My Birth Story

My dear, sweet, beautiful Camilla has arrived and my heart is so full of love for this perfect little spirit that has just entered my world. Every little smile, every coo, and every cry melts my heart. Her first week of life has been the best of mine! She is so sweet and so happy and I just can’t stop staring at her. She has these deep ocean blue eyes that open wide and stare around at the world as if she is taking it all in, a cute little button nose that I cant stop touching, and the most gorgeous smiles you could ever imagine (and she gives them so often!) I am so grateful that she arrived safely into this world and that our Heavenly Father has entrusted Ben and I with her protection and care. What a blessing!

So many people are asking that I share my birth story and I feel like writing it out is the best way to share it with everyone and also a therapeutic way for me to come to terms with it. It’s so difficult to find the words to describe the tremendous amount of emotions that are running through me as I reflect on all that happened on Camilla’s birthday. It was nothing like I expected.

I was 40 weeks and 2 days pregnant on Sunday afternoon, August 26th, 2012. I was so excited to meet Camilla and had been anxiously awaiting any signs that labor might be starting soon! I went to the bathroom and noticed what they call “bloody show” – some light bleeding that is a sign of cervical dilation. I was so excited! I wasn’t sure yet how soon labor would come on but I was just glad that the signs were there. I called a couple of friends and spent the day finishing up some projects. Sunday night, I went to bed around midnight and between that time and 6am I had consistent, mild contractions. They were light enough that I was able to sleep in that twilight mode where you are aware that there is a discomfort but it’s not a big enough deal to get out of bed and do anything about it. You know, kind of like when you hold your pee in your sleep for 8 hours! ☺ At 6am Ben woke up to leave for work and I told him what was happening. He asked if he should stay home and I told him no. I didn’t know for certain that I was in labor yet and I didn’t want him to waste any of his time-off for nothing. Within 10 minutes everything changed. 5 minutes later, he asked me again and I told him to go but that I would call if things changed. 5 minutes after that he asked me again and I told him to call the midwife and my mom. I was sure.

So at this point I bet many of you are asking yourselves “Midwife!?” Yes, I planned the most beautiful homebirth for my Camilla. I wanted to birth her in a calm and peaceful environment. I wanted to relax so that she would be relaxed. I planned to light candles and play music as I labored. I planned for a completely natural birthing experience because I knew it was the safest, healthiest plan for both of us. I planned to push her out in a tub of warm water so that I could have some natural pain relief and so that she could have a soft transition from the womb into the world. I planned for her daddy to catch her, for him to lay her immediately on my chest after she was born, and for the cord to be left attached to her until it was completely done pulsing so that she could benefit from all of the extra blood and disease fighting cells that are transferred to babies during that time. I planned to begin breastfeeding just minutes after birth. I planned to see the placenta in which she had lived all this time. I looked forward to the recovery period at home, in my own bed, with my family. I wanted to eat a huge delicious meal as a celebration after she was born… I could go on and on but you get the picture…

Anyway, we were at the part where I told Ben to call the midwife and my mom. Soon after, our midwife Beah and my mom both arrived. Beah checked my cervix and confirmed that I was in early labor and was dilated to 1cm. She was on her way out to her office in Berkeley but told us to call her if anything changed. Nicole, our other midwife, who would be working alongside Beah, would be there in an hour. Ten minutes later, my water broke and Beah turned around and came right back. Interestingly enough, this early stage was the scariest of the whole experience for me. Everything I had heard and read said that in early labor you should feel happy and excited that your baby is coming soon. I expected to feel perfectly normal with mild contractions here and there that slowly would get stronger. In my experience though, within minutes I went from light contractions to hard ones, a painful vaginal check, my water breaking, and my body shaking uncontrollably. At this point I got really nervous. I wondered if I would be able to handle labor if this was “just the beginning”. Once the initial shock wore off though, things started to feel the way I thought they would.

