But seriously, stop reading if you don't want to read about that. Skip this post and read my other posts about baking and Jesus. (Although this post WILL include Jesus.)
And another disclaimer, I feel like you need to know why I'm sharing this with the world.
1. I want other "failed" home-birth mommas to not feel alone
2. I want to share this for the sake of sharing it (#becauseiwantto)
3. I want to process it more and I process best by speaking (or writing) while others can hear(or read)
3rd and final disclaimer- this is going to be long.
To begin, we decided on a home birth because the more research I did, the more I was convinced that the hospital was not the environment I wanted to labor and deliver in. I loved the idea of being in my own space and not having to worry about coming home afterwards, not being able to hold my baby exclusively after the birth or being tempted by the various interventions available at the hospital.
I also am a big believer in, "God made me a woman, capable to birth, without hospitals." Women have been birthing without hospitals for centuries. (I'm totally not against hospital births and I do NOT look down on my mommy friends who chose hospital births.)We found a midwife and we loved her. Did all our prenatal appointments, ate well, gained a lot of weight (good weight, OK? ha... a whole 42lbs of "good weight") and prepared our house for a home water birth. (I also spent countless hours dreaming about how beautiful it would be when my baby boy came out in the water and saw his mommy for the first time).
My due date was August 19th, 2014. (Hubby's 25th Birthday!!) The 19th came and went with no baby and my last day at work was August 21st. I started having small contractions and back pain at work on the 21st around 2pm. Lost my mucous plug around 11pm. Slept about 5 hours, kept getting woken up by the small contractions that were about 15 minutes apart. (I was super excited and anxious!) At 5am, they were closer to 6 minutes apart. So I got up and went to the couch and contracted there all morning. Hubby went to work (trying to milk all the hours possible before taking sick days). My grandma arrived around 8am to be moral support and help around the house. My wonderful friend Liz, who is a post-partum nurse at the hospital in town and fellow natural birth advocate, came to be by my side. She was amazing. She wants to be a doula and I don't care if she has the certificate or not, she was an AMAZING doula to me. (She really should just be a midwife... ;) I could NOT have done it without her. I kept my midwife's assistant updated via text because my midwife wasn't feeling well. She said she'd come around 5pm. My contractions were becoming closer together and longer. Each contraction was lasting a minute or so and around 5pm they were 3 minutes apart. It. Was. Awful. You can't be told what labor feels like, and honestly, I remember it hurting but I couldn't tell you how the pain felt. I just know that it was miserable. I alternated between the couch and a stool. TV was on, but I couldn't focus on the show. All I could think about were the contractions. But all afternoon and into the evening I could still talk (kind of) through the contractions.
Midwife didn't arrive until 8:30. She did an internal exam, at my request to find that I was at 4cm dilation. She had my hubby and I lay on our sides in bed next to each other and Daniel pressed on my back which brought temporary relief during contractions. She said that laying on my side would speed up contractions and make them stronger. At 11pm she checked me again to find that I was at 9cm. I got in the birthing tub again, which didn't help me with pain AT ALL. I felt like it gave me less control which was a surprise and a disappointment since everything I read said the water made labor easier.... Labored there for a bit as my midwife drifted in and out of sleep in a recliner in front of me. This really pissed me off. Daniel was in the pool with me, also falling asleep on and off... He wasn't consistently pushing on my back through contractions which I NEEDED to make them bearable. She checked me in the water at 9cm still and broke my water accidentally. This hurt and made me feel even more out of control.
At this point, I felt completely out of control and unsupported. My midwife had 2 assistants there who were trying to encourage me... Everything became a blur. I had to keep telling myself that I wasn't dying and that I could do this (I literally felt like I was going to die). I still hadn't felt an urge to push.
Then my midwife told me I could start pushing (still at 9cm). I did not feel the "urge" to push that everyone says you will have when it's time to push... But my midwife (the person I felt like was in charge at this point) told me I could push. I pushed and pushed and pushed in the tub for probably 40 minutes with no progression. Then they had me get out of the tub and lay on the bed on my side and push while one midwife held my leg bent and pushed up to my side... Did that for 30 minutes.
Then they put me on my back and held my knees up by my head and had me push through the contractions like that... One of her assistants was behind me pushing my shoulders forward. The midwife said that I had a cervical lip that was preventing Jude from coming through. My contractions weren't coming quick enough so he was being brought down and going back up during the rest between contractions. She then physically tried to push the lip (I think?) or my bones apart. It. Was. So. Miserable. I pushed like that for an hour at least.
I was molested as a child and raped in high school. This invasion by my midwife did not help me mentally.
