Birth Stories

Oct

09

Do I have to tell my story to start healing from my birth trauma?

part 2 on ‘birth stories’ and ‘birth truths’ – you can read last week’s post on ‘Can I understand the truth of my birth from my notes?’ here

There’s a common assumption that to begin to heal from birth trauma you need to tell your story. Tell it, write it, share it. Go through your notes and each moment with a fine tooth comb. Analyse it until you’ve captured the objective ‘truth’ of what happened. For some people, this feels good – especially at first.

For others, it just hurts. Hurts too much to do it. Yet to get help, to start to feel better, we need to tell our story, right?

Wrong.

There are times when telling our story is not the way forward. Our bodies know what we need. If your gut is screaming to you, “don’t do this!” then trust that feeling. That is your instinct telling you that now is not the time or the place to share this story.

Often birth traumas are stories of violation. No one identical to another. But so often of violation and betrayal. When someone tells a woman she *must* tell her story, against her will and better judgment, this is not healing but further violation. Telling a story when you are not ready can be re-traumatising.

Birth stories are sacred stories. They are not for pulling out of people unwillingly, or for treating casually. The ‘fine tooth comb’ analysis of events is actually only a part of the story…and not the richest part at that.

There are many ways to bring healing to birth, including without talking, or certainly without telling more than what feels right to tell in any given moment.

True healing is a journey and when you feel the time is right to share your story, you will let it come forth, in the context that is right for you, in the way that is right for you. And when that happens, the telling of your story can bring healing.

It’s not a process that can be forced or hurried. If it is, it will not bring the same response in the teller. In reality, our birth story is not one story – it is many stories – and our understanding of our own story deepens and evolves over time. Pam England talks about the ‘birth story gates’ each individual may pass through on the return from the ordeal. Not everyone will pass through each of the gates. It is possible to get stuck, locked into one stage or version of the story.

Part of the problem with traumatic stories is that we get locked into a particular part of the narrative, trapped, unable to escape from a dead end of a particular sequence or vision of ourselves. This is where a skillful listener can be helpful. When telling your story stops feeling so good or effective, a skilful listener can help you find a way through the dangers of getting trapped within repetition, the trap of stagnant beliefs about ourselves and what we are telling ourselves about ourselves as a result of what happened to us. This simply reinforces the trauma, and feeds our most unhelpful personal dramas.

And sometimes before it’s time to tell the story, we need to find something else. Tap into our own strength, to rediscover our personal power. To have healed enough in the present to be ready to look back into the ordeal and find the way through. This is where healing work can be invaluable.

Now over to you – how did you know it was the right time and the right place to tell your story? Were you ever drawn into telling your story in a way that wasn’t helpful? What would you say to other mothers in this position?

Are you seeking healing from a difficult or traumatic birth experience? Or are you looking for a new way to approach your birth story and bring healing to it? Contact me for a free 30 minute consultation to explore whether a Birth Story Healing session or one of the Heart Healing for Mothers programmes could be right for you.

Oct

02

Can I understand the ‘truth’ of what happened in my birth from my notes?

Birth / Birth Stories / Connections / Healing / Postnatal Recovery / 8 comments

I’m feeling pretty strongly these days about what I’m hearing from women regarding their birth stories. Not what happened in the birth, but what is happening now, after, when they go to look for help to understand that elusive question ‘why?’ – why did my birth happen the way it did?’

This week and next I will address two of the ways birth and women’s power in relation to their birth is too frequently stolen from women again, after the fact.

One of the ways this happens too often is in the belief that women don’t know what happened in their births. Really?

They know. Women remember. My clients remember. They can’t be that unique or unusual. They remember the words spoken, the emotions in the room. They remember who trusted them and who didn’t, who was kind and who was impatient…or even agressive, bullying or ill-intentioned. That to my mind holds truth. Who benefits from the fiction that women are too ‘away with the fairies’ to know what happened, that the authoritative ‘truth’ comes from some outside source? It’s pretty clear who.

It’s time for those who are working with women after birth to stop perpetuating the disempowering fiction of birth that the truth of a woman’s experience is somehow in the official medical records which so very rarely match up with women’s experience of their own birth. By all means we can support women in understanding the narrative that unfolds in the notes. But not at the expense of the truth of her own experience.

If you can’t see the video above, you can watch it here.

Truth: your notes are *not* your birth story. Your notes are not the *truth* of your birth.

They are not the ‘accurate, objective story’. They are someone else’s interpretation of events – sometimes accurate, often not.

The someone (or someones) who record events in the notes typically have some investment in what is written down – the investment of protecting themselves from liability or criticism from their peers, their superiors, their patients. Even the most benevolent care provider has some level of investment in what is written down. The notes are a particular map, a narrative geography that may have much, little or nothing to do with a mothers experience – her strength, her vulnerability, her experience of birth.

Truth: Complications in birth do not always come from a physical problem, nor do they necessarily come from anything the mother or baby has done or not done.

It’s often difficult if not impossible to get to the heart of what ‘truly’ happened – the truth is complex, full of the interactions of people and events and the stories that result from their interactions.

What is the ‘truth’ of your birth? There is no one truth. In most cases, there is no one ultimate reason why.

There are truths, stories. Each person who participated in the birth will have their own verson of events. Each woman’s understanding of her own birth will in most cases evolve over time. Some of these truths and stories do not become clear until after the event, sometimes long after.

The great authentic truth of a mother’s story is found in those moments of clarity – her heightened senses and awareness picking up the word or phrase, the emotion and even thoughts of those around her. Her inner experience. Not in a number or time (and these numbers are so often inaccurate, subjective, produced to fulfil the narrative required by the medical establishment).

So, mamas, please, do not let what is written in your notes take away the truth of your own experience or cause you to doubt yourself.

It is a huge step to get a copy of your notes, to go through them with a midwife or on your own. It can be important, enlightening. But it is never never the ultimate truth of your experience.

What are your experiences? Did you get a copy of your notes? What was it like for you to go through them? Did you feel like you found the truth?

Or as a midwife, doula or other supporter of mothers, do you help women go through their notes? How do you find a balance with the issue of ‘truth’? Please share in the comments below!

Birth Story Healing sessions are now available! Contact me to learn more about how the sessions work and whether it might be right for you.

Jul

13

Guest post: A mother shares her experience of birth trauma and road to recovery

Birth Stories / Cesearean Birth / Guest Post / Home Birth Transfer / Midwifery / Postnatal Recovery / 0 comments

Birth trauma is something that’s at the forefront of my mind a large percentage of the time. If someone had asked me about birth trauma 4 years ago, I wouldn’t have known what they meant. I possibly would have thought that it related to the death of a baby during labour. I thought the circumstances had to be that extreme for a lady and her family to have suffered from birth trauma.

I’ve been working with pregnant women in various ways for 11 years now and yes I’ve seen women who have suffered from birth trauma but it was obviously something I needed to experience personally so that I could fully grasp the implications, and start my journey to becoming an NLP (Neuro Linguistic Programming) and EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique) Practitioner.

I am a mum of 7 and I have had different birth experiences with each of my children. I’ve had vaginal births and caesarean sections. I have suffered birth trauma once and whilst I can look back now and see what a learning journey it took me on, at the time I wanted to die.

I struggled to conceive my 6th child, well I didn’t struggle to conceive her but I struggled to hang onto the pregnancy. My daughters conception was preceded by 2 miscarriages so by the time I was pregnant with my daughter I was elated and somewhat fearful. The pregnancy was perceived to be high risk. I had essential hypertension, was a grand multip, had had 2 previous caesarean sections and I was overweight. An obstetricians nightmare!

I decided quite early on in my pregnancy that I would be having a VBA2C (vaginal birth after 2 caesareans). The obstetrician didn’t agree so we parted company. Towards the middle of my pregnancy I decided that I would have a homebirth, however it was clear that the NHS would not be happy to support this so I decided to hire an Independent Midwife. I ended up hiring a midwife that wasn’t my first choice but because of the area I live in, she was my only choice.

My pregnancy progressed as it should. I had a 40 week deadline as I’d developed gestational diabetes in the third trimester. It was really a case of increased insulin resistance! It was controlled with diet and metformin. I was apprehensive about this 40 week deadline as my previous babies hadn’t been born until 42 weeks so my midwife suggested I visit a homeopath. I did and the result was that I chose the 13 th of Febraury 2009 as the date I would birth my daughter. I would be 39 weeks and 5 days pregnant on that date and it was to be Friday the 13th, perfect day to have a baby.

The 12th of February arrived and I was summoned to the hospital by my new consultant who was getting tetchy. He offered me ARM (Artificial rupture of membranes), I politely declined but agreed that I’d come back and take him up on his offer the following Monday. Before leaving the hospital I had my first contraction. I knew my daughter was on her way.

It had started snowing and I drove home slowly, with my IM following behind in her car. When we got to my home I suggested my midwife go home and get organised as I was sure I’d be calling her out in a few hours. I didn’t tell anyone at home that my daughter was beginning her journey and it was so exciting and special. I had hired a heated birth pool and I kept rubbing the sides of it, knowing that my daughter would be born in it later that night. I’ll never forget the smell of that pool, never.

My contractions started hotting up in the evening after my other children had gone to bed. I bounced on my birthing ball and eventually let my husband, brother and friends know that I was in labour. There was much excitement and I had 2 men fussing about what they should be doing!

At 9pm my hind waters broke. I didn’t realise that it was my hind waters so I phoned my IM and asked her to return. She lived an hour away and it was snowing heavily at this stage. My IM suggested I lie on my bed on my left hand side until she reached me as I’d previously birthed very quickly once my waters had gone. Off I went to my bedroom where I put on my hypnobirthing music and floated away to another world. Hours passed, my contractions becoming more intense.

My IM arrived and was noisy and turned all the lights on. She insisted on giving me a vaginal examination to assess progress. I was 3 cm, no big deal for me. I had previously gone from 2cm to delivering baby in less than an hour. My blood pressure was up and down as is normal in labour. My IM was getting tetchy.

The second IM arrived and was wonderful, hushed voice, lights off, soothing and reassuring. I continued contracting in the peace and quiet of my bedroom. The first IM (the one I’d hired) came to my bedroom at 2am, insisted on another VE, said I was still 3cm, not progressing. She checked my blood pressure, it was elevated. She suggested a transfer to hospital. I was very tired and had a most awful headache so I consented. I had no fear about going to the hospital as I’d made plans with my consultant. I knew that if it was blood pressure that brought me to the hospital, I would have an epidural and continue labouring. The second IM suggested I go in the pool as it would lower my blood pressure, the first IM said I wasn’t allowed as I wasn’t dilated enough.

The ambulance arrived and I was contracting strongly every 2 to 3 minutes. The ambulance technician spent the hours journey telling me not to push! We reached the hospital and I was shown to a room. I was now under NHS care but my IM was present as my advocate. The NHS midwife examined me and declared me to be 5cm. The registrar spoke to my consultant on the phone and offered me an epidural. My IM asked for us to have a few moments alone at this stage. Once the NHS staff left the room she declared that I was not 5cm at all but still only 3. She told me that my daughters head was still high and that must mean there was scar tissue stopping her head from descending. She told me a whole heap of stuff and finished it off by saying that I must know myself that something was wrong, after all I’d never been in labour this long before. She suggested a repeat caesarean and I consented thinking that she knew best.

