We became pregnant with baby #4 nearly 3 years after the birth of baby #3. My husband felt that 3 children was enough for him and the c-section was a difficult recovery for all of us. Life was good, we had a little bit of balance and our kids were finally all potty trained! But I was starting to feel that a large family was more of what I wanted, starting to feel like we were still trying to control this life that ultimately God is in control of! It had been years since we had discussed birth control and our youngest was just getting out of the cute toddler stage. So we decided that it was time for another one and this time, NO c-section!
As I've mentioned before, there are only 3 local doctors who are capable of c-sections, and 2 of them prefer not to do vbacs, and state law prevents midwives from attending vbacs. The third doctor is not my favorite, but he had done my c-section and had been suprisingly compassionate when I had a concern or question about the incision site. After seeing my family practitioner for the first 2 trimesters, I was finally turned over to doctor #3, who agreed to attend my vbac.
Visiting him for appointments was awful. I mean TERRIBLE. He was fairly impersonal, offered up no advice or reassuring, typical "this is what you should expect" conversations, nothing. Getting him to just affirm anything was painful. I was stressed and uncomfortable with the idea of him attending and his inattentiveness only made it worse. I actually called my doctor and cried on the phone about how unhappy I was going to appointments there! She listened, but her only advice was to tough it out, he was the best and he would allow me to vbac. I was so frustrated, knowing that he was my only option.
Finally, on Monday, at 40 weeks and no active labor (I had thinned, but only dilated to 1-ish), the doctor did a pelvic exam to see where we were. Then attempted to strip my membranes. Talk about uncomfortable! I don't remember him asking my permission, he just shoved his hand in further and told me thats what he was doing! I went home and waited that day and another, and finally, on Wednesday morning at 5 am, my water broke. I had been instructed that it was "vital" that I get to the hospital because I was vbac-ing. Why? "There's a risk of infection if you walk around with your waters broken". PSsssh! And the risk what, magically goes away when I walk thru the door at the hospital? Ha! The risk comes from having a million strangers sticking their fingers up there, trying to figure out what's going on!!
I checked in at about 8 am, having no solid contractions, and sat hooked up to machines for most of the day. The nurses suggested I go walk the halls for a while. Walk. Walk back and forth, down the 200 feet of hallway available to me. That's going to help. I expressed my irritation to my husband and chose instead to sit in bed, attempting manually start labor by expressing milk. My contractions would get started and then the nurses would come in and I would stop, and the contractions would stop, because I was embarrassed to do that in front of anyone. Visitors popped in, all asking "how's it going?" It's not. Please go away. Nurses would come in, reminding me that the hospital (and the doctor) had to keep a surgical team on standby during my labor and that if things didn't get up and moving by 8 pm, the doctor would administer Pitocin. Like reminding me of that would push me into labor!
At last, the shift change came and I got a new nurse. She asked me about my day, my labor and my thoughts. I told her about the expressing and how it helped with contractions. She offered to bring me an electric pump to help. How I wished she had been on duty that morning! I felt a moment of support! I told her that I was extremely against getting pitocin. I was immediately let down - she repeated the threats of the other nurses and the doctor. I turned to my husband after she left and threatened to divorce him if he let the doctor give me pitocin against my will. I had seen women get pitocin and I knew that was not how women should deliver babies! The woman in the next room was screaming and it was a pitocin scream.
8 pm came and the doctor appeared. Another check, another discussion about labor not progressing how they wanted it to. Another reminder that the surgical team was on standby. I looked at the doctor and told him "I do not want pitocin." He kind of shrugged and said that was my only option, repeating yet AGAIN the "if we wait, your waters... blah blah blah". I was on the verge of tears, but at 9 pm, they inserted an i.v. and started the pitocin.
I was uncomfortable from the start - going from no contractions to what I would call a 5 in under 15 minutes. A dear friend came in to visit just after they had started the pitocin and I found it difficult to focus or talk during contractions, the whole time fighting the tears of frustration at having my personal wishes completely ignored. By the time she left, I sat up on my bed and felt like I needed to pee, so asked my husband to help me up and get to the bathroom. Thats when things really picked up. I remained frozen on the edge of the bed as the contractions climbed quickly up to an 8, the whole time insisting that I needed to go to the bathroom. The nurses tried to help me, but all I could think about was "THIS IS NOT HOW LABOR SHOULD BE!!!" I started to insist they turn off the pitocin and they at first refused. One of the nurses called for the doctor and he came in to check me, making me lay back. He said I was at an 8 or 9 and left to get his scrubs on. By the time he came back, I was beside myself with pain and the contractions were unbearable.
I started to feel an unnatural pushing sensation, much more intense than my first 2 deliveries, coupled with intense pain. I could tell that things were going way too fast and I remember screaming and praying in tandem during those contractions. Finally, the table front dropped and everyone was in position, the bed was inclined to help me sit up and I was informed it was time to push. I don't know how long it took or how many pushes, but I remember that this was the hardest delivery I had gone through and that the pushing took far more work. My eyes had burst blood vessels from the strain and I remember my lips going numb because I was being told to push harder. If it is possible to be angry at your doctor (and nurses and husband) while giving birth, this is what it is like.
Thankfully, my son was delivered just fine at 11 pm. His cord was unusually short, something the doctor commented on immediately, while laying him onto my stomach and seeing to the afterbirth. He weighed in at 8# 6 oz, 19 inches, by far my smallest baby. I tore a little during delivery and received some stitches (which I later had my family practitioner see too, since I had been over stitched, leaving me with a weird, painful pulling sensation in my perineum). My son was content and nursed immediately. After everything was cleaned up and he was ready to leave, the doctor looked at the clock and said to me with a wink, "Looks like I'll be home before midnight after all! Tell the team they can go home." HA. Glad I could be convenient for everyone!
I was so relieved it was all over and so thankful to see my own doctor come in to check on me after he left. She offered to do my postpartum check ups and we agreed this was best.
We were moved to another room, in the old wing that I hated, but that had thankfully been remodeled and turned into a dedicated maternity recovery wing. It was quiet and private and each room had a private bathroom! My husband went home to be with our other boys and get some rest himself. The baby and I slept and I woke in the wee hours of the morning, restless and wanting to just nurse and hold my baby. He slept for what seemed like an eternity. The delivery must have been very hard on him as well. We received visitors sporadically throughout the day and thankfully, the hospital discharged me that evening. Going home was the best part of the ordeal!
It wasn't long after his birth that I decided I would never have another hospital delivery. Can you blame me? I felt so violated and ignored. I felt pushed into what I saw as a violent delivery and I believe it has played a big part in my son's personality, one that I describe as angry and frustrated. The first year was hard for us both! I know what a good delivery is like, what a "normal, healthy" should be like. Why would I want to deliver any other way? Having my membranes stripped was key in how things went. My body was not ready to deliver and I was pushed into having pitocin, by a doctor that I wasn't comfortable with.
I did come away from this last birth with some big revelations of God's hand in the process: how our son was smaller than any of his brothers, allowing for an easier delivery; how his cord was extremely short, preventing the possibility of it wrapping like all the others. Had his cord wrapped or had he been much bigger, a fast, violent delivery could have seriously hurt him. I really believe God created him just the way he needed to be for this delivery. Only He could know how events would play out. I am so thankful for that! I trust that our choice to deliver at home is part of His plan and I feel lead to do it.
Thanks for reading!
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