In May 2011, I found out I was pregnant after more than a year of trying to conceive. I had really given up hope, believing that there must have been something wrong with me and was waiting for an appointment with a specialist. The positive pregnancy tests felt like miracles all on their own. I had a fairly easy pregnancy, minor morning sickness in my first trimester, but I got used to that, and cramps throughout, but for the most part I was able to continue working – in child care with infants and teaching dance – right up until the end of 2011. My baby was due in the middle of January.
There were a few things that I knew from the start I wanted, or didn’t want, when it came time for my labour and delivery. I wanted a natural birth, no 
drugs, no induction. Now, I know that you cannot plan the birth of your child and it rarely goes as planned, but I really tried to go through with my plan. I was born 2 weeks and 6 days late, I was a healthy baby, therefore, I saw no reason to have my baby induced any earlier than 3 weeks. This is a problem for doctors, as much as they WANT to let you do things your way when it comes to the birth of your child, they have a very difficult time letting you go past one week over.
I was due on a Saturday, the following Tuesday I had an appointment with my doctor. She did the usual check, listen to the heartbeat and measure to make sure the baby is still growing normally, and she checked my cervix (for the first time), she had intended to do a membrane sweep to help get things started so that I would be able to have my baby naturally without induction. The only problem was, my cervix was still closed and still very posterior, there was no way she could do a sweep. She also asked me how I would like to proceed now that I was past my due date, I told her I did not want to be induced and an ultrasound was set for Friday and an appointment was set for the following Tuesday with my doctor.
The ultrasound went great, the baby received a score of 8/8 meaning that she was moving, breathing and the placenta was still in great shape. Again on Tuesday, regular check up with a check on my cervix with intent to sweep – still closed and posterior, no sweep. At this point I was more than a week past my due date, my doctor is not feeling comfortable allowing me pass the two week mark. We come to a compromise that I will go into the induction clinic on the following Monday, close enough to the two weeks that she is not overly worried about it, but far enough along that I feel comfortable with the appointment as well. I also had another ultrasound on the Tuesday, another 8/8, everything looks fine, no cause for worry. I get a call shortly after leaving my ultrasound telling me that the appointment at the induction clinic will actually be the following day – I am not pleased. I call the induction clinic, feeling very angry that they have not scheduled me for the date requested, to find out that it is because they will not allow me to pass the two week mark without coming in to see them – new compromise, I schedule an appointment for the Friday, the day before the two week mark, the same day as my next ultrasound.
Got the ultrasound done first, 8/8 once again, everything is still looking fine. Then off to the induction clinic where I feared the worst. With all the pressure to go to the induction clinic sooner, I assumed they would pressure me into induction sooner. However, to my surprise, they were very understanding, a little hesitant, but understanding of my wishes. The doctor at the induction clinic checked my cervix and did a membrane sweep, my cervix was still not dilated, but she was able to do a sweep. Another appointment was made for the induction clinic for Monday, but the hope was that the sweep would get things moving along over the weekend.
Friday afternoon and evening I had some cramping, as to be expected after a membrane sweep, but no contractions yet. By Saturday evening I was having regular contractions 7 minutes apart, not close enough to warrant a trip to the hospital, but close enough to keep me awake all night. The contractions carried on through Sunday, still 7 minutes apart, but quite strong – another sleepless night. Monday we had another ultrasound and another appointment at the induction clinic. I was first admitted to Early Labour Assessment in the hopes that my appointments would not be necessary. I was only slightly dilated, so I was sent for my ultrasound and to the induction clinic as planned. Another 8/8 in the ultrasound, another membrane sweep at the induction clinic. They scheduled me for induction on the Wednesday (that would be February, that was the date on which I told myself I would allow induction), but I was also sent back to Early Labour Assessment to be assessed again in the hopes that the baby would be born before Wednesday. This time, I was dilated about 1.5 cm, not much, but a pretty big change from the morning. They allowed me to stay for a while in a birthing room, to be assessed a little later. I was assessed again around 5:30pm, no change, and then assessed again 2 hours later, still no change. No point to stay in the hospital now, I can stay awake in the discomfort of the hospital birthing room, or in the comfort of my own home – we left. The contractions became more unbearable later in the evening, but still about 7 minutes apart. I was ready to go back into the hospital, the pain had become more than I could handle. I took some tylenol to keep me comfortable in the car on the drive back to the hospital. Then we had a non-contraction-induced chat about heading back into the hospital and I came to my senses, there was no point in going to the hospital to be sent home again. Luckily, I had already taken some tylenol and was able to get short periods of rest through the night. The contractions didn’t seem as bad in the morning, so we decided to head into town, do some shopping for my nephews birthdays and see if the walking through the mall would get things going – it did. The contractions came on quite strong at the mall, causing me to have to stop walking until they passed each time. We left the mall and headed back to the hospital, were sent to Early Labour Assessment where my cervix was checked again – I was now 3 cm. There was definitely some change, but the baby was not coming any time soon. We left the hospital with the intentions of returning after supper, but it was my nephews’ birthday dinner, and we had to eat so we figured we might as well eat with family.
