by KMom
Copyright © 2000-2009 KMom@Vireday.Com. All rights reserved.
This FAQ last updated: June 2009
DISCLAIMER: The information on this website is not intended and should not be construed as medical advice. Consult your health provider.
BBW Birth Story Pages
BBW Birth Stories: C-Section Stories
CONTENTS
Over the years, many women have requested a section for birth stories of plus-sized moms.
Women of size often come into pregnancy with so many fears imposed on them by others that it's important to have reassurance that other large women have indeed done this before.
Pregnancy books and most websites do not fulfill this need; mostly they are filled with warnings about "obesity" and pregnancy, admonitions not to get pregnant until you lose weight, dire predictions of disastrous pregnancies filled with complications, or horror stories designed to scare you into weight loss compliance.
Although there are many birth stories online, most are of women of average-size. While these are also helpful to read, many women of size have longed for a collection of stories of just plus-sized pregnancy----birth in all its beauty, and birth in all its variety in women of size. It is so important for us to see that many of our fat sisters have traveled this journey before us.
This is a collection of BBW (Big Beautiful Women) Birth Stories collected by Kmom over the years. Stories have been separated into various categories (vaginal birth, c-sections, twins, VBACs, etc.). Because some stories fit more than one category, many will repeat on different pages. Some stories are already up on the web in a more complete form elsewhere; with the mother's permission, Kmom has linked to these sites and urges readers to click on the link and read the more complete story.
Unless specifically requested, all identifying information has been removed or changed to protect the privacy of the participants.
All stories are copyrighted; none may be used elsewhere without specific written permission from both Kmom and the mother involved.
This particular FAQ presents the stories of the cesarean births many women of size have experienced.
Big moms do have a higher cesarean rate, though many are probably unnecessary. For some large women, a cesarean is no big deal, for others it is unwanted but endurable, and for still others it is a horror story, full of fat-phobic treatment or intense trauma. How women of size experience cesareans is as varied as women are.
Since big moms are often not given the chance to pursue Vaginal Birth After Cesarean (VBAC), Kmom has also made a point of adding a section showing that many fat women HAVE turned their cesarean births into vaginal births as well. Giving birth by cesarean does not mean that you always have to give birth that way; fat women DO have VBACs too.
However, the point of this FAQ is not to promote one particular style of birth, but to show the wide spectrum of births that women of size have experienced, and this includes cesareans, repeat cesareans, and VBACs. All of these are represented in this FAQ.
More stories will be added over time, so keep checking back if you are interested in reading further stories. If you are interested in sharing your birth story, click here for more information, birth story format, and submission guidelines.
New birth stories are always welcome; Kmom updates the birth stories FAQs about once a year so be patient for your story to show up. If you do submit your story, please carefully follow the format and directions given in order to shorten the amount of work involved for Kmom. Kmom's family will thank you!
C-Sections: Different Meanings for Different Women
Do Large Women Have a Higher Rate of C-Sections?
In general, larger women DO have higher rates of c-sections, for many reasons. They tend to have somewhat higher rates of complicating conditions that often result in c-sections (pre-eclampsia, gd, PCOS which often results in pre-eclampsia or gd, etc.). In addition, although it's not true for all fat women by any means, some fat women are out-of-shape and don't eat properly or exercise, which also tends to increase the rate of complications in pregnancy. Unfortunately, medical studies rarely differentiate between large women who take excellent care of themselves and those who do not, making the risks seem to apply equally based on size alone. Therefore, many providers apply interventions equally to all women of size, when only a few may actually need them.
Large women also suffer size prejudice; there are OBs that force their fat patients to sign elective c/s permission forms early in pregnancy long before it could possibly be justified as 'necessary', who berate their fat patients over any pound gained or tell them to lose 40 lbs. while pregnant, or tell their fat patients they will have a heart attack and die during labor (yes, these are true stories!). Or the size prejudice can be somewhat subtle, from doctors expecting that you WILL develop complications (often a self-fulfilling prophecy), to treating you as ultra high-risk or telling you that you'll probably not deliver vaginally anyway, etc.
Or the size prejudice can be extremely subtle, such as the very common practice of inducing large women early so the babies will be smaller (a practice shown in medical research to actually increase the c/s rate instead of decreasing it). Studies show that large women are induced at much higher rates than average-sized women, and often are not given the same chances at Vaginal Birth After Cesarean that average-sized women may get, resulting in more repeat c-sections. All of this increases the c/s rate, but is mostly due to patterns of provider bias rather than problems inherent to being heavy.
Another example of this is the recent news release which trumpeted the high rate of c/s of fat women at a certain hospital and then suggested that large women should have an epidural put in place early in labor so that if a c/s is needed she is all ready. Since a number of studies and meta-analyses have found that epidurals (especially in the beginning of labor) result in higher rates of c/s, and these doctors have already been told to expect fat women to 'need' a c/s, the number of fat women having a c/s at this hospital is likely to remain high. Is it the fat causing the high c/s rates, the patterns of provider treatment and expectations, or both?
In addition, there are often subtle psychological battles for large women to combat as well. Many fat women have been programmed all their lives to believe their bodies are 'defective', incapable of performing normally, and often have very significant body trust issues that tend to come out during pregnancy and birth. They are often disempowered by the people around them, who may make them feel like they should apologize for even 'daring' to be pregnant at a larger size. They often face a world hostile to the idea of larger women having romance, let alone having sex or giving birth! Most childbirth books are full of dire warnings about being pregnant at a larger size, and these horror stories and warnings tend to lead large women not to expect a normal birth. Some research also suggests that larger women have a higher rate of being abused (especially sexually) which could also easily increase the c/s rate as well.
So although larger women tend to have higher rates of c-sections than average-sized women, it is unclear how much is due to problems from size and health concerns, how much is due to provider bias and patterns of expectations, and how much is due to deeply-placed body trust and empowerment issues. However, it's worth noting that many 'alternative' birth attendants note that with proactive attention to health, nutrition, exercise, and empowerment issues, they have found that even very large women usually have excellent birth outcomes.
Although larger women currently DO have higher c/s rates, it is NOT a given that a large women must have a c/s. In fact, midwifery studies show that even with bias and emotional baggage and complications, the MAJORITY OF LARGE WOMEN STILL HAVE NORMAL VAGINAL BIRTHS MOST OF THE TIME.
Research from the 50s, 60s, and 70s shows that cesarean rates in women of size used to be much lower. If fat were truly an intractable cause of cesareans, these low cesarean rates would not have been possible even back then. In fact, many studies then showed that fat women had no higher cesarean rates than other women. It is practice patterns and expectations that have changed the cesarean rate in women of size, not size itself.
Now, many OBs and even midwives believe that having a cesarean is a logical consequence of being fat; that fat women cannot birth normally. But we know from history and the many fat women today who choose alternative births that this is not true. Fat women could birth normally in the past, and today they can STILL birth vaginally.
With truly supportive and unbiased care providers, a proactive attitude towards nutrition and exercise, and an empowered and informed approach to birth, the c/s rate for fat women can almost certainly be reduced greatly. Unfortunately, the biggest obstacle is sometimes getting people to believe that this is possible, or even to care that it happen. But together, we can act to change this indifference. Women, fat or thin, do NOT all need to be cut open in order to have a baby.
Here are two articles that discuss why women of size have high cesarean rates and give concrete ideas for lowering your risk for an unnecessary cesarean:
Women Who Love Their C-Sections and Women Who Hate Them
In our current societal climate, it is true that a significant percentage of larger women do have c-sections. Some then go on to have subsequent vaginal births (VBACs), some try to have vaginal births but end up with repeat c-sections, and some are happy to choose another c-section and bypass vaginal births altogether. In fact, as in average-sized society, there are occasionally even women who actually prefer to have a c-section from the very beginning and are relieved if they develop a condition which necessitates one.
C-sections can be a very political issue. It is very important that we all understand that a c-section means different things to different women, and to RESPECT our differences of opinion over that fact. For some women, a c-section experience can be almost akin to rape or assault, yet for others it can be a perfectly normal or even gratifying experience. There is a great deal of bad feeling generated on email lists between those who 'love' their c-sections and those who do not. The key is to try to understand and empathize with the other person's feelings and recognize their right to have a different opinion.
To a woman who has had a c-section and is not happy with it, it is insulting to be told that the important thing is that the baby is healthy and it doesn't really matter how the baby gets there. Of course the most important thing is a healthy baby, but for many women it does matter how the baby arrives. To have a disappointing or disempowering birth experience DOES matter; to have that experience dismissed as unimportant or insignificant is tremendously frustrating. The mother matters too.
In some cases, a c-section truly is life-saving and the mom can be grateful it was there to help. While some women feel only gladness and relief over a life-saving cesarean, it is completely understandable and normal that some women might still feel upset after a frightening or less-than-ideal birth experience. Even when a cesarean is truly necessary, women can have ambivalent or even negative feelings about it.
However, many c-sections are not necessary, or only become necessary after a great deal of intervention and questionable management. Some studies estimate that almost 50% of c-sections in the U.S. are not truly necessary! Imagine the bitterness of moms who must face not only their disappointment in having a c-section, but also to know that it was probably an unnecessary one. That's a tremendously bitter pill to swallow, and it has long-lasting implications for any subsequent pregnancies and births.
Women who are disappointed in their births need and deserve to grieve that experience, despite being thrilled to have a baby in their arms. Yet few moms with disappointing births are allowed that space to grieve. They are often told to 'just get over it' or to 'move on' with their lives, or 'just be grateful' they have a baby. But although most women valiantly try to move on, it is very difficult to move on until the original experience has been fully grieved, and there is very little understanding of this in our society in general. A c-section is simply thought of as 'no big deal' and just a 'different way' to give birth. Women who feel differently are rarely given validation or space for their feelings, but it is possible to love your baby deeply yet still have ambivalent feelings about how they arrived.
On the other hand, some women 'love' their c-sections and would never choose any other way to give birth. Some women have histories of sexual abuse and are uncomfortable with feelings 'down there' and may find a c/s less threatening. Some women truly fear labor pain or the uncertainty and messiness of labor, and a c/s can feel like a relief, a 'way out' of emotionally threatening circumstances. Some women fear episiotomy or tearing more than major abdominal surgery, and to them, a c/s may feel less threatening.
Some women have had prior long hard labors (often induced), full of pain and difficulty coping; in this circumstance a cesarean can feel like a dream come true, a 'rescue' from an unending cycle of pain and exhaustion. Some women who have experienced traumatic labors choose a planned cesarean in a future birth in order to avoid any repeat of the same difficult scenario; they see it as a way to protect themselves from experiencing that trauma all over again, and as a way of "controlling" the experience and making it more predictable.
For some women, a c-section was a truly necessary intervention and they only feel deeply grateful it was available. It might not be how they would ideally have given birth, but they have come to a place of peace with how the baby arrived and are thankful
Some women simply don't see a c/s as 'any big deal' and don't really care how the baby comes out. Some women are relieved to simply schedule their birth and remove all the unknowns; the enticement of a known and familiar outcome is less threatening than the uncertainty of not knowing what the outcome will be.
There are as many reasons for 'loving a c/s' as there are flowers under the sun; no one should be made to feel bad or 'less than a woman' for having had a c/s.
Women who are not disappointed in their births also need and deserve to treasure that experience, even if it doesn't meet someone else's expectations of a 'good birth'. No one should have the right to make someone else feel bad about their birthing experience. Although our society is currently mostly supportive of women who have had c-sections and liked them, occasionally you will find people who may try to tell you that you are 'less of a woman' for having birthed differently, or that you 'wimped out' when you chose the c/s, or that you are 'defective' for having needed a c/s. Not so!
Nor should women who did not love their c-section be made to feel like they are ungrateful wretches who place their own selfish experience above the baby's well-being, or that they are emotionally stunted because they are still working through negative feelings about the cesarean. Their feelings are just as valid, and they deserve the space to mourn that experience and those feelings too.
In the end, most women who undergo a c/s do it because at the time they feel it is best for their babies and/or themselves. To undergo major surgery for another person is an act of love, no matter the circumstances.
It is VITALLY important that we understand that as women we all come to our c/s experiences with different expectations, needs, fears, and 'emotional stacks' (previous experiences that color our interpretation of a new experience). For some women, a c/s can be a disappointment, a hurtful experience, or even a trauma beyond measuring. For other women, it is simply no big deal, a tremendous relief, or a treasured and beautiful memory.
We need to understand and RESPECT that our feelings and reactions may not apply to someone else's experience, and to allow them the space to have different feelings than our own.
About This Cesarean Stories FAQ
In this FAQ, all kinds of c/s stories are told. Some cesareans herein clearly saved the lives of the baby and/or mother, some cesareans were questionable, and some cesarean experiences were clearly horror stories. Some women were delighted to have a c/s, while some women, far from being delighted, likened the experience to being raped.
This FAQ is a kaleidoscope of all different kinds of cesarean stories and reactions. Readers are urged to understand and respect all the varying perspectives on c/s herein.
Bias Disclaimer: Kmom has had 2 c-sections, one a truly horrible experience and one a relatively good and loving experience. Thereafter, she also had 2 VBACs (Vaginal Birth After Cesarean). Although she has not personally voluntarily chosen a c/s, she fully understands the lure and appeal of it, and she does not judge women who make an educated decision for a c/s. Please do not read that into this FAQ.
However, Kmom's personal opinion is that as a society far too many women (and especially fat women) are being cut unnecessarily, and that this has deep public health implications that should not be ignored. Cesareans are NOT simply 'another way to give birth' because they DO have significant health risks and implications for future births. You will find this opinion reflected in Kmom's commentary. However, this is in NO way a judgment about any woman who is happy with her c-section or who chooses further c-sections in the future. For some women, a c/s can be a wonderful experience or a truly unimportant way of getting the baby into the world. Although Kmom does not feel that a c/s should be a commonplace method for birth as a society, she does not judge individuals' decisions.
Most moms will recognize most of these terms, but women new to reading about childbirth may be puzzled by some of the terms and abbreviations used in these stories. This section briefly defines some of these in order to help women understand the stories better.
Shawn's Story (c/s, posterior)
Kmom's Notes: The circumstances of the labor suggests that this baby might have been posterior and gotten 'stuck'. Shawn confirms that her baby was indeed 'sunny side up' but that this was not noted in her medical records. This is not unusual; many doctors don't see posterior position as relevant and fail to note it in records or mention it to parents, yet many other providers feel that it is the cause of many c-sections. Positioning often helps facilitate rotation, but Shawn was not able to try these.
Also, although the midwife felt that rupturing the bag of waters more fully would help dilation by bringing baby farther down, doing this tends to fix baby in its poor position and make a normal vaginal birth difficult to impossible. Breaking the bag of waters is the last thing that should be done if baby is in a poor position for birth.
Birth Story
When I went to see my OB about fertility treatments, I remember one of her first comments being, "You really should try to lose some weight prior to beginning treatment...but I have had patients close to your size who have conceived." "Whatever," I thought, "just give me the prescription." After the first cycle of Clomid, we conceived and we were both surprised and elated. MY OB was skeptical, however, and ran at least 3 progesterone tests and two ultrasounds before she was convinced.
My physician had not been derogatory in our visits, but I was concerned about her pessimistic approach to my care. After my second U/S the technician was able to see the baby's heartbeat. What a sigh of relief! Prior to seeing the U/S the doctor kind of walked back and forth past me as though she was preparing to give me bad news. When the U/S Technician finally put the report in the doctor's box she appeared amazed that it turned out so well and then stuttered over the words "Have you rescheduled your OB appointment yet?" Of course I hadn't because a week prior, she had told my to wait to schedule the appointment until after the U/S (as if to say if it's bad there will be no NEED for an OB appointment) So much for positive thinking!
After a great 'start OB care' appointment the doctor commented, "Things look really good, but because of your low progesterone I don't want you to get your hopes up until after the first trimester." I thought I would never get the green light that my pregnancy was fine. Although the pregnancy had been progressing fine and all signs were good, she was treating me as though the pregnancy was a risky one. Her attitude when I visited her was usually apathetic. I remember feeling that she just couldn't believe that someone my size was having such a healthy pregnancy. Nine UNEVENTFUL months later...to the day (my original due date had been 11/20, but was changed to 11/13 after my third U/S), I began my birthing journey:
Wednesday: False labor pains begin at 2:00 AM and continue on and off throughout the morning and afternoon. About 3:00PM I lost the first of what would be several parts of my mucous plug followed by general crampiness for the rest of the day and evening.
Thursday, 12:00 AM: Contractions begin at 7-10 minutes apart. I figured it was more false labor pains since I had not had a bloody show (but ultimately learned that these were in fact the real thing). I called my midwife when the office opened at 9:00. She thought I may be right in assessing the pain as false labor. I had not slept all night from the pain and she prescribed a sleeping pill. She said, "If it's false labor, the pills will stop them and you'll sleep, but if it's the real thing, you won't be able to sleep through the contractions." I decided not to take the pill just in case. I didn't want to be in pain AND groggy!
At 2:00 PM my water broke (although it wasn't as much water as I had expected) and the midwife asked me to come in to be checked. Once there, she confirmed that it in fact my water had broken and then informed me that the fluid was stained with meconium. She also stated that I was only 1 cm dilated and at this point I had been in labor for over 13 hours. She recommended pitocin to get things going. I'd learned that those moms induced with pitocin had very hard labor pains and my midwife confirmed that this may be the case. I told her that I wanted to try it without an epidural and knowing the c/s rate for overweight women, reminded her how important it was to me to wait as long as possible before a C-section was considered. We then left for the hospital.
4:30 PM Contractions still irregular and topping off between 70 and 80. I am confined to bed with external fetal monitor. I am told that I may be able to walk the length of the bed if the baby responds okay to the contractions. So far so good.
8:00 PM After 18 hours of labor, the pain is more than I can handle. I admit defeat and request the epidural.
10:00 PM According to the monitor, contractions are double and triple peaking at 100. I breath a sigh of relief that I can't feel anything but pressure. Midwife checks and I'm still only dilated 3 cm. She waits for a contraction and stretches the cervix another 3 cm to 6!
Friday,12:00 AM: Midwife tells me there have been a few drops in the baby's heartbeat and asks to insert an internal monitor for more accurate readings. Realizing this would confine me to the bed but wanting to do what was best for the baby, I reluctantly agreed. Midwife discovers that my bag of waters had not completely ruptured and may have been delaying the baby's drop into the pelvis. She breaks the sack and the baby moves to -1 station. (NOTE: looking back, I realize that if we had know this back at the office, I may have avoided using the pitocin altogether since the unruptured sac was preventing the baby from moving down into the pelvis, thus stimulating more productive contractions.)
3:00 AM Dilated 6-7 cm. I am exhausted and disappointed, but ask to be given more time before considering a C-section.
4:30 The midwife brings in the doctor-on-call to evaluate. The baby had several heartbeat decelerations after contractions and she was concerned. I am dilated 8 cm and he tells me to push although I have not yet felt the urge. It is unproductive and a C-section is recommended. I begin to cry from the exhaustion and disappointment, but after 28.5 hours, I agree.
5:10 AM Our darling daughter is born. We had chosen not to learn the sex of the baby and although we both wanted a girl, we felt very strongly it was a boy. When the doctor announced "IT'S A GIRL" I cried and cried and cried. She was suctioned well and the meconium had minimal effects on her. Apgars 8 and 9. My husband left to go video the baby for me and I was whisked off to recovery.
I invested a lot of time developing my birth plan and although this is the farthest from my dream birth, my daughter far surpasses any hopes I had for my baby. There were times during the months following her birth when I thought I could have done something differently to lessen the need for the c/s, but in time I have learned to focus less on the way she arrived, and more the sheer joy she brings me and my husband now that she is HERE! I wish all of you the best in your pregnancies and pray that each of you have an uneventful labor and delivery.
akp's CS Story (induction for macrosomia, botched cesarean, surgical complications)
Kmom's Notes: Her c/s story is a good lesson in all the things that can go wrong during a c/s and afterwards, and why inducing for a "big baby" is usually a bad idea. Things were bad; fortunately they didn't turn out even worse.
Birth Story
In 2001, my husband and I were told that I had almost zero chance of becoming pregnant (we had been trying for over a year) and that if we did get pregnant, that I had almost zero chance of carrying to term. The reasoning given for my inability to get pregnant were: polycystic ovaries, hypothyroidism, a tipped uterus, twisted fallopian tube and I am overweight (270s at the time). I realize now how ridiculous most of these reasons are, but I had doctor worship issues at the time. So, we decided to start saving to adopt.
In 2002, I found myself pregnant. At the first visit (7 weeks), the doctor sent me straight to a perinatologist because I was too high risk. The peri couldn't find a heart beat, so he told me that I most likely was going to miscarry and to schedule the D&C as soon as possible. I was heartbroken, but I believed him. However, I didn't schedule because I needed to hold onto hope for this blessing in our lives. At 8 weeks, I went to the ER with major abdominal cramping--thinking I probably was miscarrying. They did an ultrasound and again, couldn't get a good heart beat, but said everything looked normal and that there wasn't any bleeding. So, they looked around and found a large cyst forming on one of my ovaries. I was told again that I should abort b/c the cyst would most likely interfere, if not burst while pregnant, causing an infection to me at a minimum--death all around at worst.
Hubby and I just could not wrap our heads around why we would be given such a blessing, only to have it taken away. So, we decided to wait and see. At 10 weeks, we saw the Peri again - he did another ultrasound and finally found a good heart beat. Yay. Of course, he also saw the cyst and a fibroid on top of the uterus. The cyst had grown since the ER visit, but the fibroid was small. Again, he recommended abortion b/c we were "running out of time" and it was unlikely I'd carry to term anyway.
(Grrr.)
At 11 weeks, my cyst burst and caused excruciating pain. I was afraid to go to the doctor at this point as I didn't want to hear abortion again. At the 12 week visit, I had a 102 fever and major abdominal pain. The peri did an ultrasound and saw the fluid around the ovary (assumption that the cyst burst as it was no longer there). I clearly had an infection, so he put me on antibiotics. I can't remember which one, but it was a class C I believe. I also had a UTI, so it would take care of both (said the peri). Anyway, he said again that I should abort as he couldn't say whether the antibiotic would hurt the baby or not "better safe than sorry-right." Again, hubby and I chose to wait it out.
At 16 weeks, the peri did an ultrasound that showed everything seemed to be going okay. Baby looked "normal" and my infection was gone. I was reminded that it didn't mean everything was fine and that I should be getting the AFP and so on very soon to see. I also was sent to do a glucose test since I was overweight. I had lost weight so far, but since I was fat, obviously I had to have GD--grrrrr.
At 18 weeks, I decided I had had enough of the abortion talk and can't carry to term stuff, so I switched to a regular OB with a different practice. She ordered the 20 week ultrasound and changed my due date to 4/22/03. We hadn't talked about it much with the old practice since they didn't believe I would "produce" a baby anyway. I believe her due date was 4/26 by LMP. I was happy to have an earlier due date though--I wanted to get this pregnancy over with (so sad I thought this way) and see if she would be healthy. At the 24 week visit, I was told that everything looked good (including no fibroid growth), but after examination, my pelvis would not do well with a large baby. Large baby, by that OBs definition, was anything over 7 & 1/2 lbs. Yep, even being a very large woman, I clearly couldn't birth a baby of normal size. And the cesarean talk started.......
At 26 weeks, I went into mild pre-term labor (I say mild b/c I think now it was BH rather than labor). I was a good patient and went straight to the ER where the contractions measured just enough to call it
pre-term labor. Fortunately, I had a great nurse who sheltered me from all the interventionists (I had told her about my experience so far) and she helped tremendously. She put me in a quiet, dark room. Soothing music and lots of water. Had me lay down for two hours and then re-checked. Contractions had reduced to what they considered safe and she got me sent home.
By 36 weeks, the OB had me do another ultrasound for size. Baby girl measured in at 7 & 1/2 lbs. I believed them. More cesarean talk and my relief at having "what appears to be a normal baby" was replaced with the destruction of my wish to have a vaginal birth. For so many of the wrong reasons, at 38 weeks we scheduled my "induction" for the due date. To the OBs credit, she did say that I was not a good candidate for induction--she told me I would end up with a cesarean. I believed all of it. Induction, however, was my last ditch effort at a vaginal birth as I was having this monstrous 10 lb baby and was just high risk (I thought). I'm so sad for my lack of knowledge and for what I put my poor baby through as I let the hospital manage my birth.
On 4/22, I checked myself into the hospital and gave up all rights to my body. I was contracting when I arrived, so they waited two hours before starting with the cervical softener and pit (doh, I wish someone had told me that I could go home at this point. I wish I had thought of it. I wish.....). I was hooked up to machines, given a blanket to put between my legs and told to not move, but try to go to sleep. Huh--I've got monitors,
Vaginal Exams, pit and Cytotec (I believe) being administered. There was no way I could sleep. 10 hours later, I was only dilated to one and the pit was getting hard to handle. I was only 25% effaced. The OB on call came in and told me that she could break my water, but it would hurt. "It should start labor though." Great, since I was "failing" in my labor, I'd do anything to get things moving.
So, at 1cm dilated and 25% effaced, I agreed to AROM. Gushing, gushing fluid and way more pain. 5 hours later--yup, still only dilated to 2 and 50% effaced. At this point, the pit had been going strong for over half a day, being turned up every couple hours and I was in a lot of pain. My OB came in as she was starting her shift and told me that I was not progressing and should expect a cesarean. If I wanted to keep trying, she'd "let me go longer." She also said I could have an epidural since the pain level was getting so high and there was no way I was going to dilate fully anyway.......... I got the epidural around 22 hours after pit started. At about 11:00 pm, after being at the hospital for 25 hours, I couldn't take it any more. I needed sleep. I needed food. I needed the constant negativity to end. The monitors showed slight dips in baby's heart rate with some contractions and I signed the paperwork to get my cesarean.
I was broken. I thought I probably had a baby with major problems and I was in pain with constant fluid running all over the place from AROM. I gave up. At 11:45. I was wheeled into the OR. I weighed too much, so I had to help the nurses move me from bed to operating table (just the beginning of the too fat punishment). My arms were strapped down and the anesthesiologist started the numbing process. My BP dropped drastically and I tried to throw up, so they started administering several medications (not sure which ones) to help with that. I was "re-stabilized" and forced to breath through an oxygen mask as I was so numb, I was having trouble breathing. I know my BP dropped several times as the nurse kept telling the doctor that my BP was too low again and medications were administered. More anti-puking meds were given each time as I kept feeling like throwing up.
At 12:07 a.m., my baby girl was surgically removed from me. They held her up over the screen for like 2 seconds and then brought her over to the warmer table where the
pediatricians worked on her. She didn't make a sound for what felt like an eternity, probably 2 full minutes, but then we heard her and felt relief. At least she was okay for the moment. Elizabeth's apgar scores were 6 and 9. All of the constant interventions had caused some distress, but she was okay. A healthy 9lb, 12 oz baby girl.
I began swelling immediately afterwards, even though I had almost no swelling in pregnancy. I was also in a lot of pain. I kept asking for more pain medication and received a lot of percocet. Nothing seemed to help with the pain though. It was searing, burning pain.
And Elizabeth wouldn't nurse. She had been heavily medicated via my induction and then was given formula while I recovered--the staff had told hubby that Elizabeth was hungry and since I was in recovery with no visitors, he would have to feed Elizabeth formula (grrr again). About 4 hours after the surgery, my mother and husband came to see me. Where's Elizabeth? She's with my sister and brother-in-law, bonding with everyone but me. So, my sister finally brought her in and I got to see my baby. I was still too numb to lift my arms, so everyone had to pass her around and hold her so I could look at her.
Finally, about 45 minutes later, I could move my arms enough to hold her. She wasn't interested in nursing and began her extended sleeping regimen. Nursing never worked out well. 18 hours later, the nurse came and pulled out my cath and told me I had to go on my own. She wouldn't help me out of bed b/c I was too big and I'd hurt her (why was she a nurse then? Why didn't she get help?), so I developed tendonitis in my shoulder getting in and out of bed over my four day hospital stay. Elizabeth lost a full pound and was taken to the nursery where she was given formula again w/o permission.
Finally, I decided I couldn't take it any more and asked to go home. I was released with a prescription for vicodin and went home. At my 8 week checkup, I still complained of being in pain and was told that I was too overweight and out of shape. If I'd work on exercising more, then I'd heal faster. Of course, the OB did find a strange bulge in my abdomen and ordered an ultrasound. Ultrasound showed nothing, so I never heard from the OBs office again.
16 months later, I felt a cyst growing in my abdomen and thought it was probably a very large ovarian cyst. At 17 months post partum, I went to my PCP because I was getting uncomfortable and the cyst was too big to be an ovarian cyst. He felt it and told me I probably had cancer. Basically, he said that 17 months out from having a clear abdomen, it didn't look good and that I should start making plans for my death. He sent me to get panels of tests for cancer and another ultrasound. Everything came back negative (no cancer and no baby). By 18 months Post partum, the cyst had grown to the size of a 20 week fetus. All the tests kept coming back negative, so I was sent for a cat scan.
The cat scan showed that there was a lap sponge and surgical tape with something that looked like metal strings. Apparently, the nurses did not bother to do the sponge count and no one saw the surgical tape and metallic edging that is supposed to help keep this from happening during/after my cesarean surgery. For months after my cesarean, I was told that I was just fat and had no tolerance for pain because, of course, there couldn't actually be something wrong with what the OB or staff did during the cesarean. For almost two months, I thought I was going to die and leave my 1 year old with no mother. All of that because I believed the doctors from before I even got pregnant that I was broken.
18 months post-partum, surgery was scheduled to remove the damaged tissue, lap sponge, tape and so on from the botched cesarean. Everyone was still thinking it was no big deal, so a laparoscopy was performed. That failed. There was too much damage and the "foreign objects" were too big. So, I then had open abdominal surgery. There was a ton of scar tissue, of course. I was told that it would be highly unlikely that I could get pregnant, but if I did to at least wait a year or more to ensure my abdomen could handle such a high-risk thing. There was no additional scarring to my uterus, but I'm "just so high-risk now."
Six weeks after the open surgery, I got pregnant with my second baby. Most OBs had heard of my case and didn't want to see me as a patient. I interviewed 3 and found one that I thought was going to be VBAC friendly and sympathetic to my history. By 20 weeks pregnant, I had decided to go the homebirth route and so begins my VBAC story............
Kmom Note: akp's VBAC story can be found in the BBW VBAC FAQ.
Stacy's Story (3 pregnancies; gd + ketones with 3rd; 3 c/s)
Kmom's Notes: Stacy's extreme problems with ketones in gd are unusual. So was the level of calories she needed to have normal levels. Most gd moms are given around 2000-2200 calories; some docs restrict obese gd moms to 1500-1800 calories but this raises the danger of ketones and brings up whether the mother is adequately nourished at that level. However, Stacy ended up with the highest caloric totals I've ever seen for a gd mom---2800 calories! She also had to stop exercising to stop the ketones; this is very unusual. However, her ketones had probably become so out of whack previously in the pregnancy that such drastic measures were needed to stop them. Fortunately, her providers did measure them regularly (not all do) and experimented till they found what worked best for her. They didn't simply apply a uniform protocol, which helped a great deal.
Birth Story
I was diagnosed with GD at 28 weeks. With my other two pregnancies I had failed the 1 hour glucose test, but passed the 3 hour one. Not this time. My fear for the health of the baby and being absolutely terrified of blood tests, wreaked havoc on my emotions. I was determined to do everything possible to avoid insulin injections, even though I knew that it may be inevitable.
First, a little history. This was my 3rd pregnancy. My first baby was born when I was 29 years old. I was a dress size 20 when I became pregnant with him and gained less than 5 lbs during the pregnancy. (Not because I was trying to not gain weight, I ate very normally. My body simply didn't gain weight.) At 32 weeks gestation I noticed that he had become suddenly a lot less active. (Thank God for the doctor recommending counting kicks early on.) I went in to see my OB and was put on a fetal monitor immediately (non-stress test). The baby was having dips in his heart rate. They rushed me to a local hospital that had a more advanced neonatal ICU. As soon as we arrived there, his heart rate took a drastic plunge and he was born by emergency C-Sec. within minutes. He is now a perfect, simply amazing, brilliant little 6 yr. old.
Baby number 2 was born 14 months later. My dress size was still a 20 but I had gained about 10 lbs since the first pregnancy. Again, with this pregnancy I gained little weight. I was not diagnosed with G/D but once again I had failed the 1 hour blood glucose tolerance test and then passed the 3 hour test. On his due date, after 14 hours of labor, the baby went into fetal distress and was also born by an emergency C-Sec. His situation was totally unrelated to his brother's. He was born with a rare skull bone abnormality, that was corrected by surgery when he was 2 months old. But because of that problem, his head was simply unable to pass through the birth canal. He is now a perfect, hilarious, brilliant little 5 yr. old.
Ok, now back to baby number 3. With this pregnancy I was 35 years old and had again gained about 10 lbs since the last pregnancy I was now a size 22. At the beginning of the pregnancy, after much discussion with my OB, I decided to have a planned C-Sec. this time. Once I made that decision, I was completely relaxed about the rest of the pregnancy. We also decided at that time, that this third child would be our last, so I planned to have a tubal ligation at the same time. The decision was made long before the GD diagnosis.
After being diagnosed at 28 weeks, I began the diet and exercise program given to me by the doctor and registered dietitian. I stuck to it to the letter, but something wasn't working right. My ketone levels were registering "high" everyday. I had been very inactive due to an accident I had been in for a few months prior to and throughout my pregnancy. So, not only was I a plus size person to begin with, but my metabolism was certainly not normal either. Although, like many large women, I had gained almost no weight up to this point in my pregnancy.
Within 2 weeks of starting the diet/exercise program I had lost 8 lbs. At first the dietitian and doctor told me to not worry about it since many people lose weight when they begin the program. My blood sugars were all fine. But then when they saw my ketone levels they decided to take action. I figured that my body was just in so much shock from actually exercising, that it just couldn't help losing weight. I cut the exercising down to 5 minutes after meals.....and they raised my caloric intake to first 2500 calories.....then to 2800 calories.....and then finally to 3000 calories per day. Finally my ketone levels went down to "small" and "trace" readings, but I was still losing weight. With the agreement of the dietitian, I stopped exercising altogether. In my case, that worked. I stopped losing weight, had no ketones, and by just lowering my calories back down to 2800, my blood sugars stayed within normal range. I was able to control everything without insulin injections. Yippppeeeeee!!!
At 38 1/2 weeks my daughter was born by C-Sec., healthy, weighing 7lbs 5oz.and was 19 inches long. A planned cesarean is a LOT more relaxing than an emergency one. (Although, due to my fear of blood tests, as mentioned above, I was MUCH more fearful of getting an IV than the surgery itself. Go figure.) Everything went as planned to the letter. It was almost comical, shaking the doc's hand and saying "OK, now go get my baby." It was incredible, magical, wonderful. I was given a spinal block and had no ill side effects from it. For some unknown reason, the baby's blood sugar was low at birth. It registered 29 which was well below the hoped for reading of 40 or higher. My husband was handed a bottle of formula and he fed her about an ounce of it right away. Her blood sugars came up to normal and have remained that way ever since. I was a little concerned that she might not want to latch on to me after trying a bottle nipple first, but she latched on like a pro on the first try, a couple of hours later. The baby did not have any shoulder dystocia any other troubles associated with GD or anything else, for that matter.
It was a lot of work, but very much worth it, and I have a whole new understanding of my body and my metabolism. My emotions went through typical upheaval after her birth, but I think that was probably due to lack of sleep as much as due to hormonal fluctuations. I am now slowly adding exercise back into my daily routine and am amazed at the difference it is making in me both physically and emotionally. My boys like Richard Simmons better than Big Bird. Ha Ha ;)
Charlie's Story (fraternal twins, c/s)
Kmom's Notes:
Birth Story
Basically a regular pregnancy... we were a bit concerned at the beginning because of the size I was becoming (rather early). Also because of my age there were concerns that the baby would have problems (down's syndrome, spina bifida, etc) so the clinic did test for AFP.... The results came back high, which led to more concerns and we were scheduled for an ultrasound. At the ultrasound, we found out that the reason the AFP was high was because there were 2 babies, not one, which was a great relief.
The pregnancy was generally uneventful, other than the fact that I was miserable through most of it because of my size and it being a twin pregnancy. I had horrible heartburn most of the time, sciatica (which I have still)... no morning sickness to speak of, although if I got too hungry that would turn into nausea if I took too long to get around to eating and then smelled food.
The doctors initially suggested to me that if we made it through to 7 months that would be great and then we'd see how it was going, since twin pregnancies generally wind up being pre-term. However 7 months came and went and I remained pregnant and miserable. Then they suggested 8 months and they would consider induction since I was so uncomfortable... didn't happen. 9 months.... They tell me, "Well, lets just let nature take its course... " I said, "that's how I got this way to begin with!!!" They still didn't induce.
Finally (since I was going in to be seen about twice a week by then) I had been experiencing some liquid leaking for a couple of days and mentioned it, thinking it was a new kind of incontinence problem (another side-effect of the twin pregnancy), and they checked it, found out it was amniotic fluid and decided to let me go and have my babies. Originally they indicated that we would try and have them vaginally, but since the boy baby hadn't turned (as we had hoped he would) they just went ahead and did the c/s to avoid their chins possibly locking on exit.
That was 2 1/2 years ago. We think (every once in a while) about having another baby, but since the fact that we HAD twins was entirely my fault (the older you get the more predisposed to having multiples) and now I'm 38, I don't think we'll be having any more... Two is plenty and we have a boy and a girl and they keep us pretty busy. Who knows???... next time it might be triplets!!!......and then I'd really be up the creek.
Jessica H's Story (breech, PROM, c/s, spinal headache)
Kmom's Notes: Jessica's doctor felt that because the baby was large at 34 weeks and had low blood sugar, she must have had some undiagnosed GD. There is no way to know this for sure. Yes, the baby WAS large for 34 weeks and DID have very low blood sugar at birth. However, between being premature, having been exposed to brethine and steroids before birth (which raises maternal blood sugar levels, which then can make baby's blood sugar drop after birth), low blood sugar in the baby would not be an unusual finding. On the other hand, it IS possible that she could have developed some late GD between the usual 28 week test and the 34 week delivery. Progesterone levels don't peak till week 32 so it is possible, if unusual, that if she was borderline before, that progesterone peak at 32 weeks could have pushed her over into GD. Still, it is not a foregone conclusion.
