Damage Control

So it's been a while -- almost 4 weeks to be exact -- since I've posted last. Life is marching along swimmingly in terms of adjusting to life with a new baby. Please note that I use the term "swimmingly" very loosely... and in some instances, quite literally. (I shall explain later.)

I don't know how this could possibly be, but I had completely forgotten what happens to my household when we have a new baby. We immediately go from offense to defense. From proactive to reactive. From damage prevention to damage control.

Indeed, every time I sit down to nurse C, the other kids know it's a free-for-all for, oh, at least a good 10 minutes. The following is just a sampling of things that can be accomplished by small children in 10 minutes or less:

1. an entire FULL roll of toilet paper can be unwound and piled up on the bathroom floor.

2. two kitchen pans can be filled with water from the bathroom faucet, carried out to the kitchen table -- while only losing half of said water -- to be used for baptizing 2 small plastic dogs.

3. four bath towels, 4 flashlights and 57 stuffed animals can be brought out to the backyard to be used for "camping".

4. a 2-year old can completely cover his face, hands and arms with liquid soap under the pretense that it is lotion.

Of course these things make it sound like I have entirely no control over my children. But aha! You have not heard about how I deftly choreographed them all to help with chores today while I nursed! I had sweepers, dusters, laundry-folders and even a mopper.

And THIS is where the "swimmingly" part comes in. When I finally finished nursing C and was able to check on my little worker-bees, I nearly needed a life preserver to wade through the puddles in my kitchen. Apparently, the mop is a little difficult for a 4 year old to squeeze excess water out of. Eh. No matter. Floors are clean.

So during these first few weeks of round-the-clock nursing, I am perfecting the art of damage control. A certain amount of shenanigans goes on while I nurse, and I know full well I will have a mess to clean up later.  But except for bleeding and bodily fluids which require my immediate attention, everything else can be dealt with in approximately 10 minutes.

Caleb's Birth Story -- It's a long post!

In order to fully appreciate C’s birth story, I feel like it’s important that I put it in context: I have never before had a vaginal birth. I had labored with my first two, and after hard labors that were made even more difficult with medical interventions, both ended in c-section. My next two babies were born via "elective" repeat cesarean.

When we learned that I was pregnant with C, I immediately knew that I was going to look into attempting a VBAC again. (Vaginal Birth After Cesarean). Having a 5th c-section carried risks that I was not comfortable with, and though I knew it would be a struggle to find someone willing to attend me, I knew I had to try.

We tried various doctors, we tried various birthing centers, only to be repeatedly turned down. The risks were “too high” they said. We did a lot of research during those months: reading studies, analyzing data, making sure we were still making the safest choice possible for the baby and me. (One of the resources I found most helpful in analyzing the data can be found here.)
And then we found midwives who confirmed what R and I had learned: a VBAC after 4 c-sections was not necessarily MORE risky than a 5th repeat c-section, it just came with a different set of risks. Our VBAC plan was a ‘go’ with only one small detail: we would be giving birth at home.

I have to say that I was really OK with that. After reading VBAC studies and looking at my own medical records from the previous deliveries, I really felt that my only REAL chance of having a successful VBAC was away from all the medical “interventions”. Ideally, medical interventions would only be used on women and babies who require them; ironically in my case, it was the "routine" use of such things that got me to where I was facing a 5th c-section and I knew that the continued use of these routine interventions would only get me another c-section - whether my baby and I needed one or not. No, I did not want to be induced: depending on the type of induction, there was a possibility that it would put increased stress on my scarred uterus. (Not to mention that statistics show that induction greatly raises your risk of having a c-section.) No, I did not want pain medication: that would make it impossible for me to alert my birthing team if anything felt “off”. Etc., etc. The only way I was going to do this, was if I was left to do it on my own.

And so we did.

Contractions started on Sunday night. Pretty mild in hindsight, but that night, they were strong enough to wake me from sleep every 30 minutes. When I woke up Monday morning, I told R to go to work and that I would keep him posted. As I got myself and the kids ready in the morning, they increased to about every 10 minutes apart, but were easy to talk through so I continued to go to work and see what the day brought.

By 2:00 Monday afternoon, some of the contractions were getting pretty uncomfortable to the point where I preferred not to talk through them and were coming about every 7 minutes. Shortly after that, I told my co-workers I was going to go home and have a baby! I had R pick up the kids from the sitters and we all hung out at home hoping to have a new baby by morning. I put a lasagna together so we would have a meal ready to eat after the birth and the kids and R went swimming. After supper we had my mom pick the kids up and R’s sister, I, came over ready to help with the birth. At this point, the contractions were about 5 minutes apart, but weren’t really increasing in intensity or pattern. At around 11:00 Monday night, we decided to all lay down and try and get some sleep and the contractions spaced back out to around every 30 minutes throughout the night.

By Tuesday morning, I was so tired from the two previous sleepless nights and was feeling really discouraged. My contractions picked back up to about every 10 minutes and were getting increasingly difficult for me to deal with but I wasn’t sure if that was because they were indeed getting stronger, or I was just getting less able to handle them because I was so tired. One of the midwives came over around 9:30 to listen to baby’s heartbeat and provide some much needed encouragement. She said that this could last for even a few days and that it was perfectly normal, baby sounded great, my body was doing what it needed to do, and I should take care of myself: rest, eat healthy food and stay hydrated. And so we continued to wait and let my body labor gently. Slow and steady wins the race, right?

