On the sunny side of the womb (Cody’s Birth Story, Part III)

I’ll admit it, when I got to the OR, I was scared. It felt good to walk there (instead of being wheeled in), but my old fears started coming back, so I tried to get back to what was actually happening. The room was different, the circumstances were different. Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car” played on the radio, and my mind jumped back in time to the British camp counselor who first introduced me to Tracy Chapman in the summer before 8th grade.

As I sat on the operating table while the anesthesiologist prepped my back for the spinal block, I watched the nurses prepare the room for surgery. I found the choreography of their work soothing: the methodical unpacking of supplies, the calling out of items on a checklist to make sure everything was in order before moving forward, it all calmed me. They know what they’re doing. Everything will be okay.

Finally we were ready. Josh came in and said, “I’ve had a vision. We’re having a girl and we’re going to name her Violet.” Erm, okayyyyy. . .

Josh stroked my hair and I took deep cleansing breaths. I eavesdropped on the small talk of the doctors that distracted me from the fact that my body was being cut open. I felt some tugging, and then he (thank goodness, because I was NOT down with Violet Henig) was here. While Cody doesn’t get his name from Wild Bill Cody and Jesse James, he came out gun ablaze. “He’s peeing!” Josh cried, and I felt so happy that he was here and he was safe.

Cody was in the OP (Occiput Posterior), or “Sunny Side Up” position, which is a more difficult way of delivery, and could have presented some complications. He also had the cord wrapped around his neck. Twice. Evidently in the 10 days since my last ultrasound (when his head was facing towards my back in the optimal birth position), he’d flipped. My theory is that mystery pain that I had a few weeks ago was Cody changing position. Silly monkey baby! Anyway, if labor had progressed, the cord would have wrapped tighter around his neck as he moved down the birth canal, and let’s just say that I was very grateful that labor stalled and we chose C-Section.

They brought him back and I was happy to see him, and happy to be feeling at all. This was the opposite of the numbness that I felt during Jacob’s delivery, the distraction of medication and shivering and nausea leaving me emotionless. I was awake and sitting up in the recovery room, not passed out, not feverish. I could even call my family, nurse Cody within a half hour of his birth.

So different. So good. No regrets.

I so happy, I not crying (Cody’s Birth Story, Part II)

A month or so ago, Josh picked up Jacob at daycare, and Jacob was very upset and didn’t want to leave. This is unusual, because usually Jacob is saying, “My Daddy! My Daddy!” and can’t wait for pickup, but on this particular day he was having too good of a time. The next day, he was back to normal, and when Josh came to pick him up, he said, “I so happy, I not crying.”

This phrase could have been the tagline of my labor with Cody. Not only did I say it over and over again, I felt so happy through the 16 hours of labor. Tired and in pain, but happy. I felt like an athlete well trained for a marathon, only most of my training was psychological. All the hard work, the blogging, the reliving and letting go of Jacob’s birth had served its purpose; because I felt so great, even through the contractions (does this mean I need to retract my Gisele rant?).

I walked into labor & delivery with my silver birth ball and a smile on my face. I had my birth plan. I rejected meds, even when I thought that the pain from the contractions might tear my body apart. I felt present and completely in my body, and just kept thinking that this is what my body is supposed to do. I felt so damn good.

Onto the nitty gritty.

We got set up in our room and Nurse Mary got out a ph strip to confirm the presence of amniotic fluid, and it turned color immediately. She checked my cervix and I was at 2 cm, 80% effaced.

At 7 am, we got the next nurse, Nurse Diane, and I was about 3 cm dilated.

At 9 am, I was about 4.5 cm dilated, and things started to slow down. Keiki’s heart rate was dropping with each contraction (decels), so they set me up on IV fluids and oxygen to even out his heart rate. This is the part that I hated with Jacob’s birth, because the length of the oxygen tube from the wall to the mask was so short that I was pretty much tethered to the bed. This time, I was okay. I’d still rip it off when I had a contraction, but I tried to sit up in the bed, or sit on the birth ball right next to the bed.

Between 9 and 2, I was checked hourly, and there was little progress. Dr B let me continue because my labor was steady and strong, and Keiki was doing okay, but at 2, we decided that if there was no change by 4 pm, we’d move forward with a C-Section.

