Michele's Story- 8 lbs., 7 oz.- Unnecesarean

8 lbs. 7 oz

20 1/2 inches long

Hospital

Mother's Height: 5'3"

How was your pregnancy? Perfect. It was textbook.

How did you feel about your upcoming birth? Being a first time mom, I was anxious, but I felt great. I felt I would be able to have a med-free hospital birth. I was not afraid of the pain.

Description of your birth experience: My doctor scheduled an induction for me because I was "overdue" at 40 weeks and 6 days. I dilated to 4 cm during the first 4 hours, then I stalled for 4 more hours. My doctor told me I had CPD and was a "failure to progress".

How did you feel after the birth (first month)? I felt depressed. I felt like a failure. I felt like something was taken from me. I knew deep down, that I could have birthed my son if I would have waited for labor to start on it's own. So many people told me,"You should behappy you have a healthy baby," and/or ," back then you would have died because cesareans were not as safe or available...". Well, MY CESAREAN WASN'T NECESSARY!!!! Maybe if it truly was necessary, I would feel a little more grateful (though even then I would still have the right to grieve the loss of my birth). I was bullied and robbed of a healthy birth that my son and I both deserved.

How did you feel six months after the birth? One year? Now? By 6 months, much of the sadness turned into anger. It proplled me into research about VBAC, and maternity care all across the globe. It inspired me to create my own website about cesareans and VBAC's.  (www.birthcut.com). One year later, I sent a letter to my doctor and she called me. In our conversation, she said I could "try" a VBAC, but most likely couldn't succeed. She never gave me a reason why. This was also around the time of my son's 1st birthday, which was joyful, yet a constant reminder of that day. Now, almost 2 years later, I am 17 weeks pregnant with baby #2, and planning a HBAC! I believe and trust in my body. I will do this.

What did you learn from this birth? Do your research. Don't do something "just because" someone said you should. Be informed. Know your rights.

Any words of wisdom to impart? YOU NEED TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR OWN BIRTH.

Mason's Birth
------------------------

It was December 2006. My husband and I were expecting our first child,
a boy named Mason Alexander. We were both over the moon. My EDD was
December 28th. I was so anxious to meet my baby boy. I was excited
about labor starting, timing contractions and exlaiming to my husband,
Jason, "This is it!" Jason would grab the bag, and we would race to
the hospital. I would daydream about that special day, wondering how
and when it would all come to fruition. Sadly, the day that was
supposed to be the best day of my life, turned out to be one of the
worst.

I started having lots of Braxton Hicks contractions everyday from
about 35 weeks on. Towards the end, they would get strong enough where
it would keep me up at night. I was so sure they were dilating me--at
least I hoped they were. I was experiencing the typical third
trimester blahs; I was so done with being pregnant, and ready to
become a mother.

I went to my 39 week appointment, and my doctor (whom I never liked
and it seemed vice versa) told me I was about a fingertip dilated. I
was upset. I felt my body would never go into labor on its own. My
doctor spoke to me about induction. She told me at her practice, if
you reached 41 weeks, they would routinely schedule an induction. I
really wanted to go into labor on my own, but I also saw a light at
the end of the tunnel. I hastily agreed to an induction for January
3rd, 2007. My doctor told me I was #2 on the list for that day, and to
call the hospital at 6 AM that morning to see if they had any open
beds yet. I left the doctors that day excited and scared. I knew I
would have my little boy in my arms in a few days.

I didn't bother to research the risks to inductions, I mostly asked
advice on message boards and read about the procedures. I assumed I
would go in and have my baby vaginally, like all my sisters. I just
knew I was going to have an uncomplcated birth--a cesarean never even
crossed my mind. I spent the rest of that week reading birth stories,
preparing our home for our son and obsessing over my irregular
contractions. I wanted to go into natural, spontaneous labor so badly,
I remember admitting to myself that I would feel like my body had
failed me if I did end up being induced.

