Part Two: THE TRAUMA OF BIRTH
On the day the baby was due, we held a BBQ for my in-laws, my Mom and a few friends. I didn't tell anyone, but I had been feeling contractions since the morning. I was sure the baby was going to come that day. After everyone had left and we had cleaned up I gave my Mom and Hubby a heads up and we headed down to the little park under the house to walk. By around 11 that night, my contractions were every 3 minutes lasting around 2 minutes each. I was thrilled. I was feeling very little of the contactions thanks to the Hypnobirthing and was laughing and joking and so excited for this baby. We went back to the house and informed hubby that tonight was the night and to get ready. He panicked, the realization that this was actually going to happen hitting him all at once. I suggested we all go lie down for an hour or two and try to get some rest as this was bound to be a long night and the midwife was only 10 minutes away so we had plenty of time before we needed her. We fell asleep excited about what was to come...
9 AM... I woke up, confused. I lay there for a few minutes and waited for the familiar tightening of a contraction that I had felt so many times over the last 5 months that it had become a part of my daily routine. Nothing. I spoke spoke to my midwife and she said it was normal to have a false labor and that it was probably a sign that the baby would come in the next few days. We set about on labor mode. I tried everything. We walked, we did stairs, I ate spicy food, spent hours massaging reflexology points in my hands and feet, had loads of sex (though to be honest, it was more like an episode of the Three Stooges and I approached it with the same sort of excitement that a 9 year old approaches math homework on a Saturday). Nothing worked. I stopped talking to the baby and started giving what one might call "persuasive encouragement". Example of persuasive encouragement: "GETTTT OOOOUUUUTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" In my opinion, his lease was up and he was default on the rent payments. I had made it to full term, I had fulfilled my duty, I was done.
Fast forward another 12 days. My midwife now informs me that I am on a deadline. Unbeknownst to me until that moment, midwives in Israel cannot deliver after 42 weeks gestation. I had two days to give birth before she could no longer oversee my homebirth. I asked why she had not told me this earlier and she admitted that she never thought I would make it to full term, let alone go over due. Admittedly I was a bit upset. I so desperately did not want a hospital birth. I NEEDED to have my baby on my own terms. She suggested trying Castor oil to induce labor. Now for those of you who do not know alot about Castor oil, let me just say without going into great detail that it WILL ruin your day. (It is now two months later and I still have the taste of 80's era old Mary Kay lipstick on the edges of my memories). I was not thrilled at the idea, but was up against a wall and this was pretty much a sure fire way to go into labor.
I tried it.
It ruined my day.
I did not go into labor.
42 weeks. My midwife bailed. I cried. Alot. My dreams of a natural home birth were slipping away and I could do nothing to stop it. To this day I have little doubt that the reason I did not go into labor was the fact that I was under a deadline. Stress causes the body to hold tension. Muscles that are tense cannot relax. A body that cannot relax cannot go into labor.
I let a few hours pass before I started making phone calls with an almost military persistence. I found a midwife in the North of Israel who was willing to oversee my birth. She was not bound by Israeli laws as she was an American midwife and though she could not "Officially" oversee the birth, she would come as a "knowledgeable friend who just happened to be there at the right time". She could not guarantee that she would make it to the birth as she was quite far away and had several other clients due to give birth but she promised to be available on the phone should we have to deliver the baby on our own. I was THRILLED. I was back on track and so ready for this baby. She was amazing. I was sure that it was fate that had brought her to me and she was so supportive I was sure that everything was going to be perfect.
I was wrong.
We had been going to the hospital for monitors since I hit 42 weeks on the recommendation of my original midwife. 42 and 1 day, baby's fine. The doctor in the hospital wanted to induce. We refused and signed out AMA. 42 weeks and 2 days, baby's fine. Doctor really pushed us to induce, pulled us into the hospital equivalent of The Principal's Office and gave us lectures on all the terrible things that can go wrong blah blah blah. We refused and sign out AMA. 42 weeks and 3 days, the monitor was okay, one small dip but otherwise fine. More Principal's office. More threats. More fear mongering. I was beginning to wear down. Doctor demanded induction. We refused. He asked us to come in the next morning for a more in depth monitor. We agreed and signed out AMA.
42 weeks 4 days. I woke up feeling shit. I was hot, I was fat, I was so over being pregnant. I was no longer sleeping. I was beginning to worry. I was running late. I didn't eat. Big mistake. We did the monitor and there were worried mummers from the nurses. They treated me like a pariah. I'm not sure they had even seen someone go past 42 weeks before, let alone 4 days past. The first 20 minutes of the monitor showed low activity. They made me eat and did another half an hour or so. More Principal's office.