By 3 pm, fatigue was setting in, and I wondered how much longer I could go on without rest or pain relief. I knew that the contractions would only get stronger and more frequent, and as it was they were shredding through me, making me feel like my body was cracking open with each one. I wanted to know my fate, so I asked Nurse Diane to check me early. When she noted that there had been no change, I knew that a C-Section was imminent, which Dr. B confirmed via phone.

Once I knew we were going forward with the C-Section, I started crying, a really big, ugly cry. As Josh and Nurse Diane tried to comfort me, I tried to explain that I was okay, but the only thing that came out was blubbering sobs. I was disappointed to say the least, but I knew that I had done everything I could, and that for me, this was the right choice. The contractions were slowing down; my body was slowing down; it was time to let go of the VBAC option. I was okay with my decision, but had a lot of emotion to release, and sometimes crying is the only way to do that. I wanted to say “I’m not sad, I’m just crying.”

The anesthesiologist came in, and it was the same doctor from Jacob’s birth. I re-introduced myself and shared a little bit about my previous experience on the operating table: the uncontrollable shivering, the nausea. He explained that the shivering was pretty standard, but that he’d try to be mindful of it and any nausea and minimize both side affects. He made me feel heard, and that helped with my fears about returning to the operating room.

It was 4:53 pm, I had been in labor for 16 hours, and we were on the home stretch.

"Either my water broke or I peed the bed" (Cody's Birth Story, Part I)

Like so many, Cody’s birth story began in the middle of the night. One week ago, I woke up in a pool of wetness, put on my glasses on and noted the time. It was 12:50 am, and the wild rumpus of labor was just beginning.

When I was in labor with Jacob, my OB broke my bag after my epidural, so I had no reference point for what was happening. I laid there for a few minutes, feeling the liquid, and there was a lot. Finally I roused Josh: “Honey? Either my water broke, or I majorly peed the bed.”

I went into the bathroom and Josh went on the Internet. Based on his research, we were pretty sure that it was amniotic fluid, I felt a little better, because with liquid coursing down my legs, the only other option that I had lost all bladder control.

Anyhoo.

We called Dr B’s answering service and set about getting ready to go to the hospital, finishing up packing, calling my neighbor to come be with Jacob, changing the sheets, writing down last minute directions for Jacob. I was pretty excited because Keiki was coming in the next 24 hours. We tried to count contractions on line, but kept monkey braining. My best guess is that I was about 7 min apart, but we wanted to get to the hospital to make sure it was amniotic fluid, and because of the possibility of an emergency C-section.

Finally we got in the car and were on our way. It was 3:30 am, February 8, and Keiki was coming. Go Keiki, go!

Someone is looking to get slapped

Dear Gisele,

Please stop talking. Just close your mouth before you alienate every red blooded American woman, and maybe even some empathetic and evolved fathers.

I mean, first it started out small, little things like the fact that you had a water birth in the bathtub of the home that you share with husband Tom Brady. No big whoop, right?

And then you start running your mouth. About how you never wore maternity clothes, just made some small changes in the belly of your current clothes. About how you have no nanny and looooooove being awake every 2 hours.

But the cherry on this sundae? That you didn’t feel pain during labor?!

Woman, do you see what you are doing? Not only are you making thousands, if not millions, of mothers hate you, you are breeding a new generation of mothers to hate you. Presumably your fan base is mostly young and male, who now stupidly think that their future wives and baby mommas should not only stay thin during pregnancy, but what are they whining about these pesky contractions?

For the love of all things holy, blame it on post-partum mania and shut it!

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

Spam

Dear California Democratic Party,

I don’t know how you got my personal e-mail, which I never give out (that’s what yahoo accounts are for), but this needs to stop. If I get ONE more e-mail from an assembly person or other California legislator, I swear to Jehosepha that I will vote Republican whenever possible.

Please do not take this as an empty threat. When my Granny was in labor with my father, Grandad made her vote in the Republican Primary and as a result, my father was born in an elevator. Granny voted Democrat for the rest of her life.

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

Postpartum Story (Jacob)

Warning for all you squeamish folk out there: there will be blood. .

