OLIVIA
Rewind to January, 2008. With Olivia, I started having contractions Wednesday evening, January 2. They were few and far between but steady enough to know that “something” was happening. I phoned the OB on call around 11pm (there were a handful of OBs in our practice; I liked some, not others, never thought much of it); she said that she’d go ahead and call the hospital and let them know that they’d likely be seeing us sometime the next day. We went to bed around midnight, and I woke up around 4am with faster contractions but still nothing urgent. By 5:30am, I woke Dustin up and told him that if there was anything he needed to finish for work for the remainder of the week that he should do so. And I sent emails to pertinent people at my own office letting them know that my maternity leave was definitely starting early. (O was due January 9.)
What I remember most about those morning hours is Dustin hurriedly taking a shower at 6am and immediately putting on his shoes, something we never do until we’re walking out the door, even though I had told him that I thought it’d be some time before we would actually head to the hospital. I remember calling Lacy and telling her that I thought “this was it” and having to breathe through contractions while on the phone with her. I remember Sue from next door calling to ask how I was feeling, that she just had a strong premonition about me that morning and did I need anything. I remember finally heading to the hospital around 10:45am (it’s relatively just down the street), and Dustin commenting that this was not at all how he pictured the drive, that he thought it would be really crazed and stressful. I remember telling him to zip it, as my contractions were faster now and I didn’t feel as non-crazed or non-stressful as he did.
We waited a few minutes at the maternity check-in, and I remember being annoyed by another pregger who was there who was talking loudly on her cellphone. She was not in labor but her OB had sent her over for some tests and I just wanted her to shut up and let me focus on my contractions. We were sent to Triage where we were seemingly forgotten about, and I had to send Dustin out into the hall to find a nurse to give me “something to take the edge off” – this would mark our first artificial augmentation in our labor, and looking back, I really just wanted someone to come in and tell me what was happening to my body. The nurse gave me Fentinel and promised that my OB would be there soon. Later, we were moved to an actual L&D room, but still no OB. At least Lacy was finally able to be with us; she had been forced to wait while I was in Triage.
I remember being asked if I wanted an epidural (ah, the slippery slope) and answering that I did, and when would we do that. They immediately called the anesthesiologist – before I knew it, and before ever seeing my OB, I had an epi. That made my labor stall and I needed Pitocin. The OB was one of the ones that I didn’t really like, and I’m sure that too stalled my labor. She started getting snarky, saying things like “Let’s get this moving – there’s a new Law & Order tonight!” Early that evening, they start saying that the baby’s not tolerating the Pitocin well (surprise) and that if I don’t “really start progressing” that we’d have to “consider a c-section”. That being said, the nurse immediately started packing up the delivery cart in my room, making it all too clear which direction we were headed. An hour later, the OB, who we’d seen intermittently at best, comes in, checks for dilation, and determines that c/s is best. I start crying – this is NOT going the way I intended (hoped, dreamed) – and the nurse (and I will never forget this) says, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ll still be able to wear a bikini.” I promptly told her to get the fuck out of my room.
Fast forward to the operating room. OB starts cutting before Dustin’s even in the room. This is hell. Again, this is NOT the way I wanted to bring my girl into this world. I remember the sensation of her being pulled from my abdomen. I remember the smell of my body being cauterized closed. I remember hearing my baby crying and being too drugged up to care. I remember Dustin crying with joy and me just wondering if it was all over yet.
The following weeks were really hard for me. The physical recovery wasn’t nearly as terrible as some mamas experience with c-sections, but my emotional side was a complete train wreck. I was frustrated and angry, and I couldn’t get past the fact that I wasn’t an active participant in my daughter’s birth. Nearly every afternoon, I was laying with her on the nursery floor, crying. I was actively asking why we thought having a baby was a good idea. I was in a dark, dark place. I’m grateful to my endlessly patient husband and that Olivia stuck it out with me too. I’ve spent a lot of time wishing that I was a more positive person during those weeks, but I know I can’t change that. That I can just move forward.