As it turned out, January 3rd rolled around and I was still pregnant.
I called the hospital at 6:30 that morning. The nurse who answered
told me they had no rooms available at that time, and I gave them my
number to call me back when they were ready for us. Jason and I spent
the rest of that morning restless, excited and agitated. I called my
sister, Angel, and told her I would call her when I was on my way to
the hospital. She was the only person in my family that could "make
it" to the birth.

At last, around 12:30 PM, the hospital called us, and told us to be
there at 1:30 PM. We arrived, and were told we had to wait a few
minutes in the waiting room, because the room was still being cleaned.
We ended up waiting for about 30 minutes or so, it was the longest
wait of our lives. A nurse came in and told us they were ready for us.
My heart must have skipped a few beats.

We were led to the room, and I changed into the lovely hospital gown,
was strapped to the EFM and given an I.V. Jason was just sitting on a
chair beside me, watching T.V. We didn't say much, but we were
constantly glancing at eachother; this was really it.

I was extremely nervous and I had barely eaten that day, so I was very
jittery and shakey. Somehow the subject of food came up, and the nurse
asked why I was so hungry. I told her I was told to eat a light
breakfast, and I did, but very early in the moring. Then I was too
anxious to eat anything else, and was given the impression by my OB
not to eat right before the induction. Now I was starving. So, is a
famished woman about to embark on the most physically demanding and
exhausting experience of her life offered some food--even a light
snack?

Nope. Hospital policy is the typical menu of ice chips and Italian ice.

The pitocin was administered, and the nurse told me it was at a very
low dose; 2 miU/min, and told me it would be upped about 2 miU/min
every 30 minutes or so until a nice contraction pattern was started.
The nurse was very friendly and chatty. She helped me feel a little
more relaxed.

At around 3:00, my doctor showed up to check my dilation and break my
water. She seemed like she didn't want to be there, and this was all
so "routine". I was still 1 cm. It was painful when she tried to break
my water, she barely nicked me, only a small trickle came out. She
suggested to wait and see if the rest would break on it's own, and if
not, she would come by later to do it along with another vaginal exam.
I remember that I felt something "wrong" after my doctor punctured the
amniotic sac. It just didn't feel "right" to try to break it. Why not
leave it alone? It just felt wrong to mess with the pregnancy, and it
just wasn't time yet for my son to be born.

But I went on with it, regardless.

I didn't feel much at first, just some mild cramping. The nurse
suggested I get up and sit in the rocking chair for a while. It felt
nice to be up and moving around, though it was a pain to drag the IV
with me. It made moving very difficult. I don't remember how long I
was in the chair for, but it wasn't very long, when the nurse had me
get up and go to the bathroom. I was in the bathroom for a few
moments, enjoying the solitude. It felt good to be alone, away from
the obnoxiously loud EFM and free from its' fetal monitoring strips.
But soon enough, the nurse was knocking on the door, and I was told I
had to move to the bed. I reluctantly obeyed.

The contractions were still bareable when Angel arrived at around 5:30
PM. At this point, I was starving, I was only eating my "allowed"
sustenance of italian ice and ice chips. At one point, Angel went to
the cafeteria for food, and brought me back some Lifesavers. Jason had
left to eat, too. Around this time, my contractions became very
painful. I felt a lot of pain and pressure in my lower back. I had no
idea at the time that I was actually experiencing back labor because
my son was posterior. I complained about my back to the nurse, and she
didn't even say anything about maybe having a posterior baby. She was
too busy reading the read out strip from the EFM and chatting with
Angel, a nursing student, about nursing school. It really bugged me.
My contractions were extremely painful, and I wanted total silence. I
was so annoyed with them I wanted to scream,"SHUT UP!" But I did not
say anything.

