A Birth Letter To My Child
This is intense.
It’s my birthday today so I figured I would share the birth of my son.
Please know that this is my son’s birth story through the eyes of someone who felt like they had a traumatic birth. It was written 5 days postpartum, after a grueling and debilitating HG pregnancy, 5 weeks of exhausting prodromal labor, and ZERO knowledgable birth support. I had taken the hospital birth classes, read all the books, and done all the things on Pinterest that I was supposed to.
This is the birth that led me down the path of birth work. It was viewed through lack of proper education in childbirth, nurse coercion/medicine pushing, and lack of being informed on what was going on or happening. I felt like I had ZERO proper birth support.
I debated even posting this because it’s so personal, but it was also written as a newly postpartum parent trying to make sense of the trauma they had experienced. Not all hospital births are like this. There are even out of hospital births that are traumatizing to the birthing person. I will say though, if I had had a doula, it would’ve made ALL the difference. If I had a proper support team on my side, it would not have been perceived as traumatizing as it was.
YOUR BIRTH TEAM IS SO IMPORTANT.
A letter to my son.
Dear my little love,
I had had roughly 5 weeks of prodromal (false) labor prior to going into real labor. I had gone into triage multiple times for contractions, always to be sent home. I was given Nifedipine (blood pressure medication) at 34 weeks to try and stop the contractions. Unfortunately the meds just made me stay awake (and feel borderline crazy) and didn’t help with the contractions at all. So I refused to take them. The last time we went to triage before real labor was for reduced fetal movements at 37 weeks. Thankfully everything turned out fine, but after not feeling you move for almost 8 hours, when you were constantly Kung Fu fighting in my belly, was extremely nerve wracking. The last half an hour I was hooked up to the monitors you began moving normally again and I was able to breathe a little easier.
I noticed the contractions began to change the night of July 6th. They began to wake me up at night which previously they hadn’t been doing that. July 7th was a Friday, and I told your dad to stay by his phone that day while he was at work after being woken by a fairly strong contraction. I didn’t think I would go into full blown labor just yet, but just in case I needed him ready to leave. Surprisingly he had to leave work early that day anyways to take me to Urgent Care for other reasons not pertaining to labor. Again, that night, the contractions kept waking me up. I timed the contractions both Friday and Saturday and they were all over the place. There was no rhyme or reason to them. They would be 10 minutes apart, and then 45 minutes apart. Then I would have a few that were 3 minutes apart and then not have any for an hour. I had no clue what was going on but I did know for sure that the contractions had to be real. That entire Saturday dad and I laid low. Dad cleaned the bedroom while I laid in bed talking to my close friend Meagan about the contractions and watched TV. Once dad finished cleaning he began to play some video games on his computer. It was at this point that I had a few extremely painful contractions that lasted a few minutes long. If I moved, the pain intensified. I couldn’t speak through them and had to focus on breathing. The last big one I had, I sat up in bed with my legs on floor and the pain was crippling. I didn’t know what to do to make the pain go away. I tried to lay back down but that just made it hurt worse. So I stood up and realized that it felt like your head was about to pop out. I texted Meagan asking her if she knew by chance what was going on and she said it sounded like real labor and that I should go into triage. I waddled into the office and sat down, exhausted, and told your dad what had happened and what Meagan had said. He asked to take a shower, we got ready, and we were off to triage to see what was going on.
During the drive down there, we hit traffic but it wasn’t that bad since I only had one major contraction. Dad did miss the exit to the freeway we needed though, as you’ll find out, he doesn’t do very well under pressure. But it was really cute. When we got to triage I was beyond nauseous. I was able to not puke the whole drive down there, for some reason the moment we checked in, I asked for an emesis bag and began to vomit in the waiting room. You made me vomit the whole pregnancy so this wasn’t anything new. The entire time in triage was pretty routine, they made me pee in a cup, hooked me up to the monitors, checked my cervix (I was dilated 3 cm and 50% effaced, still in early labor), and then watched you like a hawk on the monitors. My contractions were lasting about 5 minutes long, so extremely long and exhausting. After a few hours of being there they told dad and I that we were going to be discharged and sent home and that it’d be just a few more minutes. When the nurse finally came back, she said she had spoken to the OB on call and she had changed her mind because they couldn’t get a baseline heart rate for you. You kept moving so much. She “couldn’t in good conscience discharge me without knowing you were completely safe.” The nurse looked at your dad and I and said, “We’re going to induce you tonight.” Your dad almost immediately began to cry. This was about 9:45 pm. We waited a little while longer (about 15 minutes or so) for another nurse to come get us and bring us to our room. We arrived in the delivery room a little after 10 pm.