PREPARING FOR ELLIOTT
We knew we wanted another baby. Olivia is a funny, smart, charismatic little person, and we knew that we wanted to share the love that we have for her with another child as well. Typical to my nature, I started reading. A lot.
About c-sections, particularly those that are considered “unnecessary” or for the doctor’s convenience rather than the mama’s. The “cause” of my c-section was “failure to progress” whereas I am convinced that it was simply “failure to wait”. I became versed in the language of VBAC – Vaginal Birth After Cesarean. Most OBs won’t do it, and a lot of hospitals won’t. Of those attempting a VBAC, only 60% actually get them. The rest have repeat c’s. I knew the odds, but I wanted this time to be different.
We started seeing a midwife rather than an OB. I didn’t trust my old practice or the hospital that delivered Olivia, and I knew I needed someone who had a wholly different approach. Once we were pregnant, we hired a doula. Doing so was a big decision for us, but after talking about it incessantly, Dustin was incredibly supportive. Originally, he was simply supportive of me having the birth that I wanted, but along the way, he fell in love with our doula as well and was equally on board to make this a truly different experience. Between Margaret, the midwife, and Amy, our doula, and with all of the resources I poured through for months on end, we truly felt like we had gathered our “village” – no matter what the outcome, I trusted these women.
The conversations we had along the way favored natural childbirth. Natural, as in drug-free. For one, for a VBAC, I’d need continuous monitoring. But the monitoring is faulty – the results are subject to interpretation, and not only do doctors interpret the results from this particular monitoring differently, even the same doctor looking at it at different times has been known to change their interpretation. (So why bother, I ask.) The risk of uterine rupture with a prior c/s is .5% - not 5%, but half of 1%. The risk of uterine rupture for a mama that has never had a c/s is .25% (a quarter of 1%) – I personally would rather try for the VBAC than schedule a repeat C. But if I did have a rupture, it’s easier to rely on a drug-free me to tell the midwife that something feels wrong than to rely on the subject-to-interpretation monitoring. Furthermore, studies show that epidurals can (and in my case with Olivia, probably did) slow a labor, causing further augmentations, like Pitocin. Because Pit causes strong, artificial contractions, the risks for a repeat C increase as the labor becomes a bit more volatile. We wanted to avoid all of that if possible.
That, and I simply wanted this birth to be “mine” – to be the birth that I was present for. For that, I do not regret my c-section; it led me to my VBAC. Don’t get me wrong – I wasn’t soapboxing, and I never felt like I had to prove myself to anyone. I wanted this for me. And I felt like I chose this. In a different realm of my being, lifetimes ago, I believe that I have chosen everything that has happened to me and everything that will happen to me. Just as I believe that Olivia and Elliott have chosen the same. In a different realm of their own being, they each chose us to be their parents, and just as I believe that Olivia chose to experience a c-section with me, I believe that Elliott chose this VBAC journey with me as well.
So back to the books. And the videos. And the message boards. And the hypnobirthing tapes. And the chiropractic work. And the yoga. And the midwife. And the doula. I’m telling you, it was a village indeed.
ELLIOTT
Another amazing pregnancy. Just like Olivia’s, I had very few aches and pains. Very little to complain about. My body can do this, and I LOVE being pregnant. Two and a half weeks before my due date, our midwife, Margaret, tells us that E is posterior – he’s head down, but facing forward instead of backwards. If he stays that way, it’ll make our labor a little more “interesting”, but Margaret never says the C-word, gives me some tips on how to turn him in the coming weeks, and promises that we’ll work with whatever position he’s in once I go into labor. I love her. I ramp up the chiropractic work and do a ton of very specific yoga moves to help the little guy re-position, and sure enough, a week later, he’s golden. We’re doing this.