I started crying before I went in for the caesarean and didn’t stop crying for months. The following day when my head was clear I was able to rationally think about the events of the previous night. My IM had manipulated me into consenting to a caesarean section despite knowing how much I wanted to give birth vaginally. I blamed myself of course, if I had been stronger, if I had ignored her, if I had trusted my instincts and not hired her in the first place. I felt like a complete failure, I can’t tell you the amount of times I apologised to my new baby daughter.

I discharged myself 24 hours after my daughter was born, I went home to the scene of my failed homebirth, to the smell of the pool, the sight of it, my bedroom the way I’d left it. I wanted to die, I’ve never known emotional pain like it before. I cried all day and night, family and friends trying to console me, telling me I at least had a healthy baby. That was no comfort to me, in fact it made it worse because it drew attention to the fact that I’d let her down in the most basic way possible. My IM completely abandoned me, she visited twice, both times telling me ridiculous lies. She could see I was distressed, this she documented and yet she left me to it. It was all the proof I needed of her own feelings of guilt about how she’d manipulated me and let me down.

Time moved on, there were official investigations, court appearances. I thought it would help ease the pain, it didn’t. I then in my demented state decided that having another baby would “fix” everything. My husband wasn’t sure but I couldn’t see any other way to heal this awful pain. I fell pregnant easily. It was a twin pregnancy to begin with but then one died. OK, maybe this pregnancy wasn’t such a good idea, the pain is increasing.

My son managed to stay with me, we reached the second trimester and I felt positive that my plan would work. I hired a wonderful IM and a doula, I wasn’t taking any chances this time. I would now be having a homebirth following 3 caesarean sections. The pregnancy was lovely, easier than previous ones. I felt a close connection to my unborn son. I booked my heated birth pool once again. At the routine 20 week scan I learnt that I had a low lying placenta. No problem I thought, that will move right out of the way. As the pregnancy progressed I became extremely fearful that I wouldn’t have my longed for homebirth. I was becoming distressed and all I could see was a replay of my daughters birth. I needed help. I tried talking therapy. That made it worse, I didn’t want to talk about it. I tried hypnosis, again it didn’t help. I was getting desperate, I was now 29 weeks pregnant. I had read about EFT and thought it sounded like a good idea.

I made an appointment to see a practitioner locally. When I arrived at her home I felt stupid, like this was such a ridiculous idea and of course it wouldn’t work, after all, nothing else had. I sat down and was asked about the feeling I wanted to be rid of. I started with fear, the practitioner did the tapping, I said the words. I soon got over my initial feeling of stupidity. It was such a release, the tapping, the words, it brought the next feeling and the next feeling to the forefront. We whizzed through them, working the feelings until they barely existed. The memories were there but they had been freed from the feelings. It was amazing, I could remember my daughters birth without crying. I at last could begin to forgive myself and the midwife involved.

I continued with the EFT sessions for a few weeks because my current pregnancy had started to get complicated and I was now faced with having to have a caesarean section due to a complete placenta praevia. I had a lot of fear about the operation itself and I had to address the feelings that brought up. At this point I had to accept that my original plan was extremely flawed and rather than heal the previous experience, I was now risking another little life. I think I can safely say that EFT saved my sanity and it enabled me to make the best choices possible for my unborn son.

I had my son at 35 weeks, I developed eclampsia and he was born as a matter of urgency. It wasn’t the healing homebirth that I’d envisaged but the journey that we made together was healing. I learnt so much and know that I needed both of those birth experiences to enable me to truly understand birth trauma and it’s subsequent healing.

I learnt so much that I have since gone on to train as a NLP and EFT practitioner. I felt that I needed to give something back to the many women that I meet. Most of my doula clients are women who have suffered birth trauma. I wanted to be able to help them and their families. I chose NLP because I liked the fact that it’s non content based therapy. Of course that doesn’t work for everyone, some people like talking therapy but others have reached the stage I had. They don’t want to keep talking about their pain, they want the pain to be gone. NLP works so quickly, the feelings that have overwhelmed us for so long can be gone in minutes. We will always have memories but now they are free of pain.

As a practitioner I love that I have options to give my clients. Having options means that we are always in control and we are effectively choosing how we move on from the things in our lives that have caused us difficulty in some way. For me there is no better reward than seeing a client leave me with a spring in their step and a smile on their face, it’s such a contrast to how they entered my home.

I would like to see NLP and EFT offered routinely by the NHS to pregnant and birthing women. The difference it could make has the potential to impact positively on the lives of the next generation.

Kate McCarthy-Harris is a mum of 7 living in rural Lincolnshire, working as a birth doula, antenatal teacher, placenta specialist and NLP Practitioner. Passionate about pregnancy, childbirth and informed choices.

If you would like to learn more about EFT or NLP, or healing from birth trauma, get in touch with Kate, you contact her via her website Primitive Birth

Jul

01

Mama Leigh’s Birth Story

Birth / Birth Stories / Guest Post / Hospital birth / 2 comments

“For those and for so many acts both evident and subtle which have fueled the illusion of
separateness: we forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.”
(R. Eller-Isaacs)

Prenatal period
The question that has come up over and over for me, as I think about birth in general and
my own daughter’s birth, is if maternity care providers really have mothers’ and babies’
best interests at heart, why aren’t they following evidence-based practices? I had read about
the Farm and the amazing outcomes there – better than hospital outcomes – which made
me think that out-of-hospital birth could be safer than hospital birth for low-risk women. Of
course, there was still a remote chance of a medical emergency, so I thought I could kind of
game the system and give myself the best odds of having a safe birth: to have a “home birth”
in the hospital – no interventions as long as everything was going well, but at least be close
to the OR in the rare chance of needing it. Now I am starting to realize that going up against
the system is like David and Goliath, and here is why.

At the beginning of my pregnancy, I didn’t have any strong feelings about birth, other
than wanting to have the safest one possible. But learning more about possible scenarios,
hospital routines, and interventions, I quickly realized that I wanted a natural, unmedicated
birth as possible. We signed up for the Bradley method class and I read a lot about different
options. At a prenatal visit around 6 months, I brought my birth wishes document to my OB,
and she told me that I had to have an IV for the epidural (me: “I don’t want an epidural”),
if I had a slow labor I “wouldn’t be able to handle the pain” (what she probably meant was
that with a slow labor they would probably have blasted me with so much pitocin I wouldn’t
have been able to breathe), even though she had had 3 unmedicated births, but “only
because they were fast labors. You know, the doctors and nurses are there to help you, and
these drugs are extremely safe.” As a graduate student in Neuroscience I knew that it is
scientifically impossible to prove that something is “safe” – at best you can show that there
are no known adverse effects, or that one procedure is safer than another. I could see that
she was lying to me about the risks and benefits of drugs during childbirth. I was shocked
and felt belittled, and I never went back to Dr. Misogynist.

I transferred my care to a nurse-midwife with a very gentle manner who attends hospital
births, who believed in normal birth, and who stated didn’t have any problem with the
requests in my birth plan. She also took the time to listen to me and give me advice
during the prenatal visits. I was very happy to have switched. Then I hired a doula whom
I trusted deeply, and ordered a birthing pool to take with me to the hospital (to labor in).
Finally, having taken these steps, the anxiety dreams about being forced into unnecessary
interventions started to subside.

But as I reached 40, and then 41 weeks, my midwife began to pressure me a little bit to be
induced. This was extremely stressful for me as I knew that induction necessitated IVs (I
HATE needles), continuous monitoring, painful contractions, and a higher risk of C-section.
To top it off, my husband was commuting back and forth weekly between our home and
his new job 800 miles away. He had flown in on my due date, and had only one more week
before he had to go back to work.

We tried every possible natural way of starting labor, but nothing worked. Yet, I was
determined to remain positive no matter what! At my 41-week appointment (a Tuesday),
my midwife swept my membranes (I was 1cm dilated and 80% effaced) to get things going

(I wouldn’t have agreed to getting my water broken, but I figured the sweep was better than
pitocin) and sent me for an ultrasound and some more monitoring. Everything checked
out fine – baby was doing great, so they sent me home but “made” me book an induction
appointment for Thursday afternoon.

EARLY LABOR

We went out for a nice dinner and I started to have mild contractions 10-15 minutes apart.
I was very excited! I bought some castor oil, too as a last resort should Thursday come
with no progress. But my doula and my midwife warned me that they had seen unpleasant
effects of castor oil and not to take it – though I couldn’t imagine that those effects would be
worse than a pitocin induction. My husband was really freaked out about it, too, so I didn’t
take it. We walked around town after dinner and then when I got home, I got in the shower
and asked my husband to time the contractions (which were getting stronger), but he was
really tired and also feeling quite anxious. I went to bed.

I woke up at 5am Wednesday, feeling I was definitely in labor now. I started to bake
cookies, my labor project, which was great at keeping me distracted for a little while. Then
I went back to sleep, and got up at 9am. I took a dose of my oral antibiotics (because I
was GBS+). After having contractions 3-5 minutes apart for 1 hour, I called my doula and
said I might need her soon. She arrived mid-morning and we had a lovely time hanging
out – she diffused the tension, and the three of us had a really nice time walking around
the neighborhood and eating lunch together. During that time the contractions varied,
sometimes were 7-10 minutes apart, sometimes 5-6 minutes. The pain was completely
bearable. I rested again for an hour or so, then contractions were 2 minutes apart and
getting stronger, so we got ready for the hospital. The nurse checked me and told me that
I was only 2cm dilated, 80% effaced and -2 station. I was upset, but my doula had lots of
encouraging words. We went home to rest more. Thank goodness for that, as the next day
was going to be a very long one. I managed to sleep a few hours and then the contractions
were pretty strong again for an hour or two early that morning.

At the HOSPITAL
At 6:30am Thursday we went back to the hospital. I had already been in labor for a day and
half, but could have coped fine for awhile more at home – there were just three issues. A), I
was on the schedule to be induced that afternoon anyway, and I knew they couldn’t induce
me if I was already there in natural labor. B), my back hurt and I wanted to get into the
birthing pool, which I couldn’t set up at home because I needed it at the hospital for when
things got really intense, so that I could avoid using narcotic pain relief. There were a lot of
inductions on the schedule and I was afraid that I wouldn’t get one of the rooms that would
be big enough to put my pool in. C), My husband had to fly back to his job in 5 short days
and I was really eager to get this baby out and enjoy her first. I thought I could will her out…

I remember the twenty nursing students in the lobby as I entered the maternity ward
entrance to the hospital, asking if I was okay every time I had a contraction (had they
never seen anyone labor before?). One great thing about that hospital is that you don’t go
through triage when you arrive in labor – you just stop by the nursing station, give your
name, and they send you to your LD room. I had a very big room with plenty of room for
the pool. Enter nurse M., who seemed pretty laid back. I consented to be checked – only 2+
cm. I couldn’t believe it – a whole night of labor at home and I had barely progressed. But
the Bradley training helped so much with this – I was determined to be patient! And Nurse

M. had some great words of encouragement: “the goal is not 10! The goal is 4. The first 4
centimeters are the hardest, then things will go on their own.”