My "labor" is a fuzzy memory. Jason would come over to me
periodically, and hold my hand, feed me ice chips, or talk to me. But
when I was having a contraction, I would push his hand away, or
say,"Don't touch me". The pain was making me so agitated and scared
me, I wanted to run from it. When a contraction hit, I couldn't stop
moving, I was so fidgety (I found out later this is quite common in
mothers with back labor, though, my nurse failed to notice). As soon
as one ended, I was dreading the other, and when one was starting, I
would say,"Oh no" . At one point, I actually remember envisioning
myself getting smacked on the head with a frying pan, and getting
knocked unconscious. It hurt so bad, I really wanted to be knocked
out. The thought of getting hit over the head with a frying pan
sounded welcoming--I just wanted it to end. I remember wanting to get
on my knees, and rest my upper body on the back of the hospital bed.
This position seemed it would feel right to me. For some reason, I
didn't do it. I was afraid to move, so I stayed on my back. I think
this was a big mistake on my part.

The nurse made me get up and go to the bathroom. I dreaded getting up,
no one helped me, not even Jason. I waddled to the bathroom, dragging
my IV. Sitting on the toilet felt good too. It relieved some of the
pressure on my bottom. Again, I stayed in a little too long for the
nurses' liking. I guess she was worried having me on pitocin and off
the EFM, though I was glad to be away from that machine. So, back in
bed I went, and the fetal monitoring strips were fastened once again.

At around 7:00 PM, I begged for an epidural. I felt bad for "giving
in", but I also thought I was still going to get a vaginal birth, so
that made me feel better about my decision. At around 7:30, my doctor
came back for a vaginal exam, and to again attempt to break my water.
I still hadn't gotten the epi at his point. She checked me, I was 4 cm
dilated. I felt relieved, I was actually progressing. She then
attempted to break my water, which was extremely painful. I was
yelling,"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" and squirming around in bed. "Sorry", she
said. Then I felt a huge, warm gush. What an odd sensation that was.
My doctor left. There was a shift change in the nurses. The new one
was a lot younger and seemed to be in a bad mood. I kept asking the
nurse, "Is the epi guy here yet?" She seemed annoyed by my persistant
whining.

It seemed an eternity before the anesthesiologist walked in with his
rolling tray of goodies. Jason was forced to sit down and not move,
for liablity purposes. Angel had to leave the room. I sat up and the
nurse made me lean forward on a pillow, and into her. I didn't want
her to be the one to hold me while I was getting a needle in my spine;
I wanted Jason to hold me. The pillow wasn't supporting me right, it
was too soft, and the nurse wouldn't let me rest on her. She barely
held my shoulders with her hands. This annoyed me, as I had to sit
there through contractions, awkward and off balance due to my pregnant
belly, straining trying to keep in that position, and trying not to
move. The nurse kept telling me,"No, lean this way," she would try to
position me correctly. The anesthesiologist had to ask me a ton of
questions before he could give me the epi. I was getting agitated. It
seemed like there were a million questions.

During the procedure, the contractions were so bad, I could do nothing
but sit through them, amniotic fluid gushing to the floor in buckets
with each contraction. This experience seemed so humiliating, but I
didn't even care at the time. When it was all done, I felt like a
nillion bucks. I felt relaxed and human again. Jason was allowed to
move again. He asked me how I felt. "Great", I said,"Why wouldn't you
want this?"

Soon after I had recieved the epi, Mason's heartrate was deceling with
contractions. Suddenly, the nurse comes in, and tells me I need a
little oxygen because he was showing some distress. I was freaked out.
I was put on oxygen. I kept looking over at the monitor, staring at my
little boy's hear trate. Whenever it started to dip, I was petrified.
"Where are the nurses??" I would ask Jason,"Don't they see this on the
monitor in the nurses station?" Jason was getting agitated with me, he
said I was making him nervous too, everything was okay, and I needed
to calm down. I started to feel some pain even through my epi, a lot
of it was in my bottom, and lower back. I kept pushing the dose button
until it would beep, but that still didn't seem to do anything. I
remember hoping the pressure in my bottom was due to being fully
dilated. I told my nurse; she blew it off.

