMl2-86QOQ_S4970vSWnCy_n0mSgy5Wo0pdlJLzUc6Dq5aNwdAGZSyfPmOGplV2IVQLp8KBNujZJ_8x8iuJttSgcTcar6iuEfO6tdV8JlSPd_mTKKeLSrbQQy9xfT56iY3sCp_I0ozU/s1600/alianddaddy2+-+Copy+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2iKMl2-86QOQ_S4970vSWnCy_n0mSgy5Wo0pdlJLzUc6Dq5aNwdAGZSyfPmOGplV2IVQLp8KBNujZJ_8x8iuJttSgcTcar6iuEfO6tdV8JlSPd_mTKKeLSrbQQy9xfT56iY3sCp_I0ozU/s400/alianddaddy2+-+Copy+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></div><br />
The docs quickly cut her cord (I was a bit sad cuz I wanted Bobby to do it, but I understood why they had to) and got her off to the warmer. I still had the oxygen mask on at this point, and I couldn't hear her crying over the sound of the air. Needless to say, I freaked out. Completely lost it. I was sobbing and asking why she wasn't crying. They were all like, "Don't worry, she's crying ... she's perfect ... she's ok ..." and me still freaking out over on the table. Finally they went ahead and turned off the air and I heard the sweet sound of my baby girl screaming her head off.<br />
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They handed her to Bobby and she immediately stopped crying and just looked around for the source of his voice. I have the most precious picture of him holding her right after they handed her to him ... thank god my best friend was in there to get the picture. Daddy got to hold her while they stitched me up, and then she was handed off to me. Absolutely best moment of my entire life. Holding her made everything we'd gone through the past 9 months worth it.<br />
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She was born at 10:32 p.m., July 16th, after about 28 hours of labor and 2 hours of pushing. She was 7 pounds, 3.7 ounces, and 20 inches long. She's a skinny one! Too cute though, and she's a wonderful baby. I am one hundred billion percent in love with this baby.<br />
Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-76040475721478401472011-09-03T13:00:00.000-07:002011-09-03T13:05:30.689-07:00Baby Liam's med-free hospital birthJohanna shares her story of a medication-free birth in the hospital with a Certified Nurse Midwife (visit <a href="http://midwifeology.blogspot.com/2011/08/educational-standards-of-american.html">Midwife{ology}</a> for an explanation of the difference between CNMs and Certified Professional Midwives, or CPMs):<br />
<br />
Shortly after I woke up on Tuesday, November 24, four days past my “due date” (HA!), I lost my mucous plug. I hadn’t had any other signs of impending labor and had pretty much resigned myself to being pregnant well past Thanksgiving. When I told Evan about this new development, his eyes lit up and he said, “I think today’s the day!” I told him not to get too excited because I wasn’t having any contractions.<br />
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I dropped Evan off at work and once I got home, I started having irregular contractions. I didn’t think too much about them because there was no pattern and they weren’t too painful. I went about my normal day, except that I spent a lot of time moving back and forth between sitting on my yoga ball and tailor sitting on the floor. The contractions go a bit more serious, but I was convinced this was not the real thing yet, so I tried to keep myself distracted. I finished knitting a blanket for my sister’s baby and picked up around the house, breathing deeply through each contraction. I called my mom to see if there was anything she needed me to pick up at the grocery store for Thanksgiving dinner and I let her know that I might be in early labor, so I asked her to not tell anyone and to say a prayer for a safe and easy labor.<br />
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I went to the grocery store, and I had to stop periodically and lean against the cart to breathe through a contraction, but I was still not convinced that I was in labor. I picked up what my mom needed and got some frozen pizzas for our dog sitter “just in case” she needed to come that night.<br />
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I had a midwife appointment that afternoon, so I headed there a little hopeful, but still skeptical that I was actually in labor. I told Judith (the midwife I met with) that I had lost my mucous plug and I had been having contractions all day, but they still weren’t too strong or regular. She said that it might be early labor, but it might stop still, which was common among first pregnancies. She offered to check my dilation, but I declined because I was afraid it would either crush me if I wasn’t dilated, or possibly make me overly excited if I was. I asked who the midwives on call were for that night and the next, in case I ended up going to the hospital.<br />
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On the drive home, I was hit with a contraction that made me get serious –- I had to grip the steering wheel and breathe very slowly and deeply. A few minutes later, I was hit with another one. When I got home I checked the clock, and it was exactly 10 minutes from when I had left the midwives' office. I called Evan and told him he’d need to find a ride home because I wouldn’t be able to make the drive to pick him up with the contractions as strong as they were. Evan got very excited and said he’d finish up and get a ride. I paced and bounced on the yoga ball as I waited for him to come home.<br />
