Woot woot!

The unedited first draft of my birth story. I hope to edit it and change the format and add photos when I get the chance:

On the 15^th of November, I gave birth. I did it! I actually pushed a baby out of my vagina! I know women do that every day. But not me.  I have two older children. When talking about the day they entered the world, I use the word delivered. I don’t feel like I birthed them. They were delivered in a room that was too bright, by gloved hands. They were taken from a surgical cut in my uterus and dangled above a lowered screen for me to see before being taken away, rubbed off all their birthy goodness, wrapped and returned to me to hold awkwardly.

My oldest daughter was breech. Either she flipped late, or they just kept missing it. I didn’t feel her flip but who knows. I went for an appointment at 39 weeks and 5 days. They had me back in the morning for surgery. I wish I knew then what I know now: That babies can turn head down at any point, chiropractic can help, breech is a variation of normal, and spontaneous labour before a c-section is better than an “elective c-section” without labouring.

My middle child was supposed to be my VBAC baby. Again, I wish I was more educated then. Looking back, I can see each time I made a mistake and how it bought me that step closer to the knife. I fell into the trap of the hospital system again and although I swore I’d fight them, when push came to shove, I was vulnerable and I gave in. I will write his full birth story one day.

When I came home from the hospital after my second section, I researched and researched. How could I do things differently? I emailed several midwives; would they support HBA2C? Not a single one emailed me back. Sure, I’d only just had my second section so I had heaps of time, but I was looking for someone to give me just a little bit of hope.

Time passed and I buried my feelings and got on with being a mother of two. I desperately wanted to be pregnant again, and yearned for another go at birth, but I was not ready for another baby. I felt so confused by that. What if I was never ready for another baby? Would I have one just to get the birth I wanted? What if I had another baby, but ended up with another c-section? So many questions that I struggled to answer.

About 15 months after my second surgery, a friend had her baby in the same hospital I was at. She had no problems. Induced labour, no pain relief, pushed her baby out without any problems. What the heck was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I do that? Again, I started researching and emailing midwives. Hubby could see how much I was hurting and assured me I could have our next baby at home and that I would do it. He was ready to start trying. I wasn’t.

Again, so many of my emails went unanswered. The ones that did get a reply all contained a variation of the same message: “please call to make an appointment”.

One night, I walked up to hubby, grinning from ear to ear. I’d finally gotten the reply I was after: “happy to support HBA2C”. There was a lot of information attached.

A few months later, I finally felt ready for another baby. 1 month later, I was pregnant.

I made an appointment with an obstetrician who has a reputation for being pro vaginal birth. I came away in tears. Uterine rupture, maternal death, fetal death. We discussed it all. He was willing to support me, but would not recommend a home birth given my twice scarred uterus. The stats for rupture risk were much higher than what I’d researched myself.

I still proceeded to make an appointment with the midwife who’d emailed me back. By this stage, hubby was very unsure. He was scared of something going wrong. I asked him to meet with the midwife, and if he still wasn’t comfortable after that, we would look at some other options.

The midwife came and we discussed everything that could go wrong and how it would be managed. A week later, we agreed that home birth was for us.

The pregnancy passed fairly uneventfully. We had a scan at 12 weeks to make sure there was only one baby as I was measuring about 4 weeks ahead. My 20 week scan showed a low lying placenta but a re-scan at 35 weeks showed it had moved up more than enough.

I loved every minute of being pregnant, despite my first experience with SPD (symphasis pubis dysfunction). I went to the chiropractor regularly and did what I could to prepare for the birth.

My midwife was very passionate about optimal fetal positioning. Towards the end of my pregnancy, bubs decided that being posterior was most comfortable. An adjustment at the chiro would help for a day before bubs turned back.

Braxton hicks started early this time around. Somewhere around 15 weeks. From about 35 weeks, they were accompanied with mild period pain. I was terrified I’d go into premature labour and would lose my homebirth. I made it to 37 weeks, just one more week and I’d have the birth pool I’d hired. Every day, the Braxton hicks became more and more intense. I refused to pay too much attention to them because I knew that pre-labour could come and go. One of my mistakes with my failed VBAC was paying too much attention to pre/early labour and getting too excited too quickly.

