Wow, it sure is quiet around here lately. I had to wipe away the cobwebs and fend off some rather fierce looking dust bunnies but I’ve successfully located my keyboard.
It’s feels a bit strange to be blogging from the other side of this pregnancy. I’ve spent many minutes (more than I’d care to admit) writing this birth story in my head. I think I started writing it before we ever decided to have a 3rd child. And in all of those rough drafts never would I have imagined our story to turn out like it did.
For those who like to stick to the facts; Hudson August Stange was born on November 15th at 2:05am. He weighed in at 9lbs 2oz at a length of 21.5 inches.
If you are interested in the slightly longer version, it goes a little something like this…
Where to start? When my water broke? When active labor started? No, I think I’ll go back a bit farther. When I was pregnant with my eldest daughter I made it to my due date and showed no signs of impending labor. I inquired about induction and was told there was no point inducing me if my body wasn’t prepared for labor (i.e., no effacement, dilation or engagement). I was scheduled for a planned c-section three days after my due date. On 3/3/05 I walked into the hospital and 90 minutes later I had a baby. After spending 35 minutes with my arms strapped down to the operating table and another hour in recovery I finally got to see my baby. I carried her in my belly for 9 long months but I wasn’t the first or even the second person in my family to hold her. But I had a healthy baby and I survived the surgery so I was grateful and happy...mostly.
When Kate was two she drew me a picture of a woman on a table and a tiny little blob in a bin near the woman. I asked her what the picture was and she said it was a woman having a baby, and the baby was in the bin crying because it wasn’t with its mama. No one had told Kate the details of how she was born or what a c-section was but she did a really good job of drawing her own birth. That moment was the beginning of my quest for a VBAC. If you aren’t familiar with the term, VBAC stands for vaginal birth after c-section.
Fast forward two years to my second pregnancy. During the two years between pregnancies I became involved in the natural birthing community, educated myself on the risks of VBACs, repeat c-sections and determined what I wanted for my second experience with childbirth. After signing every single consent form my doctor’s office handed me, they agreed to let me “attempt” a VBAC. We took a Hypnobirthing class and every day for the final 22 weeks of my pregnancy I practiced for, prayed over and visualized my VBAC. Unfortunately, the closer I got to my due date the more restrictions my OBGYN’s practice started to place on me. I could labor but I had to have an IV. I didn’t have to have anesthesia but I needed to have an epidural in place in a case of emergency. I could be mobile during labor but I had to be tethered to the monitors. So I planned to labor at home until the last possible moment hoping to arrive at the hospital when it was too late for an epidural. Then my due date came and went. I began driving across town to the hospital for stress tests every three days. My doctor begged me to schedule a repeat c-section. Eventually, David and I agreed to set a deadline. If labor didn’t start spontaneously by 14 days past my due date I would have another c-section. The stress and pressure of the impending deadline was miserable. The doctors had me convinced that I was going to harm my child if I went more than two weeks post due date. As if my placenta had an expiration date upon which it would simply cease to function. So on 10/20/07 I walked in to a hospital and 90 minutes later I had a baby. After spending 35 minutes with my arms strapped down to the operating table and another two hours incoherently vomiting alone in recovery I finally got to see my baby. I was so sick and out of my mind on pain meds that I couldn’t hold her without fear of dropping her. It was 12 hours before I could hold her on my own and clearly see her sweet face. But I had another healthy baby girl (a little sister!) and I survived the surgery so I should have been grateful and happy.
Life with two girls was busy and time flew by while we debated having a 3rd. I wanted one and David wasn’t ready. Then David wanted one, maybe two more and I wasn’t ready. Did I really want to go through major surgery for a THIRD time? How on earth would I manage the recovery with the demands of work, two small children and all the daily tasks of family life? Finally, we were in agreement and before we knew it, Bee (baby three) was on his way. November 6th, 2010 was set as the official due date.
Initially I told my doctor to sign me up for the c-section. I knew the risks for VBAC were no greater after two c-sections than after one but what doctor would agree to let me try? After dealing with all of the hassle, resistance and disappointment that accompanied Elise’s birth, I didn’t have the temerity for a second attempt. Or so I thought. Somewhere around 20 weeks I came to my senses. So I reacquainted myself with the risks of repeat surgery vs. VBA2C, hospital vs. homebirth and OBGYN vs. midwifery based prenatal care. After lots of discussion, meetings with homebirth professionals and discussions with my OBGYN’s practitioners we decided to go for it. We felt that given enough time my body would go into labor and that home would be the safest place to labor and birth. The plan was set; unless there was a need for emergent care we would not travel to the hospital. We would not have a backup plan of a scheduled c-section. Homebirth or bust!
