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December 21st, 2006, 01:30 PM
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DahliaMarie DahliaMarie is offline
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After three weeks, I finally got the courage to post this.

I am having a VERY hard time dealing with the loss of my home birth. I feel like a failure. If only I could have known this way going to happen to me. I refused to prepare for failure, so when it happened, I freaked out. I am depressed, and cry everytime I think about the birth of my son. I still haven't been able to write out my birth story. I start it... I just can't finish it. It's too tramatic for me.

My water broke at about 5:00/5:30 am Saturday (11-25-06) morning. My midwife and doula came over about 4 that afternoon. She checked me and told me I was 1 cm. I had been having some pretty hard contractions, so I was suprised. I knew I could do this. My contractions kept getting stronger and my birth team took turns sitting and breathing with me through the night. I hadn't been able to sleep, or keep anything down since labor had started. It was sometime Sunday afternoon when I started to feel tired and dehydrated. I still knew I could do this. My midwife checked me again. I was only a 3. 3?! You've got to be kidding me! She noticed the baby had what she called a "cap-it" (spelling?) and there was still a little sack covering his head. She thought it would help move things along if she broke my water the rest of the way. Up to this point, I had a high tear and was just "leaking". I wanted to wait. I didn't want any intervention. After several more hours, and some contractions that were rocking my body with a power I cannot explain, she checked me again. I was still a 3. I agreed to let her break my water the rest of the way. She said the baby would be here within three hours. I was tired, hungry, but I could still do this. My baby was going to be born at home! It was 3 pm. My contractions got immediately stronger. I didn't have any more control over my body. I wasn't myself anymore. I had one contraction (or series of contractions?) that lasted over 45 minutes. I was a trooper. I could still do this! I was strong, my birth team keep cheering me on. I was doing so great! Babys heartbeat was strong, my blood pressure was good. I still hadn't eaten or drank anything since 5:30 am Saturday, but it was ok. I was sipping on water. Even though it would come back up, the midwife thought I was at least getting a little something out of it, and she wasn't too concerned. The contractions were so strong! They were 2-3 minutes apart lasting between 1-45 minutes... ) I just kept breathing, moaning, singing my birth song and telling myself each contraction was bringing my baby closer to me. I chanted "down down down" and "open open open" in a low, deep voice I would have never imagined could have come from my body. I continued to move from sitting and rocking on the bed to laying down to sitting on the birth ball. I walked and crawled around my house. I did pelvic rocks and lobored on my knees. I stood and did a labor dance. I did everything in my power to birth my baby. I squatted through a pain so intense, I could never find the words to articulate it to you. I did this for HOURS! I started to feel some pressure, so I asked my midwife to check me again. It was almost midnight, (Sunday night, Monday morning) I was only a 6. This is where it gets tramatic for me. My midwife sits down and tells me she doesn't know what else to do for me. She started having trouble finding Dominic's heartbeat. She said that I had literally tried everything and that it was time to start thinking about the hospital. I started crying hysterically. DF hugged and tried to console me. I was a mess! My midwife said that I wasn't progressing and that while Dominic and I seemed to be doing well so far, she was worried at how much more we could both take. Again, I had'nt slept, ate or drank anything is two days. I was delirious and kept saying weird things that didn't even make sence to me in between contractions. I was yelling at my birth team. I was in so much pain, I couldn't see. I refused to go to the hospital. I didn't want any part of it. I kept screaming that they were going to take my baby. I knew what I meant. I thought they would put him in the nursery and give him formula and not let me see him. I was freaking out! I kept asking DF "Where's my toothbrush?!" all frantic. What I meant to say was "I don't have a bag packed, I didn't plan for this!" I want to say they made me go. We got some things together and got into my car. We were following the midwife to a hospital across town (where she knew the doctor on call) and she got us lost. Then, there was a wreck on the freeway and we had to take the back roads. I was hurting so bad, I thought I was going to pass out. Sitting in a car during active labor sucks! When we got to the hospital, they were SO RUDE to us!! I'm still not ready to talk about all the things that happened there. They checked me and I was still a 6. The nurse stared an iv and I noticed that there was an orange sticker on the bag that said "pitocin". I was crying and begging her not to. "No drugs! No drugs!" I kept screaming at her. She told me it was doctors orders and that he said (and I quote) my options were pitocin or a c-section. My water had been broke for too long for hospital policy, and I was "taking too long". I told her I hadn't even talked to the doctor yet, and she laughed at me. She said "Sweetie, the doctor doesn't come until the baby is coming out" I didn't understand. Then she told me they were coming around to give me my epidural in a few minutes. I cursed a little and told her to tell them to "shove it" because I wanted my baby born sober! (I was not at all myself at this point!) She laughed and said "We'll see how long that lasts!" and left the room. (I don't really want to talk more about this nurse right now... Let's just say after it was all over, I reported her to the nursing association and her liscence is in jeopardy at this point) When the pitocin kicked in, it hit me like a truck. It felt like one long contraction. It was so intense! I had DF and my best friend in there with me. After a few hours (I have no concept of time at this point) I started pushing. When the contractions came, my body just "grunted down" it was a very weird feeling! That same nurse came back in and turned bright lights on me, yelled at me and forced me to lay down (I was sitting up rocking through the contractions) she put the head of my bed lower than my feet and ripped my legs apart. She told me to put them in the stirrups and cooperate if I "wanted a live healthy baby"! I begged her to put my head up some more, to let me have gravity to help. She yelled at me and told me I would do this her way, or she would just leave. She ripped her gloves off and left me there exposed, alone and pushing. DF and my midwife and best friend were still in the room with me and were SHOCKED! She came back and was even ruder and rougher than before. *I'm skipping lots of details. I will try to fill it all in as I can. I'm typing through tears at this point...* At some point the Dr. showed up. He didn't even introduce himself, he just stuck his hand inside me and turned the baby. (** I forgot to mention the reason I was not progressing and was in so much pain is that Dominic was trying to come out head/shoulders first instead of straight on. He was sorta stuck sideways in there **) He made DF and my best friend grab my legs and push them up, I begged them not to. DF was crying and telling me how sorry he was it tured out like this. They were all counting and telling me to "PUSH PUSH PUSH" It was my worst nightmare coming to life. My body continued to push during contractions and I let it do its job. I pushed with the contractions. Dominic was born at 6:53 am Monday morning. The cord was around his neck. It seemed like forever before they lifted him up for me to see. He was beautiful and I thought at that moment, worth every single second. While they gave my baby Vit.K and eye goop (WITHOUT ASKING MY PERMISSION, mind you) the Dr. told me I had two tears. A second and a first degree. He pulled out a needle and started to give me some local. He started stiching, but I could feel it. I could feel the needle and thread going through me. I told him and he gave me more local, but I could still feel it. I didn't care at this point. I wanted my baby. The rest of my stay was a series of arguments with nurses over them not taking my baby to the nursery, "No, I DO NOT want him to have the Hep. B shot", "Yes, I am refusing to have him circumsized!", etc.

My midwife later told me that I had the second longest labor in the history of her practice. The longest ended up with a c-section after 54 hours.

So anyway, that's not really my birth story so much as just the "highlights" I'll fill in the details and all later, when I can. I hate how it all turned out and find myself really depressed over the whole thing. I can't even think about it without breaking into a hysterical cry. This was hard for me to share.

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