REDO!!! The TOP TEN LABOR STORIES (closed)

here are our winners!




Lego - 105 points
Archer/Desmond - 83 points
Colin - 50 points
Paige - 32 points
Ella - 28 points



**voting closes on october 3rd**

w/out further ado: here are the top 10 most compelling stories as voted on by baby gaga members--(i'm putting them up in alphabetical order):
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The Births of Archer Gabriel & Desmond Jackby: http://members.baby-gaga.com/member505956

I told you it was twins!” I yelled, smacking my shocked husband on his shoulder as he stared at the two white glowing bodies on the screen of the ultrasound machine in the darkened room at my doctors office. “Did you really know?” the ultrasound tech asked, laughing. My heart was beating a mile a minute, I was laughing and didn’t know what was more shocking, the fact that there were indeed two babies in there, or that I had known it before it was possible to know. “Yes, I’ve been telling everyone I know that I thought there were twins in there…” I answered giddily.

Before our shock had a chance to wear off, we were guided out to the waiting room with pictures of our two little 10 week babies, they looked like gummy bears, but they couldn’t have been more beautiful to us. I have no idea what my husband was thinking, but all I could think was, “I can’t believe we are having twins!” It was one of the most surreal moments of my life. Little did I know, that the whole journey into twin parenthood would be equally unbelievable, and though difficult, equally joyful.

The first few months of my pregnancy were similar to any other pregnancy, just more so. I was more nauseated, more exhausted, and infinitely more worried. I found out our twins were identical, we were able to tell because they shared a placenta. Along with the excitement I felt, knowing that our twins were a miracle that few people get to experience, came unique concerns. The specter of TTTS loomed large over my whole pregnancy. The high risk pregnancy doctor that I saw tried to ease my mind, telling me our twins had a 75% chance of survival, good odds to any other ears, terrifying odds to my hormonal mind. Then there was the fact that I am less than five feet tall. Where would two whole babies fit? How could I possibly keep them in as long as they needed to stay in?

It turns out, with the help of 18 weeks of bed rest (which is not an easy feat for anyone, but was particularly difficult for me, with my three other children to care for) I was able to keep them cooking for 36 weeks and 1 day. It wasn’t easy by any means, I was in the hospital twice to have my preterm labor stopped, but it was worth it.

I spent these long weeks of bed rest researching. I didn’t have a c-section with any of my three other children, and I didn’t want one if I didn’t have to have one with these babies. The options for giving birth to twins and the ways that things can go wrong were many more than with a singleton. I could have a c-section. I could vaginally birth two vertex babies. I could have a c-section/vaginal combination birth (no thank you!). I could deliver baby A vertex and baby B breech naturally. I could have my doctor turn baby b if he was breech. I could have a breech extraction. I could deliver in an OR, or a birthing room, with or without an epidural.

After much thought, and research on my part, I was satisfied that a vaginal birth would be just as safe as a c-section, even if baby B was breech. My doctor and I agreed that if baby B was breech she would try to turn him, and perform a breech extraction if he wouldn’t turn. We also decided that because of the possibility of a breech extraction, and my history of fast labors, I would have an epidural as soon as I was in active labor.

At 36 weeks I went in for my now bi-weekly appointment with my doctor. After all the normal measurements and a quick peek with the ultrasound machine, my doc asked me “What happened to all your contractions?”
“Uh, I don’t know…” I answered, I didn’t tell her that I had been staying on bed rest even though she had released me from it two weeks before. I wanted my babies to cook for as long as possible, and I was sure the minute I got out of bed, they’d fall right out of me.
“Well, 36 weeks is term for twins. I don’t want to have to induce you next week. Start walking as much as you can, have intercourse, use evening primrose oil internally if you like, and lets see if we can’t get this going.”
Excited, I did just that.

I spent the next day cleaning, like a lady on a mission. I had been on bed rest for almost five months, there was a lot of work to be done. Then I went shopping, laughing at all the stares I got on my first voyage out in public in ages. When my husband got home from work that night, we had very uncomfortable sex, and then I inserted two evening primrose oil capsules.

I had been contracting all day, but after the intercourse especially they became stronger. I spent hours pacing around the house, getting in and out of the bathtub, and in and out of bed. Finally at 2 am I called the hospital. I told the nurse on the phone my symptoms, and a brief synopsis of my pregnancy, and she told me to come on in. Excited, I woke my husband up, and had him call my parents to come watch our three other children.

When we got to the hospital it was around 3 am. They hooked me up to the monitors for about 20 minutes, checked my cervix, found I was a 3 and sent me walking about the halls. 20 minutes later they checked my cervix again, I had progressed to a loose 4! Music to my ears.


Immediately the nurse ordered my epidural, even though I really wasn’t feeling any pain. My epidural was inserted without any trouble, and I waited to get numb. As I waited, the nurse hooked me up to a pitocin drip. This was to counteract the slowing of labor that can occur after an epidural is placed. After a while, one of my legs was completely numb, but the other wasn't, and I could still feel everything else. I debated about getting a second epidural, thinking "I've given birth naturally before and it was fine..." The thought of a breech extraction with no epidural, howerver was enough to make my mind up. I asked for another. The second epidural worked like a charm.

A few moments after my second epidural was inserted, my blood pressure dropped, and my heart started racing. The nurse started to give me a shot of epinephrine, but then the anesthesiologist pointed out that my heart rate was too fast. The nurse and the anesthesiologist discussed it, while my husband I listened with concern. After a while the anesthesiologist decided it was ok to leave, and the nurse stayed to watch me. She turned off my pitocin drip, which had been set to “1”, just in case that was what was causing my heart to act strange. This seemed to help for a while.

An hour or so later, I didn't seem to be progressing any more, so they took a look with an ultrasound. Both babies were head down, which was supposed to be good news, but they were locked side by side, with neither able to descend so my doctor mentioned that she may have to do a c-section after all. She had me change sides to try and encourage them to wiggle around a bit and let one drop further down.

About an hour and a half after my epidural, I started to feel like I needed to push. Either the relaxation from the epidural or the switching of sides had let one baby drop down. I told the nurse, and she called the doctor. I just lay there calmly waiting, I could feel the urge to push, but not like I did in my natural labors.

As the room filled up with NICU nurses (they observe every birth 36 weeks and under) and equipment for after the birth, I just let my uterus do the work. A few minutes later my doctor arrived, took a look and said "Wow, here he is!" My baby A, Archer Gabriel, was crowning! She got herself situated, and I pushed once to deliver his head, and once to deliver his shoulders. She lay him on my chest, I reached down and held him. He looked so tiny!

The first thing I thought was "He looks like a 20 weeker!" Of course that wasn't true, but I was shocked at how tiny he was. I held him for a few minutes while my husband cut his cord. Then they whisked him away to get a better look at him. They weighed him, he was 5 lbs even.

Meanwhile, my doctor was feeling for baby B's presentation. "Uh oh" she said, looking at the nurse, "I feel small parts” Immediatly the charge nurse was called in, and another nurse started doing an ultrasound, Baby B had turned, and was presenting with a hand and a foot!

The charge nurse came in and told my doctor they had to get an OR ready for a c-section before she could do anything else. The nurse told my husband to go be with Baby A. I laid there taking it all in, staying as calm as I could. My doctor had her whole arm up in me, and I didn't feel a thing, I thought, thanking God for my epidural. My doctor tried to manually turn baby B, but it would not happen. Meanwhile they tried to locate his heartbeat on the ultrasound machine, but they couldn't find it. It was too surreal to be really scary. I lay there thinking “is my baby ok” in a strangely detached fashion. I wasn’t as frightened or concerned as one would think I would be in such circumstances. No one bothered to tell me that they couldn’t find his heartbeat because the doctors hand was blocking it, it was only later that I found out that was why.

About 25 minutes later, a nurse ran in and said "Ok!" The C-section room was ready. I had been laying there the whole time, just waiting to be told what would happen. I wasn't scared or in pain, I was more in shock. Suddenly my doctor said "PUSH! Push, push, push! " and I pushed, while she pulled, and I pushed again, and again four times total, and out came baby "B" Desmond Jack, feet first. They lay him on my chest and I asked "Is he ok?' and he was. He was a tiny little man, 5 lbs 4 oz, but he was perfect. I held him while they cut the cord, and then I delivered the placenta as they checked him over.

At this point, I had no babies in my arms, and I started shaking uncontrollably. My husband asked one of the nurses about it, and without looking she said, "She's fine..." I assumed I was fine, since I had similar shaking spells after giving birth before. A minute or so later, I looked at my hands and they were bright blue. I screamed! It was the only time during the whole event that I actually felt fear...I thought I was bleeding to death or something. I thought about my impending death. I didn’t want to die, but I felt a strange sense of peace about it, in hindsight I think I was just in shock and was a little emotionally numb.

No one could figure out what was wrong. They took my temperature once and it was normal, 5 minutes later it was 103. I underwent tests for a blood clot in my lung, sepsis, and everything else they could think of, but aside from turning blue and my blood pressure dropping while my heart raced again, I seemed fine. It felt surreal, and I was told later that I probably had gone into shock, meanwhile...

Both babies looked healthy, and they brought them both to me, I held them and compared them and tried to nurse them. They refused to nurse. I thought that was ok, I just stared at them and snapped a picture of them together. We had a few moments of bliss, before they told me that they had low blood sugar and asked if they could give them a bottle. I asked them to try a cup instead, thinking I didn’t want them to have nipple confusion. They tried to cup feed them. Then the NICU nurses noticed that they were grunting an awful lot, so they decided to take them down to the NICU. My heart sank.

I was wheeled around the hospital for several different tests. After a few hours I was wheeled into the NICU. I couldn’t hold back my tears when I stroked one of my baby’s back and the nurse told me “it’s better not to touch them, if you must, lay your hand still on their diaper.”

My babies were beautiful, perfectly formed, and in respiratory distress. My heart felt like it would split in two. The guilt I felt was overwhelming, the sense of failure, the loss of all the first moments I expected to have with my babies were drowning me and I didn’t know how I would bare it.

The NICU experience is a whole other novel, I have never been so sad in my life. I could go on and on, but instead I'll just share that they were healthy, just early, and they came home 9 days later.

I love to share my story, because I want moms to know that mono/di twins can safely be born vaginally, and that second twins can successfully be born breech.
They were born 3-12-09, at 10:53 and 11:22 am, and it was a great birth. Exciting and scary at parts, but virtually painless, and the outcome was wonderful.

The hardest part for me is dealing with the NICU and guilt over them not being quite ready to be born, but I'm slowly learning to get past those feelings and feel at peace with their first two weeks outside the womb. Although I was really sad that they ended up in the NICU, over all I have to be happy about the way things turned out. It is what it is. It wasn't perfect, but it wasa good birth none the less. I still to this day am overcome occasionally with a sense of amazement and unreality. I can't believe I am lucky enough to have twins!