We returned to the hospital after dinner, they put us in a birth unit for the evening and checked in on me periodically, but we were mostly on our own through the night. The contractions we strong, I took some tylenol to try to ease the pain so I could get some rest, that night, the tylenol did not help. Around 6am my cervix was checked again and I was at about 5 cm, they declared me in active labour. The nurse that would be with us for the day came in and informed me that I would not be allowed to eat once I was in active labour, but she got me a slice of toast before officially starting in the room with me. At 8:30 am, my doctor arrived at the hospital to break my water. Then, things got interesting. The contractions began piling on top of one another, they were not regular and they lasted longer than normal. As the day progressed, they became more and more intense with less time between. At noon, an oxytocin drip was started because I was not progressing enough. Around 6pm, I could not take the pain and opted for the nitrous oxide to help me through, I was only allowed to use it for 2 hours, but I felt like that would be enough relief to help me get through the rest. My mother arrived shortly after taking the nitrous oxide. Between contractions, I looked at my mother, and the nurse who was with us all day (she was 37 weeks pregnant with her 2nd child at the time), and I said, I do not understand why anyone in their right mind would choose to do this more than once. By 7:00pm, when my doctor returned to the hospital, I was 7 cm. I had a fever at this point and was given antibiotics to make sure the baby would not get an infection. The monitor was having a hard time picking up the baby’s heartbeat, it kept switching back and forth between the baby’s heartbeat and mine. A scalp monitor was put on my baby’s head – something else I did not want. We were shown the scalp monitors in our prenatal class, it is held to the baby’s head by a small metal spring that is screwed into the scalp – I knew the baby wouldn’t remember it, and might not even feel it, but it seems rather cruel to me and I didn’t want it. I was not given a choice. The plan for the evening was explained to me – first, the monitor on the baby’s head, then, an epidural and finally, if things did not progress, c-section. I broke down, cried uncontrollably – I just couldn’t believe that it was happening this way and that there was nothing I could do to change it. The anesthesiologist arrived and explained to me that they would not give me the epidural if I did not want it, but it really was no longer an option, with an impending c-section my choices were; have them stick the epidural in my back and be awake when my baby was born, or opt out of the epidural and be unconscious when my baby was born. The second was not an option. The anesthesiologist explained to the student that was with him that it is always harder to give an epidural to a woman who doesn’t really want it. It was probably the most unpleasant part of the whole experience, the feeling like electricity shooting down my left leg, and then not to be able to feel my legs, as a dancer, was very difficult. But, on the bright side, I did manage to get some sleep after that. For some people, especially people in a situation like the one I was in, the epidural helps things to progress by allowing them to relax – this was not the case for me. At 11:30pm, the operating room was about to be available for my c-section, so my cervix was checked again to see if I had progressed and would be able to deliver vaginally – still 7 cm. We were prepped for surgery. Scott was given scrubs so he could be there with me and I was given more antibiotics and a disgusting liquid to chug to stop me from getting sick during the procedure – it didn’t work. The procedure was explained to me in more detail, I was assured that it would be a very quick surgery and the longest part would be the stitching me up at the end. I was wheeled to the operating room where they asked me to slide myself onto the operating table – using my numb body, didn’t really work very well. Once I was on the table, the tilted it to the left ever so slightly so that I would feel like I was going to fall to the floor during the entire procedure. They upped the anesthetic in the epidural to the point where I could not feel the majority of my torso or my legs, this caused uncontrollable shivering to the point where I felt that I could not breathe. I remember asking several times if I had a baby yet, the answer was always no. Then, they said it was a girl. Scott left and trimmed the cord, then he carried our baby girl back to me so that I could see her. It was so hard not to be able to hold her right away, but it felt amazing to be able to see her and kiss her.