To my surprise, nurse M. also responded very positively when she saw my birth plan, and
was happy that I brought extra copies of it, which she distributed to other staff members.
We went through each item together, and she showed respect for my requests. I was
thrilled. She told me that her sister had had an unassisted home birth in Canada, so she
had an appreciation for the whole range of birth choices. She said no problem that I wanted
to eat and drink during labor, but I had to agree that it would automatically disqualify me
from having an epidural. No problem, I really didn’t want one anyway! Now I knew that she
wouldn’t pressure me to take the drugs. I felt relieved by this, too.

As requested in my birth plan, after the initial blood draw, they left a hep-lock and not an
IV. The nurse got me set up to receive the IV antibiotics at the same time as the “required”
15 minutes of fetal monitoring per hour – I sat on the birth ball during this time, so at least I
wasn’t flat on my back in the bed. The first dose was not too bad and the contractions were
not coming as strong as before. My midwife came in to check me around 9am and told me
that my friend A. from my childbirth class – who had switched to my midwife just a week
prior- was down the hall giving birth! I was excited for her and surprised, and envious, too
– she was 2 weeks before her due date and I was 10 days after mine! Why was this labor
soooo slow? The nurse told me to use nipple stimulation (also stipulated in my birth plan)
so I wouldn’t “have” to have pitocin, as my midwife wanted to speed things up already. I
was dead-set against the pitocin, as the nurse and I both knew I didn’t want to be constantly
hooked up to all those monitors.

We called my doula and she arrived about 11am. I don’t remember, but I must have allowed
another exam and I was about 3-4cm. The nipple stimulation had worked, without me
having to be in on the monitors as I would have had with pit! Things were starting to get
intense – I was so glad my doula and husband were getting the pool set up. I got into the
pool shortly around noon and was soooo happy and relaxed – my back pain was relieved
and I could barely feel the contractions. The water was a bit hot, though, and I felt bad but
I had to ask my birth team several times to add colder water. After about a half-hour it was
time to go back on the monitor. To avoid making me get back out of the pool, my nurse and
the (male!) nursing student who was helping her went searching around for a way to use
the Doppler under water, or check heart tones with a stethoscope. They were so genuine in
this – I really appreciated the gesture. Finally I did have to get out of the pool, as we were
not able to find a waterproof solution.

It had been 4 hours since my first dose of antibiotics so they started them again while
doing the monitoring. Baby’s heart tones looked great, but the monitor was uncomfortable.
This is where I really started get stressed out. The antibiotics really burned me at the IV
entrance site. I have very sensitive skin on my arms – it is even hard for me to find shirts
with seams that don’t irritate me. I burst into tears and cried to my nurse and my midwife
that the IV was hurting me more than the contractions. They said that shouldn’t be the case,
but couldn’t find anything “wrong” with the IV site. I started to feel this internal conflict
about being there at the hospital. Well, this is what I had chosen and now I had to suffer the
consequences. The nurse told me if I really didn’t want the heplock, she could take it out
after the antibiotics, but that if there were a real emergency she reserved the right to re-
start an IV very quickly and not necessarily nicely. She was clearly not threatening me– I felt
like she was just being honest. Later I realized that if there were that kind of emergency, lots

of things would be getting stuck in me not nicely and that would be a moot point about the
IV. I just didn’t know what to do. I mumbled something about keeping the heplock “just in
case for the baby”.

We decided to go for a walk down the hall and see our friends with their brand-new baby,
the ones from our childbirth class. I remember rushing out the door of my hospital room
so that my midwife wouldn’t come back and try to convince me to do another vaginal
exam yet. I knew that I hadn’t progressed in the past hour – I could feel it, and my midwife
was beginning to annoy me. I didn’t feel like she was being very supportive – if I could be
patient all this time, why couldn’t she? I could see that she was annoyed with me, too, which
made me feel even worse. I was also aware of the scientific data showing that stress can
slow down labor, so the whole situation was really bugging me.

The walk to the other wing of the ward did a world of good, and it was thrilling to see my
friend A. holding an actual baby! So there is actually something that comes out at the end.
Plus, she had an unmedicated birth, which she had hoped for. I knew I could do it, too! I was
re-energized!! The walking also helped, although I thought it was funny that hospital staff
kept stopping and asking me if was okay. I was just having contractions, duh. Anyway, every
mom in labor should get to visit her friends down the hall and see their newborn. It really
got things going for me.

At 1:40pm I was back in my room, and tried to decline an exam, but my midwife insisted.
I was 4+, 100% effaced, and zero station. I already knew I hadn’t progressed much since
two hours ago! Why couldn’t she just trust me that I knew how to listen to my body? I got
back in the pool to try to relax. That helped so much. After about 15 min I started to throw
up into those little bins. I was so worried that my husband would get sick – I knew he was
queasy about vomit in general, but he held up just fine. My doula convinced everyone to
leave us alone for another 40 minutes and I got back into the pool at 2:20 and was able to
relax again. I started using visualization techniques, from Birthing from Within and some
others I devised on my own. I was trying to imagine the contractions increasing in intensity
on an imaginary dial, while imagining that my PERCEPTION of the pain on the other hand
was decreasing on a second dial. It seemed to be working!

At 3pm my midwife came back again and I consented to another exam: 5-6cm and
very stretchy. I was feeling a little more encouraged now, and the pain was still totally
manageable. I opted to stay out of the pool as I felt that my blood pressure had dipped (I
didn’t need to be monitored to feel that) because the water was still too hot.

Here’s where my memory of exact sequence of events starts to be hazy, and the memory
of the emotions is very strong. I started to throw up a LOT. I actually didn’t mind – I could
feel that it was just my body pushing the baby down. Also I had been sneaking a lot of food
out of fear that I would later be deprived of food and drink. At my prenatal visit where we
discussed the birth plan, we had a deal about no IV solutions (except the antibiotic), unless
I was “throwing up all over the place”. Just my luck. I felt beholden to that deal now and my
midwife insisted on the continuous IV. It was such a hassle dragging that thing around and
my arm still hurt. I went to the bathroom a lot as that seemed to help me labor, but I hated
feeling chained up. Well, I felt like I had to play by their stupid rules now. I couldn’t go back
in the pool either, and my back hurt.

At 3:30 I got onto the bed on all fours. My doula wrote: “She likes double hip squeeze. I can

feel baby moving a lot from the back of pelvis. I think baby is posterior, trying to keep her
on knees with hips up and rocking and swiveling hips. Dad could feel the baby moving too,
through the back.”

At 5:09pm I got checked again – still 5-6cm and zero station. I knew from the Bradley class
that I could have just plateaued for a little while to give my body a rest, but I was feeling a
lot of pressure from the staff to progress faster. Then I started to feel very weird, almost
light-headed. I couldn’t think straight and I was angry about that – I hadn’t had any drugs,
what was going on? My doula reassured me that I was just tired from 2 days of labor. I
broke down and cried that I wasn’t ready to be a mother yet. I wouldn’t know how to take
care of a baby. She reminded me that I had been incredibly patient so far and therefore
would be a great mother. I felt a little better. I asked the nurse if the antibiotics in my IV
could be making me feel so loopy, but she said that wasn’t possible. I was still mad and
confused. I asked my doula if I was in transition, and she was like, yes, of course! So that’s
probably why I felt like I was going crazy. Knowing that also helped. (A year or two later
when I got the itemized bill for the hospital, I saw a charge for metaclopromide, which is
sometimes used to control vomiting during labor, and can make you feel loopy!! Yet there
was no order or record of this medication being administered to me during labor, so it
remains a mystery.)

By 6:30 I was at 8cm! Things had gotten so intense in the last hour. Secretly I was hoping
that they would just knock me out, put me under GA and pull out the baby. But I knew that
was too risky to ask for. I kept thinking about all the risks of all those drugs. Nope, not
worth the benefits. I wasn’t going to subject my body or my baby to that. I thought about
friends who had natural births and had no regrets. I knew I could do it if they had done it!
At the same time, I could finally understand now why some mothers would want pain relief!
Yet at that point I didn’t want any more needles. If an anesthesiologist had come in offering
an epidural, I was sure I would have run away screaming. I wanted to be left in peace a
little, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen. We continued nipple stimulation, which had
really been working well so far. My whole body was really tired and I couldn’t go back in the
pool with the IV etc. Every muscle in my back and legs was just exhausted. I read through
the letter we had written to the baby a few weeks before. I told our doula the name we had
chosen, and started to feel a bit better.

At 7:40pm, I allowed for the umpteenth exam- just anterior lip now! I wasn’t feeling any
urges to push, but my midwife said I had to because baby’s heart had started to beat so
fast – 180’s -190s during contractions. However, between contractions it went down to
160s and was just fine. The pushing was horrible, especially with my midwife’s fingers
on my cervix trying to push away the lip. I had read that pushing would feel so great in
natural birth, so I was disappointed. I was really straining, pushing so hard. I tried to use
the squatting bar on the bed, but after about an hour I just couldn’t hold up my own body
anymore. Too tired.

At 9pm my midwife called her backup OB because the baby didn’t appear to be descending
and heart rate was too high. I was petrified. No pain I had gone through in the last few hours
could equal the fear – of surgery and of something going wrong – that I felt when she left
the room several times to talk to the OB on the phone. He arrived at 9:30pm – I refocused
and devoted all my brain power to pushing. With every push I visualized the baby coming
out. I asked to push on all 4’s again or squatting, as I loved squatting so much during late
pregnancy and I knew it could help a lot. She said no because she “wouldn’t have enough

control then”, so I stayed in an semi-upright modified lithotomy position on the bed, with
my legs held back. My doula and husband held my legs and gave me ice chips. I asked for
a honey straw, but my midwife said no “just in case” I had to have anesthesia thereafter.
Everyone in the room was cheering me on. I didn’t know what the risks or benefits of using
oxygen were, but I felt I could barely breathe so I was self-administering oxygen at that
point. I felt pretty frustrated and couldn’t understand why this was happening – I hadn’t
had that infamous cascade of interventions, but still things were not going well. The baby
warmer beeped every couple of minutes, and I had a prime view of the clock from the bed.
Not helping!

The OB sat in the corner, and to my relief, said nothing and did nothing. I found out later
that he had the vacuum extractor ready. He didn’t need it though – at 10:01pm I pushed
out Baby C., kind of on my own, with my midwife pulling pretty hard on her shoulders. I
was so excited that she actually came out! Unfortunately my midwife felt she had to cut
an episiotomy, which then tore even more – came close to a 4th degree laceration. In my
prenatal visits she had told me that she rarely ever does them, so I felt confident that given
the present circumstances, it was truly necessary. I also found out later that when the OB
was called, the nurse had also brought in the C-section preparation bag. Thank goodness it
didn’t get used. I still cannot believe how close I came to having a C-section though…

POSTPARTUM
All day I had been on a slippery slope of losing control of what was happening to my body,
and this peaked right after the birth. I had written in my birth plan: “I plan on breastfeeding
immediately after baby is born. I would like to hold my baby and have assessments done while
my baby is in my arms if possible.~ Please delay weighing, footprints, & eye ointment until we
have had an hour to bond. ~ Please bathe baby in my room.~ Dad will stay with baby at all
times.” This was not WHO-designated Baby-Friendly Hospital though, and the staff didn’t
change their routine just based on my initial request.

