NaturalChildbirth.org

[swede]

Sorry this is so long, but I had to explain my son's birth for you to understand how incredible my daughter's birth was.

In April of 2007, my son--my first child--was delivered via c-section, making me the "one" in that statistic that goes "One in three women in the U.S. delivers her baby by cesarean." It was a hard pill to swallow. I spent months feeling broken, frustrated, taken advantage of, and horribly, horribly angry. I am still angry.

Because I have type 1 diabetes, obstetricians are afraid I'll have "big babies," and insist on inducing me as soon as my baby is in the "safe zone." The obstetrician that I was seeing during my first pregnancy had me come in weekly for tests during the last trimester; I kept insisting I didn't want to be induced (my baby was measuring perfectly normal and my blood sugars were well in hand). The doctor kept insisting that it would be necessary for my baby's safety to take him early, and, at several early visits, mentioned that a c-section might be necessary due to "small pelvic structure."

At 37 weeks, the weekly biophysical profile came back abnormal; apparently my son wasn't practice breathing. I was too uninformed to order the test again (or just tell the doctor "no thanks,"), so we agreed to an induction--for the baby's well-being.

The induction didn't go well. The pitocin did nothing at first, so the nurses kept turning it up, and I was dilating steadily, but slowly. Then, the pitocin kicked in too hard, and I ended up begging for an epidural because I couldn't even get a breath in--I had a solid contraction for about 30 minutes, maybe closer to an hour. The nurse checked my tape, gasped, and rushed over to turn down the pitocin. Contractions became manageable, but the epidural was already ordered, so we agreed to it anyway.

The doctor came in about fifteen minutes afterward and checked my tape and said, "I'm getting non-reassuring heart tones. We need to do an emergency c-section." Again, I was too uninformed to say "no thanks." I didn't realize that EFM is notoriously unreliable, or that amniotomies (which had been performed earlier), especially when performed in early labor, can cause fetal distress, nor that pitocin can cause those non-reassuring heart tones. So I agreed to the c-section. It didn't feel right, though--it didn't feel like it was the right decision, but I did it to save my baby, because I didn't know any better.

I spent the next two years angry that I hadn't known enough to prevent a very unnecessary c-section. Frustrated that we'd had such a difficult time establishing breastfeeding. Disappointed that I hadn't even really gotten a chance at a vaginal delivery. I spent four months recovering from major abdominal surgery, while adjusting to life with a newborn that knew how to do two things only: nurse and scream.

I felt betrayed; I felt that I'd had my birth commandeered by a doctor that just wanted to get that baby out, without giving any thought to the physiological processes of birth, or my wishes, or the true facts of the situation. I researched and studied and worked through the whole birth experience. I learned about the untold risks of c-section, how difficult it is to VBAC at most hospitals, about all the different interventions that often lead to undesirable ends. My husband and I decided that the next time we had a baby, we would have it at home with a midwife.

In researching homebirth, I often read this statement in its defense: "Studies show that homebirth is as safe or safer than hospital birth for the majority of low-risk pregnancies." That statement frustrated me because, on paper, I'm not even close to being low risk. I'm diabetic and I've had a previous c-section. Obstetricians see me as a malpractice suit waiting to happen, and, I discovered after I became pregnant with my second child 13 months after my c-section, that licensed midwives in my area won't touch me. It doesn't matter that I'm responsible enough to take charge of my health and my baby's health; that I am informed enough to know that I can eliminate all, or nearly all, of the risks associated with diabetes in pregnancy, simply by keeping my blood sugar under control, and that I'm willing to do what it takes to eliminate those risks. I'm not low risk. Homebirth isn't safe for me.

After being turned down by the one licensed midwife in my area (and the only midwife I could find), I went to see a doctor that had been recommended to me as being open to VBACs. I was thoroughly impressed with his understanding of the birthing process, and his willingness to allow it to occur naturally, but when he found out I am diabetic, he told me that the hospital wouldn't allow him to attend me--I had to be referred to the hospital obstetricians as a "high-risk" case.

The hospital obstetrician said that they might allow me to VBAC, but they would have to induce me at 39 weeks (because induction of labor is so safe for a scarred uterus), and they gave me a horror sheet that I was supposed to sign telling me how my uterus would explode and my baby would die and I would hemorrhage to death if I tried to VBAC so why don't I just stop arguing with them and agree to the c-section. I decided I would birth at home alone if I had to, but I would not subject my body to another c-section, or my baby to an unnecessary unnatural birth.

Around then, a lady I had met at church gave me the name of her midwife--an unlicensed midwife--who, she said, might be willing to help me out. I called the midwife and explained my situation to her. She agreed to meet me for a consultation, and asked me to gather any information I had on diabetes in pregnancy, so she could know what she was getting into.