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Evan blew through the door, super excited and ready to go. I was still willing to believe that it wasn’t the real thing (talk about denial), so I suggested we order dinner and then see how I felt. We had a big pasta dinner, and I drank a small glass of wine, but the contractions kept coming. I went upstairs to take a bath to see if that would slow things down. As I was about to climb in the tub, I noticed a trickle of pink-tinged fluid. I called the midwife on call, Melissa, and she said that it sounded like a rupture in my membranes, and that I should take my bath and call her if my contractions got to be one minute long and three minutes apart. As soon as I climbed in the tub, my contractions became much stronger. I kept an eye on the clock and noted that they were roughly three minutes apart. I got out and got dressed, and brought my hospital bag downstairs.<br />
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I let Evan know how the contractions were going and he got even MORE excited! We started <a href="http://contractionmaster.com/">Contraction Master</a> on the laptop, and while he gathered up what we needed, I paced around the living room, stopping and kneeling against the back of the couch when a contraction came. Evan called Melissa back and she told us to come in to the hospital. We called our dog sitter and our parents to let them know we were on our way to the hospital.<br />
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The car ride was rough, but not as bad as I thought it might be. Thankfully, I had Contraction Master to distract me. As a contraction would start, I’d hit the “S” key and say to Evan, “Here comes another one,” and breathe or moan through it. We arrived at the hospital, and the nurses at the emergency room sent us up to OB triage right away. When we arrived at triage, Melissa greeted us and a nurse hooked me up to the EFM to get an initial reading on my contractions and Liam’s heartbeat. Melissa told us that she had to go deliver another baby, but that once the 10 minutes for the strip were up, the nurse would be able to let me walk the halls until Melissa could examine me.<br />
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Those 10 minutes were really hard -– we propped up the back of the gurney I was sitting on so I could lean over it during contractions. At this point, I had to moan to get through them. I was drinking a lot of water and beginning to feel nauseous. Finally, I was released from the EFM and Evan and I walked the halls of the birth center, stopping for every contraction so I could kneel and rest against the railings on the wall. We walked for about a half hour before I wanted to rest in triage again.<br />
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Quickly after that, Melissa came in and examined me –- I was 6 centimeters dilated, and she was admitting me. She also noticed <a href="http://pregnancy.about.com/od/laborcomplications/a/meconium.htm">meconium</a> in my waters, so she said that their protocol required continuous EFM at this point. Evan and I talked it over and decided to agree if we were able to get a telemetry unit so I could still use the tub and move freely. No problem –- she got one for us right away!<br />
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As soon as we got into our room, I stripped my clothes off and put on a hospital gown (I knew I’d be more relaxed if I wasn’t concerned about messing up my own clothes). I was hooked up to the telemetry unit. I labored draped over the back of the bed as the admitting nurse asked me a bunch of questions. I remember thinking, “How long is this going to go on? Can’t she see I’m in labor?” As soon as she was done, our nurse Sara came in and asked if I wanted to use the tub. YES! I ripped off the gown and got in the tub. Such a relief!<br />
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I don’t remember much about the order of events after that. I know at some point, Sara and Melissa brought Christmas lights into the bathroom and my room so we could turn off the overhead lights, and someone got out my necklace from my Blessingway. Evan stayed right by my side, holding my hand, pouring water over my belly, and encouraging me every step of the way. Sara was in and out, bringing juice for me and Diet Cokes for Evan. Sara was an amazing nurse, more like a doula actually, and she supported both of us beautifully. I know I was in and out of the tub. I labored on a yoga ball, leaning over the back of the bed, and on the toilet. Melissa was in and out of the room, encouraging us.<br />
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Somewhere around 2 a.m., I started to feel pushy. Sara called Melissa in and she checked me –- 9 centimeters! She said I could start doing little “grunt pushes” if that made me more comfortable. It did! Soon after, the pushing contractions got more intense. I started pushing in every position I could think of -– on all fours, on the yoga ball, standing and squatting, and on a birthing stool. I was having trouble getting the pushing “right” -– that is, doing it in a way that helped Liam descend.<br />
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I felt like I was in and out of awareness, but I kept hearing encouraging voices around me. Evan reassuring me that I was making progress and that I was doing a great job. Melissa and the nurses commenting to each other how “beautifully” I was laboring and how well I was listening to my body. As I progressed, my vocalizations became louder and more primal. I started making noises that I didn’t know I was capable of.<br />
