One Year Ago Around This Time...

I was hot, uncomfortable and peeing a lot. You guessed it. Pregnant. In some ways it seems like forever in other ways, just like yesterday. Since Mini-Man's birthday is rapidly approaching I thought I would share his birth story with ya'll. Be forewarned though, it's more of a pregnancy/labor/birth story. Read: LONG

I got pregnant with Mini-Man when A-Boy was just 11 months old. A-Boy was born at 34 weeks due to severe preeclampsia/HELLP syndrome and I was terrified that it was going to happen again. TERRIFIED. After I hit 25 weeks we took my blood pressure every single day, sometimes multiple times. I took baby aspirin, ate more protein and tried to eat better.

I was determined to have the birth experience I wanted this time around. A-Boy was born by emergency c-section and I hemmed and hawed on whether I should take the c-section route again. I went to Dr. K who told me he would lean towards doing a c-section because "more and more hospitals are not doing VBACs anymore" but that it was my decision and he would support me either way. He is a religious man, and told me to go home and pray about it. At first I said I was fine with a c-section, but the more I thought about it the more I felt uneasy about the whole thing. I felt like I was making the decision out of fear of the unknown, not because I knew it was best.

So I went online and started researching VBACS (Vaginal Birth After Cesaerean) vs. C-Sections. I talked to a lot of women who had done both. I did pros and cons lists. I prayed lots. Greg and I went to the temple to get clarity on the situation. I got my answer as we were sitting there in the quiet. In the grand scheme of things, it didn't really matter how my child was brought into this world. I came away feeling totally comfortable in my decision. I was going to have a VBAC.

My next appointment with Dr. K I brought it up. He spouted off with every reason in the book as to why I SHOULDN'T have one (and really, none of them were real reasons or applied to me in any way) and told me that I should go home and pray about it. I told him that I did and that I wanted to have a VBAC. "We really don't have to make that decision until you are about 36 weeks along. Let's wait until then, do an exam and then see if it is possible." Ummm......what???

So the next appointment I brought it up again. Same thing happened. He spouted off why I shouldn't have one, tried to scare me into it and told me we would make the decision at 36 weeks. Oh, and I should pray about it.

I was ticked. I knew that if I was with a doctor who wasn't supportive of a VBAC I could very well have an unnecessary c-section. I knew that if we waited until 36 weeks to make the decision it would be too late to find a new OB/GYN and I would be stuck with the one I was with.

I came home totally crying and upset. My next appointment Greg came with me. He was going to talk to him about all of it because every time I did I ended up emotional and crying about it. Greg asked him about doing a VBAC. Dr. K started talking about how 'the current literature on the subject" shows that not very many hospitals are doing VBACS anymore because of insurance rates. Blah, blah blah. He brought up the "let's wait until 36 weeks thing". I had had it. We finished talking, he measured my belly and left. I called another doctor that day.

28 weeks. I come to Dr. H not knowing what to expect. He walks in, shakes my hand, sits in his chair, tips back, props his feet up and says, "So...what's up? I heard you wanted a VBAC." I tell him what the other doctor had told me. He rolls his eyes and tells me that that is a bunch of old school b** s*** and that if I wanted a VBAC, we would do a VBAC. He tells me that his philosophy is that he treats his patients like he would want his wife to be treated. He tells me I can have the birth I want as long as it is safe. He promises me he would be at the birth and will do everything possible to make it happen. That Greg, the doctor and I were a team and that we were going to DO it! I cried and cried. GOOD tears this time though. Remember, I was pregnant and ridin' the emotional rollercoaster.

32 Weeks. We take a natural childbirth class. Fifteen minutes into it I know it is not for me. I am fine with drugs. We learn a lot from the class, breathing and coping techniques, but it is not for me.

34 Weeks. This is when I delivered A-Boy. No baby in sight, no signs of preeclampsia. The whole week I am on edge. When the week is over, Greg and I breath sighs of relief. We are venturing into new territory. I start getting really really big and really really uncomfortable.

36 1/2 Weeks. Dr. H strips my membranes to get things going a bit, which probably isn't the best idea since it does nothing for me but cause me to have major back labor. I can't sleep for a week.

38 Weeks. It is July and hot. I signed up for the energy program where they turn your air conditioner off on really hot days to save energy. Am I stupid? Why did I do that? Oh, yeah. To save $7. It is SO worth it, let me tell you. We go to the pool a lot, mainly so that I could submerge my whale of a body and forget that I am hugely pregnant. Did I mention it is hot?

39 Weeks. I don't feel good around 11:30pm when I go to bed. I have a hard time getting to sleep. I start throwing up at 3 am and am up puking or having bouts of diarrhea every fifteen minutes for the rest of the night. It is awful.