I loved every minute of anticipation, wondering if the contraction I’d just had was the start of something more. In a way, I didn’t want to go into labour because then that anticipation would be over.

At 39 weeks, 5 days, the contractions started to feel different. I still didn’t think much of it. Hubby stayed away for work that night and although I was sure it would still be a while off, I reminded him to keep his phone nearby. I woke a few times to contractions overnight but nothing more.

The following day, the contractions were even more intense. I had a midwife appointment that afternoon and a busy morning. I had to breathe through contractions, but they were not regular. I might have them 10 minutes apart for half an hour, then nothing for an hour. Hubby decided to stay away for work another night to get some more hours in.

When the midwife declared that bubs was anterior again I was so relieved. I’d being doing everything I could to encourage a good position but up til then, posterior was definitely the favourite. The midwife didn’t feel that the contractions I’d been having were anything to get too excited about. She actually gave me a little speech about what to do during pre-labour. When I mentioned that I understood what I was experiencing could go on for days or weeks yet, her reply was “I don’t think this is prelabour”. But almost as soon as she left, the contractions picked up intensity again. Still not regular but I now found myself getting on all fours to get through some of them. Still, the knowledge that this could go on for days had me not paying too much attention to them.

At 7:00pm, I decided to trial the TENS machine just in case things heated up. I wanted to have a bit of practice using it before I really needed it. Shortly after putting it on, the contractions got somewhat more intense. I was still convinced it would be at least a few more days before I actually went into labour. Although the contractions were intense, they were still so inconsistent and usually far apart.

The TENS did help a bit through some of the contractions but they were still bearable anyway. At 9:30, I called hubby to say goodnight after sending him a screen shot of some contractions I’d timed; still fairly short and irregular.

At 10:30pm, after an hour’s sleep, I woke to a very strong contraction. It took my breath away and I struggled through it, unable to focus after being caught completely by surprise. I rolled around on the bed, almost like I was trying to roll away from the pain. I think I fell asleep again straight after and another strong one woke me. I decided to wait for one more, then call hubby. Another came, I put the TENS back on and called hubby. I was still in denial. It could still be ages away, I told him, but I needed him now. He was just having some dinner so told me he’d be home in just over an hour.

I breathed through a few more contractions, now anywhere from 5 to 10 minutes apart. I messaged my photographer/doula (Amy) to see if she was still awake and she agreed to head over around midnight, the same time hubby was due home. I was still in denial and was sure she was coming too early.

Hubby was delayed so Amy arrived about 20 minutes before him. She took one look at me and asked if I’d called Helen, my midwife. I wasn’t sure the contractions were close enough or long enough. I looked at my phone which I’d been using the time the contractions. I was surprised to see they were already 2 minutes apart and had become regular. I’d been watching my phone as I timed the contractions because I liked seeing how long they were. I knew when I saw 45 on the screen that the contraction was nearly over. But I hadn’t looked at the bigger picture that told me how long they were or how far apart.  

Amy called Helen who  listened through a few contractions and asked if I wanted her to come yet. I didn’t want her to get here too early. We decided that I should try the shower and that would either help things speed up or slow down. I got off the phone and despite agreeing to the shower plan, I didn’t want to get in the shower. Being upright made the contractions come on top of each other. Shorter, but much more frequently. I stayed on the couch, making sure I was on my left, still aware of optimal fetal positioning.

Amy helped me through a few more contractions before hubby showed up. Shortly after, I threw up. Hubby rang Helen again and she agreed to head over. She still wasn’t convinced I was in active labour. Again, she wanted me in the shower, but I couldn’t. I wanted to be in the pool.

Amy and hubby started filling the pool. The hot water ran out when it was about half way full but I wasn’t waiting. I got straight in. The warm water felt amazing, but I struggled with the shallow water level.

Hubby headed out to his Mum’s to get an extra kettle and an urn. While he was gone, our daughter woke up and came into the room. We’d spoken about her being there for the birth and decided to play it by ear. I really wanted her there if she was coping with it all, but hubby was unsure. Turns out we didn’t have to worry about a thing. She coped really well with everything she saw and was a great help. We cuddled through a few contractions and she gave me sips of water when they were over.