There had been a shift change, and my wonderful nurse M. had gone home by now and
my midwife’s demeanor had totally changed from nice and supportive at prenatal visits
to all-business and also still annoyed with me. I never consented to the pitocin they used
to deliver the placenta, and I complained as she pushed hard on my abdomen to deliver
it faster. I was supposed to be holding my baby now and breastfeeding! What was going
on? No one was listening to me. I started babbling on about how this was like my Master’s
degree year… 9 months of hard work and really hard at the end… The “baby nurse” (with
whom I hadn’t talked at all, and who obviously never saw – or didn’t care about – my birth
plan) was over on the far side of the room doing the assessments and the bath. “Big hands
and big feet!” she called. I still had not really seen my baby. My husband was nearby, and
got to hold our baby and cut the cord after they collected the cord blood, which we were
banking. He was thrilled to hold the baby. My doula was busy putting the pool away. No one
was advocating for me. I had wanted to breastfeed right away and do skin-to-skin. I was so
tired of fighting for myself, I just resigned to the fact that there I was, we were both healthy,
and I hadn’t had a C-section. It took a long time to sew me up – apparently I had lost a lot of
blood, and I needed a lot of stitches to repair the laceration. I was so glad I had not asked for
an epidural – there is no way I could have pushed so effectively if I’d had one.

Baby C. was 8lbs 2oz, 21.5 inches long, with Apgars of 8/9. Apparently they had been quite
concerned about her because her heart rate had been so high, and they “had” to examine
her quickly after the birth. She was totally fine at 5 minutes after the birth. Then they just

took at advantage of the situation and didn’t return to her to me until 11:03pm, bathed and
dressed and swaddled like a sausage. I tried to feed her but I was suddenly exhausted and
I have flat nipples so it was hard to keep her latched on. She must have gotten at least a
little milk, as I had so much colostrum during labor. My doula tried to help me a bit with the
latch, but the hospital staff was not around now to help (where were they when I actually
needed them?!). I couldn’t get up from the bed as I had local anesthestic from the repair and
was really sore. I felt helpless. The surge of endogenous adrenaline from the natural birth
had started to wear off, and I went from ecstatic to deliriously tired. I said goodnight to my
doula – she had had a long day and it was her birthday, too! Then I was transferred to a
recovery room in the Pediatrics wing, as they had run of room in Maternity. My husband fell
asleep on the empty bed beside me.

What followed in the next 36-hours was a total fiasco as I struggled to establish
breastfeeding. I felt detached from my baby – here was this little alien wiggling around
like crazy and crying and she was not getting latched on. Some of the nurses who were
lactaction counselors helped me with some of the feedings, but I couldn’t get her latched
on without their help. We tried skin-to-skin and that helped a bit, but the latch was still not
good and my nipples started to bleed a lot. Here I was feeling like a total fool. I had done all
the “right” things (natural birth, rooming in, no pacifiers or bottles or glucose water, etc)
and nothing was working. Why had I thought I would be able to breastfeed just because it
was important to me? Yet the difficult birth gave me confidence. I had this deep feeling of
yes, this baby will be exclusively breastfed come hell or high water, I WILL stay positive
and I WILL get this right. The next day a nurse brought me a breastpump to help “pull my
nipples” out- whilst using it for a few minutes before each feeding, I pumped over 3oz of
colostrum. Liquid gold, right? Well, 8 hours later it ended up in the trash because no one
was around to show me how or where to store the milk and clean the pump parts. The
second night (24 hours) after the birth was the worst – I kept trying to call my nurse, and no
one came for, hours. Finally a “tech” person came and told me my nurse was busy catching
other babies. I needed help getting my daughter latched on – she had gone from a little bit
lethargic (from the very long birth no doubt) to over-hungry and fussy. We did manage a
few short feeds in that time.

Finally at midnight our nurse came and then called our pediatrician to inform him that the
baby hadn’t had any wet or dirty diapers since the birth, and that we would have to have
her kidneys checked with ultrasound if she didn’t have a wet diaper soon. He prescribed
formula supplementation for our baby over the phone (sight unseen!), which the nurse
said we could administer with a syringe and tube rather than a bottle. I was crushed. My
husband begged me to “listen to the doctor”, and I was just so confused and deliriously
tired. I gave in – he gave her the formula, and she promptly pooped. We were told to
supplement after each feeding for the next 12 hours, and no one suggested that I give her
the copious breastmilk I had been pumping out and didn’t know where to put. By the time I
had my wits about me again and got home (about 36 hours after the birth), I was pumping
a lot of milk and knew how to store it, which we gave in a bottle after each feeding for the
next few days. It took a few more weeks to get the latch right and a whole 7 weeks for one
of my cracked nipples to heal, but I never again supplemented with formula, and I kept
breastfeeding my daughter until she was 15 months old and we both ready to move on. The
thing that enrages me to this day is that the staff and our pediatrician were not following
the science-based protocols for supplementation, and certainly the hospital procedures
were setting me up to fail at breastfeeding. Persisting at breastfeeding turned out to be the
best decision I ever made, and was still totally worth all the initial struggle.

My midwife’s backup OB stopped by the next day to “check” on me. He barely touched my
abdomen and didn’t even look at my stitches, then asked if I needed stronger pain meds
than just plain ibuprofen. I hesitated and said, “Well, I read about a breastfed baby that died
because he hypermetabolized the codeine ……”, but Dr. Big Oaf waved his hand in the air
(like “that’s nonsense”) and then walked out of the room. Great bedside manner. An hour
later my midwife came back – her nice, gentle personality was back (um, where had it been
during the birth?), and she spent about an hour with me talking to me about postpartum
care and recovery and actually looked at my stitches. I felt human again.

REFLECTIONS

When I think back now I still have really mixed feelings about the birth (4 years later!).
There were some bright spots, of course – that great nurse, as well as my husband and
doula who both did so much to help me (massage, acupressure points, and lots of verbal
encouragement). We were all “fine” without any apparent medical trauma. And I had a
natural birth in a hospital setting, which is what I was aiming for– it seemed to be the
best decision given the information and choices I had at the time. The recovery was not
so bad at all, except the perineal soreness from the episiotomy and some muscle aches
from the pushing, and I was so appreciative to not be in mind-fog from narcotics during
labor or postpartum. But I was also very disappointed in my midwife, who seemed to have
temporarily pulled a bait-and-switch and was not very accommodating during the birth
and did not do anything to facilitate that crucial initial skin-to-skin contact between my
baby and me. I had trusted her and she betrayed me!! At a postpartum visit, she said to
me, “You know, I don’t really believe in home birth, but you would be a great candidate for
home birth. You really didn’t want to be messed with.” Part of me felt validated hearing this
candid opinion, and part of me was mad. I had specifically told her at a prenatal visit that
I did want a home birth-like experience and was planning on a gentle hospital birth with
interventions only in the case of a real emergency. Why didn’t she believe me the first time?

Intuitively, I had always known that I wasn’t going to want to be “messed with”, which
is why we did Bradley method and why I wrote my birth plan and switched away from
horrible Dr. Misogynist (thank goodness also for that – I can’t imagine how awful the
birth would have been with her). I thought I would have true informed consent for any
procedures, especially during recovery. I thought my midwife would help me have a gentle
birth, but I misread her and didn’t realize that she was a midwife who really likes epidurals
and pitocin, as she told me later. I guess I was wrong about a lot of things. Writing this now,
having just heard of Whitney Houston’s death, I am reminded of one of her songs that was
a childhood favorite of mine… “No matter what they take from me, they can’t take away
my dignity…because the greatest love of all is happening to me…” Well, actually, they did
take away my dignity and furthermore jeopardized my breastfeeding relationship with my
daughter, with whom I didn’t really bond very well during the first couple of weeks. I know
that the care I received was not abominable and that it was better than the care that many
women get in the U.S. and other countries, but here is the truth: it was not the care I wanted
or deserved.

Having now read a lot of research on evidenced-based care that came out recently, and
then reading the excellent exposé “Born in the USA: how a broken maternity system needs
to put mothers and babies first” by Marsden Wagner, I finally started to better understand
what real choices are out there and how far the system is from aligning with actual human

physiology. Now that I have my PhD in Neuroscience I can really see a lot of the flaws in
the current interpretation of the standard of care. I realize that most of the trouble started
with this obsessive expectation of my midwife’s that I had to give birth by 41 weeks. With
the benefit of hindsight, having my membranes swept was probably a mistake – the 52-
hour-sluggish labor was probably a result of this “natural” (but not really) induction. My
daughter was probably not well-positioned to come out yet, and by forcing things along and
ending up at the brink of a C-section, we (my birth team and I) put both of us in the very
potential danger that I was trying so hard to avoid. Time and again I was asked by these
health care providers to ignore my maternal instinct and intuition. Futhermore, before
reading Dr Marsden’s book, I did not have a clear sense of my rights as a patient. On the one
hand, I felt that I had entered into some sort of contract with the hospital and my midwife
– by choosing to give birth there, with her as my birth attendant, I had to go along with the
hospital “policies” and follow her orders. On the other hand, I sorely underestimated the
tension and stress that would be created by asking to deviate from their protocols even a
little, especially in terms of frequent vaginal exams and the IVs. Did stress slow down my
labor? Very probably. And if I had actually stayed at home, set up the birth pool and labored
in it until I was around 8cm, would that have changed the outcome? Would my baby have
been better positioned? If I had insisted on pushing in a squatting position at the end, would
that have made a big difference? It is just impossible to know.

Expectant mothers should not have to make this difficult choice, this way, this Catch-
22. I (somewhat knowingly?) traded in dignity and respect, evidenced-based practices,
the possibility of a gentle birth, in order to be in close physical proximity to an operating
room in the very unlikely case that a true (non-iatrogenic!) urgent emergency occurred.
The consequence of that choice is that I was subject to non-evidenced-based procedures
that could have sacrificed mine and my baby’s health and well-being. Since then I have
read hundreds of birth stories and also a lot of scientific literature with a lot of statistics,
and here is the conclusion that I have come to: while it is technically possible to have
an unmedicated birth in a hospital, it is unlikely, as the so-called “standard of care” (if X
happens, do Y intervention, etc.) sets most mothers up to “fail” at this. It is not necessarily
enough to take a natural childbirth class, read a lot of books, have a doula present, practice
pain-coping techniques and meditation, plan on “staying at home for as long as possible”
and have birth plan, because all of this will go out the window if the hospital is not following
evidenced-based recommendations for induction and C-section and other procedures (i.e.
the research shows very low rates of induction and C-section and epidurals – and better
outcomes – when evidence-based care is used). Furthermore, it seems to be extremely rare
to have a gentle home-birth like experience in most hospitals, even among those cases of
unmedicated birth.

So maybe I can stop beating myself up now that I have realized that I was shooting for
something virtually unattainable, at least at that institution with that midwife. And for
the next child, if we have one… obviously, I will seriously consider out-of-hospital birth,
and most importantly: I owe it to myself and to my family to find a care provider whose
philosophy aligns well with evidence-based, women-centered practices: a midwife and birth
setting that I can trust to give me the safest and most humane birth possible. With a serious
dose of dignity.