When Jacob was about 2 weeks old, I woke up with unexplained pain in my left hip and groin to the point that I couldn’t walk without help. After two days of on and off pain, it got so bad that I ended up in the ER at 4 in the morning and called my Mom in NY to see if she could come out and help with Jacob because I couldn’t take care of him.

Over the next 3 weeks my mom (props to Jojo!) did most of the day to day caretaking of Jacob while I tried to rest and visited the chiropractor and tried to figure out the mystery of this random pain, which kept me up most nights while Jacob slept. During this time I bought not one, but TWO Magic Bullets (Buy One Get One Free if you act NOW!) and became addicted to the Food Network and Rachael Ray. When Jacob was almost six weeks, I found an orthopedist who ordered an MRI which would later show a bulging disc. The good news was that I was starting to feel better, and my mom went home.

I started passing large clots the day that my mom left, literally passing the first one in the half hour before she left for the airport. Since the postpartum bleeding had slowed down and was now increasing, I was scared and called my OB. The office wasn’t too concerned, so I felt kind of foolish. As the evening wore on, I continued to pass golf ball sized clots, which steadily increased in size. Finally, we drove to ER at about 2 am, the third such trip in six weeks.

As soon as I stepped out of the car in the ER parking lot (what a polite uterus I have--NOT ON THE JETTA!!), I felt a whoosh of blood pour down my legs, like someone had pulled a string on a bucket in my uterus. Not one to give up appearances, my first thought was, good thing I’m wearing black pants. I walked into the ER, my slippers leaving Rorschachs on the cream colored linoleum and had a flash of guilt over the mess I was making. After I got on the examining table, I continued to pass more clots and it felt like I was part of a horror movie. I can only imagine how Josh felt, sitting next to our sleeping 6-week old while witnessing clot after clot coming out of his wife’s body.

The ultrasound technician did a scan and found nothing, so they sent me home and told me to see my OB. Since my OB was on vacation, I saw Dr. G, who was the same backup when my Dr was on vacation after my C-Section the next day. When I got to her office at 11 am the next morning, she saw a huge clot blocking my cervix, and sent me back to the hospital next door for surgery to remove it.

I went into surgery at about 1:30 pm, where they did a D&C (dilation & curettage), which is where they dilate your cervix and scrape your uterus clean. I was already dilated about 3-4 cm (much faster than with Jacob!), my body had gone back into labor because there was something still there.

When they removed the clot, 800 ccs of blood came out, a little under 2 pints, which I’m told is about 25% of my blood volume, a factoid I was very glad not to know at the time. They ultimately found that a piece of placenta had been left behind after my C-Section, and that was what had been causing so much havoc on my body.

 Dr. G was very apologetic and Monday Morning Quarterbacking her choice to not give me a postpartum scan when I had the uterine infection. I have to say I have no ill will towards either doctor that treated me. They made the best choices that they could, I received good care, and a heartfelt apology goes a long way.

I hated being back in the hospital. I hadn't been apart from Jacob, and after Josh and he left for the night, I cried myself to sleep. I was so afraid and alone, but in shock at what had just happened. That night was probably the lowest point for me, watching my family leave. Now that I was on the mend and feeling safe, my mind finally let me image their life without me.

After that night in the hospital, things improved dramatically. Luckily I didn't need a transfusion and got to go home Saturday morning. That Saturday and Sunday I was tired as my body rebuilt its iron stores, but most of my physical ailments were gone (except for the bulging disc, but even that felt better), and the nice part is that I was so happy to be physically able to take care of my son that I didn’t care about being up in the middle of the night. If I was up, it was because of him, not me, and that was an unexpected joy. I also stopped thinking about what happened to me and put it away in a box, one that I am now trying to slowly unwrap as I gear up for Keiki.

The phrase that goes in and out of my head is this: I could have died. Every time this phrase comes up, it wraps around me like a boa constrictor until I push it down and back into the box. Don’t be silly. You’re such a drama queen. People have been through worse. Whether or not these things are valid, the fact is that when I walked into the ER that last time with blood streaming down my legs, it’s very likely that I was a few bad decisions away from death, and facing that truth is what drives my current fear and indecision regarding Keiki’s birth.

