The C-Section That Healed Me

On November 25, my darling girl was brought into the world.  Even though it was not what I hoped for her, her birth healed me.  I didn't even know I was still hurting.

I had never wanted hospital births for my two children.  I think a home birth would have been a wonderful experience, although I will never know if it would have been successful or safe (for me; I want to emphasize that because I do believe in assisted home births).  My husband and family just couldn't get behind a home birth, too worried what might happen, and so I went with midwives who delivered in the hospital.  They were far less intervention focused throughout my pregnancy and birth than I imagine many doctors may have been.  Still, birthing in a hospital is the same.  It's cold, it's medical, and it's not relaxing.  My son's birth did not go easily.  I labored as much as I could at home (more than two days) and 60-some hours later I still couldn't fully dilate.  He just couldn't find his way out and we ended up in a c-section.  I was devastated.  It took a session with my former therapist to move me past the sense of failure I was experiencing.  But, I did.  I moved on, and I became a mother.

So when my daughter came into the world, we were prepared for the worst, not knowing how it might play out.  To this day, I still wonder what would have happened had we had a home birth, and I had not been thrown into the medical environment of the hospital.  But, that said, what ensued changed the failure I felt during my son's birth and it's a story I hope hospitals in the future learn to repeat.

My daughter was born at the same hospital that my son was, Loudoun Hospital's Birthing Inn.  I dilated to 5 cm in the first 5 hours of labor and was admitted to the hospital, and I was so excited.  I was feeling so strong, hypnobirthing, and feeling like this time we were going to succeed; we were going to have a VBAC and all would be wonderful.  And then I stalled.  Once hooked up to the IV (required because of my last caesarian) and interrupted by strangers, I failed to dilate any further in the next five hours.  I knew from before where we were headed.  Because I was under the hospital's deadline, I only had 24 hours and I needed to get restarted.  And I made my first mistake, I let the midwife break my water.  I wish I hadn't.  I wish I'd tried a few more tricks first, though, I don't know what they would have been.
And then it all came crashing down.  If you've ever had your water prematurely broken, you'll know that it intensifies the contractions suddenly instead of gradually.  I completely fell out of my hypnobirthing calm.  I was suddenly in pain and I couldn't get on top of it.  And I knew that if this went on for ten more hours, there would be no way I could push.  I just wanted her to come out some way other than surgically.  So I begged for the epidural.  Not my finest moment, and not my proudest having desperately wanted a completely natural birth.  But I had been here before, and I just couldn't see any other way through.  Everything calmed down after that.  I progressed.  And finally, I made it to ten centimeters!  I got to push!

And I pushed.  And then I pushed.  And then two hours later, I pushed some more.  And everything went wonky again.  I couldn't push her out.  I barely had much epidural left.  I could feel my legs and I could squat.  We tried everything and I couldn't get her to budge.  My contractions began to start crashing down so fast that they actually had to give me medicine to slow them down (I was now a little grateful for the epidural).  I got a fever.  Her heart rate indicated she was stressed.  And then, finally, my midwife looked at me and said the word I had been dreading: "c-section."  Having been through what I had been through with my son, I had promised my husband I wouldn't fight the recommendations if they seemed valid.  So, I didn't fight.  And off to the operating room we went.

I know this story doesn't sound wonderful.  It's everything that home birth and natural birth advocates warn you about.  Hospitals lead to interventions and interventions lead to increased likelihood of caesarian birth.  And it doesn't matter if you have a midwife.  It's just the nature of hospitals.   I don't have any responses for that.  I don't know how a home birth would have gone for us.  I don't know if I was just one of those women who really does have a small pelvis (something the woman who ended up cutting me open speculated).    But, that's not what this post is about.  This post isn't about how I ended up in a caesarian.  I did.  It happened.  And my daughter is safe, so that's all I need to know.  This post is about everything that happened afterwards.

There it was.  The dreaded word "c-section" hanging in the air.  My husband looking at me hoping I wouldn't fight, hoping I wouldn't do anything that could make him lose me, and scared that things could go wrong.    I found myself nodding and relenting.  But then, I grasped one more time.  I said to my midwife, "ok, let's do this, but please, can I hold my baby, in my arms, right away?"

She said "yes."

Granted, I was told they'd have to check the baby first at the little station, make sure she was okay.  I understood.  But my heart was light.  I never held my son after he was born until we got to recovery.  I, the only voice and smell he knew, was not there to comfort him and tell him that I was there, that I would always be there.  My heart still cries when I think about that.

But not this time.  This time was different.  In the three years since my son's birth, The Birthing Inn had become part of the Baby Friendly Hospital Initiative.  Now, instead of giving out samples of formula (or allowing any formula propaganda) and begging to take your child to the nursery, they are supporting breastfeeding 100% (including initiating skin to skin contact after birth) and making it their priority not to separate mother and baby.  And so, when my daughter was born, they took her over to the little table and checked all her vitals, and then they handed her to me.  I was still on the operating table, a sheet between my upper and lower body as they stitched me back up.  I held her close to my chest, felt her skin with my face, and I told her how much I loved her.  And she cried, and when I hushed and soothed her, she calmed.  And then the hospital nurses did something I never imagined.

They didn't take her away.

I held her and calmed her for a long time.  When they finished stitching me up and were ready to move me to recovery, I handed her to my husband who walked her to the neighboring room.  The staff transferred me off the operating table and into a bed and wheeled me to the room.  Ten minutes after she left me, she was in my arms again.  She nursed for the first time.  And, to my amazement, she never left me again.

If my last hospital experience and caesarian left me feeling like a failure, this hospital experience and caesarian made me feel protected.  The hospital performed every procedure in our room.  During my stay with my son, I felt like I was fighting to keep him with me or my husband at all times, but this time I never even had to request it.  She just stayed with us, and they came to her.

According to Baby-Friendly USA, "The Baby-Friendly Hospital Initiative (BFHI) is a global program that was launched by the World Health Organization (WHO) and the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) in 1991 to encourage and recognize hospitals and birthing centers that offer an optimal level of care for infant feeding and mother/baby bonding."  It truly is a wonderful program, and one that I hope more hospitals will join.  For me, it changed everything.  When you have a caesarian, or any medical intervention you did not plan on or intend, it's easy to feel like you failed your child.  When separated from your child, it's easy to feel like you weren't there for him.  I know, because that's exactly how I felt last time.  But, while I had moved on and accepted that a few hours would not erase all that I had done for my son during my pregnancy and all that I have done for him since, I still think back on those moments after his birth with heaviness in my heart and through the lens of tears that marked my first viewing of him.  I did not realize how affected I still was, until they put my little girl into my arms and let me soothe her.

This time, I did not fail.  And I can only hope more hospitals begin to empower more mothers that way.