This time we opted for the Hypnobabies home study course and I spent three months listening to my daily meditations and visualizing my homebirth VBAC. I had been experiencing Braxton-Hicks contractions from 22 weeks on and unlike my previous pregnancies they were increasing in frequency and duration. By the time I hit 37 weeks I was having an occasional painful contraction, the kind that stops you in your tracks. It was all very encouraging. I just knew this time was going to be different. The pregnancy itself was notably different from the girls’ and I joked that our little guy would surprise us all and arrive early. Starting at 38 weeks I’d wake up every day wondering “is today THE day?”. The days passed and the contractions and discomfort increased. My due date came and went. This time there was no deadline and there was no stress. On Friday, 11/12, I saw my acupuncturist for my second labor induction treatment. I spent the rest of the morning doing carpool, lunch and post school afternoon routine. I felt a bit “off” but assumed it was just our hectic schedule, lack of sleep and general discomfort of being VERY pregnant that was catching up with me. I asked David to come home an hour early and we went for a short walk around the neighborhood. As the day wore on I knew something was different. I wasn’t sure that the something was labor but I put my doula on notice. I took a nap and when I woke up we decided to take the girls out to dinner. After a delicious Indian meal we brought the girls home and got them ready for bed. That’s when it happened. I was leaning over to help Kate into her bed when I felt my water break. Honestly, never having experienced it before I wasn’t sure what had happened. I said goodnight to Kate and made my way downstairs. After speaking with my doula and the rest of my support team we agreed I would call them back when I needed them to come over.
What followed was 54 hours of labor. What can I say about 54 hours of active labor? The last four hours being the exception, I think it sounds worse than it was in reality. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t my favorite way to spend an entire weekend but it certainly didn’t resemble any of the labors you see on TV. I was surrounded by a very helpful and knowledgeable group of women. Most importantly, David was there to offer love and support. My sister watched the girls which allowed David to focus on me. It helped knowing that Kate and Elise were safe, well fed and having fun. As long as David was with me I felt safe and up to the challenge. Everyone kept telling me how great I was doing but I didn’t feel great. I didn’t feel like I was doing anything special, I was just …existing… moment by moment. I was able to sleep for a few minutes here and there but mostly I stayed awake. I tried to rest with my eyes closed but lying down was too painful. My perception of time was skewed, some minutes felt like hours and hours passed in what felt like seconds and it seemed like I lived a lifetime inside of one day.
Over the course of the weekend my birth team tried everything they could to coax my body into cooperation. Nothing worked and slowly the odds started to stack up against me. I felt terrible that Kate and Elise would leave in the morning, spend the day at my sister’s house and come home hoping to see their baby brother only to find a very pregnant mommy. Sometime around 7pm on Sunday I had a mini breakdown. I did not want to face the possibility of going to the hospital because I was still holding out hope for my homebirth. After a long discussion we decided that 9pm was our deadline. If things didn’t change for the better by that time we would go to the hospital. I knew what that meant. No doctor would take a walk-in patient at 41 weeks with a broken bag of waters and 2 previous c-sections and let them VBAC. Going to the hospital meant accepting the idea of a 3rd c-section. Once we had a plan in place I felt much better. When we made it to 9pm with no change I was ready to go. I had given everything I had to labor, my birth team had pulled out all the stops. There was nothing we didn’t try and so I was left with no doubt that going to the hospital was the right choice. I made a few phone calls, bid my birth team farewell and started to pack for our drive downtown.
I won’t go into details but what followed were four of the LONGEST hours of my life. By the time we got to the hospital and prepped for surgery I was completely out of my mind. After 50 hours of labor and no sleep since Thursday night I was running on empty. I was emotionally and physically exhausted. I would have done anything at that point just to put an end to the pain and meet my baby. I had to answer a lot of questions about why I had no record of prenatal care at my doctor’s office past 20 weeks, why I didn’t schedule my c-section ahead of time and sign a lot of papers saying I understood the risk of surgery, etc. etc.. Finally just before 2am on Monday morning they escorted me into the OR and administered my spinal anesthesia. Once the pain subsided and I had my bearings I was able to focus on the impending event. They brought David into the operating room and told him to get the camera ready.
And that is how baby Bee was born via c-section at 2:05am on Monday November 15th.
Epilogue:
After spending 35 minutes with my arms strapped down to the operating table they wheeled me into recovery where I planned to stay by myself. Imagine my surprise when they opened the doors and there was David. He was watching baby Bee and waiting for me. Bee and I spent the next 90 minutes snuggling under toasty warm hospital blankets until the nurses gave us the green light and sent us to our room.
It took a day or two but after months of discussion we finally decided on the name Hudson August. Hudson still spends most of his day sleeping. When he’s not sleeping or eating his sisters like to hold him, rub his fuzzy hair and sing him silly songs.
His birth story isn’t what I imagined or even close to what I hoped for but he’s here! We both survived surgery and I have a healthy baby…and for that I am grateful and happy.
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