My Birth Story
I've wanted to type this out for a long time because I think it's important for mothers to share their stories and encourage other moms in their experiences, whether positive or negative, because we grow either way. I loved my birth team and am glad I have a healthy little girl of almost 20 months, but my birth was traumatic.
Let me start by saying, I understand the nuances of birth. I understand how uniquely different all birth stories are and how every mother in her own right is, well, a Badass. I don't know any other way to say it. Birthing a human, no matter HOW it happens, is an incredible feat and changes you to your core. But I also want to say that a mother's birth experience is sometimes incredibly traumatic. Maybe my story isn't as crazy as someone else's and maybe to you this story won't seem that thrilling, because well "aT lEaSt YoUr BaBy Is HeAlThY nOw, RiGhT?" But my experience left me sad, and I felt weak, powerless and even humiliated. I didn't feel strong. And I truly believe, if I were to be able to see the full story in tangible memories, I would be able to cope with my experience, because well... it's mine and no matter how traumatic it was, there was still beauty in it.
December 4th 2020 I was going in for my 38 week appointment. The two weeks prior I had been in a quarantine because a coworker had gotten sick (thanks C-19) . I can't even complain because that was honestly the greatest gift anyone could give me, 14 days of rest leading up to the end of my pregnancy... priceless. So I went in to my 9:30 appointment feeling excited, rejuvenated and completely, blissfully unaware that my blood pressure was off the charts. The nurse asked me how I felt, but I felt fine.. A little nervous, because I'm not too fond of hospitals but, I felt okay, all things considered! They checked my urine, and you guessed it...they found protein. "Your blood pressure is too high, and I don't feel comfortable letting you go home. We're going to have a baby today!" I was Pre-Eclamptic and my bloodwork confirmed it. I was going to be induced and my beautifully written and well- thought out birth plan, and my unmedicated, low intervention birth went straight out the window. All of my appointments were done alone (because of C-19) and I called my husband in hysterics. I wasn't ready, and I mean, I hadn't even fed the dog! I told her I would feed her when I got home... and I had NO intentions of staying to give birth! He left work, grabbed our bags (fed the dog) and was there to support me within 45 minutes. And then we waited. And waited. They didn't have an available room, so I had to lay on a couch in my midwives office, hooked to belly and blood pressure monitors for about 5 hours before I could get to a room to be induced. Once we were moved to a room in L&D, my midwife asked if I wanted an epidural. I wanted to labor without it, but given my blood pressure, and everything I knew about the unpredictability of Pitocin, I opted to get it done because my midwife, husband and I all thought it would help my blood pressure. I think that was about 5pm, when they started the Pitocin drip and maybe an hour or so afterwards I got the epidural. This is where it gets fuzzy in my memory. I know it was painful. Everything, but especially my back. It felt like nerve pain and not just painful contractions. When I was at 9cm and fully effaced, maybe around midnight, I started getting the "shakes" and was told to rest until I got to 10cm. It was horribly painful and all I could do was flip sides "because of gravity". It didn't help. My legs were numb but I felt every contraction and could not stop shaking. I don't know how I could possibly rest like this. Hours go by and around 4am my midwife and midwife in training did everything they could to get this kid to descend but she just would not drop. They "shook the apple tree" and did other spinning techniques to get her in the best pushing position. It was hard, but I labored on my hands and knees, and back to laying on my back, back and forth. There was no helping the pain so I was just ready for it be over. I don't remember a lot of this part, but I know I pushed for hours. At one point I heard either a nurse or my midwife mention the On-Call OB's name and knew that if we didn't get this baby out, they would be considering an emergency C-Section. I remember telling myself... "you can do this, but do it now."
She was born at 7:16am, December 5th, vaginally. This was the traumatic part for me. They plopped her on my belly, and with a small umbilical cord, she didn't even reach my chest. I felt her little hand, but I couldn't see her. My husband cut the cord and I saw a lot of nurses scrambling to pull her away, and start working on her. I never heard her cry. I was terrified. While I laid there getting fixed up and delivering afterbirth, I never got to see her. They said they were rushing her to the NICU and within 20 minutes, I was in a room all alone, unable to comprehend what just happened. My husband went to see my midwife and ask about our girl. We were scared but more because we didn't know what was going on. She was born with meconium and they suspected she inhaled it in her lungs. My husband was panicking thinking she was going to die because of how little he knew about what happened. I felt empty. Like, I did all this work and I don't get to see her. I don't get the first moments with her. She doesn't get to feel my skin next to hers and we don't get to bond those first couple hours. Those golden hours that they always talk about, right? I feel like I missed out on the most important day of my life and everything is sad and foggy. I remember at one point, an L&D nurse named Abby helped me get ready to see my daughter for the first time. She was the kindest person I've ever met, but this was such a humiliating feeling. I couldn't stand on my own. I couldn't even go to the restroom. I had to literally sit on the edge of the bed and pee in a bed pan, while two nurses helped steady me because I couldn't get to the restroom. A urine and blood soaked mess. Weak and unable to stand. Feeling empty. Physically and emotionally. I didn't feel strong. I didn't feel like I just did an incredible thing. I felt like I was in a fog and this special moment was taken from me. I'm glad my husband was with our daughter because I wanted someone to be with her. But I wanted that to be me. When I was finally wheeled down to see her, hours later, I was an emotional wreck.. As you can imagine. I was able to breastfeed and connect and do skin to skin and all of those beautiful baby things. And just a few hours later we were able to take her out of NICU. I think she was there 8 or 9 hours total.
Now, I understand other families have traumatic stories that don't end happily. Their stories are riddled with sadness and loss, or with children that wind up in NICU for much longer. It makes our story pale in comparison, but I also know that it's okay to struggle with the memory of an experience like this and not compare to anyone else's. Because of everything that happened, I choose to be more informed on what I can do in the future to make changes that would make me feel more comfortable. I know moving forward how to advocate for myself, and what to expect if it ever happened again. I also know that I will have a birth photographer, no matter what, if and when I give birth a second time (and any times after that), no matter the cost.
Which brings me to my WHY.
I didn't have a birth photographer present for my daughter's birth. It wasn't something I even considered at the time, but I wish more than anything else I could have had one. I don't think having a photographer present would have made any difference in the experience, but it would mean the world to be able to see the sequence of events to help me remember what I've forgotten. It's such a foggy memory and I was so overwhelmed, with so many emotions and adrenaline that I honestly don't remember most of it. I do remember how present and supportive my husband was, but I wish I got to see those intimate moments of him bringing water and a towelette for my face. I wish I had documentation of his emotions of the day. I wish I had photos documenting my amazing midwives doing some medieval techniques on my body to get this baby to come out. I wish I had photos of me being strong and pushing through the pain that childbirth brings. I wish I had documentation of the most influential moments of my life.
But I don't. I have approximately 5 or 6 photos of the whole experience that one of the nurses took with my cell phone. And I cry every time I see them because of how important they are to me. If it's up to me, I would never let another mom not get this experience documented. Because as much as the first time moms think, "oh, my husband or support person can take a few pictures, or we won't want any photos of all THAT"... You will. You will want your husband present and supporting you. It's not about getting those "down-there" photos and having a stranger in your business. It's about having someone there who is passionate about photojournalism and documenting a monumental day for you and your family. It's about making sure that you get real, tangible memories that show the strength, diligence, passion and beauty in your birth experience. Documentation can be intimate and beautiful, and it can be raw and healing too. That's why I do birth photography. Because I'm so very passionate about making sure the experience you have is remembered.