Jessica also experienced a "spinal headache" with her c/s. This is one possible risk of both spinals and epidurals. Spinals are placed into the innermost space by the spinal cord, with the drugs going directly into the Cerebral Spinal Fluid. Because they are making a hole in the membrane that surrounds this fluid, sometimes that fluid will "leak" out the hole and the brain will not have as much fluid cushion as it is used to having, causing a temporary but very unpleasant headache. Although an epidural is placed in the space just outside this membrane and in theory should not cause a "spinal headache," sometimes that inner membrane is pierced anyhow and the headache occurs despite a different "space" being used for the anesthesia.
The usual treatment for a spinal headache is to give the person lots of caffeine (as they did Jessica) and to give them a blood patch. In a blood patch, a little bit of the woman's blood is injected into that space so that the blood can clot and hopefully block the "hole" and the fluid leakage. It's unknown why they did not go ahead and give Jessica a blood patch; that might have significantly eased and shortened her discomfort.
Birth Story
Saturday the 8th, following our birthing class (!) my water broke while
I was napping in our bed. I'd never felt so a large SPLOOSH in my life. I hollered for
DH, and ended up leaking even more fluid. I eventually soaked through a beach towel and the mattress by the time the
doctor called back.
When we got to the hospital, I was already at 1-2 and 80% effaced, and at 34 weeks, they didn't want to hear that. So I was put on bed rest,
brethine (asthma medication to stop contractions!) and antibiotics. The
brethine didn't work, so I was put on Magnesium Sulfate. The steroid celestone was given too to help develop the baby's lungs. Since he was
also [footling] breech (feet first), I was to be sectioned. No luck with an external version with no fluid!
So I was on bed rest, and bed pans (yich) until Monday evening when both steroid injections were on board, and I was taken off the Mag Sulfate.
The side effects from the Mag (constipation, numbness and fluid retention) were pretty severe by this time, and it was good to at least
get some circulation in my legs.
Tuesday, my contractions picked up, and I was on the external monitor still, listening to Rascal and watching the Tocometer measure
contraction strength. I did pretty well until 5 that night, and called the nurses insane for not believing I was in pain. By 9:15 that night I
couldn't think straight, and was crying. The doctor checked me on a fluke (don't want to check someone with ruptured waters often) and I was
at 7-8 cm fully effaced with Rascal's feet descending down through the cervix.
I was sectioned within a half hour, and had a rough 3 sticks, 2 for a spinal and then 1 for an epidural. Rascal was lodged in my cervix, so
they took careful time to dislodge him and his head was pushing up into my diaphragm as they did so. It was hard to
breathe for a few minutes until they unstuck his legs and delivered him feet first.
I didn't hear any announcement of sex or anything, they were worried about his lungs etc... but he was a champ with Apgars of 7 and 9! Now,
he's a preemie, 34 weeks, and he weighed in at 3630 grams, or 8 pounds! He didn't require any suctioning, but his first glucose check was 12, so
there was some late developed and un-caught GD with me.
I saw him for a quick few seconds, and my husband went off to be with him during all newborn procedures (pre-planned). While they were
stitching me up, the Duramorph in the epidural was fading, and I felt the last layers of tissue and the staples being put in-- ouch!
I did get a narcotic to last me through that part, and was wheeled into my
post partum room, right across from the nursery. I did get very itchy from the
Duramorph, but wet washcloths to my face, and a drug in the IV took care of that. I had eaten dinner (they fed me!) so I was pretty
nauseous most of the recovery time. I felt tired and drugged from the narcotic, but it helped with my resting that night, and I was on Oxygen
until morning since I wasn't breathing deep enough. DH came in to tell me all the news, and update me before we went to
sleep. I developed a spinal headache and am on high-caffeine intake until it fades. This is a NASTY headache, and I don't wish it on
anyone.
So it looks like all the complications were: premature rupture of membranes, pre-term 34 week gestation labor, frank breech, undiagnosed
GD, and C-section, and spinal headache (from epidural).
Poor Gideon is still in the hospital on a monitor (rooming in with me now) for Premature infant apnea, and his colon is under developed since
he's a preemie, and we're fighting his high bilirubin levels.
On a side note: The C-section was the most relieving thing that happened to me all weekend. My recovery is perfect, wound is clean and dry and
healing well, and I'm walking as well as I was when I was waddling when pregnant.
Never feel a section isn't a real birth! To me, it was a breeze, and I wouldn't mind having to have them every time (provided I
can get a good epidural!).
Bec's Story (insulin-dependent gd, induction, c/s)
Kmom's Notes:
Birth Story
My story starts with the fact that I was trying to get pregnant for about 3.5 years. I was able to get pregnant a few times, but miscarried. After one run-in with a fat-phobic doctor, I found a doctor who was willing to help me (350+ pounds at the time) get to the root of the problem. We never got a definitive answer, but worked on the premise that I have weak ovulation leading to a luteal phase defect (the time after ovulation and before next menses was too short). With the use of 100 mgs of Clomid on days 3-9, 150 IU of Fertinex on days 10-11, hCG injection on day 14, intrauterine insemination and sex on days 15 and 16, another hCG injection for progesterone support on day 21, and finally 50 mg of progesterone twice a day through the end of 14 weeks LMP.
I had some early scares because of bleeding, but was allowed frequent ultrasounds to check the baby. I was watched carefully throughout the first trimester, having many more appointments than the average patient, because of my recurrent miscarriages. At 16 weeks I was told I was officially an average patient and no longer considered high risk. I chose to do the triple screen at 16 weeks which came back fine and a level II ultrasound at 20 weeks revealed all was well.
I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes at 27 weeks. It wasn't a big shock since I was 33 and have a family history of diabetes, but what did surprise me is that my one hour glucose test came back at 217. I opted against taking the 3-hour GTT since my one-hour test was high enough to prove glucose intolerance, but my doctor did insist on a fasting level for confirmation.
I was given the choice of trying to control my GD by diet or with insulin. My doctor felt that insulin was the best control, and I did some research and found studies indicating a lower incidence of macrosomial infants when GD was treated with insulin. I had already been pretty much following a diabetic diet, so I didn't feel there was much adjustment that would help. I saw a nutritionist who only increased my calorie intake to about 2000 and frequency of meals, not the balance of what I was eating. A diabetic counselor taught me to monitor glucose levels at home, give myself insulin injections, and discussed walking and arm exercises to help reduce blood glucose levels. Between all of these things, I had the GD in good control within a week, and perfect control (levels under 100) for the rest of my pregnancy. My insulin levels were adjusted periodically, including adding a second smaller injection when my dinner levels were a bit higher than I wanted.
I think my main issue with GD is that I felt that I was on a very rigid schedule since I was supposed to test my fasting level and 2-hour postprandials (four pin-pricks per day) and eat every 3- 4 hours. I even had to wake up at 2 a.m. to eat a small snack so I wouldn't have ketones in my urine in the morning. I exercised after breakfast and after lunch everyday, and tried to do after dinner but was often too tired by then. I figured at least I would be in good shape for labor. Even with GD, I feel I had a pretty easy pregnancy and that I felt very healthy throughout.
I switched doctors at 35 weeks to a doctor/midwife team. While my previous OB might not have induced me for another week, the new one didn't want me going past 40 weeks with GD. We knew my exact dates and I felt more comfortable not going past my due date myself; I actually would have pushed the other OB to induce me at 40 weeks! My son didn't show signs of distress, but my insulin need was dropping, something that can indicate the placenta is beginning to fail. It was hard to find good information on insulin-dependant GD . . . most of what I could find was for insulin-dependant diabetics and being extrapolated to women with GD. My original OB didn't feel that it should be, and I agree.
At 39 weeks I had a vaginal exam with the intent of stripping my membranes. I was only fingertip dilated and 30% effaced, so that didn't happen. At 39w5d I was admitted to the hospital for prostaglandin gel applications to the cervix. I had some gel in the morning, did a lot of walking trying to get things going, and then had more gel in the afternoon. I went from fingertip to a bit more than one and 70% effaced. I also started to lose my mucus plug, but had few contractions. I was sent home at 7 p.m. and told to return the next morning for pitocin.
I'm not sure why I was being optimistic about the pitocin since I know it doesn't tend to work well before someone is dilated to 3 cm, but I guess I just figured I needed to labor, needed to get the baby out soon, and somehow it would work. Even the pitocin didn't do that much for me immediately, and it was restricting my movement since I was on a monitor and it wasn't cooperating; if I moved, we would lose the heartbeat. I really didn't want to be stuck in bed and it was very uncomfortable. It was pretty clear mid-morning that my perfectly positioned baby decided to move and give me back labor. Every time I had a contraction, I would get a sharp pain in my butt and down my leg. In the early afternoon I was thinking I would be unhooked and sent home, but all of a sudden I felt something akin to a balloon expanding and then popping followed by a gush of fluid; my water broke, and there was meconium in it. I was on the clock . . . baby within 24 hours.
I was at 3 cm and the OB put an internal monitor on me, something I hadn't intended, but appreciated since it allowed me some more mobility. The pitocin and IV insulin were turned up since my blood sugar was rising. The midwife was wonderful trying to help me find more comfortable positions and massaging my back. The best position for me seemed to be sitting up in a rocking chair. In the evening, I was so exhausted I decided that the pain might be discouraging progress, so I had a small dose of narcotics to take the edge off. It worked and allowed me to sleep between contractions which were 1+ minutes on, one minute off for hours. I was rechecked late in the evening after my son showed a few decelerations. I had not made any progress and was still at 3 cm. The OB said I might just be too small (based on my tiny feet and short stature) to birth the baby and I should consider a c-section. She would let me go another hour or so and check if I wanted, or we could make the decision immediately. Since a friend of mine had recently lost a healthy full-term baby, I chose to do the c-section. My son was born at 12:44 a.m. on his due date. He weighed 7 pounds 11.5 ounces, 20.5 inches long, and apgars were 9 and 9.
My biggest regret about the c-section was that I ended up so exhausted that I didn't really get to hold my son and nurse him until he was 9-10 hours old. I know the pro-breastfeeding nurses were upset with the anesthesiologist about it, but I didn't really understand why I wasn't woken. Maybe it was the meds. I also missed my son's first bath, but I have seen most of the firsts since then and that has helped diminish the pain I had from that (which did cause some post-partum depression). My surgical wound healed easily and my blood sugars returned to normal within 48 hours. I was released 3.5 days after having the baby and my staples were removed 5 days post-partum. After a rocky start, my son is still nursing at 20 months.
Margaret's Story (malposition, c/s, severe post-surgical infection)
Kmom's Notes: Margaret experienced a very severe infection after her c/s. It is unclear why she had such a bad infection afterwards, although the use of an internal monitor is known to increase the risk for infection. Still, very few women with internal monitors experience an infection as severe as this.
Although she was not plus-sized before the pregnancy, by the end of the pregnancy she was, and could have benefited from some of the preventative measures doctors can take to reduce the risk of infection in women of size. These include doing subcutaneous stitches in the fat layer, placing a drain in the wound, prophylactic antibiotics (hopefully with weight-based dosing), etc. Eventually the doctor did order some IV antibiotics, but Margaret may have benefited from an even more aggressive approach (i.e. multiple dosing, staying in the hospital longer for monitoring, etc.). According to Margaret, "I didn't have a drain, or stitches under my skin. I just had those big staples. Afterwards though, I had no closure at all, besides the stitches in my uterus."
After going home, Margaret's wound re-opened with infectious material. She ended up back in the hospital, having the wound drained in an additional 3 hour operation, probably debrided, then packed. She was in the hospital 5 days for infection management. She then ended up with home health care 2x per day, packing and cleaning the wound for another 6 months. The wound stayed open for another 3 years before finally closing, and to this day she has numbness and sometimes pain in the area.
Never let anyone tell you that a c/s is low risk. Although most women do not experience infections as severe as this, infection is a significant risk to cesareans, and at much higher rates than after vaginal births, especially in women of size. Although there are things doctors can do to lower the risk for infection, it is never possible to lower the risk for infection to zero, and occasionally infections become so severe they require major interventions or put the woman's life at risk.
Birth Story:
Hi, I'm Margaret. I'm 28 and pregnant with my second child. I would like to share the story of my five year old daughter's birth, where I contacted an infection after a c-section. I feel not only will this story help clear my head of the trauma I experienced, but it could also help someone else at some point in time.
Before I even knew I was pregnant with my daughter, I must have gained 15 pounds. I weighed 145, the most I had ever weighed. Upon finding out about the pregnancy, I began overeating in an extreme way. I was newly married, unhappy and very depressed. I thought marriage was like the Cinderella story, no one told me about the roller coasters! My husband & I barely made it through...we actually filed for divorce when my daughter was 6 weeks old. Thankfully it never happened. We have been married for 5 1/2 years.
I had bleeding during my pregnancy that continued well into the 6th month, I was terrified I would lose the baby. I was put on bed rest and gained a lot of weight. My OB was unsympathetic and told me I would end up "being a fat woman for the rest of my life". I weighed 220 pounds at the end of my pregnancy. I have been overweight ever since.
I went to the hospital at 6:30am on November 6, 1998. I was induced and contractions followed shortly after. There were nurses in and out of the room constantly, checking my cervix and making sure I was comfortable. My water broke at about 2:00pm, and an internal monitor was used. I
dilated to 5 and was feeling pretty confident about my body's ability to give birth. A nurse made a comment about there being "no need to be a
"martyr"....I caved pretty quickly after that and received an epidural at 3:00pm. I was complete in an hour, the epidural was turned off and I began pushing. I pushed and pushed for four hours. The doctor told me I may be able to deliver the head, but if the body was unable to come through, he would have to push the head back in. I was terrified by the thought of that. I began doubting myself and wanted to give up. We prepared for a C-section.
The procedure was virtually painless, just some pulling and pressure, after about 15 minutes our daughter was born. My husband was crying and came to show me our new baby. Since my arms were bound to the table, I could only turn my head and sneak a peek. I looked at her for the first time and it was as if we had met somewhere before. I looked into her eyes and said "how weird"...she was taken to the nursery and I don't remember much. I was very tired and unable to open my eyes.
A few hours later she was brought into my room. I began nursing and loved seeing my new baby. In hindsight, rooming in would have been less stressful for me... I hated when they took her away from me. At one point they told me I could not see her because the doctor was coming to check her. I was very upset that I was told I couldn't see my own daughter.
I was given sleeping pills because I was unable to sleep due to the excitement of it all. On the second day the nurse came in to change my bandages and look at my incision. She was not very happy when she saw the area red and swollen.
But I wanted to go home, I wanted to dress and bathe my baby. I wanted to play her music and show her our home. I told the nurse my incision was red because of the tape. I must have a tape allergy. She shook her head "I have seen this before". The doctor was called and he agreed with me, it was a tape allergy! I guess he just wanted to be sure, so I was given antibiotics by IV. The doctor ordered a water filled heating pad. I placed this on my incision to help with pain.
One night I was having severe pain that the pills were not touching. My hemorrhoids were out of hand, due to pushing. I called the nurse and asked her for tucks and my heating pad. She left me for two hours because she had to "verify" this information with my doctor. Instead of giving me the damn tucks...she said "you had a c-section".
I was allowed to go home on the 4th day. I called the hospital and complained about the bitch nurse. The woman, who happened to be the head of the nursing department said "Oh yeah...I know who you are, you're the one that got the infection"...I guess she knew something I didn't.
When we arrived home, I lay on the bed and cried. My husband was shocked, I had been so happy and strong at the hospital..what was happening? I told him the pain was impossible, I needed something for the pain. He didn't know what to do for me, and I spent the first night home in agony. I continued to feed our daughter and clean the house on the second day home. I was in the kitchen washing dishes when I felt something warm near my incision. I looked down at my white shorts to see a green stain forming near the stitches. There was green/yellow fluid oozing out of my body. We headed down to the ER.
My mom came to the ER and held the baby. She started crying to be nursed, and my mom took out some formula and fed her. She wasn't used to the quick flow of a bottle and vomited all over the waiting room. I couldn't stand watching her drink from the bottle. I was supposed to be able to feed my baby. I wasn't supposed to be back at the hospital. I wasn't supposed to be in this much pain. The doctor in the ER said she needed to remove the sutures and examine the incision. I almost crawled up the ceiling at this thought. NO WAY! I demanded that they call my doctor, he arrived shortly after and I was set up for surgery.
They re-opened the incision, in order to clean it out. The operation ended up taking over 3 hours. I don't know what they did while they were in there, but the pressure seemed to be gone. I was admitted to the hospital and put on a regular nursing floor. I began pumping my milk for my husband to take home. I was determined to breastfeed. I was not going to allow this to interfere with my plans. I had to pump every 2 hours, around the clock. Because of the amount of medication in my system..I was told to pump and dump my milk. If I couldn't feed my child, I was going to keep up my milk supply. No one thought this was very important, even the doctor. "It's ok Margaret, sometimes things just don't go as planned" I ignored them. I was going to nurse my daughter.
My husband took our daughter home the first night I was admitted, he came to see me the next day looking very frazzled. He didn't know anymore than I did about babies. The little I knew came from books. He was very scared and nervous about being alone with her. She was crying, he was crying and I wanted to disappear.
A nurse appeared and said she was going to be changing my dressing. I assumed it was just a layer of gauze like it was before, with sutures underneath. She removed the first layer and then the second and then the third....then she began pulling out gauze that seemed to be rolled into a ball inside my abdomen. She pulled and pulled and pulled on the gauze...It began to stick on the inside and I started to cry, then scream, then moan. My mother in law and husband came around the curtain to see what she was doing. My mother in law started screaming at the nurse to take her hands off me. The nurse and her began a screaming match, as I lay there with dirty gauze coming out of me. The doctor was called in. After strongly medicating me they wet the gauze and removed it. It took over an hour to get it all out. There was an endless roll of gauze in my abdomen.
Until the incision had healed a little on the inside, the doctor gave orders to wet the gauze with sterile water. I still didn't realize that my incision was so deep. It went down to the muscle. The doctor recommended that I shower without the gauze and hold my abdomen open. He said it was an unsterile wound, water would do it good. I was afraid to touch it, let alone shower it. When nurses came in to change the dressing I freaked out. I was given a shot of Demerol and a vicodin a half hour before dressing changes. If they hadn't medicated me I would have ran away from the nursing staff.
My sister in law offered to take the baby for a night. She came back the next day, glowing. There was a pacifier in my daughter's carrier and she smelled like formula. My sister in law was smiling when she told me the story about a couple she met in the elevator. "They just thought she was the cutest thing..and she is, you know?" "The man couldn't get over what great shape I was in..ha ha" "I just thanked him and smiled."
I guess she missed the tears in my eyes at that point, she just kept talking about what a great eater she was..and how she loved her formula.
I grew this baby with my own body. I had loved her for 9 months, talked to her all the time. What nerve she had to take all the credit. I was so upset and pissed off at everyone. I wanted to scream.
My total stay in the hospital, the second time, was 5 days. I was sent home and visited by home health nurses twice a day. They changed my dressing and took measurements of my incision. One of the nurses wanted to take a picture of it for me. She thought I might need to document this one day. I refused. I just wanted this to be over. Hair began growing around the incision. One of the nurses recommended that I shave it, to avoid irritation. The thought of shaving that area still gives me chills.
I continued to pack and clean my incision for 6 months. It was a gaping wound, left open from the inside out. It took 3 years for the outside to close completely. I have numbness and pain sometimes when pressure is applied to the area. I can't imagine ever having that area opened up again. I lost 40 pounds after the birth of my daughter, but because of the drawn out healing process I suffered from a deep depression and ended up gaining it all back. I have been on every anti depressant in the book over the last 5 years.
I am now on disability due to depression. I don't think the infection is fully responsible for this, but I'm sure it wasn't any help either.
I am determined to have a VBAC.
Lisa L's Story (induction, c/s)
Kmom's Notes: Lisa shows classic signs of a malpositioned baby: prodromal labor for a long time (including going overdue), back labor, feeling an urge to push too early, no progress in pushing despite strong pushing for a long time. The baby was also big, which could also have been or added to the problem, but it's difficult to know for sure what happened. If the baby was indeed posterior, breaking her waters committed the baby to that position and basically ensured the c/s. In a follow-up, Kmom asked her if the baby might have been posterior. She wrote back and confirmed that "she turned during labor and was face-up which contributed to having the cesarean."
Birth Story
I was 42 weeks pregnant, very healthy, but baby did not want to come out. On the day that I went in to be induced I was 1 1/2 cm dilated and 40% effaced and had been in mild labor for two weeks. I went into the hospital on November 24 and had a cervical pill inserted to help soften my cervix which would hopefully help me dilate more. They inserted this pill 3 times at 4 hour intervals but labor got strong just an hour after the first insert (7:00pm on 11/24).
After a restless night and much back labor, accompanied by many showers and much walking, they broke my water at 7am on 11/25. By 11am I was only dilated to 2 cm and getting antsy as my contractions had been one on top of the other for 17 hours. Finally at noon I received an epidural with no complications at all. During this and throughout my pregnancy my weight was never an issue.
At 5:00 I felt the urge to have a bowel movement and when the midwife checked me I was 6 cm dilated and progressing quickly. By 6:00 I was a full 10 but only 90% effaced and I began pushing. After two hours of watching her head bob in and out with contractions and pushing they decided on a c-section because her head was too large.
D was born at 8:13 pm on 11/25/98 perfectly healthy at a whopping 10lbs 4oz. Mommy healed well and overall the birthing experience, though long, was well worth the end result. I am now due soon with a boy and hope to be writing back with a successful VBAC story!
Danie's Story (PROM, posterior, partial abruption, premature, group B strep, c/s)
Kmom's Notes:
Birth Story
The full story can be found at www.childbirth.org/articles/stories/aidan.html. A very difficult birth story; the baby and mother turned out fine in the long run, but getting there was very traumatic for them both. Below is a brief summary.
While visiting a dying aunt, Danie's water broke at about 35 weeks. She did not know it but she had group B strep (infections can cause the water to break prematurely). She had a terrific OB who was very Bradley-oriented and supportive of natural birth, but due to complications she eventually needed a c/s (a truly necessary one).
Her baby was posterior and so labor was painful and not very effective, and during labor her placenta began abrupting (pulling away from the uterine wall). The baby went into distress. When the baby was born, he got pneumonia from the group B strep, one lung was punctured by the suctioning they did, and he was eventually found to have a hole in his heart. However, they did manage to establish long-term breastfeeding despite all the barriers, and he is doing well now in the long-term.
Pam's Story (PCO, insulin-dep. gd, placenta previa, c/s)
Kmom's Notes:
Birth Story
After 2 years of trying to conceive due to PCO, we got pregnant. I had all day morning sickness for 14 weeks. At that point I was diagnosed with GD. Despite diet changes etc, I had to go on insulin at 18 weeks since my fasting sugar levels wouldn't come down. I was also diagnosed with placenta previa (low-lying placenta) and told to take it easy for the pregnancy.
By 36 weeks I was told that my GD was controlled so well (baby was not big at all) and that the placenta had shifted enough, I was going to be able to have a vaginal birth. At exactly 39 weeks I started bleeding and since the baby hadn't dropped and I wasn't dilated or soft AT ALL, it was decided that an induction would be pointless. A c-section was scheduled for 3 hours later. I was comfortable with this choice.
I had an epidural, which the doctors had NO problems putting in. I was easily shifted from my bed to the OR table, even after the section when I was totally numb and couldn't help. I was awake and conscious for the section and my DH was right next to me. Despite the fact my placenta had broken apart and was hemorrhaging, my boy was born totally healthy and fine. Apgars 8 and 10. My arms were restrained by a blood pressure cuff and the IV's, so I couldn't move much, but the nurse freed my one arm so I could touch and caress the baby while DH held him.
Baby never left my sight until DH took him across the hall where I was being taken minutes later. I tried to BF an hour after his birth (the soonest they'd let me) and he wasn't interested. He didn't nurse well at all that day and he finally got a great latch the next morning. From there on in, BFing was not a problem, even on the inverted nipple. I had trouble getting him to latch for a few days, but that was due more to my inexperience and FF breasts. Once we got the hang of it, there was no problem (as long as I used the football hold exclusively). My milk came in by gallons on day 3 and we kept it up until I weaned him at 15 months.
My pain level was easily controlled with Tylenol 3s and I was walking around in less than 24 hours (in fact at 10 hours I walked (slowly and with help) to the bathroom). The staples were taken out on day 4 when I was discharged. I never had any problems with the incision. It healed over easily. By 4 weeks postpartum I was able to run and do pretty much everything. I stopped taking extra strength Tylenol after 10 days. My GD completely disappeared immediately upon delivery, and I've been healthy and happy ever since.
Ann's Story (transverse presentation, c/s)
Kmom's Notes: Ann experienced some size-phobia and hassle from a previous provider, and decided to switch mid-way through her pregnancy. Unfortunately, her baby settled into a transverse position (shoulder/side first) and her doctors' policy was not to attempt external version. Because the baby did not change position on her own, Ann needed an elective c/s.
Birth Story
Ann's story can be read on her website at www.adairmedia.com/ann/elizabeth.htm. She had a pretty ordinary pregnancy, but had a c/s when her baby was found to be transverse. Because it was an elective c/s (no labor beforehand because of the danger of cord prolapse in a transverse presentation), the baby had some troubles breathing at first and spent quite a bit of time in the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit). Ann also had to have an unusual vertical incision due to the baby's presentation. Recovery at first was tough but all is well now. Breastfeeding got off to a rough start, but they persevered and are now breastfeeding exclusively.
JLWEEZ's Story (breech c/s; elective repeat cesarean with severe wound complications)
Kmom's Notes: This mom experienced severe wound complications after her second cesarean. It is important to remember that although cesareans are far safer than they used to be, they still can have severe complications, and that there are many risks inherent in surgical birth. While many cesareans go perfectly fine, there are many women who experience complications too; the risks of surgery should not be underestimated.
In addition, this story is a testament to the importance of listening to your intuition; if something seems "wrong," then make sure someone pays attention, even if they ignore your concerns at first. Paying attention to her intuition probably helped save this mother's life.
Finally, this is a story where the type of incision (vertical, i.e. up and down) may have had a negative effect, although of course no one knows for sure if a transverse (side to side) incision could have prevented these complications either. Vertical incisions have been shown to have a much higher risk for wound complications in plus-sized women. No one quite knows why, but it is theorized that, among other factors, the up-down vertical incision places more mechanical stress on the wound, making it easier to pull apart or heal poorly. A vertical incision also has to go down through the heaviest portion of a big mom's abdomen, which does not have as efficient a blood supply as other tissues. Thus, fluid may collect there or the wound may have difficulty coming together and healing.
Although some doctors have been taught that a vertical incision is a better incision on a plus-sized woman (thought to have a lower risk for infection), recent research has confirmed that in actuality, a vertical incision strongly increases the chances for wound complications instead.
Birth Story
Baby #1: For my 1st delivery, I had my daughter by c-section because she was breech. I did have a "version" done in an attempt to turn the baby into position. This was extremely painful. I had to do my labor breathing to get through it. The doctor was literally on top of me on all fours trying to turn the baby by pushing on the outside of my stomach. We had no success and a c-section was inevitable. They did the incision vertically. This was 6 years before the experience I will now tell you about.
Baby #2: My pregnancy was great! I was so excited to be pregnant after fearing I would never be able to again. The only difference with this pregnancy is that toward the end I had a pressure in my crotch as the baby got into position. I did not experience this with my first breech pregnancy.
Because of my history, the doctors advised that I should have my next child the same way (cesarean). They would even follow the same incision as the previous delivery. I was fine with that. My family doctor is wonderful and he was the same MD (along with 2 other doctors) that advised me to have my gallbladder out at 26 weeks. My family doctor is not a "fat phobic doctor." He has been wonderful throughout both of my pregnancies.
I had my c-section with my family doctor and an OBGYN (also not a "fat phobic doctor"), who I also highly regarded. I knew I was in good hands. All went well at this point. I had a beautiful baby boy. It seemed like it took forever for them to stitch me up. I did have to ask for more pain reducer during the end of the c/s as it was beginning to wear off and I could start to feel the stitches.
After I was totally stitched, I felt great. I stayed in the hospital for 3 nights and 4 days. It is so nice to be there because the back rest of the beds go up and this makes it so much easier to get in and out of bed. It is also helpful to have the rail by the toilet.
When I got home, the most difficult part was to get in and out of my bed. I did have myself propped up with a cushion so that I didn't have to lie flat. But you get up a lot when you have to feed a baby every 2 hours. When I had my first baby, I slept in a recliner. ( I will do that again with the next one). I knew it put a lot of strain onto my incision.
On day 5 after the surgery I noticed that there was a small amount of blood coming from the incision. I dabbed it with a kleenex and forgot about it. Within 10 minutes I was saturated in blood and there was actually a pool of blood on the floor. At this point I was a little concerned. I had a little pain.
We immediately went to the nearest emergency room. The doctor did not seem at all concerned. In fact, he said that it just must have been a pocket of blood that had come to the surface and it needed to come out. When I said I was in a little pain, he said that these were "normal" healing pains. With that, I was released from the ER and sent home.
By the time I got home (20 minutes later), the pain began. I have never experienced such pain in my entire life. This was constant pain. I couldn't walk, talk or breathe it was so bad. My husband managed to get me into the house where I changed my clothes. All I could do was moan because of the pain. After being released from the ER with an all clear, it made me second guess what I was feeling. I just knew that something was wrong. I was in more pain now than right after the surgery. This did not seem like "normal healing pain" to me. My husband was upset because he knows that I have a high pain tolerance. He decied to call my OBGYN.
My OBGYN said he wanted to see me. We drove 45 minutes to the hospital where his office was. By this time the bleeding had returned. I was again saturated in blood and the pain continued to be immense. When we got to the hospital, my husband got a wheelchair and took me in. When he examined me, he seemed concerned. He decided to pop a couple of the staples to have a look. When he looked, his eyes became like silver dollars. Now I was scared. I said "what's wrong?" He said "You have a HUGE hernia!" I asked what he meant. He then told me that all of my internal stitches had come undone.
Things instantly turned very serious. Then the urgency of the situation began to unfold. Within 45 minutes I was in emergency surgery to get this repaired. As they transferred me, he kept saying to hold onto my stomach and don't let go. I later found out that this was because he didn't want all of my internal organs to fall out.
After surgery, I was in much pain. I relied on pain relievers far more that I ever had in the past. Then they broke the news to me. He could not sew the outside back up. That's right, I was packed with gauze and had 2 retention sutures (very large heavy cord like stitches about 3 inches long) to help hold me closed. Apparently I had to heal from the inside out this time. Little did I know at the time what this would all involve. I was literally down for the count after my 2nd major surgery in 5 days. Pain level was pretty high. I did rely on the pain relievers to help me. In the mean time I am being told by family how serious this was and that I could have died. I guess it wasn't my time.
The weeks to follow would prove frustrating. I couldn't do ANYTHING! My milk supply deminished due to the trauma that my body had gone through. I had NO appetite. I would cry whenever I thought of those final moments before I went into surgery and how close I came to not seeing my son grow. My mother-in-law came to our house twice a day to change the packed gauze in my incision site and clean the open wound and re-pack it with fresh gauze. I thought I would never heal. Finally, the day came when I could get the retention stitches removed. They had begun to dig into my stomach and this hurt me. When I went that day to get them removed, I asked the doctor (OBGYN) what happened. He said that the sutures broke!! And they broke at the opposite end of the knot. Therefore his knot held strong, it was the sutures themselves that did not.
Now 17 months later, I want to have another child. My husband is a nervous wreck even though I know he wants another one too. In looking back I recognize that as a BBW, I think it is better to stay in the hospital longer. Just because the beds are so much more accommodating as far as getting in and out. I think it puts alot of strain on the abdomen to get in and out of a regular bed. Especially with the extra weight around the middle. I will have many discussions with the MDs at length with the next delivery. I will insist that they use heavy duty sutures, I will request the dreaded retention stitches and I will take as long as I need in the hospital to assure that healing is well underway. All I know is that I am blessed to be alive to see my baby grow and to tell others of my story.
ALWAYS follow your gut feeling when you think that something is wrong. It is your body and nobody knows it better that you do. My insistence that something was wrong saved my life!!!
Jen S's Story (PIH, induction, c/s)
Kmom's Notes: Some women love their c/s, some are indifferent to them, and for some women, they are a total violation. For some women, it is almost akin to a rape. Jen feels this way about her c/s, and she certainly didn't get much support or help from the staff. Her wishes were often disregarded and it's a testament to her dedication that she was able to keep breastfeeding despite all the intervention from the hospital.
Jen took a Bradley childbirth education class, which is often helpful. However, there are a few doctors and hospitals where this is viewed with great hostility and the staff may hold it against you. The doctor she had was supportive, but she did not get that doctor for the birth. Kmom also wonders about the position the baby was in and if that affected the labor. Like many women who experienced a traumatic hospital or c/s experience, Jen plans a totally different birth next time.
Birth Story
DH and I studied very hard. We read everything we could get our hands on and even some more. We were taking articles to class to share with the teacher. The classes were terrific. I really enjoyed hearing other birth stories. I couldn't wait to see what mine would turn out to be like. I was committed to a natural, drug free birth. Most of my friends thought I was insane. But I kept insisting that I was going to do it. I felt like it was best for the baby and for me. DH and I felt we had fully prepared for the birth of our first child. We took the responsibility of being parents very seriously as we learned everything we could. Our ultimate goal was to have a safe and satisfying birth, a healthy child, and a healthy nursing relationship fostered by immediate contact with mother and baby.
But I wasn't as smart as I would have liked to believe. Looking back now, I can see some major problems in my plan for a natural Bradley birth. My first problem was that I thought that because I had read and studied and knew so much that I would be in control, no matter what. My next problem was the doctor I chose. I really wanted to have a female doctor. The only one in my area had just gotten out of school. (Maybe she would have been the best choice?) And the other practice in town that all my friends went to were not only men but they belonged to my church. I couldn't go to them! So I decided to drive an hour away to see a woman doctor that I knew personally. My friend, who now lives in Oregon, was her nanny for two years. I felt like I trusted her. Besides the hospital was supposed to be one of the best. The problem with her was not really her at all, but it was the practice she was in. There were eight or nine other physicians in practice with her. So anyone could deliver my baby. How it turned out, the one doctor I never met was the one who delivered B!
DH and I wrote our birth plan and presented it to our doctor. We worked very hard on our plan and made sure that we hit all the major basics we wanted covered, being careful not to overwhelm our doctor. (This was a stupid idea we had. I now believe that a birth plan ought to be what you want it to, and if it is "too long" for your care giver to read, then you should find another care giver). I made a special appointment for DH and I to sit down with my doctor to look over our carefully designed birth plan. After presenting this to our doctor and complete discussion on every point, we felt satisfied that we were prepared for our Bradley Birth. I can remember her saying to me though, "I just hope that I am there." That should have been a clue to me that not everyone else would be so willing to let us participate in the birth of our child.
My next problem was that I was overdue. Despite every trick in the book, that baby was not ready to come out. I was eight days past my due date when my doctor decided that I should undergo several tests to see how the baby was doing. I should have canceled that appointment. My doctor decided that induction of labor was necessary due to several factors; an ultrasound found I had low amniotic fluid, my blood pressure was elevated and traces of protein were found in my urine and I had enormous swelling ankles and feet. Paul and I talked it over. I had an idea that she would want to induce me and I couldn't see a way out of it at the time. I trusted her decision and besides, I really was anxious for that baby to come. It was kind of exciting. Needless to say, my birth plan was practically thrown out the window right at the start, but I was still optimistic.
The plan was for me to come in that night and start with prostaglandin on my cervix. Twelve hours later, they would start pitocin. But Paul and I wanted to go home first (one hour away). We went home, ordered pizza, picked up some movies and I called some friends and my Bradley teacher to tell them what was going on. D's advice was to stay home for the night and get some sleep. There wasn't any real reason to go that night. I was tired from staying up the night before playing computer games and I should have listened to her. But . . . I was too excited. My plan was to go to the hospital and sleep there that night, get up early and walk the next day until the baby came. Boy, was I in a dream world! I should have listened to her and stayed home. But I really didn't want to call my doctor and explain, DH was hurrying me to get off the phone and I kind of wanted to go. So we went. By the time we got to the hospital, the doctor on call was irritated we had taken so long to get there. She wasn't interested in talking to us about the birth plan we were so proud of and determined to use. Her exact quote was, "You can stand on your damn head for all I care."
When we arrived in our room, the nurse had the bed, fetal monitor and IV all laid out for us. We refused the IV and allowed the E.F.M. for a little while. Then I was started with prostaglandins put on my cervix. Although I didn't realize it immediately, my contractions started within an hour or two. The nurse had explained to me that I might have some cramps. That's what I assumed they were. But they were my contractions. I didn't realize that they wouldn't feel like typical contractions. Right from the beginning the contractions started coming everyone to two minutes, sometimes right on top of each other. I felt them as pains in my lower back. I couldn't sleep and I couldn't rest. The nurse kept coming in the room to adjust the E.F.M. (which she said I HAD to have on if I was in bed). Within an hour of these contractions, I was lying in the bed and totally overwhelmed. They were taking my entire concentration to try and relax. When I was hooked up to the E.F.M., nothing was being picked up to suggest that I was having any contractions. I was starting to worry about what would happen when my "real" contractions were going to start. There was never the tightness in my abdomen, only severe back pain.
And since it was next in my doctor's plan and my labor did not seem to be progressing, the pitocin was started by seven the next morning. After awhile, I started asking for pain medications. An epidural was suggested but I said, "Oh no! I'm not having an epidural!" So I went on some more. The contractions kept coming but not registering on the monitor so my pitocin was turned up on a regular basis. I asked for pain meds again. I still refused the epidural but settled on stadol. This drug knocked me out. DH said I fell asleep immediately. I cannot remember much of anything, because I was in and out of consciousness. I couldn't tell what was real or what was a dream. It felt horrible! It was like a nightmare. The pitocin was still turned up again and again and when I couldn't sleep anymore, I tried to deal with the contractions (I'm not sure I even realized I was in labor yet).
After 16 hours of this, I was begging my husband for an epidural. I had changed my mind about the epidural when they told me I couldn't have any more stadol. DH tried hard to get me to relax and not have the epidural but I was tired and out of my mind and determined! So in came Dr. D and gave me the epidural I swore I'd never have. I can remember asking the nurse about how I compared to other women who requested epidurals. I wanted her to tell me that most women need one much sooner than I did and that I was really strong for waiting for so long. But she said, "oh, other women usually get an epidural about the same time you did, at a three or four." I really felt bad after that. I was felt like a failure then and I feel like one now. After all my classes and education and relaxation exercises, I couldn't get any further with a natural birth than a woman who had planned on a medicated birth her entire pregnancy! Well, after I had the epidural, I dilated from three to nine. I wonder now if I was in transition or if the epidural had just helped me to relax? I wish I had a doula or my Bradley teacher there because maybe things would have gone differently.