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I was exhausted from pushing, and from being awake for nearly 24 hours. Finally, Melissa suggested that I try pushing in the side-lying position to see if that would help me conserve my energy. I agreed to try it (I would have tried anything at that point).<br />
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Melissa had me hold my left leg up, while I had a death grip on Evan in with my right hand. Melissa checked me and told me that the baby had started to descend, and with a few good pushes he would be born. But, I was still having trouble making my pushes “good.” I felt stuck and exhausted. I started saying over and over, “I’m so tired.” Evan kept encouraging me and everyone was telling me I was almost there. We started talking to the baby -– Evan saying, “Come on Liam, help your mom out, she’s working so hard.” I started chanting, “Come on, baby!”<br />
<br />
I felt him move down ever so slightly and slowly. I felt my body begin to stretch and Melissa told me to rest for a moment and reach down to touch my baby. I felt the top of his head and his hair, which I was told by the adoring nurses, was curly. Melissa supported my perineum and told me to push on the next contraction. I pushed and pushed with each contraction, and his head slowly emerged -– first a forehead, then eyes, then a nose, and then his whole head. It hurt so much and I had to focus every fiber of my being on pushing beyond the pain and with all my strength.<br />
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At this point, Evan was super excited, telling me he could see the head. Melissa told me to open my eyes and look at my baby. I remember shouting, “I CAN’T! I’M PUSHING!!”<br />
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So we kept pushing, and with one incredible push and a sound that seemed to at the same time come from deep inside me and from somewhere beyond myself, it was over. I opened my eyes when I heard a squawk and there he was – Liam, all pink and covered in vernix and meconium.<br />
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Melissa suctioned his nose and throat and placed him on my chest. At some point, the NICU team had assembled in my room –- another standard procedure when meconium is present. As soon as Liam was checked out by Melissa, they cleared out immediately.<br />
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I was totally in awe of him. I remember repeating over and over, “I can’t believe we did it. I can’t believe you’re here.” Liam nestled right up in between my breasts and gazed up at Evan and I, and he stayed there for his first hour. He never left our room the whole time we were in the hospital. His Apgars were 8/9. Evan gave him his first bath in the room and spent lots of time with Liam skin-to-skin on his chest.<br />
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I am so grateful that I was able to give birth without augmentation or pain medication. Evan was the perfect coach and we had a great team at the hospital. Giving birth to Liam was one of the most powerful experiences of my life, and I am so grateful to have him.Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-48557711305792992202011-09-02T16:14:00.000-07:002011-09-02T16:14:12.046-07:00Diana's happy induction<br />
I hail from a crunchy, liberal, overly educated neighborhood of Washington DC. When I got pregnant, I went to my gynecologist (now my OB) of several years. Every appointment I had was a dream. The doctors were very patient listening to my first-time jitters and concerns and paranoia and easing my anxiety (especially when it came to putting me on drugs for my severe morning sickness -- I had visions of Thalidomide in my head, but Zofran has been used safely for decades).<br />
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But no sooner did news of my pregnancy get out than suddenly neighbors and acquaintances began pressuring me to abandon the safe approach I had taken as a given for years in favor of homebirth or lay midwives or etc. Even women who had horrible experiences (one friend's baby nearly died after 48 hours of failed labor using "the Bradley method" with lay midwives in a "birthing center" in the middle of nowhere) tried to convince me to try it. They told me to "educate myself" -- but they never accepted that all my reading and talking to experts on both side of the line (a bit of a false dichotomy, since the scientific evidence is overwhelmingly in favor of hospital birth!) resulted in true "education." To them, "education" only counted if you came away agreeing with them.<br />
<br />
Because of my husband's schedule, we were unable to attend the hospital's birthing class. I thought Lamaze was the same thing. It's not. We wound up in a class with a doula instructor who treated the entire thing as one long advertisement for her services-for-hire. It was overt and really left a bad taste in my mouth. To make it worse, there was a lot of bad advice. She showed us propaganda films about the evils of epidurals. I had to pull up statistics -- on the miniscule chances of any of the side effects the film put in blood red bold type actually happening -- in order to ease my husband's sudden fears. She actually recommended to a class full of first-time parents that they LIE to their doctors about their medical conditions. She wanted us all to drink castor oil milkshakes. I didn't learn a thing, except to be even more skeptical about the methods my friends were advocating.<br />