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The Birth of Colin Kennethby: http://members.baby-gaga.com/member11189

It had been the longest 41 1/2 weeks in the history of the universe, or at least that's how it felt as I sat in the cab at 5am on the way to the hospital, looking out the window as the street lights turned the heavily falling snow into a dimly glowing blur. It looked surreal, fitting for the journey I was making. For most of my life I'd never expected to have children, hadn't even wanted children. And here I was, sleepily making my way to the hospital, a peculiar combination of excited and terrified.

We arrived, and found our way to the labor and delivery wing. We dispensed with the preliminaries in short order; we'd already preregistered the day before.

I was brought to the delivery room; it was fairly nice as far as I can figure, I haven't spent much time scouting hospital maternity wings. There was a single bed in the middle of the room, and I very nearly needed help climbing up as it was very tall, and I am not very tall. This would, of course, lead to some blush inducing moments as the day went on. There was a couch, just large enough for an average sized adult human male to sleep on, if he wished to contort his body or leave a limb or three hanging over the side. My attention was drawn mainly to the large, black, flat screen television that had been wheeled into the room and was currently waiting quietly in the corner for me to bring it to artificially lit, pixelated life.

I was given a gown, a cross hatched design of pale turquoise -- flattering to no one -- and told to change, as the doctor would be arriving shortly to start the induction process. I was given some privacy to change, the last I'd receive for many hours, and did my best to make myself comfortable, as well I could with backside bared to the only moderately warm room.

The doctor arrived, and I arranged myself as modestly as I could upon the bed while he eschewed the traditional dinner and candy and went straight for the goods; I was checked for dilation. To my great chagrin, I was still at zero centimeters. The doctor told me that he was reasonably certain that I'd end up needing a c-section, but he was going to give the induction a chance to work, first. I hoped, oh I hoped, that I wouldn't need a c-section. That was, I have to say, near the top of my list of fears -- even worse than the fear of pushing a human being out of me.

The induction began in what I am told is routine fashion; some gel to ripen my cervix, and a crochet hook in a place I'd never expected a crochet hook to go. This seemed to be to no avail, initially, and my stomach knotted as I was told that I'd be sent home to wait until there was some progress. The prospect of heading home was nearly unbearable at that point, I'd already waited my body to do something -- anything -- for nine days beyond my due date, and I'd nearly reached my limit at its mulishness.

And then, I felt a gush down my legs that left my gown clinging in spots. My husband dodged out into the hallway to fetch the nurse, to confirm that yes, this was my bag rupturing. Joyously, I was informed that I'd now be staying at the hospital -- I actually quite dislike hospitals, but at that moment it was far preferable to a trip back home in a near blizzard -- and I settled in to await the arrival of my son.

Well, the day passed. Slowly. Spent mainly on my back, watching dvds, trying to nap, gushing more liquid than it seemed humanly possible for my body to contain, hobbling to the bathroom across the hall at a rate of what must have surely been ninety-seven times per hour. I was given a second dose of the ripening agent, the doctor no more making an attempt to be courtly than the first time, and it should not surprise to find that I was, still, at zero centimeters.

The snow continued to rage down as the hours ticked away, and my husband did not relish a trip back out into it for the evening. There was no place for him to sleep, honestly, in the labor room -- a child perhaps, a small one at that, may have fit -- but as it seemed that my body was determined to be obstinate, I was moved to another room for the night so that I could attempt some sleep that was, if not comfortable, at least somewhere in the relative neighborhood thereof. It was a day surgery room, and being night, it was expectedly empty, so my husband had the opportunity to spend the night, getting possibly even less sleep than I got -- which is fairly impressive as I'd finally started to experience some mild contractions around three in the morning.

After a few hours of patched together slumber, the doctor arrived. I was certain this time he'd get his act together and at least offer me a hastily plucked flower from a plant in the lobby, but, no. Just more latex gloves and invasion of what was once my personal space. Can you guess what I'm about to reveal? Indeed, close on twenty four hours and still at zero centimeters. My son, clearly, was enjoying his free room and board too much and was going to fight to the bitter end. An administering of oxytocin, and we were off to the races. If you've ever been artificially induced, you'll understand the situation I quickly found myself in. Contractions that had seemed painful just scant moments before seemed now wistfully pleasant and I found myself missing them, and wondering how much worse things were going to get before they were over. So, never one to be shy, I asked the nurse, and she replied "If you can still talk, it's going to get a lot worse." This remark played a major role in my subsequent decision to have an epidural, a decision I did not regret -- even though it ended up to be the most painful part of the entire experience.

Ah, let me recount for you what occurred when the anesthetist arrived. She was middle aged, I'd guess about 50, but I'm notoriously bad at guessing such things, so I don't presume to think I'm actually correct on that score. She had long, dark hair, done up in a bun, and a pinched face that held a sour frown as she entered, step heavy, complaining about her busy day. Normally, I'd feel somewhat bad about inconveniencing this woman with my pain as I clearly was, but just at that moment, I didn't really give a load of dingo's kidneys even if her house was on fire. As gently as I suspect it was possible for this woman to manage, she bent me over so she could set to, and I struggled as best I could to maintain the position as increasingly painful and frequent contractions grabbed me from the inside and tried their best to turn me inside out. Well, as they say, I guess my best wasn't good enough, as she repeatedly informed me, in increasing levels of vexation, as she rooted around, for many, many minutes, with what was surely a Ford Explorer or something of similar physical size, inside my spine. I suspect if my husband had not been so busy focusing his energy on soothing my tears and helping me stay calm and still, he would have had a few choice words for the woman. Mercifully, she eventually managed to get it in, and hurriedly left the room -- which I swear brightened considerably the moment she passed through the opening, as though her presence had literally darkened not only the mood but the air -- followed, to our amusement, by the nurse who had her own choice words for the anesthetist.

The epidural kicked in quickly, and the transition seemed nearly blissful. I began beaming, as I snuggled back against the pillow, my body relaxed and growing heavy with the absence of tension. Shortly, though, I grew cold. Very cold. My body shivered involuntarily, and a wave of intense nausea swept over me. I could not, unfortunately, control my desire to vomit. My blood pressure had dropped, significantly it seemed, to worrisome levels. The nurse gave me a mask, for oxygen, and a shot of ephedrine, which didn't bring my pressure up as quickly as it should have. They administered a second shot, and started discussing having my husband leave the room, which did nothing to help either of us relax and not be frightened. The second shot seemed to work better and my blood pressure stabilized after a time, my husband's knuckles faded from white to his normal pinky-white, and I relaxed again. The contractions continued to escalate in intensity, and the epidural slowly faded in strength, until I was considering asking for a boost.

The doctor came back at just after noon, to see if there had been any progression. And, there was. One centimeter. It had been twenty eight hours since the start of the induction, twenty eight hours since my water had broken, and all I had to show for it was one centimeter of dilation. I was, I think understandably, deflated and felt as though my body was failing me. It had come to the worst of my fears; the doctor called the OR and informed me that in fifteen minutes someone would come to wheel me away. He left, and the nurse prepared me, and did her best to soothe me, telling me that she'd too had a c-section and that she actually preferred it to her vaginal birth. I've no way to know if she was telling the truth, or just humoring me -- it didn't really matter to me either way; it was my body being cut open shortly, not hers. Still, I appreciated the effort. My husband was taken away to change into operating room appropriate attire -- only slightly more attractive than the patient's regalia -- and I looked forward to seeing him again shortly.

Then, after what paradoxically seemed a second and an hour, it was showtime. I was in the operating room, greeted by a gaggle of men and women in the same chic operating wear. The doctor gave me a rundown of what would be happening, and commenced with the procedure. About five minutes into the operation, my husband was escorted in, and he sat at my side, holding my hand. He told me, later, that as he walked through the door he saw the incision, and I think he nearly vomited, himself. I was told I might feel some tugging, but I was really not prepared for what I felt. It was not quite pain, but close, and I was acutely aware of things being pulled and shifted around, and it was, I can say with honesty, the strangest thing I've ever experienced in my life.

And then, I heard it. The first cry from my newborn son. It was among the most beautiful things I've heard thus far in my life. They held him up, and I gazed up at his tiny little body, his eyes closed tight, fists balled, flailing, crying for the only home he'd ever known. He looked so raw, his feet were purple and chapped from lack of amniotic fluid, but as any mother will tell you, still indescribably perfect. Then, gone from my sight, to be cleaned, measured, weighed. I looked at my husband and I saw my own awe mirrored in his eyes. The surgeons continued on, but I barely noticed, still entranced by the sight I'd just had, a life I'd created and nurtured with my own body, there before my eyes. It seemed so surreal, all I'd gone through over the pregnancy, culminated in this single act. It was over; I'd survived, we'd all survived, grown stronger and closer through our journey to this one moment.

My son, clean and wrapped, placed in my husband's waiting arms. I must now admit, the main objection I had had to a c-section was that I wanted to be the first to hold my son in my arms. I'd done the work, I wanted that reward. I wanted to be selfish, have that moment to myself, but the look, the look of pure radiant joy that was filmy with unshed tears I saw in his eyes the moment he held our son, made me realize it didn't matter. I'll carry that look with me always. We gazed at him, Colin Kenneth, our little piece of ourselves, all of nineteen inches and eight pounds, nearly hairless, eyes the dark blue of a twilight sky. He had a face shaped face, peeking out from his swaddling, and I couldn't tear my gaze away. It had been the longest 41 1/2 weeks in the history of the universe, twenty nine hours of failed labor, and at 1:02pm on January 16th, 2007, it was also the best.
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The Birth of Corbin Michealby: http://members.baby-gaga.com/member370925

How it Began
When I woke up the morning of the 25th, I did not feel different. No contractions and no sign of Corbin coming any time soon. I was 5 days “overdue” and I wasn’t uncomfortable in the least! I had an appointment at the radiology building to have an ultrasound to measure amniotic fluid. While we were there they estimated Corbin to be 9 lbs 4 oz. “Wow”, I thought, “that’s a good sized baby!” I had no idea! After that we went to the birth center to do a NST to make sure Corbin was ok. He looked good so we went ahead for our appointment.

One of my midwives checked me and told me I was about 5 cm! I was in awe! How could I be that open and not in labor? My midwife offered to break my water since it seemed all my body needed was a kick-start. I was hesitant but anxious to meet my baby. My mom was pressuring me to do it since she could only stay for 2 weeks and she wanted to see the baby as long as possible. So I agreed.

We went home to get everything together. We had a bag with a change of clothes for Brandon and me, the diaper bag and a bag of snack food (which was not touched). We got back to the birth center at about 1:30 pm to break my water. Around 2:00 pm another one of the midwives broke my water and sent me out to walk. It only took until about 2:30 pm for me to be in full blown labor!

Early Labor
I labored alone in the shower for the first part of my labor. I don’t remember what those contractions felt like. I kept having the urge to pee and when I tried to it would bring on a contraction. I was hanging on the top of the shower and swaying back in forth with the water as hot as I could get it on my back. I was coping well, but I was restless with the back labor.

I started to get a bit anxious for my husband, but I didn’t want to appear weak so I waited until a contraction ended before I opened the door and said, “Brandon? Can you come here?” It was about 3:15 pm at that point. I got out of the shower and started walking around, leaning over the bed, stomping my feet, swaying, and rocking. I was just trying to get through each contraction. I started to get very anxious and scared because I felt like I couldn’t get on top of them. Brandon tried counter pressure with a hot rice sock, but it was too much for me.