My real doctor (not the one on call) had come by to check on me. She asked me if I minded if they could use an internal monitor. I didn't care. I was stuck in the bed, I had an IV, blood pressure cuff, oxygen mask, E.F.M. and I can't remember what else! I figured at least I'd get some equipment off of me. This was also the time when an internal pressure catheter was put in place. My husband describes the scene as very quiet as the nurses quickly stopped the pitocin when they finally saw my contractions show on the monitor (which were still in my back every one to two minutes and still had never shown up on the E.F.M.) My contractions were out of control. My husband still worries about the pitocin being turned up and up and up. He was relieved that the pitocin was stopped because he was worried about my uterus rupturing.
Once my epidural was in place, I fell asleep again. I was told to push an hour later although I had no urge. My nice nurse was finished with her shift and I then had a not so nice nurse assigned to me. DH and I were left to push the baby out by ourselves. I pushed and pushed and slept in between contractions. I wasn't working very hard. DH would watch the monitor and tell me when the contraction would start, then I would take two breaths, and push as hard as I could. Paul watched the monitor and would tell me what number I reached. The next contraction, I would try to beat my previous record. About two hours later, the doctor on call came in and checked the baby's position. He was at a zero, maybe. The doctor told me that I would probably not be able to push the baby out and that I would need a cesarean. He gave us a long lecture on how he wouldn't be making any extra money and he wasn't trying to go home early. He said that he would be there all night anyway and so I could push for ten more hours if I wanted to but in his opinion, the baby was too big and would never come out. My choice was to try some more or hurry up and have the c/s because there was another lady who was going to have one and if I didn't go right away, I'd have to wait for them to finish up on her first.
Now this is where we NEEDED another support person there for us! I was in no condition to make any discussion. I didn't know what to do. DH wasn't in any better of a position. He didn't know what to do or say. He was looking to me for the answer. So, we agreed to the c/s. The biggest mistake of my life! I remember them giving me papers to sign before they prepped me and thinking that I wanted to say "Never mind, I don't want to do this," but feeling like it was already too late. The reason for the c/s was "failure to progress." One question I had before I was signing the papers was if I would be able to hold my baby right away. The nurses promised me that I would and told me that they try really hard for moms to have extra time with their babies when they are born via c/s. I felt satisfied with that answer and was feeling relieved that all of this would soon be over! Little did I know that the nightmare was just getting started!
My long awaited natural Bradley birth was not going to happen. Instead, my child was to be surgically removed from my body. I have heard women describe a c/s as an experience that is comparable to rape. I know that is a strong, intense and even insulting word of comparison but I have to agree. At least for me it seems to be comparable in the definition of the word. Maybe it is not for some women who truly need a c/s or for those women who really didn't care one way or the other. But for me, or for someone who expected a natural birth, it felt like a complete violation of my body that has left scars inside and outside of my body. I can never get rid of these scars, only learn to live with them. They will be with me for my entire life.
When someone has a c/s who did not want it, there are similarities to that of a rape in the feelings of violation, abuse and powerlessness. Just think, you are whisked away from your loved ones, drugged and paralyzed, forced to lie on a table with your gown pulled up over your breasts, exposing your naked body for everyone to see, your sexual organs are threatened and literally cut in a climate of total fear. You are afraid and helpless, left vulnerable and at the mercy of the total strangers around you, all the time wishing that it wasn't happening. Or in my case, just struggling to survive! I really hope that this is not taken offensively. I know it is an extreme analogy.
The c/s was the worst part of my labor. I was wheeled into the operation room (I remember it was very cold and there was music blasting, De Peche Mode, I think) and then I was made to scoot myself onto the table. The table was skinny and flat and hard! It was painful for me to lie on my back. I wanted them to hurry up so I could lay on my side again. Then I was so worried that they would not give me another epidural. I kept asking to make sure they knew that my previous one was wearing off. They hooked me up and my lower body went completely numb. My legs felt heavy and hot. My arms were not strapped down like a lot of hospitals routinely do. They were laid on little platforms and I had my IV and blood pressure cuffs in place. DH finally came in with his sterile scrubs on. Now I just laid there and waited.
When the anesthesiologist told my husband to announce the sex of our baby, I was so happy because I thought it was almost over. DH told me the baby was a boy. I was trying to see the baby but they didn't hold him up for me. I must have been losing blood or something because I felt like I was going to pass out. I felt horrible! I had to keep my eyes closed and concentrate on staying awake. I kept saying that I was going to pass out but nobody said anything to reassure me. I didn't hear the baby cry but I didn't worry. I guess I couldn't because I was busy concentrating on staying awake. Finally he cried and DH brought him over to me. I could only open one eye and peak at him. I said "Hi B.." I knew that DH was taking pictures and I could see them later. Then DH and the baby left. I was alone or at least without any one person I felt like I could really trust.
There must have been a nurse with my name because when the other doctors were giving her instructions, I couldn't understand what they were saying, I only heard my name. I kept saying "What? I don't know what you are saying to me. Huh?" It was awful to feel that way. What makes me mad now is that nobody in that room tried to treat me with any respect or dignity! They completely ignored my comments and failed to help relieve me of distress and confusion! I was still very uncomfortable and just wishing that they would hurry. Then I started to shake. I had no control over it. I was also freezing. But all my complaints and worries went unanswered. It was as if I was not there or like I was just a piece of meat lying the table and nobody cared or even wanted to listen to me. Then as they were finishing up, I felt horrible cramping. I don't know what it was exactly or how to explain it but with everything else, I couldn't handle it anymore. I started to cry and yell at them to leave me alone! I told them I was finished and to let me go! They said that they were almost finished and that I could get on the gurney and go to recovery soon. I thought that I was going to be made to lift myself off the operating table myself. This made me more hysterical. "I can't get off the table. I can't!" But they told me, "You have to, there is no choice" It was terrible! I was so upset! The anesthesiologist at my head wiped some of my tears away and finally told the nurses "That is enough." I think they were pushing on my very tender and sore, newly stapled stomach. I also believe that they might have been pushing a little bit more than necessary because they didn't like me, but that could all be in my head.
As I was being wheeled into recovery (they did lift me onto the gurney) I was finally given a blanket to help me get warm. In recovery, I was still hysterical. I think my blood pressure was extremely high and my pulse was like 200! (That was a number I saw anyway). I was still on my back but I was paralyzed and couldn't roll over no matter how much I wanted to. I cried and cried and finally asked for my husband. The nurse told me to stop my crying and that she was not going to get him unless I stopped. She said that he had been crying too and that she couldn't have both of us crying in there. This made me feel better as you could have guessed! Thankfully, DH came on his own to see me. He had tried earlier but they wouldn't let him in the OR again. Once he was with me, the nurse changed her attitude and was nice to us.
I must have had been in the recovery room for over an hour. I remember begging to leave. I feel so guilty for not asking for my baby but honestly, I can't remember even thinking about asking for him then. I guess I had all of my energy concentrated on myself right then. But now that I know what my baby was going through, I am kicking myself for not remembering to have the nurses bring him to me. We went to my own room and I had to scoot myself onto my bed. That was HARD. But once I was in my own bed, it was the most comfortable bed I had ever been in! The nurses were getting me settled and DH went to get B. When they brought him to me, it was like, "Oh yeah, I had a baby!" I felt so relieved then. I held B and I just wanted to take off all of his clothes and look at him! Dh said, "Why don't you nurse him?". And I was like "Oh yeah, I wanted to do that." So I tried. It was a little awkward at first but B did beautifully. Our first time nursing went well considering that it seemed to be filled with interruptions. I had nurses coming in and out, DH was trying to gather our things from the labor room, and our family was calling us like crazy!
Then one particular nurse came in (she was specifically assigned to B, I think). She was upset that I was trying to nurse him. She was trying to tell me that he had very low blood sugar levels (due to stress during delivery) and that my nursing him would mess up the test levels. I was very confused and I didn't know what she was talking about. She said that B had a very stressful beginning because he wasn't breathing on his own for the first two minutes after delivery. I didn't know that! I looked at Paul but he was quiet. We hadn't even been together long enough to catch up on what had happened. So I asked the nurse to explain to me more of what happened.
When B, he was not breathing. They bagged him for about two minutes and were about to put him on a respirator when he finally started breathing on his own. This must have had been why they took him to the nursery instead of leaving him with me as they had promised. And then he had low blood sugar, and to add disappointment on top of disappointment, he had been given a bottle of formula while I was in recovery to bring up his sugar levels. Paul hadn't had a chance to tell me any of this yet but while I was in recovery, he saw all of this happening and he was banging on the glass, begging them to bring the baby to me. They obviously didn't listen. They were so intent on him having that formula that he was fitted with a NG tube to force the formula because he was throwing it up.
So when I finally was able to see B, he was on their schedule of formula feedings in an attempt to bring his blood levels back to normal. I didn't know anything about it so I agreed to let him have a bottle. I was allowed to nurse for 15 more minutes and then it would be time for a bottle. I tried to feed him the formula, but he kept spitting it up. The nurse came back and took him away to the nursery, promising to bring him back when he needed to eat next.
I woke up the next morning without ever seeing my baby. And when they brought him to me, he had another NG tube in place (due to throwing up the formula). They told me that if his blood sugar didn't go up within so many hours that he would have an IV. I asked if I would be able to try and nurse and the answer I got was, only if the baby REALLY wanted to. I nursed anyway.
All of this made me so mad! Especially after the lactation consultant visited me later that day. She seemed confused as to why they didn't let me try to bring his levels up with my colostrum. I wasn't allowed to try; I was actually discouraged from nursing at all! The next time I have a baby (and if I can help it, it will not be in a hospital) things will be different!
Update: Jen S. had a VBAC! She said it was a "natural VBAC, as planned. Still can't believe it. [She was] 8 lbs., 21 inches, and bigger than brother who was 'too big to pass through my pelvis.' ".
Becky's Story (posterior, fetal distress, c/s)
Kmom's Notes: Classic malposition story. The baby's posterior position was discovered only AFTER the mom was fully dilated and pushing and the baby was firmly stuck; a posterior is difficult to turn at that point. Baby displayed some fetal distress (another possible side effect of malposition) but her Apgars were good.
Birth Story
I was scheduled for an induction on Mon. the 27th and it looked like I would get in sometime in the afternoon, but I hadn't felt any strong fetal movement since Saturday so they had me come in for a NST. The nurse said that baby's heartrate should spike up when I had a contraction or when she moved but it didn't, so they admitted me at 10:00am and by 11:00 I was hooked up to the Pitocin (I was already dilated to 4 and 80% effaced) and boy, did it work quick!!
The Doc. was in and out checking the heartrate and seemed concerned about it enough to tell me that if it didn't pick up when she moved we might need to do a c/s. So, he put me on an oxygen mask for the whole time (yuk) and attached the internal fetal monitors (I almost came off the table it hurt so bad...she was still at a -2) and finally it started to go up like it should (whew!). He was also concerned about my BP, it was very low...85/40 average.
When the contractions got too bad to handle (about 2:00pm) the Doc. said I could have an epidural, and then all was good for a while. By 5:00pm I was fully dilated and ready to push....we pushed for 2 hrs. and by the end I kept telling them that it hurt really bad on my right side, the Doc. came checked me and said that she was face up and stuck firmly in my pelvis....so a c/s was our only option. I was very scared and upset, my mom and DH were in there with me and I made them both cry (I was a baby), they had my husband change his clothes and whisked me off into an OR.
The Anesthesiologist pumped up my epidural and we were prepped and ready at about 7:15pm, it felt like my doctors were going to yank me off the table but she was wedged in there pretty tight...it took them 7 min. to get her out after they opened me up. She was born at 7:28pm she weighed 8lbs 1oz and was 21 in. long, and her Apgars were 9 & 9.
She looks like I took her to a salon to have her hair highlighted, it's auburn and red with blonde highlights in it. Everyone at the hospital told me how beautiful she is (and she is!!). Well, it wasn't the most wonderful experience but I would do it all over again if I had to. G is so sweet! Nursing is going well too, she's a pro at it....and she even started in the nursery on bottles and pacifiers, so if anyone says that you can't nurse with big breasts (mine are G cup) tell them to take a hike!
Gina Marie's Story (pre-eclampsia, induction, fat-phobic doctor, classical c/s)
Kmom's Notes: Gina Marie was induced at 37 weeks because they suspected a 'big baby'; between 8.5 and 9.5 lbs. at 37 weeks by ultrasound. Because her baby was in the wrong position her labor stalled and she had a c/s. Her consulting OB chose to use a classical incision for the operation and was very insulting about her size; her c/s and recovery were a horror story.
In most cases, ultrasounds are very inaccurate for measuring 'large' babies near term, although in this case it was accurate. Inducing early for macrosomia (big baby) is clearly shown in research to INCREASE the rate of c/s without improving outcome at all, and anecdotally, many large women's c-sections are probably caused by this common practice of inducing early. However, Gina Marie's case is complicated by her blood pressure and edema at the end of pregnancy, and the size of her baby at 37 weeks made the decision more complicated. In most cases, inducing early for 'big baby' is clearly shown to worsen outcomes, but occasionally in selected cases can be helpful.
However, her midwives did little to prepare her cervix for induction, making an induction less likely to succeed, and the induction at 37 weeks resulted in fetal distress for her baby after it was born. Also, her baby was malpositioned, which is probably why labor did not progress. It is a difficult question whether the decision to induce helped or hurt her chances at a normal birth experience. Waiting even one more week might have helped her body and her baby to be more ready, yet the concern over blood pressure and edema was a real one.
Regardless, insult was added to injury when she encountered a very fat-phobic surgeon who was very unkind and discriminatory, and did a 'classical' up-down incision unnecessarily on her. Most very large women can still have a low-transverse (side-to-side or 'bikini') incision with careful management, or they can have an up-down or slightly higher side-to-side skin incision and a low side-to-side uterine incision. The reason given for a classical incision on very large women is to prevent infection in the moisture-prone area underneath the fat fold ("apron"), yet it should be noted that this classical incision infected badly---using a different incision didn't help! It is Kmom's anecdotal observation that the large women she has seen with classical "up-down" incisions have tended to have more problems than those with the "bikini" incisions. Regardless, nursing techniques (using a cool blowdryer on the incision, plus extremely strong antibiotics for very large women) can often help avoid many cases of infection in transverse incisions, making these practical even for large women. The decision to do a classical incision on Gina Marie was dubious at best.
Furthermore, the OB pressured her strongly while in labor (which is improper) to have her tubes tied in order to prevent her from having any more children. This is unethical and unprofessional, and much of her poor treatment after that may have been from the OBs attempting to punish her when she refused to have her tubes tied. She was later told that the classical incision would make it too dangerous to attempt to have another pregnancy at all, so one wonders if the doctor tried to prevent her from having more children by using this incision and accompanying scare tactics. [By the way, it's not true that a classical incision precludes subsequent pregnancy at all. It does raise the risk of rupture somewhat and most doctors will not permit the woman to try for vaginal birth subsequently, but it does not prevent you from having more kids. Many women (including some large women--see other stories) have had subsequent kids after a classical incision. This was pure scare tactics to frighten her out of having more kids.]
Gina Marie wanted to share her difficult story so that other large women can be aware of some common pitfalls to watch out for. She says, "I didn't have a good, normal birth story. In fact, my son's birth was absolutely horrible. However, there are some important things that I learned afterwards that I think large women need to know and need to be on the lookout for, and they will be evident by the end of my story."
Birth Story
Before I went to the hospital, I had this idea of what childbirth would be like, and it definitely did not include the experiences that I have had. There is a happy ending---I am alive, in possession of all of my faculties, and I have a gorgeous healthy baby boy. But I went through hell to bring him into this world.
I started out with the local midwifery practice (five midwives) for a lot of reasons. Number one, they seemed to be the most size-accepting. Number two, they were the least expensive. Number three, they were the only all-female practice, although I learned during the birth that female doctor does not necessarily mean understanding, sympathetic doctor. During labor, I was transferred to their backup OB practice. This practice consisted of eight doctors, only two of whom have a decent bedside manner.
I had an easy pregnancy for 8 months, except for the heartburn and the initial nausea. I had no real problems until the last month or so. I gained about 6 lbs. during the entire pregnancy. I ate right and exercised and really made an effort to take care of myself. Then, in my last month, I got really bad edema in my feet and legs, so severe that I was put on bedrest for two weeks. My blood pressure started spiking occasionally---not to the dangerous imminent stroke level, but enough to be worrisome. The highest reading I remember was 150/100. I felt like a sausage. I could wear one pair of shoes---my cross trainers---and only if I put them on first thing in the morning.
At 37 weeks I had an ultrasound to determine the baby's size and position, because it was difficult for the midwife to tell through my big belly. The ultrasound technician determined that my baby was between 8.5 and 9.5 pounds. The midwives consulted with their backup OBs, and they informed me that they felt it was in my best interest to have an induced labor---that I had a lesser chance of a c/s if they induced then. They were concerned that the baby would grow too large if I was pregnant for another three weeks. I went into the hospital on a Wednesday morning, and the midwives induced labor with Cervidil [Kmom note: a prostaglandin insert]. They applied Cervidil to my closed, hard cervix around 1 p.m. and I was in active labor by 7 p.m. My water broke around 11 p.m.
Sometime the next morning, they gave me a pitocin drip. I asked for and got narcotic painkillers. Finding veins has always been an ordeal for me, and it took three different phlebotomists about 10 sticks to get an IV started. I had 3 possibles, and the veins blew. I eventually dilated to 7 cm and stopped. Because of the problems with the IVs, the put in a central line on Thursday night when I was having heavy active labor. A central line is an IV in the jugular vein. It was really traumatic. I had to have a plastic sheet over my face while they were inserting it so that the area around my jugular would be sterile, and I had to lie flat on my back, which is terribly uncomfortable for a woman in labor. So, I was on my back, I felt like I was suffocating, and I was having contractions every minute or so. I could feel myself slipping out of reality. This was the worst physical sensation of all of it.
They decided at this time that the pitocin had done all it was going to do, so they took me off of the drip. They determined that if I didn't deliver on my own by morning, it would be the best course of action to give me a c/s. They thought it would be best if I could be sectioned with only an epidural, but after inserting the damn thing right after putting in the central line, they determined I could not breathe adequately while laying flat on my back for the epidural to be effective during surgery. Still I had the epidural and the accompanying fluids all night Thursday night. Friday morning, I still had not dilated past 7 cm, even though I had been contracting every minute or so for 24 hours. I think that the epidural slowed the labor further, and it didn't really do much for the pain. The fluids that accompany the epidural to keep the blood pressure from dropping inflated my feet and legs like the Michelin tire man. By morning, I could not lift my legs.
Kmom note: One of the known risks of pitocin is to increase swelling and retention of fluids. The fluids necessary with an epidural often tend to cause significant swelling in a woman who has undergone a long induction with pitocin. This (in addition to her previous swelling) made for a severe problem.
The OB came in and told me that she felt a c/s was warranted because my contractions were of sufficient power and duration that I should have pushed out the baby if he were able to come. His heartbeat had not wavered on the fetal monitor, but he had also not moved beyond a -2 station. I think what happened is that instead of facing forward or facing the rear, he was facing my left, and his shoulders were hung up on my pelvis. I could feel his little behind right below my ribcage all the way through labor. He never dropped down.
Kmom note: A malpositioned baby could certainly have caused many of the problems she encountered---stuck at 7 cm, a high and unengaged baby that would not move down, little progress despite painful and strong contractions, etc. And being stuck in bed due to the induction meant that she could not employ other methods of turning the baby, such as position changes, etc. This is one of the potential problems with induction.
This OB was the meanest, most evil bitch I have ever met. Even though I had shopped around and shopped around for pregnancy care that was not fat-phobic and would take into account only the facts of my health and not assumptions, the OBs backing up the midwives were not nearly as enlightened as the midwives were. So when she came in to discuss my surgery, the OB sat down and asked me if I wanted my tubes tied while she was in there. I was shocked and told her no, that this was my first child, and I didn't want to make decisions like that at the moment. And she countered with a speech that boiled down to "you are too fat to have any more children, you shouldn't even be having this one, and if I had anything to do with it, you wouldn't be." Then she discussed general anesthesia, and the dangers. Granted, fat people do sometimes have problems with general anesthesia. However, it was a little heavy-handed for her to instruct me to discuss funeral arrangements with my husband before I went into surgery. She asked me if I was an organ donor, and then said it didn't really matter. (I don't know what the hell this was supposed to mean. I guess she was implying that my organs were probably not acceptable or something.)
Kmom note: It is unethical to pressure a woman to have her tubes tied while in labor. In fact, in many places it is forbidden, deemed a decision made under duress. It was *extremely* inappropriate for this OB to be pushing this decision just because of the mother's size, and especially unethical to do it while she was in labor. However, OBs have had a history of doing this to women they don't approve of having children, from welfare mothers to minority women, etc. This is supposed to be totally unacceptable now, but it is still done to some women (including fat ones) at times. The other remarks and treatment she received were extremely unprofessional. This may have been a case of the doctors 'punishing' her for not going along with them.
I was given the prognosis of 'guarded'. It was my impression that she had never dealt with a patient my size before and that she didn't like fat people to begin with. I was scheduled for a c/s for 11 a.m. on Friday. Despite being a scheduled section, the OB chose to make a high vertical incision---a "classic" c/s incision----because she was not sure about operating under my belly "apron". This kind of incision precludes a VBAC. Later I learned that a bikini incision could have been done if I'd had a more experienced doctor [i.e., more experienced with fat women]. Part of me still feels like she did this kind of incision to punish me for being such a fat pig.
Kmom note: Even very large women can usually have a bikini cut or a modified version thereof. Only rarely is a classical incision necessary, but some doctors persist in using a classical incision on fat women anyhow. The concern is for infection, but with proper nursing techniques and special attention to prevention, infection can usually be avoided even in very large women, as noted.
My legs were so swollen from the epidural fluid and the previous edema that they were worried about blood clots in my legs. They wrapped up my feet and legs in ace bandages up to my thighs. They wheeled me down to the prep area for the Operating Room and the team of anesthetists gave me an arterial line (yet another big traumatic stick). My husband was there while they were prepping me for surgery, but the poor guy was as overwhelmed by the fatigue of being awake so long and the shock of the guarded prognosis and the business about funeral plans. He was sobbing loudly and disturbing the doctors. A nurse led him away.
I could hear my baby's heartbeat on the fetal monitor until they took it out a couple of minutes before they wheeled me into the operating room. He was strong and steady and never wavered, and I was grateful for that. I was halfway convinced that I was going to die. I remember thinking that it would be all right as long as my baby was OK. While they were strapping me down for the surgery, the 15 or so people in the room introduced themselves to me. The pediatrician and her staff came over and I told them to be sure and take care of my baby, no matter what happened to me. The nurses swabbed my belly with betadine and put the anesthesia mask over my face and I went out.
When I woke up there was a greenish light over my head and people were calling my name and telling me not to cough while they removed my ventilator tube. I don't even know how long I was in surgery. I found out later that I lost 2 liters of blood during the surgery. I have a 12 inch incision down the middle of my belly, starting about 4" above and 1/2" to the left of my navel and running parallel to it. The first time I saw the stitches, I thought they had sewn my navel shut. They told me later that they were prepared to keep me on the ventilator for 12 hours after the surgery, but I was up in the operating room on the first attempt at waking me. Basically, I handled the anesthesia like a normal person would, despite their dire predictions. As soon as they took me to the recovery room, they told me that my beautiful son was born at 12:27 p.m. and that he weighed 9 lbs, 7.3 oz.,, was 21.5 inches long, and had apgars of 8 and 9 and a full head of blond hair. We named him Jacob Baruch after two of his great-grandfathers. Baruch means Blessing in Hebrew, and he is a blessing in my life.
They took me to the ICU. I couldn't see my baby for 24 hours because he was in NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit). He was born in respiratory distress because of the narcotics, and he was also getting antibiotics because my water had been broken for so long. Late on Saturday afternoon, the neonatal nursing staff bent rules and rolled my boy up to see me in an isolette and let me hold him for a few minutes. I cried and cried. He had been screaming until I held him, and he immediately soothed and looked up at me. I swear he knew me. It was hard to hold him because I had wires and tubes everywhere, and so did he. I wanted so badly to breastfeed, but I couldn't because of all the stuff I was getting in my IV. A lactation consultant came and brought me a breast pump and I diligently tried to establish a milk supply, but the most I could manage was getting the inside of the breast shell wet. I was told that I would have to pump and dump for 3 days because of all the drugs in my system.
During the second day I was in ICU, I developed a fever. I was getting some very strong antibiotics through my IV, so they figured it wasn't an infection. The fever didn't go away within 24 hours. Monday morning they decided that I might have had a pulmonary embolism, and sent me to nuclear medicine for tests on that. They injected some kind of radioactive dye so they could see an embolism, and this made my hypothetical milk unusable for another 2 days. Well, I didn't have a pulmonary embolism. The OB said that I was possibly having microscopic blood clots from the surgery causing the fever. I was also having difficulty breathing when I wasn't sitting straight up. They determined my oxygen saturation level was low, and the bad OB who had been so mean to me said it was because of sleep apnea (which I had never had a problem with before or since). The next OB to come on shift after her did a blood count and determined that my hemoglobin was low, and I had a transfusion of two units of blood. I perked up immediately. This relief OB also prescribed some Lasix for me to help with the swelling, and I eliminated 6 liters of water in 24 hours. From the time I entered the hospital until I left, I lost 47 lbs. (and only 9.5 of it was my baby!).
I got up and started walking around about 3 days after the surgery, and it was incredibly difficult because of the incision and because I was so swollen. My feet were so swollen that it hurt to stand on them. I couldn't wear any shoes at all for a month after the surgery. I was released from the ICU into a regular room, and finally I was allowed to have my baby in my room with me so I could see him and feed him and care for him. I still had to sleep with oxygen and have my oxygenation level checked several times a day, but I felt like a regular patient, and I had more privacy, etc.
I kept trying to pump breastmilk for my baby, but was unsuccessful. I was also feeling horrible, could barely move, etc. and the OB said that she could give me medication that would make me feel much better and help me recover faster but it would make whatever milk I produced unusable for as long as I was on it. So I made the choice to take the medicine and feel better, since I had been unable to produce anything anyway. My breasts produced the occasional drop or two for a few weeks afterwards, but once I was out of the hospital and could safely nurse my son, he didn't want to take my nipple. This was really hard for me, because I strongly wanted to be able to breastfeed. I had been so sure that I would that I bought no bottles or pacifiers, only a breast pump and pads and a nursing bra. Because my baby and I were separated for so long, because I could not put him to my breast due to the drugs in my system, because I had undiagnosed thyroid disease at the time, and because I had traumatic blood loss during the surgery---all of these things worked against me. My son was also born with a tongue-tie, which would have hindered his latching on if I had been able to offer it to him. It seems that breastfeeding was just not in the cards for us.
Kmom note: A tongue-tie can be fixed with a small procedure and doesn't have to preclude breastfeeding. However, significant blood loss and resulting anemia is known to affect milk supply negatively, as does low thyroid. The problems she had getting any milk were probably a combination of no nursing access from the baby (a pump is not as efficient as a baby), her undiagnosed hypothyroidism, and the anemia affecting her milk supply. In addition, any medicine she took to help with the swelling may have also affected her ability to make milk.
I should mention that while I was in the hospital trying to get my blood oxygenation levels to an acceptable level and getting IV antibiotics and anti-inflammatories, every doctor in the whole evil practice came by my room to bitch at me for being fat and to talk about diets. Some were less aggressive and insulting about it than others, but they all felt it was completely important to tell me that I am too fat. "Have you ever considered dieting?" was how they all started out. Like any fat person in America could possibly get to be 30 years old without dieting at some point. Like I haven't been informed by family, friends, strangers, and doctors that I am fat fat fat fat fat and I need to diet for my entire life. As is this was a completely new discovery. I felt particularly betrayed when the lead midwife came in and gave me the speech. When I first became pregnant, I told her that I was worried about my eating habits and I wanted to take care of myself and give my baby good nutrition. I kept a food diary for two weeks and showed it to her on my next visit. It was a faithful diary. She praised me for the variety and content, told me that I was doing a good job of eating healthy low-fat foods. She suggested that I eat more protein, but otherwise did not criticize my eating habits. So it was a shock and a betrayal when she came in and told me that the best plan for my life was a really strict diet. The bitchy cruel OB got in on the act, which is hardly a surprise, and laid it on with a trowel. Not only did I need to diet, but if I did not do so, I would be dead before ten years, because women my size don't live past 40. My child would never love me because he would be so ashamed to have a fat mama. Fat women are bad mothers who can't keep up with their children, and their children suffer for it. By obstinately continuing to be fat, I would show myself to be an unfit mother.
I was so sick that I took her verbal abuse, but I am consumed with anger every time I think of it now. The nicer OB who discovered my anemia in the ICU came in and recommended Sugar Busters (which I had previously never heard of and I am still skeptical about. Steak, eggs, and cheese are great, but carrots and apples are bad for you? This was surreal advice). He was nicer about the whole deal because he said, "Let's be realistic. You're never going to get below 200 lbs. But I would like to see you considerably smaller than you are now." He then went on to ask me about my lowest weight since reaching puberty. I don't think it was the appropriate time for stern lectures, but at least he tried to take me reality and my feelings into consideration. It just gripes my ass that all of these health professionals who deal with pregnant and postpartum women every single day could not see that obstetrical complications are a risk factor for postpartum depression, and by lecturing me, they were adding to the stress level in my life. Talk about kicking a woman when she's down.
Once I got my blood oxygenation levels to an acceptable level and they were getting ready to release me, my incision opened. I had developed pockets of sero-sanguinous fluid underneath my incision, and the bottom four inches of it opened. That was a horror show. The wound oozed great gouts of syrupy fluid when it was pressed. It was 4 inches long and 2 inches deep and draining such that it soaked an abdominal pad in 3 hours. They packed it with gauze and bandaged it, and kept me in the hospital for observation for a couple of extra days to make sure that no infection would develop and that the wound would not open further.
After the doctors and nurses left from packing my wound, I was afraid to move. I was afraid if I turned over, my guts would spill out. I didn't know that people could go home with gaping holes in the belly like that, and I thought I was going to have to stay in the hospital for several more weeks. I started crying and really broke down. Did I get any expressions of sympathy or understanding? No, I got an offer of antidepressants. I prefer to get psychoactive drugs from psychiatrists, not obstetricians, so I refused. I was really angry and insulted that after all I had been through, feeling less than perky and chipper about everything was interpreted as a chemical imbalance that could be fixed with drugs.
Once I finally got home, I had home health care nurses for two solid months to help with changing my dressing, and they were terrific (both of them were BBWs). They were maternity specialists so they had seen lots of opened c/s incisions, and they assured me that skinny women got opened incisions too. My wound never opened down to the fascia layer so even though it was deep, it was not as bad as it could have been. One of the nurses gave me advice about caring for my child, and also recommended the OB/GYN I am seeing currently. My husband also helped change my dressings. I never dreamed that I would be asking such a personal task of him. It's so...unsexy and gross. My husband was such a trooper through all this. He kept joking that now he knew me inside and out. The wound eventually abscessed, but the home health care nurse caught it early so it was not as bad as it could have been. When she saw it, it was a red place the size of a quarter. By the time I got to the emergency room that afternoon, it was as big as my hand. The nurse saved my life because she acted so quickly. I was in the hospital again for two days receiving IV antibiotics.
At my postpartum appointment, I complained of being cold all the time and that I had lost my sense of smell. I could not tell when my son had a dirty diaper because I could not smell it. Eventually they discovered that I had hypothyroidism (Hashimoto's disease) which I probably had for some time but at a sub-acute level. My internist believes it was triggered into active stage by the trauma of Jacob's birth. [Kmom's note: Childbirth can trigger thyroid problems, but it's often missed by doctors. It's good that this was caught by her internist.] I also had a CAT scan to rule out a brain tumor. I saw the hateful OB for postpartum checks but not since. I saw a counselor for my postpartum depression and I described this OB as having the bedside manner of a prison guard. The counselor immediately knew which OB I was referring to. Evidently she has this reputation all over town, and it's not just me.
The new OB (recommended by the home health nurse) is wonderful. She is a recent graduate and much more size-accepting. She was shocked that I had a vertical incision. The hateful OB informed me that the kind of incision that they made in my uterus will make it incredibly dangerous for me to attempt another pregnancy. Instead of a bikini cut near the thicker bottom of the uterus, they cut along the length of it at the top where it expands more. Therefore, a subsequent pregnancy could cause the uterus to rupture and I would die horribly from a hemorrhage. Sex becomes much more ominous now. The new doctor said that although she wouldn't recommend another pregnancy for me because of all the surgical complications, it was by no means a death sentence. She said that she could manage me if I became pregnant again. [Kmom's note: As noted, a classical incision does NOT preclude future pregnancy. This may have been another attempt by the OB to keep her from having more children.]
As if I didn't have enough to deal with, the insurance company refused to pay all of my bill. We have been round and round with the insurance company over this for almost 2 years now and still owe the hospital several thousand dollars. I was laid low by postpartum depression and the Hashimoto's disease. It took me almost a year to get to my old self. But I have a gorgeous, healthy, smart little boy who is nearly 2 years old now. He is strong and beautiful, and despite the dire warnings, he does love his mother. I managed to finish my MSW degree eventually after all this too.
Warnings for other women:
Kmom's postscript: It's very important to take time to emotionally heal after a difficult birth. Most women are told to 'be grateful you had a healthy baby' as if their feelings about their labor and birth don't count. Of COURSE you are grateful to have a healthy baby, but at the same time it is perfectly fine to be less-than-thrilled about the labor or birth, while still fully loving your baby. In addition, if you have a particularly traumatic birth or poor treatment by your providers, it's extremely important to fully work through and grieve it completely. This is not a fast process, but it IS a very healing one, and is particularly helpful before moving on to another pregnancy or deciding to end your childbearing years. In order to help this process along, there is a list of books that can help on my Book Recommendations FAQ on this website. I highly recommend checking these out; healing is not an easy process but it is a vital one and it will bring growth and benefits to many facets of your life, whether or not you choose to have further children.
Dana B's Story (fraternal twins, diet-only gd, c/s)
Kmom's Notes: This mom was given an 1800 calories a day food plan, despite having twins, and told to drink Slimfast to keep down her weight gain. She had a borderline gd reading; her doctor elected to treat it as gd just in case despite it not meeting the full standard diagnostic criteria. Because her twins were not positioned well, she had a c/s. She had a lot of blood loss afterwards, which may also have affected her milk supply (see above). (Many times undiscovered or undertreated anemia after blood loss in childbirth can impact milk supply.) Being a bit undernourished in the pregnancy may also have possibly affected her milk supply and made it more difficult to rebuild her blood supplies, although it's difficult to say for sure.
Birth Story
After a year or more of trying to conceive and a couple of months considering fertility treatment options, we decided to try Serophene (which is the same or a similar chemical to Clomid). With this decision we knew we were taking a chance of having multiples, twin primarily, but we felt that it was worth the 9% risk stated in the materials. (Of course, I found out later I have *four* sets of twins in my family history so that fact certainly increased our odds.)
At my 11 week appt., my first one after getting pregnant, the OB could feel my uterus quite high---when he shouldn't be able to feel it at all yet. He sent me for my first ultrasound, where we saw two tiny sacs with beating hearts! (DH was sick that he missed this appointment!) After all the trying, waiting, and consideration, I thought I was ready for this possibility, but I was not. The nurses teased me about the look on my face for the rest of the pregnancy! I was in shock---all I could think of was double the daycare, double the clothing, braces, college---double *everything*! Dh, on the other hand, was ecstatic! "Hnnng! *I* did that!" said my caveman.
My OB works with infertility patients frequently, so has delivered many sets of twin--which has taught him to be very cautious. He leans toward intervention, which didn't bother me. I'm not much of an "au natural" kind of person; with doctors in my family, I trust them. However this OB *did* have a thing about weight, and Kmom and others were shocked when I mentioned that he recommended that I use SlimFast to avoid weight gain. I cried, and Kmom recommended that I find a new, more balanced OB, but I really trusted him when it came to the babies. I decided to ignore any weight-related comments and focus on the healthy-baby ones.
I loved being pregnant, despite the bedrest and preterm labor. I know that I crave attention, so I ate it up with a spoon during this time! I also enjoyed having a big belly that I could be proud of. I didn't have morning sickness, but "ligament stretching" is a bear! My bones and ligaments had a lot of adjusting to do to fit those two babies into my 5'3 frame!
At my 33 week appointment, I mentioned that it felt like A (on bottom) was sticking one little finger out my cervix and wiggling it, like he was trying to get out. (Yes it felt kind of weird, kind of tickly-itchy.) It was my cervix changing--I had dilated to a 2 and was 50% effaced. My OB sent us directly across the street to the hospital to check in. I had not noticed any contractions, even "false labor" ones, so this was a surprise.
Sure enough, the monitor showed some contractions, but I couldn't feel them. We were able to control the contractions with Brethene and Procardia (asthma and heart medications that soothe smooth muscle groups, like those around your uterus). A couple of time, the contractions got a little feisty, so we used injectible Brethene instead of pills, but that always worked. We never had to go to the 'hard' stuff like mag sulfate. If I had lived closer to the hospital instead of 45 minutes away, they would have sent me home. Instead, I moved in for the long haul. I was on pretty strict bedrest. I wasn't to sit up except to eat, but I could go to the restroom and take a 5-minute shower every other day. I looked forward to shower days! My parents stayed at our house during this time and visited me during the day. DH visited in the evening after work and on his days off. I didn't have much time for boredom between nurses, family, and other visitors!
At 35 1/2 weeks, my OB told me I could get out of bed! He was satisfied with the twins' development. He still wanted me to stay at the hospital, though, because A was frank breech and B was transverse---which meant I'd have a c/s (this OB doesn't like to put the second baby at risk by trying to turn one or both when they aren't in head-down position). He told us to go out to lunch and to the store to buy the babies something, then come back to the hospital like it was an apartment. (Odd arrangement, but woohoo! Sunshine! Real Food!)
I never made it--and am glad (my water would have broken in a restaurant, ugh!). While we waited for the hospital to figure out his "treat us like an apartment" order, my water broke! Once we convinced the nurse that I hadn't just wet myself, thing got exciting. I got an IV, DH got scrubs on (thank goodness he was even there!), and we wheeled down the hall to the OR, where I got scared for the very first time during the whole pregnancy. Something about that room was suddenly very intimidating. And the contractions got quite strong by that time, too. DH held me while I got an epidural (that hadn't seemed scary until that very moment--but it went fine).
