Baby Birthing Stories; Sharing Is Necessary
I recently had my second child. I know…yeah for me! My husband and I are elated.
When you bring new life into this world, your “story” seems to trump anything baby related. No one really cares what you named your child or if he has all his fingers and toes. Family members and friends are typically more interested in your birthing story.
How did you manage to get that thing out of your body?
It’s important for moms to share their stories and to be grateful. Some women never get the chance to have a birthing story, so if you have one, tell it. Embrace it. Enjoy it.
My first child had such a crazy way of entering the world that I wasn’t sure my second would be able to top it. Boy, was I wrong.
Nori Lemmon, my daughter and first born, had me in hard labor from the first contraction. I planned on delivering her at home, so when my contractions had lasted three minutes apart for a few hours, I contacted my midwife to help me along.
After 18 hours of being stuck at 8cm dilated, my water was manually broken. It was then that I was told I was carrying an abnormal amount of fluid and getting her out may be difficult. I still continued to labor at home.
At the 47th hour of labor with no sign of progression, even after doing lunges up and down my stairwell, my midwife decided I needed to go to the hospital. We managed to hit construction traffic jams on the way there and was blocked out of the main parking garage. Frustrating to say the least.
I was admitted immediately and my real doctor took over for my midwife. Between the IV in my hand blowing up, the misdiagnosis of how much I was dilated and being denied the option to pee in a toilet, my experience at this point simply sucked.
My doc checked me, giving me the green light to push. Five hours later, 54 hours in total, accompanied by me pushing out merconium, I was forced to have a csection.
Against all my plans and wishes, I had the surgery and was able to bring a Nori into this world. She was a happy, healthy 7.5 pounds and 19 inches long, born the day after Mother’s Day, one day after her due date.
After all my birthing plans went out the window with my first, I was determined to have a better experience with my second.
My husband and I enjoyed doing belly casts with both my pregnancies. After he removed the cast at 36 weeks with my son in my belly, I mentioned that I felt funny and proceeded to the bathroom. I knew in that moment that I was in the early stages of labor.
Just like with my first, I was cursed with excessive amounts if fluid which can lead to preterm labor and many other strange complications. In my case with my first, it meant having a csection which ended up being my birthing plan with my second. Only, my scheduled csection was still three weeks away. My actual due date was four.
Nonetheless, my husband and I brought our daughter to my parents house and we headed to the hospital. Luckily there wasn’t any crazy traffic this time.
Upon arriving, I was hooked up to the monitoring system. It showed I was having contraction every two to five minutes. The nurse checked me and I was already three centimeters dilated. It didn’t take long at all for me this time.
The nurse contacted my doctor who responded immediately. I was in the operating room within an hours time.
My epidural started my time in the “O” room. Theanesthesiologist explained that the numbness should start in my toes and work it’s way up to my chest. I, unfortunately, felt numbness in my right kidney area first. I still have a pocket of fluid sitting in my low back where the needle went in wrong.
Once the epidural worked correctly, the doctor proceeded to take my son out. I heard Read Andrew take his first breath and was reassured of his perfect health when the NICU nurse told me her services were no longer needed.
I was excited to hold my son but was denied the satisfaction when a nurse noticed my catheter was filling with blood. The doctor had knicked my bladder during the incision process. They had to put stitches in my bladder once they found where the hole was.
After the chaos calmed down a bit, the doctor shared more rediculous news with me as he stapled my abdomen up. He explained that because of the excess amounts of fluids I was carrying around, and with how large my belly had become, my uterus had welded itself to my abdomen wall along with other organs. My insides had literally grown together. He explained how he would love to unattach them for me at that moment but I had already lost too much blood. Instead, a surgery in the future would be necessary to eliminate obvious pain. And yes, I already have the pain.
50 minutes in the operating room (35 more than anticipated) had finally come to an end. I was wheeled to my room where I was greeted by my handsome husband holding our handsome son.
He nursed immediately. I fell in love.
I went home two days later with my catheter still in. I lived with it for two weeks and am still doing bladder drills to retrain myself how to pee. No one is meant to have a catheter in for as long as I had it for.
Through all the trials and challenges I faced with bringing my kids into this world, I wouldn’t change a single detail of my stories. I love my scars, my battle wounds for becoming a mom. I love my stories, like I went to war for the two most important beings in my world.
I think moms everywhere should be encouraged to share their baby birthing stories. Release your energy by telling your tale. Let the world know how strong us women are and how determined we can be for life to exist, to continue.
Be proud. Be happy.