“For those and for so many acts both evident and subtle which have fueled the illusion of separateness: we forgive
ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.”-R. Eller-Isaacs. (Thanks to my friend Elona Dellabough-Gormley
for sharing this very appropriate quote recently. I babysat for Elona when she was a small child many years ago,
and she is now grown into a delightful young woman, who happens to be a doula and midwife-in-training.)

Apr

12

Guest Post: A doula’s story of a family birth

Birth / Birth Stories / Doulaing / Guest Post / 0 comments

A planned hospital birth turned family birth at home.

A guest post by doula Hannah Robertson (of Calm Yorkshire Birth)

Last week was very special indeed as one of the women that I doula-ed for whilst doing my Doula UK recognition gave birth to her third baby. I was as you can imagine very flattered, excited and truly happy.

I was Lucy’s doula when her second daughter was born almost three years ago. Libby had a quiet and peaceful hospital birth, she was born in the caul and arrived as gently as they come. Lucy had laboured quickly and sadly Daddy, Colin was driving back from work which at the time was a good 3 hours away so he missed Libby’s birth.

Being a real home birth advocate, I talked about the benefits when we met for our first antenatal session. Lucy, knew about the benefits of homebirth as she had relatives in Holland. One of the problems for her was the trauma in her first birth of which was diagnosed as a placenta abruption. Lucy had been blue lighted to the nearest hospital after planning a home water birth. Quickly after the arrival of a midwife, she was in theatre about to have a caesarean when it was noticed that she was fully dilated. Colin who had been told that his partner may have to have a general anaesthetic was rushed back in, wearing scrubs to see their first daughter born. Both her first two daughters were born before 37 weeks and were good weights for their gestation, both breast fed well so Lucy was able to rest in the transitional care ward. This suited her well as she had suffered from shaking on both occasions after the shock of a quick birth. With Lucy’s third pregnancy in an antenatal session, I explained that transitional care is different to postnatal ward and that there was no guarantee this baby would be early again. Although, I did not think she would go as near to term as she did. Of course Doula’s think many things but silence and drawing out the mother’s feelings is the art at the centre of what we do. There are enough experts in maternity care already and it is our role to make the Mum feel wise by drawing on her inner wisdom.

After about week 36, Lucy had nights of prelabour that seemed to go on without any changes. This became tiring physically and emotionally for her. Worries crept in as often Colin worked away and some of the places he worked were too far away by car to get back in time.

I offered Lucy my birth pool, to see if she may reconsider a home birth as logistically this seemed so much simpler. Lucy was clear that she needed the space to relax after birth and knew her older daughters would be so happy and excited and that meant little rest for her. Then her Mum came over from Holland and everything started to feel more perfect and achievable.

My own Mum was there when I birthed both my babies but interestingly, despite me wanting her there; I knew I needed her outside my birth space rather than as an observer. I think for some Mother- daughter relationships this is the ultimate support for the daughter but for others it is a hindrance.

After many texts and conversations and many nights of stop-start contractions, I had a call on the 1st April. The date is never normally so central to a story as this one. I arrived after 45 minutes to the chosen hospital (with Libby’s birth, the chosen hospital was at full capacity so we were redirected to another hospital),

to find Colin and Sandy (Lucy’s mum) waiting at the assessment centre. Just as I get there, a willowy face ladened with sadness appeared slowly walking from the assessment room. Her face said it all ‘1cm dilated’ + shorter contractions meant not in labour. This is a medical belief and certainly not one I share. There is no pattern of labour that can be translated as ‘this is it’ for all women. I have attended a birth with a woman whose surges were long but spaced out with no pattern until the last 20 minutes and after 4 contractions the head was visible . Vaginal examinations cannot predict the timeline of events to come and they rarely give reassurance either. Occasionally if a labour seems to have stalled and a mother is distressed then at her demand an examination can be a useful tool to determine what might be holding the labour back.

I gave Lucy, a big hug and we talked about a plan from hereon. We all went back downstairs for a coffee and left the notes at the triage. I gave a homeopathic remedy gelsemium, it is a good labour one to use after disappointment or ‘stagefright’. The plan was made for them to go back home and for Lucy to rest and I would stay close by the hospital as I was sure that birth was fairly imminent. I trusted Lucy and her internal knowledge that had lead her to the hospital early as she ‘knew’ her labours’ spiral quickly after a certain point. She was so keen to birth in the pool this time. I walked with her up the 4 flights of stairs to the assessment room and we spent a quiet 10 minutes having blood pressure and temperature taken…. Not sure why!! Then descended the 4 flights of stairs crab style.

I wandered Leeds City Centre but was not in the mood for shopping as I felt quite sad. The VE had undermined Lucy and I really felt for her. I sent a couple of messages but no reply. I had a cup of tea and started to walk back to my car. I was 5 minutes walk from the hospital and I received a message to say that Lucy’s waters had broken and they were coming straight back to hospital.

5 minutes later, I was waiting in the lobby of the hospital and I received another call and it was Sandy, Lucy’s Mum.

“She’s here” She said.

I replied “Where are you? I am here in the LGI.”

“No, the baby is here, we are at home in the Kitchen.” Sandy replied in a nervous excited way.

“Wow, what happened?” I asked.

This is the 1st April moment.

Sandy explained that they were about to get into the car when Lucy said I am pushing. Colin tried to get her into the car and Sandy ushered them inside and Lucy said ‘the kitchen, I need clean towels’. Colin went to get towels and then Lucy said call an ambulance, to which Colin replied what number? Colin was stressed as the last time he was around Lucy when Susie was born, had been an emergency. Those feelings can stay with you, until another experience takes over. This is why antenatally doulas can be great for dads. EFT works well too. Colin was not really wanting this involvement antenatally and I respected that. Although, he was keen to be the one to pass Molly up to Lucy. I am sad that I was not there to support with this as he wanted to be the hands to pass his daughter.

So Lucy lay on the kitchen floor and Sandy caught little Molly. Apparently 7 minutes after the waters went. Paramedics arrived shortly afterwards. I asked Sandy on the phone if Lucy was coming to hospital or staying at home. They were coming in. After ten minutes I called back and decided to go over to them.

Lucy was lying under blankets with the incredibly beautiful Molly and a shocked Mum and Partner there. I gave her aconite and offered it to the supporters but water was all that they needed. Lucy said “well I got my homebirth then’ and she just giggled. We both did! Placenta was still attached and Molly was skin to skin. The paramedics were thankfully a couple of calm men. In no hurry or rush to separate baby- phew. Colin cut the cord and separated Molly from her womb life to life on earth. The floor was spotless. All that preparation I hear about and lists I see- nothing was needed except confidence and the right support people.

I felt an initial sadness at not having been there and I questioned why things had happened this way. Then it just clicked like a feeling of contentment. It was all meant to happen like that. Sandy from Holland was meant to be the feminine hands to be the first to hold her beautiful wee granddaughter. A legacy! As women, this has for early generations been the only way to give birth. Mothers, aunties, sisters, wise women being the female companions to the labouring Goddess. There never used to be strangers or diagnostic tests and measuring. So out of my sadness of missing the first birth I was asked to doula, I can see a perfect cycle of completion. I was reminded of the sacredness of birth and how lucky I had been to be chosen and how sad it was for Colin that he had missed Libby’s birth. This time the person who missed the birth was yes, a good friend and doula but not family. This was a family birth! A complete learning cycle for the mama who now realises that for her, homebirth is safer and vaginal examinations are a tool that adds doubt and discourages instinct. Lucy’s instinct was spot on throughout as she went to hospital at the right time for her to have a hope in hell of using a birth pool. 1 hr and 45 minutes after leaving the hospital, Molly was here and not a contraction that lasted longer than than 35 seconds. Birth is a mystery and a test of faith to those who are well supported.

Mar

23

Let’s Celebrate! World Doula Week 22-28 March 2012

Birth Stories / Doulaing / 0 comments

It’s World Doula Week and there’s a lot to celebrate! Here are some of the things I’ve been enjoying this week.

As always, I’m loving the doula wisdom that comes from Motherwit Doula Lesley Everest ~ this week she has a fabulous post on the magic of doula care: Where the magic of doula care lies

Then yesterday the lovely Hackney Doula Rebecca Schiller has this post summing up the results of the Doula UK’s recent survey on the impact of doulas in the Huffington post: Far from faddish…

And of course, how fab is it that Doula! the film is being shown in so many locations across the country. Toni Harman, ‘film-maker turned birth warrior’ (love it!) sums it up well in her piece Can one film change birth around the world?

And just to leave you with some doula and birth magic, check out these birth stories:

from Calm Yorkshire Birth

from Spirited Mama

and of course the stories on here…check out baby Aurora and baby Juliette‘s births for a start.

Please share your doula stories and favourite links in the comments!

Happy World Doula Week everyone!!

Feb

15

Iris’s Birth

Birth Stories / Home Birth Transfer / 0 comments

A planned home birth turned hospital birth…a warm, rich account of a first child’s birth

This is long as I wrote it for us and Iris’s baby book and don’t have time to re-do it for here so it may be advisable to get a coffee and get comfy…..or to change your mind and go read another post!!

Wednesday 4th August was the day after one of two due dates we had given to us and the last of Boyos late shifts. We had a MW appointment at 10am and when she arrived, she asked if I would like a sweep to see what was happening as I was now overdue no matter which EDD was worked to. I agreed and off we went upstairs where she started and her mobile phone promptly rang and because Boyo was next door asleep, she was trying to get it on silent, all whilst still holding onto my cervix! I was half laughing, half thinking was she having a joke!! It wasn’t the sort of experience I’d pay to go through for the fun of it but it wasn’t as bad as I was expecting either. And it brought good news, we were 1-2cm and favourable! We made another appointment for the following Monday and off she went.

Boyo got up and I told him what had happened and that I felt something may start to happen but to go to work and I’d get him home if I needed to. He grudgingly went in and I stayed indoors and occupied myself with various Friends episodes and films. As the day went on, the cramps and tightenings grew stronger but I felt great so just kept him and my folks updated but carried on as normal, rolling on my ball, ordering a cheeky Chinese for dinner and feeling happy. At about 10pm I text Boyo to make sure he was finishing on time as it felt like I might be needing him home and was very glad when he said he would be. I had some parcels to package up so to keep me busy I wrote all the labels and packaged everything up whilst rolling on my ball and texting Lisa who was wonderful as always.

At midnight on the dot, I heard Boyos car come down the driveway and was over the moon to see him come through the door. I wanted him with me now and he was home. I made him a sandwich and was sat on the floor chatting away whilst he ate it and felt something damp in my trousers. I remember saying I wasn’t sure if it was my waters and had a look but decided it wasn’t and carried on chatting. We decided to go to bed as I had been up since 7am and Boyo had worked 4 late shifts, all of which had ran into overtime so he was shattered and we felt we may need the energy tomorrow. Off we went to bed, honestly not thinking that anything would be happening imminentley, got in, lay for a matter of minutes and I felt that damp feeling again. I got up and went to the loo and any doubts I had about it being my waters fast disapeared! I went back into the bedroom and told Boyo who bless him, looked a mixture of the most excited I have ever seen someone look and totally and utterly shattered!! It seems our girl didn’t really want to us to get much sleep that night as within minutes, the surges were coming every 2 minutes and lasting for a minute or so at a time.

