It’s been 10 weeks and 4 days since my little guy was born. I haven’t written his birth story yet because I’ve struggled on and off with it, and I just wasn’t ready. I still don’t know if I’m ready, but I’m going to give it a try. The birth of Lincoln was both the most amazing and miraculous moment of my life, as well as the most painful and traumatic. So, let’s get right into it!
March 11, 2016
1:15am: I got up to use the restroom for the second time that night, very normal. This time was a little different though because I was done peeing, but liquid kept coming out. In my half asleep daze it took a moment to dawn on me, but then it clicked – MY WATER BROKE! Leading up to this day I had talked to everyone I could and asked them the question “How will I know when I go into labor?” I was so concerned about knowing because my father lives 4+ hours away and I wanted to give him enough advanced notice so he could get here for me and the baby. Everyone I walked to would tell me “Trust [me], you’ll know.” Not very comforting, but at the moment I DID just know. I immediately went into panic mode. All my reading, research, birth classes, and meditation went out the window. I stuffed a pad in my panties, ran downstairs as to not wake my husband, and called my Dad. I told him my water broke and asked him “what do I do?” Of course he was rational, and told me to go wake up my husband. Oh yeah!
5:00am: It took a while for me to start having contractions. They were mild at first. What I’d consider to be strong menstrual like cramps. In my birth class this is the time we were instructed to rest as much as possible. It was only going to get more intense, after all. There was no way I could relax though my adrenaline was pumping, and my waters kept leaking so much. It got to the point where I just stuffed a hand towel in my pants and called it good. My contractions starting getting more intense. I was trying my hardest to time my contractions, but I couldn’t focus on that so I left that up to my husband. We texted our doula and told her I was in labor. She suggested I get in the shower to help ease the pain. This ended up being a bad idea for me, personally. Standing during contractions was miserable, and the shower made me so hot I felt like I was going to pass out. I found it most helpful to tune the world out, lay in bed on my side, and breathe through my contractions. As they intensified I couldn’t lay still and I would start rocking up on to my hands and knees, or bicycling my legs while laying down to help distract myself from the pain.
7:00am: After having been in labor for nearly six hours I felt like I had a good system for managing my contractions. My stepson was awake and getting ready for school so my husband was helping him with that. My father in law came to pick up my stepson, and they decided he could take the day off school so he could come meet the baby after he’s born, and my stepson left for their house. I was in reality only enough to feel a slight wave of remorse that I didn’t get to hug him and kiss him one last time as our only child, but I was shut in our bedroom flopping around on the bed and trying to time my contractions on my own. Shortly before 8am my husband returned to our room, looked at my contraction counter, and flat out said “We have to go now.” Apparently they were really close together, and he knew the baby wouldn’t be too long. Thank goodness for our birth classes. He was so prepared!
8:00am: We arrived at our Birth Center shortly after 8am. Riding the 20minutes in the car to the Birth Center was one of the most miserable things. I only had 3 contractions on the way there, but having to be confined to the car seat during them made it hard to manage the pain. We arrived at the birth center at the same time as our doula. I was put at ease knowing I had my husband, doula, and midwife there now to support and coach me. I declined progress checks as part of my birth plan so there was no way to know how close the baby was to being born, but my contractions indicated it would be soon. It was suggested I try to labor on the toilet as some women find that helpful. For me – No. I needed to be laying or supported while sitting. It took maybe 20 minutes or so after we arrived at the birth center before the birthing tub was full and ready for me. I was worried I wouldn’t like a water birth since the shower had made me feel so ill, but as soon as I got into the tub I knew that it was magic. The warm water helped relax me in between contractions, having my back supported while also having somewhere to wedge my feet, and the buoyancy of the water took a lot of the pressure away as well.
10:00am: Shortly before 10am I entered what I believe was my transitional point of labor. My contraction were coming fast, they were strong, and they were lasting much longer than before. I was second guessing myself, and my choice to have a natural drug-free birth. My husband was a great coach, and kept offering me water to keep my hydrated. My doula was so soft and reassuring with each contraction and she told me that baby was crowning. I didn’t believe it at first, but with the next few contractions there was no denying it. The ring of fire lived up to its name. Baby’s head was about a 1/3 of the way out for a couple contractions, and my midwife was monitoring his heartbeat between every contraction. I wasn’t paying attention to any of them. I retreated into myself, into my mind, and tried my best to manage the pain. It’s only temporary, I kept telling myself. I’m going to meet my baby.
