When Things Don't Go As Planned - Trinity's Birth Story!

SHE'S HERE!!!!!

Everyone knows that giving birth is basically a wildcard.  Your baby could plop out of you while you're walking through the hospital doors, or it could take 60 hours and a C-Section before you get to hold your little bundle. You could have a smooth, uneventful birth, or one fraught with complications and worry. Your little one could show up three weeks early, or you could go two weeks past your due date.  One thing that everyone can count on, though, is that things will not go how you thought they would go.

We knew this going in, so we tried to keep a completely open mind.  We were against having interventions done unnecessarily, but we were open to the fact that sometimes these kinds of things (C-sections, episiotomies, etc.) ARE highly necessary.  We wanted a "natural" (unmedicated) childbirth experience, but we were aware that sometimes, hours and hours into labor, an epidural could be the difference between relaxing enough for a vaginal birth, or becoming too exhausted and requiring a C-section.  Most notably, though, we were hyper aware that our birth center birth might become a hospital birth.  We were really really hoping that that wouldn't be the case, but we were mentally prepared to give birth in the hospital if the birth center happened to be closed the day we went into labor.

What we weren't mentally prepared for was what actually happened--and of course!  Isn't that what we knew was going to happen all along?!  We thought we had our mind opened to all of the possibilities, but alas, our birth story was NEVER something that I thought would happen.

It all started when my water broke on Thursday at work as I stood up to go to lunch.  It was just a little trickle, not a gush like in the movies.  Because it was such a small amount, yeah, I thought I'd peed myself a little bit (gross but yes, a fact of pregnant life haha!)  We went home so that I could change, and then Phil and I headed to Market Basket, where I felt yet another little trickle walking through the doors.  I told him that I needed to go to the bathroom so that I could put on a pad.  Sure enough, a few minutes later as we were passing the prepared foods section, suddenly I felt like I lost about a cup of water!  Not a huge gush but DEFINITELY a gush in my book!!  I was so glad that I'd put on a pad because if you know me, you know that my water breaking in the grocery store was my #1 concern for the last two weeks of pregnancy, haha!  (At least I predicted that part with some accuracy!)

Unfortunately, as excited as we were that we were about to meet our daughter, my water breaking had us a little uneasy.  I wasn't experiencing any contractions at all.  This is what's called PROM--premature rupture of membranes.  And in this country, if your water breaks before you're actually in labor, you're on the clock.  If you don't go into full blown labor within 48 hours, you will be induced.  This was scary to us for a few reasons-- one, because being induced when your body isn't ready to drop a baby makes labor more difficult and more painful.  An unanesthetized labor would be pretty much out of the question ( I assume.  I ain't that tough.)  Two--because even though the birth center was open for another 48 hours before being closed for the week, I would have to be in the hospital to be induced.  So we felt like we were on the clock for more reason than one, which was a lot of pressure.  And lastly-- we knew from our Bradley class and from our research that the 48 hour time limit was an arbitrary number doctors in the US impose on people to try to prevent infection in the mother and child.  Most other countries in the world do not have any time limits, and will only take some sort of action if the mother actually does start to show signs of infection (low grade fever, etc.) or if the amniotic fluid levels become dangerously low (which was my primary concern.)

We headed up to Beverly to see the midwife at the birth center, who did some tests on the fluid to see if it actually was amniotic fluid and not something else (Pee.  Lol.)  The first test came back negative for amniotic fluid, and had me feeling like an incontinent idiot.  The second test came back inconclusive, which made me feel a little less idiotic.  The third test came back positive, which made me feel like a very smart but confused idiot (and still a bit incontinent).  The midwife said that because the tests were pretty much inconclusive, that we were going to be on the clock.  I had two days to go into labor, or I would be induced with... wait for it.... Cytotec.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! (Please see my last post for details on why not!)

I literally felt my heart racing.  I was begging her to ask the OB if we could just use Pitocin, which is still scary but at least it's FDA approved for pregnant women and infants and doesn't have a list of adverse effects the length of my arm which include DEATH by hemorrhage (horrible)!!  She said no.  This is protocol, and there would be no getting around it.

Well, I got around it.  Tee hee.

Later that night, when I still wasn't feeling any contractions (just like I was losing enough liquid to fill a swimming pool), Phil suggested that we call our Bradley teacher and ask her what to do.  I was numb and didn't think it would help, but I agreed.  This chick is a life saver, and I really owe her a lot for the great birth experience I had.  She was on vacation with her family, and yet she still took the time to talk to us and hear our situation, and then call around to see if there was anyone who could help us.  One of her doula friends recommended a midwife who was somewhat famous for helping couples in the 11th hour.  Her name was Nancy, and we gave her a call that night.

Nancy Wainer is a cute older lady who has been a midwife for 21 years and delivered upwards of 2000 babies.  She actually coined the term "VBAC" and she herself was one of the first VBAC patients in the Boston area.  (Before the 18th OB she asked would agree to let her try a VBAC, all Boston area OBs were telling patients that they would certainly die if they tried to give birth vaginally after having had a C-section.  Nancy knew it wasn't true because she'd practiced in Europe, where VBACs were very popular.  Still, how brave and certain do you have to be to volunteer yourself to be the first person in the area to try a VBAC when 17 doctors refused to try it and told you you'd die if you did it?!)  She is also writing her 3rd book, and was planning to take August off to focus on writing.  The Friday we called her, she had been planning to go out of town for the weekend, but couldn't because her car needed to be looked at.  God cleared her schedule just in time for us to roll in, leaking everywhere!

On Saturday around noon (exactly 48 hours since my water broke) instead of being at the hospital getting set up to be induced, I was sitting on a puppy pee pad on Nancy's nice cream colored couch while we asked about how much it would be to buy a blowup birth tub, which so happened to be the last one she had in stock.  We were going to do this--have a baby in our house.  In a blow up baby pool.