Ahh...then there was no pain and not nearly so much stress. The doctor came in, a nurse turned on some rock and roll music for him, and DH watched the whole surgery from beside my head. (But he wouldn't videotape it for me....sigh). The surgery must have happened really fast, because the twins were only a minute apart, but that was a really looonnng minute, it seems! I just remember an awful lot happening between babies, and nothing seemed to occur at a frantic pace--but then, I was pretty loopy. DH took the babies to the nursery for their baths while the doctor put me back together. I decided to take a nap at this point. I woke up to go to the recovery room.
Then things got exciting again. My uterus didn't clamp down like it should, so I continued to bleed profusely where the placenta had been. My blood pressure dropped to 64/40 or something and the nurses began working quickly. They shut my parents out of the room and paged a doctor. He ordered a shot of something and the nurses pushed on my stomach to help pressure-stop the bleeding. It worked and I was stable by the time DH brought the babies back from the nursery to see me. I got to try nursing them there in recovery, but we were all pretty tired, so mostly we snuggled.
My recovery from the c/s wasn't anything to write home about, but it was okay. I didn't realize that I should have continued taking iron pills to compensate from the lost blood, so I was even more tired than I would have been already. Between that, lack of sleep, and the extra energy it takes to make milk, I was a very tired camper for the first several weeks! But we had *two* precious babies! Nope, it wasn't the birth story I expected, but it has worked out beautifully. I made it and even went back to work part-time at 5 weeks (I burned 3 weeks of leave in the hospital). And I'd say our family is now flourishing in an "all-time best" period of fun and communication...although the twins do take a toll on our ability to manage romantic encounters!
My best advice for delivering moms? Request prunes with every meal. Don't ask---just eat the prunes! :-)
Kmom's Cesarean Stories (diet-only gd, induction, traumatic c/s; no gd, posterior baby, CBAC)
Kmom's Notes: It's difficult to be objective about one's own birth experiences, but with many years behind me, I can see that this pregnancy was a call to healing. I was very scared, had no information about plus-sized pregnancy, was treated as high-risk by nearly everyone due to my size (though they were deceptively nice about it), and was undergoing major life transitions at the time. Although I did some pregnancy reading, I didn't do enough, had few resources for questioning what I was told, and behaved like a compliant 'good little girl' ought to. It took a horrendous birth experience to shake me out of that pattern. Although I cannot be glad for that experience, it certainly did set me on a different life path, started a great deal of valuable soul-searching and healing, and I can honor the learning and change that has come from it. And of course, I got the most precious baby in the world from it!
Birth Story
My first child was conceived during a period of great stress. I was very unhappy with the changes in my job, was working very long hard unhealthy hours, had too many extra activities, was deep in grief for my father who had died the year before, and was not being as healthy as usual in eating and exercise habits. To top it all off, just as we found out I was pregnant, my husband was laid off.
Although the pregnancy was a surprise, we welcomed it and were excited, if a tad worried about insurance coverage and plans. Then I began spotting, which continued off and on throughout the whole first trimester. This forced me to re-organize my life, drop my extra commitments, stop working so hard and long, and take time to just rest. It also meant no exercise. After a while, the OB agreed to do a vaginal ultrasound. This eliminated ectopic pregnancy, a significant worry, but it wasn't clear whether there was one baby or two. A further scan two weeks later showed only one baby. Thus the bleeding might have been a 'vanishing twin', low progesterone levels, or simply the random spotting that occurs in many pregnancies at first. We'll never know.
The doctor did not treat me meanly but did nothing to alleviate my fears, telling me (incorrectly) that my chances of miscarriage were 50% (they drop down once a heartbeat is seen), and was not very encouraging about my chances. She did no testing on hcg numbers or progesterone levels, which could have told us a lot more; I think she basically wrote me off as a miscarriage. But she came recommended and was one of the few accepting new patients in the area, so I didn't complain.
I experienced very significant nausea, but she told me "not to worry" if I couldn't eat; "the baby would take what it needed." The plan I was given was low on protein and very high in carbs. This set up a pattern of wildly swinging blood sugars and ketone levels that would take 7 months to straighten out, and quite possibly added into my own insulin resistance and stress levels to cause my gd. Ah, hindsight! She did send me for a one-hour gd test in the first trimester, which was borderline. I then passed the 3-hour GTT (which made me shaky and sick); no further nutritional guidance was given. I believe that had I only been given some instruction in gd food plans at that point, I probably could have avoided actual gd, but nutrition is not a high priority for most OBs.
Once I reached the second trimester, the spotting stopped, we relaxed, and I began really bonding with the baby. We took the AFP test without really understanding it, and when it came back low, we were devastated. No counseling was provided by the OB; a cold phone call from a nurse was all we got. We were sent for genetic counseling, which was terrifying because I am adopted and have no family history to fill in. It turns out that the reason the test was low was either because my cycles are long (making the baby younger than they thought), or because heavy women tend to have lower levels due to a larger circulating blood volume and they did not correct enough for that. We were pressured into an amnio, which was very painful (story in prenatal testing section). The doctor was very cold and unkind and blamed all the problems on my size (probably untrue). I experienced bleeding and cramping afterwards, and spent a horrible Xmas waiting for the results and wondering if I'd miscarry. After bonding so strongly with the baby during the bleeding scare, this was really awful.
When the results came back fine (it was a girl!), we rejoiced and thought we were home-free. Not so. My husband was transferred to another state, and we had to leave our jobs, get the house ready to sell, and find a new house VERY quickly. Talk about stress! And during all this, I had to take my next gd test. It too was borderline, so I took the 3 hour GTT again, but no one gave me any guidelines on it, so I took it while I was sick and TOTALLY stressed in my last week at work. Not surprisingly, I went over the cutoffs this time. I had to try and adjust my diet as we moved, but after moving my numbers became normal with care. I was devastated to have gd, felt like I was being put on a 'diet' again after years of freedom from dieting stupidity, and humiliated that I had a 'fat person's disease.' However, at least I managed to get it under good control quickly.
I really wanted to find a midwife practice in my new town, but was told I needed an OB due to the gd (not true but I didn't find that out till later). I chose the OB that seemed extremely personable, would not automatically induce at 38 weeks, and had a great bedside manner. The ultrasound predicted an average-sized baby at first so I was 'permitted' to go to term, but he wouldn't allow me to go beyond 40 weeks. We induced on a long hard unripe cervix, and I spent the night before writing a good-bye letter to my daughter because I had a bad feeling about it all. Sure enough, Dr. Right turned out to be Dr. Wrong in labor and the birth as a result was quite traumatic. Being "nice" does not make you a decent doctor.
We did two doses of prostaglandin gel, then started the pitocin the next morning. Labor was easy to handle, especially since I was allowed some walking and rocking until the doctor broke my waters at noon (I was 2 cm dilated and she was at a -2 station; breaking the waters when she was so high up was contraindicated and dangerous but he didn't tell us that. Fortunately for us, her cord did not prolapse, but what the doctor did was dangerous). At that point I was not allowed out of bed, and labor became excruciating. The baby was quite probably in the wrong position, which is what probably caused all the pain, but Lamaze breathing was NOT capable of handling this kind of pain! We tried IV meds before finally resorting to an epidural. In this case, the epidural was a blessing (for a while anyhow) and allowed me to finish dilating, even though it was not fully effective and had a 'window'. By about 17 hours into labor, I was fully dilated and ready to push.
We pushed for 2 hours with no progress. She stayed high (-2 station) and unengaged. Even with epidural left, I felt tremendous pain on one side of my back, another indication of position problems. We used stirrups for pushing; I asked to try squatting. But this did not budge her either; she was stuck. I was exhausted by the 'purple pushing' by then, in a lot of pain (despite the epidural) from her malposition, and requested the c/s.
The next part I will leave out most of the grisly details on, but basically I felt the surgery intensely. It was a horrendous experience, *deeply* traumatic. They tested to see if I was still numb, I told them I DID feel something but they didn't believe me and started cutting anyhow. I kept telling them to stop but they would not, and soon I started fighting. They told me they could not give me anything more until the baby was born and strapped me down. I fought, I begged, I pleaded for them to stop, but they did not. I went into shock. They gave me some meds to try and help but they didn't. They just applied a chemical gag to me so I couldn't scream anymore.
The day that was supposed to have been the best day of my life----becoming a mother for the first time-----instead became one of the worst days of my life. Instead of joy, all I felt was terror and pain and rage and violation. When they finally showed me my baby, all I could think was, "Thank God! Now I can go." Instead of rejoicing, all I wanted to do was die. This is one of the sources of greatest rage and sorrow for me. What a way for my baby to come into the world, and what a way for me to enter into motherhood.
I'll leave out the rest of the details (it was pretty gruesome for a while) but it greatly affected all of us and has taken many years to heal. The hospital staff ignored it as if it never happened. When I asked the OB about it, his only response was, "Next time you can have a spinal instead." No one apologized, no one comforted me, no one even acknowledged it even happened or that it might affect me at all.
My baby was taken to the NICU nursery, given formula even though her blood sugar was fine and they knew we were nursing, and she was given a pacifier. Although my husband tried to be with her, he wasn't sure what to do with a newborn and was concerned about me, so my baby was basically abandoned for hours, something my heart will always ache over. It was a long time before I was permitted to try nursing her, and she developed jaundice between the gd, the pitocin, and the lack of nursing (all risk factors for jaundice). However, luckily, despite the difficult birth and terrible c/s and separation, the minute I saw her, we bonded like insta-glue and were deeply connected.
That was good, because nursing was very difficult at first! Traditional positions made me very sore (only the football hold worked well), she had many bottles of formula and glucose water at the hospital, and the jaundice and drugs made her extremely sleepy and unresponsive. She narrowly avoided needing treatment with bili lights; the nurses and doctors told me to use glucose water to 'flush out the jaundice' but I have since found out that this actually increases jaundice. Between the c/s, the bottles, the lack of frequent nursing, and the severe edema I had from the pitocin and IV fluids, my milk did not come in for many days, but increasing the nursing seemed to help somewhat. Eventually we were able to slowly eliminate more of the bottles. I was too hesitant to see a lactation consultant, but eventually we managed to work out nursing despite everything. After a month and a half or so, we were fully nursing. It was very healing to finally have something work the way it was supposed to!
We had a very difficult start, from her very stressful pregnancy to her difficult birth. She developed a roaring case of diaper rash, then had 4 solid months of colic as her body struggled to cope with all the stress, drugs, formula, etc. I have since been told also that many babies that are malpositioned experience severe colic; cranial-sacral therapy is supposed to help, but it sounded too "far out" for me to try back then.
Luckily, at 4 months, a switch magically flicked and she became much easier! Nursing went well and was very healing for us both. Although I never really intended to nurse beyond 3-4 months, we mutually decided to continue for over 4 years, including through her baby brother's pregnancy. I think the nursing really went a long way to healing the difficulties of her pregnancy and birth. She eventually weaned of her own volition, and I am very glad I didn't force the issue, since she seemed to really need it. She is a very healthy, smart, and active little girl now, and I love her deeply.
The pregnancy was a tough one, but it ultimately lead to a lot of healing and changes. I lead a much less stressful life now, have worked hard on healing, have taken up exercising again, and although I do not diet I am careful again about what I eat and its timing. By being much more proactive about diet and exercise, I have been able to avoid gd in subsequent pregnancies, despite my age. I also am MUCH more careful about the health providers I select now, and am assertive about researching health care decisions. In many ways, I am a new person now, born through the fire and difficulty of this pregnancy and birth, and although I would never have chosen these experiences I can value the healing and growth that has come from them. But sometimes I do mourn the peaceful and joyful pregnancy and birth that was taken from me by circumstances and insensitive providers.
Pregnancy #2
Kmom subsequently had a baby boy 2 years later. She avoided gd in that pregnancy, although she very carefully measured her blood sugars every day anyhow, even after passing the test. Though her blood sugars were under excellent control, her second baby was larger, 9 lbs. 11 oz. and 21.5 inches long. This is apparently just genetic on her side of the family, not related to blood sugar after all. She eventually found a good set of nurse-midwives in this pregnancy and labored all-naturally---a non-induced labor is MUCH easier to deal with! She labored at home for a while with a doula, then went to the hospital, where she labored in a tub and went from 4 cm to 9.5 cm in 2 hours.
However, the baby was posterior, which went undiagnosed and unfixed, so the baby got stuck. After 5 hours of pushing, she had a repeat c/s (this time with a spinal!); as c-sections go, this was a 'good' one. The anesthesia worked fine, the staff paid close attention to her wishes, the baby was able to stay in the O.R. with them, no formula or pacifiers were given, she was able to nurse right away in recovery, and she roomed in with the baby (including co-sleeping with the baby in her hospital bed). Although not getting a VBAC was very disappointing, with a little perspective Kmom was glad to have labored instead of choosing a repeat c/s. She has since wondered if perhaps she needed a 'good' c/s to heal the trauma of the first horrid c/s.
Kmom recently had baby #3 and baby #4, this time vaginally. She avoided gd again in both pregnancies, despite being near or over 40, though she was careful to measure her blood sugar throughout as a precaution. Her third baby, induced at 38 weeks, was much smaller (7 and a half pounds, though he probably would have been close to 9 lbs if he had been allowed to go to term). However, once again, the induced labor was very difficult to deal with and she swore never again to be induced. Her fourth baby was born in the water at home, after an all-natural, totally spontaneous, NON-induced labor. It was the best birth of them all!
For Kmom's VBAC stories, see below; for a more complete version, see BBW VBAC Stories. For excruciatingly complete versions of all of her birth stories, see the section on Kmom's Birth Stories. For what it's worth, even though none of her births were easy, the VBACs were the best births of them all, and MUCH easier to recover from than a cesarean. However, each woman must choose what is right for them.
Michele's Story (triplets!, classical c/s)
Kmom's Notes: These triplets were not conceived with fertility drugs. Please note that with higher-order multiples, a classical (up-down) incision is often used, as in this case.
Birth Story
My husband and I had just gotten married when I found out I was pregnant a month later. Around Christmas time I started bleeding and called my OB's office. I hadn't seen the OB yet because he likes for his patients to be at least 10 weeks at the first office visit. When I called the OB's office he had me come in for an ultrasound. I was given a vaginal ultrasound since I was only about 8 weeks pregnant. I thought I was having a miscarriage so imagine my surprise when the u/s tech asked me if I was taking fertility drugs! I told her no, I was not, why do you ask? To which she answered, well, you are having triplets!
My first reaction was to cry (from relief that I wasn't having a miscarriage and from shock). The tech went and got my husband who came in and saw me crying and assumed the worst. After he was told our "baby" was in fact 3 babies, he screamed, "WHAT!!!!", loud enough for everyone in the waiting area to hear! The tech informed the doctor what she had seen on the u/s and we were ushered into his office for the standard speech on what could happen, such as we could lose one or all of the babies, complications, etc. I was sent home on 2 weeks bedrest with bathroom privileges only. By the end of the 2 weeks the bleeding had stopped (it was caused by me helping my husband lift the 100 lb. headboard onto our waterbed which caused a small tear in the lining of my uterus).
I worked until 20 weeks of pregnancy. I wasn't ever put on bedrest again, but my OB did advise me to take it very easy. Basically, all I did for the rest of the pregnancy was take my husband to work each morning, come home, eat, go to bed for more sleep, eat lunch, rest again, pick my husband up, eat again, and go back to bed! On weekends I went to garage sales with my mom to stock up for our soon to be larger family. I had about 15 u/s/ during my pregnancy, non-stress tests done 3x a week during the last month (during all of these I have 1 contraction), and developed pre-eclampsia. I was so swollen I couldn't wear any shoes except for velcro strap flip-flops. They would varely fasten and 2 weeks after the girls were born you could still see strap marks on my ankles!
At 34 weeks I developed a cold and couldn't sleep laying down. I tried to sleep reclining on the couch for 3 days, but that didn't work so I finally went in to the hospital ER on Saturday. I was admitted to L/D because of the protein in my urine, where they did a 24 hour urine catch. After the urine was analyzed the doctors decided to deliver my girls. My OB, the Pediatrician, and the neonatologists who were going to be there were all out of town for the 4th of July. My OB's partner, plus another OB who offered to assist, the Ped's partner, and the neonatologist's partner all were there for my delivery.
I was given an epidural and then I was taken into the OR at about 9:30 and the girls were born at 10:03, 10:04, and 10:05 a.m. I experienced a window from the epidural where I could feel it when they clamped back my bladder so as soon as all the girls were born I was given Demerol by IV. Within 2 hours of their birth the nurses got me up and took me to see my babies. I did have a spinal headache caused by the epidural, which the nurses diagnosed. I was given a blood patch to clear that up (a blood patch is when they draw blood from your arm and inject it into the back to clot the hole that was punctured in the spinal column from the epidural, which causes spinal fluid to leak, causing a spinal headache).
I was in the hospital for a total of 6 days. Two of my babies came home after 2 weeks and the third came home after 3 weeks. All three were very healthy and only needed to learn to suck and gain weight. That's my story and I'm currently pregnant with child #4 (just one this time!).
Erin's Story (classical c/s, 2 repeat low transverse c/s)
Kmom's Notes: Erin's first c/s was done with a classical (up-down) incision. Although she cannot be sure, she believes this may have been due to fat-phobia on the part of the doctor. Her subsequent doctor saw no reason to do a classical incision on her and her subsequent c/s have been done with a low transverse incision (bikini cut, horizontal just above the bikini line).
Erin's first doctor's decision to do a (probably unnecessary) classical incision took away all her future birthing choices in the eyes of the obstetrical world. She greatly desired a VBAC but because of her previous classical incision, her doctor would not agree to a trial of labor, although he was very sympathetic to her dilemma. Although some women with classical c/s have gone on to have VBACs, the rate of uterine rupture is somewhat higher with a classical scar, and it is extremely difficult to find a provider who will attend you if you try for a VBAC after a classical c/s. Although there are some who will, most will not, and Erin was not able to find a provider for this pregnancy who would try.
Birth Story
On Sunday, I spoke with my OB on the phone about refusing the c/s and he said I'd have no care from him if I did that. So Monday I started calling around but no one was interested in me at all. They all thought I was crazy. I kept taking calls until Wednesday afternoon, and though some wanted to take me, they just couldn't let me labor in good conscience. Wednesday I had a check-up with my OB. I asked if there was any way to wait until early labor to do the surgery and the answer was no. After the appointment, we waited for my best friend to get off work and then proceeded to the local Outback steakhouse. I wasn't going into that stupid surgery without a really good meal first!! I always have to wait 2 days until I can eat real food after my c/s. I had a big dinner. My friend stayed overnight to help with the kids---we had a slumber party. My DH got up early Thursday to buy me breakfast because I couldn't eat after 6 a.m.
I was in good spirits upon arrival to the hospital and they were expecting me in L&D. The nurse seemed nice enough and wanted to get a tracing on the baby's heart rate so she tried to fit the monitor belt around me which was uncomfortable (I'm quite large), but she finally got enough after 45 minutes and a wiggly baby. She said I'd had 1 contraction during that time. Guess that was supposed to make me feel better? I was very swollen so she took 2 unsuccessful tries to put my IV in. It hurt a bit but all the memories of what was going to happen to me in the next 2 days came flooding back. I was crying and she kept saying, "Does it hurt?" I was like, "No," but I couldn't really talk. Finally my husband told her I didn't want the c/s. She was pretty sympathetic and started talking about the baby. I guess I calmed a bit after that and she got another nurse who finally got the IV in. They started fluid almost immediately.
My OB was delayed. The anesthesiology team arrived; there was an older guy and a younger guy (in training). I got prepped and numbed in the site of the injection, leaning over curled. I felt at least 3 needle sticks and it was quite uncomfortable (later everyone who looked said there were 6 definite holes in my back). They were apparently having trouble getting the needle into the epidural space. This was my 3rd epidural and I'd never had a bit of trouble with the other 2. Now this! My mom said I sat rock still for over half an hour and by the time they were done there was blood running down my back. I so wished my husband had been permitted to be there; he would have insisted they stop or get another team to do it. Immediately after they put a test dose in I felt numb. So they were wondering if it was a spinal instead of an epidural! I was very numb. I was very upset and they kept talking about me in the third person. Finally I convinced them it was a spinal and I wasn't very happy about it, and the older guy keeps telling me how superior the spinal is for pain relief. At one point the young guy takes a syringe and draws fluid up from the catheter. He says it looks clear. I was like that's my spinal fluid, put it back in!!! I was thinking, well maybe this was for the best (I kept remembering the horror stories about bad epidurals). My numbness wore off before 5:30 but they wheeled me into the O.R. and I got onto the table. It was very uncomfortable and they tilted the table and had something under me.
Finally I see the doctor and of course a med student wants to observe. Great. One more person to see my baby before I do. My husband arrives with the older anesthesiologist who wants me to be brutally honest after the surgery with him about the epidural vs. spinal. The young anesthesiologist guy starts to put something into my back catheter and says "45 mg?" The older guy says "Sure." So the young guys says, "Or 100?" And the older guy says "Sure." I'm thinking, "Great."
Anyway it took immediately again and as soon as they prepped the site of incision I was ready. I remember smelling my burning flesh as they cauterized the "bleeders". I remember the doctor and assistant saying how good everything looked. Finally the baby's out! The older anesthesiologist said he'd let me hold her but he's nowhere to be seen. I'm starting to feel numbness and tingling in my hands which I know is wrong. I starting moving and shaking them (I had told them I didn't want to be taped down). They bring the baby close to me; I can't hold her because my hands are numb. She pooped when she came out (meconium) and has this muted cry, not like my others. My husband holds her and I start to feel really funny. Very uncomfortable all over and feeling like I need to run away NOW! My chest feels heavy and I don't feel like I'm breathing. They tell me they're putting my uterus back in. I say, "How much longer?" They say 15 minutes. I don't think I can take it. I feel nauseous. They young guy holds the tray next to my head and I throw up twice. I'd do it more but I can't because I'm too numb to even throw up!!! My arms are really flailing now and the young guy says if you don't be still I'm going to have to put you to sleep. I say, "No! I don't want to go to sleep." He says, "You have to calm down then." As if I can control any of this!! It's his fault! I didn't know what was happening and I really thought I was going to die then and there. My doctor asks if I'm okay, that they were almost done. I don't remember much else but my DH told me he let them give me a little something to calm me for a few minutes because I was apparently trying to get off the table and was actually moving my stomach. I know I was trying to move my feet. I kept saying, "I can't feel my feet!!!"
Finally I remember being back in my room. I told my husband to go ahead and take the baby to the nursery; she'd pooped again and he could give her a bath. I certainly was in no shape to hold her, and didn't really want to either. We'd previously decided to forego the bath so she and I could bond immediately. So much for that. Also I'd asked the doctor not to announce the sex; I wanted to find out for myself. Well, he forgot. Mom says when they brought me in I was still flailing and she was scared. I'm told they can't use the catheter that's already in place for pain relief because the dosage would be so small it wouldn't be useful. They hooked morphine up to my IV. I was already hurting. I really don't remember much here. I could move pretty soon and we went on to Maternity. By now it's about 10 p.m. and we hadn't called very many people. We figure they can wait until tomorrow. I do call the kids and tell them they have a baby sister. I don't remember when I saw the baby. I know she was beautiful. I tried to breastfeed and it seemed she was doing well considering the size of her head was about half the size of my breast!
The hospital stay was really sucky. I remember seeing the doctor the next morning and he immediately asked if I remembered anything about the surgery. He said he asked the anesthesiology team what in the world they did to me, that was not my personality! He said there was really no or nearly no scar tissue and the surgery itself went really well. I was not up to visitors at all but got plenty. I was sore and grouchy and felt so confined in that stupid room. There weren't enough nurses so my requests were ignored or put off. I was upset when they removed the morphine drip because I had to ring the nurse for pain meds. The back catheter was to stay in for 24 hours and wash with saline. The nurse wouldn't remove the urine catheter until the back came out and forget the IV. It was really impeding my ability to breastfeed comfortably because of the way the hospital gown was made (ties instead of snaps). The IV was threaded through the arm of my gown. I didn't have real food until Saturday lunch. I begged the doctor on call to let me go home. We left Saturday at 4 p.m., less than 48 hours after the surgery. I was so grateful to him! He remembered me crying to go home after I'd had one of my previous babies.
This recovery has really been a bear. I was so sore, much more so than last time, and the first time too, I think. I still have numbness right above and down to the incision site, and in the back where I sit down. The baby has been so sleepy that she doesn't latch on for very long or suck for very long. I'm pretty sure my milk came in anyway but it has since dwindled to nearly nothing because my sweet kids gave their sister a cold by kissing her in the hospital. She slept for 2 days straight when she was catching the cold. We finally got her to take a bottle and she seems to be doing fine. Still not staying latched on long enough to increase my milk supply. This is extremely depressing for me. It's like, I couldn't have anywhere near the birth I wanted and now I can't even nurse her?!
I do look at all 3 of my babies and feel so blessed that they're healthy, strong, beautiful, and smart. I really couldn't ask for more. Well, I did, but what good did that do? My experience was horrible and if anyone's looking for anymore reasons not to have an "elective" c/s, I've got plenty! I will regret this the rest of my life, but we're both fine and very healthy physically.
Kmom's Notes: External Version is not the only option for turning a breech baby, but it's the only one most OBs will even try (and some OBs won't even try this either). Moxibustion/acupressure, position changes (knee/chest or ironing board tilt position), special use of lights and music, cold stimulation, hypnosis, homeopathy, and a chiropractic technique called the "Webster In-Utero Constraint Technique" all have succeeded in turning breech babies, often even when External Version fails. Furthermore, the skill of the provider doing the Version is key; some doctors have extremely low success rates and cause the mother great discomfort in this procedure, while other doctors (and some midwives) have much better success rates and much more gentle approaches.
No one person or method is 100% successful in turning all breech babies, and sometimes there are physical reasons why a baby is stubbornly breech. However, it's too bad Liz did not get the opportunity to try any of the other methods that often work. Kmom has personally known the ironing board tilt to turn the breech baby of a very late-term mom similar to Liz. Also, it is Kmom's anecdotal observation that moms with strong sciatica pains often end up with malpositioned babies, and the Webster Technique can often help with both of these things. Regular chiropractic care may have helped prevent the sciatica and perhaps the malposition. There are no guarantees that any of these things would have turned Liz's baby, however, of course.
Birth Story
About two weeks before my due date, an ultrasound revealed that my once "heads-down and ready-to-go" baby had turned breech. The doctor told me my untested birth canal combined with the particular breech position of my baby made it especially dangerous to attempt vaginal delivery. However he was also leery of performing a c/s because of my age and physical condition, and he felt a vaginal birth would be easier for me.
He strongly urged me to have an External Version. This is a procedure where they try to manually turn the baby. He reminded me that a c/s was major surgery and he felt I should do everything possible to have the baby vaginally. So a week before my due date, my DH and I headed off to the hospital to try and turn our little dear. Once at the hospital, they hooked me up to monitor the baby's heartrate and my contractions, if any. A steady stream of nurses and residents came in to ask me questions, start an IV, explain the procedure to me, detail the risks associated with a version, and ask if I had any questions. They told me in the slim chance something went wrong, they could have me in the O.R. and the baby delivered within two minutes. When the doctor performing the procedure arrived, he did an extensive ultrasound and then he announced that he didn't think the version would work. He said there were several factors working against success:
He said it was unusual to try a version so late in pregnancy, but even with all these things working against us, we decided to give it a try. The doctor and two residents proceeded to push, pull, and push some more. But the baby just wasn't going to turn. After 3 tries, they gave up and sent me home with instructions to call my doctor as soon as possible if I should happen to go into labor over the weekend. The c/s would be scheduled for the next week.
It was a very long weekend---waiting for the surgery to be scheduled. I was scared of having surgery. I was scared of not having surgery. I was scared something would go wrong. I was scared of becoming a mommy. I was just downright scared! Monday afternoon my OB called and told me I should go to the hospital that night for blood work and my c/s would be in the morning. A sudden rush of adrenaline, excitement, and fear coursed through my veins. In 24 hours, I would be a mommy!
Tuesday morning, I got up, showered, packed my last couple of things, and we headed off to the hospital. DH and I were pretty quiet in the car. It felt like the air was very heavy and I didn't know what to say. Once at the hospital, I had a mini-panic. I had some bills that needed to be paid and I had forgotten to mail them. Overcome with a mixture of the fear, adrenalin, and excitement, I wouldn't let myself be checked into the hospital until I found a mailbox. I was a mad woman---running around the hospital looking for a mailbox.
Once checked in, they hooked me up to the monitors. The baby's heartbeat was strong and steady but there were no contractions. I was asked all the same questions they asked me on Friday. Another IV was hooked up. One last ultrasound was done to confirm the baby was still breech. Finally my OB and the anesthesiologist came in. They asked if I had any final questions, gave my chart the once-over and told DH to put on his scrubs. It was show time!
They had me walk from the intake/observation unit to the OB surgical suite. This was one of the longest walks of my life. The closer we got to the door that said "Authorized Personnel Only", the more my heart raced in my chest. There was no turning back. This was it! DH was told to wait outside the operating room while they started my spinal. I was taken into the cold operating room and told to hop up on the operating table. I needed some help for this maneuver because a short heavy pregnant lady doesn't hop anywhere. The spinal was the worst part of the whole thing. The anesthesiologist said I didn't have good landmarks (not something I wanted to hear), so it took him a few minutes to do the job. But once that was done, everything started to move really fast.
I was shaved and given a catheter and the incision was made. I asked when they would allow my husband to come in. With that, the doctor summoned him. I felt a little woozy from the tranquilizer they put in my IV but I was still present for the whole thing. The surgical lights were set up in such a way that I could watch the whole operation, if I wanted. It was a trip! There I was, lying there watching this surgery like I was watching the Discovery Channel and all of a sudden it hit me---"Hey, that's me up there!" So I stopped watching.
DH was a little overwhelmed by the blood. He said it was a good thing I stopped watching. He was making jokes and taking pictures to keep busy. The next thing I know the doctor says, "Here she comes. Here's your baby!" I look up to see him holding the most beautiful blonde baby girl. My OB gave her to the neonatologist to clean her up. He suctioned her out and the nurse took her footprint. They put ID tags on DH, the baby, and me. We all had bands with identical numbers and you had to show your band in order to get the baby once you left surgery.
While they were stitching me up, I couldn't take my eyes off of my little girl. The nurse wrapped her up in a blanket and brought her over to me. They put her across my chest and I just kept staring at her and crying. I had a little girl. My baby was here and I loved her more than I dreamed possible. All the fear, pain, and 9 months of petty annoyances were well worth it. I would have walked across hot coals for that moment with my beautiful baby.
Sherie's Story (PCOS, hypertension, PROM, induction, compound presentation, c/s)
Kmom's Notes: A short cord and baby's hand by the head
could definitely cause a long hard labor.
Birth Story:
At about 3 in the afternoon, at 37 weeks along in my first pregnancy, I started spotting. I had never had spotting or had any kind of bleeding at all during the whole pregnancy. I knew that this was most likely the mucous plug and some blood caused by the cervix beginning to dilate. I had no contractions and thought it would most likely be awhile before labor started. I went to take a shower during the shower my water broke! I called my husband to come home from work, we ate a light dinner and about 5:30 we went to the hospital.
My contractions were 2-3 minutes apart and I was dilated to a 3cm when I was checked shortly after I arrived. They put external monitors on me to track the contractions and the baby's heartbeat. The baby was moving around so much that we couldn't keep track of the heartbeat and they inserted a internal scalp electrode. They told me that I needed to be dilated to 6cm before they would give me an epidural. They said if given to early it could slow down labor. About 9 pm I was checked and had dilated to 4cm. I was having extreme pain and the nurse gave me
Stadol. After that wore off I was checked again at about 12am and was still a 4cm. The nurse had me go get into a warm water bath to try to relax. I got ice chips and more
Stadol. At 4am I was checked and was 5cm. I had nausea and threw up twice. I sat and rocked, I couldn't walk because of the extreme pain of the contractions and the nausea. My doctor came to check me at 7am and I was still 5 cm. At 9am my doctor said I could get the epidural, I was 5cm.
I had contractions all day and threw up 3 more times. I was given pitocin about 2pm because my contractions had slowed way down. At 6pm I had dilated to 7 cm and was exhausted. My doctor wanted to do a c-section because the water had been broken for more than 24 hours, I was exhausted and wasn't progressing despite the pitocin and my epidural wasn't working any longer also the baby's heartbeat showed he was stressed and needed to come out. I was so tired that I snored during the c-section, I could hardly keep my eyes open and when they showed me my baby I was so out of it I could hardly even look at him. He didn't cry much and he was so small, he didn't look like I thought he would. My husband wasn't allowed in the surgery because it was an emergency. They let my husband hold him a few minutes after he was born.
Later I found out that I had 4 large fibroids and the cord was unusually short. Also my baby had his hand up by his head and had a bruise under his eye were his hand had been. I was just glad it was over and that my baby was healthy and doing well. He had apgar scores of 7 and 9.
It was disappointing to have the c-section. It took some time to accept and come to terms with those feelings.
Danielle's Stories (elective c/s for breech, TOL c/s due to malposition)
Kmom's Notes: This mom had her hospital dispute her due date. They changed it to 3 weeks earlier than it was supposed to be. The mother and her husband are both tall, so the baby probably was bigger than average. But because ultrasound dating is based on averages, her baby's larger size made it look like the baby 'should have' been due earlier.
This had strong consequences for the mother and the baby; baby was still breech (as some still are at that point) but might have turned on its own before the due date (as many do). However, because they thought the pregnancy was farther along, they did an elective c/s for 'breech', and it turned out that it was done almost a month early. Elective c/s on its own is a risk factor for breathing problems; elective c/s plus prematurity is an even stronger risk for breathing problems. It also often impacts a baby's ability to suck effectively; it is not easy to preserve breastfeeding in the face of prematurity. Between the elective c/s, prematurity, and uncooperative nurses who kept giving the baby bottles, they were not able to preserve breastfeeding. Moral of the story: Don't allow a change of due date based on a late pregnancy ultrasound. They tend to be quite inaccurate for the purpose of either dating or estimating the baby's size.
In her second pregnancy, she wanted a VBAC. However, they induced her, which strongly reduces the chances for a VBAC. Plus her baby was large and posterior, which often makes a vaginal birth difficult. Once again, the mother is told that a 'small pelvis' is the problem when it really was a malposition problem.
Birth Story
Baby #1 (Alyssa): I was 7.5 months pregnant when I arrived from overseas to have our baby at home in New Zealand. Seeing as it was so late in my pregnancy it was hard to find a midwife, but we ended up finding one, who went halves in our care along with a local hospital. The hospital decided to do their own testing, and after yet another ultrasound they came to the conclusion that our baby was due on the 23rd of November even though my last menstrual cycle and doctors in Australia told us our baby was due around the 16th of December. Being our first pregnancy, we decided the hospital must be right and we continued with our near perfect pregnancy.
At 8.5 months it turned out our daughter was still breech; in fact the specialist said he could not turn her manually because she had descended down feet-first into my pelvis. I had an x-ray of my pelvis and another ultrasound which all concluded that she should be able to fit through (after 6 ultrasounds showing a girl, we figured that she would be a girl!). My husband (boyfriend at the time) and I talked about what we thought was best. We decided to do what we thought would be best for the baby, and having a breech vaginal birth worried me. I was scared that I would go into labour, my waters would break, and her feet would pop out. We decided the only way to ensure our baby was out safely was to have a cesarean. To me, having our baby safely was the most important thing; the caesarean itself was not a problem. I don't believe a baby has to be delivered vaginally to be a 'perfect' baby. At our next antenatal visit we told the nurse of our decision.
Wednesday the 13th of November at 8 a.m. was the date of our little baby's birth. It was a weird feeling knowing what day and at what time your baby's birthday will be. Wednesday came around slowly, each day counting down to the day our lives would change forever. Finally, we could meet our little daughter. We got up early, had a shower, took a quick photo of me outside, and walked to the hospital. A most unusual labour.
We arrived early, we were taken to a waiting room where we waited for our midwife to arrive; she arrived on time. We all waited and waited and waited. Finally a nurse came and asked me to lie on the bed in the lovely gown, where I had my temperature taken, and had my blood pressure recorded. I then had 2 nurses and a doctor attempt to insert an IV drip in my wrist. When all else failed a specialist finally managed to insert it in my hand. My husband put on the green scrubs. Then I was wheeled into the operating room. We were told before how everything worked, and were told again. So we left ourselves in the hands of the unlimited amounts of people present for our baby's birth. There were doctors, nurses, nurse's nurses, specialists, students, and somewhere in the middle was our midwife, me, my boyfriend, and my bulging belly.
I was moved onto a thin table, assured I was not going to fall off, rolled onto my side, and the spinal block was inserted into my spine. I was rolled onto my back to wait for the fluid to spread. After 10 minutes I could still feel my left hand side, so another spinal block was given. After another 5 minutes I was numb up to armpits, a catheter was inserted, a mast was put over my face to ensure the baby got enough oxygen. 5 minutes later, our beautiful baby was born at 10.15 a.m., weighing 3400g (7 lbs, 8 oz). The first thing I remember thinking the first time I saw her was, "She's not ugly, she is beautiful." I had an impression that all newborns were scrawny little shrivelled up half-prunes, half-alien-looking things with funny-shaped heads. But she was far from ugly.
We were wheeled off into a room to await our hospital stay. Things were going really well until that night. She had problems breastfeeding. And the night nurses had problems hearing me say no. She stopped breathing and nurses rushed in and told me she had mucus on her lungs. they informed me the only way they could get rid of the mucus was "to give her a bottle of formula." This I could not understand. I asked them if they could put my breastmilk in a bottle and they said no. I then protested, saying I didn't want them to give her a bottle of formula, and they said in the most degrading and horrible way, "If you want to kill her, it is up to you." I could not understand how giving her my breastmilk would kill her. I let them feed her formula, and the nurse sat in the corner of the room feeding her her first decent meal since her birth (of formula) without saying a word to me or letting me feed her the formula myself.
My husband arrived later that morning to find me crying. I felt like a failure because I could not feed our baby. I told him what the nurse had said and he ran off and rung our midwife. She arrived at the hospital less than half an hour later and blew up the nurses. She told them that this was supposed to be a baby-friendly hospital and that they are not meant to be so eager to feed babies formula unless the mum and dad want them to.
Later that night, the baby woke hungry. I tried for more than hour to feed her by myself, but she just would not latch on. I rang the bell finally but no one came, so I rang it again---still no answer. Finally after 2 more rings, the same nurse as the night before appeared and asked me what I wanted. I asked her to help me latch her on, and she said (and I quote), "Oh no, I can't do that. I'll have to call your midwife." I said, "No, I don't need my midwife. I just need some help latching her on." She replied, "Your midwife has stated quite clearly that I am to ring her if there are any problems at all." (My midwife had written at the top of my page, 'No formula or bottle, please call me if needed." So the nurse went off and called my midwife at 2 in the morning.