The next 36 HOURS!! were kind of a blur. I continued to labor throughout the rest of the day on Monday, then all through the night, and then through most of the day on Tuesday. During this time I remember only certain pieces of what happened but I could not put them in chronological order for you. Throughout the time I was laboring, my contractions would be 2-3 minutes apart and then they would taper off and be 7-8 minutes apart and then they’d be 5 minutes apart, then 2 minutes, then 8-10 minutes… this continued the entire time. At one point we filled the birth pool because we truly believed the baby was about to be born but, again, the contractions eventually slowed. We tried everything to make them consistent. In early labor, I tried dancing around my living room to Pandora’s 90’s music station (Haha! That was actually the most fun I had in labor!) ☺. Later, when contractions were strong, we tried using a breast pump, which worked at bringing on the contractions and making them closer together, but like every other time, they would taper off shortly after taking the pump off. Eventually, after some reluctance, I agreed to try castor oil, which is supposed to help loosen up the cervix. We mixed it with ice cream and I ate it up but my labor still wasn’t speeding up. Eventually, at some point on Tuesday, Beah checked me again and I was 8cm dilated. Beah asked me if she could please give me some IV fluids since my body had been working so hard and I had thrown up everything I had ate/drank. I told her that she could but that I wanted it OUT when it was time to get in the pool and push. At some point (I think around this time) she had mentioned the possibility of going to the hospital and I said “what is the hospital going to do for me that I can’t do here!?!” I think I took her by surprise. Partly because of my ability to argue and reason despite being in transition and partly because of my determination to deliver this baby the way I intended, never for a second thinking of the hospital or an epidural as a possibility. So I continued to labor… I guess this is where I was in “transition” but honestly, I believe that I had hit that transition feeling so many times over the course of my labor that this part didn’t feel any more intense than the rest of it. I didn’t remember this but my midwife later told me that I was in transition/active labor with contractions 2 minutes apart for a good 3 hours. At the end of those three hours, I had a contraction that felt different from the others. A pushing contraction?? YES!!! The next one came with an even stronger urge to push and so I let everyone know… “I need to push!” I wasn’t able to show my emotions at this point but in my mind there was no fear as I switched to pushing. I was just so happy that I had made it to this point (finally!) and that I was going to be able to push my baby out now. Beah advised that I forgo getting into the pool at that point because my water had been broken for so long and we needed to minimize the risk of infection. So I laid down on a mattress on my living room floor and I pushed… and pushed… and pushed… for 5 HOURS!!! The baby was stuck. She was coming down face up with the side of her head presenting first. Beah had me turn to my side in hopes that it would encourage the baby to turn. A couple hours later I was pushing with all my strength and… nothing. The baby’s head had already begun molding in the wrong spot. Later my mom told me that while I was lying on my side, Beah took her into the kitchen and said, “Sometimes, as midwives, we end up walking a line between allowing the mother to try living her dream of a homebirth and just exposing her to torture. We are walking that line right now”. In other words, the concern that the baby was indeed very very stuck was a reality and my incredible midwife was allowing me to try everything I could to make it happen so that, should it not, I would be able to heal emotionally. At the end of the 5 hours there came the turning point. I was pushing with all my strength and finally Beah put her hand on my foot and said, “Robyn, you’ve done everything you can. Sometimes, a little help is needed. You’re baby is molding in the wrong spot on the head and her positioning is all-wrong. My medical advice at this point is that we go to the hospital and that we try an epidural in hopes that it will help relax and loosen up the bones so that the baby can come down.” I yelled out in frustration, “Why won’t my body just do what it’s supposed to do!!??” I was so determined. With the next contraction I pushed and cried and truly used every ounce of energy I could find to push the baby down. Still, nothing. I remember laying there looking at the faces of each person of my labor team. First there was Ben. He looked heart-broken. I could tell that watching me had been so emotionally taxing on him. He needed this to be over. Then there was Nicole. She looked so incredibly exhausted. When I saw her face I realized for the first time how long we had all been working and how tired my team must be. Then there was Beah. She looked concerned. She is one of the most experienced Midwife in the whole Bay Area. She has delivered over 3000 babies over the past 30 years in hospitals, birthing centers, and homes. She knows what she’s doing and she looked worried. I knew I could trust her judgment and I knew she would never express unwarranted concern. Her goal was the same as mine. Then there was my mom. She had so much love in her eyes and gently said, “Robyn, listen to your midwives”. In that moment, in that room full of tear-filled eyes, I knew that they were right. I knew that we had exhausted all measures and that it was time to let go of my dream and do what was now the "new" best for my baby. My heart broke.