I'm sharing this to try and loosen the power that this has over me. What happened to me was scary and potentially life-threatening, but I made it. I made it to my Dr.’s office before passing that large clot and losing all that blood at home, in my sleep or someplace else where I couldn’t have gotten immediate help. I recovered and was able to care for my son. I am able to carry another healthy baby, and I am willing to work through all this shit, no matter how scary it is. I am so grateful that I am here with my lovely family about to be expanded, which makes it feel all the more selfish to keep up this loop in my head. And yet, I feel that if I can express it, however crazy or self-indulgent that feels, I can let go of it. I can stop thinking about how I could have died, and remember that I didn’t.

Birth Story, Part II (Men read at your own risk. . .)

As written about here, I went into labor five days after Jacob’s due date, on the afternoon of Monday, October 1, 2007. I labored through the night at home, and from what I can remember, there was a fair amount of timing, showering and pooping (sorry guys, but isn’t it better to do it in the toilet than on the birthing table?) At around 5 am, after 12-13 hours, we headed to the hospital.

As soon as we got to the hospital and I was in the bed, I was hooked up to the fetal monitor and given IV pain medication and Pitocin. I was so exhausted at this point that I didn’t even think about whether or not I wanted pain relief or the ability to walk around. I dozed in and out, and continued to contract without much progress. At about noon, my OB came in and physically made my water break (also called “breaking the bag”). I think that I was around 4 cm dilated (you need to get up to 10) and had received an epidural, so I felt nothing. There was meconium (fetus poo) in my waters, which wasn’t such a huge deal, but we wanted things to move forward, that’s for sure. Then Jacob’s heart started dropping on every contraction, so they gave me medicine to stop the contractions, and then to start them up again.

On and on we went through the afternoon, and during some of that time I needed to wear an oxygen mask, which I hated. I felt tied to the bed, scared, and somewhat claustrophobic with the mask, but too foggy to even think about what was happening.

At around 5:30 pm, my OB came back and gave me two options. She would let me labor until about 11pm, during which they would try to use a vacuum extractor to get Jacob out, and if that didn’t work I’d have to have a C-Section, or we could move forward with C-Section now. In thinking through what my body and my baby had been through, his heart going up and down all day, I couldn’t bear putting him through more of the same, and so we chose C-Section. At the time, I felt good about the decision, thinking that while it would be harder for me, it would hopefully be easier for Jacob, and ensure a safe delivery.

We rolled into the operating room at about 6pm, and I was laid out with my arms in the crucifix position as the anesthesiologist got to work. I remember my doctor chatting with the other surgeon about her upcoming high school reunion, her telling me that my abs looked great, and that “they won’t look as good the next time around!” and I was comforted by the chitchat which made me feel like what was happening was not such a huge deal.

I remember starting to shiver, and the feeling that I was going to throw up, and the fear that I would vomit on my face or into my mouth because I couldn’t sit up. Josh was on my left, and when Jacob came out, he was dazed at first, until the anesthesiologist nudged him into action: “Go on, take some pictures!” Then Josh was dancing (if not physically, his voice was) and saying how much Jacob looked like his dad. He brought him back to me so I could see him, and as I’ve written here before, I felt nothing. I still couldn’t stop shivering, and what I didn’t know at the time was that my body was beginning to fight a uterine infection that was only the beginning of things to come.

They brought me into recovery and I passed out as my fever spiked. I was in and out for about an hour, and then I was awake enough to sit up and have Jacob come in and try to nurse, without much luck. We rolled back to the room and I think that our family was still there: my mom, Josh’s dad and stepmom, Josh’s brother.

My fever spiked twice more. I remember one of the labor and delivery nurses telling me that one of the spikes (104 point something) was the highest temperature she’d taken in her 30 year career, and I had a little sick pride over that. I remember that the on-call OB decided to only do a uterine scan if I spiked a third time, which I didn’t, and six weeks later, we’d both wish that she had ordered the scan. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that.