For the first hour or so being in the delivery room, it was the typical setting everything up; paperwork, IV, antibiotics (tested positive for Group B Strep), and finally Pitocin. They started pushing the Pitocin at around 11 pm on July 8th. Initially, the contractions were almost enjoyable. They weren’t painful but they were regular after a few hours on it. As time progressed, the nurses kept upping the Pitocin to try and get things going. One of the nurses, who initially rubbed me the wrong way (she was abrasive like me) turned out to be one of my favorites. At around 7 am on July 9th she began her shift I believe. She had a Russian accent and a different name (which for the life of me I cannot remember and it is beyond frustrating). She noticed that my contractions were about a minute apart but I wasn’t any more than 4 cm dilated at that point. She slowed the Pitocin to give me a break. The OB on call that had kept me the previous night, had come back in and talked to me about breaking my waters at some point that morning to see if your head would fully engage and dilate my cervix more. You still weren’t engaged at this point. I agreed, even though I knew that the moment they broke my waters, all my dreams of having a drug free labor/delivery were out the window. The horror stories that I had heard came rearing their ugly heads in the mind but I knew that one way or another, you were going to be making your entrance.
At around 11 am on July 9th the OB came back in to break my water. Let me tell you child, the feeling of having that done was the oddest and borderline most disturbing feelings in the world. And unfortunately I was right about the pain. Within 5 minutes of having my water broken the excruciating pain began. The tears began to fall as the labor I had planned for and so desperately wanted faded into a dream. I caved and requested an epidural. The anesthesiologist came in no more than 10 minutes after to administer the epidural and once it was in, it slowly began to work. It provided some relief but not what everyone had described. It wasn’t a godsend that took all the pain away. It didn’t provide sweet relief. It numbed my legs and some parts down there, but I could still feel your head bearing down on my bottom. I cried, I couldn’t help it. I had caved and gotten the epidural, I had given into receiving pain meds, and they weren’t working. I had given up the labor I wanted for what felt like nothing. I was hurt and in pain. Figuratively and literally. For hours, I complained of the pain. I complained that it felt like your head was going to come out of my bottom. They gave me oxygen because your heart rate fluctuated depending on which side of my body I was laying on. I couldn’t get out of bed, and I couldn’t roll over by myself. Your dad and Carly at this point, I honestly couldn’t tell you what they were doing or saying because I was so lost in trying to function through the pain. I was deep within my own thoughts but remember hearing your dad crying and I couldn’t do anything about it. It hurt my heart. At some point, someone checked my cervix and I was 7 cm dilated. Still not enough for you to come yet but there was progress. I believe this was around 4 pm or so. I could be wrong. I again repeat that I was very much in my own mind because of the pain. Thankfully though, my Russian nurse had the anesthesiologist come again and give me another round of the epidural. This was the first time in hours that I was able to breathe a sigh of relief. That I could turn to Sam and Carly and talk to them. I realized that after the second dose of the epidural I was completely numb from right below my chest to my feet. And I mean completely numb. I couldn’t feel anything but pressure, and I couldn’t move anything. I had to have my nurse(s) move my legs when I wanted to roll over. It was also at this point, that we realized your heart rate dropped if I was laying on my right side. So back to my left I went. My hips were not happy about it either. I was able to function and be a part of the world around me for a few hours and at about 8:00 pm or so I began to feel a ton of pressure in my butt. I mean a TON of pressure. I told my nurses (which they were having a hard time believing me, we had a shift change as well and Lindsay was my main nurse). They kept asking if it was a constant pressure or if it came and went. I told them it was more of a constant pressure. She checked my cervix to see how dilated I was and low and behold I was 10 cm! It was time to push! It was about 8:45 pm now.