For a few minutes I pulled it together as I barked orders on what we needed to bring…. “I need that brown paper bag! It has all my postpartum supplies in it! We need that stack of papers in the box… It has all our insurance/pediatrician information in it”. Then I was ready to go. I had the choice between heading to Valley Care Hospital, which was our local hospital just 10 minutes away, and going to Alta Bates Hospital in Berkeley, which is much more “homebirth/natural birth friendly”. We weren’t sure that Valley Care would be open to the idea of an epidural and an attempt for vaginal birth this late into labor, so I chose to endure the 45 minute car ride to Berkeley in hopes that I would be given that chance. My mom had called my dad so that he could drive since she was not emotionally stable enough to do it herself. Since I was pushing a baby out, Beah had to ride with me, which meant Ben had to drive her car alone. (Later he told me how glad he was to have had that moment alone. He was able to call a good friend of his and release some of his tension) There I was, still hooked to an IV with the bag hanging from the hook in the minivan, pushing. In this moment I felt so defeated. I felt abandoned by God and angry that he would design my body for this purpose and then not allow the birthing process to happen. I had tried to be positive for so long and I was losing hope. I was kneeling on the seat backwards bracing it with my arms. I could see Ben behind us and he was so upset. I wished I could be next to him to comfort him. Beah had told Ben that if he saw the minivan pull over that he should pull over too because it meant I was having the baby. Yikes! I wanted a natural birth, but I can honestly say that I was not excited at the thought of giving birth in the minivan on the side of the freeway. Luckily, my dad was going 90mph and we made it to the hospital. Beah checked me one last time to see if there was any change… nothing. (If there had been a change we would have gone to the midwifery practice that was right next door to the hospital to deliver the baby there).

Everything happened so fast at the hospital. My midwife (who has worked at Alta Bates Hospital at one time) knew all of the ins and outs and was able to bypass the registration until later and get me straight to where I needed to be. Before I knew it I was hooked up to a new IV and ready to go and the anesthesiologist arrived within minutes. I struggled to get into position for him to administer the epidural as my body continued to involuntarily push the baby out. My pushing contractions were right on top of each other and I wasn’t sure how I would ever sit still for long enough for him to do the epidural. After the next contraction I told him to go for it… fast! For a moment I remembered hearing from other moms that this was supposed to be painful. I mentally prepared myself to be uncomfortable but to my surprise I didn’t feel a thing!! Nothing. I had to ask him if he had done it yet. Wow. Epidurals are a total escape from dealing with labor. Moms who have had epidural births need to quit lying about how painful birth is and stop scaring all the moms to be! ☺ Drugs make labor a piece of cake. Granted, by then my body had pretty much gone through the entire birthing process and my body’s natural pain-killing endorphins had fully kicked in. Anyway, then we waited.

After a while, the doctor came in to check the progress. You guessed it… nothing! The epidural had no effect and the baby was still stuck. The doctor looked surprised. He looked at my midwife and said “this baby is not even at station 1 yet!” and my midwife replied with a quiet “I know”. It was that moment that I realized how amazing my midwife truly was. She had known exactly what was going on but never once said anything that might worry or discourage me. She allowed me to continue to have faith in myself and give it all I had for as long as I could. She believed in me too and stayed hopeful the entire time that things might change and begin to progress. At the same time, she was wise enough to know when it was time to go to the hospital and get some help but she waited until we had truly tried everything. I am so grateful for this because knowing that the interventions were truly needed and that there was nothing more we could have done will allow me to heal emotionally from what happened next.