I went home the next day, after 2 nights in the hospital (4 nights early). That's very early after a c/s. The stress of having one more night in that hospital with that nurse was overpowering. Things did improve at home, but our daughter never breastfed. After trying for 9 weeks of pumps, syringes, bottles, sterilizing, breast shells, shields, and crying, we decided to give up and the postnatal depression I'd had disappeared when I saw her weight go up.
Oh yes, it turned out we were right---she was 3 weeks early at birth [Kmom note: At least!]. Because my husband is 6 ft. 4 and I am 5 ft. 11 all the ultrasounds showed her to be bigger and taller than she was. I don't regret the c/s but I do regret having her early because I now can't help thinking if we waited, she would probably have turned, and I would have had a 'normal' birth and not had such troubles breastfeeding.
It turns out now that nurse has been fired; I was not the first or the last person she degraded. She was rude to all first mums, especially those under 20 years old and unmarried (as we were---I was 18), and those overweight (thought I'd love to weigh that again!). It is sad to think just one person can make what should be such an exciting time into a stressful, demoralizing experience.
I hope this helps other people to stand up for what they believe and realize that just because someone has a piece of paper it does not make them right.
Baby #2 (Zach): I had an uneventful pregnancy, except for a lot of stress due to my husband leaving me when I was 5 months pregnant. Up to that stage I had put on very little weight, but between 5 months and 9 months, I had put on over 45 pounds (yes, it can be done!)
I was induced 12 days past my due date. I was trying for a VBAC. My mother and I turned up at 8 a.m. We sat around for what seemed like ages, and eventually the gel was inserted at 10 a.m. At 8 p.m. that night, still nothing, not even one measly little centimeter. I had had a few contractions but nothing much. They didn't show up on the monitor so I was given more gel. At 10:30 p.m. still nothing showed up on the monitor, even though I was having a lot of pain in my stomach. They said it was not proper contractions; if they were not proper contractions, I don't want to know what real ones felt like! So I gave up and had some pethidine and slept the night at the hospital. The next morning I went back down to the labour ward, was given an internal, and I had dilated 4 cms while I was asleep. But my midwife felt something on the baby's head. The OB/specialist was not sure if it was the umbilical cord or a finger, so I was sent for a scan. By the time I got there everything was okay. No sign of any cord or finger. He was estimated at 9 pounds, 11 oz. (we already knew the sex).
At 9 a.m. the waters were broken and more gel was inserted. At 1 p.m. I was still only 4 cms dilated and in a great deal of pain. But these were not considered to be 'proper' contractions, as they hardly showed on the monitor. They were felt across my c/s scar. [Kmom: This automatically raises the possibility of rupture in people's minds, especially during an induction. Usually, this pain is simply from adhesions from the old scar, but of course it's impossible to confirm that, which is an uneasy thing. In this case, there was no rupture, so it probably was adhesions.]
My midwife and I were not happy with my progress (or lack thereof). So for many reasons we decided on a c/s. Those reasons included failure to dilate, large baby, pain felt across old scar, and baby's heart rate dropping with each contraction. [Kmom note: Here's suspicion of malposition again---stalled at 4 cm, painful labor, no progress, and fetal distress. Also, they felt something was strange about the baby's head---probably the fontanel/sutures being in the wrong place because baby was posterior!]
So I was prepped for surgery. We arrived (my mum went in with me) at the operating theatre at about 2 p.m. A spinal (but only one this time) was inserted and at 2:12 p.m. my beautiful baby son was delivered weighing 10 lbs. 11 oz. He was 65 cms long with red hair and dark blue eyes, with a huge head measuring 40.5 cms (16 inches).
It turns out he was posterior and his head was too large to fit through my pelvis (apparently, even with my huge 5 ft. 11 frame and large bone structure, I have a small tilted pelvis! Typical). [Kmom note: a 16 inch head is larger than usual, as is a 10 and a half pound baby, BUT that doesn't mean the baby couldn't fit. The key here is the fact that the baby was posterior; a posterior baby presents with a much larger head diameter than one who is anterior and correctly lined up. So if this baby had been turned correctly, it might well have fit through. It certainly does NOT mean she has a small pelvis, or even a 'tilted' one.]
After 4 days in the hospital I went home and put all my baby clothes into bags and put them in the garage. My little baby was nothing like a baby---he was the size my daughter was when she was 3 months old! I didn't get a baby, I got a 3-month-old! Zach is now 2.5. He's huge---the size of an average 4 year-old. He is over 100 cms tall. His big sister is even bigger, standing at a whopping 120 cms for a 4.5 year-old. I'm getting used to the fact that these two wonderful children of mine will always be bigger for their ages.
Julie2's Story (induction, 2 c/s for macrosomia)
Birth Story
My whole pregnancy I was measuring average for each week, I ate right
and worked up till the ninth month. At my 40 week appointment my doctor thought the baby was about 7.5 lbs and since I had no
dilation or effacement she tried to soften my cervix, the next morning I went in
to be checked and I was still 0 cm, 0 % effaced and my daughter was floating. The doctor decided to induce me to get things going, we show
up at the hospital at 10 a.m. and they start the pitocin.
By 4:00 p.m. that afternoon my dr. came in to check me and I had NO CHANGE!! That night I was very discouraged I walked around the hospital, rocked and went on the birthing ball, the next morning at 6:00 a.m I was checked and still no change, I was quite upset with this news! After another long day on pitocin at 4:00 the resident dr, came in to check on me, I was the only one in labor and delivery so he stopped in to say hi, when he checked my stomach he thought the baby was a little larger then previously thought. He sent me down to ultrasound, still hooked up to pitocin mind you!, and she measured 13 lbs 4 oz on the ultrasound.
Needless to say he contacted my dr. who then ordered the pitocin to stop. They scheduled me for a c-section the following morning and at 8:20 Molly made her way into the world, weighing 10lbs, 11 oz and was 22 inches long. I just grow them large, must be all the peanut butter I eat!
3 weeks from now I will deliver my son planned c-sec, on the ultrasounds he was measuring 8 lbs at 35 weeks, so I am sure he will be a big healthy boy like his sister was. In case anyone is wondering I did not have gestational diabetes, in fact I have low blood sugar. Everyone assumes because I had a big baby that I must have had something wrong with me, but it honestly was just the protein I ate while pregnant!
Adele's Story (PROM, induction, c/s)
Kmom's Notes: It would be interesting to know if this baby was malpositioned. Having the waters break ahead of time, having little progress despite hours of active labor (even with pitocin), getting 'stuck' between 4-7 cm, and the baby staying up high and never engaging are often signs of a baby that is malpositioned. The baby was undoubtedly head-down, but may have been facing the wrong way (sunny-side-up/posterior), with its head tilted to the side (asynclitic), or with its hand/arm beside its head (compound). At this point there is no way to know for sure, but the pattern seems to be consistent with many malposition stories.
It's also not uncommon for women who have been through an induction and c/s to have their milk come in relatively late (this happened with Kmom's first baby too--she can relate!). It's unclear whether this is due to the anti-diuretic effects of pitocin (it tends to make you retain water in your tissues) or the effect of the cesarean (many c/s moms have their milk come in a bit later than normal). It may also be influenced by a tendency for cesarean babies to get more bottles and formula than babies born normally, and for nursing access to be delayed.
Breastmilk supply is very contingent on supply and demand; it works best when babies are nursed shortly after birth and very frequently thereafter. When babies are given lots of bottles and pacifiers, the 'demand' is much lower and the body tends to respond by producing less. Fortunately, however, in this case the mom was encouraged to pump a lot, which probably helped preserve their breastfeeding possibilities. Many moms in this situation are not given breastpumps or any instructions/encouragement.
Birth Story
First of all, I have to say that I had a wonderful and very caring doctor that I wouldn't trade for the world. When I went in for my first appointment I asked him about my weight and he said that it probably wouldn't be a problem and I had a few more risk factors than an average-sized person, but he'd keep a close eye on me and expected that I would do fine. I asked him about a c-section because my very skinny sister had to have all 3 of her children by c-section and he said that he expected I would do fine and delivery vaginally. After this first appointment I don't think we ever talked about my weight again!
When my blood pressure went up towards the end of my pregnancy he wasn't surprised because the same thing happened to that very skinny sister of mine and he said these things sometimes run in families. He ordered the non-stress tests 2 times a week until I delivered just to be sure the baby was okay. Besides it being a pain to go to the hospital 2x a week it was no big deal.
So, my water broke 4 days before my due date with NO labor pains whatsoever. So my doctor check me into the hospital and they induced my labor. Long story short, after 15 hours of active labor I only dilated to 4 and the baby still hadn't dropped down. So Dr. A said, "Let's do a c-section," and all I felt was complete and total relief! Dr. A was my sister's doctor also and she had the exact same problem with her deliveries which is why she always had to have c-sections, so he said it was very well something hereditary and had little to do with my weight.
So my son was delivered by c/s weighing 10 lbs, 7.5 oz. Very big baby--we all have big babies in my family so this wasn't surprising either. Because my son was so big some of the nurses at the hospital said I must have had GD and the doctor didn't catch it, but I asked Dr. A about this and he said he tested me for it 3 times and it was never a problem and I just had a really big baby. My sister's babies were all 10 lbs. too.
My milk didn't come in and because my son was such a big baby they had to test his blood sugar and that was all wacky so we fought that for a whole week. We had to give him formula until my milk came in which was 5 days later with me pumping like a crazy woman. After 2 days my son also developed pneumonia for some reason. He came out of it fine, but it was very stressful especially with the blood sugar problems and me not getting my milk in for so long. But we got to come home after 7 days and after that it was fine.
All in all, I had a positive experience. I did have a few nurses say things about my weight, but all in all they were very nice and by the time I got to that point I didn't care what they thought anyway! I think having a caring doctor is the biggest comfort because you can check everything out with him so you don't care what they think! It helped with my sister having the same doctor because he knew what problems she had as well and we knew it had NOTHING to do with her weight because she's so darn thin! :-) I think that helped a lot. I am having another baby soon and we are planning another c/s; I am glad and relieved. I just hope and pray my milk will come in at a timely fashion and we don't have any other complications. I hope the same for all of you.
Ellen's Story (induction, c/s)
Kmom's Notes: This mom was induced at 10 days past her 'due date'. This is very common practice now, but many childbirth advocates have criticized this policy of mandatory induction at or before 41-42 weeks. Research shows that first-time moms NORMALLY go about 8 days past due date on average, so this was not really 'overdue' in that sense. Doctors are concerned that once 42 weeks has passed, the rate of problems does rise, but even so, most women go 'past term' with no problems. In other words the risk, although increased, does not mean that all or even most would experience problems if 42 weeks is exceeded. And induction introduces its own risks.
It becomes a real judgment call as to what the best protocol should be when women near or go past 42 weeks, but some women just go longer and have no problems doing so. In particular, women with long menstrual cycles tend to go longer and should probably have their due dates moved back to reflect their longer cycles and later ovulation dates. Other women simply seem to "cook 'em longer." But it's not an easy decision to know what to do, and one must balance the risk of going post term with the risk of induction and all its interventions.
Induction for a first-time mom results in high cesarean rates. Induction on an unripe cervix also results in high cesarean rates. In addition, this mom's lack of response to induction may have meant that her baby was younger than they thought (note baby's trouble latching on to nurse), or that the baby was in the wrong position for birth and needed to shift to go into labor. Or perhaps her mom just tends to have longer pregnancies than the norm. Serial induction might have helped this mom (trying, then stopping and coming back several days later), as this often jumpstarts the body's own production of labor hormones. However, by forcing the issue 4 days in a row, the mom was exhausted and more than happy to agree to an elective cesarean.
Birth Story
Like most mums-to-be, I had planned for the perfect natural delivery with no pain relief if I could help it. At 34 weeks it was suspected that my baby was breech so I was referred to a consultant to check this. She was not but it made me realize that I may not have such a perfect delivery. I thought about my choices if I had a c/s and decided that I would want to stake awake so that my husband could be there.
We had always assumed our daughter would be born early but when 40 weeks had passed I began to think that I would have to have her induced. Sure enough, I was admitted to the antenatal ward once I had gone 10 days over my due date. I was induced with prostin [prostaglandin gel] that day, which was awful. The next day I had not dilated so I was induced again twice and on the 3rd day, I was induced a fourth time, having still not dilated. I had no Braxton-Hicks contractions or anything.
By this stage it was becoming obvious that this baby did not want to be born so the consultant said if I had not dilated by the next day there would be a decision to make--more prostin or a c/s. I think my facial expression must have given it away that I didn't want to be induced again, as that afternoon I was informed that I'd been booked in for a c/s and that I'd either have my waters broken if I had dilated or have a c/s the next day. I couldn't believe I was finally going to get my baby.
The next morning the midwives prepared me for a c/s. I preferred the thought of this to having my waters broken and I was happy about the way my baby was to be born. I didn't feel scared at all--just excited. When I was taken into the operating theatre the anesthetist tried to put the spinal block in--I didn't understand a word she was saying, though, and I got quite upset as it just wouldn't go in. After 45 minutes on the final attempt it went in---phew!!!
My husband was brought into the room and the operation started. I heard one of the surgeons comment on the baby's nose, and a few minutes later I heard a loud scream. "It's not even half way out yet," the surgeon said. A few minutes later our daughter was brought over to us, then rushed off to a machine for the mucus to be cleared out. [Kmom note: This is one of the risks of elective cesarean---more breathing problems and trouble getting rid of the mucus at times.] She had her vitamin K injection. She was then taken to the ward with Daddy and I was sewn up and sent to recovery. This was hard after not being able to eat as it was right next to the kitchen. And it was so hard being away from my baby but I was just happy I had the girl I wanted and that Daddy could be there for her.
As for recovery I was up the next day, although I hadn't been given any pain killers that day and so it really hurt. But once they began to kick in I felt much better. I was worried about the stitches coming out but it didn't hurt at all and in a couple of weeks I was starting to get back to normal again. There were some negative aspects like not being given pain killers in time, struggling to breastfeed, etc., although I was kept well-informed with what was going on. But I look back at her delivery as being perfect. I had no problems bonding with her at all.
She's 16 months now and one active, healthy girl. I think I was at an advantage with having an elective c/s instead of an emergency one but I think the best thing to do is just stay focused on the fact that even though things haven't gone as planned you're going to get your beautiful baby. Breastfeeding was hard because she just wouldn't latch on---the midwives were really supportive and they gave her cup feeds of formula milk instead of a bottle when things got desperate. I did decide to change to bottle feeding after a few days but I feel that I was given a lot of help and that the midwives had done all they could.
Heather2's Story (classical c/s, incision infection)
Kmom's Notes: Another case that may possibly be a malposition; the mother had little dilation but lots of prodromal labor. Labor stalled at 4-5 despite pitocin, a common problem seen with malpositions. The mom was admitted still in early or latent labor; instead of sending her home to rest and see if she progressed, they admitted her and forced the issue with pitocin and an early epidural. Apparently no attempt was made to see if baby was malpositioned or to try and help labor along in any way except with drugs.
Because of her size, the mother was given a vertical incision, although this is highly questionable. A few old-school doctors still feel that vertical incisions will infect less and are better for fat women. This does not seem borne out by experience or research, yet some large women are still being forced to have these incisions, which are more risky for the mom and for any future pregnancies she might have. Certainly, a vertical incision did not prevent infection in this mom! She experienced significant trouble with her incision, something a number of fat women with vertical incisions report.
She also experienced the surgery without full anesthesia, something Kmom has also experienced. This is a major trauma and can result in Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder or long-lasting fears for any future births or surgeries. There are organizations now to deal with "Surgical Awareness" during other types of surgery with general anesthesia, but VERY little information or acknowledgement is available when this occurs during a cesarean with an epidural. In fact, hospital staff members rarely believe it and generally gloss over it afterwards. Although regional anesthesia is indeed more difficult in larger women, this problem does not occur because of size, since many very large women have had epidurals that have worked just fine, and many skinny women have experienced epidural failure during surgery as well.
Finally, to add insult to injury, her milk never came in. This could have come from many causes. Women with inductions then cesareans, as noted before, tend to have more breastfeeding problems in general. Blood loss during surgery could have been the problem (through anemia), or the drugs given during surgery, or the lack of access to the baby (she didn't get the baby until the next day, presumably after multiple bottle feedings). The treatment for infection afterwards may also have impacted frequency of nursing, or it's possible that the treatment or drugs may have impacted nursing as well.
Birth Story
After an uneventful pregnancy (beside Group B Strep), I thought I would have an uneventful delivery too. Boy, was I wrong. I had been having contractions at about 10 minutes apart for 2 days when I finally got to L&D. I wasn't in a hurry to get there, as I had been long and closed with no dilation 2 days earlier. When I was admitted, I was 80% effaced and 2-3 cm dilated and the contractions were spreading out and becoming milder.
My doctor wasn't the one on call (it was a Saturday) and I wasn't too thrilled with the one who was. She started me on pitocin to get the contractions going and I was pretty much forced into an epidural at 2-3 cm before I wanted it. 12 hours later I was 90% effaced and 4-5 cm. The contractions only picked up a little bit and I was beginning to wonder if she was going to leave me lying there with no progress forever. She finally decided to take me back for a c-section and I was happy we were going to get this over with.
They got me back in the OR and got the epidural kicked up (it had worn off an hour earlier). No sooner did they get that going and she made the first cut. She never checked to make sure I was numb or anything. It felt like fire cutting through me and the woman did not believe me when I told her I was feeling that. She said it was just pressure. HA! My whole abdomen felt like it was on fire and my guts were being ripped out. When she pulled him out I screamed it hurt so bad. After that she finally said, "I think she has more feeling than she should." I wanted to slap her. I heard him cry and then I saw the mask. The next thing I remember is them pulling me from the OR table to the bed and the nurse pushing down on my stomach. After a double dose of Demerol, I was out until the next morning.
The pain was tolerable. I wanted to get up and move around as soon as possible, so I lost the Morphine drip and off I went. I went home the next day and things were going well-----until 5 days later. I was hurting so bad I walked like the hunchback of Notre Dame. I was oozing lots of light red watery stuff from my incision. Off to the ER I go and have to be admitted for IV antibiotics to help the massive infection in my incision.
My incision is up and down due to my weight, the DR says. For a month and a half I had to have a home health care nurse come in and pack the huge hole that was in my stomach. The infection was so bad, it wouldn't heal. Now, 3 months later, I still have a small hole that will never close because of where it is located. Now I am told that if I had the horizontal incision, the infection wouldn't have been so severe, and that my weight shouldn't have had anything to do with what direction the incision went.
It has been a long road, but I am finally healed and have the prettiest little boy in the world.
Sandra's Story (HELLP syndrome, low amniotic fluid, pre-term c/s)
Kmom's Notes: HELLP syndrome is an extremely serious problem. HELLP stands for Hemolysis, Elevated Liver enzymes, and Low Platelet count. (Hemolysis is the breakdown of red blood cells, and platelets are the blood cells involved in blood clotting.) HELLP syndrome indicates liver and blood complications.
Birth Story
This was a difficult pregnancy from day one. I suffered from 'morning sickness' the entire time (also known as hyper emesis) and we found out at 20 weeks that my amniotic fluid was low. The doctor was concerned the baby wouldn't grow properly. I had to drop to part-time work status to try to increase it. The week of Xmas I was at 30 weeks (due date was March 1st) and started swelling bad. I knew swelling was common in pregnancy so didn't think much of it. At my next few weekly ob/gyn visits my blood pressure was steadily increasing, protein was spilling in my urine, and I started gaining weight after no gain for the first 30 weeks. They started monitoring me closely because I was showing classic symptoms of pre-eclampsia (which is a pregnancy-induced disease). When a woman gets pre-eclampsia her body becomes 'allergic' to the baby inside of her and it starts shutting down the mom's major organs.
We spent the next couple of weeks seeing different doctors with different opinions on what was happening with me. We visited labor and delivery several times for monitoring because of my symptoms. Because my blood work kept coming back normal they didn't officially diagnose me with pre-eclampsia. Finally on Jan. 12th the doctor we saw informed us that we would be delivering within a week and sent us to labor and delivery. As you can imagine we were in shock. We were only 33 weeks along. I was given a Celestone steroid shot that day to help develop the baby's lungs. I had to get the second shot the next day and it didn't take effect for 36 hours from then. We prayed I could hold out that long but my symptoms were getting worse. I believed I could hold out for a couple of weeks with close monitoring but it wasn't meant to be.
On Wed. the 17th we went in for a nonstress test and an OB visit. My blood pressure was up 189/97. They sent me straight to labor and delivery. I stayed all day hooked up to the monitors and was told they were admitting me for overnight observation. That evening a doctor came in and did an ultrasound to check the fluid and it was so low (it was at 3, and 5-17 is normal but they want it over 10) and my blood pressure was so high that it was decided that I would need to give birth right away.
An IV was put in (after 4 painful attempts) and I was put on magnesium sulfate (which turned out to be a terrible poison) to prevent seizures caused by pre-eclampsia. It made me VERY sick. I had to be transferred to a high-risk hospital with a NICU 35 miles away. Once we got there and got in my room I got very sick and blacked out. It scared the HELL out of me. They wanted to give me a few hours to rest before they induced me. My mom and husband were with me and we all tried to rest for a few hours before they started pitocin.
They took more blood and started pitocin around 5:30 a.m. I contracted for about 3 hours and they checked me. I hadn't dilated at all. They kept turning up the pitocin. My dad arrived around 11:30 right as contractions were getting more painful. My blood work started coming back showing my liver was shutting down and my platelets were very low. I was diagnosed with HELLP syndrome. I was very sick!!!
About 4:00 I was checked again and still hadn't dilated at all after close to 11 hours of contractions without pain medication!!! I was so frustrated, sick and exhausted I almost cried. The anesthesiologist came in and said he wanted to place an epidural but my platelet count was so bad and if it was any worse he couldn't use an epidural. They did STAT blood work and I was okayed for an epidural. They made my parents and husband leave the room regardless of my protests. During the placement, I was feeling very faint and as soon as he finished I blacked out again. My blood pressure went very low and they had to pump me full of epinephrine to raise it. My baby had shown no signs of distress until then. His heart rate dropped too low and as I came to I was told we were heading in for a c-section. I was prepped immediately for surgery.
It was scary in the O.R. Once they made the initial incision they allowed my husband in. He sat by my head and talked to me and I was okay (but I kept throwing up). Ryan came out crying and didn't stop for at least 20 minutes. It was the most beautiful sound I ever heard. My husband stayed with the baby as we had agreed. Once he and Ryan left the O.R. (I got to kiss Ryan first) I started to panic. I tried to run but my legs wouldn't move. My memory of the surgery is all round yucky. My mom came in and sat with me during recovery.
My son was born on Jan. 18th at 4:46 p.m. I was 34 weeks pregnant that day. He weighed 3 lbs., 8 oz. and was 16.5 inches long. He had quite a bit of strawberry blonde hair. He was given oxygen right away but looked good. His apgars were 8 and 9!!!! My mom and dad and husband all got to see him and touch him but not hold him. I didn't get to see him until the next afternoon.
The first night was difficult. I was put in a shared room so no one could stay with me and my roomie had her baby in with her. I was trying to recover from surgery, magnesium sulfate, and deal with not having my baby all alone. The next day around 3 p.m. I was taken to the NICU to see him and I got to hold him for the first time. He was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Sure he was a preemie and kind of funny-looking, but all I could see was how beautiful he was. I spent 6 days in the hospital and visited him often. My husband stayed with me every night after the first (they moved me to a private room). Leaving the hospital without my baby on Monday was the hardest thing I ever did.
In the weeks since his birth we have been under an amazing amount of stress but we're hanging in there. I'm pumping breastmilk every 3 hours but not producing enough for all of his feedings. They say stress will do that. We visit him every day and every time I leave it hurts. He is doing amazingly well. He was only given help breathing the first night. He had an IV for several days but it came off within the first week. He is learning to suck and has been given some of his meals by bottle. He tried to breastfeed for the first time today. He latched on and sucked a little but not hard enough. The doctors are calling him a "feeder and grower" which means he needs to learn to suck, gain weight, and learn to regulate his body temperature and then he can come home. They are guessing another 2 weeks but it could be sooner. We can't wait. I love him more than I thought imaginable. He is our little miracle boy.
He came home on February 5th after 18 days in the NICU. He weighed 4 lbs. 4 oz. He eats every 2 hours. His parents are exhausted but thrilled to have him home!!!! As terrible as my pregnancy and delivery was I don't regret a single minute of it. I got a beautiful angel out of all that suffering!!!
Nick's Mom's Story (low fluid levels, induction, difficult c/s)
Kmom's Notes: It is controversial how best to manage a pregnancy with low amniotic fluid levels near the end of pregnancy; low fluid levels may simply reflect a need for more hydration from the mom or it may be an indication of incipient problems. This induction may or may not have been necessary, but the doctors felt that they didn't want to 'take a chance' given this couple's long and difficult journey to parenthood. The long, non-progressive labor suggests a subtle malposition of the baby; the mother reports that they later discovered he had his hand by his head (compound position). She also had to endure some size-phobic treatment by some of the other doctors who consulted on her case This mom did a wonderful job of coping with a very difficult situation.
Note: There are cuss words in this birth story; if you are offended by this, you may want to skip to the next story.
Birth Story
On a Monday, we had a NST (Non-Stress Test) to check on Nicholas and how he was doing. My OB was concerned because his fluid levels had dropped from 12.3 the week before to 7.3 on Monday. So he checked my cervix; not much effacement and certainly no dilation (and after all those trips to the hospital for premature labor!!). However, he still felt strongly about inducing; he didn't want to take any chances after coming this far as we worked so hard getting pregnant, keeping this pregnancy, and staying healthy. So I assumed he meant, "Let's induce in a week." He said, "No, tomorrow at Noon." I wasn't prepared. DH and I were holding hands during this entire meeting. I was frankly scared to death. This was NOT how I envisioned having my baby. So my OB talked to me about all the risks of induction, and that it meant I might have to have a c-section etc., and the risks that go with that. Then they sent us home.
I got home and had a meltdown. I really needed to do that. Once that was done, I realized there was much to do to tie up loose ends both at work and personally, so I did all that. I needed to spend time with DH as I had an "Oh Shit" moment, realizing that we would not be just 'us' anymore. The next time we walked back into the house we'd be a family. It was scary and fun at the same time to think about that. DH was restless, as I was also that night. We went to dinner to talk about things.
Both of us were not comfortable with the ultrasound at the NST for various reasons. We didn't know the tech, she didn't know us, the machine was different, and we wanted a second opinion. As anxious as I was to have this child, I didn't want to rush things that didn't need to be rushed. I knew the ramifications of being induced, being a doula. So the next morning we got up, showered, loaded the car, and headed to the hospital. We got there early and headed to our Perinatologist's office to talk to him. He fit us in right away and listened to us. He then called up my high-risk OB and we conferenced. We just stated that we wanted a second opinion, period. So they did another ultrasound, with the same machine that we had been using for 8 months and with the same tech (who knew my body and who we trusted). The results were a bit better but the perinatologist was still concerned. We talked about the risk of just waiting it out. He said that with less fluid, the cord has the chance of compressing and that could mean a bad outcome for our baby. We didn't want that at all, so we went ahead with the induction.
So we checked into our room and discussed the induction plan. They inserted 25 mcg of misoprostol (Cytotec) in my cervix. They left us to our own devices, let me eat, and we got settled in. There was no progress in 3 hours, so I walked, rocked, danced, etc. 3 hours later, still no progress, so we got another dose of misoprostol. 6 hours later, still no progress so they wanted to start Pitocin. I said, "No, I don't think so---I know that pitocin on a cervix that isn't effaced is a disaster, I want to wait some more." So we waited another 4 hours, still no progress, so I consented to one more dose of misoprostol. We left it in overnight, and I awoke to annoying contractions. I thought, "Thank God, something's happening!" So I was checked and I had effaced to 80% but no dilation.
So my peri came in and said, "Let's insert a catheter in your cervix and insert a balloon. We will start labor on its own that way without pitocin and let labor go on its own there, you have enough misoprostol in your system. I asked about pain management then, as I knew this would be uncomfortable. My peri said, "It's not as bad as your lamanaria." Well, bullshit, it was horrible to say the least! No anesthetic, and it took a half hour to get in there, and contractions started whammo! The idea is that when the balloon and catheter fall out, you are at 3-4 cm, labor progresses, you go to complete, you push, you have your baby. Well, this didn't work like it was supposed to. I got to 2 cm dilated and my water broke, so the catheter had to come out and the clock for infection was started. Pitocin was started.
The contractions then were horrible. By now it's Wednesday, I am tired already, and it's midafternoon. They don't want to check me tons as my bag of water is broken and we don't want infection. I am now running a fever so they check me and I am between 3-4 cm dilated, cervix is still 80% effaced. They start me on antibiotics, check me for Strep B (I am negative). I ask for Fentanyl and get it. This drug sucks, it doesn't help take any edge off, it just makes me feel out of control and it doesn't let me focus or keep on track. My contractions are big and powerful; 3-4 minutes apart, and 2 minutes long with double peaks. I am now sitting on birth balls, rocking chairs, and laboring on the toilet. The entire time, DH has not left my side, has breathed with me, and the support he has given me is phenomenal. During one of the contractions, he tells me, "I do NOT see how any woman could do this without the help of a doula---I wish we had two here. This is so hard, I now know what you do, and you must be really good at this as I feel like a dork." I smiled at him, and don't think I could have loved him any more. He kept apologizing to me regarding the pain I was going through, and I said, "This is a labor of love."
My contractions Wed. night have changed. I think for sure that progress has been made, I am now shaking and have this overwhelming urge to push. I go to the toilet and have tons of loose stool, and I still need to push. So I call the nurse (this is where the parade of doctors comes in). This on-call doc checks me and says, "You are still 3-4, let's turn your pit up." I said, "No, you don't! My contractions are 3-4 minutes apart as it is, with 2 minute-long contractions---do you want to blow up my uterus?" So he goes to consult with my peri, who says, "We need to get them more powerful, why don't you have an epidural now?" So I am thinking, "Okay, epidural is one step closer to a section. Shit, what do I do, I am so tired." So finally after talking to DH, I know I need to sleep. I have been at this now over 36 hours, and so I say, "OK, let's do it," thinking this will take away my pain and I can sleep.
The epidural goes in smoothly---all this bullshit about fat women who have a hard time having them inserted is crap. Now if they take, that's another story. Mine didn't take. It numbed me from under my breasts down to my navel. From my navel to my vagina and legs, I was totally awake. I could walk, I could bend my legs, etc.---it was horrible. I kept telling them that.
[Kmom note: It is harder to put it an epidural on larger women because it's difficult to estimate the distance needed to get to the proper space. However, a good anesthesiologist should be trained to adapt for both easy and harder cases. Also, recent research shows that often the problem is taping down the catheter *before* the woman moves to lying down; this tends to dislodge the catheter a little, and especially so in large women. This tends to make the epidural patchy or less effective. Researchers were able to cut the rate of epidural problems by taping the catheter down *after* the woman lies down, and the improvement was particularly marked in large women. It's impossible to know if this was the problem here, but it's a good possibility. Another possibility is that if the baby was malpositioned, that could also have affected the epidural's effectiveness.]
They decided to give me morphine via the epidural---this took the edge off, but only a little. Then they turned up the pit and from that point on, I literally thought I was going to die. I could only whimper and breathe. I couldn't talk, focus, or anything. I was thirsty and they only allowed me ice chips, which was another indicator this was going south and I was going to be sectioned. The parade of docs kept coming, each one checking me, and shaking their heads and saying, "I am sorry but you are not progressing."
Dr. S marches in my room at 5:30 Thursday morning and tells me she is sectioning me via Midline incision. [Kmom note: Some doctors mistakenly think that an up-down incision must be done in fat women because of the risk of infection, but research shows that a bikini-cut/low transverse does just fine even in larger women. Midline or 'classical' incisions are riskier for the mother and any future children she might bear because they tend to be weaker and rupture more easily. Fortunately, this mom knew not to accept this and refused a midline incision. But the fact that this doctor would even have done it is appalling and shows how much bias there still is.]
Dr. S noticed my age and asked me if I wanted more children. Now what kind of an asinine question is that to ask a woman who is writhing in pain. [Kmom: The kind that allows them to prevent more fat women from having babies, which they often believe is 'too risky'. OBs used to regularly try to sterilize minority women as well.] I said I was not sure at this point, then that I wanted no more children. She said, "Well, let's sterilize you then while we are in there." DH was just waking up at this point (I had forced him to lay down and sleep), and I said, "Honey are you freaking hearing this??" I told her to get my peri down here ASAP. I wanted to feel no more pain--I was miserable. They gave me more morphine.
The entire time this was going on, Nicholas was a trooper, no decels at all---he was tolerating labor better than I. My peri came down at 8 a.m. and I was sobbing by then. He felt I could do this vaginally and said, "Let's give this one more day since you are not infected. Your baby is well, I hate to do a section on you---I want you to birth vaginally." So I mustered all my strength up and said okay---I knew that regardless tonight I'd have a baby. DH's family came up to be with us and took turn laboring with me so DH could get a break. This was the hardest labor I think---I was having contractions 1-2 minutes apart, lasting 2 minutes long, with double peaks. They kept dosing my epidural but it wasn't doing much but numbing the section between breasts and navel.
Thursday night rolled around, still no progress. So I said to my peri to please just section me. I couldn't take anymore, we were coming up on the 58th hour of labor and I had had it. He agreed it was time. He said, "Obviously something is not right, and your pelvis isn't cooperating." [Kmom note: Or more likely, the baby was malpositioned!] So I called my mom and told her what was going on and I just melted down. By then I was scared, angry, and out of control. Little did I know what was in store for me.
I asked at that point to have the pit turned off---they were going to section me at 9 p.m., and I wanted to rest. The other on-call doc said, "Leave it on, just in case." I then lost it. There were at this point (no joke) 15 medical personnel in my room plus my family, and NO one listened to me except my family. I screamed, "THIS FUCKING HURTS!!!!!! I AM HAVING A GOD DAMN FUCKING SECTION. TURN OFF THE FUCKING PIT NOW OR I WILL RIP MY IV OUT MYSELF." Everyone stopped and looked at me, and the pit was quietly turned off. 5 minutes later the contractions stopped. Nicholas was still doing beautifully, and wouldn't you know it, I think the epidural worked a bit more as I didn't feel so much pressure.
My peri took another look at the catheter in my bladder and said, "Here is part of the problem." So they re-cathed me, as it wasn't drawing enough urine off. My bladder was totally empty for the first time in 3 days; that was a huge relief in itself. 9 p.m. came and I had dozed, my family fretted, and I was going between being relieved and freaking out. At 10 p.m. they took me down to the O.R., DH was given scrubs, and they took my old epidural out and put in a new one to numb me, lower this time. This kind of worked---I could feel a patch about 4-6 inches long way down deep in my pelvis near my vagina. They said they would take care of things.
At 10:15 p.m. they started the surgery. While I didn't feel the cut, I felt all the tugging. [Kmom: It's normal to feel tugging and pressure, but it shouldn't hurt.] When they inserted the retractors, it was then I started screaming, hot white pain came ripping, and I felt I was going to throw up. It was too late to go backwards. They had to keep going, and they just started pumping in the drugs to me, and I kept yelling. At 10:30 p.m., Nicholas was pulled from my body. DH saw him take his first breath, and it was just overwhelming. Nicholas started to cry as soon as he was out of my body. His Apgars were 8 and 9, and he was perfect.
I stayed in the hospital 4 more days. The recovery was slow. I developed blood clots postpartum and was put on Warfarin (Coumadin). I chose to stop breastfeeding as I didn't feel that Warfarin transmitted through breast milk was safe for my son. It was my choice.
[Kmom's postscript: Although Nick's mom did end up with a c/s, she did NOT have a midline/classical incision; they successfully used a low transverse incision on her. So much for 'needing' a midline incision! Nor did she choose to have them go ahead and sterilize her. But these are classic examples of size bias.
These two tactics---midline/classical incision and strong pressure to sterilize---are sometimes used on supersized women to 'punish' them for daring to have kids. They induce early, and when the induction doesn't work and the woman is in great pain and emotionally vulnerable, they tell her she must have a c/s by classical incision, and while they're in there, they might as well sterilize her too. It is UNETHICAL to have a woman in labor make the decision about sterilization; hospitals are supposed to require signed consent ahead of time and not accept a decision made under duress. But although most do not do this, some OBs still routinely try to force their fat patients into being sterilized, or if they will not agree to sterilization, will use a classical incision to make the decision to have more children that much more risky and discourage it that way.
Fortunately, Nick's mom had a wonderful perinatologist who was very much her advocate. She knew to get him in order to get rid of the fat-phobic Dr. S, and she was able to have a low transverse incision instead. He also not only discouraged sterilization but told her that VBAC is an option for her in the future if she wishes.
Nick's mom also is pursuing a complaint against Dr. S's treatment. Undoubtedly the hospital will officially support the doctor, but the very act of the doctor having to defend her actions in a meeting will make her re-examine her routine biases and hopefully make her think twice before she uses these on another fat woman. Brava to Nick's Mom! You go, girl. If more fat women stuck up for themselves or officially complained after experiencing size-phobic treatment, doctors would have a much harder time treating fat women like crap.]
Bonnie A's Story (pre-eclampsia, difficult c/s, poor treatment, difficulties bfing)
Kmom's Notes: This mother had a difficult experience---be forewarned. Although not really plus-sized in the past, she learned from this experience what fat-phobia can be like.
This mom had severe edema, and her blood pressure raised strongly by the end of pregnancy. Her labs seem to indicate she had developed pre-eclampsia. She was induced with a bunch of Cytotec, a fairly new induction agent that can cause severe problems in some women. The usual dose is 25-50 mg, and may be repeated once or twice (even that is controversial), but this mom received 275 mg over 2 days. She was also on Magnesium Sulfate to control any possible seizures from the pre-eclampsia, and mag sulfate may counteract induction meds, so that may be why she did not seem to respond to such a large dose.
She experienced severe discomfort from all the mag sulfate she was given. She also had terrible itching. She may have had a reaction to that and all the pain meds she was given; itching is a common response in women who are sensitive to the drugs. However, she was also given a sponge bath by a mean nurse who did not wash her off; the itching may have come from that, or it may simply have exacerbated a meds sensitivity. Whatever the cause, she had a very difficult time with itching.
When they did the cesarean, they had a hard time getting the baby out. This is common with malpositions, and a malposition may also help explain why she did not progress in dilation much (esp. with the mag sulfate on board). The baby had significant bruising on her shoulders and arm, which may have simply been from the doctors wrestling her out during the c/s, or it may have been because the baby was malpositioned. There's just no way to know for sure.