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I did end up watching the Ricki Lake documentary ["The Business of Being Born"], and then spoke to my doctor about it. She was more than helpful pointing the way to all kinds of literature showing how biased and ill-informed and just plain wrong the movie was. On one hand, my homebirth friends and my Lamaze instructor were pushing unproven methods and telling me to lie to medical professionals. On the other hand, my doctor and her staff were giving me facts and figures and informing me of the risks and safety precautions. I learned just how quickly your low-risk birth can turn into a high-risk one (seconds) and how a good hospital can save you and your baby through an emergency C-section in mere minutes.<br />
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I went overdue. No spicy foods, no hiking, no sex was helping things along. But induction was the best choice -- overdue babies have a much higher rate of stillbirth, and your placenta can crap out at any moment. I had been scared stiff by the Lamaze instructor and the movie about the "evil" pitocin, and my doctor didn't sugar coat my chances -- my induction might fail, and then I'd wind up with a section. I was a C-section baby, and my mother had successful VBACs after me. I wasn't thrilled about the possibility of abdominal surgery, but I also knew from my mother that it wasn't the end of the world. Also, one of my closest friends (who helped me laugh off a lot of the pressure I'd been getting) had 3 C-sections and loved them.<br />
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The night of the induction, my husband and I went out for a fancy dinner then checked into the hospital at 8 p.m. My L&D room was beautiful -- soft lighting, wireless internet access, a couch for my husband to sleep on. There was even a bathtub. I won't lie -- the bed was not the most comfortable I've ever been on, and the fetal monitor isn't exactly comfortable either, but when you're 9 months pregnant, it's hard to find a comfortable position to sleep in anyway.<br />
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The staff was wonderful. I changed, got my IV and fetal monitor set up, and then they inserted the Cervadil (to ripen my firm, thick cervix) and left my husband and I to watch DVDs on my laptop. The plan was to let the Cervadil work overnight, then start pitocin at 7 a.m. Around 1 a.m., I told my husband to go home and get some sleep, figuring I'd be in for the long haul. At 2 a.m., I was awoken by nurses rushing into the room. One checked the monitor, one put an oxygen mask on my face, and one reached inside me and yanked out the Cervadil. They explained that the baby was not responding well to that drug. I was scared and wished my husband was still there, but one of the nurses stayed with me and explained exactly what was going on and showed me what she was reading on the monitor. At first I thought for sure I was in for a section, since the Cervadil has been in for less than half the recommended time. But soon after, contractions started in earnest. They checked and I was completely effaced and 4 centimeters dilated!<br />
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The next few hours were kind of a blur, as I drifted in and out of consciousness in between increasingly painful and close together contractions. My Lamaze class had taught me that my contractions would be regular and only last for a minute (WRONG). Finally, they were so painful that I wasn't able to sleep in between. I called in the nurse, who told me I should go ahead and get my epidural. I don't know why I still believed the misinformation my Lamaze instructor had given me, but I do remember saying to the nurse that I was hoping not to get my epidural until they started the pitocin at 7 a.m., since I was afraid it would slow down labor. The nurse laughed at that and said, "Honey, you're going to have this baby by 7."<br />
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I called my husband and told him to get his butt back to the hospital. Then came the hard part -- waiting for the anesthesiologist to show up. He's my hero. He had that epidural placed in no time flat. I thought that since it was a needle, it would be instantaneous like an IV drug, but it's not. It takes a while to numb you, and it starts at your toes. Nevertheless, by the time my husband arrived, I was pain-free and excited to get word that I'd reached 10 centimeters and was ready to push. (Apparently, the epidural had relaxed me enough to give me those last few centimeters of dilation. Yay, epidurals!)<br />
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While we waited for the doctor, the nurse suggested we try a practice push. (My Lamaze instructor had warned us that the first 40 minutes of pushing for first timers are just for practice.) I don't know if it was the prenatal yoga I was doing or what, but she stopped me right away and said that I was not to push until the doctor showed up. Which she did a few minutes later.<br />
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I pushed for 25 minutes, and then my beautiful baby girl was born at 7:30 a.m. I'd been warned by my crunchy friends that the epidural would make it hard to push -- it wasn't. I'd been told they'd take the baby away from me. They didn't. I'd been told an epidural would damage my ability to bond with the baby, and breastfeeding. I started breastfeeding right away, with the nurse's assistance. We hung out in the delivery room for a while and then they moved us, together, into our mother and baby suite, which came equipped with a private bath, a pull-out bed for my husband, a TV and DVD player, warming lights for the baby if necessary, and a rocking chair.<br />