Helen arrived while I was still in the shallow pool. I noticed that she came in with all her equipment. Seeing that helped as it told me she believed bubs was definitely on the way.

 She asked me to hop out so she could check bub’s position. Every time I decided to move I had to gear myself up; “just one more contraction, then I’ll get out”, but then the contraction would be over and I’d relax and miss my chance. I wanted to get up as soon as I could after a contraction because I was scared of being caught in the middle of one in some horrible position like half in the pool.

I got out of the pool and took a quick trip to the toilet. The contractions on the toilet were the worst. Again, my movements made me feel like I was trying to move away from the pain.

I finally got back to the loungeroom and on the couch. Helen checked bub’s position and had a quick listen to the heart rate. Bubs was happy.

I stayed on the couch for a while. At some point, I entered the “twilight zone”. That strange time when you have no concept of time at all. Through each contraction, I would roll on to my side and grab the handle of the pool which was just in front of me. In between contractions I’d flop onto my back and doze.

The contractions were intense. At one stage, I remember chanting through one, saying “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t” over and over.  Helen said “you can” and I replied, “No! I am, I am, Iam”.

I started to shake and although I didn’t realise it at the time, I was started to bear down slightly at the end of each contraction. I didn’t think of it as bearing down. All I knew is that doing whatever I was doing made the contractions less intense. I started to feel a new sort of pain with the contractions. The baby was moving and it hurt. I didn’t realise that it was moving down. All I knew is that I was focused on my breathing and working through a contraction then I’d feel this extra pain that would completely blow my concentration. I started crying out “it hurts, it hurts”. I think Helen was a bit concerned by how pain I seemed to be in but I reassured her it was just when the baby was moving. She kept telling me it was normal. I guess she has to do a lot of reassuring especially with VBAC women, but I had to concerns about anything I felt. I knew my body would do what it needed and never once worried about anything going wrong. When Helen told me again that it was all normal, I remember replying “I know it’s normal! It just freakin’ hurts!!”

Eventually the pool was full but I was so in the zone I didn’t want to get up.

Finally, they urged me to get back in the pool so after another trip to the toilet complete with shaking and me asking the midwife if I was in transition (to which she replied, “your body is just working really hard”), I hopped in. The warm water was perfect.

The contractions were still just as intense. From reading water birth stories, I kind of expected the water to take the pain away. It didn’t, but being in the water meant I could move so much better through them. I was on my hands and knees rocking backward and forward.

I was in the pool a very short time before I got the urge to push. The contractions that came with the urge were such a relief, they no longer hurt. I came out of the twilight zone. I talked in between contractions. I remember telling my husband that I wanted to go to sleep and that I’d get back to having our baby after I’d had a nap.  

The urge to push was bizarre. It’s like nothing I can describe. I’d read birth stories where women never felt the urge to push and others where they never really pushed and baby just came out with little effort. When I got the urge to push there was no stopping it. The noises that came out of me where primal and I surprised myself with how loud they were. It wasn’t just that I was going with the flow and doing what I felt I needed. I could not have done it differently if someone said I had to. In fact, I have vague recollections of the midwife telling me to go slow, but I wasn’t in control. Whatever was happening was happening from somewhere deep within. It was amazing and I attribute that to not trying to control it. My body knew what it was doing and I was just along for the ride.

I’m not sure how many contractions I pushed through. My birth notes say I pushed for about 40 minutes. It felt like no more than 10.

After one of the pushes, I felt something come out but it certainly didn’t feel like a head. It was my bag of water, still intact. Amy took a photo and showed me. Pretty amazing to see.  I vaguely remember Helen calling the secondary midwife and the new graduate who was following my pregnancy and letting them know it was time to head over.