A week before my due date, contractions start. They’re sizeable but not really painful, and they’re far apart but consistent. After a few hours, they disappear. It goes on like this for a few days, probably Braxton-Hicks contractions. If I had them with Olivia’s pregnancy, I didn’t know it. The Friday before our Due Date Weekend, I wake up with a “trickle”. I wonder if I’ve peed myself. When I sit up, there’s the tiniest gush, but I’m still coming out of a dead sleep and am having trouble processing all of this. Nothing more comes; I wait until later in the morning and go ahead and tell the midwife and the doula, just to give fair warning. Amy (doula) keeps tabs on me throughout the day, and Margaret (midwife) calls me later in the afternoon wondering what’s happening. I explain that not a single thing has happened since the morning’s trickle and that perhaps I did indeed pee myself. (What every adult wants to admit to.) She explains that it “could be anything” and that there are layers of amniotic fluid but that it seemed that I did not actually break my water. She suggested acupuncture. I considered acupuncture when we learned that E was posterior, but prior to that, even knowing what amazing successes people have had with it, I had never in my life thought I’d get acupuncture. I am NOT a fan of needles. Even sweet, endearing little holistic ones. And yet, there I was, making an appointment for the next day.
Krista runs her Saturday acupuncture appointments out of her house in the Highlands and had an opening for 1:30pm. All through the night, I had contractions ten minutes apart, and they were strong enough to wake me up out of a deep sleep. As morning got closer, they sputtered to a halt. Amy wondered (rightfully) if they stopped because I was subconsciously worried about Olivia. Once we started our day Saturday, we called Dustin’s parents and just asked them to come on down. They were scheduled for Olivia duty, and although we had not officially gone into labor, something was clearly TRYING to get started. Then I asked Dustin to just take Olivia somewhere else – I think her little toddler pheromones were stalling my body’s want for labor. And so I walked. A lot. Around and around the neighborhood, killing time before my 1:30pm acup appointment, but still no further contractions.
I show up a little late for the appt, but Krista’s great and I feel at ease. After some discussion, I decide to sit in a chair, leaning forward on some pillows on top of the table, rather than laying on the table itself. The needling begins. I close my eyes – no point in seeing those little things. I start sweating like I’ve run a damn marathon. Krista asks if it’s external or internal – am I hot or is it the acup? I think it’s the acup. Then I start hearing a buzzing. But it’s internal too. It sounds like there are rainsticks in my head. Or maybe crickets singing. But it’s definitely inside my head. Krista is proud and says that it’s the vibrations and that it means that not only is the acupuncture working, but that it’s REALLY working. I too am impressed – this is pretty cool. But I’m still sweating like crazy. She lets me marinate a bit with all of the needles doing their part, and when the session was over, she tells me that I can sit up whenever I felt like it. As soon as I did, GUSH. There is no doubt that my water has broken. I start laughing and tell Krista what’s happening. She’s great about it and brings me towels and offers to call someone to drive me home. I decline – I feel great and home’s only 20ish minutes away. I walk to my car soaked through but am laughing.
It’s 3:30pm. Here we go.
I call Dustin and Amy on the way home to update them. I’m giddy. Dustin’s mom is already at our house with Olivia, and his dad is headed down later in the afternoon. All is right with the world. Literally, the first contraction hits as I’m pulling into our garage. I go upstairs to change clothes and the contractions continue. I come back downstairs to see everyone and play with Olivia some and the contractions are still doing their thing. I’m only downstairs a little while before I ask Dustin to come upstairs with me to help me focus on the contractions – they’re getting stronger and I’m distracted downstairs but I also don’t want to scare Olivia.
Upstairs, they come faster it seems. Dustin is tracking them (there’s an app for that!), and they’re 4 minutes apart, 1 minute long, almost immediately. We’re supposed to wait until they’ve been like that for an hour before we call the cavalry, but 45minutes is all I can do before we’re calling both Margaret (who is luckily already at the hospital delivering someone else) and Amy. Margaret says to come on in – she’d rather us settle in at the hospital than wait too late and rush things. Amy says she’ll meet us there.