I remember the removal of the catheter, and subsequent pain and re-insertion after my bladder got so full and I couldn’t physically pee. I remember the kindness of the labor and delivery nurses, the best nurses of all. One braided my stinky hair and got the knots out when I couldn’t shower for two days. She was the same one who got as giddy as a schoolgirl when I finally passed gas, which meant that I could eat food, and ran to get me a menu so I wouldn’t have to wait until dinner time after nearly three days of watered down apple-cranberry juice and ice chips. I can’t say enough about labor and delivery nurses, who certainly don’t chose this specialty for the pay. Overall, Josh, Jacob and I got a lot of tender loving care during our stay.

We stayed 5 days in the hospital so I could recover, and went home on Saturday morning, and while the real-world journey of parenthood began, the labor and delivery part was not yet over.

After the C-Section, I felt like I had failed at something so fundamentally female, the experience of childbirth, and I second guessed all of my choices. What if I had created a more specific birth plan? What if I had held out when they started hooking me up to machines and medicines from the moment I walked into the hospital? What if I had waited until the last possible moment, and given the vacuum extractor a shot?

I find it easier to question myself than to give myself credit for making a choice that may have saved both me and Jacob from further trauma. I find it easier to listen to the voices that speak of interventions and criticize C-sections and hospital births instead of trying to accept that my birth story is my own, and I could have had a much worse outcome than I did. As it stands, I had a healthy baby who was a good eater, a good sleeper, with a calm and mellow personality.

I think that the scariest part of a C-section is my fear of a repeat experience. And while everything I’ve learned has taught me that an operation without labor can be easier to deal with, I’m still scared. I’m sharing this to try to let go of that fear, because I want to make the best choice for me and Keiki, and I don’t want it to be a choice that comes out of fear. As I write, I’m learning that it may not be the C-section itself that is scary. To use a California metaphor, if my C-Section was an earthquake, it set in motion a series of more dangerous aftershocks, and for me, everything that happened in the weeks after Jacob was born emotionally leads me back to the C-Section and clouds my ability to make a choice now. And all that is another story. Stay tuned.

Homework

On Monday, I had my 28 week check up. I’ll go every two weeks until 36 weeks, at which point I’ll go weekly for a “measure and listen,” which is usually a 5 min check to hear Keiki’s heartbeat and measure my belly, check weight and blood pressure. These appointments have been quick since everything is on track, but this week I had some homework to do as I try to make a decision about Keiki’s delivery.

On my last visit, I told my OB that I had been feeling down lately, and today, I started crying as I tried to express ambivalence over choosing VBAC or scheduled C-section. And here's why I like my OB and am glad that she will be delivering Keiki as well. She handed me a box of tissues and guided me through my written questions without a glance at her watch or telling me what I should do.

There are lots of pros and cons, and I'll be writing about them in the coming months, but basically, it’s still wait and see. To have a VBAC, a certain number of stars need to align, but the main ones are there, like the fact that both my hospital and OB perform VBACs.

Then come the "Ifs." If I have a smaller baby that’s low and I’m dilating well. If I don’t go past my due date. If I don't develop high blood pressure. These are a lot of ifs, but I find it all somewhat calming. It’s like I can create a matrix (oh how my chaotic Monkey Brain loves her a good matrix!) for all this, a structure to help me make the best decision, both for right now, and when Keiki’s ready to come out. It’s empowering.

I think back at the Me who was in labor with Jacob, and I can see now how much anxiety was there, and I just shut down in some ways. Sometimes I wish that I could pick her up, like when Jacob is having a meltdown, and rock her and make her feel safe. This level of awareness makes me feel closer to accepting the choices that I made, closer to letting go of wanting the past to be any different.

Sometimes I question all this focus on the labor/delivery choice. Presumably, I’m only going to have one more child, so why all the fuss, all this work? But I know that Jacob’s birth brought up aspects of me with which I struggle, that will continue to show up in other ways and other parts of my life until I am willing to deal with them. Why now? Why not?

27 Weeks: The debate goes on

As I begin the last week of my second trimester (Keiki the Cauliflower!), I'm thinking more and more about the whole scheduled C-section vs. Vaginal Birth After Cesaerean (VBAC) debate that rages on in my mind.

At this time, there is no medical or logistical reason why I can't have a VBAC. This may change if I have another big head baby at 8 months, my Obstetrician (OB) may dictate a C-section, but for now, it's my decision. This is hard for me, because I kind of want someone else to tell me what to do.