My labor was flying by and I stopped getting any breaks between the contractions. It really felt like one 1.5 hour contraction. It was very intense and I was vocalizing a lot. I asked to get in the tub at this point but it hadn’t been sanitized from the last birth yet! That was so incredibly stressful! I finally got in the tub on my hands and knees at about 3:45 pm.

Brandon was great the whole time! He was pouring water over my back and encouraging me. I remember yelling at him because he was taking too long to refill the bucket between pouring them over me. He then started warning me when the water was about to run out and he refilled it fast. I was writhing and moaning/screaming with every contraction. I was looking for something to bite down on. I started biting his arm but went to a bath pillow when I realized that I could really hurt him.

Transition
Around 4:15 pm I was to my breaking point. I was crying between contractions because I just did not want to do this anymore. I was begging for drugs at this point, I started begging for something to take the edge off.

I was moaning “poison, poison, poison” between contractions. That was our codeword for when I was giving up and wanted drugs. Of course it didn’t really matter since they don’t offer drugs at the birth center but it made me feel better. Once I started saying that he asked the nurse if there was anything they could do for me. “No, there’s nothing that would help in time anyway. Why don’t we do a vaginal exam to see how far along you are?” I agreed.

The midwife checked me around 4:30 pm and told me I was 9.5 cm! I was still on my hands and knees. As the midwife was walking out of the room I yelled “I’m pushing!”

Pushing
I HATED pushing. I did not like the sensation of my body pushing without my consent! I was still not getting breaks between contractions and now I was having pressure, burning, back labor and contractions with no break!

I pushed on my hands and knees until around 5:30 pm. The nurse had been suggesting that I move to the toilet to push, but I politely ignored her. Since it had been an hour though, I agreed to turn over into a reclined/semi sitting position. I did not want to move, but I did anyway. Brandon started rubbing my shoulders and my chest at this point and the nurse was pouring water on my belly. I never thought of myself as that woman who screams in labor. But let me tell you, during pushing I was very loud. I couldn’t control it! I tried so hard not to push because it hurt so much. But I remember the nurse saying that I had some good “separation” happening so I felt a little more motivated to push.

At some point the nurse said that I could try to feel his head if I wanted to. So I put my hand down there and there he was. About an inch or two inside was this squishy little person, which gave me hope that the end was near. A little while later the nurse said that he had black hair! I was excited now that she could even see hair! I started pushing even harder at that point. I tried to get 3 pushes in each contraction. The first one I never felt him move much, the second I felt him moving a little and the third was when I always felt the most progress. It hurt so bad though that I often stopped before the contraction was over and just screamed through the rest.

Birth
The nurse asked if I wanted someone to take pictures of the birth. I kept saying “no” over and over. I regret that so much. I really wish I had pictures. During one contraction the midwife started telling me to push through the pain and push through the ring of fire. But, I was in so much pain that I didn’t even know what she was talking about! When his head finally came out, I didn’t even notice! The nurse told me to push for the shoulders and I was confused! I had to ask if his head was really out. Everyone laughed and said yes.

The midwife was freaking out a little bit though and told me to push harder so I did. I heard her tell the nurse that there was a Nuchal situation (when the baby is born with its hand up by its face). That explained the back labor! Sometimes with Nuchal arms, the shoulders get stuck (explaining why the midwife was in such a hurry to get his shoulders out), but I was able to push the shoulders out with no problem. As he moved down though, I could feel him moving my pelvic bones and my hips apart. That was awful!

When he was halfway out I instinctively reached down, grabbed him and pulled/pushed him the rest of the way out. Brandon said I pushed the midwife’s hands away to grab him but I don’t remember doing that. I could hear Brandon laughing with joy and saying “Baby!” over and over again. I pulled Corbin onto my chest and started rubbing him and talking to him. He didn’t cry right away, it was a few minutes before he did. I remember being a little worried about it, but he was ok. His little face was so bruised and swollen. He had two black eyes, his whole head was a bruise and his nose was crooked. Since he came out with his hand by his head, the left side of his face was more swollen than the other side so it was hard for him to latch for a while. He was just pitiful looking.

Those First Few Hours
Later we put a few pieces of gauze soaked in arnica on his head under a hat. Arnica is like homeopathic aspirin. You can buy it in a pill, a gel or a powder. This was powder dissolved in some water that we used. The bruising on his head went away in a few hours!

To be honest, I was more relieved that labor was over than I was excited to have a baby. I felt guilty about that at first because the pain of having him affected my initial bonding with him. I learned that that was a normal response though and we bonded quickly in the next few hours. He had a very short cord so we only left him attached for a little while. Brandon cut the cord and took him so I could concentrate on delivering the placenta. I stayed in the tub to deliver it, and I’m glad I did!

When my midwife told me to give a little push to get it out, there was an explosion of blood! It sprayed all over the tub like an 80’s slasher movie (without the bad music)! My midwife said, “Damn that was…interesting.” After that though, the placenta came out with no problem. The midwife took it into the other room and came back to rinse the blood off of me and help me out.
When I went to get up I almost passed out because I literally couldn't breathe. They put smelling salts under my nose and that perked me up enough to get to the bed. Later they figured out that I had anemia due to blood loss, which was causing tachycardia when I stood. I remember the nurse saying, "Good, your heart rate is getting below 180." The tachycardia issues lasted a few days.
When they checked me they said I had 2 very superficial tears on either side of my labia. She wanted to go ahead and stitch me to avoid the possibility of them healing together so I got 2 stitches! She also decided that I was passing way too many blood clots so she manually got the rest of them out. Can we say “ow”? I was yelling and squeezing the nurse’s hand so hard!

I tried to take a nap for a few hours, but ultimately I just laid in the dark. I was thinking about what had just happened, my life as a mother, etc. When it became clear that I couldn’t sleep, I tried to take a shower. It didn’t work though due to the tachycardia. It made it to where I couldn’t breathe, so I just shampooed my hair once before the nurse had to help me back to bed.

Breastfeeding and Beyond
For a while we had some issues with his latch. This was due both to his severe bruising and because my nipples were flat. The nurse got us a nipple shield, which helped immensely. We only needed it for about 12 hours though! He has been addicted to the boob ever since.

About 9 hours after he was born, we were on our way home. By that time I had already decided that I still want 4 or 5 more kids and I had bonded with Corbin. I love him so much! I had a little PTSD because of the pain, but I realize now that there were many factors that led to the extreme pain: AROM, big baby, precipitous birth, nuchal hand, back labor, etc. So now, about8 months later, I’ve come to terms with it. My drug-free water birth was so empowering, I feel like I can do anything now! I will definitely do it again and again. I can’t believe that I birthed a 10 lb 6.5 oz baby with a nuchal arm and only got 2 stitches that I could have done without!
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The Birth of Ella Graceby: http://members.baby-gaga.com/member276232

It was the third year in my painstaking journey to become a mother. I was 6 days overdue with my baby, thinking back on the long road that I had traveled to get there.

My husband and I lost our first baby, a boy whom we named Caden, at 17 weeks gestation on October 13th, 2005. Oddly enough, just two days beforethe national Pregnancy/Infant Loss Awarenessday.

I was awoken very early in the morning, in an indescribable amount of pain, what seemed to be my water broken and laboring. As it turns out that I had a Premature Rupture of Membranes, andmy first babyhad no chance of survival at that point. Months later, we became pregnant again. This timeI made it to 12 weeks gestation andwithout any signal of anything being wrong. This pregnancy turned out to be Ectopic. Having carried the baby for that long, my left fallopian tube had endured enough damage to require a partial removal. Fast forward to several more months later and despite our desperate desire to have a child, we still are unable to get pregnant. I had only one functioning fallopian tube and two totally different types of losses, of which no one had any kind of explanation. Just as my life had come to expect, another 7 months flew by before my eyes and I was able tobecame pregnant again. This time, I was able to carry the baby to ten weeks gestation before miscarrying. Again, no explanation as to why these things were happening. You can imagine the sense of doom that I felt in knowing that I had one second trimester loss, an ectopic pregnancy, and then also afirst trimester miscarriage. These three completely differentscenarios gave my husband, the doctors and me basically nothing to tryand link together to come up with a way to "fix"what was happening, when I was seemingly "broken."

We feared the worst while hoping for the best, looking towards the future and praying that we would some day finally be able to have another baby.

After hitting rock bottom,basically giving up all hope, and with only one functioning fallopian tube, the seemingly impossible feat had become a reality. I was pregnant once again, and in "only" another ten months later. This was to be my "miracle" child, as I dubbed her from the beginning. To me, it would be nothing short of that to actually carry a baby to term.

...So there I stood, in February of 2008, in the labor and delivery hall of the hospital awaiting my induction. Evenhaving made itthis far into my pregnancy, my fears were still taking over my every thought. Until I held a happy and healthy baby in my arms, my mind would not rest. Throughout these losses I had been told that everything that happened to me was nothing more than a "fluke" or just down right bad luck, but my luck was about to change!

Bags packed and heading to my room, I awaited my scheduled induction, not knowing what to expect. It was nine o'clock in the evening, no dilation or effacement at all, and Iwas about to have my body thrown into something that it seemed to not be ready for.

I had decided to go without an epidural for as long as possible. I was given Pitocin and instructed to wait it out to see how I progressed before my doctors decided how else to go about the process. Within a half hour, my water broke on it's own, as if realizing that "the time" had finally come. I quickly began experiencing the worst back-labor pains I could have ever imagined. Just as everyone described labor to me, it was now horrifyingly playing out in front of my eyes.

My husband had gotten bored of waiting for progress and decided to take a nap to "rest up" for when the time came. Here I am,having full on back labor with no support from my husband and the nurses are nowhere to be found. Thoughts of my birthing classes and words like "birthpartner," "support," and "he will be a big help and maybe even massage your back for you," flashed through my mind. In allhonesty I can tell you that in those moments...hours of agony, if I would have beencapable ofwalking myhugely pained and pregnant bodyacross the room to where my husband was laying, I would have strangled him in his sleep. Alot of my time in labor was actually passed by my trying to figure out how to go about doing so, as I stood there doubled over the bed in pain.

Realizing that my thoughts were neither rational or feesible, I quickly decided that I did indeed need the epidural. I buzzed for the nurse and asked her to call the anesthesiologist. She told me that she would and that they would be right there to help me.

Two hours passed before I saw anyone. I dont need to tell anyone that has ever experienced labor thatat this point I am one of "those women" that you hear about that are on a rampage while in labor. My fears from before were nowhere to be found and were replaced by pure anger.

My husband finally awakens and I demand that he get me a nurse.Now! She comes in and I am finally able to get my epidural. Heaven, at last! It was an instant relief and I was so happy that I had opted to have it administered. In a complete turnaround from the events that had gone on hours before, Iwas able to lay there and watch my contractions picking up on the monitor, without feeling a thing.

I was advised that it was time for me to rest before the big moment came and it was time to push and finally deliver my baby.