I was exhausted. It was 2am at this point. I had been laboring for 27 hours. I had been pushing for 3 hours. I had not eaten and I had barely been able to drink anything. At this point I couldn't NOT push through contractions. We did so many different positions. I can't remember everything. I know I was on the toilet, the floor, the bed, the floor, the pool, the bed.... Over and over with others holding my body in various positions as I was told to push. They had me scream through contractions and I didn't want to, but they said I had to, so I did. I felt that I would have been able to push better without yelling... But I did what they said. I eventually got to 10cm and they could see Jude's head. Daniel took a picture of how they could see his head and I just remembering not caring because I was so physically worn. They were constantly checking his heart-rate which remained the same (normal) throughout.
I remember them getting excited every time I pushed because they could see him but then between contractions there was too long of a rest period so he kept going back up. I tried to push harder and longer and closer together even when I wasn't contracting... But it wasn't working. They began giving me this herbal remedy that was supposed to make the contractions come quicker. They gave it to me many times. They were also making me eat spoonfuls of honey for energy.
My midwife had me back on the bed when she said that it was getting close to time to transfer. She said it was my decision but it was better to transfer when he was still "ok". She wanted me to travel 1 hour to her OB who would do a vacuum assist... But I really didn't think I could last 1 hour in the car. So I chose the hospital in town where Liz works. She had already called the hospital and they had called the "on-call" OB.
As soon as I got up out of bed my contractions started coming very quickly. It was miserable. I had to push through them. I remember contracting about every 3 feet I would walk. Contracted on the bed, as soon as I got out of bed, at the bedroom door, at the top of the steps, 2 times as I was going down the steps, just out of the front door, at the bottom of the front steps, behind the car, at the car door, as soon as I sat down in the car and multiple times in the car on the way to the hospital. Got to the hospital, was put in a wheel chair and taken inside. Kept contracting, about 30 seconds apart.
Got to labor and delivery where it took 6 different nurses to get a stupid IV in me... As I was contracting. They were not friendly nor helpful. One of the nurses told me to STOP pushing... If I could have spoken I would have cussed her out for sure. But I couldn't talk. 2 nurses did an internal exam (which freaking hurts)... Then the OB got there and checked (most painful of all) and said "we're doing a C-section". We had no choice. We didn't want a section but the doctor of course said "it's in the best interest of the baby"... Jude's heart-rate was still fine. No signs of distress. But the doctor of course was on-call, didn't want to be working at 4am and knew if he could get me in for a section he could be home in an hour. Rather than labor for who knows how long with me.
This is when that nurse yelled at me for pushing... (seriously!?) They made me get up and go to a different bed... Took me to the surgery room and told me to move to yet another bed... I think at this point they saw the extent of my exhaustion because FINALLY someone advocated for me and said "she has been laboring for 31 hours, we can move her to the table. It took 3 people to hold me up so they could put the spinal in. I just remember thinking "please don't have a contraction while they try to put that needle in..." Luckily I didn't. Then the spinal kicked in, I was in heaven. It was such a relief to not feel pain anymore. I felt like a new woman!
Daniel finally came in and the surgery began. They said "baby is out! It's a boy!" And I was craning to see him but I couldn't... They took him to clean him up and then I heard crying. I still couldn't see him, it was killing me that I couldn't see him. When I finally could see him they were shoving a tube down his throat. It was so painful to watch him, I had no idea what was going on and no one was explaining anything to me. Finally they brought him over to me and I had to crane my neck to even see him... Daniel was holding him. They kept telling me to kiss him so they could get a picture and it was hard and I didn't want to because I hadn't even had a chance to meet him. My arms were strapped down so I couldn't touch him. Then they took him away. Daniel left. I finished surgery...I was taken to "triage" where I sat for an hour with no family or friends, not knowing how my baby was doing, not knowing how much he weighed or what he looked like... It was awful.
Finally, I got to go to my room. We made a QUICK stop at the nursery where I was able to hold my baby Jude for the first time. But only for about 30 seconds before they took him away (he had not been bathed and he was screaming until they handed him to me.) I had given instructions not to give him formula because I wanted to breast feed, exclusively. They were also told not to give him a pacifier because I didn't want it to interrupt the process... I was taken to my room where it then took 2 hours to get my baby into the room with me. He was in the nursery, screaming for ME, for food, for 2 hours before they brought him to me. And he still hadn't been bathed when they brought him to me... How is this ok?
And yes, a healthy baby does matter. But it is not all that matters. A birthing mama's mental health matters. My wishes for my birth matter. And my wishes were not met nor were they respected during the birth.
My next birth will be different. I forgive my health care providers and midwives. But next time, I will be in control of my birth. Or rather, my body will be in control of the birth.
Jude Michael Hughes was born August 22nd, 2014 at 7:34 a.m. via Caesarean Section after 32 hours of labor weighing 8lbs 13oz and 22" in length.
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