A few more (who knows how many), contractions later and I could feel the head starting to crown. Another and there was that ring of fire. Holy moly that hurt. I practically screamed “SHIT!” Then realised my daughter was standing right there and unsuccessfully tried to censor myself by trying to turn it into “shivers!”. This resulted in me saying “SHIT-vers” and giggles all around the room.  I could tell I was going to tear, but I had expected any pain/burning/tearing to be of my perineum. Instead, my perineum remained intact and didn’t even hurt. I felt a pop which ended up being two labial tears. As much as that pop hurt, it was a very short, sharp pain and after that, there was no more ring of fire. Out came the head and while everyone else “oohed and aahed” I waited patiently for the next contraction. No way was I waiting any longer than that. One more contraction and another huge roar from somewhere deep inside that I didn’t know existed and at 4:30am, out slid a baby! I knew hubby wanted to catch him and bring him to me but the position I was in didn’t make that easy. Hubby keeps telling everyone I snatched him, but really, I kind of came to when the midwife told me to bring him forward and I remembered that I actually had to lift him up, not just squeeze him out. So I grabbed him quickly and bought him up to my chest. That moment is actually kind of blurry in my memory. I remember feeling relief, amazement, exhaustion. A whole range of things. I don’t remember saying “I could do that again”, but apparently I did.

The secondary and new grad midwives both turned up just before bubs was born.

Bubs was a bit slow to breath and the midwives had to use the mask in the end but everything was fine.

After a few minutes, we asked our daughter to have a look and tell us whether we had a boy or a girl. She was so excited to be the one to tell us we had a boy.

I thought she might be disappointed that she didn’t get a sister but there was no mention of it. I can’t describe how amazing it was having her there. I was so glad to be able to share something that huge with her, and so glad that she was able to witness normal birth first hand. She’s already shown us that she will have an amazing bond with her little brother.

We settled on the name Finley John and the little guy had his first feed in the pool while we waited for the placenta. 2 hours later there was still no sign of it. I agreed to try hopping out of the pool and on to the toilet. We tried pressure points and a few tricks to try and get me to urinate. Another half an hour and no placenta or wee and I agreed to a managed third stage. I’m disappointed I didn’t have a natural third stage and the midwives were happy to keep waiting but I was done.

Birthing the placenta was a bizarre sensation. I hadn’t expected it to feel so huge, especially considering I’d just pushed out a baby! But unlike the pushing when Finley was crowning, this time I was in control. There was no real urge to push so I had to really work hard.

Hubby cut the cord and the placenta was taken away for inspection, a placenta print and preparation for a smoothie. I regret not asking to have a good look at the placenta. At the time, it crossed my mind but I was too distracted by my new little squish. I know that Amy got some good pictures of it so I look forward to seeing them.

The midwives took Finley and weighed and measured him. Although I suspected I was having a big bub, I did not expect to hear that he was 9lb, 8oz! He just didn’t look that big to me, probably because he’s in perfect proportion with his 54 cm length and 37cm head circumference!

Looking back, it’s kind of amazing how it all panned out. I’d said all along that my perfect birth would involve pre-labour during the day that wasn’t quite enough to stop me from what I was doing, followed by established and active labour throughout the night with bubs arriving before I needed anyone to come and get the kids. I did not really want anyone knowing I was in labour because I didn’t want them bugging us for news. I’d also said I didn’t want a particularly short labour because I wanted the experience, but that 6 hours sounded nice. It was 10:30pm when the contractions woke me, and Finley arrived at 4:30am! I pretty much got everything I’d jokingly “planned”.

Turn, baby, turn!

This little stinker has gone and put itself in a posterior position. I've been doing all my optimal fetal positioning 90% of the time... upped it to 100% today and spent most of my spare time on my hands and knees, but bubs is being stubborn. I'm sure it's the cause of my prodromal labour: intense braxton hicks each evening. Not bad enough that I have to breath through them, but not just tightenings either. 

I'm now 38+4 and I can't believe how time has flown. I want this bub in a good position, but at the same time, I'm actually enjoying the prodromal labour. I love the anticipation of not knowing if this time will be *the* time; Of wondering if I'll have a baby in my arms by morning, or not for another few weeks. Call me crazy!!

I have the birth pool now which is a relief. I was so sure I'd have the baby before it arrived, just because I expect things to not go right for me. 