I woke up from my nap and was checked by my nurse who said it was time to push. She explained to me that since I was a first time mom, the pushing process could be quite extensive so she wasn't going to call for the doctor until the baby was at the point of crowning.

That moment had finally come, and it seemed it would be only a short while until I was able to meet my little girl. My nurse raised my bed to what seemed to be 8 feetoff the groundandwe started the process.

Two pushes in, the nurse looks at me and says, "Oh shoot, I forgot to use the bathroom before we started. I'll be right back, but you can keep pushing if you'd like."

Keep in mind,I am about 6 feet in the air, no doctors or nurses in the roomat all and she wants me to keep pushing? I dont think so. As if I wasn't before, I wasveryheated at this point. Most of the time you don't push because you want to, but because youhaveto!

There I was, spread eagle for anyone to see as they opened the door,trying my best to "hold" my baby in, scared to death of pushing her out and off the bed, with no one there to catch her!

The longest "few minutes" of my life eventually pass and the nurse finallymakes her way back in. My husband had turned on the tv to the country music station, and she apparently notices this for the first time. Once again, the focus is not on me, the one who is supposed to be giving birth at any given moment.

She casually strikes up a conversationwith my husband about how she loves country music, that she owns horses, and that wouldn't you know, this is the very station that she plays inher barn for these horses to listen to. (Oh my goodness, are you kidding me?!) I am overcome with anger and now ready to kill someone. I just want to have my baby already and I don't have any desire to hear their mindless chatter about anything involving horsesor music!

I shamefully admit, it is at this point thatIslightlyfreak out. My arm moved with the speed and force of a well-trained fighter and I grabbed my husband's face, threatening him with the look in my eyes as much as the yelling that ensued.He finally snapped back into reality, became quiet and began to focus on the task at hand. My supportive "labor coach" is now finally with me, after only 13 hours of labor!

The nurse realizes at this point that the baby is indeed coming and that she shouldprobablyget the doctor. My doctor comes in, three more pushes, and my baby is finally born!

In that moment, I suddenly forgot all of the terrible pain that I had endured, the neglect that I had just suffered through, and even all of my three losses in the past few years.

My heart stopped, waiting for the sweet sound of my baby's cry. The moments dragged on it seemed, before it came, but there it was, the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. My baby was finally here!Happy and healthy, just as I had always dreamed.

It seemed that even with everything that we had gone through to get to this point, suddenly it had been made worth enduring all of the pain and tears. My every dream had been fulfilled. Ella Grace was finally here, proving to not only to me, but to many thatnothingis impossible and never to give up hope!
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The Birth of Erin Cait by: http://members.baby-gaga.com/member28170

The birth of my daughter, Erin, was perfect. It surpassed all of my pessimistic expectations that had come from having the worst birthing experience with my son only 16 months earlier. Let’s start with a little back story…

My LMP due date was the 30th of June, 2009. When I was told during my first ultrasound that my EDD was changing to the 7th of July, I KNEW that meant I was having her the 7th. Why, because there’s a birthday curse in my family. We have birthdates of 1/1, 4/4, 10/10 and 2/22. I hoped that going 8 whole days overdue with my son had earned me enough brownie points to save my daughter from this curse. Wishful thinking!

My mother had flown from California here to Boston on the 28th of June hoping to witness the birth (see, there’s that wishful thinking again!). My OB had squeezed me into her packed schedule on the 1st of July for a quick membrane stripping. Upon leaving that afternoon, she told me she “really got in there” and that I had to “do the hokey pokey with my husband tonight, whether he likes it or not!” Since this was the 3rd time my membranes had been stripped, and I had been sick to my stomach all week, I didn’t have high hopes nor motivation for this “hokey pokey” my doctor insisted upon. I even dismissed the cramps and spotting that resulted from the appointment as just an irritated cervix. My mom and I made plans to take my son to the New England Aquarium the next day, and she went to sleep on the living room couch. I however forced my husband to have some “get the baby out” sex, as he so lovingly called it. It was the quietest, quickest sex we’ve ever had.

At 3:33 am I woke up to back-labor contractions, 5 minutes apart. I timed them on contractionmaster.com for about 30 mins, and they stayed 3-5 mins apart so I started gathering my things. I prepped my mother on what my son needed for the next day, the address to the hospital and that I’d text her when it was close to pushing time.

We got to Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center at 5:30am, and went to the L&D triage, where they monitored my contractions and checked to see that I was actually in labor. I was only 3cms dilated, but 90% effaced, so they admitted me to my own room. I was trying to go as long as possible without any pain medication, so I paced, squatted and had my husband massage my back through each contraction. After a while, the doctor came to check on me and I was 4cms, 100% effaced and at +1 station. He wanted to pop my water, and since I was barely able to breathe or stand through my back-labor as it was, I decided to get the epidural first.

By about 11am, my mom had arrived at the hospital and I had progressed to 7cms. They said they’d come back to check on me in a few more hours. At 10 'till noon the nurse came in to check the baby’s heartbeat and asked me if I felt any pressure. I said “sort of” so she said she’s check my dilation real quick. She lifted up the blanket and her eyes got wide and she said “DON’T DO ANYTHING!” I was very confused (what was I doing besides laying there???) so I asked what she meant. “You’re crowning!” is what she replied. How I didn’t feel it, Lord knows, but I guess her passing question about pressure was well timed!

The nurse paged the doctor immediately and they got all suited up and ready. I had expressed a very important desire not to get an episiotomy (I believe I said something along the lines of “anyone comes near me with a scalpel, they’re getting it stabbed in their leg”) so they had me push lying down to slow the baby's decent. I began pushing at exactly noon. I pushed once, twice, three times, while everyone ogled over how much hair the baby had on her head (we usually make bald babies). 3 more pushes and the doctor said, “stop pushing for a second! I have to giver her a Mohawk!” Awesome. After the baby’s hair was properly styled for her entrance into the world, I was given the go ahead to push one final time (that’s number 7 if you’re keeping track). Her head was out, so they had me lean forward and birth her into my hands, and lift her onto my chest. She was perfect! She came out yelling, pink and nicely coiffed.

Erin Cait Hawker was born July 2nd, 2009 at 12:07pm, weighing 6lbs 13oz and 18 inches long, after 8.5 hours of labor, 7 minutes of pushing and 24 years of daydreaming about a little princess that would some day be my daughter. She’s better than I ever imagined!

...oh, and she beat the birthday curse!
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The Birth of Geneva MonetBY: http://members.baby-gaga.com/member522456


All my life I have always been scared of doctors, hospital, dentists, anything medical, so when I found out I was pregnant my worst fear was giving birth in a hospital. That thought is what kept me awake at night in cold sweats those first few months. However, I was also frightened by the idea of giving birth at home. A friend of mine suggested I look into birthing centers and I came across my amazing midwife and her wonderful birthing center. I was dead set on having a drug free water birth and the whole idea just thrilled me to no end. The more I learned about natural birth, the more excited I got. I was so looking forward to my beautiful miracle birth, away from the bright lights and terror of the hospital.

Well it turns out, I didn't have a beautiful miracle birth. Nothing went the way I planned.

I was diagnosed with Pregnancy Induced Hypertension at 29 weeks pregnant. One week later they discovered I had preeclampsia. I spent the last 2 months of my pregnancy on strict bed rest and in and out of the hospital. When you add up all the days I spent in the hospital prior to giving birth, I think it comes up to 3 weeks that I spent there. For 2 months I could not get up to do anything more than go to the bathroom, shower and go to doctors visits. The impact that had on me emotionally and mentally was profound. I truly believe that by the time I gave birth I was certifiably insane. No joke.

Prior to being diagnosed with preeclampsia my pregnancy had been anything but enjoyable. From the extreme morning sickness for the first 3 months to the kidney infections and monthly kidney stones, to Pregnancy Carpal Tunnel, our Rh incompatibility and getting the flu twice...it really sucked.

When I was diagnosed with preeclampsia, my dreams of a non medical water birth were out the window. I had never even considered the fact that something could go wrong and I'd have to give birth in a hospital. I could not imagine giving birth any other way than what I'd planned and I was truly devastated and completely terrified. It may sound stupid to some, but it took a lot of strength to overcome that and just surrender to the fact that I had to do whatever was required of me, to keep my child safe. At 30 weeks pregnant I had to find an OB to take control of the rest of my pregnancy.

It was nothing short of a miracle that I was able to make it to 37 weeks pregnant. My doctor wanted to induce at 36 weeks but I pushed for 37. My induction was scheduled for 6am on June 8th, 2009. Of course a few days before my induction I was admitted to the hospital because my blood pressure was out of control (again). The evening prior to induction my doctor decided to get the process going and give me cervidil overnight. My contractions formed a labor pattern very soon after they inserted it and I didn't sleep at all that night. The next morning I was 1cm dilated and then they used a foley balloon on me, which got me to 3 or 4cm. After that they started pitocin around noon (which I was dreading). By 7pm that night I'd only progressed 1cm. I was pretty frustrated and even more so when my doctor came to see me a few hours later and I was still stuck at 5cm. I was only halfway there after almost 30 hours of labor. My doctor didn't seem too worried, my blood pressure was doing good, the baby was doing good...so she let me continue to try and progress on my own.

The doctor decided to break my water to see if it would speed things up. That's when all hell broke loose. My contractions were immediately more painful and the pain radiated in my lower back. Over the next hour the back labor got worse and worse. When my midwife showed up to check on me I told her it felt like someone was taking a hacksaw to my back. She told me I should try getting into different positions to help ease the back labor. I tried that for hours and it didn't help, it seemed to only get worse. My midwife had to talk me through each contraction and help me breathe through it. I kept asking the nurse to check me because I wanted to know if I was progressing at all but she didn't until around 4am. I was 7cm and 90% effaced when she finally checked me. The nurse told me the baby's head had not come down much at all since we started induction, she was no where near where she should have been. The nurse and my midwife were pretty worried about that, especially since Geneva's cord had been wrapped around her neck in my last few ultrasounds. They thought if her cord was still around her neck, that could be keeping her from descending. So I was told to get on the birthing ball for a while to see if it would help her come down further. The pain was unreal, just indescribable. I couldn't even form words or thoughts anymore. I could have never in my wildest dreams imagined that kind of pain...and it only got worse as time went on.

The time following my water breaking is a total blur to me now. The labor pain tends to make you lose your grip on reality. I don't know how long I stayed on the ball but the next thing I remember was being back in the bed and having a catheter put in. Any other time I would have been really upset to have a catheter but I had been in so much pain and I was hooked up to like 8 different things so every time I had to pee (which was about every 15 minutes) my boyfriend or my midwife had to unhook everything and wrap the cords around me and take me to the bathroom. We did that for 2 days so the catheter was fine with me. Although the process of them inserting the catheter, along with the pain I was in, it was just absolutely awful. That was the first time I really started moaning and making noises from the pain and the nurses told me if I wanted an epidural, I needed to do it soon. I have no idea how I turned it down but I did. Everything I had hoped for about my labor had been blown away and I just wanted to keep that one thing I had planned, to give birth with no pain medication. I was really stubborn about that.