At about 11:30 PM, my doctor came back and checked me. I was still 4
cm, and completely, utterly devastated. My doctor went on to explain I
was not progressing, that Mason was most likely too big for my pelvis
(noted as CPD in my medical records), and I would need a cesarean
section. After she spoke those words, it was like time stood still. I
had never even thought about the possibility of a cesarean. The
thought of surgery scared me to death. I just remember staring at her,
wide eyed, and saying ,"Okay".

Jason went into the bathroom and changed into his scrubs. When he came
out, I remember thinking how handsome he looked. I was joking with my
Angel and Jason, I guess I was a little relieved at the time that it
would soon be over, but I was also in shock. Angel was ushered to the
waiting room. I was upset about that; I had wanted her to see Mason as
he was born.

I felt very ashamed as I was wheeled down the halls, and by the
nurses' station. I couldn't look any of them in the eye. I felt really
embarrassed, even silly. I was totally numb, I felt like a beached
whale; like a cow going in for the slaughter. They knew why I was
going to the OR. I was going because I failed as a woman. I was taking
the same walk many other poor victims of the knife had taken- the Walk
of Shame. I just looked up at the ceiling, thinking of how weird it
was to be wheeled around. I felt stupid and helpless. I remember going
through the big, white double doors that had huge red lettering on
them. I don't recall exactly what it said, something along the lines
of,"Operating Room, Sterile, Resticted Area, Entrance prohibited".
Such a lovely sight to see. Such a warm, welcoming place to give
"birth".

I was wheeled in the OR. The room was very bright. I couldn't believe
I was actually in the OR. I never had been anywhere near one ever in
my life, nevermind actually being the one about to be operated on. It
all seemed so surreal and foreign to me. A few people rolled me onto
the table. It felt so odd being out of control of my own body. I felt
like an invalid; totally helpless. The Anesthesiologist, whome I will
refer to as "A", was very kind and began trying to make light of the
situation. I did not listen to him, I was too scared and alone. Jason
was somewhere waiting to be let in. I knew it wasn't his fault, but I
couldn't help feel betrayed and abandoned by him.

All of a sudden, my legs felt as if they were on fire. I was scared,
"My legs feel like they are on fire," I said. "Yes. That's the
epidural," A said. I felt stupid again. Right about this time, I felt
a cold sensation on my belly. I guess that was the sterilizing
solution. They must have shaved me around that time too. Though it was
my body, I had no idea what was being done to it. I remember looking
up at the lights, they were very bright. I felt exposed. My doctor
then said,"Dr. V wants to be here, too." I felt a glimmer of hope. In
my drug induced stupor, I actually thought the sweet, motherly Dr. V
would rescue me from the inevitable. "STOP!", she'd say, "She doesn't
need to be sectioned!" Then rush to me, "It's okay, dear". She seemed
so sweet at the few pre-natal visits with her. She seemed so caring
and motherly, like I could tell her anything. That was a fantasy, she
didn't care about me and probably didn't even remember me. I was just
another nameless, faceless patient. My child an obstacle to end a hard
day of work. I never saw her. She was hiding behind the blue sterile
sheet the whole time. I never remember her speaking a word to me, or
even about what was going on in the room. They were too busy gossiping
about patients. At one point I asked them, "When he's out, do you hold
him up over the sheet so I can see him?" "No", they said. I felt
stupid again. I remembered seeing that on all the birth shows on T.V
though.

I guess I wasn't worthy of seeing my own son right after he was ripped from me.

They began pinching my belly, and brushing a cold solution over it.
They kept asking if I could feel the cold sensations and pinching. I
kept saying "yes". I could feel only the left side of my abdomen. A
kept pumping me full of drugs, the doctors kept pinching my belly,
"Can you feel this?" "Did you feel that?". I was terrified they
would start cutting even though I could still feel my left side. I
had heard too many horror stories about women whose doctors started
cutting even though they were not completely numb. The doctor wouldn't
listen to their cries, "It's not pain, it's pressure you are feeling!"