This time the doctor was just downright mean. He literally looked me in the eye and told me I was going to kill my baby. I was sitting on the exam table in tears and he asked me why I was crying. I told him I was not a big fan of Doctors and hospitals. He said "well we don't like you much either". I looked at my husband and told him we were going home. I did not know what I was going to do but I knew one thing. That man wasn't getting NEAR me OR my baby again.
We signed out AMA again. I spent a good hour plus on the phone to the new midwife, to my hypnobirthing instructor, to various other hospitals who had natural birthing suites. I was determined that if I had to have this baby in a hospital that I would hold on to as much of my natural birth as possible. Hubby finally got ahold of a hospital in Netanya that agreed to give us as close to a natural birth as possible. We called Hubby's parents to give us a ride there as it was about an hours drive away.
Now in the interest of family harmony I will try and give them the benefit of the doubt, maybe they misunderstood, maybe their phones translated what we were saying into Chinese, who knows, but when we called everyone said they couldn't take us. "Now isn't a good time." Now isn't a good time?!?!?!?!? It's not a bloody good time for me either!!! Another hour. I'm panicking, we've put in calls to every friend with a car that we know. I started to worry that maybe the doctor was right, maybe my baby was dying. Finally Hubby's family's phone stopped speaking Chinese and they realized that we needed a ride THEN, and that we weren't joking around.
At this point I was worried about driving all the way to Netanya, we had already lost a good three hours. More phone calls. We finally got ahold of someone at Tel Ha Shomer hospital in Tel Aviv. It was only a 20 minute drive. They promised us a birthing suite in a natural birthing center. They wouldn't push Pitocin. They had other more natural methods of induction. I could still have a water birth. They wouldn't cut the cord. They wouldn't vaccinate. They wouldn't take the baby away. I was satisfied. We were off. I was resigned to the fact that this baby would be born in a hospital, I was disappointed but I was still getting most of the experience I wanted. I had no idea how wrong I would be.
***Let me pause and say here that though it probably sounds terrible to those who cannot possibly understand, the birth of my child was one of the most emotionally painful, horrifying, traumatic events of my life. I am not sure I will ever get over it. My Hypnobirthing instructor told me that writing the experience down would be a way of purging the trauma from my body. This is the first time I have been able to fully relive things, it is not easy.***
We arrived at the hospital around 1:30 in the afternoon. I was already worn out from the events of the day and looking forward to a bed and a nap. Little did I know sleep was very VERY far away. We went to admissions and explained the situation with the monitor and that we were there to check into the Natural birthing suite. It was then that we were told that they did not accept anyone over 42 weeks. Not only that but we had to reserve it in advance, as if I KNEW what day I was going into labor. This was only the beginning. We spent the next several hours speaking to doctor after doctor trying to be sure that we would still be allowed to have the birth we wanted. They estimated the size of the baby be anywhere from 3.6 kilos to 4.2 kilos and told me in short that there was no possible way for me to have this baby vaginally. They told stories of shoulder dysplasia with permanent crippling and babies dying because they were to big to fit. It was horrible but I knew the statistics proved them wrong and we stood our ground. After months of research, we had decided not to cut the baby's umbilical cord until it had stopped pulsing to be sure that it was able to retain all of the beneficial blood from the placenta. The doctors at the hospital tried to convince us that this would cause the baby to have "to much blood" and cause seizures, brain damage and death. We knew the statistics proved them wrong and stood our ground. After much arguing and a lecture from the on call Pediatrician they further agreed to not vaccinate at birth, to not give Pitocin etc. I would not be allowed to give birth in water but the birthing rooms had tubs and showers in them. I decided I would conveniently not have time to get out of the tub before the baby came. I finally agreed to check in. It was almost 8 PM. We had been at this since 9 AM. I had been up since 5 AM.
I get into the labor room and settle in. It does not have a tub or a shower in it. Only the birthing rooms have those. I would not be allowed in a birthing room until I was at 4 cm. I was at 1... Barely...
We met the doctor on call and She went through a whole shpeil blah blah blah yada yada "and we're going to start the Pitocin" (insert record screeching noise here).
"WHAAATTT?!?!?!" The Doctors had promised no Pitocin. Natural inductions etc would be tried first. I was bloody 42 weeks and 4 days!! Surely I would only need a little nudge and I would go into labor!! More arguing, more round and round. I was getting more than frustrated at all the broken promises. Hubby finally persuaded the doctor to try a Balloon induction which is basically when they insert a balloon into the cervix and slowly inflate it with saline to help dilate the cervix. Fine. Do it.