I cannot describe that ungodly pain in my back, I can't even think of anything to compare it to. At that point the whole hacksaw comparison didn't even come close to describing it. Then somehow, very suddenly, the pain tripled and I absolutely thought I was going to die. I had my eyes shut so tight I couldn't see a thing, the pain was screaming so loud in my body, I couldn't hear anything. My boyfriend said the noises I was making sounded demonic and really freaked him out. My midwife was apparently trying to help me breathe through it but my body thought this would be a good time to start vomiting. Its very hard to breathe through the pain when you are violently vomiting in your boyfriends lap. We all knew something was happening and it wasn't just contractions, it was transition. My baby finally (thank god!! even though it was unbelievably painful) decided to move down into the birth canal, and she was apparently in a hurry. It was beyond excruciating.

Once I calmed down somewhat and wasn't writhing around as much, the nurse checked me and said the most beautiful words I have ever heard in my life "10cm dilated, 100% effaced and the baby's head is starting to come down". My midwife kept telling me, "This is the end, I know the transition pain may have made you want to give up but you're at the finish line." I started crying. I was sooo overwhelmed, so exhausted and so ready for it to be over.

The nurse called for the doctor to come and she arrived within about 20 minutes, I'm told. I pushed for 3 long hours, I was passing out in between contractions, I have very little memory of pushing. After 3 hours my doctor saw exactly why I'd had such bad back labor, and why it took Geneva so long to descend into the birthing canal...she was face up. That, along with my small pelvis, had made it very difficult for her to come down. I continued to push until her head came down a little further. My doctor didn't think Geneva would come under my pelvis unless she turned her. So once her head got a little farther down she stuck forceps inside me and manually turned her into a better position. I was not aware of what was going on. Apparently they told me what they were doing, but I was not coherent enough to understand. All I know is that it hurt felt like my insides were being ripped apart and my body was being torn in half. But it worked. The next thing I remember was hearing my daughter cry and seeing the doctor holding her. She was covered in blood, more blood than I've ever seen on any of the birthing shows I watched during my pregnancy. But as soon as I saw my daughter, my pain was gone and my mind immediately snapped back into reality. I cried my eyes out, I could not get a grip on myself, I cried so hard my whole body was shaking. I just remember saying "My baby...my baby" over and over. They took her away for a minute and wiped her off then laid her on my bare chest. I got to hold her against me for a few minutes, until my placenta was delivered, then they took her from me and brought her to the NICU to check her over and do tests on her.

After the doctor was done sewing me up (I had a 2nd degree perineal tear, several bad tears in my labia and internal tearing where the forceps ripped me. I was a mess.) I was just laying on the bed, relieved that it was over but worried sick about my baby...when I started convulsing. My blood pressure had become so high while I was pushing and my body was in shock from 42 hours of labor, I randomly started having convulsions. It was the weirdest thing. I was fully awake, I was breathing, but I had no control of my body. It scared me to death. My boyfriend was the first to notice and he jumped up and tried to roll me on my side. The nurse put an oxygen mask on me, and a minute later the convulsing stopped. My blood pressure was very high but I was still hooked up to blood pressure meds and after a few minutes it started to go down, thank god. I was so glad to hear that because they had been talking about giving me magnesium sulfate. I didn't want to go through that again, that stuff is horrible.

I was brought into ICU and they ran about a million tests on me. I was also on watch because the doctors thought I may be hemorrhaging but eventually the bleeding did stop. I cried pretty much the whole time. I had just been through a traumatic experience and I just wanted my boyfriend, but they wouldn't let him come with me. I was also really worried about my baby and really upset to be away from her. They didn't even give me any time to just rest. There was always someone doing something to me. About 3 hours later they felt confident that I was ok and they brought me into a recovery room. After I'd been in there a couple hours they finally brought my baby to me! They said, at that time, nothing seemed to be wrong with her. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I felt like my heart grew a hundred times bigger as I held her. I just stared at her and talked to her and cried. It really was the most beautiful moment of my life. I have never been that happy before and I don't think I ever will be. She was just magical.

In that moment everything I had gone through was so far behind me. My daughter was in my arms, she was healthy, beautiful and happy.

I guess looking back now I regret having such a set birth plan. Its always good to have an idea of what you want during labor but our babies and our bodies don't always care what we want. When I found out I would be giving birth in a hospital I felt like such a failure. Like I'd let my baby down and she wasn't going to get the best possible experience, that she would be traumatized for life because of this. What I realized is that no matter how your labor and pregnancy go, it takes nothing away from you as a mother. Once your child is born, that is the most important thing and the way they came into the world really won't matter anymore. Throughout my pregnancy and labor my body, emotions, and mental state were constantly tested to the fullest but I came out of it feeling like Super Woman. At the end of the journey I got my daughter out of it and she was so worth it. I'd do it all again for her if I had to.

Geneva Monet
Born @ 12:12pm June 9th, 2009
6lbs 4oz, 18 inches long
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The Birth of Lego by: http://members.baby-gaga.com/member25337

When my doctor informed me around my 36th week of pregnancy that I was going to be getting induced, I wasn’t excited for the reasons I should have been. I wasn’t excited to meet my little boy, I wasn’t excited to count his little fingers and toes and declare him perfect. I wasn’t excited to take him home and start our lives out as the tiny little family we were; him, my husband, and I. I was just excited to be done. I was excited to be a normal person again, I was excited to not have to restrict myself to being on my feet for only 15 minutes every couple of hours. I was excited for the swelling to go down and for my ankles to actually look like my ankles and not an extension of my thigh.

I wasn’t excited to meet my little boy, because I was convinced that my little boy wouldn’t be coming home with me. No matter how many non-stress tests I went through, no matter how many ultrasounds I had, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my child wouldn’t see the outside of my womb. After all, I had been warned three years prior that I would never be able to carry a child to term, never be able to have a child of my own. I’d already defied the first odd, there was no way I was dodging that second bullet. But I was almost done. No longer would I be tormented by a child, whom I’d never know, kicking me from the inside, begging and pleading with me to become attached to him by more than just a placenta. I’d never have to feel him stretching or have his hiccups make my belly jump. I could get him out and I wouldn’t have my will tested any longer. The longer I went, the harder it was to pretend like I cared and not actually mean it. Caring about this child that I was carrying was only going to hurt me in the end. Devastatingly so.

Our house wasn’t full of baby items, not like other expectant mothers. My husband or mother couldn’t understand why I wasn’t out buying diapers and onesies in bulk. I didn’t have a crib, nor anything else for my child to sleep in and I had a travel system only because I relented and allowed my granny to buy one for us after she insisted. They couldn’t understand how after losing two babies already, I wasn’t very optimistic about this one, no matter how far along I was. My mom secretly stocked up on things and kept them at her house, while I refused my husband’s attempts at stocking up our own. The less things we had, the less painful reminders we’d later have to get rid of.

On the day I was set to be induced (Memorial Day, incidentally. That little fact did wonders for my already preconceived notions as to how things would turn out) , I went in with high expectations. We already knew I wasn’t going to be able to deliver vaginally. My doctors were under the impression that I had CPD (cephalopelvic disproportion - a fancy name for “my pelvis is too small to pass a big headed kid through”) though, it couldn’t be properly diagnosed until actual labor began. The plan was for us to “fake” an induction for insurance's sake, set me up with cervidil to soften my uterus for the night, then the next morning, we’d head down to the OR and yank that kid out quick and easy. I didn’t want any medical aides commonly used in inductions. I wasn’t okay with pitocin, I didn’t want my water broken, I wasn't comfortable with any of that. We already knew how this was going to end up - going through unnecessary pain seemed like both a waste of time and energy.

That first day, everything went according to plan. I got checked in, got my cervidil in place and sat around playing the waiting game. I had some mild contractions though out the night, but nothing a little shot of stadol didn’t cure. I got some sleep thinking in the morning, this would all be over. I’d get my c-section, I’d be done, and I could begin the process of moving on.

Early the next morning, my nurse came in with instructions to hook me up to pitocin. I pitched a fit, explained that it WASN’T happening, then threw in some tears for good measure. I was shot down quicker than an ugly guy hitting on a hot chick in a bar. They hooked me up to the devil juice, slapped a bag of Magnesium Sulfate for my high BP and told me they’d be back to check on my progress.

Funny thing about magnesium, it’s actually used to STOP labor. So, for half the day I laid there, the pitocin and the magnesium working against each other, until my pitocin was cranked up to ungodly levels and I finally got to experience the “joy” of true contractions. Luckily for me, they were all in my back.Fun fact- I believe if hell is different for everybody and if I end up there, my hell will consist of back labor. My doctor, who could only be described as the medical equivalent of an absentee father, finally decided to showed her face somewhere in the middle of my pain and dangle the epidural in front of my face, saying that if I got to 2cm, she’d call down the anesthesiologist. Because, you know, I can control my body dilating. I’d actually learned it from Buddhist monks on a routine trip to Tibet. It was quite hard to comprehend what she was saying to begin with, given the fact that I was curled up in the fetal position with my head somewhere buried into my engorged stomach. She got the point across eventually, and I somehow managed to progress an hour or so later.

After I was given that liquid gold, things started moving a lot quicker. I got to 10 cm in no time, the spawn had moved down the birth canal and the nurses could feel his head. I began thinking that maybe this was possible, maybe I COULD beat the odds, deliver both vaginally and have a healthy kid. I had some good karma stored up somewhere, maybe I was finally going to be able to cash it in.

My nurse, the angel decked out in scrubs that she was, had me start pushing and I went for an hour. Everything was looking good still and I was getting the job done against the odds. His head was moving down and they could see a head full of black hair.

But apparently, I had more bad karma stored up than I did good. Like somebody threw a light switch, out of nowhere, things went downhill and fast. I started losing an insane amount of blood, a dangerous venture for someone whose always flirted intimately with anemia like I have, to the point where everyone was kicked out of the room and nurses flocked in like I was a side show in the circus and they had free admission. Scary phrases were being thrown over my head like, “placenta abruption” and “uterine tearing”. My blood pressure spiked dramatically, my heart rate was through the roof, and my epidural kept wearing off. I could feel everything, every movement, every contraction, every kick. My nurse reached up in me to turn the baby, saying things like “sunny side up” and “fracturing pelvis” and I was too out of it to comprehend or even care anymore.

Three hours of pushing later, of the floor of my room looking like a B-rated slasher movie was filmed in it and of many blank stretches of time where I lost consciousness, my doctor finally showed up only to stand back and observe. At some point, I pulled myself out of oblivion and begged for the vacuum to be brought out. She grudgingly complied, but the effort did no good. My son would crown while I was pushing, only to be sucked back up as soon as I stopped. They flipped him numerous times, only for him to flip back into position as soon as I took a break.

