Tag: c-section

E’s Unconventional Conventional Birth

AC1 Comment

E will be 2 years old in less than a month. In honor of that, here are some details about his birth.
I always thought it would be so cool to have the whole, water-breaking going into labor, rushing to the hospital with my pre-packed bag business, but both my kids were scheduled. E was a planned c-section. I woke up that morning feeling like I was going to throw up from nerves. Two years ago, I had this painful surgery, painful recovery, and then I have to do the exact same thing again. It was terrifying driving to the hospital knowing that in t-minus 3 hours I was going to be sliced open and have my baby cut out of me.
They checked me in and told me they were running behind. I was, honestly, a little relieved about that. I felt like I needed just a little bit more mental prep time. (MP is what my family calls it. Before you go to work, you have to have an hour of MP.) My family was there with me. Like parents, siblings, daughter. They were supposed to get there when I was in surgery, but because the hospital was running behind and my family was being super impatient, they came and waited with me in the pre-op room. The nurse got me ready, and I lied about my weight. Just by a few pounds. Who doesn’t? You feel at your worst, and then they ask you how much you weigh. They should just give you a paper to write it down on. Somehow saying it out loud is so much worse.
Finally my nurse came in and said it was time to go to the operating room. I asked her where the stretcher was, and she said we would just walk to the OR, and she could hold my IV bag. It’s terrifying enough to get cut open, but at least wheel me in! Walking myself into the OR was like the walk of death. The frustrating part is that the husband can’t come in until after you are all ready to go. So, I walk in the freezing OR and they are all just talking, like this is so normal and not terrifying. I know I have used terrifying a lot in this, but that is what it was, terrifying. They told me to hop up onto the table. “Hop up.” I felt like I was a little kid at a doctors appointment. “Just hop on up and we’ll stick this giant needle in your spine.”
They got that over with, and gave me some information about what was going to happen. Who the baby’s nurse would be, etc. They also asked me if it were okay if they had a high schooler in on it. She was thinking about being a doctor. “The more the merrier,” I said. They started giving me the medicine in the spinal block and warned me that a small percentage of women have blood pressure drops with it, and if I am one of those women, they would just give me a drug to counteract it. “I guarantee you I am one of those women,” I told them. On a good day my blood pressure is 90/60. I had a doctor tell me, “You’ll live forever with blood pressure like that, but on a side note, do you pass out a lot?” The answer is yes. I blackout a lot. That is a tangent though. Back to the story. They were about to start cutting and they still hadn’t sent for Eric. I asked them if he could come and join, and they said, “Oh yeah, the husband. Someone go get him.” He finally was there and they started. My blood pressure did drop, and they did give me the drug. About 6 times. I would start to fall asleep and they would get it back up. They got Baby E out quickly, and he started to cry. After the fear surrounding the Cholestasis*, it was joy hearing my little baby cry.  It felt surreal to finally see this baby, that we spent the last month protecting. Doing ultrasounds, NST’s, watching him.

Side note: Did you know they take out some of your organs sometimes during a c-section? I had heard tales, but didn’t think there was truth to them. I started to get shoulder pain and the doctor ever so casually told me it was extra air intake due to a certain organ being on my stomach. Eric was engrossed in all of this. He had asked me previously, if this time could he not stay by my head and maybe get closer to the action. He just felt like last time he didn’t get as good of a look as he would have liked. I told him no, obviously, that his number one duty was to stay with me and keep me from being terrified.
After they whisked the Baby E away and brought him to my waiting family, they started to stitch me up. They asked me how I was doing, I told them bored. I just wanted to get out of there and go hold my baby. It takes like 3 minutes to get the baby out and then you have to sit there for 20 minutes while they stitch you up. They finished, and transferred me to the stretcher. The doctor came over and shook my hand, and said, “Congratulations” and walked out of the OR to her next waiting c-section. I’d had surgery before I had my babies, but I can’t say until that moment, that I had ever had the good fortune of a doctor shaking my hand afterward right there in the OR.
The hospital stay was good. The nurses were nice, even the one who hid the formula in a cabinet because she did not approve of my supplementing with formula. I’ve had good experiences with my c-sections. Definitely not something, I’d choose, but my babies were healthy and so was I through it all.

 

*http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/cholestasis-of-pregnancy/basics/definition/con-20032985

Measuring up.

AC3 Comments

Motherhood is tiring. I’m not referring to the actual mothering part of motherhood. I am referring to the judgment. The rules.