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I'd been told that hospitals were horrible, sterile places. This was cozy. We could even bring in our own food. I'd been told the staff would be mean -- they were fantastic. They sent around a lactation consultant and a pediatrician, and the nurses taught me how to bathe and swaddle my daughter. We didn't even have to move -- just got to sit for two days and hold my baby and nurse her.<br />
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A few months after my daughter's birth, once I got adjusted to taking care of a newborn, I began to question the disparity between the fears being put in my mind by natural childbirth advocates and the actual pleasant experience I had. Everything they told me had been wrong, and had seemed designed NOT to alleviate my fear about birth, but instead to create in me a fear of modern medicine that was wholly unfounded. Go take a tour of your hospital -- it's not a torture chamber. It was a lovely, safe, comforting space to have my baby.Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-42452695705801338702011-08-31T08:45:00.000-07:002011-08-31T08:45:54.212-07:00Catelyn's C-section birthAtina shares her daughter Catelyn's birth story:<br />
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Early in my pregnancy with Catelyn, I learned she had a <a href="http://emedicine.medscape.com/article/262470-overview#aw2aab6b4">two-vessel umbilical cord</a>; that basically let us know that our delivery of her could/would be different. I knew several months out that a C-section was more than likely to happen, unless the stars lined up.<br />
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Catelyn stayed breech the entire pregnancy. The picture shows how Miss Catelyn stayed. It made it difficult for me to feel her kick, or even move around. I remember being able to feel her head by my rib cage, and it’s a feeling I still miss to this day.<br />
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Due to the umbilical cord, Catelyn didn’t deal well with stress. My blood pressure was starting to get wonky and weird. My OB let me know that unless my blood pressure straightened out, and Catelyn flipped, I was looking at a C-section. It wasn’t want I wanted, but I understood the risks of a stressed baby. As my due date got closer and closer, he tried flipping her (which was uncomfortable, but he was pretty nice about it) and she wouldn’t stay flipped. I know she wasn’t ready to flip, but she wouldn’t stay in any other position either. She was happily rear facing breeched, thank you very much. When he would try flipping her, her heart rate wouldn’t go back to normal. That bothered both the doctor and myself.<br />
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My blood pressure also stayed overly high. So in the beginning of October, he let me pick the date, either a Tuesday or Thursday. Ha -- like I was gonna wait till a Thursday! He also asked if a student could watch the C-section. I knew that I wouldn’t care if there was an audience or not, I just wanted to meet my new baby. So on October 12th, Shawn and I showed up at the hospital bright and early at 6 a.m. The nurses got me all prepped and ready to go. The worst part of the prepping was the catheter. Oh, the flipping catheter. I would somehow forget how awful the catheter was between kiddos. They wheeled me into the O.R. and got everything set up. <br />
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The spinal block wasn’t a big deal. Imagine someone standing up with their arms straight out, and make a line from one pointer finger to the other. That imaginary line is the Mason-Dixon line of the spinal block world. Everything below that line is numb. The anesthesiologist let me know I should be able to move my thumbs. I could feel the numbing creeping up my lungs; it felt weird and breathing became more difficult. I realized that my thumbs weren’t moving, and I couldn’t get a breath. I must have been tearing up, because the anesthesiologist asked if I was okay, and if my thumbs were still moveable. I shook my head no, and he quickly made an adjustment, and apologized (he had read my files from previous surgeries and made an educated guess to how much medicine I would need, and apparently my body decided this time I didn’t need that much). After that, everything was good. <br />
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My doctor showed up, and asked where the student was at. She was a no-show. He didn’t take that well. Both my doctor and I are, uuumm, what you could call smart asses. I remember him making a comment about the new scalpels in the OR, and how he might as well use a butter knife. I found that funny; the nurse by my head felt she needed to apologize, which made me laugh.<br />
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By 8:20, Catelyn was delivered. She cried early on, but was flashed by me pretty quickly. The peds doctor said she had some fluid in her lungs and wasn’t breathing well. They darted off with her to the nursery, and I sent Shawn with them.<br />