This went on for another hour, in which time, I lost still more blood and consciousness, my heart rate and BP were at dangerous heights, and I had no energy left to push anymore. Around 12 am, I finally gave up. There was just no way I could keep doing it. After five hours, it was physically impossible for me to continue pushing. My doctor was adamant I wasn't trying hard enough, that I was only making half efforts at best, and that if I could go for another half hour or so, we’d have the baby out. She then explained to my nurse during the next contraction, she was going to reach up behind my baby, snap my tailbone and then they’d probably have to dislocate his shoulder to slide out the rest of the way. I didn’t comprehend any of this at the time, her instructions and plans flew over my head like a foreign language I'd never even heard. It took my husband finally losing his unearthly patience and calm for her to abandon this idea and ultimately order the blessed c-section we knew I was going to have to have in the first place.

She pushed my son back up the birthing canal, the oddest and absolute most backward action I’ve ever experienced in my entire life, and left me to lay there in the worst pain I’d ever felt while she attempted to contact another doctor to assist her in my section. At some point, I passed out, gripping the handrails of my bed and convulsing, watching my little sister cry next to me. The next thing I knew, I was being wheeled into the OR, where I promptly either passed out or fell asleep again.

The anesthesiologist woke me up to tell me my son was here and was healthy, but I couldn’t believe her. I hadn’t heard him cry. I looked over at my husband, whom I hadn't really known was sitting next to me up until that moment, and watched him get up and walk away to examine our son for himself. When he came back, I asked him one thing:“Is he okay?”My husband just nodded, but said nothing. There was tears in his eyes, and in the eight years I had known him, I’d never seen him cry. I knew, right then and there, they were lying to me. I went through hell and back, and I had nothing to show for it. Just like I’d known would happen all along.

I can’t remember for certain if they ever showed me my son in the OR, or if they did and I was asleep again. I almost remember seeing him, but I can't be a hundred percent sure I hadn't dreamed that. All I know is when I woke up, I was staring up at florescent lights as I passed underneath them and I felt empty in a way I never knew was possible. I thought I had prepared myself for this moment, but I was grossly unprepared. Sinfully, even. I had spent my entire pregnancy refusing to become attached to the child I was harboring, feigned excitement for the right people at the right moments only because it was expected of me, but in the end, I fooled myself. I cared more than I ever let on. More than I was ever aware.

They took me to the triage room, where I was met by my cheerful nurse and for the next half hour, I waited, wondering if anyone was going to come see me, if anything was going to be said, but couldn’t find the words to ask myself. I just laid there, drinking water I had been denied for close to 24 hours and hating myself, God, and everyone around me for leaving me by myself to wonder.

When my nurse disappeared, I barely noticed, being too wrapped up in my self pity and hatred for anything that breathed as I was. I did, however, notice my little sister coming around the curtain to my bed moments later, followed by a nurse carrying a bundle that I registered at the time as, “wiggling like a puppy”. With one tiny wail, the wail he had denied me in the OR, this screaming, red-faced, insanely ugly - yet indescribably gorgeous- creature was placed in my arms. All 7lbs 0.6 ounces of perfection that I created, carried and birthed against all odds. This kid that was never supposed to be in the first place, yet was somehow here and beautifully alive. I was suddenly on a high that wasn’t related to the painkillers I’d be given, and one that I’ve never quite come down from.

It’s unknown at this point if I’ll ever be able to do it again. I’ve had another two pregnancies end in early miscarriages since I've had my son and as far as we know, my reproductive organs are still the size of a prepubescent girl’s. But, I can honestly say, without a shadow of a doubt, there’s absolutely nothing I would change about my horror story.. except for maybe contacting Wes Craven and selling the rights to it.
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The Birth of Maiya Susanby: http://members.baby-gaga.com/member444796

I was due December 20th 2008. I was nervous, anxious, and felt like i had no clue what motherhood was going to be like, so i was like every other pregnant chick in the world. I took extra precautions to keep my daughter safe. I went off all my medications for my bipolar, i didn't eat sushi, i read every pregnancy and breastfeeding book out there, i cooked my meat to well done, i didn't eat lunch meat, no feta cheese, i planned on letting my baby "cook" for as long as she needed to... no trying to evict her early becausei was uncomfortableshe was waaaayyyy more important.

So when my due date came and went, i felt like everything was wrong in the world. I was so miserable, i had sank into a deep depression because i couldn't sleep due to my insomnia, i would cry every day. I had the worst heartburn, i used to wake up choking because of the reflux. I had HORRIBLE puppps that itched all day long. My daughter had cracked one of my ribs by either being to big or kicking me. I was a mess. But i still mustered up some strength to go on. My dr kept tempting my with induction. But i kept saying no, i was going to let her come out on her own.

Finally I had reached the longest my dr would let me go, 41.5 weeks. And it was time to get her out. I was so disappointed, because i knew inductions come with epidurals, and it wasn't common to be able to have one naturally. But i was hopeful. Soon all the pain i was going through would be worth it. It was new years eve. I excitedly packed up all of my stuff, the baby's stuff dreaming of what it would be like when i finally saw her, held her, and breastfed her. I brought my nursing pads, my lanolin, and nursing pillow. I couldn't wait. The worst thing on my mind was my digital camera breaking, I thought it was the end of the world. We had to buy some disposables. I was so nervous to be late when we drove to the hospital, there was an incredible nervous energy in the car... we were going to be parents!!!!!

I got to the hospital, go checked in, got sent to my room, and changed. And we started my induction with prostin, a cervical insert. They would put it in and i had to lay down for an hour then i could walk around. I got some pretty steady contractions from it. From there the next 40 hours were a blur. I know I got some more prostin, pitocin, and it was pretty freaking painful. Sleepless nights and long days. And zero progression.... none. This was NOT how this was supposed to go. Isn't it supposed to be hard pregnancy easy labor? I felt myself losing all hope and i KNEW this wasn't going to work. I wanted so bad to ask for a c section because i knew my body/baby wasn't going to cooperate. But i didn't voice my concerned, i didn't step up on that or anything while i was there. I let them do what they wanted to do. Women came and went with their babies. Women came after me and left with their babies. The hospital had the first baby of the new yeat!!! It was exciting. The nurse told me not to worry, that i wouldn't be walking out the door without a baby.

i was so tired

40 hours after i got there it was morning, the dr's and the nurses came into my room to talk to me. They told my that they couldn't let me go any further. That this would be considered a "failed induction" that an induction isn't labor, its just an attempt at labor. I braced myself for them ti tell me i was getting a c section, and was relieved. But then they dropped the bomb... that they were sending me home, and i was to return in 3 days. I cried and cried.. the nurse told me to calm down, that i needed to grow up. The did a ultrasound and it appeared my baby was slightly transverseBut they were going to send me home anyways and induce me again.

I went home heartbroken, i laid in bed and sobbed. I cried the whole three days. I didn't want to go back to that placeBut when the time came i packed my bags half heatedly .....again. And we drove to the hospital.... again. I got checked in..... again. Got hooked up...... again. And had zero hope, i knew this wasn't going to work.

My second induction was more painful then the first. After 10 hours i made it to 3cm. They broke my water and I didn't hear the Dr... but my SO heard her say "does this look like mec to you" but he didnt know what it ment. My Dr had found meconium and didn't tell me. I went for a couple more hours then i got to a point where i was in so much pain, i was ready to kill myself. I thought that logically that would be the only way to make the pain go away...and i was only at 3cm. I got some iv pain meds, then the epi. I felt like an epic failure, I couldn't do it. The induction dragged on...

20 hours later

The dr came in and checked me, i was at 9!!!!!! In less then 3 hours i would be pushing. I for the first time saw a light. I was going to meet my baby. My mom had just gotten into town and got to the hospital. My mom was going to be there to see my baby be born!!!

then all the sudden i couldn't hear her heart. It had been beating loudly for the last 30 hours, then nothing. I pressed the nurse button over and over. But they were already running into the room, they smacked my belly around and tapped her head. It started again, but was really slow. It eventually came back again. The dr came in and told me that i was going to need to have a c section, that it was best for my baby. My mom and Matt were terrified, so i kept my cool to help calm them down. But i wanted to cry. Matt was seriously scared and stressing out.

I got wheeled into the OR it was freezing in there. They got me all doped up. And after my reminding them i had an anterior placenta (stupid dr's forgot i had to get another ultrasound) I was having a major anxiety attack, and the anesthesiologist was getting upset so he told me he was going to knock me out after she came out. I heard the surgeon ask my dr "how bug did you estimate her to be" and my dr said nothing. Because he had ignored my plea's to check how big she was, and that she was so big it felt like she was tearing my skin open.

Maiya Susan was born
16 days overdue
10lbs 2oz
21.5 inches


and i got to see her for the first time. And she was a stranger, i didn't recognize her at all. It was a shock to me. I remember thinking "wow she doesn't look like i pictured"


They knocked me out and I woke up again in the recovery room. I was in a good mood because soon I was going to hold my baby. I got all fixed up and wheeled into my room. An hour passed, and another, and another.... soon it had been 5 hours from delivery and still no baby. But I was a good patient and didnt ask. I was afraid to be a pain. Finally they wheeled her in. And got to hold her for the first time.

I tried to breastfeed her and she refused to latch (I later found out they had fed her formula) I got to spend about 20 minutes with her. There was family everywhere and i didn't really get any special time. They came in and told me that they needed to check her out. And took her from me again. And hours passed and she didn't come back. They finally wheeled her in and told me that they had found an elevated white blood cell count, which could be indicative of an infection. And that she had hypoxia, there was not enough oxygen getting to her brain. They they needed to take her to the nicu for at least 48 hours. Everything was going wrong, i was in shock, and before i could say anything they wheeled her away. I was devastated, not only would she not latch but now i dont even get her for 48 hours. I wanted to tell them no, bring my baby back i want her to be with me, i dont care if she is sick. I sobbed and sobbed and couldnt imagine feeling more heartbroken. It felt like they had wheeled my heart away in that cart

I was finally able to visit her in the nicu, and it was horrible to see her like that.

It was the worst pain in the world, seeing her like that. The first time I tried to breastfed her in the NICU she ripped the IV out of her head and i was covered in blood. I couldn't say anything I just cried.

Over the next few days i pumped and pumped because she still refused to latch, well she did once but they fed her formula again without my permission and i had to keep pumping. I still didn't feel a bond with her. And felt like i had to ask for permission to hold my daughter... all the joy was sucked from finally having her. It came to be that she was going to be released with me but she was going to be on oxygen.

We brought her home, but things didn't get better. She still was not latching, i was in horrible pain and still was devastated about my experience, and I still felt no bond with her.... My labor and delivery was my worst nightmare and there was no end in sight.

I was coming to face the fact that I didn't love my baby. I liked looking at pictures of her, and sending them to my friends and family... but when i held her I felt nothing. I wanted to love her, i wanted to feel this rush of emotion that everyone else was feeling when i held her but that never happened. I felt like I failed at everything, and that it couldn't possible get any better.

Well she did finally latch after all the pumping. And through co-bathing, breastfeeding, baby-wearing, and co-sleeping i started to grow a bond with her. We got so in tune with each other and we now have an amazing bond. I couldn't ask for a batter daughter. After 6 months of nursing with a nipple shield, we can finally breastfeed without it. Everything is perfect.