Several hours pass. Its almost midnight. I have yet to sleep as they have been coming and going, poking me with needles and taking blood pressure every 10 minutes it seems. They also have me hooked to a monitor and wont take me off. I'm uncomfortable. I'm tired. I'm mourning the loss of my home birth. I'm trying to stay optimistic. The doctor comes back with the balloon for the induction. Seconds before they begin I spot on the package that it's Latex. I'm allergic to latex. It says this all over my paperwork and is written In BIG letters on the GIANT RED Bracelet on my arm. They still seem surprised. They disappear again to find a Latex free balloon.
1 AM..
1:30 AM...
2 AM... The doctors return with a latex free balloon and begin the procedure. In order to insert the balloon they need me to elevate my hips. Now one would think they had some sort of balloon insertion pillow or thingy to assist this. No. They have a bad-pan wrapped in a towel and turned upside down. Keep in mind I am a million months pregnant at this point, and absolutely HUGE. They tell me to just slide it under my hips. JUST... I love that word JUST. When someone uses just in a sentence, it usually means they want you to do something that they have either never had to do, never want to do, or simply do not understand the complexity of. Just.. But I digress...
Okay, let say JUST sliding the inverted towel covered bedpan under me was easier said than done and required quite a bit of acrobatics. Somewhere around two seconds after it was in place I felt a large pop and then excruciating pain radiating through my lower back and into my hip. I have had a bad back due to multiple horseback riding accidents for most of my life. The pressure of the bedpan and the sadistic yoga position that they had placed me in had caused a disc in my lower back to slip out of place, pinching a nerve in my hip and causing my hipbone to slip a bit out of socket. I screamed at them to let me off the bed pan so that I could at least pop my hip back into place. They told me that it would just be a second before it was over. Five minutes passed... I was dying. Not only does it hurt, it was extremely invasive and once they finally finished and taped it to my leg I came to the horrifying realization that the pulsating drip of the saline filling the balloon made it feel as if I had a writhing creature inside of me. I struggled to cope, to take myself anywhere but where I was. My husband held my hand and tried to keep me calm.
A few hours passed and the balloon slipped out. Fantastic!! This must mean I'm fully dilated!! Lets go!! Oh but wait.. They forgot to mention that the non latex balloon does not inflate as much as the latex balloon. Sorry, WHAT??? I was only 2 and a half centimeters. All that and virtually nothing. They wanted to strip my membranes. Fine. Do it.. More invasion, more pain, more tears. Still virtually no dilation. 3 cm...
At this point its around 11 or so the next morning. I was not in labor, HOWEVER the lovely proceedure from the night before had left me with so much residual back pain that I cannot lie down, cannot stand or walk, and the only way I was barely comfortable is when I was sitting upright on the very edge of the bed. Needless to say, no sleep... New doctor comes in and basically tells us that there is nothing left and that we must start Pitocin. For those of you who don't know Pitocin is the synthetic replacement for the natural hormone Oxytocin, also known as the "feel good" hormone. It is the same hormone that is released during sex. It is also released during labor to help start the contractions as well as to trigger the brain to produce natural pain relievers. Pitocin does the same thing as Oxytocin except alot faster and without the natural feelings of euphoria and pain releif. I am terrified of Pitocin.
My mother nearly lost my brother and died herself during childbirth because to much Pitocin was administered to fast and it threw her into such hard labor that it put my brother into distress. She was given an Emergancy C Section and my brother barely made it. (He is fine now with no lingering side affects, but that is another story all together) I explain my fears to the doctor. She agrees to start it on the lowest level and see if contractions start up. If they do she agreed to take me off of the Pitocin and let my body do the rest. I am ready to get this over with. I give up my last hopes at a drug free natural labor in the hopes of a healthy baby. Fine. Do it.
Three or four hours later a new Doctor came back, I assumed to start the Pitocin. Wrong again. He explained that they needed to start Pitocin to get the baby out blah blah same shpeil. We informed him that we had been through this, explained the conversation with the last doctor, agreed to the Pitocin. Lets friggin GO already. More time passed. The first Pitocin Doc came back in and wanted to know why I was not on the Pitocin, that I really should have been on it by then. WELL THATS WHAT I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW!!!