Lindsay began to set everything up, she moved me onto my back, and during contractions had me begin pushing. If anything to figure out how to push properly. I pushed on my back for about 15-20 minutes, but really struggled with it. At this point I was also trying really hard not to vomit everywhere. I couldn’t feel my legs so I couldn’t move them. I could barely hold onto them and ended up throwing out my neck because of it so your dad and Carly ended up helping hold them. Not to mention the light headedness that I was experiencing because of all the strain. I needed to take a break for a few contractions and find a new position to push because this one wasn’t working. They also gave me oxygen which your dad was in charge of giving me on the down time between contractions. Lindsay offered to position me on my right side, holding onto one leg and bearing down that way and that position was so much more comfortable. I was able to hold onto the side of the bed and really bear down and push properly. I also noticed the feeling in my legs coming back so I was able to pick them up and hold them myself. Your dad was still in charge of the oxygen. I asked your dad for my emesis bag (vomit bag) and began to violently throw up in it. Lindsay ended up getting me a cool wet cloth to place on my forehead. She then needed to go on her 15 minute break and another nurse came in. I could feel you moving through the birth canal as I was vomiting but I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop vomiting and I couldn’t stop pushing. After not being able to eat for what felt like eternity, I barely had enough energy to throw up. And now I was being asked to push you into this world. I literally felt like I was dying. I had no energy, I had no want to do it anymore. I was scared beyond what words can describe. It was also at this point that I wanted to give up and get a cesarean section because I just didn’t have the energy to push anymore. I had gone through so much already, that what I felt like they were asking me to do was just too much. I was afraid my body would give out. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to do it.
I told the nurse I needed to push. I couldn’t stop it anymore. She asked for me to roll on my back so she could go get the doctor. You know on your back with your legs and feet spread even though it’s uncomfortable for the mother, it’s easiest for the doctor. I got into position and began to push, but I couldn’t control it. The nurses were running around the room and down the hall in an attempt to get the doctor and set everything up. They had to call a specialty team just for you because of your heart rate randomly dropping. The nurse kept telling me to stop pushing, she sounded irritated, and I kept telling her I couldn’t. I needed to push. She then said “ ok small pushes. Just small pushes.” The doctor couldn’t fucking get there fast enough. It was about 9:20 pm now when the doctor finally sat down between my legs and said “Ok. Push.” Lindsay was back in the room holding my left leg (she was apparently running down the hall to get to the room fast enough to make it to your delivery as well). Your dad was still sitting on my right with the oxygen and cool wash cloth. I lost track of where Carly was. I remember this rush of energy coursing through my body and I felt you getting closer and closer to exiting. I felt the doctor pressing down there around your head. With each contraction I could tell you were on your way out. Things get a little fuzzy here, but I remember being yelled at by the doctor and the nurses to push, “PUSH. PUSH. PUSH HARDER. GET HIM OUT.” I gave you every ounce of energy I had, I roared at the top of my lungs for the last few pushes, because in my mind that helped. It alleviated the stress. I needed you to come into this world alive. I needed you to be ok. I needed you safe in my arms. We had been through so much already. And the only thing I could think of doing to get you here was yell. Yell my frustrations. Yell my pain. Roar my child into this world.
And then I felt you leave my body and enter this world. And I waited. I waited to hear your beautiful cry. I waited for any sound to come out of your purple body. I found out a little later that you had the cord wrapped around your neck and that’s most likely why your heart rate fluctuated. That’s why the doctor held onto you a little longer, because he was unwrapping the cord from your neck. It was longest wait of my life. They finally put you on my chest and Lindsay began to rub you down with a towel. I began to pat your back still waiting for you to cry. When you finally did, all I could do was tell you “That’s it bud. Keep crying. There you go. You got it bud. Breathe. That’s a good cry.” The doctor clamped your umbilical cord and your dad cut it. I realized at that moment as the doctor was beginning to try and deliver the placenta that I felt everything. That the epidural wore off before you had entered this world. I was able to feel e v e r y t h i n g. And that made me happy. I. Felt. Everything. I told the nurses this as the doctor was stitching me up, and they pushed a little more meds through the epidural to take the edge of what he doing down there but at that point I didn’t care. You were just laying content on my chest, skin to skin, as everyone was doing what they needed to do around us. Your dad was crying and Carly ended up going home when things settled down to give us time together. A nurse took a picture of the three of us. The first family photo. And it is from there that the recovery process began. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. That in and of itself, is another story. But you’re here, safe and sound. And that’s the most important thing. I would do it all again in a heartbeat, just for you.
Your birth team can make or break your birth experience.
The biggest reason I became a birth worker was so that no one else would experience what I did. Hindsight is always 20/20, but during my birth experience I felt bullied into doing things I didn’t want to do. Like breaking my waters, there was literally no reason to, especially since my son wasn’t engaged in my pelvis yet.
But like I said hindsight is 20/20. There’s so much more I know now about birth and our options. There’s tricks and positions that could’ve been done that I do on a regular basis with my own clients now. Proper out of hospital education makes a world of difference.
Knowledge is power. Knowing your options is power. They’re the key in feeling like you have control over a situation or decision. And that feeling of control can help reduce trauma (whether real or perceived).
My goal for all of my client’s is a positive birth experience. That is what we work towards.