I guess I'll start with Ashman's birth story, since that's about where I left off regularly blogging. I'm still trying to process his birth... it was disappointing and continues to bother me as I think about it. I know it went as well as it could've, and I did have the best outcome, but my experience just further frustrates me with current hospital "procedures" and "options." So, bear with me, I'll try to be less bitter than I feel at the moment; but my experience has left me wholly reconsidering my decision to enter midwifery--I doubt my ability to fight this fight.
On Thursday, May 21 I had a routine appointment with C at The Greenhouse. Everything up to this point was great. I was feeling fine, very pregnant, but good to wait out a few more weeks until the baby was ready to come on its own. However, my blood pressure was pretty high and there was protein in my urine, this is technically preeclampsia. C sent me to the lab to have blood drawn to rule out HELLP Syndrome. If the labs came back okay, I wouldn't have to check into the hospital that night. She called later saying my liver enzymes were fine, but to come in Friday afternoon to have my blood pressure and urine checked again.
Friday I baked a Guiness cake for Doc's lab, did laundry, and hung out with Silly Girl until my appointment. C met me at the birth center and took my blood pressure and checked my urine. Sure enough... high (VERY high) blood pressure and more protein. Preeclampsia, again, and serious enough to warrant a call to L&D at the hospital, a call to Doc to let him know we had to go be induced, and a lot of tears. Of course I wanted to be safe, and I wanted the baby to be safe. But I did NOT want to be at the hospital.
I picked up Doc, called the sitter for SG, and headed home to pack a hospital bag. We went to Red Robin for my last meal (big mistake with SG, not eating before the hospital. One of their more barbaric practices is to forbid you to eat while burning upwards of 5000 calories in labor.) So we ate and rehashed baby names for a girl baby. Funny, huh? We still hadn't decided on one. We dropped Silly Girl with J and D for her first non-grandparents sleep-over. When we saw her next, she would be a big sister!
Thankfully, a friendly face met us at the OB window. One of the apprentice midwives from the Greenhouse, A, would be our doula for the labor. I wasn't too sure we needed a doula, I mean, I am one, we've done this before, but we were SO grateful for her afterwards. They checked me in and all the "procedures" began. Ugh. IV. Blood pressure cuff. Then came the catheter. Hydraulic cuffs for my legs. I wouldn't be able to get up at all during labor. I could not sit up. I could not lay on my back. I had to lay on one side or the other. No food or drink. I was so depressed at the beginning. How was I supposed to get a baby out like this?! I thought, more than once, that they should just give me the goddamned c-section and let it be over.
They started the pit at 7ish I think. I started having progressive, good contractions and they continued building up until midnight. I was coping well with the pain. Doc was there to help me breathe thru the contractions, and A was getting ice for me, coffee for Doc, and just keeping an eye on us. At midnight, my contractions completely stopped. We all slept. The nurses came in and kept upping my pitocin dosage. Still, nothing was happening. Why they start your labor at night is a mystery to me... you end up awake all night! It's so STUPID. Anyway, at 4 they came in and broke my water. Probably one of the most painful experiences of the night. However, afterwards, my contractions seemed to pick up right where they left off. At about 6 I could feel the baby moving downwards in my pelvis. I knew (thank goodness) that there wouldn't be much more time until pushing. I was still breathing and moaning through the contractions. I think it was at this point that the vocalizations changed from "OHHHHHHHHH" to "oh baaaaaaaaaaaby." I had to remind myself why I was there and what I was working so hard to do: meet my baby. After a few more contractions, I felt the need to push. It was time! (And here's why normal OBs suck. Why the system generally sucks.) I told them, "I feel pushy. I'm ready to push." They said (in so many words) "You have no clue what you're talking about. We need to verify your feelings by sticking our fingers inside you." So, in yet another one of the most painful experiences of the night (keep in mind I birthed a child moments later) the OB checked my cervix and exclaimed "I have confirmed this woman's feelings. She is about an 8, let's get ready!" And so, without their permission, I began to push with my contractions. Who the hell knows what they were doing, scrambling around, breaking down the bed, getting the warmer ready. (I'm guessing, I've seen them do it all before. It's a very exciting time as a doula. As the mother, you aren't paying that much attention.) So, I pushed. I think they put in a scalp monitor on the baby, but I'm not sure. He had a scrape on his head that leads me to believe they DID. It only took my about 10 minutes to push him out, but everyone was all stressed and freaking me out. He came out, SCREAMING! And Doc told me "It's a boy!" (He had tears in his eyes, it was so sweet.) Here's the part I was so grateful for A: Doc could be over with our baby, who we now knew was Ashman, and A could be there with me while I felt the GREATEST RELIEF OF MY LIFE. No more contractions! Think about having to pee really, really bad. And to not know when you would ever pee. And then you finally sit down and pee. AHHHHH. It felt 1000000000x better than that. However, the relief was short-lived. I delivered the placenta (very cool organ by the way) and the OB saw that I had torn a little. No big deal, right? WRONG. In the absolutely most painful part of the night (well now morning) the two residents seemed to have forgotten that I hadn't had an epidural. They yanked around and stitched down there while I yelled and cried. It was awful and entirely more painful than actually birthing the baby. And that did hurt. A LOT.
I finally got to see my beautiful boy. He was so big compared to his sister, even at only 7 lbs. I felt great after, but because of the preeclampsia, I had to stay on the awful mag sulfate for a full 24 hours. Meaning after that incredible, exhausting experience, I couldn't clearly see my baby (my vision was blurry) nor could I hold him on my own (my muscles were to weak). I couldn't get up to go pee, I had to wear those crazy socks on my legs, I couldn't even have a drink of water. By 6:30am the next day, I was done with all of it. Thankfully, I could finally come off the meds and start getting back to normal. I could finally see the baby and hold him.
I had to stay in the hospital until Monday. I survived. I had my beautiful baby and a beautiful family. I don't like how things turned out. I hate that I had preeclampsia with both kids. I hate that I've never experience labor on my own terms. But, I guess that'll have to do for now... and I have some great results for my not-so-happy work:
And here we are, 3 months later, with lots of adventures under our belts. He is a sweet baby and we are very grateful for such a wonderful addition to our family. (We're DONE.)