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By the time they were closing everything up, the student showed up. My doctor wasn’t thrilled in the slightest. He asked her where one muscle should be attached to (though he did use the lovely Latin name, that sounded really flipping cool). She said something that I didn’t hear, and apparently she was not just wrong, but very wrong. I chimed in that I didn’t want to walk with a hunch for the rest of my life, which made the nurses and the doctor chuckle as he sent the student out of the room. I do believe that was the last time she was ever allowed in that O.R.<br />
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I was whisked off to the recovery room, where I waited for info. After about 10 minutes or so, Shawn and my mom came in. Shawn came in to check on me and let me know that Catelyn’s breathing was still a bit weird, and he was going back to her. I bounced back from the spinal quickly and was sent to my room. I waited until almost 1 before I got to hold Catelyn or even see her for more than a few seconds.<br />
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Catelyn’s heart rate and breathing were completely wild. Her heart rate would jump all over the place. We stayed in the hospital for 3 days.<br />
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Recovering from the C-section wasn’t quite as bad as I thought. The first time moving was less than fun, but I found that the more I moved the better I felt. I never took pain medications, because I’m stupidly hard-headed. When we got home things were back to normal. Shawn had to go back to work, so it was just me and C. Life was good (for a short time, but that’s another story). <br />
Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-83088151453109880292011-08-30T06:55:00.000-07:002011-08-31T08:48:00.198-07:00For our inaugural post ...My daughter Natalie's birth story! She was born on July 7 this year:<br />
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On Tuesday night/early Wednesday morning a week before I was due, I woke up around 4 or 5 a.m. with some pretty strong contractions. I couldn't sleep through them, so I got up, had a bite to eat, and used the computer a bit. Eventually, they faded away, so I went back to bed ... though of course my sleep for the night was shot!<br />
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Wednesday was a very rough day. I was exhausted from the night before and uncomfortable (I was having Braxton Hicks contractions constantly), the weather was sweltering hot, the boys were driving me up a wall ... it was a long, cruddy day. My husband ended up coming home from work early because I was in such pathetic shape! I was getting pretty desperate to get this kid OUT. <br />
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Then, on Thursday, July 7, I woke up a little after 5 a.m. with some pretty strong contractions. I started timing them around 5:30, and after about another half an hour, I decided that this was probably the real thing, and we should get going. (My previous labors were 3 hours and 2 1/2 hours, so I wanted to err on the side of caution!)<br />
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We made it to the hospital at about 6:30 or so, and on the way there, contractions were still coming about 2-3 minutes apart, though not terribly painful. Unfortunately, after we checked in, they stopped altogether! This was pretty unusual for me, as my previous births had been so fast. I was at 4 centimeters when I got there, but things didn't progress at all after an hour. After another hour, I was still only 4-5 centimeters. <br />
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At that point, the OB on call, Dr. M, said I could either go home if I liked, or they could admit me to labor and delivery, start me on antibiotics (I was GBS-positive yet again -- batting 3 for 3 on that score) and then break my water. While I hadn't had any inductions before and preferred to avoid them, I was frankly getting desperate, and I didn't want to have to go through the whole run-to-the-hospital scenario again (especially as it involved my husband missing work, as well as my mother-in-law, who was watching the boys). I also wanted to make sure I got the full course of antibiotics, as my previous labors had been too short for me to get the full dose.<br />
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Once I got to labor and delivery, things started right back up again. The contractions weren't particularly strong or fast, but at least they were there! We had a fantastic nurse who was very low-pressure and encouraging, and since things were moving slowly, for the most part, we were left pretty much to ourselves. I walked around the halls for a bit, I sat on an exercise ball, and our nurse poked her head in now and then to make sure we were doing OK. Dr. M asked at one point if I wanted to have my water broken, but since things had picked up, I said no, that I preferred to wait and see how things went on their own.<br />
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When the contractions started to get a bit stronger, I got in the shower, which was heavenly. Eventually, I wasn't sure if I could stand up much longer, so I got out. At 12:30, I was still only dilated to 6 centimeters, though. (I know that sounds silly to be discouraged by that, but at that point, I'd already been in labor twice as long as I had been with either of my first two!)<br />