Whatever I decide, I have some work to do in accepting the circumstances of Jacob's birth. While it might have been helpful for me to deal with this BEFORE GETTING PREGNANT AGAIN, I tend to work well under a deadline, and so this is just the way it's going to be.

I remember the feeling of relief when Jacob came out safely. When my OB said, "Oh yeah, there was no way that he was coming out any other way," I felt like we made the right decision to go forward with the C-Section instead of waiting a few more hours, putting him in more potential danger in an effort to keep to the birth plan (no c-sections unless it's an emergency).

I also remember feeling scared and alone, flat on my back, body still open, nauseated from the anesthesia. I couldn't stop shaking, and while I wanted to pull my arms in close, I wasn't allowed to remove them from the crucifix position that I was in. The fever began almost immediately, and I passed in and out of consciousness in the recovery room while the nurses tried to lower my temperature. I felt woozy and out of it, from no sleep, from 25 hours of labor, from 12 hours of medical interventions.

In the days and weeks that followed, I Monday Morning Quarterbacked myself to death, questioning every choice that I had made throughout my labor, and feeling like the C-section was my fault and representative of some sort of personal defect. And then I stopped thinking about it and life painted over the trauma of those couple of months. As the weeks roll by, I'm determined to chip away that paint and let out whatever feelings may come so that I can let go of the fears and anxiety that I have about childbirth, and truly move forward.

At the end of the day, I don't really have a strong preference to do VBAC or C-section. Right now, the only Birth Plan that's been written for Keiki is to get that little cauliflower out in the safest way possible (for both of us). I think that the next item on the list is to figure out what is going to help me make a decision that feels good for me. Part of that is making peace with September (failed induction)- November (removal of retained placenta) 2007.

But it's not all empty tissue boxes and sadness. When I dress Jacob, it is a constant wrestling match between Jacob's head and any top that doesn't have snaps at the neck. Many times, I curse the toddler t-shirt makers who make cute clothes that squeeze my little pumpkin head going on, and pull his face back like he's had a freaky face-lift when coming off. Today, I thought to myself, How could I have ever expected that head to make it through my hoo hoo? Let the healing begin.

This One's a Doozy

In case you haven't noticed, I am completely in love with my son. Head over heels in love with him. I love to cuddle and rock him, kiss his neck to make him laugh, receive sloppy kisses from him, I love it all.

I'll tell you a secret, though. For the first six weeks of his life, I was not in love. To be fair, my body was fighting a host of issues that made it hard to focus on loving my son, but that's another story.

When he first came out, I thought he looked weird. Again, to be fair, I was shaking uncontrollably from the anesthesia, my body was still open, and starting to create a post-surgical uterine infection, but still. I thought he looked slightly Asian, like he was from Mongolia, which I found confusing, since neither I nor Josh have any Asian blood that we know of. Emotionally, I felt nothing. I felt no rush of love that is shown in movies, or that I'm sure many new moms have. I felt numb, and kept feeling like I should be excited or something. I felt defective, like I missed out on the whole unconditional love thing.

I didn't fall in love with Jacob until he was about six weeks. After the uterine infection that gave me a fever so high that the on-duty nurse said it was the highest reading she'd had in 32 years of being a nurse. After the pulled groin, the bulging disc, the hemorraghing that resulted in a D&C and removal of retained placenta from my uterus. After my body started to heal and I was pretty certain that I wasn't going to die any time soon, my heart opened wide open and let Jacob in.

This is one of the things that THEY don't talk about, and I really wish that THEY would. THEY say things like, "you better get that baby on your chest as soon as it's born so you have that 1 hour of bonding," without stating that you can bond with your child in many ways, and if you are shaking and lying cut open on a table, you may not be able to put your child on your chest, and THAT IS OKAY.

Other things that I wish THEY would talk about:
1. When you get pregnant, it is more than likely that your first ultrasound will be through a vaginal probe (please see Knocked Up! STAT if this is a shock), which looks like a large, plastic penis (complete with a condom!) that may seem scary when you are expecting the cute little belly wand that they show on TV.
2. Yes, breast milk is best, but that doesn't mean that formula is harmful to your baby
3. If at first you do not bond, there are many ways to do so with your child. Jacob and I got a lot of "skin-to-skin" that first year by bathing together.
4. You will probably poop yourself when you give birth. This one is actually from my sister, who gave me a lot of enlightening information when my neice was born. Since I was 20 at the time, I pretty much blocked out all the information except for the poop.
5. Sometimes, inductions don't work.