Finally, they numbed me up completely from my toes all the way up to
my neck. It felt like I wasn't really there; like I didn't exist. I
couldn't feel myself breathing. Suddenly, Jason was there to my right,
I didn't see him walk in-or I just don't remember. They didn't tell me
when they would start, I just remember both doctors chatting away as
if I wasn't even there. It was as if I was a corpse, I might as well
have been, and they were performing an autopsy on me, totally
desensitized to the process. I was laying there paralyzed, scared,
and about to give "birth" to my son, and they acted like it was just
another day at the office, chatting as if on a lunch break.

I suddenly felt my lower body moving around, I knew then that they had
indeed started. There was no turning back at that point. This was how
my pregnancy was going to end; it was really here. I looked up to
Jason, he's just a blue blur in my memeory. I don't think we spoke to
each other. We were both in our own worlds.

It seemed like seconds had passed when I heard, "It's a boy!" and "
Looks like a blondie!" I couldn't feel or see anything. I remember
trying to see Mason to my left as they washed him and checked his
Apgars. I couldn't see any part of him, the fucking blue sheet was in
my way. I asked Jason if he could move part of the sheet aside so I
could see, he said he was told he couldn't "touch anything that was
blue". I felt beyond anxious and frustrated. I wanted to jump up, run
over to Mason and grab him from those strangers' hands; but instead I
was strapped to a table, cut open, numb and raped. Mason let out a
low, drugged cry. "Is he okay?" I asked Jason. "Yes", he said. We
looked at eachother. As I looked at him, I tried to reach down into
the depths of my being to find some sort of happiness. I was
physically and mentally numb. I was supposed to be crying with
happiness, he was too.; but we were not. All I could muster up was one
tear.

Was he really laying over there? Was that him really crying? Detached.

Then, I heard the sucking sounds. It threw me violently back into
reality that my insides were exposed. I hoped they knew what they were
doing, it was my body, my one and only body. I wondered what it looked
like in there. They were suctioning out the blood and tissue from the
surgery and the thought nauseated me. More chatter as they sewed me
up. Then I never saw them leave, I don't remember a congratulations.
They had more women to cut open.

Jason got up and walked over to Mason to hold him and take pictures. I
felt so helpless and jealous. I wanted to hold him so badly, but I
couldn't even move my fingers. They shoved Masons' face next to mine
for a second, my eyes barely had time to focus and they whisked him
away. I hadn't seen a thing. That was the last I "saw" of him for at
least 2 hours. My son was born, yet I did not meet him. The whole
staff met him before I did.

On the table as I was being put back together, I was shaking
uncontrollably. I was terrified. No one explained to me that shaking
was a normal reaction to the anesthesia. I suddenly became extremely
sleepy. My eyelids became very heavy, and everything was fading to
black. I became very paniked and tried to fight it. I don't know if it
was the surgery and a long, hard day, or if A pumped me up with more
drugs. I remember thinking that if I fell asleep, I would stop
breathing and die. I would die in "childbirth" and never know my son;
he would never know me. "I feel sleepy", I told A. "That's okay," he
said, " Go to sleep." I kept fighting it, though. I didn't trust him.

I have no idea when Jason left. I was wheeled into a different room,
which I later came to find out was the recovery room. I had no idea
why I was there, no body told me what was going on. I had no idea
where Mason was, and I was too out of it to ask or to care. Angel was
sitting to my right, we chatted a little. I wonder if I even made
sense. I don't remember what we talked about, and I was still shaking
uncontrollably. I felt very cold, so I asked for a blanket, "No.
Shaking is normal" . I wanted water, "No". I was starving, "No". I
felt neglected and invisible. I looked down at my belly protruding
from underneath the sheet. It was a lot smaller, and empty. I couldn't
believe he was really not inside of me anymore. Jason came into the
recovery room. He said to me ,"He is beautiful, babe". He had a huge
smile on his face. I felt so opposite of that. I was dying inside.
He and Angel went to go see him again. I cried as they left the room,
"I want to see him too!" Then I was left alone, again. I had no idea I
was in that room for a few hours, until Jason told me months later. I
had fallen asleep. Those were the precious first hours of my son's
life, and I wasn't in them. I can never get those hours back.