But there is still a shadow in my life from the horrible experience with my delivery. It has been hard for my to grieve and let go of my experience. I think a lot about what i would do if i could do it again, and i think i have come up with some things. I would have spoken up, about EVERYTHING, i wouldn't have been a passenger in my own labor. I would have questioned more things with her nicu experience. I would have stood up and demanded a c section after my first induction. The one thing all of the things i would do had in common is control. I had zero control in any aspect of my labor. And that is something you can't let happen. So please, speak up, question everything, be a bitch. Because that can be a difference between a nightmare like mine, and a labor that just didn't go according to plan.

Also no matter how horrible your labor is, and no matter how disappointed you are. There will be a happy ending, and no matter what happened,it is worth it.
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The Birth of Paige Noelle by: http://members.baby-gaga.com/member296250
I was 27 weeks, 5 days pregnant… barely into the 3rd trimester… when at 5:30 am my water broke. The gush of fluid was huge but painless. I spent about 5 seconds in a total panic, then somehow gathered my wits about me and leaned over to tell my husband, "Get up! My water broke! We need to go!" He was dressed and across the room before I even got all the words out of my mouth. He was as panicked as I was, but later I would learn that he had no idea our little girl could still be alive. It's a miracle that he was able to function and get us to where we needed to be. I called the doctor and told him I was on the way to the hospital. I wasn't in any pain.... yet. We were in the car within five minutes; three blocks down the road, the contractions started. I told my husband, "I feel pressure, like she is trying to come out. She can't! We need to get to the hospital so they can save her!!!" This was when my husband first realized our daughter, little Paige Noelle, still had a chance at survival.

My husband drove faster, but it still wasn't fast enough for me (my contractions were getting worse and I was trying with all my might to "hold her in"). We spotted a police car up the road and I yelled to my husband to pull over next to them and get help, as I was sure I wasn't going to make it to the hospital the way he was driving. I started yelling at the police officers, "We're not going to make it!" They must have thought I was insane, for at 27 weeks I was barely showing. My husband quickly explained the situation and I called my doctor back and he said to go to the nearest hospital. The police called an ambulance and I told them that it wasn't going to be fast enough, couldn't they give us an escort or something? The officiers assured me that the fastest way to the hospital was by ambulance. Three minutes later the ambulance showed up, and three minutes after that I was in the hospital. I knew my little girl was still alive because she started kicking me as I lay on a stretcher in the ambulance. The EMT checked me and she wasn't crowning yet, even though the contractions were close together. I think that she was breech really helped in this respect. My contractions were two minutes apart, but as soon as I was wheeled into the ER they stopped.

They checked Paige's heart rate and it was strong and in the 150s. The residents and nurses went over options with us, and remarkably one of them was to keep Paige inside of me for days/weeks to allow her lungs to develop. I didn't think that was possible since practically all of my water had come out. In preparation for this, I was given a (very painful!) steroid shot. Next they did an ultrasound as part of a fetal stress test. For 30 minutes, my husband, two nurses and I all watched the video screen closely. I thought that my eyes were going to dry out I was staring so intently. Paige needed to do breathing excercises, and she wasn't - she was signaling to the doctors that she was in distress. This was when I first started to cry. The doctors immediately decided to get her out with a c-section.

Time for an emergency c-section.
Going from the ER to the OR happened so fast. I barely remember anything. The first thing I asked the anesthesiologist was if I could be put under for the c-section, even though I knew the answer. He said no because if I went to sleep, Paige would go to sleep too and they needed her to be awake. I was terrified that I would have a panic attack on the OR table, knowing that the doctors were slicing me open. The anesthesiologist assured me that even if I did I could do no harm by it. I got a spinal (a stronger epidural that numbs you from the neck down), which took FOREVER to numb me (about 25 minutes). My right leg went numb first, then my left. They kept pinching my stomach and it felt like they had little needles on their fingers. My chest started feeling heavy, but I could still feel those needle fingers! The anesthesiologist said that we had time to wait for the spinal to take effect; Paige would be okay. They slanted the OR table so that my head was down and legs up, to try to get the drug to travel down my spine faster. Finally I only felt pressure and it was time for the c-section.

My husband came in in full scrubs but I barely remember what he looked like. He placed his forehead on mine and tried to keep me from hearing what was going on. The doctors were very good about not announcing what they were doing so I never knew when the knife actually started cutting. All I know is that there was A LOT of pulling/tugging. It was like my stomach was a stiff rubber band and three different people were pulling it in every direction. I kept asking the anesthesiologist about my belly button because it felt like they had put a hook through it and stretched it to the ceiling.

I thought I was pretty aware of what was going on; I remember talking to the anesthesiologist throughout the whole thing, but my husband said that I had moments where I thought I was at home in bed. At one point I asked my husband to pass me my water bottle and the anesthesiologist said, "She can't have water now!" My husband said to wait, that I didn't realize where I was and I thought I was home in bed. Sure enough, I proceeded to next ask for my pillow and my teddy bear!

The doctors had to cut my uterus vertically (up-and-down) to get Paige out, for she was not only breech but jammed in on one side of my womb. One of the doctors leaned over the c-section screen to tell my husband that if I were to have any more children, they would have to be by c-section. Because my uterus was cut vertically, if I were to attempt a vaginal birth I would be at risk for uterine rupture. Of course, I didn’t hear the doctor say this, I only heard my husband’s response, which was, “We aren’t having any more kids!” I was like, why in the world is he yelling that out now??? Ha!

The sound of a baby crying...
The first thing I remember about Paige was hearing her cry. I was amazed because I didn't think her lungs were developed enough to do so. She sounded like a little kitty cat meowing. I had to ask the doctors if what I was hearing was really her. I will never, ever, forget that sound; for the first time since 5:29 am I was at ease. They announced that Paige was 2 lbs, 1 oz and I though, thank GOODNESS she is over 2 lbs, it gives her a better chance at survival. The anesthesiologist then immediately hit me with a full dose of morphine. The doctors gave Paige her 1 minute APGAR score (which I think was a 2) and then wrapped her up and wheeled her over for my husband and I to see. Since I was tipped head-down on the OR table I couldn't see her under all those blankets, but my husband assured me she was in there. Paige went to an APGAR score of 9 ten minutes after birth. She has an amazing strength that I already look up to.

Post-op pain.
I was anything but strong in the post-op room. I don't remember exactly how I got into the room, but soon a nurse was asking me questions to enter into a computer (Paige had been taken to the neonatal intensive care unit aka the NICU). About 3 questions in, my incision started to burn. It quickly felt like it was on fire and an incredible PAIN overwhelmed me. Apparently I screamed, loudly and constantly, for 15-20 minutes during this entire episode. The nurse ran to get the anesthesiologist but he didn't want to give me any more morphine because he had already given me a full dose, and according to him I should be asleep. After several minutes of screaming the nurse came back with some kind of muscular shot but it would take 20 minutes to kill my pain. After 10 minutes of screaming the anesthesiologist relented and put me on a morphine drip. I was given a button that, when green, I could pushand get a quick hit of morphine through the IV. I was in no condition to push it though, so my husband pushed it the first few times for me. Finally, the pain started to subside. They let me keep the morphine drip for 6 hours and yeah, I pushed it a lot.

Meeting Paige for the first time.
Once I was feeling better, they wheeled me into the NICU to see Paige. As we entered the NICU I didn't have the energy to lift my head, but I remember seeing Paige lying out in the open on a table under a heating lamp. She didn't have a respirator on which I thought was odd; surely her 27 week lungs couldn't be breathing on their own? The doctor told me that she had responded well to surfactant and she had apnea. He flicked her foot when she held her breath too long to stimulate her. I remember thinking that she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen; I went into the NICU expecting the worse and instead got to see a gorgeous, tiny little baby!

Thirteen hours after Paige's birth I was well enough toget out of bed and into a wheelchair. I could finally see my little girl for more than the few seconds I spent with her earlier. Paige was now on a ventilator and in an isolette (incubator) but doing remarkably well considering the circumstances. It was at this point that I asked my husband to get me a journal, I needed to start writing to my little girl immediately.

Paige spent exactly 8 weeks in the NICU. She came home to us on no medicines and no monitors, a perfectly healthy, 5 pound little miracle. The reason my water broke early was because of group B streptococcus. Many women have group B strep in their vagina naturally (as part of their body's flora), but it STAYS there. Mine likes to enter the uterus where it doesn't belong and infect the placenta, amniotic fluid and membranes. The doctors have no idea why this happens to me (Paige’s older brother Jonathan passed away when my water broke at 18 weeks, also due to group B strep). Luckily, although Paige's initial blood test was positive for group B strep, her subsequent spinal tap came back clean (no traces of the bacteria). I remember it was a 3 day wait for the results of the spinal tap… the longest 3 days of my life!

As for what I would have done differently? Nothing. I did everything humanly possible to give Paige the best pregnancy, and no one expected that group B strep would again cause us such grief. Before losing Jonathan, I had always said that if something bad happened to me during my pregnancy, I wouldn't try again. I was scared to be a mom and worried that I wouldn't make a good one. But after losing Jonathan, I just knew I HAD to try again. I made a promise to him that I would make him proud, that I wouldn't be afraid, and that I could do this, I could be a mom.


The doctors were amazing, they literally saved Paige's life. We visit the doctors and nurses every few months; I know it is their job to save lives, but when it is your child's life that they save, it puts what they do into a whole new perspective. Ditto with the police officers and EMT that helped get Paige to the safety of the hospital. In retrospect, my water breaking when it did, Paige's refusal to do her breathing excercises - we were very lucky that these things happened, so we could get Paige out of my infected womb and into the safety of the hospital before it was too late.
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The Birth of Ziggy by: http://members.baby-gaga.com/member479671

I went to midwives for my prenatal care from 10 weeks on with Ziggy. Everything went great, and I never had any problems beyond little discomforts here and there. The midwives were doing a study on water birth, and from very early on I planned to have a water birth and participate in the study. I planned to have a natural birth and studied everything I could find to help me accomplish my goal. Maybe it was foolish but I never imagined that things could go so differently from my expectations!

My mom was 17 days late with me, so I expected to be late too. My midwives didn't seem concerned when my due date approached with no signs of labor. After 40 weeks they stripped my membranes a total of three times. I lost my mucus plug but otherwise had no obvious signs of labor. I was dilated one or two centimeters, 75% or more effaced, and at -1 station for a few weeks.

At 41 weeks I was really starting to get tired of being pregnant! I think every woman is but I was so frustrated at the lack of progress. I tried walking, sex, evening primrose oil, spicy food, all of the usual suggestions. Nothing worked. I had an appointment with my midwives scheduled for 12 days after my due date. That morning I got a call that they scheduled an ultrasound for me at the hospital to check amniotic fluid. The week before a midwife had done one, but she was out of town so the hospital had to do this one.

At the hospital, the ultrasound was fine but they told me that Ziggy weighed 10 pounds 13 ounces. I didn't think much of it, especially since they said it could be off by up to two pounds. I'm only 5'2", so I figured it was probably way over what he actually weighed. Plus, the midwives guessed his weight by feel the week before at around 7.5 pounds, and the midwife doing the first ultrasound didn't say anything about weight.