It takes forever for me to get out of the house. I don’t want to move. I have a contraction at the top of the stairs. I tell Dustin to say good-bye to Olivia for both of us because I know I’m not going to be able to see her without another contraction hitting. I barely make it downstairs and out to the garage before I’m squatting on the ground with another one. (Oh, and waving at our shared-driveway neighbor in the process.) I climb into the car and another one hits. I end up with the passenger seat reclined as far as it will go and with one knee on the seat and the other on the floorboard, hugging the center console. Not quite how I pictured the drive to the hospital. Dustin is a rock, and I am grateful. I’m moaning through contractions the whole way and he just keeps rubbing my back and driving. I suppose this is the crazy trip to the hospital that he missed out on with Olivia’s birth.
We get to the hospital and Amy’s waiting outside. I see her and start laughing at the whole situation and she’s laughing too. Dustin drops me off to go park, and I can’t even make it up the four steps to the doors before another contraction hits. Barely make it to the elevators, another one. Get out of the elevators, another one. Down the hall, waiting on the nurses to buzz us through to the L&D rooms, another one. Each time, I’m squatting on the floor, just rhythmically breathing and moaning. When they buzz the doors to L&D open, they see me (a VBAC whose water has broken now 3 hours earlier) and three nurses come running, pulling on gloves as they go. They’re convinced that this baby’s coming right now. I know he’s not, but it’s a funny sight and I keep laughing. Check-in to the floor at 5:55pm, another contraction. They don’t even bother with an amnio check or a triage room; I go straight to a “real” room. Barely get there before another one. Filling out paperwork through 5-6 more. This is insane; Amy and I are just laughing. Sign the release for a VBAC, enumerating all of my risks, yeah, yeah, yeah. Finally, all of that is done and here we are. I’m in labor.
From there on, I only remember snippets. Dustin finding us and admitting that he’s forgotten both the birth ball and the birth plan at home. Me just laughing. Margaret borrowing a birth ball from another mama who’s just delivered. The amazing hospital staff. Except for the one gal that came in like a tornado, turning on the overhead lights and yelling like crazy. (And then Dustin telling her to get the hell out and turn off the effin lights.) Margaret picking up her cell phone to call for someone to bring her a Diet Coke. And finding out later that Dustin thought she was calling the OB to request a c-section! Me looking at Amy and telling her I just can’t do it anymore. Her telling me that I AM doing it. Nurse asking me if I want to know the number; me saying yes even though I’m immediately thinking no. Luckily Dustin and Amy exchange “the look” with the nurse and no one tells me. Good thing too because this labor was a slow progression too – I found out later I was only 4cm at 6pm and still only 6cm then at 9pm. Margaret elbow-deep at one point “moving furniture” to help this boy along. Margaret elbow-deep when her cell phone rings. Oh, and she answered it! Amy hunting down Margaret to ask for a dose of Fentanyl to help take the edge off; Margaret blessedly giving it to me then, and then one more dose later on – it wasn’t until the second dose that I felt any hint of relief. Me never saying the word Epidural and being so amazed at giving birth without one. Amy telling me yet again that I AM doing it. :) Me wanting to crawl under the bed and just disappear. Me wanting to take the clock off the wall and throw it out the window so I would stop thinking about how long this was taking. Looking at Dustin and just being simply grateful that he was there with me in such a supportive role. Amy pumping in the other room for her own little one at home still gives me a giggle. Amy telling me that I’m going to get to write my own story for ICAN, the cesarean awareness group.
Just like everyone said, the last hour was the most intense. Even in the moment, I thought that when Margaret said that he was “right there” that he’d be out in a push or two. A dozen or so huge pushes later and I was spent. Exhausted, crying, all of it. But then, eleven-ish hours after my water broke, there he was.