When I finally did see Mason in post partum, about two hours later, I
felt detached. Jason picked up the camcorder, and filmed a nurse
handing Mason to me--I.V still stuck in my vein, looking swollen and
itching badly. It's hard to watch this now. I am holding him
awkwardly, and the nurse takes my hand and moves it to the "correct"
spot. My face looks like I am searching for something, and as I watch
this today, I cringe because I know I was searching to feel something.
It was like a nurse had handed me a random baby from the nursery. I
didn't feel any joy, and it kills me that those were my first
feelings. I just wanted to go to sleep. The nurse told me Mason was
hungry and I attempted to breastfeed. Jason stopped filming by this
time, so I have no memory of this. I remember I felt very self
conscious, and overwhelmed. After he ate, the nurse came back to take
him to the nursery again. I am hurt to admit, I was glad they took
him.

Once home, I missed the hospital. I missed being served meals, I
missed at least being able to get some sleep. Depression had started
to set in. The cesarean really started to bother me. I didn't feel
much for Mason then, either. I didn't feel anything-- I felt numb.
Jason would take Mason, and I would try to sleep, but I couldn't. I
would lay there in the bedroom, in the dark, wide awake. I was so
anxious, and I felt claustrophobic, though I didn't know why. I felt
like something was missing, and at the time, I didn't know what. It
took me a while to realize my body was mourning the death of my child.
I never went into labor on my own, there were never the hormonal
changes that needed to take place. My pregnancy was suddenly gone. It
was as if my body didn't understand my baby was right there with me.
After a few days, I finally broke down to Jason, and cried. I told him
I hated the cesarean and that I felt like a bad mother. He was my
rock during those difficult times. I am so lucky to have him.

Not a day goes by that I don't think about the cesarean at least once.
I regret so much. I hate the fact that I was so ignorant about
hospital birth. I feel angr y about how I was treated. I was ignored,
belittled and humiliated. I feel so guilty because I just couldn't
wait for Mason to come when he was ready, so I eagerly agreed to an
induction, and without even researching the risks. I feel bad for
Mason. I wish I could have been there for him in the first moments of
his life, instead he lay underneath the bright lights in the nursery,
alone. He should have been in my arms. Next time, I will be the
first to touch my baby, and I will see and feel them enter this world.
I am a woman. I am stronger than I know. I will not be cut again.

Comments

[Amy S.]

I am so sorry you had a negative experience. I hate that you were treated that way by your doctor and the hospital staff. I had a c-section in 2009, and I was grateful for the caring, compassionate treatment I received from everyone. I was able to hold my baby during my time in the recovery room, although it's a blurry memory for me because of the pain meds. I hope that you are able to have a VBAC with your next baby and that everything goes the way you want it to. You should not feel guilty or stupid though - you did what you thought you had to do and went along with what your doctor told you. I wish you had not gone through such a disappointing experience, and I'm sorry. The positive thing about it is that now you know better, and you won't be afraid to find your voice when the moment arrives. I wish you the best next time.

[stacy p]

i am in tears. that all sounds so familiar. i have had 2 c/s and am trying to deal with my loss also.

[Toni]

Everything you wrote about how you were feeling from being wheeled to the OR to after they were stitching you up is EXACTLY how I felt. As I was reading, I just kept saying, "yep, yep, YEP!" It literally makes me sick to think of women being treated this way. I will never have another unnecessary C-section. Ever.