C-Section vs. Natural

Formula vs. Breast

Organic vs. Not

Wooden Toys vs. Plastic Toys

Co-Sleeping vs. Crib

Sleep training in general.

The list is infinite.

What inspired me to start this blog was that I always felt that I was on the wrong side of parenting. I was never parenting the “correct” way. It took me awhile to realize that there is no one correct way. The correct way is what works best for you. I’m of the belief of, why try to be a second rate imitation of someone else when I can be first rate of myself?

A was a c-section baby. Her birth was traumatic. I was in labor for 26 hours. I was bleeding. A lot. My baby was in distress. It was time to intervene. They wheeled me away to the operating room. “It won’t hurt.” they told me. “You will only feel pressure.” They were wrong. I felt pain. I felt cutting. They got A out in about 3 minutes. Then because of the pain, they knocked me completely out while they stitched me up. I don’t remember very much about my baby being born. Am I sad about that? Yes. I wish I remembered more. More important though, my baby and I were healthy. I am much happier about that.

A few months after my baby was born, I was telling someone about my c-section. They stopped me and said “Wait…was it really necessary? Did you have to have it?”

“No.” I thought, “I just wanted to get cut open for fun.” Were they crazy? Of course I had to have it.

I was telling somebody else another time. My story was met with a deep sigh. “Oh man….why do doctors push so much for c-sections? I am POSITIVE you would have had your baby naturally if you had just waited. The body knows what it’s doing.” “Well, actually…” I interjected. They continued, “ They induced you too soon.”  “I was already over a week late.” I told them. Another smug look. “Well, how do you know that was your actual due date?” I was getting frustrated with the conversation. “It was necessary, and it saved mine AND my baby’s life!”

I was expecting empathy from people, but was instead getting shamed. As if I didn’t try hard enough.

“You’ll try for a natural one though next time, right?” people always added.

I actually wasn’t sure if I wanted to go through that traumatizing process again, and I definitely didn’t see where it was anyones business if I did or didn’t.

I learned to keep my mouth shut. I would see people’s Facebook posts bragging about how they had their baby naturally. How was I less of a woman? Just because my baby was cut out of my stomach? “Do you ever wonder what it’s like to actually give birth?” people would ask. “Well. I’m pretty sure what I did was childbirth.”

It was heroic to have a baby, but only if you did it the “right way.” Apparently, 26 hours of labor, almost dying, and then having a major surgery, wasn’t heroic enough.

A was also formula fed. I expected feedback on this one. It is very important to a lot of people. It was very important to me as well. A was breast fed for the first little while. For many reasons, I was not able to continue it.

There are articles. Articles informing formula feeders of the damage that they are doing to their kids with their selfish choice. Lowering their IQ’s, increasing their risk of cancer, robbing them of the amazing bond that can only be formed with your child through breast feeding.

I believe breast milk is the first choice. I believe that the mother’s antibodies are passed through the milk and do help the baby’s health. I believe that there is a bond that is formed through breastfeeding.

However, I also believe that breastfeeding does not always work. I believe that we have a great alternative. I believe that there is a bond that comes from feeding your baby with a bottle. I’ve felt it.

As hard as it was to get up with my babies in the night, I loved sitting there feeding them. Watching their faces. Watching them drink and fall asleep in my arms again. As hard as nights are, I feel like that is how I built my bond with A.

I don’t like that is it is hard for women who breastfeed. I don’t like that people feel like they have to hide it. I also don’t like that it is hard for women who formula feed. We are arguing over the best way to love our babies. It’s so absurd.

I wish both methods of feeding were more supported, and that we didn’t argue so much about what is best for our babies. No situation is alike and what is best for one, is not necessarily best for another.

I hated feeling guilty checking that box on the well-child check up forms that said my baby was formula fed. I hated apologizing to everyone about why I was formula feeding my child. I hated that every time A got sick, people would point out, “well, she is formula fed.”

What I have learned from being the “atypical” mother at times, is just how important it is to support others and not to judge. I definitely judged. In my frustration with feeling judged, I judged back. What makes us all so wonderful is how different we are. The best piece of mothering advice I received was this: I was asking for advice on potty training A. I told her that this book told me to do it this way, but I just didn’t know how I was going to make that work with my current situation. She said, “ Don’t do it. The best method is what works for you. If taking a longer time to potty train works for you, then do it. If a shorter method works for you, then do it. That is the best method.”