We headed downstairs and I put on my Birth Day outfit of bikini top and sun dress and felt really comfortable and happy. It was gone 1.30am by this point and it was really peaceful, no noise from outside and the house felt calm. We were both just happy that our Missy was finally on her way. It is a feeling I couldn’t describe to anyone, something I imagine you only feel at that point in life but one I will remember forever. When the surges didn’t let up, we decided to call the MW who said she should come over with them being so close. She was with us in less than 20 minutes and thankfully, agreed that we were having really good, strong surges and that everything seemed to be as it should. Boyo put our music on, some beautiful Sigur Ros which now I am sure I won’t be able to ever listen to again without getting all teary!

The MW asked us if we wanted her to stay but we felt good and were happy for her to go home and have some sleep and leave us to it. We went upstairs and Boyo ran me a bath which was lovely. I lay in there snoozing between surges and Boyo lay on the hallway floor just outside the door to get some sleep. When I got uncomfortable in there, I got out and sat on the loo seat where again, I dozed happily between surges for a good while. After a while, we went downstairs where I sat on the sofa and Boyo lay on the duvet on the floor in front of me and we both continued to sleep and rest where we could. It was getting light outside by this time and everything was still calm and lovely and I remember we just kept smiling at each other, not saying much….not out loud anyway.

At about 6.30am the surges were getting closer together and even stronger so we called the MW who said she’d be back within the hour. It was 8am when she arrived and she was happy that everything was progressign well….she even said that Missy would hopefully be here by lunchtime….hmmmmmm! At about 9am, Boyo started to get the pool ready and I was concentrating a lot on my breathing to get through the surges, still feeling totally calm, relaxed and happy but noticing a definate rise in the intensity of everything which made me happy as I knew my body was working to bring Missy to us.

The pool was eventually ready and after an internal, I got in and it felt lovely. Boyo sat pouring the warm water over my back while I swayed and looked out of our patio doors to the sunshine in our garden, wondering what the people in the other houses I could see were up to and betting it wasn’t as exciting as what was going on in our little house!! The other MW arrived just after I got in the pool but I was so into my breathing and music it was a good hour before I even acknowledged the poor girl! Boyo was running into being awake for 26 hours by this point so I made him go upstairs to have some sleep. I was fine, there were two MWs and he would need his energy for later…..we had no idea just how much at this point.

The surges were really gaining momentum by this point and I finally asked for some gas and air. I really don’t think it helped with the feeling at all, what it did do was give me something else to concentrate on and that in itself helped. I didn’t get that drunk feeling that people talk about and thankfully it didn’t make me sick as it does my Mum. I felt like I wanted to get out of the pool at about lunch timeish and the MW suggested I lay down and try and get some rest – it had been 12 hours solid of surges by this point and I had been awake more than 28 hours barring the very interupted dozing in the night. Instantly I wished I hadn’t, it was so horribly uncomfortable and it was the first time I thought anything other than postively. I got back up and needed a wee so made my way to our downstairs loo where I found myself strangely comfortable which is weird as I normally hate it in there! This is where I spent the next few hours!! Sat on the loo in our pokey little downstairs WC! Boyo came back downstairs just after I headed in there and he found it most amusing! He set up a little camp on the floor next to me and we sat chatting between surges and the MW’s made themselves and Boyo some toast and tea and bless her, the younger one cleaned our bathroom and washed our dishes for us!

I got back in the pool mid afternoon and started to push but I was sure it was doing nothing so had another internal and I was right, we weren’t quite there yet and my cervix was still in the way, although it could be moved. Not long after there was a small ammount of blood in the pool so I had to get out to see where it was coming from but they decided it was nothing of note and I could get back in if I wanted. I however headed back to the bathroom where I would stay for the rest of our time at home.

By 5pm the surges were still coming thick and fast and were really, really strong and I was getting the urge to push. We headed back to the lounge and I lay on the sofa for another internal where they said I was 7cm. I remember getting a bit upset at that point, mainly as I was totally shattered but quickly pulled myself together and got back on track. The MW suggested that if by 7pm nothing had happened we may want to consider going to the hospital, as much because of the sheer length of time I had been in labour as anything and Boyo and I had a chat and decided that we wouldn’t wait until then, we would go now. I knew that Missy wasn’t coming any time soon – call it intution if you like but I knew our girl wasn’t in a hurry and I didn’t want to cause me, her or my Boyo any distress and the sensible thing at this point was to go to hospital. I was totally happy with the decision. As much as we wanted a Home Birth, the absolute main goal for us was to have a happy and healthy baby and for us to feel like we had been listened to and our wishes adhered to as much as possible – we definitely got both of these things.

The MW called the ambulance about 6.15pm and by 6.45pm we were at the Royal Surrey. The journey there was bleeding uncomfortable, probably the worst part! They made me lie on a stretcher on my back and strapped me in and my god, was that not a position that worked for me comfort wise! My Boyo followed behind so he had a car to get us home and I never took my eyes off him the whole way there. I did ask if he could take me…..they said no!!

Once we were there, we were taken right up to a delivery room which was in fairness, much nicer than either of us had thought it would be. I was in quite a lot of discomfort at this point and totally and utterly shattered so it was suggested that an Epidural may help, as much to give me some rest as anything. I asked Boyo what he thought and finally agreed to have it done. I sat with my feet on Boyos knees with my head buried in his expecting it to be awful and it really wasn’t. I felt absolutely nothing and it went in first time really easy. The funniest part was they gave me gas and air to use while they sorted me out and as I was exhaling, it sounded like Darth Vadar and Boyo was getting me to say “May the Force Be With You” and “Luke I am Your Father” – I was laughing so hard whilst trying to breathe through it all…..he was amazing, as always, kept my spirits up no end. I don’t know what I’d have done without him. The MW at the hospital was lovely and I was chatting away to her whilst Boyo went to sort the car out and call the folks and Lisa and was a bit gutted when she said she finished in an hour and wouldn’t be my MW all night. Our usual MW came in to find us and make sure we were ok and to ask if we minded if she went home bless her. We said of course not and she gave us hugs and kisses before heading off with strict instructions to let her know when Missy was finally here.

The night shift MW was lovely, a Scottish girl too so we got chatting about that – she stayed with us the entire time which we were surprised at as we had been led to believe they would be in and out and it would be a bit chaotic – maybe we were lucky or maybe they took pity on me but not once did we feel abandoned.

Half hour or so later, the Epidural had kicked in, well, all barring one patch on my lower left side. I was told to lie on my side to see if that helped it seep through any more. Boyo came back and had brought some snacks and drinks for me as I hadn’t eaten since my Chinese at 6pm the night before and the MW wanted me to. Strangely, I was in more discomfort now than I had been all day as it was now all concentrated on the one spot – sounds weird but it was really true. I just kept saying that it hurt more now than ever and I was so pleased when the MW said that I wasn’t nuts and as it wasn’t working in one area, it could well be more painful as everything is going to one part rather than being spread throughout my body. Great!!

The night shift Anasthesiast came in and he was so lovely, Boyo and I were really happy with him, with all the staff and he said to top me up and see if that helped and if not he would pull the line out a bit and hope that it would branch off to the unblocked area. It worked for a little while but in the end, the window as they call it, was back again. He came back and done the pully thing but again, it didn’t really work so it was decided they would remove the line and start afresh.

It was about 11pm by now and with the new Epidural line in, they decided to do another internal and we were 9cm which was great. They said they could see Missys head and that she had hair – we asked what colour and she said it was lovely and dark. Again, the Epidural was seeming to work barring that one patch but it wasn’t as noticeable this time. We spent the next hour or so chatting and trying to get as much rest as we could which in fairness, wasn’t much at all. By just after 12am we were fully dilated and ready to start pushing and I was so happy and excited. Boyo was great, helping me with my breathing, reminding me of everything we had worked through, soft face, keeping energy, hypno techniques etc and we were really getting somewhere. After an hour or so, Missys head was down and we all thought she would be here soon. Everything was going well, I felt good, she seemed happy and I was pushing and it was working.

A Dr came in at this point to see how I was doing as I had been in labour so long by now and she was lovely. We had a chat and she was saying how she wouldn’t be needed and I was going to do this on my own! Hmmmmmm!

Suddenly, I remember hearing her heart rate monitor change and I now know it was her heart rate drop. They were very calm about it but Boyo did notice there were a few more people in the room all looking at the print out and keeping a very close eye on it. Shortly after that, her heart rate soared before finally levelling out again. I can’t remember how long after this happened it became apparent that Missy Moo had moved and it was the reason that I was starting to struggle with the pushing. The window was now incredibly noticeable again and that was taking most of my concentration rather than using all I had on pushing. It went from seeing Missys lovely head of hair to seeing her ear and she had tilted her chin so was in a really difficult position.

At about 1.30pm, there was a lot of people in the room as Missy wasn’t coming, her heart rate was obviously a concern as was the fact that the labour had been so long and I was shattered and in quite a lot of discomfort now. They asked how I felt about having a spinal block and trying a Ventouse delivery, then possible Forceps and finally a C-Section. I asked my Boyo what he thought and all he cared about at this point was me and Missy being ok so I knew the only thing to do was agree – I had to do what was right for all of us and this was it. We had to get our girlie out and this now seemed the best, and possibly only way.

The Anestiasiast went through everything about the spinal block and asked if we had any questions – the only one I asked was “will this one definitely bloody work” !!!! He assured us it would whilst laughing saying it was good I still had a sense of humour…I was being serious!! We got all the stuff read to us, I gave Boyo authority to make any decisions etc and we were taken next door to Theatre where Boyo was taken to get his scrubs on and I was transferred from my bed to the table. They made me lie on my side and put my chin on my chest and pull my knees up and for the first time, I shouted out – it was incredibly uncomfortable and even painful and all I kept thinking was how the hell was I going to stay still enough for him to get a needle in a 8mm area in my back. I think ultimately it was fear that made me lay totally still whilst gripping Boyo for dear life.

Immediately, there was calm. I felt this really warm sensation over my legs and back, burning almost and then I had the weirdest thing ever of seeing someone hold my legs but not be able to feel a single thing. They Anasthesiast done his cold test and after a few minutes, said we were ready to go. Boyo was sat next to me the whole time, holding my hand and telling me everything was ok. I was more worried about him than I was about me – no one was checking he was ok and he had been through more than I had as far as I was concerend. The Drs got me to start pushing which was fairly difficult when I literally could feel nothing and they made half an attempt with the Ventouse but neither Boyo or I believe they ever really intended to use it. It seemed more of a process thing than a real attempt. They quickly moved to the Forceps option and within a few moments, I could hear them saying the cord was around her neck and I looked at Boyo who gave me one of his “everything will be ok” looks and a squeeze. It felt like ages later but finally, Missy was on my chest clearly awake and moving and I have never felt such relief. The tears were going before I knew it and when I looked at Boyo, I honestly thought he was going to pass out with relief that we were both ok. I now know that he had seen what had been happeneing down at the business end and Missy had been out for a while before I knew and she didn’t look good. The cord was tight, she was very dark and making no sound. He was terrified but not once did he let me know it. She was taken to be cleaned up and I just lay there with Boyo holding me and crying with happiness, relief, exhaustion….every emotion in the world I think and I know he was the same. It was the most surreal moments of our lives following the birth, we just couldn’t believe that after 30 hours, she was finally here. We were parents and our Missy was here. Her time of birth was exactly 3am.