10:14am: One big contraction, and I pushed with all the energy I could muster. It was time for my baby to be born. I sensed it. As my contraction trailed off I could feel he wasn’t coming out so I took a deep breath and pushed! My baby was born at 10:14am in one hard push. My husband caught him, and lifted him onto my chest. The feeling in my heart at that moment is indescribable. I looked up into my husband’s eyes, and down at our child, and I felt whole. Complete. In my mind I thanked God for such a wonderful and beautiful gift. I held my baby boy, I stroked his hair, and he let out his little cries. I could’ve stayed in that moment forever. Lincoln James was here!
10:30am: I didn’t find out until later, but just before that last big contraction that Lincoln’s heart rate had dropped dramatically. The midwife warned my husband that if he wasn’t born in the contraction that he was they’d have to help him out. Did I know that? Did my body sense it was time and that’s how I mustered the energy to birth him right then? I don’t know, but I’m thankful I did. I didn’t get to bask in the euphoria of childbirth for long. Moments after Lincoln was born my midwife requested I get out of the tub, as there was more blood than normal and she wanted to check for tearing. I moved to the bed and laid down with my baby on my chest, and every sweet, beautiful, and perfect thing about the day my baby was born was taken from me. Luckily we were able to take a moment to allow my husband to cut Lincoln’s umbilical cord.
10:45am: I didn’t tear, which was good, but I wouldn’t stop bleeding. According to my midwife my uterus would not contract to help the bleeding stop. After multiple shots of Pitocin, three cytotec tablets, and a catheter placed to try and stop the bleeding paramedics were called in to rush me to the hospital. I had a third degree postpartum hemorrhage. My baby was taken from my arms, and the paramedics carried me into the ambulance and left my husband and baby behind to follow when they were able. I felt as though I was having an out of body experience. I could see myself cold and alone in the ambulance. I felt myself screaming for my baby, and there were hot tears running down my face. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. It wasn’t what I had envisioned. My natural childbirth was supposed to end with my husband and I laying with our baby, a quiet “golden hour” after birth, a perfect first latch and start into breastfeeding, and I got none of this. I felt robbed; betrayed by my own body.
The rest of the day: I don’t know what time everything happened. It’s all a blur. When we arrived at the hospital the OB on call came in and started manually trying to remove the clots from my uterus while nurses were massaging my belly to try and get my uterus to contract. More Pitocin. There was blood everywhere. With no pain medication the feeling of the OB reaching up into my uterus and pulling clots out was worse than childbirth. I was screaming and cursing at her to stop. I couldn’t handle it. It was determined I would need to go into surgery as soon as possible to stop the bleeding. I was offered a consent form to sign. They were going to try and place a balloon into my uterus to apply counter pressure to help stop the bleeding, however if that didn’t work they warned me they may need to make an incision to get into my uterus and suture the wound to stop the bleeding, and if that didn’t work the worst case scenario would be me leaving surgery having had a hysterectomy. How did this happen? How did I end up here? I’ve never had surgery, never been majorly sick, I am a healthy young lady, and worked so hard to remain healthy and prepare myself for this birth. Was I don’t having kids? What if I woke up and the ability to have more was taken from me? What was the alternative – bleeding to death? I signed the consent.
When I was taken into the operating room it was everything you see on TV. It was way too bright, a table in the middle of the room that reminded me of a crucifix. I was transferred to the table, and it was explained to me how they were going to put me to sleep. I was alone, cold, and staring up at the bright lights above me even though they were blindingly bright. I couldn’t move, I felt as if I couldn’t breathe, and I used every mental tool I could think of to just numb myself. My mind, my heart – block it all out. I didn’t want to feel anything. I didn’t want to care. Just let me fall asleep and never wake up. The doctor placed the mask over my face, told me to breathe deeply and count backwards from ten, and in my head I tried to send all my love and apologies out to my husband and my fragile little baby boy. Hours into motherhood and I was already failing them.
As if it was only moments later I was waking up in the recovery room. At first I couldn’t see, and I couldn’t breathe. There was so much saliva in my mouth and my throat hurt from having been intubated. Without thinking I rolled to my side and started coughing and spitting. I later found out my husband had been standing there, and I felt terrible for that, but I wasn’t fully conscious to know what I was doing. It took a little while, but I was finally able to hold my baby. His warm soft skin against my chest felt like the most amazing gift. My dad had arrived while I was in surgery, and seeing him instantly brought tears to my eyes. I thank God every day for my father, and that I am lucky enough to have him there supporting me. My husband was amazing, and was so strong during this whole thing as well. My doula and midwife remained by my side until I was released from the recovery area, and I look back and feel so blessed to have had the birth team that I did.