I just can't wait to do this, but at the same time, I'm not ready for this journey to be over. I hope those emotions don't hinder labour for me. I know many women have some emotional "baggage" they have to let go of to really allow labour to take hold so it's a good possibility that not wanting it to end is my baggage. 

Time for some meditation, I think. Time to remind myself how excited I am to finally meet this baby!!!!

Maybe tonight, maybe another 4 weeks!

As I get closer and closer to the big event, I find myself wanting to write more about it. I'm 37+2 today and things are definitely gearing up. Braxton hicks are getting more and more intense, and I just feel... different. Like my body is gearing up or winding down... I can't decide.

I know it doesn't give any indication of when I will actually go into labour, but I can just feel that something's coming (apparently, a baby!). I can't explain it any other way. I just feel strange.

As excited as I am each time another intense braxton hicks contraction hits, I am really hoping bubs stays in at least until Thursday so I have the birthing pool. I can't help but feel like I'll actually be a bit disappointed if I have to birth out of the pool. It's all I imagine. I'm sure at the end of the day, it will be fine without the pool too! I've also got tickets to Twilight on the 17th so if bubs wants to stay in until then, he/she is more than welcome!

I think I have everything sorted and all in one place: the towels, the straws, the plastic sheets etc. I went through it again today and double crossed everything off my list. Only a couple of less-than-essential items to add.

Have also decided that instead of encapsulating my placenta, I'm going to do placenta smoothies. I've heard of these a million times and always been totally grossed out by the thought. But with the price associated with encapsulation, it's just not going to be an option. My midwives are happy to chop up my placenta and freeze it for me so that I just need to pop a bit in with my smoothie and I won't even taste it. Still kind of grosses me out and I probably will only do it if baby blues hit or something like that. Maybe I'll save it for when my PMS strikes again, although I'm hoping I get another 9+ month reprieve like the last two times!

Only other news is that I'm somewhat worried about bub's position at the minute. I can normally get a good handle on how he/she is lying but at the minute, there seems to be baby everywhere in there. I'm worried he/she may be transverse. But, as hubby said, there's no point worrying for now. I'm keeping up with my optimal fetal positioning and that's all I can really do. Will just have to wait for my next appointment and see what the MW thinks.

Eep! Getting so excited! I'm gonna rock this damn birth and I can't wait to shout it from the roof tops!!

Update

So, it's been a while since I've posted anything so though I'd better update!

I'm now 36w 2d with this bubba. I feel huge, but I love it. I absolutely love being pregnant but at the same time, I think this might be my last. I want more pregnancies, but I just don't think I'm up for more than three kids. Plenty of time to decide that though!

Home birth plans are going well. We had our birth plan meeting the other day and it was good. I'd been trying to find time to sit down with hubby for a few days prior to the meeting, just to make sure we were both on the same page. He just seemed to be avoiding it. When we finally got a chance, the first thing he said  was "you know I'm really nervous about this". And that was pretty much the end of the conversation. I overreacted and shut down thinking all my hard work was going to be thrown out the window. Of course he's nervous though! I'm freaking nervous. The what-ifs do plague me at times. 

At the birth plan meeting, one of the midwives asked me if there was anything specifically worrying me as it may get in the way of labour/birth if I was dwelling on something. Although I am a bit worried about some of the things that might happen, there are no specifics. One day I might worry about rupture, the next about not dilating, the next about tearing and so on. Probably, my biggest concern is that I'm going to go into labour before the birth pool is here at 38 weeks, or after it's been picked up at 42 weeks. I can't imagine home birth without it being a waterbirth. Guess I better have a back up plan just in case!

We've decided that DD who will be 5 in February may be there for the birth. If everything is running smoothly, and she's not too freaked out, or getting in the way, then I'd love to have her there. If she's there, we will let her discover baby's gender. I really like that idea. And although I'm perfectly happy with a boy, I'd love for her to discover she had a little sister!

We've pretty much settled on names, but I'll be keeping them a secret for now.