Finally they started the Pitocin around 7 PM. Almost immediately I was having hard contractions. I tried to do my hypnobirthing to relax. It helped some. After half an hour the nurse came in and turned up the machine. We explained what the doctor said and she says it is "protocol" and refused to turn it down. We demand a Doctor. Time passed. My contractions were now coming back to back. I had the urge to push. There was no doubt in my mind that I was in labor and ready to give birth. They checked me for dilation and I was still only 3 cm. I explained to the nurse that I need to be taken off the Pitocin, that it was to strong and that I am needing to push. She tells me I was only 3 cm, I could not possibly be needing to push, because she OBVIOUSLY knew what was going on more clearly than I did. Again we demand a Doctor. Again no one came. Again she turned up the Pitocin. At this point my mother literally grabbed her by the arm, unplugged the drip and screammed NO! But it had already worked its magic. My body was so confused by the influx of artificial hormones that it had slammed me into hard labor without first dilating. There was no pattern to the contractions, it was just one solid contraction with tiny hiccups in between. My body was slamming the baby's head against a closed cervix. They checked me again. 2 and a half cm. My cervix was swelling, I was going backwards.
I begged to be allowed into a birthing room so that I could have a shower and use the water for pain relief. They wouldn't admit me until I was at 4 cm. I was shit outta luck. Finally Hubby demanded I be allowed a shower. The nurse agreed to 5 minutes as she insisted I be hooked up to the monitor full time. She stuck to this. We danced in this sadistic ballet for hours. Amazing five minute glimpses into a pain free world broken up with half an hour tied to a monitor out of my mind with pain. Finally the nurse got sick of me, sick of my husband, sick of my screams of pain (at this point Hypno birthing was out the window, the Pitocin and sleep deprivation had made it impossible for me to relax enough to breathe through the pain) and pronounced me at 4 cm. It was around 11 PM.
More time passed... Finally I got to the birthing room and into the shower. I sat in a chair with hot water on my belly and blissed out for a good half an hour, half sleeping against the wall. I then slowly realized that I was past the point that the water was helping. They wanted to do a monitor, they wanted to do a check, they wanted to take blood. I could not stand. I was exhausted out of my mind and could no longer think straight. I was crying. Everything was spiraling so far out of control and I had a creeping feeling that things were going very wrong. The pain intensified as I got out of the shower. The monitor showed a solid contraction, there were no peaks and valleys like there should be. The Pitocin had completely confused my body. I could not breathe. I could not get a break in the pain.
The nurse on call sat me down and looked me in the eye. She told me I needed an epidural but I refused. I explained through the painful moans that I did not want drugs. I wanted to be able to move for labor to try different positions, to be able to catch my own baby, to have it be alert and awake and not clouded with drugs when it was born. She told me she understood. She knew how much I had wanted things to be different, how badly I had wanted to do this on my own, naturally. She told me that I was exhausted, that I needed to sleep, that I could not possibly continue like this. She said I had given it the best effort she had seen but that I could not possibly continue much longer. I was making myself sick. The pain of the contractions combined with the pain of my back and my hip was to much or my body. I was wearing out myself and wearing out the baby. I needed to rest. I saw the last threads of my natural birth slipping through my fingers. I agreed to the epidural.
Once I had resigned myself to getting the drugs I did not want to wait. I was terrified of the side effects that I had read about. The numbness, the partial paralization, the long term chronic pain. I just wanted it over with. I just wanted a break. I spent the next half hour clenching my husbands hands on the edge of a chair watching the monitor hoping for a tiny dip in the contractions so I could wrap my head around things. I was falling asleep for a second at a time, my head dipping in exhaustion. I could only stare into my husbands eyes and beg for a break in the pain, my eyes no longer would even produce tears.
The Anesthesiologist finally came and shooed my mother and husband out of the room. I was terrified. The nurse helped me into a sitting position so that he could start the spinal. He spoke very little English and it was marred by a heavy Russian accent. He told me how important it was that I not move or even breathe while he was doing the spinal. I asked him to wait for a break in the contraction but he would not. He kept yelling at me because I was not bent over far enough so that my spine would stick out through the skin. He forgot to take into the fact that I had a monstrous belly that I was carrying very high. I PHYSICALLY COULDN'T bend ANY FURTHER than what I was bent. The nurse ended up having to push my shoulders down and physically force me into the correct position. All the while the contractions were washing over me still clustered tightly together. Finally the artificial feeling of synthetic numbness washed over me. It was uneven. While my right side was pleasantly numb, my left side was dead to the world. I could not move. I had to be lifted and scooted and shoved into a lying down position. They started the Pitocin again in the hopes that it would establish a rhythm in the contractions so that I would start to dilate again.