Later at my midwife appointment, she did seem concerned about his weight. Since at this point I was over 41 weeks, she decided we would induce that day. My husband and I were so excited! A wave of relief washed over me. This wait was over, and I was already imagining holding my baby later that night. Before setting it up the midwife asked me to go across the hall to consult with an OB. The way she said it, it sounded like we just needed to chat with her about it.

The OB was, in short, horrible. I had never seen this woman before in my life, and all she knew about me and the pregnancy was basically the baby's weight. As my husband put it, she was selling us a c-section. It was really like going to a used car salesman. She wouldn't let us talk at all, and wouldn't even answer most of our questions. She even guessed by feel that the ultrasound was way off too, but that didn't matter. In the end she basically said my options were a scheduled c-section or just waiting to see if I went into labor. There was no option to induce, but she wouldn't explain why. As for labor, she tried to scare us out of it by saying her neighbor's baby had shoulder dystocia and still couldn't use his left arm. She only had that anecdote, not facts or percentages, and she even brushed over saying it was rare like she didn't want us to catch that. She would "let" me wait until 42 weeks if I wanted.

I was completely freaked out. My relief was totally gone, and I was panicking. All my plans for water birth and no pain meds and all the natural birth fantasies were destroyed instantly. Forty weeks of planning, researching, and dreaming flew out the window. My husband insisted we talk to my midwife again, at which point the OB basically blew us off. (Just like a used car salesman would if you said you were going to check prices elsewhere!) She handed us a pamphlet and showed us the door in a huff.

My midwife seemed shocked by what happened. We told her how unhappy we were and she tried to help. She clearly wanted to try inducing. She said maybe we could try breaking my water, but if I didn't dilate to 5 and 0 station in three to four hours then I would have to have a c-section. She said she would call the other midwives and see if they had any ideas or could convince the L&D doctors at the hospital to agree to this plan. She would call me the next morning.

The next morning, she called and said no dice, I was scheduled for a c-section when I would be 42 weeks and 1 day (so in three days). Until then, she suggested I try evening primrose oil. I was so shocked that everything had turned completely around in just a day. I told my mom and had to explain why I was so upset. She thought a c-section would be great since I wouldn't have to go through the pain of labor. Because major abdominal surgery is so much better!

My husband and I were so upset over the next couple of days. We tried walking so much I thought I would have a heat stroke in the park. We bought a breast pump even though I had planned not to due to money issues. I started pumping for 15 minutes every hour trying to start labor. I started having some strong, regular contractions from time to time. They didn't hurt though so I thought they were still braxton-hicks. The only good thing about this time was my husband. It was the first time since we even starting trying to conceive that he seemed like he was on the same page. He was probably more pissed off than me at that damn OB!

My aunt called the day I found out I was scheduled for a c-section. My mom had told her how upset I was so she had a plan. My hospital was in our suburb and is a branch of Cleveland Clinic. She said I should try going to the city hospital in Cleveland. It's a good hospital, and she thought we would have better luck there if we just showed up. She said they wouldn't turn me away since I was almost 42 weeks, and maybe they would induce me. At first I didn't consider it since part of the plan was to sort of lie and say I thought I was in labor. But as the day went on I got more and more desperate and finally agreed to go.

The morning I was 42 weeks, we went to the other hospital. My mom, my aunt, my husband, and I went together. I actually was having contractions at this point, I just didn't feel them so I didn't realize it. So we didn't have to lie, which I was happy about. When I told the staff what was going on they were all clueless about why the original hospital wouldn't induce. We weren't there long before they agreed to try. They did an ultrasound and said he weighed 9 pounds 5 ounces.

Around 4:30pm they started pitocin. I couldn't feel my contractions for the most part until they broke my water two hours later. I was four centimeters then. Things started to hurt but I lasted about six hours total on pitocin with no pain medication. (One thing I always thought was stupid was using a focus object during labor. But I got through my pain so well by focusing on a sprinkler head in the ceiling!) By then the contractions were incredibly painful with almost no break in between each one. When they told me I had dilated a half centimeter in two hours I decided to try the IV pain medication, Nubain. It lasted about an hour and did almost nothing.

After it wore off I asked for an epidural. When they had it in, everything from my hips down went completely numb. The doctor and nurses laid me down, put an oxygen mask on me, and were rushing around doing things. I asked the nurse if I was okay because I thought something bad happened! I guess they can mess up an epidural and it becomes a spinal? I was okay but completely numb. I remember being really disturbed by my legs. People had to move them for me but I couldn't feel it at all. I told my husband they were Barbie doll legs. The spinal wore off after an hour and they had to come back to do it again. This time they jabbed me over 20 times because apparently something is wrong with my epidural space and I might have slight scoliosis. I don't think I've ever done anything as difficult as not moving during those contractions, especially rolled over into a ball! The fear of paralyzing myself was the only thing that kept me still. When the epidural finally worked it was heaven!

After that I'm not sure how long anything took. I know I dilated fast once the epidural was working. (I was surprised because everyone says epidurals slow labor. I think I was in so much pain that I couldn't relax to dilate.) Around 4:00am I was ready to push. My family says I pushed for three or three and a half hours. I just remember the epidural had worn off, and they kept telling me I was so close so I kept thinking just one more push, just one more. It felt like ten or twenty minutes! I remember they turned on the light for the baby table and I got so excited. That was the first time I really felt like Ziggy was almost here. I still cry when I think about it. I saw the nurse tugging on Ziggy's hair to see how long it was.

Ziggy was stuck and I kept pushing but it was too hard. No one would tell me if I was getting anywhere but I felt like I wasn't. Finally my head was clear enough for a second to say I wanted to get on my hands and knees. The nurse helped me but when I finally got in position, a doctor came in and made me turn over onto my back for an exam. Then she told me to push again. I really think that's where everything turned around. All of a sudden the pain was unbearable. I told them it felt like my ass was breaking in half! I started losing it pretty quickly. I couldn't push anymore but every contraction forced me to push. It felt like my pelvis was trying to break, and I wanted it to but it wouldn't.

The doctor finally said they wanted me to go to the OR to deliver, I guess in case something went wrong. She wouldn't use forceps or the vacuum for some reason. I agreed but by then I was begging for a c-section. I couldn't get the words out though. While they were wheeling me down the hall, I started howling. I couldn't think, couldn't talk, nothing. When we got to the OR, the nurses kept telling me to move my legs, move to the table, and I couldn't. I remember screaming "NO!" at them. The pain was so incredible, I thought something horrible was happening and for some reason they didn't see it. My husband said later he thinks a doctor yelled at the nurses for not giving me pain medication before moving me.

I was begging them to "just take it out, just get it out," and I was so angry they kept telling me to push. Finally a doctor asked if I wanted a c-section and I just remember screaming "YES! YES!" They sent my husband out while they gave me an epidural and he could hear me screaming in the hall and the next room. The anesthesiologist was telling me what he was doing and I was so terrified the epidural wouldn't work again! I couldn't explain myself so I told him "No, just put me out, just put me out." Thankfully he told me we would try the epidural first! It did work, and by the time my husband came back in, I could stop screaming.

During the section I was completely out of it from the pain I had been in. I couldn't concentrate on anything, and I barely knew my husband was there. A doctor asked if I heard Ziggy's first cry and I couldn't. I couldn't even feel happy when I saw Ziggy for the first time. I felt nothing. It makes me so sad that I'll always remember that about his birth. The first happy memory I have was a couple hours later when they wheeled my bed to the post-partum unit. I got to hold Ziggy the whole way and I finally felt that new mom joy.

Ziggy was born at 8:36am on July 16, 2009. He was 8 pounds 12 ounces. (Two pounds less than the estimate that changed everything!)

I was worried afterward that we hadn't bonded since I didn't get my natural birth. After a day in the hospital I realized I was getting seriously pissed off at all the nurses and family. They were doing everything for Ziggy and I hadn't even changed a diaper. I was so mad I forced myself out of bed and started doing everything for him. That's when I knew we had definitely bonded!


There are a few things I wish I'd have done differently, and I wish someone had told me the following:

1. Everyone says to ask your provider what their L&D policies are. But, equally important is to ask how much control they will have over your birth in the hospital (even if you plan a home birth). My midwives had no say against the L&D doctors, so any plans we had were useless in the end.

2. If an ultrasound doesn't seem right, demand a second one by another technician even if you don't think it will matter.

3. If you are told you must have a certain procedure and you don't want it, go elsewhere! Even though I ended up with a c-section in the end, I will always be so thankful I got to at least try labor.

4. Get a doula!!! I think a lot could have been different if I had one. If money is an issue, do some research. The hospital I delivered in has a doula program where they will give you one for FREE. Had I known that, I would have planned my birth there from the beginning!

5. DO NOT push while on your back no matter who tells you to! Get your coach and anyone else in the room on board with this! I was so out of it in the end I didn't think to say no.

6. Don't let people in the delivery room if you aren't 100% happy with them being there. Certain family members came into my delivery room that I didn't want there and I didn't say no to spare their feelings. It distracted me and kept me from doing what I needed to do at times. I had people come in at 3am and settle in for a chat! My husband was clueless enough to ask me right in front of them if I wanted to "banish" anyone. I should have said yes!

Uh... any chance you can fix the typo on my son's name in the poll?

heh

C.

Quoting God:“ Uh... any chance you can fix the typo on my son's name in the poll? heh C.”

what? your son's name isn't colon?

heheheh...

okay, only b/c it's such a horrible mistake! (nick's going to go in and do this, since we can't edit the actual polls.)

bahahahaha!!!

WOW LOL!!!!! 

ah,   this is not the edited version, that I redid before round two closed   I posted it on page 6 of the original thread. I hate to complain but I fixed it up so much!

Quoting God:“ Uh... any chance you can fix the typo on my son's name in the poll? heh C.”

Lol I just noticed! Go figure on the rare occasion that Mara makes a mistake  

Yay, thank you Nick (and Mara)  

hehe

Have I set my son up for horrible name teasing in the future with a name like Colin? heh

C.

Quoting God:“ Yay, thank you Nick (and Mara)   hehe Have I set my son up for horrible name teasing in the future with a name like Colin? heh C.”

Colon is actually such a freaking awesome name.

ohh i am excited  

Quoting the possible police:“ ah,   this is not the edited version, that I redid before round two closed   I posted it on page 6 of the original thread. I hate to complain but I fixed it up so much!”

oh, sorry! i changed it!

Quoting [Tasha^Nika]:“ Lol I just noticed! Go figure on the rare occasion that Mara makes a mistake  ”

i'm queen of the sudden and glaring errors!

it's never something small either... dagnabbit!

i was thinking of letting this run for a week to be supah-doopah sure...

whattya guys think??

Quoting Mara:“ i was thinking of letting this run for a week to be supah-doopah sure... whattya guys think??”

i think that is a great idea

Quoting Mara:“ oh, sorry! i changed it!”

Thank you so much! I worked so hard to get it to cut and paste because my IE was acting up (yeah, I know, "Why are you still using IE?")

i think its funny that most of the winners are in my PT
 

it makes me feel warm and fuzzy