The doctor looked at me and said, “I’m not going to try and play the hero here. Your baby is so high and poorly positioned that if I were to use forceps I would be risking serious damage to both you and your baby. You really need a c-section.” I think a piece of me died inside at that point. How could it come to this? My peaceful and natural homebirth was now a c-section at the hospital? I started to wonder why all of this was happening to me when the chances and risks had all been so small. During my last couple of weeks of pregnancy I had broke out in PUPPS. It’s a horribly itchy rash that a few lucky women get during pregnancy to which the only cure is delivery. It usually starts on the stomach and then spreads all over the body. It literally makes you want to rip your skin off and there were times that I fantasized about cutting off limbs. Chances of getting PUPPS: 1 in 100 with 70% of that 1% being women who are pregnant with boys (not me) and another percentage of that being women who are pregnant with multiples (also not me). Ok, so if you’re no good at math I just confused the heck out of you. In other words, my chance of getting PUPPS was less than .03%. Why am I telling you this? To explain to you why my mind went to the dark place that it did when the doctor said “c-section”. Bear with me… They say most first time moms have an average labor time of 12 hours and that the average pushing time is 20 minutes to 1 hour. Not me! The transfer rate to the hospital with the midwifery practice I was with was less than 20% and most of the transfers were women who wanted pain medication or who had long labors to the point of exhaustion and needed to rest. It was a somewhat small chance of transfer and yet there I was at the hospital. I’m not sure how many women don’t respond to epidurals but I’m willing to bet that most do. I didn’t. The c-section rate for the midwifery practice I was with was between 1%-2%. So of the 5000+ deliveries they’ve attended, only about 75 of them resulted in a c-section and I was one of them. So when the doctor told me I needed a c-section, I was crushed. I was angry with myself for having been so naïve to have only prepared myself for a natural homebirth. To have believed that because the chance was small that it was non-existent. I had purposefully avoided any difficult birth stories, any videos of c-sections, anything really that was contrary to my ideal birth plan. I cried. I panicked. Not for myself but for my baby. I wanted her to get all of the natural endorphins that come from a vaginal delivery. I wanted her cord to remain attached so that she would benefit from all of the extra blood and the disease-fighting cells that come with the last pulses of cord blood. I wanted her to be laid on my chest so that she would have that amazing skin-to-skin contact and be able to bond and breastfeed with me easily. I knew that these things would no longer be possible and again I was heartbroken.

Once I agreed to the c-section, knowing there was nothing more I could do, the doctor explained to me the risks of major abdominal surgery… “1 in 150,000 risk of death.” My mind went numb and I thought to myself that after all of these ways that I had been “the statistic” then why not now? I might die. Obviously, this sounds a bit dramatic now but during my birth experience this is where I was hitting rock bottom. I had gone from 100% confidence in childbirth, in my body, in my plan, to feeling hopeless, helpless, exhausted, naïve, and numb. So as they wheeled me into the operating room I wondered if I would ever come out. They prepped me for surgery by hooking me up to all kinds of tubes and monitors, testing my feeling to give me the right amount of anesthesia, etc… I was so happy when a sweet nurse came to my side to double-check what I wanted for my baby. I struggled to remember what all of the standard hospital procedures were but I remembered. I told her that we wanted no Hep B vaccine, no eye antibiotics, no bathing her (the vernix coating that babies are born with is so good for their skin and rubs in like a cream). Then she said, “You don’t want the Vitamin K vaccine either right?” But I told her that I changed my mind on that one. I wanted the Vitamin K shot and was so glad that I had spent so much time learning what each procedure was for and why they were done on babies. I knew that the Vitamin K was to help with clotting to reduce the risk of hemorrhage, which existed in certain circumstances, including a long pushing stage (like mine). I knew that there was now a good reason to give it to my baby.

Then they began surgery. I was so glad when the anesthesiologist told me that they had already begun. I would have hated knowing that they were about to cut. Ben was by my side, holding my hand. That’s when I heard the most precious sound in the world – an itty-bitty beautiful little baby cry! I told Ben to go and stay with her. I cried what were finally tears of joy. I was so happy! They took her to the back of the room for what felt like an eternity and I was so impatient during that time. I wanted to hold her and see her. I listened to her beautiful cry as they continued surgery. Finally, the nurse brought her over to me. I couldn’t hold her but we had such a sweet moment together. Her eyes were wide open and she was gazing around the room. I said, “hi baby” and she immediately changed her focus and looked right into my eyes. I don’t know how to explain it but I truly felt that she knew me and I knew her. She knew my voice and felt comforted by hearing it. I kissed her little forehead and cheeks. I was in love.

The nurse and Ben took Camilla to the nursery to get weighed and get her Vitamin K shot while the surgeons finished with me. As they worked it was taking much longer that the 20 minutes they had told me the procedure would take. I could hear them trying to figure out where a piece of me belonged and they were concerned about the amount of blood I had lost as well as whether my kidney had been damaged during the surgery. I wasn’t surprised and I wondered what would go wrong next. They called in another specialist to get a second opinion and were finally able to put me back together. It took over an hour! The complications were due to the fact that my body had already gone through the birthing process and my cervix was soft and fully dilated so when the tissue was cut it basically fell apart. The doctors warned me that recovery would be hard because my body had just gone through two birthing processes over the past 42 hours. Ultrasounds were ordered to check my kidney the next day and everything was fine. I became very anemic from the blood loss so they also pumped me full of iron, which funny enough I remember as being one of the most uncomfortable things. It stings like crazy when it’s going into your vain and you stay hooked up to it for 4 hours. Plus I was trying to lift and breastfeed my little newborn with that hand, which is hard enough without the use of your abs.