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Immediately after that, things started getting very intense. This time around, I recognized it was transition -- I hadn't been very aware of it during my previous two births. I tried to quell the panicky feeling I was getting and to take slow breaths. I wasn't terribly successful -- I told my husband that I was scared, that I didn't want to do this, that I wanted it to be over ... he was very comforting and reassuring and told me we were almost done. (He knows better than me how my labors go, I think!) I also started thinking, "I wonder if I should have gone for the epidural after all" ... which I recognized as a sign that I was probably getting close to the end.<br />
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Things had started really getting in gear: At 12:45, Dr. M told me I was fully dilated and could push whenever I felt like it. I really didn't WANT to -- because pushing is my very very very least favorite part of labor -- but after about five more minutes, I felt that familiar, undeniable urge. I think I pushed maybe four times -- around five minutes total -- and Natalie was born at 12:56 p.m.! <br />
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They put her on my chest right away, and the first thing I noticed was that we were both covered with yellowish-green gunk. I immediately asked, "Is that mec?" and the doctor nodded. Natalie had passed some meconium in utero, and apparently not too recently, either -- her fingernails were stained with it. So after a minute, they had my husband cut her umbilical cord and took her to another corner of the room so they could make sure her lungs were clear. (They were, thankfully!) <br />
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Because I'd been so much more uncomfortable this time around, I was expecting her to be bigger than the boys, who were 7 pounds 6 ounces and 7 pounds 9 ounces, but our sweet little miss was a mere 7 pounds even and 19 3/4 inches. <br />
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We spent a couple of hours cuddling her in L&D -- she was nursing beautifully -- took photos, and made the requisite phone calls. Afterward, we headed to the mother-baby unit and had visits from a couple of friends and, later in the day, from my in-laws and the boys, who were immediately smitten with their baby sister.<br />
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While her birth was longer than I anticipated, and more intense, it was fantastic. Everyone we dealt with through our whole stay was great, Natalie is doing wonderfully, and I feel terrific. I truly couldn't have asked for a better experience.<br />
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Our sweet angel:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6139/5916086343_3a44a8de1b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="500" width="342" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6139/5916086343_3a44a8de1b.jpg" /></a></div>Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075139965846118064.post-35422153809404076742011-08-29T20:20:00.000-07:002016-08-24T11:34:54.352-07:00Why this blog beganWhen I had my first baby, I did a lot of reading about birth, true to my tendency to research things to death. I particularly loved "Ina May's Guide to Childbirth" and all the groovy birth stories. (The book contained plenty of talk about "cold, sterile" hospitals, too.) <br />
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I was in a crunchy state of mind and really wanted to have my son at home or, at the minimum, at a birth center. My husband wasn't on board, though, and neither was our insurance company. I agreed to a hospital birth ... but at that point, I had heard a lot about what "they" would do to me and our baby (or not "let" me do), and frankly, I was scared. As it turned out, my oldest son's birth (pictured) was a beautiful experience ... and so was my second son's ... and my daughter's.<br />
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Frankly, after my first birth, I like I'd been duped. What had I spent so much time being afraid of? The nurses were kind. The doctors were kind. When my oldest had trouble breastfeeding and the lactation consultant wasn't there (it was Easter), a helpful nurse worked with me again and again and again till we had things figured out. (One nurse even drove to our house to bring us some things we'd inadvertently left at the hospital after we went home!) No one pressured us to give him a bottle or pacifier, or made a big deal when we declined the hepatitis B vaccine (which we later gave him) or circumcision. And this wasn't some progressive big-city hospital, either -- it was just an average hospital in an average Midwestern city.<br />
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As time went by and I had more babies, and my friends had babies, I became disillusioned with the "trust birth" mantra I heard from so many in the natural childbirth community. I saw women who felt their bodies were "defective" because they hadn't had perfect labors. I read about babies born too far from help, or into the hands of unqualified attendants who didn't recognize problems. And yet I continued to hear how awful hospitals were -- chock-full of OBs who just want to make their tee times and are itching to cut you open. <br />
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So, when someone on a community of like-minded women -- who believe more in respecting birth than trusting it -- said, "Where are all the positive hospital birth stories online?", I thought that we needed a place to share them. This is that place.Alexis C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08727635800678448238noreply@blogger.com5