The first time I met my little girl.
We arrived in the operating room at 12am and Lily was born at 12:40am and we were in the recovery room shortly after 1am. Lily was placed on my chest for some much needed skin on skin time. As soon as I was holding her, all the pain and disappointment of the last four days dissipated and didn’t matter anymore, she was amazing! I looked at Scott and told him that I understand now why people choose to do this more than once. Our temperatures were taken and I once again had a fever and Lily’s temperature was high too, but they didn’t know if she had a fever or if it was simply because she had been laying on my overheating body. We were made to wait for another half an hour to have her temperature taken again before we were able to be moved to a room – Lily no longer had a fever and we were taken upstairs.
The first day was fabulous, we were smitten with our baby girl and everything seemed to be going right. I was trying to nurse her, which wasn’t working so well, but I knew that it would be hard for the first few days until my milk came in. By the end of the day, however, the nurse convinced us that we should give her some formula so that she would not get too hungry, we agreed with her, we didn’t want to starve her. In the morning, the next nurse seemed to think that was not a good idea, and told me all new things about trying to nurse. So, on day 2 I tried to follow the new nurses ideas. At the end of day 2, nursing still wasn’t going well and Lily was VERY hungry. We gave her more formula and the nurse came up with a plan for us for the next day, I would try to nurse her first, then if she wouldn’t nurse we would give her formula and then I would pump to try to get the milk flowing to make nursing easier for her. This sounded like a good plan, I stuck to it for the whole day, was never able to pump more than a few drops and Lily got a lot of formula. Day 3 was much more successful, Lily had a full belly and was happy, I felt like we were perhaps making some progress in the nursing department and I was happy. Day 4, our discharge day, I stopped pumping, I was still trying to nurse before giving her formula, but I was ready to go home and didn’t want to pump anymore. By the end of day 4, Lily was screaming at me when I would try to nurse, she didn’t want to have to try to nurse before getting the formula, so I began giving her just formula. On day 5, I got a call from a public health nurse who was willing to come to my house to try to help us work out our nursing issues. She brought a nifty gadget that would give Lily formula while I was trying to nurse her. This was fabulous, Lily stopped screaming at me when I would try to nurse, she would even stay latched on for several seconds, maybe even a minute, before getting milk. I used this at every feeding for the next few days. On the fourth day of using this lovely little gadget, I felt like Lily must be getting some breast milk when she is feeding, so I gave her a smaller amount of formula, when the formula was gone I put the gadget away and tried to nurse her without it, she began screaming at me again like she had been before. This caused me a great deal of stress, I had not been concerned about breast feeding before she was born, I had intended to try, but if it didn’t work I was okay with formula, but after having a c-section I felt like nursing was the only thing I had left and I was determined to do it. That was the final straw, however, when she began screaming at me for taking away the formula, I knew that we would not be able to nurse, it was becoming far too stressful for both of us and it wasn’t worth it.
I had a very hard time with both of these things. The c-section made me feel like a failure as a mother. I was told that there was no way I would have been able to give birth to her, she was just too big, but I still felt like this was a failure, like it said something about me as a person, and as a mother. Then, the difficulty with breast feeding added to this. It was supposed to be my redemption, to create that bond that I felt like I was missing with my newborn infant, but instead it created stress and tears. I still struggle with these things from time to time. When we are up at night and she is crying uncontrollably and I can’t figure out how to soothe her, I find myself wondering if it would have been different if I had been able to give birth to her naturally or if I had been able to nurse her. I ask myself if I had been able to do those things, would my bond with my baby girl be stronger, would I be able to soothe her easier, would I be able to know what was making her so upset and meet the needs that she was trying to tell me were not being met? Really, I will never know if it would have made a difference, and when I look at her – and she is happy – I know none of that matters, she is happy and healthy, and we will do everything we can to keep it that way, and I think she knows that, too.
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