It took a while before I wanted to know what happened in surgery. My lower half was sore, I could feel tubes coming out of me, and I couldn’t really move very well. I found out the balloon – the best case scenario – was successful and the bleeding was under control. I was transferred to a room, and had to stay in the hospital for the next 24hours under observation so they could monitor my bleeding. The pain of the whole ordeal didn’t stop after surgery. I had five bags of Pitocin all together, two IV sites (which ended up being three as they had to relocate one), Antibiotics, liquid Iron, and my catheter and balloon were removed on the second day without any pain medication. Overall it was unpleasant, and I had lost 2 liters of blood altogether. I felt weak, dizzy, and sick. It was no longer about me though but rather about my baby, and all I wanted to do was get home and care for him. My husband and my father stayed with Lincoln and me in the hospital until I was discharged. On the second day we came home, and I cried the entire ride home. I don’t know exactly why but it was a mix of emotions – I was happy to be going home, I was in pain and weak, I was angry about how things went, and I was terrified that I now had this perfect little human to take care of. Could I do it? I was so unsure.
Here we are, though! 10 weeks in. Lincoln was 13lbs 4oz at his 8 week checkup, and 23 inches long. He’s a big boy, and a total joy. I am struggling with postpartum depression and anxiety, a lot of it triggered by my traumatic birth I’m sure, but I have been admitted to an outpatient psychiatric group and I am working to get it under control. I can’t express enough how lucky I am that my husband and my father were there for me and were rock solid support through the whole ordeal. My stepson has been wonderful, and he adores his little brother too. I thank God every day for my family! Will we try for more kids? That remains to be seen, and right now we are just going to love the ones we have while I heal emotionally.
March 11, 2016
1:15am: I got up to use the restroom for the second time that night, very normal. This time was a little different though because I was done peeing, but liquid kept coming out. In my half asleep daze it took a moment to dawn on me, but then it clicked – MY WATER BROKE! Leading up to this day I had talked to everyone I could and asked them the question “How will I know when I go into labor?” I was so concerned about knowing because my father lives 4+ hours away and I wanted to give him enough advanced notice so he could get here for me and the baby. Everyone I walked to would tell me “Trust [me], you’ll know.” Not very comforting, but at the moment I DID just know. I immediately went into panic mode. All my reading, research, birth classes, and meditation went out the window. I stuffed a pad in my panties, ran downstairs as to not wake my husband, and called my Dad. I told him my water broke and asked him “what do I do?” Of course he was rational, and told me to go wake up my husband. Oh yeah!
5:00am: It took a while for me to start having contractions. They were mild at first. What I’d consider to be strong menstrual like cramps. In my birth class this is the time we were instructed to rest as much as possible. It was only going to get more intense, after all. There was no way I could relax though my adrenaline was pumping, and my waters kept leaking so much. It got to the point where I just stuffed a hand towel in my pants and called it good. My contractions starting getting more intense. I was trying my hardest to time my contractions, but I couldn’t focus on that so I left that up to my husband. We texted our doula and told her I was in labor. She suggested I get in the shower to help ease the pain. This ended up being a bad idea for me, personally. Standing during contractions was miserable, and the shower made me so hot I felt like I was going to pass out. I found it most helpful to tune the world out, lay in bed on my side, and breathe through my contractions. As they intensified I couldn’t lay still and I would start rocking up on to my hands and knees, or bicycling my legs while laying down to help distract myself from the pain.
7:00am: After having been in labor for nearly six hours I felt like I had a good system for managing my contractions. My stepson was awake and getting ready for school so my husband was helping him with that. My father in law came to pick up my stepson, and they decided he could take the day off school so he could come meet the baby after he’s born, and my stepson left for their house. I was in reality only enough to feel a slight wave of remorse that I didn’t get to hug him and kiss him one last time as our only child, but I was shut in our bedroom flopping around on the bed and trying to time my contractions on my own. Shortly before 8am my husband returned to our room, looked at my contraction counter, and flat out said “We have to go now.” Apparently they were really close together, and he knew the baby wouldn’t be too long. Thank goodness for our birth classes. He was so prepared!
8:00am: We arrived at our Birth Center shortly after 8am. Riding the 20minutes in the car to the Birth Center was one of the most miserable things. I only had 3 contractions on the way there, but having to be confined to the car seat during them made it hard to manage the pain. We arrived at the birth center at the same time as our doula. I was put at ease knowing I had my husband, doula, and midwife there now to support and coach me. I declined progress checks as part of my birth plan so there was no way to know how close the baby was to being born, but my contractions indicated it would be soon. It was suggested I try to labor on the toilet as some women find that helpful. For me – No. I needed to be laying or supported while sitting. It took maybe 20 minutes or so after we arrived at the birth center before the birthing tub was full and ready for me. I was worried I wouldn’t like a water birth since the shower had made me feel so ill, but as soon as I got into the tub I knew that it was magic. The warm water helped relax me in between contractions, having my back supported while also having somewhere to wedge my feet, and the buoyancy of the water took a lot of the pressure away as well.