Anyway, back to surgery. They finished up and I went into the recovery room where they finally handed me my precious baby and I began breastfeeding. She was so hungry and latched on right away with no trouble. Camilla’s grandparents each came to see her in the recovery room one by one and then we were taken to our hospital room. I was so glad that I got a huge private room and bathroom all to myself. They even brought in a cot for Ben to sleep on. That’s where we stayed for the next 3 nights. It was nice to have all the help from the nurses – reminding me to drink water, bringing me food, monitoring my baby and I, keeping track of my pain medications for me. I survived on Ibuprofen alone as I refused the narcotics. My body doesn’t take those strong painkillers well. I decided I would rather feel a little more dull pain than vomit with an abdominal incision, which would be way more painful and uncomfortable. We did a lot of sleeping and practiced breastfeeding. Despite the c-section, my milk came in on the morning of the third day, which made me so happy. We were also discharged from the hospital that day, as everyone seemed to be doing really well. On our way home Ben and I talked about everything that had happened. We were both anxious about returning home to what we called “the scene of the crime”. I thought about how we left everything in such a hurry and now we were returning to the scene of the homebirth that never happened. Tears filled my eyes as we approached our home. We opened our door and to our surprise the whole house was clean. Everything was put away. The birth tub had been taken down, all the laundry was washed, the floors were vacuumed, and the tables dusted. In place of everything were beautiful flowers, baked desserts, balloons, streamers, and a big banner across the ceiling that read “Welcome Home Baby Fudge!” (That was our name for Camilla while she was in the womb – a clever creation of my 7-year-old brother Jacob). On our door was a big poster that read “We Love You”, which had been signed by family and friends. Again, we shed tears of joy. We felt so loved and the act of kindness made for such a warm and happy homecoming. Our hearts were full.

So, what have I learned from all this? Well, I began recording this story at 1 week and it has now been 5. I was so teary and emotional in the beginning that I kept stopping myself from writing it. Now that I have had some time I am beginning to see the good in it and have been able to refocus my perspective. Yes, that was traumatic and I was startled by how out of control life can become. Yes, my homebirth dream didn’t come true and my labor was much more difficult than anticipated. Yes, this means I am considered a high-risk pregnancy for all my future children, who may not receive the benefits of a natural birth (we’ll see). Yes, my heart is full of fear for future pregnancies. Not for physical pain (it wasn’t really that bad!) but for the emotional toll it took on me. But as hard as all of this seems I know I will heal and when I adjust my focus I realize how lucky I am. How lucky I am that my baby was able to live. My midwife explained that had this happened 100 years ago my baby would have eventually died. How lucky I am that she remained strong and healthy through the entire process. Her heart rate never once dropped and at one point during the pushing stage she was even sleeping through it! How lucky I am that I was able to conceive her in the first place and that she grew into a strong and healthy baby all the way until 40 weeks and 4 days gestation. Not everyone is so lucky. How lucky I am that the only hardships of my pregnancy were morning sickness and PUPPS and that neither one of these things posed any threat to my baby or me. We were able to enjoy the 10 months together travelling to New Zealand, Fiji, Las Vegas, and New York City. I never experienced swelling or heartburn. How lucky am I that I was able to choose a homebirth for myself and that I had such amazing and comfortable prenatal care. My midwives visited me in my home and spent hours upon hours monitoring me physically and prepping me emotionally for labor. They were so thorough with their care for me. How lucky I am that I have such an AMAZING loving and supportive husband who stayed by my side and continues to stay by my side in hard times. He is my best friend. How lucky am I that God gives me challenges to help me grow stronger. I had written a quote on an inspiration board in my home to help me through labor. It read, “Life only demands from you the strength you posses”. I never realized that I had so much strength in me until this challenge. I am also able to help and relate to so many different women now. I feel like I had three birthing experiences – my homebirth, my epidural, and my c-section birth. How lucky am I that my world is surrounded by such loving family and friends who will jump at the chance to help me when I need it. I could never have got through the past few weeks without them. I could go on and on… I am SO lucky. There are so many tragic events that people endure in this life that when I put this challenge of mine in perspective it suddenly seems so petty and I feel nothing but overwhelming gratitude. I am so so blessed.