Steph’s Birth Story
My pregnancy was a dream – I wouldn’t have even noticed that I was pregnant if I didn’t have a big belly and big boobs! Then came the delivery… my son was born THREE days after I was induced via an emergency c-section and it was a NIGHTMARE. I had a planned induction at 38 weeks. I’m Type 1 diabetic so it’s standard policy due to some complications that can occur in the last weeks of pregnancy. My husband and I drove to the hospital on Monday evening and I remember being so nervous I could barely speak. Just nodding my head and giving one-word responses. I had a Foley induction (inserting a rubber bulb, catheter looking thing), it was definitely uncomfortable but only painful for a few seconds, then it was in and taped to the inside of my leg and I was sent home. Very anticlimactic. I had some mild contractions through the night (although at the time I thought they were pretty UNmild) – however nothing major occurred so we stayed home.
We showed up to the hospital the next morning only to wait FOUR hours for a room, and then another EIGHT hours waiting for the doctor to break my water and start oxytocin, all while the Foley still dangled out of me, FUN. After they broke my water, my contractions started coming fast and hard – the birthing ball and having How I Met Your Mother on my iPad were my only saviours. I opted for my epidural about four hours later (I’m no hero and I always planned on having drugs). Not going to lie… it was VERY painful (however this could have been due to sialic pain I was already experiencing). Afterwards was amazing, literally zero pain for the rest of the time.
Over the next TWO days I laid in the hospital bed just waiting to get to 10 cm… I got to maybe 7, and I think the nurses just felt bad for me so gave me an extra cm. The baby’s heartbeat was erratic, so I was taken off the oxytocin twice, one time for 12 hours straight so I was effectively not in labour anymore, just a half frozen, blob woman unable to walk or enjoy the luxurious amenities offered at a downtown Toronto hospital. Suffice to say, this was NOT the labour I had envisioned. I was surprisingly calm (as most of the nurses noted), which I chalk up to the drugs (no pain!), and my unwavering belief that I would have this baby vaginally. I was offered a c-section numerous times by doctors (I swear they were taking bets on when I’d finally give in), but dammit I did not want that surgery! The nurses were amazing and did everything in their power to keep me off the operating table. However, after 48 hours of on and off contractions, little to no progress towards those hallowed 10 cm, and a “come to jesus” conversation with a persistent doctor, I heartbreakingly relented. I was crushed; finally breaking down in the tears I refused to shed over the past few days, as I realized that there was literally nothing else I could do physically or mentally to keep my birth plan on track.
By the time I was whisked away to the operating room, I hadn’t eaten or slept in 72 hours and I had a 102-degree temperature. The surgery went smoothly – to me it felt like 40 minutes of “prep” work (ie. “Can you feel this?” asked over and over again to make sure I was completely frozen), then two minutes of doctors working down there, then POOF! A baby! However, I was very groggy at this point so don’t take my word for it, I don’t even remember the first photo they took of us.
Now is when the REAL fun begins… for whatever reason (lack of food/sleep, the shock to my system from surgery, the fever?), while I was still being sewn up I started shaking uncontrollably (like to the point I actually asked for a neck brace because I was in so much pain from the jerking motion), then I started hyperventilating whilst simultaneously trying to throw up. Then I blacked out. While my husband watched what looked like me having an exorcism, as he held our new bundle of joy. Unsure if he should rush to my side, he also started noticing an increasingly blue tone to the baby’s skin. Turning to one of the nurses to see if this was normal, the woman immediately saw the peril and started resuscitating him. So, for anyone keeping score… that’s one unconscious mom. One unbreathing baby. WTF.
I regained consciousness 20 minutes later while I was being wheeled to a recovery room. WAIT… I have questions, like umm, WHERE’S MY BABY?! My husband assured me that he was fine, they just took him to the resus room for observation (he later admitted to me that he did NOT know where the baby was or if he was actually fine, but didn’t want to unnecessarily frighten me). However, this is a happy story, so 10 minutes later I was reunited with my son who had blessedly returned to a rosy pink.
So what did I learn? Firstly, to be your own advocate. It’s YOUR birth, not anyone else’s, so as long as what you want is not putting your or your baby’s health at risk then speak up! Secondly, its more than likely that your birth will not be exactly how you envisioned it. It sucks, but the end is worth it. So, yes, I have a big ole c-section scar that I didn’t want, but high waisted bikinis are back in fashion, so I’ll survive.