This story is extremely long but nearly all the details have been included because it is such an important story documenting the poor care that some women experience after birth. Many of her post-partum attendants were callous, uncaring, and even vindictive at times. They sabotaged her breastfeeding with bottles and enforced separations; when she pumped, they dumped her colostrum down the sink rather than give it to the baby! They gave her poor advice on positioning and did not catch the problem of back-arching that the baby had. If not for some last-ditch help from one last lactation consultant, breastfeeding would not have worked out at all.
But the worst thing of all was how the mother was made to feel incompetent, hardly permitted to hold her baby, and generally disempowered in her new role as a mother. What she needed was gentle guidance, understanding, and empowerment instead, especially after such a difficult birth. Fortunately, her relatives and an occasional nurse or lactation consultant did give her some nurturing and some assistance, and eventually things worked out.
Birth Story
This story is harder to write than I thought it would be. At the time, everything just happened so fast and I became so helpless. It was exactly what I thought it would NOT be.
Let me start from the beginning. I am married to an immigrant. When we first married, the stress of filing all the immigration papers and some of the complications that arose really told on my health...including an 80-lb weight gain. I had never really been overweight, and it came on like a ton of bricks. I thought I would lose the weight once the stress of the papers was over, but I didn't. There was always something new. I weighed about 240 and was "normally" about 160. I had gone from a size 10 to a size 20. I finally decided that I may never lose the weight and so we agreed to try and become pregnant in spite of it.
My pregnancy went well. Only a little morning sickness, and I wasn't even overly miserable until the last 5 or 6 weeks. I had some pretty severe edema, but everyone said it was just the summer heat. My blood pressure stayed close to my usual 104/60 (although the nurses always remarked how low it was...like because of my weight they could not believe I was healthy.) I found out at my 20-week ultrasound that it was a girl, and everything looked fine. We decided that day to call her Natalié Yolanda.
My husband and I attended a waterbirthing class, and decided that was definitely the way we wanted to birth. I began working on a birth plan, and reading everything I could get my hands on about natural childbirth...I became very non-intervention minded, and was determined to do everything as natural as possible. My birth plan reflected this. At 32 weeks, I changed midwives because I just felt like I never really made that "connection" to the midwife I had been going to. She had made several comments about me needing to be walking at least 5 miles a day (in spite of the fact that I have a detached tendon in my ankle and my pregnancy aggravated this). I just felt that she saw my weight as a big problem. I can't tell you why. I also decided I wanted to birth in a hospital "just in case". The jury is still out as to whether that was the right decision!
I went to a childbirth class at 37 weeks...a natural childbirth class that talked more about the feelings and communication surrounding birth than the actual event. The theory being, you cannot dictate the event but you can dictate your environment and reactions, to a degree. The class was incredible and my husband and I loved it. We became anxious for her arrival. From the beginning, I met resistance with my natural birth plans...from co-workers, from family, from friends. No one was overtly negative, but people just kind of alluded to the fact that I would be "screaming for my epidural" in no time.
Well toward the end, I was completely miserable. The swelling started to get really bad...I was already wearing shoes 2 sizes bigger and now could barely wear those. I got a double chin, couldn't wear my thumb ring on my wedding band finger, and even my toes had little creases in them from the swelling. I looked like a balloon person with sausage feet. The midwives had me going in every 4 days for non-stress tests, and the first 2 were fine. By the 3rd, the baby was fine but my blood pressure was getting worrisome at 192/78. I weighed almost 300 pounds.
When I took the results to the midwives' office, they explained I would have to be induced because it looked like I was developing pre-eclampsia. They offered to try and wait but I agreed to an induction because they said there was no way my condition would get any BETTER, and this way I had a chance at my natural birth still. After many misgivings, I checked in Tuesday for a cytotec induction. I wasn't crazy about cytotec after all my reading, but it seemed like a better option than pitocin, which would keep me on an IV stuck in bed and from what I'd heard, give me nightmare contractions.
When I got to the ER, they had to call for a wheelchair...and when it arrived, I could not fit!!! It looked really narrow to me but maybe that is just because I was so large and swollen. So I waited, mortified in front of my husband, while they sent for the "large" wheelchair. That one looked normal to me! So they wheeled me up to the 14th floor, tossed a nightgown at me and had me get into bed (just like all the stories I'd read). And you know what? It was a lot harder to resist anything they told me than I thought. I obediently put on the nightgown (which could not close in back and exposed me completely), peed in a cup, and got into bed to be hooked up to all the monitors.
They [ended up giving me 3 doses of Cytotec over time; 25 mg, 50 mg, then 50 mg again.] Only a few contractions. I was only 1/2 to 1 cm. dilated...they said I was getting a "softer cervix" with each dose. I was losing a lot of blood and mucus. They sent me home anyway. So home we went, with strict orders to collect every drop of my urine for 24 hours in this plastic bin they gave me (yuck!). Well that was no fun, and 24 hours later I was at the hospital lab turning in my urine and getting blood drawn. The midwife had told me this was to see if I was going to be "high risk" for the next try at inducing me 2 days later on. So we checked back into the hospital on Thursday for a second try at the cytotec...knowing if it didn't work I was stuck with pitocin. I cried and cried Wednesday night because I knew my chances for getting the birth I "wanted" or anything close to it were not very good.
When I checked in Thursday, I remembered to ASK for the large wheelchair. There was another pregnant lady checking in for induction at the same time, and she looked about normal weight. She got to walk up! They would not ALLOW me to walk up. I was terribly embarrassed, because we even rode the same elevator. The cytotec routine went the same on Thursday, with one big exception: when I arrived on the 14th floor, they told me my urine results were great and I could walk around and even go outside if I wanted. The midwife on duty, C----, was my least favorite of all of them because of her unhappy demeanor and seeming favor of interventions (she acted like Pitocin was an inevitability) during our meeting a few weeks before. She was her usual serious self, and never smiled back at me or acted even slightly compassionately. The nurse told me to go to the café and get something to eat while I still had an appetite. So after my initial monitoring and first dose of cytotec, my husband and I went down to the café, then went out to walk the halls and heard my name paged over the hospital intercom to return to the 14th floor. My midwife said, "We read your results wrong. Your protein count is 472 and the max is 300. You must get in bed NOW and I have already ordered the Magnesium Sulfate IV." I was stunned and burst into tears. I was obviously doing just fine walking around, and now they realize they read my charts wrong. She explained I was at high risk for liver failure and seizures and I became so upset that my doula asked if we could have a minute alone. She was sterile and commanding in her explanations.
My doula took me in the bathroom and comforted me and I tried to process the information I had just learned as quickly as I could. I couldn't quit crying and I told my husband to call my mother NOW. I just wanted my mom. The midwife opened the door to the bathroom without even knocking and told me I needed to get in bed, NOW. I was pissed at that point. I had been doing fine out of bed for hours; she could at least give me a moment's privacy with my doula to process the horrible news. After all, I was weeping! My doula told her firmly we would be there in a minute. I was very grateful for her support. She then answered me that she did not know about my chances for a Cesarean anyway at this point, but that we could ask for Dr. M----- and he could advise me forthrightly.
I finished up in the bathroom and got in bed, and they immediately began strapping on monitors, prepping me for the IV, and explaining to me that I was probably going to get sick from the Mag Sulfate since I had just eaten (gee, thanks guys for telling me to go eat!!!). The midwife dutifully explained that I could only have one small glass of ice chips per hour, and no food. That sure made me mad. They wouldn't even let me drink water!! This was turning into my worst nightmare. I felt like a prisoner. And to make it worse, my baby was their prisoner too, by default. They stuck my hand with the IV line. Thank God, the nurse, named J-----, was very compassionate because at that point I felt all alone in the world. They rolled in the bag of Mag Sulfate and I started to cry all over. They promised to give me something in the IV first to help with the nausea. When they hooked up the Mag, it was exactly how everyone has described...it was hot and burned the veins in my arm. It truly hurt. I asked for ice packs and my mom and sister (who had arrived by then) helped hold the ice to my entire forearm and wrist where it was aching like someone was scraping my bone. My husband fed me ice chips and I tried not to cry. Dr. M----- came in the room and told me we would see what kind of progress I made between then (it was almost noon) and 5pm. He said he felt I had at least a 50% chance of being able to have a vaginal birth. Of course, waterbirth was out of the question at this point because of the Mag and the IV and blah blah blah.
Once the Mag hit, I felt nauseous and a little out of it. I began to feel tired and irritable. I was thirsty...the ice chips didn't seem to help. And they had given me 50 mg more of the cytotec - my 2nd dose that day - and in spite of the nausea I began to feel some sharp hunger pangs. This made me even grumpier. The slightest loud voices or people eating in my room made me furious. After a few hours, I figured out that the "hunger pains" were actually contractions. After my 3rd dose of cytotec, they got even worse. I had managed to avoid a catheter until this point, and when I went pee I was losing all sorts of goopy, bloody mucus. The nurse, J----, informed me that my cervix was much softer and she thought it was about a 2. My midwife decided she needed to check too. She made me put my fists under my hips and dug around, asking me to tilt my pelvis because there was so much "flesh" in between her and the cervix (??????). I took it as a fat reference, but I was used to it by now. I was cautiously happy because at least a 2cm estimate meant progress.
By 4pm I was having to breathe through the contractions and I reserved some hope that my body was working after all. My arm was the most painful thing....whenever the Mag released (it was on some kind of timer) it hurt like little demons running up my veins. When Dr. M---- came in at 5, he told me that my cervix was "up somewhere in Montreal" and the baby was at least 9 or 10 pounds. He said my cervix was tipped posterior and it wasn't even 1cm. Oh. He said that I would have to have a Cesarean because my blood pressure was already too high in a reclining position, and if I was allowed to labor much more normally I could have a brain hemorrhage or seizure or blah blah blah. I was stunned. He said they had to get the baby out NOW. I just could not compute the information...but it is not like I had time. Instantly, my room was invaded by teams of people to prepare me. My family was shooed out except my mom and my husband were there at some point. The wicked midwife (I might mention at this point, she was the only MW in the practice I didn't care for and now I knew why!) was brushed to the side and I felt like she was more of an uncompassionate nurse or pawn than a true midwife.
My mom hugged me over the side rail of the bed while I cried silent tears. I was so scared I could barely breathe and I couldn't believe
this was happening to me. My mom prayed for me and my sweet husband hovered with a very worried look on his face.
My husband and doula changed into scrubs. I suddenly felt like I was in some alter reality and was
watching everything from outside my body, like a dream. I wanted more than anything to be NOT pregnant and my mind searched frantically for some way
out of this. But there was none. My insides were quaking and I just tried to keep calm.
Some lady came in with a plastic case and I thought it was an epidural, but it turns out they were there to shave me!! I was too terrified and out-of-it from the Mag to ask why the hell they were shaving me for a Cesarean. When they finished, it was time to go to the operating room. No one explained anything to me, and I was shocked when they told me I had to WALK to the operating room. I had been told all day I wasn't allowed out of bed! How incredibly perverse. So I walked down the hallways to the O.R., pushing my little IV stand. I secretly wondered if it was because it was inconvenient to get the "large" wheelchair. My mom took a photo. It is really pathetic.
In the O.R., I was terrified. It looked just like everyone describes...Sterile, cold, and little trays of scary-looking tools. I looked my husband in the eye and I was afraid I was going to die. I think I said something to him about taking care of the baby if I died. While we were waiting, I remember my doula asking me if I was still having contractions. She understood how I felt; I could see it in her eyes. That made me cry from deep in my soul; my body was trying so hard and I felt like I was betraying it, and the little baby inside me. The anesthesiologist got called away on some emergency and my husband, my doula and I were left there with me sitting on the operating table to ponder my fate. I cried the whole time. It ended up being a blessing in disguise though, because by the time the anesthesiologist got back, I was a little more calm. Dr. M----- walked in and took one look at my face and said, "You are really scared, aren't you?" I just nodded. The anesthesiologist was a very nice and patient man, soft spoken with kind eyes. He talked me through the spinal and it wasn't that bad. The Mag Sulfate hurt more than the spinal, in truth. The instant the needles were in it started to take effect.
They heaved me around to the "cross" position (with much grunting - I was SO afraid they would drop me!) and inserted the catheter...I cried out more than once because I could still feel. Catheters hurt! Then they tied my legs together and tied my arms out in the "cross" position. The anesthesiologist checked me several times to make sure my nerves were deadening. My doula kept me centered in the midst of my fright and told me to feel myself breathing. That helped a lot, because you feel like you are dead or dying. The partition went up and they started cutting. The thing that surprised me the most was that I could still feel!! I could not feel pain, but I could feel things moving around inside, the knife cutting. Then, of course I felt it when they brought her head out. I heard all sorts of exclamations about how much hair she had. They had a hard time getting her body out because she was so big and broad. They pushed and pulled on the baby and I so hard that I thought I would fall off the table. Dr. M----- made a joke about having shoulder dystocia from a c-section. Well I thought it was a joke...it turns out later that her whole shoulder and arm was black from bruising. He also joked about delivering a 3-month-old. They all made bets on her weight.
Once she was out, I remember asking if it was "still a girl" and they said it was. I asked if she was OK. I couldn't see her because the "baby team" that handles the Cesarean babies was hovering around her. In maybe 4 or 5 minutes I could turn my head while they were suctioning me out (sounds just like you are at the dentist) and stitching me up. I saw a very pink baby with a head of wild black hair, screaming her lungs out. I felt relief she seemed well and then I just sort of detached from the situation. I heard them talking about how much meconium had been in her water and how even the placenta was stained green. Someone made a comment about how my fallopian tubes looked like chicken's feet. That irked me. My husband was given the bundled baby and tried to show her to me, but I could not really see her and was not coherent enough to tell him to lean her down further. He took her out of the O.R. while they finished sewing me up to show her to my family and tell them I was OK. I remember them putting a shot of pitocin in my IV and my doula telling me how remarkably fast they had finished sewing me up. Then they all heaved me onto another bed (again, it felt like they were going to drop me...and I know I was not handled very easily) and started rolling me out. I thought they took me directly to my room, but I found out weeks later that I went to Recovery. I must have blacked out because I have absolutely no recollection of this.
I remember them wheeling me to my room. The baby was in the warmer on the other side of the room and my family was crowded around her. My sister was videotaping. They were giving her shots, slicing her heel for the PKU test, and putting Erythromycin in her eyes. She was intermittently screaming and I remember feeling so drugged and helpless. I wanted to see my baby but I couldn't even raise my voice to say anything, and at this point I was completely resigned to the hospital machine. After doing her PKU 4 times (they kept saying they weren't getting enough blood), shooting her up with Vitamin K and Hepatitis B vaccine, weighing her (9 lbs 8 oz) and generally torturing her, some lady brought her to my bed. Not my husband, not my family, but some lady who talked too fast and acted like the God of my baby...all in a very nice way. She held my baby girl in front of me for what seemed like eons, while I struggled with everything in me to keep my eyes open and seem alert...the drugs were overpowering. She talked and talked and to this moment I cannot remember what about. I assume nursing.
When she finally let me have the baby, she said I was too drugged to hold her and I would have to try nursing lying down because of my swollen belly and my "large size." They messed with my bed, moved me over, propped me up on pillows, and took my gown off to my waist. Then they put little Natalié Yolanda down beside me and she told me to move my arms out of the way. She took my breast in one hand and my little baby's brand new head in the other, and tried to force us together. I was humiliated and I remember just looking away once she told me to move my arms out of the way. Natalié cried. She wouldn't be peaceful, and she certainly would not just let me hold or bond with my baby.
Unfortunately, all the activity made me vomit - I knew it was coming and warned them just in time to get the baby off my lap and a little bowl in front of me. I heaved and vomited about 20 times. It was awful. They tried again. Natalié showed no interest in eating and after she was manipulated and shoved into my breast enough times, she was inconsolable and the lady lifted her out of my bed and I don't remember what happened after that. I was told I could not hold her because of the drugs, that I could drop her. I just wanted to close my eyes and wake up in another world where this was not happening.
The rest of the night was a blur. A gruff nurse named K---- took over and stripped me and lathered me up in my bed and began to wash me down everywhere. I could feel my IV and catheter line tugging as she heaved my heavy, swollen body over this way and that, soaping me down. It was like she thought because I was big, I couldn't feel. I remember wanting to ask why she didn't rinse me when she began toweling me off, but I just couldn't get the words from my brain to my mouth. Then she began stripping and washing Natalié in this little metal bowl. I vaguely remember my husband getting the video camera and Natalié was screaming again. Poor thing. I tried to stay awake and watch the first bath but I couldn't even keep my eyes from rolling back in my head. I felt so sick. I faded in and out. They moved us to a different room, and then the nurses changed again. I found out later the gruff nurse did not want to attend me, and that is why she was so mean. Great. The new nurse was nice, and held the bowl for me while I threw up over and over and over. It hurt so badly. I felt so detached from my baby at this point I barely noticed her sleeping in the bassinet beside me. I felt sad and USED somehow.
The next day was a blur of having more than one person calling themselves "lactation specialists" come in my room, and proceed to try and instruct me in the complex art of breastfeeding. I would hesitantly take off my gown, and they would take my baby in one hand and my breast in the other, and get in a pulling match with Natalié. My little one was a back-archer from the start, and strong as a horse. She would throw her head back and resist the pushing until she shook with the effort, screaming hysterically. They would be pulling my breast, rolling my nipple painfully and manipulating us to no end. I gritted my teeth and finally told one of them it hurt when she was tugging at my nipple, and was shocked when she said that it "couldn't hurt" and that she "had to!" At no point was I allowed to simply hold my own baby and try to feed her on my own.
I began to feel like a failure. I cried whenever I moved it hurt so badly. I could feel the catheter and was not able to sit up at all because of the pain it caused in my urethra. One of the "specialists" told me if I could not sit up in the bed, there was no way Natalié could try and nurse. So I cried and brought the bed up as high as I could. Of course, then the pushing match would start again. I was told over and over to please just keep my hands out of the way. I have no idea how someone could be expected to succeed in this position. I was mad at how hard they were forcing Natalié. She became instantly hysterical whenever they tried. They would eventually sigh and give up, put her in her crib, squalling, and go off to find a bottle of formula. Then they would cup feed it to her at my insistence; I knew she should not have artificial nipple if she couldn't nurse. She would slurp it down, burp, and peacefully go back to sleep. Since she wouldn't nurse, they rolled in a pump and instructed me how to start pumping my breasts so that my milk would come in. All the focus was on my milk. I would pump and pump, and get a few cc's of colostrum from each breast. Instead of feeding it to Natalié, they would wash it down the sink and give her formula. When the shift changed and I got a really nice nurse, I asked her if I could please feed it to Natalié. She was kind and helped me feed her the little bit I got during her shift. The formula made Natalié spit up a lot. I know now that new babies do not need near as much food as they were forcing down her. No wonder she showed no interest in nursing! She was not hungry.
The Dr. had come that morning and mercifully told them to stop the Mag Sulfate. He also prescribed Lasix, which I knew from my days at the racetrack was a strong diuretic. He did say the catheter had to stay in though, which disappointed me. During this day the nurses and "specialists" started becoming concerned about Natalié's whistling while breathing. She had a real wheezy sound to her breath, especially when upset but also when resting. They brought up a specialist from Pediatrics who said she was OK once he checked her over. Later in the day, she was wheezing much worse so I asked them to take a look. The nurse was very concerned and told me they had decided to take her down to the intensive care nursery for testing. She assured me it would not be long, and she would let me know what was happening. I didn't want to part from Natalié, since I had finally gotten to hold her, but I also wanted her to be OK.
They wheeled her off and I sent my husband with her, since I was stuck in bed with a catheter. During this time, I was going crazy with itching. All over my body, I developed sores and itched until I made wounds in my skin. Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore and asked the nurse if she thought it was some sort of allergic reaction to the painkillers they were giving me in my IV. She said she didn't know but could give me Stadol for the itching. I didn't want that so I asked if there was anything else. She said Benadryl. So I told her to do it...I needed relief. The Benadryl knocked me out like light. I could not even talk; my tongue was so heavy in my mouth. I hated it...at one point, I was sure I would die of thirst but I could not lift my voice to call the nurse and I had no idea where the call button was. A lady from my work came to visit me and I couldn't even keep my eyes open to acknowledge her. I found out later she was alarmed because I was so incoherent.
When the Benadryl finally began wearing off, I had more visitors. This went on for hours. No word on Natalié. My husband had been gone for hours and the nurses had changed shifts. He came back once in a dither because they wanted to give her a bottle and a pacifier and he knew I didn't want that. I said NO! And he said it was for some kind of test. I said NO...they could tell me what kind of test but otherwise no. He left. The new nurse knew nothing of my daughter and I asked her to please find out. My husband stopped in once to tell me everything was OK and they had run tests and she was fine. The nurse asked me if I would like a sponge bath, and it hit me.... that was what was wrong with me!! That gruff nurse had used soap and not rinsed me off! I had dried-on soap all over my body. I did not even remember until that moment. I told the nurse and she agreed to just use water so we could get the itching to stop. It worked! But now I had sores on my face, chest, and arms from itching. I was so embarrassed because two of the sores were on my face, and one on my chest right between my breasts. They looked like boils. I already looked so ugly with my sweat-matted hair, swollen face and body, and now I had big red sores on my face...this made me ashamed to have photos taken. I grieved this bitterly when I was back home, that I did not have photos of me and my new baby.
It was evening by now. My sister finally took her leave and as soon as she stepped out of the room, hysteria began to set in. My family was gone, my husband was gone, and my baby had been gone for almost 10 hours! I had to pump, and when I did I began to cry as I knew my baby was missing the precious colostrum my body was making to give her immunities. I called the nurse and asked her about my baby. She didn't know. She did give me a number for the nursery. I called and was told the nurse in charge of my baby was busy and I would have to call back in half an hour. I began to cry. The harder I cried, the more I thought. The more I thought, the harder I cried. Where was my baby? Was she OK? How was she eating without me? Formula? By some miracle, my sister had decided to bring some blankets from her car up to my husband; she came back and found me a dripping, crying mess. I called the nursery again, and they told me she was already on her way up to me. I calmed down. My sister decided to wait with me. The clock ticked. Over 40 minutes passed. When I told her about how long they had had Natalié and what had happened, she went out to find out what was up. She came back to tell me that Natalié had indeed been moved up to my floor, but to the nursery there. They had her hooked up to all sorts of monitors and told me that I could not see her because she could not be brought to me, and I could not get out of bed because of my catheter. I went ballistic.
My sister left again and told them that I was going to flip out if I could not see my baby. She must have moved heaven and earth, because they unhooked Natalié from all of her monitors and brought her to my room. This horribly mean, huge woman with an inch of makeup on named J---- was her nurse and would not hand her to me. She held her in front of me and lectured me on how many babies they had to take care of more important than mine, and that she didn't have time to cater to my wants to see my baby, and that she was their responsibility until the head Nurse Practitioner signed off on her. I lost it - I told her not to be rude to me and to please just let me hold my baby. She said, "I am TRYING not to be rude to you. You have to understand that we are busy. We have babies much more important than yours, with much worse problems." Blah blah blah.
I didn't even hear her mouth talking after that. I went off. I said, "This is MY baby. You have had her for 10 hours. You did not even tell me she was OK, or what was wrong, or if I wanted to feed her. Someone took her from my room with an assurance they would be right back, and now you are telling me she is your responsibility. She is MINE. You can't just take her." I was sobbing uncontrollably. She tried to argue with me and raise her voice. My nurse, my husband, my sister, and this woman were all crowded into my tiny room, looking at me. She was still holding my baby! I said, "Just give me my baby," over and over. After much lecturing about how I only had 5 minutes, she handed me Natalié. I just buried my head in her and took deep breaths. The 5 minutes was no joke and she was back to take her quarry. I asked how long until I could have Natalié back. She said the head Nurse Practitioner came on at 10, and she would evaluate her then. She haughtily said that Natalié would probably be released, but no guarantees. I told her I would wait until 10:30 before I started calling and asking. My loss of control had made its mark though; her pride was stepped on. She was not going to be doing me any favors.
I waited with my sister, a lifesaver, and we made lists of questions to ask and what we would do. We called my doula and a friend who used to work at the hospital for advice. At 10:15, there was a knock and K--, the head Nurse Practitioner, had come to see me. She was nice but extremely patronizing. I apologized for losing it with her nurse, and tried to outline my frustration coherently. She said she had come to see me that afternoon, but that I was sleeping. This made me mad...they woke me every hour for blood pressure and temperature checks anyway! I guess she came when I was out on the Benadryl. She also defended herself that everything had been explained to my husband. I was baffled at their ignorance; my husband is obviously foreign and has heavily accented English and no knowledge of medical terms. She said they had no idea (right!). She in turn explained to me that Natalié's esophagus was weak; that the cartilage rings had not hardened fully. She said that she was getting plenty of oxygen, the tests showed, and so she would release her to me when she got back to the nursery. She said the condition was somewhat common, and not dangerous because the esophagus was not closing completely. She also said her little nasal passages were swollen from all the aspirations. Apparently, they had aspirated her a 3rd time in the nursery for fluid her lungs. She was having a hard time breathing. The "test" with the bottle was to see if she could both breathe and suck at the same time; basically, to check and see if her nursing problem was physiological.
The huge, horrid nurse brought Natalié back to me about an hour later. It was almost midnight by now. She triumphantly told me that I could have her in my room, but only on the condition of "supervised feedings". I was surprised and asked what this meant. And she said, every 2 hours she would come and "supervise" while I tried to nurse Natalié. I asked her why, and she said that they were concerned that Natalié would starve without enough food, because I didn't want her to have a bottle or formula. I was shocked. I agreed, though, because all I wanted was to hold my baby. I took her out of her bassinet and laid her on my chest and dozed while looking at her sleep. I was completely on my guard for whoever wanted to steal her away again!
That mean nurse did indeed come to "supervise" her feeding. I apologized to her for my outburst in an attempt to smooth her ruffled feathers if we had to get along in the middle of the night, and she had the power to take my baby away from me. She eventually warmed up a little and tried to "help" me feed Natalié by trying nipple shields and this odd syringe and tube contraption that fed formula into the nipple shield so the baby would supposedly get the idea to latch on. Nothing worked, of course. I was very quiet and listened while she went on to tell me she had not had enough milk for her son and had to supplement with formula, and it was no big deal, and she had no idea what the lactation people were so worked up about anyway. She told me that giving a bottle or formula was fine, and would not cause any of that "nipple confusion" nonsense they were so worried about. She was very opinionated about it.
I finally just gave up. They broke me. I was running on only a few hours of drug-induced sleep, had been medicated within an inch of my life, was in severe pain from my section (I cannot take narcotics so I requested only 800mg of Ibuprofen), and felt rejected by my own baby and totally inadequate for not being able to figure out how to breastfeed my child. So, I let the nurse bottle feed my little Natalié. And thus began my resolve to get the hell out of that hospital. I kept pumping my breasts anyway, in hopes that maybe when I got in the privacy of my own home I could do it. I had no idea just how bad letting her have a bottle was.
A different nurse came on duty in the middle of that night, and I begged her from the first moment to let me have my foley
catheter out. She said the Dr. had specifically written on my chart not to remove it, but she promised to ask him first thing. It was hurting my
urethra every time I moved, and by morning it was aching whether I moved or not. She was an angel. True to her word, she came in about 5 or 6AM and
snipped the line and mercifully yanked it out quickly as I yelped in pain and grabbed myself. All I cared about was it was out and I was free! She
also helped me to get a bigger gown that fit my body, and helped me find my own underwear since the disposable ones the hospital gives you only work if
you are a size 12 and under. She was super nice about it, and I cheered up a little.
She then went off duty at 7AM and I got a not-so-nice nurse. The Dr. came in and said I could shower and get out of bed and I almost hugged him I was so grimy at this point. She not-so-nice nurse made a big show of telling me I had only 5 minutes in the shower. I secretly thought...once I get in there, what are you going to do to get me out? The Dr. had told me to remove the pressure dressing from my incision while in the shower. When I started to stand, it was harder than I thought it would be. I was dizzy and weak and the incision hurt so bad I welled up with tears. But I was determined to get my shower so I smiled wildly (I must have appeared half-crazy) and got in the bath as quick as possible. The shower felt soooo good. I lathered my hair and body over and over and had just started working on the incision dressing when Ms. Not-so-nice came to tell me to get out but hey! I still had to take off the dressing...Dr's orders you know. The only thing was, I stupidly tried to hurry and it came off with a 2x2 section of my whole skin on one side. It hurt so bad! After I got out and showed the nurse, I asked her for some Neosporin or A+D ointment so it wouldn't get infected and maybe a couple band-aids. She said she would have to ask the Dr. for permission! I was incredulous. What bullshit. I told her forget it, I would ask my own mother to bring me some.
A nicer lactation consultant came that day, and she brought me a bottle of
sterile water to mix with the colostrum I pumped to feed Natalié. I never fed her formula again! They moved me to the 12th floor that day and I think
they sort of forgot about their "monitoring" of my feeding, so I kept feeding her only my colostrum and water. I fed it to her in the bottle when
they were looking, and in the cup when they were not. I was largely ignored once they moved me to the 12th floor, because I was no longer considered
"high risk".
One of the midwives from my clinic came to see me - M-----, the one who had been there the day of my first induction. She brought Natalié a little stuffed pink bear and sat and talked to me for a while. I so wished I could have had her for the birth. She was sympathetic to my wishes for a natural birth and was careful to tell me what was going on and why; she understood I needed to process and grieve my losses of what I had hoped birth would be. I know things probably wouldn't have gone any different with her than with the midwife I ended up with, but at least I would have felt supported instead of like the enemy was in my camp. I felt special that she remembered to come see me and decided that my initial judgment had been correct: all the midwives in my practice were great except the one I got.
That night I was awake most of the night. I held Natalié all night and plotted my way out of that place. It felt like jail. Starting at 7AM with the nurse shift change, I asked every 30 minutes when I could go home. My diligence paid off (squeaky wheel gets the oil?) and the Dr. came 'round about 9 to tell me I could go home if I wanted to that bad. I thanked him profusely. He told me to come back on Tuesday (it was Sunday) to get my staples out...By 12, I was signed out...after about 6 lectures and 20 signatures, I was free. All I wanted was OUT, where I could get to know this precious little baby I hardly knew but already loved. It took them almost an hour to find the "large" wheelchair. I just kept asking. I had this feeling of urgency...I was so afraid they would find some reason or other to keep me or Natalié there.
The next few days were tumultuous and difficult. I had a severe bladder infection from the catheter and it hurt like heck every time I peed. I had to call the Dr. for antibiotics. Fun, more meds. Natalié would not nurse any more at home than in the hospital, so I pumped constantly and was nauseated from the Ibuprofen. My mother was a godsend and helped out. I could still barely walk.
We tried breastfeeding almost every time but she would try to latch on, then rear back and cry wildly and gasp. I was afraid she couldn't breathe. I would then feed her my milk, which came in the day I escaped the hospital, from a bottle. I was over-engorged and my breasts were dripping constantly...it was painful, miserable, and sad because I didn't know why I couldn't feed my own baby. I began to get discouraged after a few days and was weeping over the thought of having to switch to formula. I considered pumping and bottle feeding, but I was so miserable and it didn't seem practical.
I followed my sister's advice and decided to make a final last-ditch effort and call her friend, who was a lactation consultant, post-partum doula, and general baby expert. After my previous experience with "experts", I didn't expect much. But I had met this woman before and liked her very much so I decided to do it. She agreed to meet with me. We had been emailing for a day or two, and her responses were so helpful, I knew that this was it: if she could not help me, it was over.
My mom taxied us out to her office about 45 minutes away on a miserable pouring rain day. But once in her office, she handed me a nipple shield. I looked at it dubiously. She told me how to put it on (something the hospital staff never did, they just shoved it at me) and she took my baby from me and checked out her mouth, tongue and nose. She declared her perfect and then showed me how to hold her. She explained that back-arching babies have to have their arms and legs spread in order to "open up" to nursing. She showed me how to hold her. With one try, Natalié latched on and nursed without stopping for 20 minutes. I think I smiled the entire time. My mom and I were exclaiming over and over, "Look at her, look at her!" She was nursing like she knew all along. Well of course she did!
I was struck with gratitude for this wonderful woman who saved my relationship with my baby and made me realize that it was not my baby or I who was defective, but the people at the hospital! Imagine, in about 4 minutes our whole world was righted. Why couldn't someone at the hospital simply shown me how to hold her instead of telling me to keep my hands away? Was a back-arching baby so rare? I doubt it. I grinned all the way home and our lives changed forever that instant. I began to heal, and Natalié was calmed.
Since then, our only sorrows have been those of the past. Why did I let all that happen? How much was really necessary? How much was fact and how much perception? Did the interventions cause the problems, or was I saved because I had interventions? I have cried and cried, and writing this story has taken me 7 weeks of soul-searching. All I know is this: never again.
Even if I have to have another cesarean, I will never again lose control and dignity. I will be informed, firm, and if that means being a "bad patient", so be it. I certainly had some bad nurses! On the flip side, I had some wonderful nurses. I can't believe the power that one person on a 12-hour shift has over your life when you are helpless. I can't even remember the names of some of my co-workers after having been off work a few weeks, but I can tell you the name of the nurse who left soap on my body to dry after my Cesarean. I am struck by the power they have to affect your life and your memories.
I am also struck by the prejudice against fat people. I had never been "fat" in my life, until recently before my pregnancy. But by the time I gave birth, at 300 lbs., I felt like I was living in an alter reality. I can tell you, as someone who used to be "normal", that you ARE treated worse...it is not in your head. When I was thinner and considered pretty, I was almost always treated with respect. Bloated, ugly, and with boils on my face, I was treated with barely even courtesy. It is like you don't count. Several times I heard muttering about the nurses having to get the larger arm cuff for BP counts. I can't imagine with over half the US population of women being a size 14 and over, that it would be THAT unusual. When you roll this treatment into the whole hospital experience, it just adds insult to injury.
I am not sure what I will do with the next one, but I can tell you that it will be different. I would like to try a homebirth and I still desperately want my waterbirth. But those fears haunt me...I have a lot of thinking and praying to do.
I love my daughter more than anything in this world and would do it all
again for her. I am just so deeply sorry her start in life was so abrupt, so tragic, and so stressful. I wish I could take it all back and be more
knowledgeable, healthier, and have been able to save her from nurses, probing, bottles, formula, separation, and everything else. I pray every day
that she feels secure and loved.
And I am eternally grateful to the woman who made it possible for me to nurse my baby. Thanks for taking the time to read my story.
[Kmom note: Bonnie A went on to have an empowering
VBAC at home. You can read a short version of this story below, or the
full version in the BBW VBAC stories section. There are also photos of
Bonnie's c/s birth side by side with her VBAC birth at www.pattiramos.com/bonnie.html.
]
Cindy's Story (failed induction at 42 weeks)
Kmom's Notes:
Birth Story
To start off, I didn't find out I was pregnant until I was 14 weeks along! Needless to say, it was unexpected. However, after the initial shock, DH and I were VERY excited. I was in a fairly new job about 800 miles from 'home' though, and it was tough.
I loved my dr. She was wonderful from the beginning. She was excited as I was. The only part about my weight that she mentioned was that I should try not to gain more than 25 lbs. since the average healthy gain is 25-35 lbs. And she monitored my sugar levels to make sure I didn't have gd (in my 3rd trimester it was apparent my child would be big).
The pregnancy was pretty uneventful---that is, until the end. At 36 weeks, baby was still breech and the doctor tried to turn him externally. Well, after about an hour of that with no success, we had decided that we would have a c/s. So of course, stubborn child that he is :-) he decided to turn on his own at 38 weeks. So then the c/s was off and it was back to vaginal birth. During this time, I had several ultrasounds to monitor baby's position and size, which was fun----I think I had 6 ultrasounds in my last trimester. We also found out he was going to be huge. At 40 weeks, the u/s tech predicted a size of nearly 10 lbs. So the doctor sent me back 2 days later for a different u/s tech to measure. The latter tech measured him to be 9 lbs, so the doctor decided to give it more time so that I could progress into labor on my own.
At 42 weeks, still no signs of labor, no dilation, nothing. So we went to be induced. First we had the cervadil overnight [prostaglandin gel]. Then we started the pitocin the next morning. I had a few cramps that I found out were contractions, but it was really nothing. The easiest way for me to tell if I was having a contraction was to look at the monitor. The doctor increased the pitocin levels for 3 days! Still nothing, nada, zip. So finally we went in for the c/s. I was so happy to finally get it over with. I wanted the c/s about 2 weeks ago, though!
Everything went great, and when baby came out, he was indeed huge, healthy, beautiful, perfect in every way. The only problems I had afterward (other than being really sore and that mean old nurse making me walk 10 feet to the chair) was the pain relief the doctors/nurses at the hospital opted to give me when I told them I was in extreme pain. First they gave me a shot of Ibuprofen, which did absolutely nothing for the pain. Then they gave me a morphine drip. This was horrible. It gave me the dry heaves. After you've just had major surgery on your stomach, dry heaves are not the most pleasant thing to experience to say the least! FINALLY they gave me Lorcet, which was wonderful. I could even walk again.
There was only one thing I wish I hadn't heard/experienced. One of the nurses commenting that I must have had GD since my child was so big. I did, however, inform her that I did NOT have gd and that my doctor was very conscious that I was at risk and monitored me throughout.
Although I possibly could have delivered naturally, who knows when it would have been? My mother's pregnancy with myself was a whole month late. And as far as having a big child, neither my husband nor I were what you would call small----me at 8 lbs. 15 oz. and DH at 8 lbs. Although I could have gone past 42 weeks to compete with the woman from India who had a 15 lbs. child, I am not one of those women who thinks of herself as a failure for having a c/s. I am relieved that I didn't have a long labor. A long induction, yes, but not painful, and I caught up on some of my reading.
I am pregnant again (this time planned). I weigh 220 lbs. At my first visit, my doctor never mentioned wt. gain, but I did ask. He stated that I could gain as little as 10 lbs. and have a healthy 8 lbs. baby. So that is my goal---to just eat normally because I know I am already getting the extra calories (that I didn't need before) that I need now. I just don't want to gain 50 lbs. again---yuck. And we have decided to have another c/s. Doctor gave me the choice but also told me I didn't have to decide for a long time. My response was, "I didn't go into labor the first time, why would I start now?" I guess I don't deal so well with the unknown and would much rather have everything planned down to the last detail.
Anna's Story (PCOS, PIH, induction, malposition, TOL c/s)
Kmom's Notes: Anna feels that her doctor wrongly attributed her blood pressure in pregnancy to "chronic hypertension" because of her size. In fact, her blood pressure was normal before pregnancy, was normal in the first several visits, and then started to rise. However, when she asked about pre-eclampsia, he told her she had chronic hypertension and she felt that this assumption was based on her size and not on the facts. After her pregnancy, her follow-up visits record very normal blood pressure readings. Obviously, she did not have chronic hypertension, and the higher BP was due to pregnancy.