At the consultation, we talked for several hours about my medical history, my son's birth, my blood sugar, my goals for this pregnancy and birth, and the advantages and disadvantages of homebirth. She told me to pray about it, and she would do the same, and to call her in a week or two and we'd see what we came up with. Finally, she agreed to take me on.

Midwife-attended pregnancy was almost too good to be true for me, considering my hospital experiences. My midwife didn't treat me like my body was broken, her visits were never centered on all the risks of pregnancy, she never performed internal exams, and the word induction was never mentioned. I felt like I could relax and just--be pregnant. And, best of all, everything took place in the comfort of my living room.

When I reached 40 weeks, I felt like throwing a party. I carried my baby to my due date without instantaneously combusting. By 40 weeks and a day, though, I was wondering what the hold up was. Everyone around me was telling me how foolish I was being for not going in for an induction. As one lady said, "You know, that baby isn't getting smaller the longer you wait, and it's not like you've had a baby go through your pelvis before. You're in for a long, hard birth!" Thanks for the encouragement.

My husband and I had been walking regularly throughout the pregnancy, but once I passed my due date, we started trying in earnest to get the baby to come. I took EPO, we had intercourse, walked more vigorously, and prayed. Hard. At my 41-week visit, my blood pressure was elevated and I had trace amounts of protein in my urine; my midwife was a little concerned, leaving me with chemstrips to check for protein, and instructions to check my blood pressure regularly.

By 42 weeks, my blood pressure wasn't coming down, and my midwife said, "You know, I don't want to be irresponsible about this; I think we need to talk about going to the hospital if labor hasn't come by tomorrow night." I knew no hospital in the world would let me labor at this point, being diabetic, 42-weeks pregnant, with high blood pressure and a scarred uterus. So I decided it was time to get serious. I took homeopathic versions of blue and black cohosh through the night and into the next morning. I doubled my EPO, had intercourse at regular intervals, and had everyone I knew pray that labor would start.

By the next afternoon, nothing was happening, so I broke down and took a little castor oil--I had been resisting the castor oil trick because I'd wanted to let labor start on its own, without assistance. But I was desperate. So I figured castor oil is better than a c-section.

After the ill effects of the castor oil wore off (about four hours later), I waited for labor to start. Only it didn't. Finally, around eleven at night, nearly eight hours after I took the castor oil, I had a contraction. I didn't get very excited, though, because I'd been having contractions on and off for the past month. Around midnight, my husband suggested another round of intercourse. By the time we were done, my contractions were stronger and frequent enough that we started timing them. By 1:30, we called the midwife to tell her that we were pretty sure labor had started. She told us to call back in thirty minutes with an update, while she made sure her driveway had been shoveled enough for her to get out.

At 3:30 my water broke, and labor got underway in earnest. By 6:30, my contractions were so strong that my husband had to rub my back through them. I was in transition when my son woke up at 8:30, and my husband got his things together and shipped him off to a friend's house. By the time he was gone, I felt like I needed to start pushing.

I was exhausted by now because I hadn't slept since the previous night, so I just pushed while lying on my side. I didn't feel like the baby was descending in this position, so I mustered up my energy and got on my hands and knees; after just a few pushes, my beautiful daughter plopped out onto the bed.

I was so thankful to be able to put my daughter to my breast while the cord pulsed out and we waited for the placenta to be delivered. I was thankful to be able to be in my own room during the entire labor process, surrounded by everything that is familiar to me. I was thankful to be calling the shots for my baby's birth instead of being manipulated by doctors or hospital policy. I was thankful that I could experience natural labor--all of it, even the pain. I was thankful to not be recovering from major abdominal surgery.

I know homebirth isn't for everyone, and that some women truly are safer delivering in a hospital (although that is hard for me to imagine). But I think women like me are being thrown to the wolves simply because we're not "low risk." I think any woman who is willing to take complete responsibility for herself and her pregnancy shouldn't be called "high risk." She'll know when she needs to get help and she'll do what she needs to do. I wish more women were given the chance my midwife gave me.

[Alison]

And that's the second time that story has brought tears to my eyes! I'm so glad you got the healing birth that you needed the second time around. I only wish it could have been the same the first time. Kudos to you for being persistent in finding the help you needed.
_________________
"The truth shall set you free, but first it will make you mad."

"And the time came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom"

[nursing911]

What a beatiful story!!! And such strong faith!...Congratulations!
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Leah

[Alison]

I find it interesting, too, that there's no medium-risk. You're either low-risk or high-risk. I dare say there's some place in between with health issues that bear watching, but aren't disasters waiting to happen.
_________________
"The truth shall set you free, but first it will make you mad."

"And the time came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom"

[swede]

[Alison]

[Lindsey]

Loved your birth story, Swede! I'm so happy that you got exactly what you hoped for and envisioned!