Elliott Johnson Naughton
Born 5/2/10 (his due date!) at 1:42am
Seven pounds, 15 ounces; 20¼ inches long
(Olivia was 6 pounds, 10 ounces; also 20¼ inches long.)
As with Olivia, we are in constant awe of this little man.
We are over the moon.
That last push was unlike anything I could have ever imagined, and then, he was part of this big crazy world! It took a minute before he started crying, and Amy told me and Dustin later that his umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck three times – ugh. APGARs were totally fine though. I pulled him up to me and just snuggled that boy. A full head of dark dark hair, and immediately I said how much like Olivia he looked. Still now, weeks later, they’re “twins”. Margaret asked Dustin if he wanted to cut the cord - no. Amy got to do it instead - her first cord-cutting as a doula. I love it. Then the nurses took him to wrap him in a blanket (no bath, thank you very much) and give him the token little stocking hat, and then Margaret told them to take the hat back off so she could see all of that hair again. :)
Margaret finished up everything that I needed to start my own recovery (oh, heavens, I thought that part would NEVER be over either) and went on home around 3am. Amy stuck around to make sure we were truly okay – Dustin and I were both a bit pale and woozy (Dustin had heard the word “placenta” a little too often at this point) – and then she headed home to get some much deserved rest herself. We were moved downstairs to the Recovery floor around 4:30am, after they made me get up and go pee. Who knew THAT would be so hard! Not only did I have pee-anxiety with the sweet nurse standing right next to me in all of my exhaustion, but all of the up and down movement of walking around made me super light-headed. Sweet nurse scavenged a couple of premade sandwiches for us to tide us over before breakfast and I devoured them. (This, after drinking the freeze pops that we’d brought bc they weren’t frozen, although the smartwater with electrolytes somehow was.)
Around 5am, finally there’s sweet silence. E’s asleep, as is Dustin. They both worked hard. I’m so wired on my own adrenaline that I can’t even close my eyes. And so I’m there, in our room overlooking the downtown sunrise, smiling at my dear husband, the father of our two phenomenal children, and staring at this newest addition, wondering how I am this blessed.
Like Olivia, Elliott was jaundiced, which made our hospital stay longer than it should have been. At one point, we think his bilirubin levels are finally stable and they go ahead and discharge me but make no hurry to get us out as we’re still waiting on Elliott’s discharge. A couple of hours later, E’s bloodwork comes back to say that his levels are still too high and that he needs to stay another night. WHAT?! Hours later, after talking to practically everyone involved with the Mother/Baby floors, they finally agree to let us stay one more night “under the radar”. I immediately start crying when they tell us – the very last thing I wanted to do was to leave this boy at the hospital and then go home without him.
When he’s finally discharged too, we pack up all of the randomness that one accumulates by being in a hospital but not being “sick” – Dustin easily made four trips to the car. On the way home, we take Elliott to the chiropractor so that we can both get an adjustment. I’ve walked such a small amount in those handful of days that I can barely walk up the flight of stairs to Dr.Chris’ office. But the adjustment felt wonderful, and I know we needed it. That, and the trip to the McDonald’s drive-through, and I feel half human again.
Finally home! Dustin and I have orchestrated the whole thing. Grandma Sue knows we’re on our way but hasn’t told Olivia. Dustin goes inside first to get the video camera and then gives me the go-ahead. I walk in holding Elliott, and Olivia is just beaming. She can hardly talk she is so excited to see us and to meet her tiny little brother. I hope they both cherish this video – girl meets boy – it is ADORABLE.
We’ll spend months (years!) finding our stride with two kids, but they are incredible little people, and we love them beyond words. I keep reminding myself that I have chosen this life, and every day a piece of it just amazes me. This family that we’re building is truly our own.
We are four kind and loving souls, and for that, forever, I am profoundly grateful.