Mostly I'm just excited. In my heart, all I see is a perfect homebirth. Hubby and me just doing our thing with the midwives there somewhere. I don't see them when I picture the whole thing. But if I think about it too much, I do start to worry about things not going as planned. I worry about afterwards, how I'll cope and how I'll get back on track. The main thing that helped me last time, was knowing I would try again and planning this healing birth. But thinking this may be our last bub, I may not have that to fall back on. And that's the thing that terrifies me the most. 

But for now, I'll stay positive and cling to what I see when I picture the big day. I can't wait!!

A lot has changed

It's obviously been a while subscribe posted anything. We got rid of our computer and posting from my phone is frustrated. But I decided to just do. Things have changed. A lot! I am 13 weeks pregnant! We have a lovely midwife and are planning a home birth. I'm not really scared anymore. I'm a bit anxious that it won't go to plan but I'm refusing to focus on that at the moment.
I've had a few interesting moments so far. At 5 weeks I had some pretty nasty pain and went to get a scan to make sure bubs was not in the wrong place. Too early to see a heart beat or anything really but everything was where it should be.
Last week I had another ultrasound. At 12 weeks, I was measuring 16 in terms of fundal height. The midwife said it is fairly normal for a third pregnancy but wanted to make sure there was only one in there all the same. So off I went, and we saw one little bub with everything measuring perfectly for dates. Just me that's big :)

So that's where we are at right now. Things are moving along, I am feeling huge for 13 weeks and I'm pretty exhausted! But I'm excited for the journey we are on :D

Feel kinda like a fraud

My medical records came the other day. It wasn't nearly as bad as I anticipated. Sometimes I feel like a fraud. Like I'm making the whole birth trauma thing up... pretending it was worse than it really was. But other times, when it hits hard, I feel like I'm drowning.

The thing that made me most angry when I was reading my file was not what I expected. Sure, it annoyed me that it's documented that I asked for pain relief (when in fact it was offered to me, despite it also being documented that I did not want any pain relief offered), and frustrating that in fact, it's recorded that I dilated to 8-9cm, but the worst bit is the straight out inaccuracies in there. For example, my notes say that I have had three pregnancies, two babies. I have only ever been pregnant twice and have two wonderful children to show for it. There is also a page of some random's notes mixed in with mine. Blah... can't be bothered being annoyed anymore!

On a different note, our plans have changed again. I've been offered a job, due to start in January. It would be silly of me to get pregnant without giving myself enough time to be eligible for maternity leave. So, back to waiting a little longer.

I'm also scared that my next pregnancy will be my last. I think we'll probably have more, but I'm not sure. The thought of ever experiencing my last pregnancy makes me so sad. I wish I could just get pregnant over and over again. I love the anticipation, the movements, the belly... everything! So I'm also torn between wanting to be pregnant NOW and wanting to wait so I at least know that one day, I'll be pregnant again. Sigh

And, totally off topic... I need a bigger bed. Our two munchkins sneak in with us sometime in the middle of the night and I love it, but it is squishy. A bigger bed would be nice!!

Just a ramble

It's kind of funny; starting this blog before I even try to conceive again. I feel like I have so much to get out but almost like it's not worth writing about. I think I need to remember that in the end, this is for me to read back over and is a record of how I approach this healing birth, so no matter how trivial my thoughts may seem, if I want to get them out I should.

At the minute I am playing the waiting game. My medical records are on their way. I got a letter on Thursday confirming my photocopying payment had been received and that my file was in the photocopying pile. I have no idea how big that pile is but I think I'll ring on Monday or Tuesday to find out. I am scared. I don't know what my labour with my son looked like from the outside. I'm also scared that reading it all will make everything fresh again. Of course it will! I'm not looking forward to reading how far I got in terms of dilation. For some reason I was sure I got to 4cm. But reading back over my birth story the other day, I'd written 8cm. Makes it so much worse that I was 2 freaking cm away from being fully dilated and I failed. 2cm. Not 6cm like I'd thought. 2cm seems like nothing. 2cm is nothing.

Hubby and I also had a moment of "screw this, let's just have a baby now". I am close to certain that I was past being fertile for this month but I guess we'll wait and see. I doubt I am pregnant but it's still confusing. Part of me hopes so badly I am, and another part doesn't know how to cope with the thought that I might be.