This was Anna's second child. Her first had been born by cesarean, and she was hoping for a Vaginal Birth After Cesarean this time. Because of her rising BP, Anna's labor had to be induced, which strongly lowers the chance for VBAC in most cases. However, women *do* have VBACs with induction; unfortunately, her baby was slightly malpositioned, which made it difficult to be born vaginally. Because the doctor did not know how to help the baby re-position, a repeat cesarean became the wisest choice at that point.
Anna showed great strength of character by demanding that the anesthesiologist re-do her anesthesia for the cesarean! All along, they were not taking her seriously when she told them she was not getting good relief with the epidural. They also did not take her seriously because their monitors showed her contractions weren't very strong. (Many large women report that contraction monitors do not accurately measure the strength of their contractions.) When the anesthesiologist tried to tell her that her epidural was sufficiently strong for a cesarean, she fought back and PROVED that she still had feeling and needed more. Reluctantly (because doing a spinal after an epidural does have risks), he did a spinal, and she was able to have a 'good' cesarean experience. If she had not been so assertive, she probably would have been one of the unfortunate few (like Kmom) to feel their cesarean surgery. Standing up for herself like this in the face of their disbelief was amazing.
Birth Story
Having experienced secondary infertility due to PCOS and three miscarriages, we were delighted and frightened to find we were expecting again. I had pre-eclampsia in my first pregnancy, so they monitored me closely as a result.
About 4 weeks prior to the due date, having seen my blood pressure increase slowly with each visit, my
perinatologist wanted me admitted for possible delivery. My ob/gyn, who seemed
convinced (despite the fact that my first couple of BP readings with this pregnancy were
normal) that I was chronically hypertensive, disagreed. He sent me for observation to the maternity floor of the hospital, but
told the nurses that if my BP stabilized, I was to be sent home. After six
hours on my left side, I did see a bit of a decrease in BP, so they sent me home to follow up the next Tuesday with the ob/gyn.
On Tuesday, I went to my appointment, and my BP was 175/110. That was the highest it had been, and I argued with my ob that I was ready to deliver.
He begrudgingly sent me to the hospital, again for "observation". After several hours without a change in my BP, he decided to go ahead and induce
labor. Cervidil was inserted and a pitocin drip started, and just a couple of hours later, my labor began.
The nurses were wonderful. They monitored me closely, and tried very hard to encourage my plan of a natural, drug free labor and delivery. After
twelve hours of no sleep, they finally convinced me to do something for the pain. My cervix had only dilated to 3, I was progressing very slowly, and I
was already exhausted. I hadn't eaten since 6 AM the day prior, since once I was admitted to the hospital, I wasn't allowed anything but ice chips. I
agreed to some narcotic relief, the doctor decided to break my water, and I finally slept fitfully for about two hours. The pain seemed to be getting
worse, and upon inspection, I had progressed to 5 cm.
The nurse asked about an epidural, and even though I had strongly desired a natural birth, I felt
totally wiped out and needed some relief. Finally, with the epidural, the pain subsided, and I was able to get some bit of sleep. It seemed to me
that the epidural wore off quickly, and twice, the nurse called to bring someone in to give me a little more medication. The third time, with the
pain seeming to me to be very intense, a new anesthesiologist came in and told me that based on my 'strip', the contractions weren't that bad and I
should be fine with what I had. He also noted that I hadn't progressed past the 5 - 6 cm point in quite some time, and said that if the pain did
continue, I could call back. After about 45 minutes, the nurse who was taking care of me stood up for me and demanded that someone come and give me
more meds for the pain. The anesthesiologist came back, and another round of drugs was administered.
About 5 that evening, February 14th, after having been in labor about 21 hours, I felt like there was something passing - there was no pain, but I
felt for sure something was coming out of me. Seconds later, the feeling passed, and the nurse checked under my gown. She became quite frantic,
scooped up the waterproof pad that I was laying on, placed it on a table out of my view, and ran to get another nurse. I became extremely concerned, and
my husband didn't seem to know what was going on, and when the other nurse came in, they both agreed that my doctor needed to be called immediately.
Apparently, I passed an extremely large blood clot, and after the doctor came, he deemed me okay to continue with the labor.
After several more bouts of trying to convince people that my epidural wasn't working, and the pain was really bad, the nurse confirmed that my
labor seemed to have stalled. I had been at the 6 - 7 cm point for a long time, so the doctor was called in. At 2 AM on February 15th, the decision
was made by the doctor, myself and my husband to go ahead with the c-section. The baby's head wasn't in position, and I was so exhausted that
I felt if the time to push came, I'd be in a terrible predicament. The anesthesiologist tried to convince me that my epidural was just fine, but I
proved to him that my feet and legs were totally feeling, and the contractions were absolutely being felt. I refused to go into surgery until
something else could be done, so he agreed to a spinal. I am certain that had I not demanded something else, I would have felt the scalpel make the
cut.
At 2:34 AM, on Thursday, February 15th, after 31 hours of labor, our second
daughter was born via c-section. She had APGARS of 9 and 9, and after a few minutes of introductions, she was taken to the nursery. She
remained there for a few hours. I insisted on stitches instead of staples, so I didn't have to have the staples removed, which I found uncomfortable
after my first c-section. She and I went home four days after surgery, and except some minor drainage from the incision, I healed well.
I believe that the ob/gyn made a call regarding my increasing BP based on my weight. I kept close track of my BP, and I know it was normal up until
about 4 months into my pregnancy. I learned during this labor and delivery that if you don't speak up, you won't get what you want. I hope I remember
the lesson in other areas of my life!
GAMom's Story (high blood pressure, PROM, transverse malposition, c/s)
Kmom's Notes: This mom has not been evaluated for either PCOS or thrombophilia but may have some autoimmune problems affecting her fertility; test results have been contradictory. Progesterone supplements in the beginning of pregnancy seem to have helped this pregnancy continue. She also took low-dose aspirin for part of the pregnancy.
In a follow-up question, she noted that the hospital did not tell her to have her staples out at 3-4 days; she waited until her 2 week postpartum checkup to have them out! Ouch.
Birth Story
My husband and I had 3 miscarriages (all between 8-10 weeks). We really wanted a baby. My OB-GYN was great. He immediately put me on progesterone suppositories due to prior miscarriages. We had our first ultrasound at 7 weeks. You could see the sac and heart forming. Our next ultrasound was at 15 weeks and you could see the babies heart beat. I was SOOO relieved. My husband was great. I still didn't want to get all my hopes up. We got pregnant when we weren't supposed to. It had only been 2.5 months since our last miscarriage and the doc wanted to run some tests. Oops! :-) We had our first round of tests and it came back with levels increased. Our doctor informed us that it was probably just a false positive but sent us to a perinatologist anyway. We saw him once a month for quite a few months. Boy, do we have great ultrasound pictures. Our baby girl developed quite rapidly over the time. All measurements were great and on target. Two amnios were attempted but the needle wasn't long enough. And MAN, did they hurt!!!! They monitored closely and took precise measurements to ensure the baby was okay.
We were finally released from him and seeing our doc every two weeks. Everything was fine. Our baby had been head down since January at every visit. My blood pressure starting to rise a little to about 140/80 and 150/90 toward the 33 week. My doc put me on bed rest and then it soared higher. He released me back to work and it was fine. At the next visit it was a little higher ( I was seeing him every week now) and it put me on home rest, not bed rest. It did much better. I went out to dinner with my husband on Friday night and that night my water broke. It was just leaking and I really couldn't tell much difference between that and going to the bathroom a good bit. By morning around 8,, we called the doctor and he sent us to the hospital. My water had definitely broke.
Because it had been broken for a while they wanted me on bed rest there. They hooked me up to all the monitors and the baby was fine, but I was not in labor. They did an ultrasound and she had turned transverse. All things considered, we opted for the c-section. The epidural was easy and I was awake for the entire thing. My beautiful baby girl was born that night at 8:30. She was healthy w/ apgars of 8/9. She roomed in w/ us for Sunday and Monday. Monday night I put her in the nursery because we were going home on Tuesday. She choked on them (they fed her a bottle!) and turned blue. As upset as I was, it ended up being good because she needed oxygen. Her O2 levels were in the mid 80's. They put her in NICU and gave her antibiotics, oxygen, and lots of tests. She also had to go under the bili lights after that test came back. I was in there as much as they would allow. She nursed well, but I never did have milk that came in. She got a lot of colostrum though.
Within three days she went to the intermediate nursery on an apnea monitor and oxygen. they couldn't wean her off the oxygen and she had a few apnea episodes. After it was finalized that her lungs just weren't completely developed because of her prematurity and high birth weight for her prematurity, we PITCHED a big fit. To make a long story short, she came home on oxygen and has been great ever since. She is now 8.5 months old and still on the monitor, but no oxygen since 1 1/2 months. She now weights 20 pounds, 29 inches tall and is a very HEALTHY baby girl.
I wish all the supersize moms had as great a doctor and experience as we did.
Jen C's Story (induction, unknown malposition, c/s)
Kmom's Notes: Again, classic signs of malposition that the OB missed. Days of 'false labor', very intense labor pains, uneven dilation, feeling pressure despite an epidural, early need to push, fetal distress, etc. Unfortunately, the doctor blamed the problem on the 'layers of fat' keeping the baby from going through the pelvis (what nonsense!) instead of recognizing the baby's obvious malposition. She then told the mom that if she lost weight, she 'might' be able to have a baby vaginally. Although the doctor is almost certainly meaning well, it is yet another form of underlying fat-phobic attitudes. Although a doctor may not show any overt fat prejudice, there still may be underlying assumptions that reflect unconscious size bias. Assuming that layers of fat can keep a baby from coming through is indeed size-phobic. Women much larger than this mom have had vaginal births!
Birth Story
My original due date was March 6th. My OB was supposedly the best where I am from; my family doctor referred me to her. I kept having false labor and the doctor kept and eye on the baby's guessed weight (she thought the baby was between 7-8 lbs). She decided not to induce as I had no prior problems in my pregnancy. I had no PIH, no GD, no edema, nothing. But I did have horrible morning sickness, which caused me to lose about 15-20 lbs in my first trimester. I had anemia, which I was put on iron pills for, and I had low cholesterol. In the end I had acid reflux so bad it would keep me up at night (I never had it before my daughter, and to this day there are certain foods I cannot eat without taking an antacid prior to eating it). Generally I was very lucky, a very uncomplicated pregnancy. My hope was to have this baby vaginally. Not once did it cross my mind that I would have to have a cesarean----boy was I wrong!
I had 'false labor' on March 13th and went for the hospital for the 4th time, only to be told it was seriously trapped gas, which I was given some nasty liquid for. They asked me if I wanted to stay overnight or come back in the morning for a Non-Stress Test. I decided to go home and tried to sleep with it on my mind. I got to the hospital the next day, had the NST which proved the baby wasn't doing so good in her environment, so my doctor called back the nurses and told them she wanted to have an induction that day (the original induction was supposed to be the next day). Around 11:30 a.m. she came in and asked how everything was going. I told her I was miserable and just wanted to have the baby already, so she broke the bag of waters and started me on pitocin and had the antibiotics for Group B started as well. [Kmom note: Breaking the bag of waters probably set the baby's malposition for good and made it very hard to resolve.]
The major contractions didn't kick in until 1:30 p.m., although right when she broke the bag of waters I had a major contraction. She joked and told me that was what a REAL contraction felt like (my doc was kind of cold, so this little joke was a surprise to me and even made me smile). I decided on Fentanyl for the pain; I had already gone over the birthing plan with my doctor and told her NO EPIDURAL! The pain became too intense for me and I remembered what one of my friends had told me---that you cannot get the epidural after you're dilated so many cms. I was about 4 or 5 and I told them I wanted the epidural, which shocked my OB but she got the anesthesiologist in there and I had no more pain. UNTIL the baby started descending later on and I kept telling my absolutely wonderful and caring nurses that I felt like I was 'going to pee'. They checked the catheter and were puzzled. The anesthesiologist upped my dosage of epidural but it did no good. By this time I was shaking, my BP was extremely low, and I was so cold the nurse brought in 4 warmed blankets and covered me and turned the heater on ('transition!').
I kept complaining about having to go pee, the nurses were still puzzled and still checking my catheter when I finally shouted, "You don't understand, I have to PUSH!" They checked me once again and said that I was dilating strangely (had been at 6.5 cm for a couple of hours), more so on the left side than the right side. Apparently the left side was completely effaced but the right side wasn't. One nurse thought I was dilated 8 cm--I was overjoyed to hear that, thinking only 2 more cm to go! But another nurse came in and told them I was still only 6.5 cm. I was tired and frustrated when the baby's heartbeat started dropping and my OB said to me, "We're going to have to do a cesarean, the baby's in distress." I asked her why the baby wasn't progressing and she told me that the baby's head wasn't going through my pelvis, and told me that layers of fat were (possibly) stopping her from descending. Being in labor and tired, I totally misread/misinterpreted what my OB was saying and started crying, saying I didn't want a cesarean.
I was prepped for a cesarean and taken to the OR across the hall from my room. It seemed like forever that they were prepping me and I kept asking where my fiancé was because he wasn't by my side. When he got in there, the OB asked me, "Can you feel us cutting into you?" and I told her no. By 9:22 p.m. my daughter was born. She wasn't breathing at first so they had to give her oxygen. Her Apgars were 4 and 7. I got to see a glimpse of her for about 3 minutes (this really upsets me to this day) and then she was whisked away to the NICU, and I was sewn up and wheeled to recovery. In recovery, I was so drugged up I had no clue what was going on. My nurses were constantly checking on me due to the high fever I had (105 degrees). [Kmom note: A fever is very common after an epidural.] Luckily it went away pretty quickly and I recovered with a 'score' of 100%. The nurse attending told me she had never seen anyone get a perfect score on their recovery and was quite impressed. All I wanted was to see my baby! Four hours later I got my wish, but the memory is non-existent since I was on antibiotics, pitocin and morphine.
Getting up the next morning to walk wasn't too easy. I hunched over and protected my stomach, thinking my guts were going to fall out. But my doctor did a wonderful job. Both of us were allowed to leave the hospital 3 days after her birth. I tried breastfeeding her in the hospital but I was nervous as my mother (who didn't really breastfeed either myself or my younger sister) kept telling me 'how to' breastfeed my daughter, not to mention my daughter wasn't too happy that it wasn't coming out fast enough for her. So when I got home, I reluctantly gave her a bottle of formula, my fiance next to me, my father and his girlfriend watching. She was so happy that she was getting something and seemed content. It really relieved me. I pumped for 2 weeks thereafter, and eventually couldn't make a schedule and my milk dried up. She is not 1 year old and not quite walking yet, but very active and very squirmy.
I have plans to have another child. When I saw my OB I asked her what the possibility of having a VBAC was. She told me that it was fine, as long as the baby isn't over 7 lbs. [Kmom: Baloney! The critical issue is not the baby's size, but getting it positioned well!] She also told me (not naggingly, I might add) that if I lost the weight before having my next one, I may be able to go through a VBAC with a bigger baby. Although I thought she was the best possible doctor for my cesarean situation, I didn't care too much for her bedside manner and I hope to find a more suitable doctor. I don't know if she was fat-phobic; she never really commented on my weight, but that comment she made right before the cesarean still unsettles me a bit. I am just hoping that I can find someone who is very fat-friendly and willing to work with me. [Kmom: She should try a midwife first. Although there are bad apples in any barrel, midwives are much more likely to be size-friendly, and research shows that she would have a greater chance for a VBAC with a midwife.]
Polly's Story (PIH, elective c/s)
Kmom's Notes:
Birth Story
While I was pregnant, I visited this site many times and I often read the testimonials of other larger-than-average women who had delivered babies. I hope that my simple words can calm you like those stories did me.
I lost over 100 lbs. before I got pregnant by using a liquid diet. I weighed 324 and lost to 217 lbs. When my husband and I tried to get pregnant, it took only two months. We were thrilled! I went to a high-risk OB because he took my insurance and because I had a history of hypertension, although at the time of conception my pressure was normal. It was an extremely wonderful experience. He NEVER mentioned my weight or my weight gain as a problem during my pregnancy. He was always concerned about my history of high blood pressure, but when that came to pass, his attention to it was perfect. Even though I was 36 at the time, I refused all prenatal testing. I knew that God's hand was on this and whatever was going to happen was His will. My husband and I put our faith in Him and opted to pass on all of the testing.
The nurses were wonderful in his office. I often had to remind the lab techs to use a larger blood pressure cuff on me to get a more accurate reading, but they soon remembered on their own. I had to go more often than most women due to my rising blood pressure. I also had more sonograms than usual due to the uncertainty of my conception date. (As is often the case with some women with irregular periods, I had trouble dating my due date. The early sonograms turned out to be beneficial as they are more accurate than later ones!)
As my blood pressure was 190/100 or most often 150/90, I went to the doctor more often. I had to often go through testing (blood work, urine tests, ultrasound, and fetal monitoring) to make sure that it was not toxemia. Mine never was. In the 8th month, I began going to the doctor twice weekly and finally had to start doing fetal monitoring for about one hour twice weekly. It was the most uncomfortable thing that I have EVER experienced! However, it is so reassuring to hear that little heartbeat and 'hear' him moving.
Anyway, four weeks before I was due, my doctor put me on limited activity and I quit work to stay close to home. After several visits to the hospital for hours of fetal monitoring, my doctor, husband, and I decided to do a c/s one day when my pressure was 160/90. I was 38 weeks. My doctor was afraid to induce labor because nurses had a horrible time tracking my son's heart rate because he moved so much. (Turned out I had too much amniotic fluid which gave him room to swim! While this is not a good thing, my doctor said that in my case it was not alarming.) He did not want to give me medications and not be able to tell the effects on the baby. So within an hour I was cleaned up and ready for a c/s. I had absolutely NO problems. The procedure went great, the baby was (and is) fine, and I had NO pain whatsoever.
During my visits to the hospital and doctor's office I never encountered any discrimination of any kind. All of the equipment fit my body type fine except for the pressure cuff. (I have since learned that it isn't that uncommon for people to need the large size cuff.) All of the hospital gowns, lovely disposable undies, and surgical equipment were fine. I even worried about getting onto and off of the surgery table. That went fine. Those nurses are used to women flopping here and there. There is even a special 'board' to scoot you from the c/s table back onto the gurney.
I think it is so important to find a doctor who you are comfortable with and who is not judging you. I am the type to listen to doctors and think they know everything. I know that some of you are not that way. But if you are like me and hinge on every word of a doctor, I think that it is VITAL that you find one who can make you feel comfortable and who is experienced with a wide range of circumstances. During my pregnancy, I thought about studies which find that overweight women have higher risks of complications. I hope and pray that your pregnancy is not haunted by such thoughts. I found great comfort and peace in knowing that God would overcome. I hope that your pregnancy and birthing is pleasant, and one day a fond memory for your family.
Elayne's Story (PCOS, triplets!, preemies, c/s)
Kmom's Notes:
Birth Story
We knew going into trying to conceive that things would be
difficult. I knew at 17 that I didn't ovulate, and I'd been on the pill ever
since. After nine months without a period off the pill, I started infertility
treatments, namely Clomid. I was told there was a 5% increased risk of twins,
and no mention was ever made of triplets or more. We thought twins we could
handle.
On my successful cycle, we'd gotten up to 150mg of Clomid, and the doctor said
that if it didn't work this time we'd have to go up to the injectible drugs. But
I did have a good follicle, and the doctors decided to give me an HCG injection
to induce ovulation. Nobody bothered to tell me this could increase the risk of
multiples.
I tested positive, and made my first appointment with the midwife I had selected
for my homebirth. At 5 weeks, I had some cramping and bleeding on a business
trip, so when I got back I scheduled an ultrasound with my OB to check on it.
We saw four sacs and three heartbeats. Apparently, I conceived quadruplets and
then miscarried one, which accounted for the bleeding.
Things were pretty uneventful for a while (if you can call triplets uneventful).
I was forced out of my job and just took it easy, little to no physical
activity, limited errands, etc. At 20 weeks, when I went for a Level II
ultrasound, they discovered my cervix had dilated to 1.5cm. I wasn't
having contractions, just uterine irritability, so they decided to just do a
cerclage. I was on and off bedrest after that. Every time they let me off
bedrest, I started having contractions. I'd come in to the hospital, they'd give
me IV fluids and sometimes keep me overnight, then send me home on bedrest
again. Every time I went to the hospital, they put me on the toco monitors, but
no contractions ever registered, regardless of what I was feeling.
At 24 weeks, I began developing gestational diabetes. With diabetes running
rampant in my family tree, and being hypoglycemic myself, I am very familiar
with blood sugars and testing. I already had my own monitor, more of a toy
before but used seriously now. I checked my fasting sugars every day, and
occasionally checked after meals. At 24 weeks, I began getting very high
readings after meals, 160+. That week, I also had sugar in my urine. Despite all
this, my OB insisted that it was impossible to detect or even develop diabetes
before 28 weeks, and he refused to test me. Knowing better, I put myself on a
strict diabetic diet, allowing for multiple gestation, and kept track of my
sugars. This was very difficult in the hospital, though, because I couldn't
control my diet. More than that, nobody seemed to understand how much a triplet
mom needs to eat to have big healthy babies, regardless of her size.
At 26 weeks, I went into full pre-term labor. At first I thought it was gas
pains, because it was all in my back. A couple of hours later, I realized that
gas pains don't come every seven minutes on the dot, and the contractions also
started to radiate across my belly. We went into the hospital, and they
immediately put me on the toco monitor, and spent the usual hour trying to catch
all three babies on the strip at once (never happened). As usual, no
contractions registered on the monitor. They started to blow me off, and I
protested that I was really feeling strong contractions. The nurses tried to
feel them through my belly, but they said they couldn't feel anything. I asked
them to please check my cervix, like they had always done every time before.
They refused. Instead, they sent me home on a sedative, Seconal, treating me
like I was nuts. The sedative knocked me into a daze. I was still feeling
contractions, and just barely aware enough to register the times (moving through
6 minutes into 5 minutes apart during the night), but I wasn't coherent enough
to think, "Gee, maybe I should call another doctor or go back to the
hospital."
By the time the Seconal wore off the next morning, my contractions were very
strong, 5 minutes apart. I still waited a little while, out of pure
sheepishness, because after being sent home the night before I believed them, I
thought surely I was imagining it. That morning, though, I started suddenly
bleeding heavily, and we did go back to the hospital. Sure enough, my cerclage
had ripped out. Not only that, but I was dilated to 5 cm already. Even with all
of this, though, my contractions, though painful, STILL never registered on the
toco monitor. They admitted me and put me on bedrest, and gave me magnesium
sulfate, terbutaline, and antibiotics and steroids for the babies. The
tocolytics worked almost immediately, shutting my contractions down to nothing.
Unfortunately, it was too late. I dilated to 6 cm before the drugs kicked in,
and 24 hours later my water broke.
There was no hope for a vaginal birth of triplets, certainly not at 26 weeks.
They were too small and fragile to really withstand the stress of a vaginal
birth. So we went for an urgent c-section. The anesthesiologist came to talk
with me beforehand, explaining how the spinal worked, all of which I knew after
having a spinal for my cerclage. I told her about the spinal wearing off before
I even left the operating room last time, and added that painkillers in general
have little to no effect on me. She blew me off (like everybody else), telling
me not to worry.
We went into surgery at about 11:00, and my babies were born at 12:09, 12:09,
and 12:10, about 30 seconds apart. I got to touch the girls briefly as they went
by. My boy needed resuscitation more urgently, so I only got to see him in the
portable incubator before he was taken upstairs. By luck, my L&D nurse had a
student nurse working with her that day. The student had to be there for
the section, but couldn't do anything. So we gave her a camera, and she took a
ton of pictures of the births. Bloody, but they're the only pictures I have of
my babies not attached to anything for the next three months.
By the time my third baby was born, I was beginning to feel more than I should.
By the time they were stitching me up, I felt every stitch and every twitch.
They made my husband leave the room, but he saw them pump four or five drugs
into my IV before he did. None of them really worked. They finally gave me
Versed, so the end is a little hazy...yet I still remember a good deal of it.
On the upside, I did get a letter of apology and reference from that
anesthesiologist, for me to show at any future surgeries.
Breastfeeding was a complete failure. Not on my part; I was a milch cow. I was
putting out 50 ounces a day when I quit. I tried and tried and tried to have a
"No Nipples" order put on the babies' charts, because I was concerned
about that interfering with breastfeeding. The hospital staff insisted on giving
them bottles anyway. They breastfed exclusively for two weeks before getting
their first bottle, and they were doing well, getting latched on and getting
decent amounts of milk out. The hospital still insisted, and the very day they
got their first bottle, they refused the breast. I continued to pump until they
came home, but with no help I did not have enough time to pump and bottlefeed.
We now have one baby with cerebral palsy, and the other two have a tendency to
wheeze and catch bronchitis from every little cold, which we understand is a
result of their having been on ventilators for almost two weeks after birth.
Other than that, fortunately, they are doing well. We're working on getting
pregnant again, hopefully with only one baby this time. I'm taking Glucophage to
control my PCOS, and it seems to be working well.
My babies' website, www.huntfamilyhome.net,
has even more information about the pregnancy and birth.
Analisa Norris Roche's Story (fraternal twins, bedrest, breech, c/s)
Birth Story
Went in for my 35-week checkup the morning of December 24. Found out I was about 2 cm. dilated and 60% effaced. I had been on bedrest until about two weeks previous, so had a lot of errands that hadn't been run. Eric and I did a few of them on the way home while Mom was home with Meg. Ian, Tony, Mikki, and Andrew showed up shortly for Christmas shortly after Eric and I got home, and we spent the afternoon hanging out, talking, messing around, enjoying each other for the first visit in a long time. I kept wondering on and off that day if I was leaking amniotic fluid since that's how my labor with Meg had started, and I felt wetter than usual. Got up to go to the bathroom around 8:30 pm and had a big burst of fluid, so then I was sure. I sat on the toilet and slammed the wall with my fist and screamed profanities b/c I was upset that it was so early (only 35 weeks 2 days). Started crying, told Eric, told the family, called my OB who told me to get in.
We were pretty concerned about the risk of cord prolapse since Patrick was presenting foot-first, so we rushed. I was glad to hear that my own OB (in a practice of three) was the one on call that night. I was quickly checked in and then it took a very nerve-wracking 2-1/2 hours to do all the surgical prep stuff. Asked me a ton of questions, signed releases, Eric changed into scrubs, blah, blah, etc. I had plenty of time to get more and more nervous since this was my first Cesarean, my first epidural, etc. Finally wheeled into the operating room around 10:30 pm. Epidural administered, probably the most unpleasant part of the whole experience. Fortunately, I was allowed to hold onto Eric while it was done, which undoubtedly helped a lot.
Eric then sat by my head while they cut me open. Neither of us could see anything b/c of the draping. I felt only the slightest tugging sensations. They told him when to stand up to take pictures, which didn't turn out very well due to the poor angle he was at, but that's all they would allow. Patrick was born at 10:54 pm and Catherine at 10:55 pm. Eric made sure I still wanted him to go with the babies instead of staying with me, which I did. They were taken into an adjacent room since the operating room didn't have enough space for all the people and equipment for two babies. Eric came back briefly to tell me their weights (4 lb. 7 oz. and 4 lb. 8 oz.) I was so depressed at that point b/c my babies were so small and I couldn't hold them and they had to be taken to the NICU while I was sewn up. I got to look at them really briefly, but Catherine's breathing was rapid and shallow so they were in a hurry to get her moving. The stitching felt like it took forever with me there in the OR and Eric and my babies up in intensive care. Then they wheeled me to recovery just after midnight.
I chatted with the nurse there and tried to be upbeat. I asked
for Patrick since he was quickly sent to the regular nursery, but I was told I
couldn't see him until I had spent two hours in recovery! Eric came down to
update me and went quickly back to Catherine (who received Erythromycin despite
our having declined it, grrr). I was really antsy and bored in recovery, wide
awake, etc. I asked the nurse what I had to do to have a pump ready in my
postpartum room since the babies were going to be too small to nurse, and that
wonderful woman had one waiting for me, all set up to use, by the time I got up
there. I looked around and then asked for a magazine to read to try to take my
eyes off the really really slow-moving clock on the wall across from me, and she
went in search of something. Came back with some Parenting drivel, which I
willingly browsed. Next time Eric came down he went to the car to get my novel.
I was later told I was the first person they ever had ask for something to read
in recovery, which really surprised me!
Catherine was blessedly out of the NICU by the time I was sent upstairs around 2
am so I was then able to hold and try (unsuccessfully) to nurse my babies...and
my life as a twin mom began! We were in the hospital four days, my recovery was
easy and fast, and the babies came home with us on December 28! (Nice side note:
the whole visiting family brought Christmas dinner and gifts to our hospital
room the next day).
Breastfeeding got off to a rough start since the babies were too small and too sleepy to nurse well. I pumped around the clock and Eric finger-fed them for about two weeks. Every two hours I would spend two minutes pumping, take one baby and work on nursing, hand that baby over to Eric, take the other baby and work on nursing, hand that baby over to Eric, then pump for 20 minutes. It was exhausting, but well worth it. Within several weeks they were champion breastfeeders, impressing several lactation consultants, and we haven't looked back since!
Julie's Story (size-phobic treatment, 3 c/s including a TOL c/s)
Kmom's Notes: This is the story of Julie's three cesareans. The first was probably due to a malposition, the second was outrageously unnecessary (due to size-phobia) and potentially endangered her child, and the third (after a trial of labor) probably was necessary due to knots in the baby's umbilical cord.
This is also the story of Julie's journey towards taking charge of her life, of finding more respectful care and having a say in her birth choices, and of empowering herself. Even though she didn't get her desired VBAC, her birthing choices were much more empowered and meaningful, and although she still second-guesses herself and is disappointed that things took such a difficult turn, she is thrilled to have her daughter. She says, "She is an angel baby, so sweet and pleasant. I just love her to death."
Birth Story
On May 1, 2001, my third child, a daughter, was brought into this world by a cesarean birth. Her birth wasn't planned that way. In fact, I had meticulously planned a natural hospital VBAC. That did not happen, and her birth will forever be a bittersweet memory, and a constant reminder that I do not have complete control over the events in my life. This, my third birth story, actually started on Wednesday, February 26,
1992 with the birth of my first.
The Monday before, I had waddled into my city's favorite ob/gyn's office two weeks overdue, swollen, tired, and miserable. This doctor was probably the town's (a small town) favorite doctor because of his bedside manner. He told his patients exactly what they wanted to hear. He insisted that his patients call him by his first name "Jack." Later I would refer to him "Jack-the-Ripper." After my internal exam, "Jack" announced that I was 80% effaced and 2-3 centimeters dilated. I had read all the mainstream pregnancy books available so I knew exactly what he was talking about. I thought I was quite birth educated. I was elated to hear that I was a good candidate for induction.
Wednesday morning I went to the hospital happy and eager to meet my baby. I arrived at 6:00 a.m. I was shaved and given an enema. At 7:00 a.m. the nurses started the pitocin and an hour later "Jack-the Ripper" came in to break my bag of water. Shortly after, my contractions began. The pain was unbearable, and it did not completely go away between the contractions. The only positions I was allowed to labor in were lying on my left and right sides and lying flat on my back. I begged the nurses to sit up, but they were afraid that "Jack" would see me and have a fit. Under these circumstances, I labored. Every hour a nurse would come in and tell me that I had dilated another centimeter until I hit five
cms. At five my body stopped (I believe in protest).
"Jack" came in at 3:00 p.m., looked at my husband like he saw him for the first time and announced that this baby wasn't going to come out because the baby probably had shoulders like his father's. My husband is a big man-6'2', 300 pounds. He told me that he would have to give me a cesarean because I had stalled at 5
cms for several hours and all he could feel was caput coming down the birth canal. Even though I was one of two women who had admitted we would be devastated to have a cesarean in my prenatal class (strangely enough, we were the only two who ended up with cesareans), I was relieved that the pain would soon be over.
Thus at 4:38 p.m. I was cut for the first time. I had a son, nine pounds, five ounces, 21 inches long. This would begin a nine-year journey.
In my ignorance, I did not change doctors for my second child's birth. Because he told me that I could have a
VBAC, I stayed with him. However, the closer that my due date approached, the more he talked of scheduling a cesarean. Five days
past the due date he had given me (this date was 3 ½ weeks earlier than when I thought my due date should be), he pulled out the big guns.
"Jules, sweetheart, you would be a fool to have this baby vaginally," he tells me.
I replied, "Then call me a fool. I don't want another cesarean. I don't want another spinal headache, and I want to be able to hold and feed my baby before he/she is eight hours old."
He said, "Honey, you would be putting this baby's life in danger." I scheduled the cesarean that afternoon for two days later.
I walked into the hospital as if I were walking into the gas chamber. I had to remind myself that I was going to have my baby that day. Everyone around me was ecstatic, and they couldn't understand why I was so depressed. They kept telling me that I had to do what was best for the baby. "Nothing matters except a healthy baby." I felt selfish and misunderstood. Of course I wanted what was best for my baby and surgically removing my child from my body didn't feel like the right answer either.
This time the doctor ordered me to report to the hospital the night before so that I could have a good night's rest. I couldn't sleep at all. I did have the cesarean the following morning. I was terrified. As he lifted my daughter from me, he said that she wasn't the "moose" he thought she was (He told me she would weigh about nine pounds despite the fact that the ultrasound tech said that my baby looked to be between seven and eight pounds. He told her that she wasn't getting the whole baby on the screen.). He went on to say that he was glad he "took" her anyway because she had a double nuchal cord around her neck. On the videotape my pediatrician says, "I wouldn't count on that, Jack." According to my pediatrician, my daughter was four to six weeks premature judging from the look of her genitalia. Luckily, she didn't have a difficult time breathing. She weighed six and a half pounds and was 18 inches long.
I was able to immediately hold my daughter (after the nurses checked her first). In fact, I was able to hold her as they rolled us back to my room. Unlike my son, I breastfed her minutes, not hours, after her birth.
What came next was hellish. I got a spinal headache. My doctor ordered a blood patch. This is a treatment for spinal headaches in which a nurse draws some blood and the anesthesiologist injects it into your spinal fluid to "patch" the hole left from the spinal. I had to sit on the edge of the bed, roll my back toward the doctor, and be still while she injected another needle into my back. It was the same procedure that was used for the spinal except this time I had an incision from my navel to my pubic hair. (Yes, the doctor cut me
vertically, so now I have a stomach that looks like a "bum.") I didn't know what was more excruciating: the pain from the headache or the position I had to hold for several minutes because the nurse couldn't get a vein to draw the blood from. She stuck six times to get it. Even after all this, I still had the headache.
Five days later, he took out my staples, and on the way home, my incision came open. We went to the hospital. The suture tech on duty began the process of giving me Novocain shots in my incision area and discovered that a few sutures in the underneath layers had burst as well, so he had to call the doctor. I lay in the emergency room for five hours with my stomach wide open and a screaming newborn. My doctor didn't have the nerve to even repair his handiwork. Another surgeon came in to do it. I had to have another spinal, and yes, I got another headache. I didn't feel human for two months, and I had a newborn and a three-year-old to take care of.
I had made up my mind that I could never have another child. I just couldn't face another series of events that I had just experienced; however, life had other plans. I found out I was pregnant March 1998. After a month of denial, I contacted a doctor who came recommended to me by a family member. During the next three weeks, I began researching the subject of VBAC. I bought a copy of Silent Knife, and my outlook on birth was forever changed. Armed with new knowledge, I told my new doctor that the reason I changed doctors in the first place was because my last doctor patronized me and refused to let me have any say in my care. I informed him that I was an educated person and that I wanted to be included in the decisions that were made concerning my health. I also told him that I didn't think I needed either cesarean, and that I wanted to have this last child naturally. He told me that it would be my decision how I would have this child.
During the next office visit, I began asking him more questions about how he managed his VBAC births. I didn't like the answers at all. He told me that he would induce me at 38 weeks and that I would be constantly monitored. I knew from my limited reading that this was the best way to have another surgical birth. Thank God that I had bought a copy of Sheila Kitzinger's Complete Book of Pregnancy and Childbirth. In the back was a resource section that included an address and phone number for ICAN. I called the number and an angel on earth answered. Kathy Gray-Farthing. She listened to me for over an hour. I poured out my soul to her, and she understood. She sent me a copy of the Clarion and on it wrote directions on how to join the internet list. I immediately logged on, and found a group of brave women who had been and who were in the same place I was now.
I introduced myself and got a heartwarming welcome. All the women advised me to look for another caregiver. Some mentioned midwives and others mentioned homebirth. Homebirth? I didn't even know it was legal let alone a possibility. I had a lot to learn. And learn I did. I read everything I could get my hands on. I bought every natural/waterbirth videotape I could find. I was glued to the ICAN list. With each passing day I knew that I had to switch providers. I started looking for midwives. I had contacted the select few in my area (even they were 50 miles away), and because they were
CNMs who practiced with a group of doctors, their procedures weren't any different from the doctor I was going to. There were no
DEMs closer than Philadelphia or Morgantown; each a few hundred miles away from me. Even if I could have found a midwife who would take me on as a client, my husband refused to consider a homebirth. Even with all the information I gleaned from the list and from my extensive research, he could never get over the "what if?"
Then the unthinkable happened. I miscarried. With the help and support from the wonderful women at ICAN, I was able to avoid a D and C, and I was able to catch my angel as it slipped from my body. I was 13 weeks into my pregnancy. The doctor's office personnel were less than sympathetic and viewed me as a freak because I did not want to have a D and C. I never walked back in that office.
Not long after that a new OB made his appearance in our town. He bought a half page ad and he claimed that his philosophy of care was one of partnership. I made an appointment and put all my cards on the table. I told him that I would like to have another child, but I would not be scheduling a cesarean, and I would have a say in how my care was managed. I told him if he could not live with that, he could tell me now, and I would be on my way. He spent nearly hour listening to me. I told him the stories of my previous births, and he could not imagine shaving his clients, nor giving them enemas. He told me his cesarean rate was about 10% and that his VBAC rate was 80% closer to 95% when the women he cared for wanted the VBAC. He was gentle in his speech and his manners. He seemed like an answer to my prayers.
I became pregnant in August of 2000. Because I still didn't trust him (mainly because he was an MD), I lied about my due dates by two weeks so that I would not be pressured into induction. I drew up a birth plan, and he accepted all my wishes. He spent another 45 minutes with me answering all of my questions and reassuring me that although he couldn't guarantee I'd have my VBAC, he didn't see any reason why I couldn't. He even referred me to find information at one of the ICAN chapters in Cleveland. He had worked with some of the midwives there and had even been present at a few homebirths but "not in a professional manner."