With the physical pain muted and nothing left but the emotional pain and feeling of failure I slept. We all slept. By the next morning I was dilated to 6, quickly progressing to 7 and then to 9 by around noon. I was excited. After three days of labor I was so ready for this baby to be born I cannot put it into words. My water broke around 11 and there was muconium present so in the back of my mind I was worried but birth was immanent. They checked me again around one, still at 9 cm but they were not worried. They tweaked the Pitocin. I tried to rest. By 2 I was again feeling the urge to push. The sweet American midwife who was on call the first day I checked in was back on duty and started to set up the room for delivery. I woke up Hubby and told him it was almost time. The air in the room had changed to a feeling of relief, the tension was gone. We celebrated. Suddenly things started going very wrong.
I had been complaining about pain at the site of my IV for two days. They kept brushing me away and telling me I was being melodramatic. I started feeling very ill, dizzy, disconnected. I felt faint. Turns out I had contracted a bad infection at the IV sight. It started to swell and get very red and hot. I spiked a high fever. The baby went into distress. Doctors swarmed. They explained to me that the baby had turned somehow due to the strength and irregularity of the contractions brought on by the Pitocin before the Epidural. He was now what they call "Sunny side up" which means he was approaching the birth canal with his face to my belly button and not to my back the way he should be. This was causing his head to get stuck in my pelvis. My labor had stalled. They had to get the baby out. They told me that they were going to have to do a Cesarean Section on me. This was my worst nightmare.
What had happened to my mother was now happening to me. They told me my husband would not be allowed to come with me. I was hysterical. I begged for them to let him come. I was to terrified of being cut open. I did not speak the language enough to understand what was going on and I needed him there to comfort me and keep me calm. They finally told me I had two choices. The first was to go into surgery immediately and that my husband would be able to come with me as long as the anesthesia took properly and they did not have to put me under full anesthesia. The second was to wait and hour in the hopes that my body would dilate the last cm, that my fever would not go any higher, and that I could push the baby out on my own. They said that if I did not dilate or my fever went up that it would be a case where we would be running down the hall in the attempt to save the baby's life.
I had to come to grips with the fact that everything I had wanted for my birth was now out the window. I was being given antibiotics for the infection and the baby and I would have to be given antibiotics for days after birth. I was pumped full of artificial hormones, painkillers, who knows what else. My body was not mine anymore. I was at the complete disposal of the Medical System. I gave up. I agreed to go into surgery immediately so at least my husband could still be there for the birth of his first child. He wanted so badly to be the one to catch the baby, to announce the sex, to be the only arms to hold his child in the first few seconds of its life. I was mourning the loss of that for both of us.
I was wheeled into surgery and moved onto a table in a large cold sterile room. The surgeons were getting everything ready, laughing and joking. I knew enough Hebrew to understand that they were talking about a barbecue that they were going to after work and all the steaks they would be eating. I hadn't eaten in three days. I asked them to stop. They busied themselves with drapings and scrubbing and sterilizing every part of me. I looked up and realized I could see the reflection of my body in the mirrored edges of the lights above me. I panicked and begged them to cover the lights so that I could not see as they cut into me. They extended a drape so that I could no longer see. A few minutes passed and the Anesthesiologist asked me if I could feel anything. I could not and I told her as much. This was a good sign as it meant that I would not have to go under general anesthesia and my husband could come in. I asked when he was coming. "He isn't" She told me. "It's to late. We've already started."
I was devastated. Tears ran down my face and I stifled sobs as I came to the realization that the first faces that my baby saw would be a strangers. The first voices not the ones he had heard talking and singing to him for the last 9 months, but unfamiliar voices, devoid of emotion. The first hands that he felt would not be those of his parents, but that of a surgeon that did not see him as something special, merely a duty that had to be completed before a barbecue. I lay there as I felt them searching inside me, pulling, tugging. A pause. The baby was to big to come out the original incision. They had to cut me a second time. More fumbling, more tugging. I could feel their hands inside me as they ripped my baby from me. I heard him cry as he left the warm world he had known for his entire life and was pulled into the shocking cold of the operating room. They held him up for me to see, only they did not hold him up enough to allow for the extra draping. I could not see him. He was whisked away. I begged for them to let me see my child. I could hear him crying on the other side of the room. I wanted to comfort him, to hold him. I heard as his cries got further away as they took him from the room. Still begging I saw the anesthesiologist insert something into my IV. Though I had specifically said that I was not to be given any sort of drugs, she went against my wishes and I slipped into a fog...
No comments:
Post a Comment