While they were sorting me out, I was apologising to all the medical staff for being a bit vocal when we got into theatre! They all assured me that I hadn’t sworn at anyone and was perfetly lovely to them all, especially after everything! I was happy with that as I was so worried I had got snappy with them and they had all been amazing.

They finally brought our girl over to us for that first cuddle and it was amazing. I knew her. We both did. It already felt like she belonged with us and we were a family. I wanted Boyo to have her as quickly as possible so passed her over and they spent the next half hour or so together having cuddles. Her left eye wouldn’t close and her little mouth was dropped on the left too, both due to the Forceps and she had a small cut on her head and the usual Forceps mark on her skull. She also had a fairly small but dark bruise from the Ventouse on the back of her head. The Dr told Boyo that they would come back and check her eye in 20 minutes and if it hadn’t started to close, they would pop a patch over it and regularly pop some drops in just to keep it moist until she did. Thankfully by then, it was opening and closing and her mouth had fixed itself too.

Once they were happy with that, we were taken back to the delivery room we had been in earlier and Missy was weighed – she was 7lb 6oz. From there, she was given to me for some skin to skin and for her first feed which she loved. She latched immediately and fed like a dream. She has done since. The MW left us and the three of us had our first alone time as a family which is a time I will never forget.

It was gone 4.30am by now and we decided that as much as it pained us, Boyo should go home and get some sleep so he was ok for tomorrow. He had only had a couple of hours since he got up on the Wednesday morning bless him and he had really been through it. Seeing him walk round the corner to leave was horrible, the worst part of any of it for me. A MW came and made me some toast and tea and I ate and drank that while telling our girlie how wonderful her Daddy was and how much we both loved her before we were finally taken down to the Post Natal ward at gone 6am. Our girlie dozed but I couldn’t take my eyes off her and was happy just to lie there and wait for Boyo to get back to us which he did by 10am.

We spent the day in the ward and we were finally discharged and got out at about 4pm and headed home for our first night as a family. We ordered a Pizza Hut and that was it, the start of our life as a family of 3……

The birth may not have gone as we had “planned” in the sense of delivering at home but it did in many ways. I felt like we were in control and was consulted and listened to on everything. I knew what was happening at all times and fully understood why and how everything was going to go at each stage. The staff at the hospital were amazing and most importantly, me and our girlie were absolutely fine at the end of it.

It was a mammoth labour with just about everything that could happen occuring at some point but it was an awesome experience and I have nothing but fond thoughts and memories of it. We feel truly lucky and blessed and when people say they are sorry we didn’t get the birth we wanted or that it didn’t go to plan, it gets me a little as it did…..no, we didn’t deliver at home but we did the hard bit there and we had a level of control over everything and were kept in the loop the entire time. I know they only mean well but if you are going to feel anything for us, please don’t let it be anything other than happy…………

I guess now we just need to wait for the physical wounds to heal and we can get on with number 2!!!

xxx

Jan

27

Gabriel’s Birth – from conscious conception to Lotus birth

Birth Stories / Home Birth / 3 comments

It’s a special day today, my baby turns three.

His story took me from conscious conception to Lotus birth, and was really a point of completion on my own experiential journey of learning about birth as a mother.

It wasn’t all easy – in some ways his pregnancy and early infancy were the hardest I experienced. I don’t want to go into that too much today, as it is a day of celebration. At the same time, I do want other mothers to know that parts of your pregnancy or early motherhood can be challenging, even traumatic, and you and your baby can get through it. I found it so reassuring to read accounts of others who had experienced this in pregnancy so I will share with you all that there was a lot of conflict in my relationship with his father at the time, and I spent a lot of the pregnancy suffering from the arguments and conflicts. He was still an amazingly calm, alert and aware baby. He tangibly radiated love. Holding him in the early weeks kept me going through some very dark times.

But back to the story and the celebration.

I knew that I really wanted another baby, I felt incomplete even though I had two lovely children. After spending a lot of time discussing with my husband and trying to convince him, I finally surrendered. He wasn’t going to budge. He was clear that he didn’t want any more children. So I put a thought out into the universe that if there was a baby who wanted to come, I was ready, but I couldn’t convince my husband so I would have to leave that to the baby as I’d done all I could.

That night Gabriel was conceived. From the next morning, I just knew. And I felt this joyful, blissful energy and spirit around me as I walked through the woods with my children. It felt like spring. It was some weeks before I could confirm with a pregnancy test – but it was true, there was a baby coming.

I chose for this pregnancy the same independent midwives I had had for my previous pregnancies, the Yorkshire Storks, and specifically Chris Warren as my primary midwife. At the booking in appointment, William was running about and she accidentally wrote his name down as second midwife…in retrospect, a hint of what was to come. Funnily enough all through the pregnancy, my older two children kept asking, what will we do if the midwife can’t make it?

At 37 weeks baby was breech. I started making plans to labour in Durham rather than in Low Mill (North York moors in the middle of winter). I would still birth at home with midwives if all went well, but wanted to be closer to a hospital if necessary. Fortunately, I asked baby to turn and he did. Little did I know he was no where near coming out yet.

My EDD was early January, and from about three weeks before I started having long series of contractions, six to eight or more hours in a row, regular sometimes 5 minutes apart, often enough to make me think something might be happening. A Christmas baby maybe? No. A New Years’ baby? No again.

41 weeks and then into 42 weeks. This was totally outside my previous experiences (dd was born at 39+6, ds at 41+1) My mother came from America and left again. Chris, my midwife, left on holiday so Michelle went on call for me. We booked a scan (which would have been my only one in that pregnancy) for 43+2 in York. I knew baby was well, growing and plenty of movement. I also knew I wouldn’t opt for induction.

Fortunately, he did decide to come out!

At 42 completed weeks I was still having long runs of contractions, but pretty much ignorning them after experiencing these for 5 weeks. I woke up in the night because my waters had suddenly gone. I was on my own with the children. I got up, called the midwife for a chat (just mild contractions so no need for her to come, waters clear), built up the fire and made a long list of things to do for Robert who I had called and asked to drive down from Durham. When he arrived, I went to lie down expecting to be back up again soon as contractions were increasing in regularity and intensity but still totally manageable.

Unexpectedly, I went to sleep. I was awakened the next morning by my 3 year old. I was still having contractions, strong enough to breathe through, but only approximately every 15 minutes. Seemed like it might be a while. I spoke with Michelle on the phone and we agreed it wasn’t time for her to come. I walked my daughter to the neighbors who were dropping her at school and went home and read a book to my son, who didn’t like the sound of me breathing through the contractions.

I started to get irritated too, because I felt like no one was taking my labour seriously. So I decided to go upstairs by myself. I climbed up on the bed, and couldn’t get comfortable, even leaning forward. I suddenly experienced a massive contraction that felt like the start of baby descending. I jumped up quick and shouted down to call the midwife and fill the pool, then went into the bathroom and shut the door.

From that point labour was incredibly intense – and yes, really painful! I could hear the sound of the water running to fill the pool and was really wishing it would be ready. I vaguely contemplated trying to get into the shower, but decided maybe it wasn’t the best idea on my own as I was. Once my 3 year old came to the door to check on me, but I held it closed and he went back downstairs to his dad.

The contractions were as intense as they get, while experiencing one I was locked in place. In between, I would have just enough time to get myself a sip of water and long for the pool or the shower. I have no idea how long this went on for, certainly less than an hour. Suddenly, I knew the baby would come with the next contraction and that I had to catch him. I focused and did catch him as he slipped out all at once, experiencing a true foetus ejection reflex. I caught him and held him and remember saying ‘we did it, baby, we did it’.

Actually I was really surprised to find baby was a ‘he’ and not a ‘she’ as anticipated – but this was very liberating too as all the plans and expectations of pregnancy fell away.

I wrapped us in towels and lay down on the floor with him and after a while called out for help. William came up to snuggle with us and dad brought pillows and more towels. After a bit, Michelle arrived as well.

William and his dad left to set up the bedroom, and I birthed the placenta – my hardest one, really required ‘maternal effort’. Michelle held Gabriel for me for a few moments so I could have a shower and she tucked us up in bed, placenta still attached.

Downstairs I heard the Suma delivery truck arrive and Robert went out to talk with the driver. While he was out Michelle and I heard some giggles and splash, splash. Hannah and William had jumped into the birth pool! Well at least someone got to enjoy it.

I stayed in bed with Gabriel for the next few days, enjoying our too short babymoon. He was born on Tuesday morning and he released his placenta sometime in the night between Thursday and Friday.

He has been from the start a very alert, aware baby who radiates love. And today he is three.

Happy Birthday, Gabriel!

Jan

18

Birth Story of Dylan

Birth / Birth Stories / Cesearean Birth / Home Birth Transfer / 2 comments

Planned homebirth of a first baby with NHS midwives. Unexpected turn of events leads to transfer to hospital and ultimately baby is born by Cesearean. Dylan’s mother shares her thoughts on events and what she might do differently next time.