6:00 am. I am bowing to the porcelain gods when I feel something wet. I start sobbing. Greg asks if I am okay. I tell him that not only am I throwing up, but I just peed all over the floor! Could things be any worse? I sit on the toilet and realize that it isn't stopping. It isn't pee. My water broke! Hooray! I AM still in charge of my bodily functions! (Well, kind of) I tell him and he doesn't believe me. He keeps asking me if I am sure. "Of COURSE I am sure. I am SURE!" I say through clenched teeth. I decide to take a quick shower before we head to the hospital. Useless, since as soon as I finish more amniotic fluid leaks down my leg. Nice.

7:10 am. I have my first contraction. It lasts about 20 seconds. Piddly little thing.

7:30 am. We get to the hospital and drop A-Boy off to his aunts. They go to breakfast, thinking that by the time they are finished they will come back to the hospital and see their new nephew. Yeah, right.

7:50 am. We check in with the nurse. I tell her my water has broken and she tells me to pee in a cup. How do you pee in a cup when you are leaking fluids from other areas? I ask her this. She shrugs and directs me to the bathroom. I pee in the cup. I hand it back to her and she says, "Wow, your water has broken!" What? Really? I hadn't noticed.

8:00 am. They get me into a gown and stuff. Contractions are a good 5 minutes apart. The nurse checks me and I'm at a measly 1.

9:30 am. Dr. H comes to see me. He looks shocked tells me I don't look very good. (Gee, thanks) I tell him that I have been throwing up with diarrhea all night and am living on zero sleep. He checks me. I'm still at a one. Dr. H tells me that if I want an epidural now I can have one, that way I can try to get some sleep since I will need energy for pushing. I am all for that. I want some sleep.

9:45 am. Epidural time. I am not scared of the needle, I just don't look. I feel a pinch, my legs start to feel heavy but I can move them. The machine says I am having a contraction but I don't notice. The nurse anesthetist tells me that he thinks there should be a men's lounge in the hospital where men can go have a beer and watch a game while their wives are laboring. I bite my tongue. I try to sleep.

11:00 am. I beg for food. The nurse tells me she can give me broth or Jello. I tell her Jello is great and she brings me back lemon. YUCK. I throw it up. She brings me blue. I throw that up too. She swears those are the only two kinds they have at the moment. Who likes blue Jello? I think about stealing some of Greg's candy but figure I will throw that up too so I don't.

12:00pm. The dang blood pressure cuff goes off every fifteen minutes, just when I am about to drift away into slumberland. Because of the preeclampsia/hellp thing I am too afraid to take it off so I just try to deal.

3:00 pm. My contractions are slowing and aren't consistent at all. Actually, they never really were consistent. Dr. H checks me. I'm in between a 2 and a 3. He wants to give me a low dose of pitocin. I say no way. I read a lot of things about pitocin and pitocin + VBAC = uterine rupture. He promises to keep it an extremely low dose, just enough to keep my contractions consistent. I agree. The nurse is mad and wants to crank it up so that I will dilate faster. He tells her absolutely not and she pouts for the rest of her shift.

6:00 pm. My epidural is starting wear off so the anesthetist gives me another one. Dr. H checks me again. I'm still at a 3. He is concerned. He says there is a thin band of collagen around my cervix that isn't allowing it to expand but we will try. He uses tongs to manually stretch my cervix. (Thank goodness for epidurals) He works on it for about 30 minutes and gets me to a 4. Whoopee.

6:30 pm. My epidural stops working. I am feeling everything. It is extremely painful and the pitocin is doing nothing. We stop the pitocin.

8:30 pm. I really start whining about the pain. And I feel like I have to push. They check me and I am barely at a 5. They pump more drugs into the epidural but it isn't working. The pain goes away for about 10 minutes and then comes back with a vengence. The meds are making me loopy. Greg is a great coach, we do breathing exercises and count lots.

9:30 pm. The nurses decide they want to move me into another wing since I am the only one left in my wing. I want to kill them all. If the nurse anesthetist utters another @#$%%^& word I am going to throw something sharp at him.

10:30 pm. Greg tries to keep me focused. I am having 30 second contractions every minute or so, still not consistent. I ask him for some Carmex and he goes to my bag to get it. A contraction starts and I yell at him to "GET YOUR BUTT BACK OVER HERE NOW!" He comes running. I keep asking him to fetch me things that are far away but he is afraid to get them because I yell at him whenever a contraction starts. It's great fun. I remember in our childbirth class when they told us that squeezing the hips together seems to help so I tell him to do that. A contraction starts right when he begins squeezing and I scream "DON'T TOUCH ME!" at him.