Throughout the day, the contractions remained about 5-7 minutes apart. R’s sister went home and we assured her we’d call if anything happened. By 9:45 Tuesday night, I woke R up and told him I was starting to need help getting through the contractions. R started timing the contractions and they were coming every 3 minutes. I was also becoming increasingly uncomfortable during them.  So, R ran a bath and I sat in the tub while he poured water over my belly. While the water felt great, the bottom of the tub was so slippery, and I was using my legs to keep me from sliding down. It just was not very comfortable. But, it passed some time, and this is where R and I fell into sync: he watched quietly during contractions and talked to me gently after each one was done. He did awesome. I think I was only in the tub for about a half hour when I felt like I needed to get up and move around. We decided to time the contractions again for a while to make sure it was the real deal and then we would update the midwives.

At 11:00 there was a change of plans: my water broke all over the living room floor. R actually heard it ‘pop’ from the other side of the room. That was the first and only time I experienced any sort of "fear" about the birth. For some reason, I couldn't look at the waters that had just flowed from me. I made R look for me, and as soon as he told me they were clear, my fear was completely gone and my head was back in the game. Right after my water broke, I felt a very welcome relief of pressure. The bag of waters must have really been pressing against my cervix. But that nice feeling only last a few minutes because after that, the contractions immediately picked up in intensity and frequency. We called 'I' and the midwives and by midnight, the whole team was assembled for the job ahead.

As everyone was arriving, I was on the floor on my hands and knees trying to work through the contractions, but my legs were starting to shake and I felt like I needed to get off of them for a while. The midwives helped me lay down in bed on my side and we labored like that while the birth pool was getting filled up. I couldn’t wait to crawl into that pool!! My body was starting to get that pushy feeling and I had even asked for the bucket to throw up in (Ha!) so I was feeling happy, assuming I must be getting close. I got in the pool and my body continued to give little pushes and I remember thinking “Well, the midwives got here just in time! This is happening so fast!”














After I was in the pool for a while, my midwife asked to check and see how dilated I was. I crawled out of the pool and was devastated to learn I was only about 6-7cm! My mood immediately changed. This was exactly what happened with my first two labors: I got the urge to push “too early” and the reminder of my first two “failed” vaginal deliveries just completely devastated me. I started to try and beg R and the midwives to just let me go to the hospital and have a c-section since I was convinced my body was betraying me yet again. But as hard as I tried to tell them that I couldn’t to do this anymore, the more they told me that I WAS doing it — one contraction at a time. And a half hour later, when the midwife checked me again, I was at 8cm. And then 9. I was still having the urge to push, but the midwife said that it obviously wasn’t swelling my cervix at all and I was progressing well, so to continue to work with my body rather than fight it. She just kept telling me to give each contraction only the amount of energy it required and nothing more. Wise words!

The next time she checked me, she noticed that I had a stubborn lip on one side of my cervix that wouldn’t thin out. She recommended that I lay on that side of my body and she gave me the option to let it work itself out or she could help push back the lip during contractions. Pushing back the lip would be “pretty intense” she said, but it may make baby come faster. I decided I wanted my baby here faster, so she worked on the cervical lip while I clung to R’s hands.

And then I felt my contractions change and knew that it was pushing time for real!! Because the midwives could feel that C was coming down a bit crooked, they recommended that I get in some different positions to help move him down. Moving around during that part of labor was not exactly fun, but it worked. I could literally feel his little body moving and adjusting with each change that I made. I was so proud of my tiny little son doing his part to help with his own birth. So amazing.
Once it got to the point where I could reach up and feel his little head, it was game on. I was so ready to meet this little person and ready to do whatever it took to get to the finish line. We were about half way into the 1 hour it took to push him out when I made a stunning realization: If I got his head pushed out to his ears, I was going to have to sit there like that with him halfway out until the next contraction. I said this to the midwives and they got a good laugh over the fact that I was just now realizing that. So, yes indeed, I got him out about halfway and then had to wait for the next contraction to push the rest of his head out. That was probably the longest moments of my life, but after that, he was out and on my chest. It was perfect.

He came out so calmly and peacefully alert. The midwives joked saying “Does he even know he was born?” He pinked up really quickly and immediately started nursing like a champ. He had a little bit of extra fluid in his lungs that the midwives helped him take care of, but his apgar scores were both 8s and they declared him A-OK.

I still am not sure that I have fully processed the culmination of basically a 7 year journey. I am so happy that I finally got to give birth on these terms: just me and my baby working together in the way we were designed to do. I wasn’t a hero — I didn’t handle it with quiet grace and poise like I had hoped I would. I moaned and grunted and even cried my way through it all. But I wouldn’t take it back or change it for the world. It was real. It was powerful. It was birth!

Birth is truly transforming… and even though I know it isn't ALL about the experience; even though I know having a healthy baby is the ultimate goal, it doesn't change the fact that I am so grateful for having had it. I can finally say I got to experience that beautiful transformation. I am so very blessed!
For more information on what the evidence says about VBAC, visit: VBACfacts.com