Soon after I contacted Kathy G. Farthing and asked her to become my doula. She was wonderful. I immediately felt connected to her. We were in constant contact via the internet, and at times she was my anchor when I was being tossed about on the seas of hormones and emotions of pregnancy.
I surrounded myself with positive birth stories. I read every natural birth book I could order from the internet. I bought a birth ball so that I could sit on it to keep my baby in a favorable position. I read the internet list faithfully. I rejoiced when the women who seemed like sisters to me received their empowered births and cried when they did not.
After my first trimester, I began drinking Red Raspberry Leaf Tea tea and taking
Evening Primrose Oil capsules orally at the beginning of my pregnancy and vaginally at the end.
In April, I went to the ICAN Conference. I had hoped I would go into labor there. Talk about the dream team of birth teams! Unfortunately, that would not happen. But I did meet some wonderful women. I would go into labor one week later, April 30, 2001. I had been cramping at night for the past 2-3 weeks. I would wake up and the cramps would go away. That morning they didn't seem to be stopping, but they weren't getting any stronger either. I went to work anyway. (I am a high school teacher.)
By 11:00, I noticed that the cramps were regular. They would come about every 10 minutes. I think I was in denial. I had never gone into labor on my own before, and I was a week ahead of my due date. By 1:00 p. m., I could no longer ignore my body. I told my principal that I was in labor. The look on his face was priceless. He wanted to call an ambulance, but I told him that I was driving home myself. The drive home was a bit interesting. It was a good thing that I didn't live too far from the school. I called my mom to have her pick up my older children at school, and then I called my husband to come home and we labored together, slow dancing, walking hand in hand, and rocking on the birth ball. I called Kathy to give her a heads up, and she told me she'd come when I was ready for her. I was ready about 5:00. She arrived about 6:15 with my sister. We labored at home for another hour or so. My contractions were coming about every couple of minutes, and I didn't want to spend transition in the car. We got to the hospital and I refused the wheelchair. I think having Kathy there gave me the courage to buck the system. Plus, my hospital had never had a patient with a doula so I think they were a bit taken aback.
We go to the maternity floor and as they were hooking my up to the external monitor, my water broke. It was thick green pea soup. My heart sank. In all of my birth scenarios, this was something that I never thought would happen. After this, I watched as one by one my natural birth wishes slipped out of my hand. Even though my doctor was great, the hospital was not and the nurses were less than wonderful. One of them was even sadistic.
Because of the meconium, I had to labor in bed, I had to have an amnio-infusion, and a hep-lock. I felt as though my body were hosting a three-ring circus. Despite the deplorable conditions, my birth team helped me build a safe place. Even though I was in bed, I used my birth ball, I continued to use different positions such as hands and knees, sitting in semi-squats, etc. I was 4
cms when I arrived and I had hit 8 cms by 10:00 or 11:00 p m. Every time my doctor would come in he would tell me I was going wonderfully and that he was confident that I was "going to do this." He was impressed by Kathy. He later asked me for some of her business cards so that he could give them to his patients.
Transition was hard, but I remembered something that Kathy had said in her conference seminar the week before, "Anyone can take any type of pain for two minutes at a time." What I remembered most was the dry heaves I had. The nurses wanted to give me something for the nausea, but I knew that sometimes throwing-up could help with dilation so I refused. I stayed at 8
cms all night long, but my doctor never gave me any inkling that I was running out of time. As long as the baby was doing fine, he just left me to do my thing.
Sometime during the night, the baby's heart rate didn't respond well to one of my contractions. Instead of rushing me to the operating room, he performed a blood-gas test on her and the test came back fine, and so I labored until the next morning. At around 11:00 a m, my contractions were weakening. He wanted to give me pit. He knew that I did not want to have pitocin. I asked to talk to Kathy and my husband, and we agreed that perhaps pit would help me to dilate, since my uterus was tired and pit was better than a section. He started the pit on the lowest dose and only gave me enough to allow my body to respond. These contractions were much gentler than those I experienced with my son's birth.
Not long after, my daughter began showing signs of distress. The nurses were having me lie on my left side, on my right side, on hands and knees. Her heart rate was not coming back up after my contractions. I was still at 8
cms. The doctor was called in and he asked me what I wanted to do. I was exhausted. I had spent the last 12 hours in transition, shaking, dry-heaving,
hiccupping, etc. I looked at Kathy, knowing she would not let me give up too soon, and said that I couldn't do this anymore. The doctor told me he was sorry, and I was prepped for surgery.
Kathy and my husband went into the operating room with me. [This time the spinal
worked without a headache afterwards.] Despite some argument from one of the nurses, my husband filmed the birth of my daughter and Kathy took some awesome pictures. My daughter was born with 2 true knots in her umbilical cord and apgars of 3 and 7. She had to be intubated and bagged. I wasn't able to hold her until 10:00 p m that night because she was in observation. I still feel terribly guilty about how she was treated upon her entrance into this world.
My deepest regret is not fighting hard enough for a homebirth. I believe that I would have been able to dilate if I had been permitted to walk around. Why I just didn't is beyond me. What would they have done to me, sent me home? I should have just gotten out of be and said, "Oops, I forgot." I believe that the meconium wouldn't have been such a big deal if I had been able to deliver vaginally. I still do not know what to think of the knots in her cord. Would they have tightened as I pushed? Only God knows, but I believe in my heart having her at home would have been better for the both of us.
So what I learned was that despite my careful planning, all of my reading, and finding the "perfect" doctor, going to a medically conservative hospital was what mattered the most. As Nancy Wainer says, "Don't go to a Mexican restaurant if you want sushi."
Pam K's Story (false gd diagnosis, induced for suspected macrosomia, c/s; postdates induction, c/s, then VBA2C)
Kmom's Notes: This is typical treatment for larger women in many ways. Because bigger moms do have slightly larger babies as a group (and obesity is a risk factor for really big babies), doctors often estimate that their babies are going to be huge. In the first story, the doctors kept raising the estimated birth weight; from 8 lbs., to 9 lbs., to 10 lbs., then to 11 lbs. They tried to talk her into an elective cesarean, but when she refused they induced for suspected macrosomia. As is so often the case, the induction ended in a cesarean, and the baby was not macrosomic after all.
Despite having a really wonderful OB for her second pregnancy, Pam ended up induced for post-dates with baby #2. Inductions of VBACs often end in cesarean, and hers did too. As she discusses below, she had a difficult experience with a nasty spinal headache afterwards.
With baby #3, Pam chose homebirth, with unofficial back-up from her wonderful OB. She became very proactive about nutrition, and she occasionally monitored her blood sugar to be sure it was still normal (it was). In this pregnancy she did not go "postdates" and feels that perhaps some nutritional changes were part of that, although we'll never know for sure. Pam went on to have a VBA2C at home, in the water! She chose a hands-and-knees position to push out her baby, which often is a good position for larger women.
Pam is a doula who works to help support other women in their births, and is also a member of ICAN, the International Cesarean Awareness Network. Choosing truly VBAC-supportive providers was a key part of her preparation for baby #3. Had she seen a traditional OB, she almost certainly would have been told she had no chance at a VBAC, between being supersized and her history of a "failed" trial of labor, possible GD status, borderline "big" babies, and tendency to go postdates. Yet she went on to have a wonderful VBA2C anyhow. It's important to remember that many women with one "failed" trial of labor do go on to have VBACs later on, and that women of all sizes can have VBACs.
Birth Story
Birth #1: My pregnancy as a whole was non-eventful until the end of my sixth month when I "failed" the GTT and was labeled a gestational diabetic. This of course
skyrocketed me in to the high risk category and I spent the remaining 3 months testing my blood levels four times a day and
following an eating program that controlled my supposed GD quite nicely. (Subsequent review of
my records revealed that I was indeed misdiagnosed. Also, despite the fact that
I informed anyone who walked into my room that I was GD, my levels were never once tested over the entire time I was
hospitalized.)
My OB practice was a two doctor partnership with a third back-up for emergency or
unusual situations. The primary OB, a woman, was very accepting of my desire for a natural birth and
though I know she did not agree with all my plans, did not overtly discourage or sabotage me. However, At 38 weeks
she informed me she would be leaving town in two weeks for Easter and proceeded to do an unauthorized membrane strip. I responded not at all--not even a cramp--but she assured me I would deliver before she returned from
her vacation. I made my next appointment with her partner who was not nearly as encouraging as she was and indeed seemed to be a bit hung up on my
weight. However, my 39 week Bio Physical Profile was perfect, I had dilated to 2 cm and there was no reason to hurry things along.
At 40w6 day I had another BPP,
again perfect, but this time the perinatologist called my doctor and said I was "ready" as he estimated the baby to be over 11 pounds. (This man never
ever spoke to me face to face. He would talk to my husband, to my doctor, and to the technician if no one else was there--all in my presence, but
never to me) Each week, the estimated weight of the baby had crept up--at first it was "over 8 pounds at term", then "over 9", "over 10". Over 11
made me a bit nervous, and I agreed to an induction if my cervix had shown no signs of progressing. Surprisingly (not) I was still at 2 cm, so after a
great dinner, my husband and I headed into the hospital the Thursday night before Easter for
Cervadil. My doctor (the male) showed up and offered me a cesarean because of my size and GD diagnoses and estimated weight of baby.
I was very surprised but refused graciously. I did not see him again until my daughter was delivered.
Friday morning, 41 weeks pregnant, I truly believed I would have this baby with no pain medication and be home in time for Easter dinner. The pitocin
was started several hours later than they had told me, but I did manage to have a few mild contractions and had a fairly nice day visiting with out of
town friends and hanging with my husband. My doula was in and out, finishing up errands so she would be
available when I needed her. Finally, around 9 o'clock Friday night, with no change whatsoever, the pit was
discontinued. Of course, I had not been fed all day and the nurses were not in the least bit
concerned about that, so our friends ordered me a pizza and shared some birthday cake from my favorite bakery. I was then moved to a
larger room. Sent everyone home around 11 or so , to rest up for phase two.
I was awakened about midnight by a resident who explained that my doctor had called from his car on the way home from the theater (and wasn't he so
considerate, thinking of me while he was out on the town!) and suggested a Foley
catheter to inflate my cervix. I agreed and was thrilled to be at 4 cm on Saturday morning!
Saturday we started the pit again. Cranked it up pretty high throughout the course of the day, but I tolerated contractions with ease. I did everything
I could think of to help such as walking (the miles I put on that telemetry
unit!!) nipple stimulation, even sucking my thumb. [Kmom note:
There may be an acupressure spot on the roof of the mouth; some theorize that
sucking the thumb can help stimulate labor sometimes.] Nothing seemed to help.
Of course, I was sneaking the occasional peanut butter cracker and juice as I was NPO for the duration.
[Kmom note: NPO is the abbreviation of the Latin words for nothing by mouth.]
This time, they did not turn of the pitocin. We continued through the night and into Sunday--Easter Sunday when I expected
to be holding my baby at Easter Dinner. The most memorable moment to me was receiving an Easter Lily from the Baptists women's guild. I was Catholic,
delivering at a Jewish hospital. I was quite amused by the blending of beliefs and still have pictures of that beautiful lily.
Sunday I saw the back-up doctor for the first time. He suggested rupturing
membranes and I agreed. (In retrospect, I should have walked out days ago, but I was naive.) He left, a resident did the deed and inserted
internal monitors and I stood up and had a real contraction--I actually had to stop and
breathe! I then proceeded to have what my doula described as "transition-like" contractions for the next twelve hours. It was obvious
the staff was tired of me as they pretty much left us alone. I insisted on laboring in the shower, complete with telemetry and birth ball. After 12
hours with ruptured membranes, I was still at four cm and told I could either have my cesarean now or wait another 12 hours but it was no longer an
option. I looked around the room--at my husband, so tired, so scared, yet so supportive, at my doula who had been with me for four days with only
brief breaks and who had given up her Easter with her family for naught, at my mother who was due to leave for Florida within the week--I gave up. I
won't go into the circus that ensued over the next few hours situating everything, but to illustrate the experience, my father showed up as I was
being wheeled into the OR and I truly believed I was going to die. My father has a major aversion to hospitals and I honestly did not expect to
see him until I was home.
And so , I finally saw "my" doctor, in the operating room, as he performed major abdominal surgery on a perfectly healthy mother and perfectly healthy
baby. Neither one of us had shown any signs of distress, despite my not having had real food or drink for several days, despite the massive amounts
of pitocin dripped into me, despite ruptured membranes. My daughter was
delivered, by this man who was annoyed at his shortened lunch hour, while I lay on the table unable to feel myself breathe. My memories of that morning
are interwoven with images of the Salem witch trials, where they would crush supposed witches with large cinder blocks.
Allison Kathryn weighed 8 pounds, 15 ounces and had apgars of 9 and 10. He told me he had made the
incision in a place that should not be aggravated by my "flap" and apologized for the size of the incision as he had anticipated a much larger
baby. Then he was gone. He is still my mother's GYN and still encourages me (through her) to plan elective cesareans each time I am pregnant.
The story of my physical recovery is short, but the emotional healing has been slow. Nearly five years later, as I anticipate the birth of my third
child, I am still haunted by those visions of being crushed while my child is cut from my body. And that is how I remember the so-called birth of my
first-born.
Birth #2: When my first child turned one year old, we decided it was time for our second and immediately conceived. I assumed I would have a natural birth this time, despite my prior cesarean, and found a caregiver who would support that. Dr. B was the ideal OB. He was a strong proponent of natural birth and truly supported me in every decision. My pregnancy was noneventful, except for the usual stressors of selling our house, quitting my job, buying a house, etc. Medically, things were perfect.
When it came time to test for Gestational Diabetes, Dr. Bowen examined my results from my
first pregnancy, shared concern that I was misdiagnosed, and asked if I would be willing to forgo the one hour GTT for the three hour. Sure.
Results were a bit odd, so I repeated it. All clear! One possible risk factor eliminated! He did not consider my weight an issue, other than
contributing to my personal discomfort, and was even willing to allow me to weigh myself at another place to minimize my binge triggers. He frequently
consulted with me concerning my pregnancy, making it clear he considered me a partner in this, not a patient.
As the end of pregnancy approached, I chose to allow vaginal exams as I needed some reassurance I was progressing. Imagine my thrill at 38 weeks
when I was dilated to 2 cm! Then two weeks later I was at 4!! That was as far as I had progressed with my first four day induction. I began to
believe I might really do this. Dr. B discussed some natural methods of induction with me, emphasizing it was
totally up to me. I tried castor oil numerous times, intercourse, and even the cohoshes at his suggestion. I
experienced a few mild contractions and some major diarrhea, but no real progress.
At 43 weeks, Dr. B asked me to have a Bio Physical Profile. He assured me he
would interpret the results himself, with me, and not let the "expert" at the U/S center influence him. He was very aware of my mistrust of that
particular doctor. I agreed and we scheduled the BPP for Thursday, January 28th. This was my husband's 32nd birthday, his goddaughter's (who would be
the godmother of our baby) 16th birthday, and ironically, Dr. B's anniversary. I had hoped that our baby would be born on this day, keeping
up the family tradition.
My mom met us at the hospital for the U/S and we had our 21 month old daughter with us as well. The technician was one I had met several times in
different capacities and was very comfortable with. There was no sign of Dr. S--my nemesis. The baby looked wonderful and responded well, BUT my
fluid levels were virtually immeasurable and my placenta was rated as very deteriorated. OF course, we all focused on the
distressing news instead of the positive--the baby was FINE!! So, a flurry of phone calls ensued and
that was when we realized the mistake in selecting that day for the U/S.
Dr. B was out of town and his back-up was less than satisfactory. First,
she refused to talk to me on the phone, instead sending orders through various nurses and secretaries. My mother had left by this time, and we
were trying to deal with a toddler and figure out what we needed to do. Finally, I managed to get through to the receptionist who apparently was as
annoyed as I was and had Dr. B call me on his cell--out of town, on his anniversary. After discussing the situation with him, we decided it was not
an emergency, and I agreed to let his back-up examine me and agreed to an IV to see if we could increase fluids. My largest concern was that his back-up
did not have privileges at the hospital I had chosen to birth at, due to a paperwork
mix-up. I simply prayed that I would not go into labor until he was back in town that evening. By this time, my husband had left to take
our daughter to his mother's and I called my doula to be with me. I agreed to an oxytocin challenge to see how my baby tolerated contractions, thinking
perhaps I could actually jump start labor that way and by this time, I was coherent and sure my baby was fine. Interestingly enough, I did not even
see my "doctor" until after all the tests, IVs etc and even then she was abrupt and unfriendly. All was well, so I dressed and left quickly, with
instruction to call Dr B in the morning.
Managed a few contractions that night, but in the morning called Dr B and agreed that given the info at hand, we should probably induce. Dropped my
daughter off, had a quick lunch and went to the hospital. Spoke with Dr. B who then said, "well, I'll stop by the desk and get things started and be
back in a bit." Shortly after that, another doctor walked into the room, said he was there to get things started, proceeded to examine me and lecture
me as to why I should not consider a vaginal birth. I was apparently a bit irate, especially when he reported I was at 1 cm and the nurse
said "But Dr. B found her at 4." At that point, he stalked out of the room. Several
minutes later he came in with a very distraught head nurse who apologized. They were very busy that day and she had handed him the wrong chart! I was
not his patient. This was not reassuring, but reminded me to be vigilant throughout this birth.
Shortly thereafter, we got the pitocin started and I began contracting. Within about 12 hours, I progressed to 7 cm. Twelve hours later, I was still at 7 cm. 3 hours after that, I was still at 7 cm. I had done everything I knew, with the help of my two doulas and my husband and my mother. I walked, I ate, I labored in the shower. Dr B was a great support--I found out later that he had to stay at the hospital throughout my entire labor as this particular hospital did not have residents or an OB on call at the time. He never gave any indication that he was impatient or would rather be doing anything except babysitting me for the weekend.
27 hours after my induction started, Dr B came in and asked if we could discuss
my options. He laid them out, simplest to most interventive. Continue as we were and see what happened. Increase the pitocin. Consider an epidural
to see if that would relax me and allow me to dilate. Consider a cesarean. I asked his opinion. He said, "I think you are headed down that
road." I looked around the room at my "support" team and nobody met my eyes. Nobody
told me I could do this, that I was fine and my baby was fine. They had lost faith and so did I. I said "Let's do it" and cried. Dr. B hugged me
and said "Next time!" Everyone except my husband left and I cried and cried. (He told me later that he was very surprised I gave in. He did not
expect that and had no idea I was so tired and discouraged as I had been handling labor quite well. I wish he had told me that at the time. It
would have made all the difference.)
Preparing for the cesarean was a bit of an adventure. I had a great anesthetist--2 in fact, but they had a terrible time getting the spinal
placed. (We had decided on a spinal as I reacted quite strongly to the epidural
previously.) Eventually, they got me numb, and at Dr. B's request allowed my mother and both of my doulas in addition to my husband into the
operating room. My mother and husband were at my head on one side, my doulas had a front row seat at the foot of my bed. I have to say that I was
very disappointed with their interest in the surgery as opposed to ME, but as a doula, I also understand the unique opportunity they had. (In
retrospect, I think one of the biggest problems was that everyone kept thinking of me as a doula and not as a laboring woman.)
The surgery was noneventful, Daniel was easily delivered, screaming all the way and promptly peed on everyone and everything. I was able to see him briefly and Mark went with him to the side of the room where the warmer was. My mom went back and forth, so I was left alone a bit more than I would have appreciated during the repair. Fortunately, Mary, one of the anesthetists, was super and made sure the have Mark bring the baby over as soon as possible. She had him hold Daniel up to my cheek and I was able to stroke and cuddle him while he was still a bit messy and fresh. He was perfect--weighed nine pounds even and showed no signs of postmaturity, despite a severely calcified placenta (I saw it--it was pretty bad!)
I was able to hold him on the way back to my room, but felt very woozy and out of it. In fact, once I was in the room, the nurses became very concerned and took the baby (who then pooped on everyone) and began working on me. I remember fading in and out and Mary apologizing as she inserted an IV without gloves on. Apparently my blood pressure dropped significantly and they were a mite worried. I recovered fairly quickly, and settled down to bond with my baby. Mark called immediate family members, then I sent him home for sleep. Daniel and I had a wonderful night napping and cuddling, and I swear he smiled at me. Interestingly enough, I didn't call anyone for several days. It was very difficult for me to integrate this birth.
I developed a spinal headache which was far worse than anything I had ever experienced, and challenged our
breastfeeding relationship, but I had good nurses and a great lactation
consultant so was able to work through that. I also had my first experience with Therapeutic Touch, courtesy of the hospital. I stayed
longer this time, but once the headache was under control, I was eager to get home and begin life as a mother of two. Recovery was relatively easy,
as with my first cesarean, though not something I would choose to deal with when caring for a newborn and toddler.
In retrospect, this birth was much more difficult for me, because despite being educated and prepared, I still allowed others to influence my
decisions. I cannot blame my choices on ignorance or naiveté. I simply relied on people who did not see my needs, only strengths, and this was a
fatal flaw. I learned a lot over the next three years. After about 10 months, I discovered ICAN online and have become very involved since. I
have continued to search and to learn and to grow and heal. Now, my son is three years old, I am nearing the end of my third pregnancy, and I have
realized the ultimate lesson for me: I cannot birth in a hospital. I am planning a homebirth and hope to have a third, triumphant story to share
within a few months.
Baby #3: Pam went on to have a home waterbirth VBAC after 2 cesareans. See the summary of the story below, and the full story on the BBW VBAC stories section, or in the VBA2C Stories section.
SL's Story (SROM, induction, group B strep, c/s)
Name: SL Age: 20
Pre-pregnancy Weight or Dress Size: 220lbs
Baby Info: Girl, 7lbs 2ozs
Wt. Gain in Pregnancy: None, lost 21lbs
Infertility Problems? No
Any Complications: None in pregnancy, apart from high blood pressure
occasionally
Type of Birth: Emergency c-section due to FTP, fetal tachycardia &
Group B Strep
Birthplace: Hospital Provider: OB
Breastfeeding: No
Special Notes on Pregnancy:
Kmom's Notes: Because her water broke before labor (Spontaneous
Rupture of Membranes=SROM), this mom was induced. Problems putting in an
epidural caused a cascade of problems here, ending in cesarean.
Birth Story
Sophie was born in an operating theatre at the maternity unit of the local hospital. I had been in labour for 58 hours!
My waters broke at 5am, a week before my due date. DH took me to the
hospital, where they examined me and said that I wasn't even 1cm dilated but my waters had definitely gone! The doctor said to go home, get some rest and
come back at 9am the following morning if nothing still was happening. So we returned the next day (keep in mind my waters were still leaking!), where, at
11am, the doctor gave me prostaglandin gel, which is a form of induction. I was instructed to walk around because that is supposed to help
get things going. All day DH and I walked around and around! I was getting a few
niggling pains, like period pains.
At 5pm I was examined internally again and told I was 1cm dilated. Hurray! They gave me some more prostaglandin gel at 5.30pm and once again we had to go walkies! Towards the end of the evening the pain started to get worse, but I felt reassured because I thought that at least something was happening! I had to stay in the hospital overnight due to the attempted induction. After having contractions all throughout the night, I felt optimistic that it would soon be all over and my baby would be in my arms. However, when the doctor examined me at 8.30am, I was still only 1cm dilated and was told I was going to be put on a pitocin drip, which would speed up the contractions but make them a lot more painful too.
Well, I had been quite brave I think up until this point, without any painkillers. But hearing them say more painful contractions had me demanding an epidural before they put the drip in! I was taken down to labour ward, where they put the epidural in. But it was a student anesthetist that did it, and he put too much in. He estimated my weight wrongly and thought I was heavier than I actually was. I was numb from the neck down, it was horrific. They got one of the senior doctors to come in and he confirmed that they'd made a mistake. At this point, to me, the room was spinning all of a sudden and I vomited everywhere. My DH was my lifeline, he actually caught my sick! It sounds gross but at that point I knew for sure that he really did love me!
Anyway, after I was sick, they noticed my heart rate was 140, way too fast so they did an emergency echo-cardiogram. Then, my baby's heart rate went up to 180. She was in distress. Suddenly there were doctors and midwives everywhere, shouting, "We have to do an emergency c-section now!" I have never been so scared in all my life, and DH hadn't either. He had to sign a consent form to say that they could do the c-section (I was numb remember, I couldn't sign it!) and then I was shaved and given a spinal block "Just to make sure you're completely numb," they said. (I was thinking 'u gotta be kidding me, right!') So I was rushed down to the operating theatre, DH all dressed in green scrubs at 2.45pm and at 3.06pm on Friday 21st July 2000, 58 hours after my waters had broken, Sophie was born, weighing 7lb 2oz. (I was sick again as they were pulling her out cause it didn't hurt but I could feel all this tugging, eew) . She let out a loud squawk as she came out so I knew she was just fine! Her apgar scores were 9 at 1 minute and 10 at 5 minutes.
She was wrapped in a towel and handed to DH, who looked totally shocked and overwhelmed! I couldn't believe this gorgeous little red thing with loads of dark brown hair was really ours! It was the best moment of our lives. We have a gorgeous, active, bright little girl, Sophie. She truly is a blessing.
MH's Story (pre-existing hypertension, induction, c/s)
Kmom's Notes: It can be very hard on a woman emotionally to have general anesthesia for a cesarean. For more information about the issues this can bring up, please see the FAQ on Emotional Recovery After a Cesarean on this site.
Birth Story
My pregnancy was pretty good. Because of controlled [pre-existing] hypertension (not pregnancy-induced), I was labeled high risk. That was okay with me actually, as hypertension is something that can be scary in pregnancy. I had 3 level 2 ultrasounds until the last 5 weeks. Then I had one at the doctor's office every 3-4 days, with a non-stress test. During my 39th week visit, the doctor did an u/s and said the baby was well over 8 lbs. Because of the hypertension, I was going to be induced during my 40th week if I had not gone into labor already. So, because I was very adamant that I wanted *my* doctor to be the one that was there during delivery, and he was on call the next couple of days, we decided to start the induction that night.
I was given Cervadil in hope that my cervix would soften, as I was not dilated at all, and just a bit effaced. Pitocin was started the next day at 5:00. I started having contractions about 9:00, but nothing strong at all. My doctor checked me at 12:00, still nothing. Checked again at 5:00, and still, nothing. At this point, we had to decide how to proceed. I could go home and see if anything happened over the weekend, with a scheduled c-section if I didn't go into labor myself, the pit could be turned off, and started up the next day (but my doctor didn't want to do that, and neither did I), or a c-section then. We chose the c-section.
After I was prepped, the anesthesiologist came in and attempted to give me a spinal. After 5
attempts, he said he didn't think it would work. I said try it two more times, and then I'd agree to a general. It didn't work. I was knocked out
completely. The next thing I remember was waking up, being moved from the operating table to a bed, then I turned to my left, and my husband was
standing there with our beautiful little boy! I was in a lot of pain, as the morphine did not work. I was given a
Demerol drip, and that did work.
Yes, I think I was pushed into the c-section. I am going to try very very hard next time for a VBAC. And, I will flat out refuse to be worked on by the same anesthesiologist. It is because his ineptness that I did not see my baby be born.
Kathie's Story (borderline BP, induction, c/s)
Kmom's Notes: As far as her borderline blood pressure goes, it's very suspicious that Kathie's bp was always very normal at the hospital during monitoring and high at the doctor's office. Either the doctor's office was not using the correct size cuff, or Kathie experienced "white coat hypertension" (elevated bp readings from the stress of seeing a provider, or in this case, a hostile provider).
A doctor automatically ASSUMING from the start that you are going to have high blood pressure, gd, and/or a c/s simply because you are large is a BIG RED FLAG that this doctor is fat-phobic. Almost always, these doctors create a scenario that make these women have highly interventive, difficult births. Beware of the self-fulfilling prophecy of your provider's expectations! And never hesitate to switch providers if your intuition is uneasy. It's NEVER too late to switch providers---even in labor!
Birth Story
I became pregnant in August of 2000 with my first baby. I went to my ob and was officially told I was pregnant and due April 16, 2001. My ob showed signs of being fat phobic at that very first appointment and I should have changed immediately! However, I decided to stick it out and ended up regretting it all through my pregnancy.
At the very first appointment she told me that I would have pregnancy induced hypertension and most
definitely I would have GD - all because of my weight. I believe my highest blood
pressure reading was 150/85 at which point she made me have fetal monitoring every week for the last 4 months of my pregnancy. Funny thing was I always
had a normal blood pressure at the hospital when I was being monitored (117/70). The "high" blood pressure in my opinion was brought on by my ob.
I believe now looking back on it that she wanted to find something wrong with me during my pregnancy to prove to me that an over weight pregnancy was, in
her opinion, an unhealthy pregnancy. And I never had GD...as a matter of fact my numbers were great...I think my test came back with a number of 100.
Anyhow, April 16th came and went and I wasn't even dilated or have a soft cervix or anything. My ob insisted that I needed to be induced because of my
weight...she didn't want the baby getting too big. Also I was swelling quite a bit and she said that all the water gain wasn't good either. So, on the
evening of the 17th I went to the hospital and was given cervadil. This was supposed to soften my cervix and get it ready for inducing in the
morning. This actually brought on slight contractions, but nothing that was
really painful. The next morning (the 18th) I woke up around 5 am. I had to go to the bathroom and when I stood up all this liquid came out! My first
thought was I didn't know I had to go that bad! Anyway, I made to the bathroom and I went for what seemed like a really long time. I thought did
my water just break? I thought I had better mention it to the nurse. She checked me and said that I had in fact broken my water. I was only dilated
about 1/2 cm at that point.
They immediately started me on pitocin. They increased the amount every 15 minutes or so, which I believe is very common. Boy did this bring on the
contractions hard and fast! I finally understood what my ob meant when she said I wouldn't be able to talk through them! My contractions were
coming every minute or minute and a half and I was still only dilated to 3 cm. This was around 12 noon. A few times during the morning I had to be
placed on oxygen because the baby's heart rate dropped, but they were able to get it stabilized and I didn't have to remain on the oxygen for very long.
This was very scary! I had no idea what was happening to my baby! The nurses were wonderful! They never got
panicked or anything and that in turn kept me very calm.
At around 3 pm I asked for an epidural...my contractions were coming every minute and lasting probably 45 - 60 seconds, but I was only dilated to 4 cm.
My ob came in and checked me a few times during the day. She did say that I should have had the baby by now. She didn't know what was slowing things up. What I found very irritating about her during all this is she didn't speak
to me. She didn't ask how I was or how I was feeling. She would come in and talk to the nurse and completely ignore me! Ugh! So frustrating. If my
husband or I would ask a question she would give a cursory answer and walk out! I believe this was a reflection on how she felt about me because of my
weight!
The nurse came in and told me that it would be a few minutes before I could get my epidural because the dr. was in surgery! So they gave me a shot of I
believe it was called new morphine? Any way...it was to take the edge off the contractions. It worked, but I remember thinking with each
contraction...boy I'm glad they gave me that shot...it still really hurts but can you imagine how much it would have hurt with out it??!?! Finally
around 4 pm the dr. came and gave me my epidural. Sweet relief! However, only half my
stomach was affected by the epidural...I could totally feel the contractions on one half and not on the other. So the dr. came back and gave
me some more medicine.
After that it was just a big blur. I laid there until 8 pm when the ob came to check on me...I was still only dilated to about 5 or 6. She kept saying
to the nurse she should have had this baby by now. I was confused because everything I had heard about inducing was that it gets the job done fast. To
be honest I was too exhausted to ask what was wrong...I had been up for 2 days by this time. I just wanted it to be over!
Finally at 3 AM on Thursday (the 19th) they checked me and I was still only dilated to 8 cm. The ob said she would do a c-section because it was coming
close to being 24 hours since my water broke. (Oh yeah...they did start me on antibiotics earlier - about 12 hours after my water broke). Finally my
son (8 lbs. 15 oz. 21 1/2 inches.), was born by c-section at 4 am with my hubby by my side...that is until he got woozy and almost fainted
and had to leave! Men!
I honestly believe that the ob made me lay there for almost 3 days before she decided to do the c-section because of my weight. She told me way at the
beginning of my pregnancy that I would probably have to have a c-section because I was overweight. I think, again, that she wanted to prove her
point.
Nicky was sent to the NICU 2 days later because of rapid breathing. They kept him for 4 days and did blood cultures. There wasn't any infections. He
does however have a very small ASD and VSD (Ventricle Septal Defect and I can't remember what the ASD stands for.) Anyway, the cardiologist said they
are so small that there is no need to worry. I took him to the cardiologist in Dec. of 2001 and she said that he is doing so well that she doesn't have
to see him for a year! He is growing and gaining weight like crazy!
Laurin's Story (insulin-dep. gd, pre-eclampsia, induction, c/s, wound problems)
Kmom's Notes: Laurin experienced the classic signs of pre-eclampsia---sudden severe weight gain, spilling protein in the urine, swelling, high blood pressure, etc. This is potentially very serious, and induction is the usual response.
She also experienced a baby malposition. The doctor said that the baby's head was turned to the side, making the baby either occiput transverse or asynclitic (depending on what the doctor meant exactly). Breaking the waters typically makes it very difficult for the baby to rotate to the most optimal position for birth, and they often get 'stuck' as she did here. Usually breaking the waters does not hurt, but Laurin experienced significant pain. This probably was due to the fact that she was only 1 cm dilated, or the doctor may also have tried to manually stimulate the cervix at that time as well, which can sometimes help. However, in Kmom's view, this painful procedure should only be done after asking permission, and when it is not, many people believe this borders on assault. Unfortunately, doctors rarely ask permission to do this or have the patients give informed consent.
A seroma is a pocket of fluid that can collect underneath an
incision after surgery. Although women of all sizes can experience this,
it does tend to be more prevalent in women of size. Research shows
that suturing the subcutaneous layer, and/or putting in a surgical drain can
lower the risk for wound complications like this in larger women, although they
cannot *guarantee* that there will be no problems.
Birth Story
My daughter was due on June 22, 1998. I had planned to work until June
12, but by June 1 I was so swollen and exhausted I begged my doctor to release me from work on June 5. He agreed without any prodding. I had
my 38 week doctor’s appointment on Saturday, June 6, the very day after I stopped working. When I got weighed, the nurse exclaimed that I had
gained 25 pounds IN A WEEK!!! And my usually 140/70 blood pressure was “sky high”, as they put it (but I can’t remember exactly what it was).
Then they tested my urine, and found I was putting out large amounts of protein. My doctor immediately diagnosed preeclampsia and sent me home
to pick up my husband and my “hospital bag” and ordered that I go to the hospital to have my labor induced right away.
When I got to the hospital, they hooked me up to a fetal monitor, an automatic blood pressure cuff that takes your blood pressure like every
five minutes, an IV drip of magnesium sulfate (which prevents seizures in
pre-eclamptic patients) and pitocin, and they catheterized me. The only problem with that is that mag sulfate tends to counteract the
effectiveness of pitocin, so I was not having the strong contractions I should have. And there I lay for approximately the next 36 hours,
having only minor contractions and not progressing in the slightest. About 24 hours into my non-laboring labor, one of my doctor’s
associates decided to try and speed things along by breaking my bag of waters. I found this to be the most excruciatingly painful event from
my entire birth experience, but that could be because I was only 1 cm dilated. It was horrible! After she did that, she also inserted an
internal fetal monitor, which was a wire attached to the baby’s scalp. I have to say, after the pain I went through with breaking the bag of
waters, I began to wonder whether I was cut out for this birth stuff! All of my friends said that part was a piece of cake!
Breaking the bag of waters worked to a certain extent, but I still only dilated to 3 centimeters. This baby wasn’t going anywhere! The doctor
said the baby’s head was turned slightly and was stuck in my pelvis. She didn’t even get to the –3 station. So, at about the 32nd hour,
they decided that I needed a cesarean section.
I had some difficulties when they tried to give me an epidural—I was so swollen that the anesthesiologist could not find the proper
area and said if he missed, I could be paralyzed. Not something I wanted to hear! So then they decided to
give me a spinal block instead and I was wheeled into the operating room while DH waited in scrubs outside until the spinal had been
administered. That went through without a hitch, and DH was invited into the OR to be with me during our baby’s birth. He stood at my
right shoulder and tried to keep me awake during the surgery. Baby was born about 5 minutes later, beautiful and very healthy. The nurse
brought her over for me to see, and I kissed my newborn daughter on the forehead and they took her away to get weighed, etc. while my husband
tagged along, video camera in tow.
I didn’t have much pain from the cesarean section. The nurses were amazed at how quickly I could sit up and was walking around. I tend to
think it’s because my abdominal muscles were already used to lifting a lot of weight. I still had to take it slow, but all in all I thought
the cesarean was a cake walk.
I was released from the hospital 48 hours after the c-section. Everything was fine with my recovery and my DH and I were enjoying our
first baby. Then one night, three days later, I was getting into bed (slowly) in the dark and I felt a huge gush of fluid pour out of my
incision. I was so afraid it was blood! But it wasn’t—it was more like water, but sort of had a yellowish tinge. I called my doctor and he
said to go to the emergency room immediately. It turned out that I had developed a seroma, or a pocket of fluid, behind the wound, and it had
burst, thereby partially opening the incision. The staples had to be taken out in the ER. Then I had to be
readmitted to the hospital for another two days while they watched me for infection. Since they
couldn’t re-staple the incision, it had to be allowed to heal by itself, and the wound was 17 cm long and 6 cm deep! This involved
packing the wound twice a day with lots and lots of gauze soaked in a mixture of saline solution and hydrogen peroxide and covering the whole
mess with a lot of surgical tape and abdominal pads.
This was by far the worse thing about my daughter’s birth, because for the next 12 weeks I had to have home health nurses at my house twice a
day to attend to my wound. I felt like a prisoner of my house—I couldn’t leave for more than a few hours at a time. It’s the thing I’m
most afraid of for my current pregnancy—if I end up having to have to have a c-section that the wound would become compromised again. My
doctor assures me that knowing what they know now, they would insert drains and take special care in sewing up the inner layers to avoid a
situation like that.
As for size bias, all of the doctors and nurses were great and very supportive with the exception of the first nurse I encountered on my
first day. She was a skinny little thing from Thailand and kept making remarks like “Were you always this big, or is it just because of the
baby?” “Your hands look like catcher’s mitts” and “Are you going to go
on a diet when the baby is born?” After several hours of dealing with her unkind remarks, I asked my husband to get the head nurse and I told
her the remarks my previous nurse had made. Arlene, the head nurse for that shift, reassigned my previous nurse and she herself became my
nurse, and she was the best one I encountered.
Ellen2's Story (elective c/s)