I'm now 3 months out from my
"failed" VBAC. I am not ashamed or depress about not reaching my
goals, I have two beutiful girls, and I would do it all again for them both. I
learned a lot about myself along the way, and also that I can't just rely on my
care providers, I need to learn to trust myself and my body first. Three months
after delivery, I'm still working on that trust. My story really begins five
years ago, with the beginnings of my own family.
In the fall of 2008, we found
out that we were expecting our first child. We had a lot of hopes and dreams, just
like all new parents. Mostly though, we just wanted a healthy baby. I had no
idea what to expect going into delivery because in today's society, it's taboo
to discuss child bearing. Even my medical staff didn't share a lot of information
with me, such as pitocin increasing the risk of cesarian, significantly. They
also didn't tell me that receiving an epidural can stall labor and increase
risk of cesarian. IV fluids was another intervention that came without warning.
One after another, multiple interventions left me with "failure to
progress" and " cephalo-pelvic disproportion" diagnosis.
My water broke, at home,
early morning just past 37 weeks. I did not experience a "gush" of
fluids, rather, I thought I had just woke up because I peed my pants. I did not start to feel any of my
contractions until early that afternoon. When I finally realized what was
actually happening, I called labor and delivery and they asked me to come in. It
was determined that I was indeed in labor and because my water had broke, I was
kept there for constant monitoring. I was dilated to 3 cms. IV fluids were
started immediately as well as antibiotics to protect against an infection from
leaking amniotic fluids. Pitocin was started around midnight to "get things
going". I received the epidural at 1:00am because the contractions became
long and hard and I was not progressing.
My epidural wore off that
morning, around 8:00. I was extremely tired by then and was not allowed to walk
or stand. I was left flat on my back for the duration of my labor. I was still
only dilated to 8cms by 10:00, but I was told it was time to start pushing. My
daugher's head came part way down the birth canal and she was stuck at my
cervix . On May 4, 2009, at 12:46 pm, we welcomed our first child into the
world in an operating room. I was tied to a table, unable to see anything. I
briefly saw my daughter's sweet face. She was already diapered and wrapped in a
blanket with a hat on her head, and they whisked her away to the nursery. Dad
went with her and I was left to go to the recovery room, alone, where I waited to
meet the baby I had carried for the last 9 months. I had no idea that I could
have asked to have her with me. I assumed that because I had surgery this was
just the way things were.
My recovery was uncomplicated
and relatively fast. I was released from the hospital two days post-op with a
jaundiced baby on a bili-blanket. We had multiple visits back to the pediatrician
for checkups and bilirubin tests over the next two weeks. Otherwise, my baby
was healthy, and growing, and I loved her more than I ever thought possible. I
did not suffer from post-partum depression as many c-section mothers do. I did
not grieve this birth. I needed to, but I didn't know it yet.
Fast forward to January 2013:
My husband was working out of state, but we had just purchased our third home
in September, the one we wished we could have gotten the first time. This is a
beautiful home, and it had a spare room. We learned that we would be expecting
our second child. Our daughter was almost four, a very enthusiastic, brilliant,
beautiful soul that was the heart of our home. We were very excited to know
that she would be a big sister before the year was out. Our birthing plan this
time would be much different; a planned c-section.
The farther into this
pregnancy I got, the more I read on the risks of a repeat c-section. I felt
that I had gone into the first delivery incredibly unprepared and uneducated
and I promised myself I would be prepared this time. The more I read, the more
I wanted a VBAC. The more I learned, the more I believed my doctors were wrong.
This is when I began to grieve my first birth. Four years later, I longed for
the experience that was taken from me the first time.
At each appointment, a repeat
cesarian was discussed, and I turned it down, every time. My doctors argued
that it was "safer". I was informed that the risk of uterine rupture
was "significant". They told me it was "easier" because I
could plan for it, especially with my husband's work schedule. Never, not once,
were the risks of a repeat c-section discussed.
Somewhere around 20 weeks, I
developed a sharp pain in my groin every time I tried to stand, get out of the
car, roll over in bed, or any other movement that involved my knees moving away
from eachother. It got severe enough that I could not get out of bed without
literally rolling my legs with my hands. I asked about it at three different
appointments and it was brushed off. At 34 weeks, my provider told me
"That's normal. That's why pregnant women waddle." It was then that I
went on the hunt for a new doctor. I knew they did not have my best interests
in mind and that I would end up with another unnecessary surgery to fit their
schedule. I wanted this on my baby's schedule. I found a mid-wife in another
town that agreed to take me on. She had my records from the first delivery and
thought I could at least give this a try. I had a completely different birth
plan this time. I wanted to do this without interventions.
At 38 weeks, I began to have
contractions very unlike the Braxton-Hicks I had been experiencing for the past
four weeks. These came on a regular schedule and with more intensity, they also
did not go away by changing positions or activity. I went to bed Thursday night
knowing my life was about to change again. I did not sleep well that night and
by about 4:00am, I could not sleep through the contractions. I contacted my
midwife at 8:00 and let her know how things were going. My water broke at noon
and we ended up at the hospital by 6:00 that evening.
I made it through my labor,
without interventions until after I began vomiting, then they started an IV
drip. I was given IV pain medication to take the edge off when I was ready to give
up. I was encouraged and finally, by 10:00, I was fully dilated. After two
hours of pushing, I asked for a c-section. Baby was posterior and I was
exhausted. The doctor confirmed that she was still too high for any type of
instrument assist. At 1:08 am, we welcomed our second child into our lives. I
was not tied to the table, I was able to touch my baby and see her face. I
heard her cry and I knew, this time was different. I was allowed to nurse her
in the recovery room. I was given the opportunity to bond with my child. I did not feel robbed.
On August 31, 2013, I had a
failed VBAC. It was also one of the most empowering experiences of my life. I
still believe that with more time, I could have accomplished a VBAC, but I do
not regret my decision to have another surgery. This time it was MY decision
and I proved to myself that my body was not broken. I learned much about
myself, I learned that I can.
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