We were so incredibly excited about the birth of our first child who was due 6th April 2011. We didnt know the sex but I had always had in inkling it was going to be a boy. We were all prepared and raring to go. We had planned a homebirth from early on and were feeling positive about the whole thing. I had done some hypnobirthing practice, but on reflection afterwards, not enough.
The week I was due I was feeling a bit fed up, my heartburn was crazy, I couldnt sleep well as my hips were so sore and I was desperate to meet my wee person. Secretly I was hoping he would come early on the 5th April as that was my dads birthday, who died when I was 6 and it would have been nice.
However, he clearly had other plans as the 5th, 6th and 7th came and went with no signs. Friday 8th April I was exhausted and went to bed about 9pm leaving Paul downstairs. Fell asleep but woke about 10pm with cramping in my stomach. I thought I might just have a tummy upset as it felt quite like that but it kept coming and going in waves every 20-25 minutes. So thats how the rest of that night went, falling asleep for 20mins then getting woken up again. In total I must only have had about 4 hours sleep, if that. By 4am I was too uncomfortable so got up and went downstairs and pottered around until Paul got up and I told him I thought this was the start of things. Knowing it would still be a long time he went off to work and I spent the day pottering about between contractions. Things eased a little by late morning. Paul came home from work about 1pm and I suggested we go out for a walk. So we walked round the block very slowly and by time we were getting back I was stopping every 5 minutes with quite painful contractions.
Eventually got back to the house and started timing the contractions more, once they had been coming every 5 minutes for about an hour I thought we should ring the hospital as the community midwives had said to let them know early on so they could plan their day around me as I was a homebirth. The hospital said they would ask a community midwife to pop in.
About 4pm the community midwife, the one who had done my homebirth home check, arrived. She was very lovely and reassuring. She asked if I wanted to be examined and I said yes as I was in a lot of pain and being my first didnt really know what the hell was going on! She examined me and said my cervix was still closed. Inside I was devastated and immediately began to wonder if I could do this, as I was already finding the pain a challenge. I didnt say this out loud though. She said just to carry on moving around, eating and drinking plenty and to phone when the contractions got more regular and stronger.
We somehow occupied ourselves for a few hours before I decided to try to get some rest. This is when I discovered that I could not lay down, in any position, it was absolute agony. I felt like my spine was going to split open. So after about 30mins of trying to get comfortable I came back downstairs. I sat on the dining room chair with a pillow on the table leaning forward on to it. And this is how I spent the next 7 hours, not sleeping at all. By 5am Saturday morning I was pottering around again and now it was getting really painful but contractions not really any closer together. Paul got up and made me some toast which I didnt really want to eat. Paul had to go to work again even though it was upsetting him to do it but I told him to go as there was nothing he could do at home anyway and he was due back around midday. So off he went and I tried to keep myself busy.
By about 1030 am I was almost in tears, the pain in my back was awful. I had my TENS machine on but it actually felt like it was making the pain worse at times so I ended up switching it off. I took some paracetamol and decided I had to phone the hospital as I was starting to struggle. Around 1130am another midwife arrived to check on me, I had met her at our active birthing workshop that our local midwives run and I didnt like her and Paul strongly disliked her! So my heart sunk when I saw her. But a soon as she came in and asked me how I was I burst into tears. I just felt so exhausted and fed up with it all. She was so lovely and reassuring, different to how she was at the class. Shortly after Paul came home and seeing the midwife was immediately in a panic, I told him I just had to call as it was too painful. She offered to examine me and I said yes as I was desperate to know what was going on.
On examination she said I was 1cm dilated, I immediately burst into hysterics. I was absolutely shattered. I was so hoping things had moved further than that but clearly not. I had now been on my feet all day as I couldnt lay down or sit down as the pain was too intense. I was absolutely exhausted. The midwife tried to comfort me and reassure me I was doing well but I didnt feel it! She went off again telling us to phone in again later when things change. I spent a lot of the afternoon crying with Paul trying to encourage me.
The rest of that day is a blur to me, I dont remember much. But by about 11pm I had really had enough and called the midwives again and 2 arrived at about midnight. I had never met either of them before. The only thing that was keeping me going now was that if it got to 8am then my own midwife would be on and she would come and look after me. The 2 midwives were nice, the younger one this was her first homebirth and she was very quiet and calming. The other midwife was a bit more matter of fact and I didnt find her tones always very helpful. They explained that they would be taking my blood pressure and listening to babys heart every hour or so as that was standard procedure at homebirths. At that point I didnt have the strength to argue. The older midwife examined me after I asked them to and I was about 3cm although I think they were being generous to make me feel better! At this point I couldnt comprehend how I could keep going if this is what the pain was like at 3cm.
After about 2hours of being on my knees over the back of the sofa and pottering around they offered to examine me again. The younger one did it this time and said I was still 3cm. I cried and cried. The older midwife asked if I wanted her to examine me to see since she did it last time and could compare. I said yes. I wish I hadnt. She then decided, without asking me, after she had checked how dilated I was to give me a sweep. I have never felt anything so painful in all my life. I was absolutely hysterical with pain and by this point Paul was in tears as well seeing me suffering so much. The younger midwife looked really upset and tried to comfort me. It was only at this point they told me that baby was back to back, they had never mentioned his position before. They said he was trying to turn but was going the long way round which is why it was taking so long and was so painful.
After this I had a large show so the younger midwife helped me upstairs to the bathroom where she apologised for what had happened and said she should have just trusted her own examination and not got her to do it again. During this time they had taken my BP every hour and it had consistently been high. Babys heart rate had been fine though.
The midwives asked me to take a bath to try to get my BP down which I didnt want to do as I didnt want to lay down (and I dont like baths anyway!) but I did it. I tolerated about 20mins in the bath and my BP had come down so they were happy for the moment.
At about 5am they examined me again and said I was probably about 4cm but they wouldnt put it down yet because as soon as they recorded me being 4cm I was in active labour and then the “clock” would start and I would have 12 hours to deliver or I would have to go in to hospital. They took my BP again and it was back up.
At this point Paul was getting quite anxious as he knew things were moving along but he had 2 pupils to take for their driving tests that morning! He had to leave at about 645am to get there in time. I told him just to go as it would still be a good while yet but he was in tears about leaving me.
So Paul left about 645am Monday 11th April as did the younger midwife as it was almost time for midwife changeover. However, the older midwife then took my BP again and it was still high so she said she had to phone the hospital to speak to the midwife in charge to see what they wanted to do. Up until now I still hadnt had any pain relief except paracetamol and occasionally the TENS machine. The midwife suggested I have some gas and air as I was really tense by now and so I took a few sucks and immediately felt in another world! She phoned the hospital and the head midwife said I had to go in. I agreed, not knowing if I could decline but also thinking I dont want anything to go wrong or happen to either of us.
She called an ambulance and went upstairs to get my bags. Ambulance arrived about 5mins later with 2 lovely paramedics who kept me smiling all the way to the hospital, as did their gas and air. I had to text poor Paul and say “dont panic but Im on my way to the hospital, my BP is too high”. I later found out that he read it just when his pupil was driving his car away from the test centre on her test. So he was stranded and very upset.
I got to the hospital and into my room and met my lovely midwife who was so so nice to me. I managed to sit on their bed with the back up for a little while just to rest and regain some strength while she sorted out everything for me. At this point I was going a bit mental with the gas and air and was completely spaced out. I really regret this now. I also realise now that between Sunday morning and this point I hadnt emptied my bladder once, showing how little I had drunk. I also regret this.
At about 1010am Paul arrived in floods of tears, kissing and cuddling me, telling me he was so sorry for leaving me. I told him not to be silly and I was ok. At this point my midwife examined me again and said I was 4cm dilated. I couldnt believe how slowly it was all going. She told me I needed to change my position and suggested on my knees leaning over the back of the bed. I stayed in that position for 2-3 hours and by god I was in pain now, getting really cross at the midwife as she kept having to reposition the pads on my belly reading babies heart rate. Still not sure why I needed that stupid thing on all the time anyway!
At about 2pm I was examined again and was 8cm! I shrieked with delight and midwife said I would probably have my baby in a couple of hours and she started to get everything ready. This is my main point of regret. At this point I think I was so elated to have made progress and so shattered that I just lay on the bed and didnt move. So by time this midwife left at about 330pm nothing much had changed. The new midwife I didnt warm to at all. She seemed very quiet and almost nervous which was making me irritated. She examined me about 4pm and I was still 8cm. I was now in so much pain and so spaced out on gas and air I didnt really know what was going on. I desperately wanted something else for the pain but didnt want pethidine as I didnt want anything crossing the placenta. At about 5pm I consented to an epidural as I had just had enough. I was in tears to Paul saying I had failed and I was sorry I couldnt do it. He was so upset telling me I was doing so well but I felt I was a failure and should have managed without an epidural. The midwife then put up a drip with oxytocin to increase and strengthen my contractions although I said I didnt want it she said it was policy to give it with an epidural. I told her I didnt want stronger and more painful contractions before I had the epidural as I couldnt cope as it was! Paul stuck up for me and said we didnt want it and she kind of just mumbled to herself and said oh well I will have to go and speak to the head midwife about this. She then said well its just a tiny amount it wont really make much difference so we consented, mainly cos we didnt have the strength to argue!
The anaesthetist came straight away and gave me the epidural, which was the scariest thing ever trying to stay still with agonising contractions! But once it was in the relief was instant. I could have kissed the anaesthetist I was just so happy to be able to rest for a few minutes without being in pain.
The babies heart rate then started dropping although at this point Paul was sitting beside me holding the transducer onto my belly as it wouldnt stay on! Paul kept saying to the midwife couldnt it just be because its not a very good reading and im having to hold it on but nobody seemed to listen. The registrar then attended who was lovely and just said we would monitor it for another hour or so. When it wasnt any better he asked if I would consent to foetal blood sampling from the babies scalp. As I was concerned about my baby and not convinced by the CTG I consented. He took the first sample and went off and came back saying the machine couldnt read it so could he do it again. So he did. He took the second sample off and then came back and said it didnt work either so he thinks the machine is broken.
He then offered to examine me and I said yes, he said I was 9cm dilated but there was a lip of cervix that wasnt dilating. He said instrumental delivery wasnt really possible due to the lip and I said quite strongly I did not want forceps anyway. He then said to leave it for another hour to see what happens and he would also get the consultant in to see me.
Consultant came in a bit later and explained that they couldnt really know if baby was in real distress or not although the heart rate appeared to be dropping somewhat. He said I could either wait for another hour to see if I dilated fully or I could go for a c-section. This was about 8pm by this point. He said if I wanted a section I could go now, there was nobody in theatre and it would happen straight away.

I spoke to Paul and we agreed I would go for section. I signed the consent form but didnt read it properly as they told me to as I couldnt even see properly after 3 nights of no sleep and the gas and air!!
At this point my 3rd midwife came on duty and she was lovely, very upbeat and reassuring. They took me straight to theatre topped up my epidural. All the theatre staff were lovely and the anaesthetist introduced them all to me. My registrar was going off duty so introduced me to another lady registrar who was going to do the section. My epidural top up had caused my arms to start shaking which I couldnt stop and also my nose became completely blocked and I generally just felt very unwell as I laid there. The rest is a bit of a blur but I remember a bit of murmuring and then the consultant was suddenly assisting the registrar. There was a huge amount of pushing and pulling including the consultant shouting “push push push” at the registrar as they both thrust at my abdomen. At 859pm I then felt something lift out of me and a few seconds later a reassuring cry. Paul burst into tears but I just felt quite distant from it all. My midwife carried him over to the scales and I told Paul to go and see what we had. He rushed back to me blubbing “its a boy”. We exchanged lots of kisses then Paul went back to see him. Paul then came back with this little bundle all cosy and calm. I couldnt hold him as my arms were shaking so much and I didnt feel the rush of love I had been so hoping for although I was of course over the moon.
We both then became aware that something wasnt quite right. There was a lot of discussion going on behind the screen and a lot of pushing. The anaesthetist was peering over and I asked him if everything was ok and he just said yes its fine. A few minutes later another doctor or nurse must have come in that we couldnt see, presumably telling the consultant he was needed elsewhere. This is when he said something along the lines of “Yes, ok, but can I stop this girl from bleeding to death first”. I didnt respond and I think Paul thought, and still does think, that I didnt hear it. I was scared. But after about 45 minutes of sewing they said it was all done.
I was taken out of theatre and the registrar came in and explained that I had started to bleed after she had made the incision so she had called in the consultant to help as she felt it was out of her expertise. I was grateful to her for her honesty and her willingness to acknowledge her limitations, else goodness knows what might have happened. Then at about 1015pm my arms stopped shaking enough for me to hold my baby. He was gorgeous and perfect. I was in love. And I knew that despite the trauma we had gone through I would do it all again for him.