Like the crazy people do.

Despite knowing that the 48 hour limit is arbitrary, I really started to get nervous when I still wasn't having contractions all day on Friday.  The hospital had checked baby's heart rate and fluid level via ultrasound (which I know can be very off) and everything was great.  Nancy had checked her fluid level with her hands (which I trusted more than the ultrasound, tbh) and told me that if I started to look less round and was able to see the faint outline of a baby, that's how you can tell that fluid levels are too low.  I was taking my temperature every 90 seconds or so, and never got a reading over 98 degrees, so I knew I wasn't getting an infection (just being a weirdo with a super low body temperature.)

Then, late on Friday night, I started to feel something!  Contractions--yay!

They didn't feel bad to me at all.  I made a point to smile through each one, and decided that if I smiled during contractions and said only nice things, like "thank you God for this great productive contraction!" that I wouldn't feel any pain, only "sensations."

Smiling through a contraction with the help of my fuzzy brown doula

By Saturday evening things really picked up, and Nancy and her two helpers arrived around 10pm.  Phil had filled up the baby pool with a hose from the yard hooked onto the washing machine hookup (in true hillbilly home birth fashion), and it was sitting there in our living room with the cats staring at it doubtfully.  I was glad that I hadn't hired a doula, because between my mom's quiet and reassuring presence, Phil's heroic assistance, and Honey Boo Boo's face licking, I really had all the support that I needed, and then some.

The birthin' tub.  

*Must say this with a thick hillbilly twang*

I'm going to spare you the details of the actual birthing experience, other than to say that I DEFINITELY stopped smiling and thinking only nice thoughts after a few hours.  I'm pretty sure the whole neighborhood did, haha!  Those ding dang "sensations" were really super intense!!!  I just don't know any other way to describe them.  I wasn't in pain, technically, I just felt this strong feeling of pure desperation.  Like, I never once thought "I need drugs," but I did think "get this baby out of me NOW" on a few different occasions (like every single second from about 3am to 9:38am when she actually, thankfully, came out.)

This is intense.  I am no longer smiling.

I want to give credit where credit is due, and to point out that Phil was an absolute champion.  I had back labor, which means that I felt the contractions more intensely near my tailbone and not in my lower abdomen.  When Phil applied pressure to my tailbone, I really just felt my body contracting (sensationing?) and it wasn't terrible at all.  When he didn't, I was basically a crying puddle of, um, sensation.  So, he did.  For 11.5 hours straight, my husband pushed on my lower back until it was literally purple and his hands were shaking.  He was concerned that I was bruised, but let me tell you, that was the best feeling bruise I've ever had.  Phil's constant, unwavering help was the difference between a good experience and what would have been a completely different story.

Resting moments before she arrived!

So, we had our daughter in a baby pool in our living room.  When she emerged, she gave a little yell, and went straight onto my chest, where she got quiet, LIFTED HER HEAD, and looked up at us with big dark eyes.  She was so aware and alert!  She wasn't purple or blue like a lot of babies--in fact, she had rosy little cheeks and red lips.  She latched onto the breast within the first 10 minutes of life.

It's true what they say--seeing our daughter, holding her, marveling at her strength and vigor--it makes all of it worth it.  All of it.

Every back labor-y contraction.  Every moment spent worrying that we were making the wrong decision.  Every moment of morning sickness.  Every piece of sushi I wasn't able to eat, and every cup of coffee I wasn't able to drink.  All of that, and more.  Every sleepless night spent thinking that we must be losing the baby.  Every tear cried for the baby we did lose.  Every negative pregnancy test, and every month spent waiting and wishing, feeling hopeful and then feeling hopeless.

My prayer is that everyone who is praying right now for their own tiny bundle will feel this feeling.  That it was all worth it.  The memories will always remain, but the pain of wanting this so badly will someday be replaced by the joy of caring for one of God's most beautiful creatures.  And wow, it really is a joy.  Every middle of the night diaper change--joy.  Every time she won't let me put her down so that I can cook dinner--joy.  Every single feeding, even the first few when it felt like my nipples were being scraped off with sandpaper--JOY!  The most wonderful thing (maybe the only wonderful thing) about infertility is that you will NEVER take these moments for granted.  Sometimes I will start to get grumbly, thinking about how tired I am, or how cranky she is, etc., but that feeling disappears when I remember who she is.

She's our daughter.  Our baby.  After so many prayers, and such a long time...

She's here.

The first photo.  

Look at those rosy cheeks!!

      
PS - Ask us anything you want about home birth!!  Yes-- I'd do it again in a heartbeat!  I'm convinced that the whole water breaking fiasco was God's way of helping us to avoid what might have been a traumatic time at the hospital.  After all--when Trinity was being born, Nancy exclaimed--  "Look!  The amniotic sac is still in tact!" right before it burst open with a pop (Phil's favorite part of the labor, haha!) When the placenta was delivered, Nancy showed me the two amniotic sacs attached to it.  I know from the Harmony test that we took that Trin was a single pregnancy from the beginning, so the two amniotic sacs were just a fluke.  I like to imagine that God wanted to take extra special care with Trinity because of all of our prayers, and so He double bagged her!  The moral of the story is that I was going to be induced for no reason, because the sac holding the baby hadn't even broken!!  This makes me feel like we 100% made the right decision choosing to give birth at home.  God sure works in mysterious ways, doesn't He?!

PSS - Our story is also going to be in Nancy's book!  How cool!

Trinity today, at almost 6 weeks old and 12 lbs...I love hanging out with my little chubby bunny!

          For this child I prayed, and the Lord has granted me the desire of my heart.  1 Sam 1:27