I believe that all the advice that we received came from a place of love and wanting to help, but sometimes it feels like parenting advice (especially surrounding labor, delivery and the first year of care) is so concrete, so passionately given, that there is not much room for the other side of things. What if you want to breastfeed, but your body suppresses the hormone to create it, or you are in so much pain that you can barely hold your child on your chest? Why do I trip over the term "C-section," debating over whether or not I add a qualifier. Emergency? Unplanned? As if it's only okay to have a C-Section if you almost die?

These are some of the questions with which I still struggle. Anticipation of this next birth reminds me of the last one, and I'm realizing that I'm not over the last one yet. I know that there are plenty of women out there who don't struggle over their birth stories and I hope to join their ranks. Still, I don't think I'm alone out here. And so I'm going to share my stories and hope that my voice can be part of the THEY.

Birth Story, Part I

Every mom has her birth story. Even those moms who haven’t experienced childbirth, they have their own form of a birth story.

Here is mine.

WARNING: The following includes some personal and potentially graphic information, especially for any menfolk out there. Okay, you’ve been warned.

Today is Jacob’s birthday! I can’t believe our little nugget is a walking, talking little person. Today is also Gandhi’s birthday, which is why I think that Jacob is so mellow, and it may also be why he fought so hard to be born on October 2.

Oh how we tried to get him out of the hot tub! At 36 weeks, his head was measuring at 39 weeks and his weight was 7 lbs, 4 oz. Yikes! Everyone kept telling us we were going to get this big old baby that would never make it to 40 weeks. We tried to induce a week before Jacob’s birth, and it failed. This was somewhat horrifying because we didn’t realize that an induction may not work. We figured we’d come out with a baby no matter what, right? WRONG.

We checked in on a Tuesday night, and they gave me Cervidil, a vaginal suppository (Seriously, you have been warned) which is a cervical ripening agent, which means that it should have gotten my cervix to open up and get ready to make room for my hopefully not too big kid.

About three hours into the 12 hours of Cervidil, I woke up with the WORST PAIN OF MY LIFE. Worse than labor, and worse than what followed Jacob’s birth (That would be the future post entitled Postpartum Part I). In the days and weeks that followed, I got very familiar with the 1-10 pain scale, and I can say unequivocally that this was a perfect 10. It felt like someone was stabbing me repeatedly in the ONE place that a woman does not want to be stabbed. Thankfully they took it out and the pain subsided. The downside was that we just had Pitocin (another drug used to speed things along) to induce labor and that wasn’t enough.

Night two, we tried again, and once again, I woke up with the WPOML. Thankfully we had a fabulous nurse (I could write pages about the awesomeness of labor and delivery nurses and I probably will, but that is also another post) who asked if I had bad period cramps, and I said, “You mean like take massive drugs for three days bad? Why yes, yes I do.” Evidently that was a sign of hypersensitivity to prostaglandin, the MAIN ingredient in Cervidil.

Day 2 was a Thursday, and with a still un-ripe cervix by the end of the day, we had a choice: C-Section or go home. As much as we wanted this kid, I didn’t want a C-Section (Hear that? It’s God laughing as I tried to make a plan for this birth), so we went home. Tired and emotionally spent, I finally let my friends that I was still alive, and sobbed on the phone to my mom-friend, L.

Back at home, we decided to wait and not push things. So we waited, and my due date came and went. Monkey Brain struck the weekend after Jacob was due, and I tried to induce labor using castor oil. I ended up with bad breath and 12 hours of false labor.

I went into real labor the evening of October 1, and 25 hours and one C-Section later (that’s Birth Story Part II), Jacob came into this world at 9 lbs, 14 oz. As much as I tried to figure out a plan, it seems that he had his own.

Jacob’s birthday reminds me of what’s coming in February, and the big question is to VBAC (Vaginal Birth after Cesarean) or not to VBAC. What I have learned is that I’m not going to decide right now. I remember the last time I tried to pick my child’s birthday.