10:32 pm. I apologize for screaming at my sweet, bewildered husband who is only trying to help.

11:30 pm. The nurse checks me. I am still at a 5. I break down bawling. I can't do it anymore. I am exhausted. She leaves and I talk to Greg. I tell him I am done. I am so so so tired and I'm only halfway there. I was living on no sleep and have kept down no food in the past 24 hours. It's just not going to happen.

12:00 am. Dr. H checks me again and I am still at a 5. (big surprise there) He tells me he is going to be straight with me and that he knows how much I want a VBAC and he wants that for me too but it just isn't going to happen. My cervix is being held tight by that band of collagen and it's just not working. I know he is right. I also know that if things keep going the way they are going there is no way I am going to get to the point of being able to push. I am completely and utterly exhausted. I request that the nurse anesthetist NOT be in the operating room because everything about him bugs me. Dr. H says he will take care of it. I cry and the nurses prep me for a c-section.

12: 15 am. I am a total mess. Hysterically crying. Greg calls our family to tell them I am going in for a c-section. They want to come to the hospital and I make him tell them no way. I need to deal with this whole Having To Have A C-Section thing before seeing anyone. I feel defeated.

1:00 am. They take me to the operating room and leave Greg out in the hall. They give me a spinal, but tell me that I cannot move even a bit during insertion. The nurse puts her arms around me and I put my head on her shoulder. I start having a sharp contraction when the anesthesiologist is inserting the needle. I am yelling "ONE TWO THREE FOUR...through the contraction. Everyone in the entire room is counting with me. I am bawling. Dr. H rubs my back and tells me it is okay, then goes out in the hall and cries with my husband.

1:25 am. Greg comes in and holds my hand. Dr. H comes in. Surgery begins. I shake through the entire thing. I feel like I can't breathe. I feel a lot of pressure, a lot of pain. I didn't feel that way during my first c-section.

1:44 am. Mini-Man is born. Seven pounds, one ounce. He is beautiful. The nurses take him over to clean him up and Greg asks if we could please see him for 30 seconds before they take him away. They look at us like we are crazy and tell us that they aren't going to take him away. We can see him as long as we'd like! We both start crying. This is much different than A-Boy's birth. He was whisked away to the NICU before we even really got a good look at him so just being able to SEE Mini-Man is amazing to us. Greg gets to hold Mini-Man, I am shaking too much to hold him but I'm okay with just touching and looking since I feel so out of it. I am amazed at how beautiful he is. He looks perfect.

2:30 am. I get settled into the recovery room and ask for Mini-Man. They bring him to me and I tell Greg, "This isn't our last baby." He looks at me like I am nuts but I know that our family is not complete yet. There is at least one more waiting and I feel it strongly. WhileI hold Mini-Man, Greg and I cry . Going through everything I went through was worth it for this one moment of peace. Never have I felt so close to my husband, never have I felt so close to God.

It is now a year later. At first I had a really hard time with not getting my VBAC and even now I occasionally think about what I could have done differently. I wonder if it would have made a difference. Should I have not had an epidural? Did all the drugs make my labor slow down? What if I hadn't been sick the night before and got actual rest? Would it have mattered or did the whole "band of collagen" on my cervix thing doom me to failure?

For the longest time I felt like my body failed me. Dr. H spent a lot of time with me trying to help me come to terms with it. I wanted a VBAC and I did everything I could do to get it. I tried, I gave it my all. Even when I felt like giving up I kept going. There is something to be said for that. And in the end, I feel okay. Things didn't go exactly the way I planned, but I did what felt right to me. I am okay with that.

I have wondered a few times about the "I Told You So" that Dr. K must have felt when he found out I had a repeat c-section. What Dr. K doesn't understand is that I needed to try. I wanted to experience what most moms experience. I wanted to feel labor. I needed to know that I had given it my all and I did. What I didn't need is someone to tell me that I couldn't, with no real reasoning to back it up. The man had no idea that my cervix had issues. He just didn't want to do it.

This whole experience really made me realize that I need to be in control of what happens to me and my body as much as I can. That doctors, even well-meaning doctors that share my same beliefs and values, don't always know what is best for me. I feel like I am a better person for going through the whole experience. I am not saying that c-sections are bad, or that VBACS are for everyone because they aren't. I am saying that we as women need to be in control. We need to make informed decisions and not just blindly go into things.

So Happy First Birthday, Mini-Man. You made your Momma a stronger Momma even before your arrival. We love you in our family. You bring sunshine into our lives every day, even when you are showing 'tude.

Love you, kid.