10:00am: Shortly before 10am I entered what I believe was my transitional point of labor. My contraction were coming fast, they were strong, and they were lasting much longer than before. I was second guessing myself, and my choice to have a natural drug-free birth. My husband was a great coach, and kept offering me water to keep my hydrated. My doula was so soft and reassuring with each contraction and she told me that baby was crowning. I didn’t believe it at first, but with the next few contractions there was no denying it. The ring of fire lived up to its name. Baby’s head was about a 1/3 of the way out for a couple contractions, and my midwife was monitoring his heartbeat between every contraction. I wasn’t paying attention to any of them. I retreated into myself, into my mind, and tried my best to manage the pain. It’s only temporary, I kept telling myself. I’m going to meet my baby.
10:14am: One big contraction, and I pushed with all the energy I could muster. It was time for my baby to be born. I sensed it. As my contraction trailed off I could feel he wasn’t coming out so I took a deep breath and pushed! My baby was born at 10:14am in one hard push. My husband caught him, and lifted him onto my chest. The feeling in my heart at that moment is indescribable. I looked up into my husband’s eyes, and down at our child, and I felt whole. Complete. In my mind I thanked God for such a wonderful and beautiful gift. I held my baby boy, I stroked his hair, and he let out his little cries. I could’ve stayed in that moment forever. Lincoln James was here!
10:30am: I didn’t find out until later, but just before that last big contraction that Lincoln’s heart rate had dropped dramatically. The midwife warned my husband that if he wasn’t born in the contraction that he was they’d have to help him out. Did I know that? Did my body sense it was time and that’s how I mustered the energy to birth him right then? I don’t know, but I’m thankful I did. I didn’t get to bask in the euphoria of childbirth for long. Moments after Lincoln was born my midwife requested I get out of the tub, as there was more blood than normal and she wanted to check for tearing. I moved to the bed and laid down with my baby on my chest, and every sweet, beautiful, and perfect thing about the day my baby was born was taken from me. Luckily we were able to take a moment to allow my husband to cut Lincoln’s umbilical cord.
10:45am: I didn’t tear, which was good, but I wouldn’t stop bleeding. According to my midwife my uterus would not contract to help the bleeding stop. After multiple shots of Pitocin, three cytotec tablets, and a catheter placed to try and stop the bleeding paramedics were called in to rush me to the hospital. I had a third degree postpartum hemorrhage. My baby was taken from my arms, and the paramedics carried me into the ambulance and left my husband and baby behind to follow when they were able. I felt as though I was having an out of body experience. I could see myself cold and alone in the ambulance. I felt myself screaming for my baby, and there were hot tears running down my face. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. It wasn’t what I had envisioned. My natural childbirth was supposed to end with my husband and I laying with our baby, a quiet “golden hour” after birth, a perfect first latch and start into breastfeeding, and I got none of this. I felt robbed; betrayed by my own body.
The rest of the day: I don’t know what time everything happened. It’s all a blur. When we arrived at the hospital the OB on call came in and started manually trying to remove the clots from my uterus while nurses were massaging my belly to try and get my uterus to contract. More Pitocin. There was blood everywhere. With no pain medication the feeling of the OB reaching up into my uterus and pulling clots out was worse than childbirth. I was screaming and cursing at her to stop. I couldn’t handle it. It was determined I would need to go into surgery as soon as possible to stop the bleeding. I was offered a consent form to sign. They were going to try and place a balloon into my uterus to apply counter pressure to help stop the bleeding, however if that didn’t work they warned me they may need to make an incision to get into my uterus and suture the wound to stop the bleeding, and if that didn’t work the worst case scenario would be me leaving surgery having had a hysterectomy. How did this happen? How did I end up here? I’ve never had surgery, never been majorly sick, I am a healthy young lady, and worked so hard to remain healthy and prepare myself for this birth. Was I don’t having kids? What if I woke up and the ability to have more was taken from me? What was the alternative – bleeding to death? I signed the consent.
When I was taken into the operating room it was everything you see on TV. It was way too bright, a table in the middle of the room that reminded me of a crucifix. I was transferred to the table, and it was explained to me how they were going to put me to sleep. I was alone, cold, and staring up at the bright lights above me even though they were blindingly bright. I couldn’t move, I felt as if I couldn’t breathe, and I used every mental tool I could think of to just numb myself. My mind, my heart – block it all out. I didn’t want to feel anything. I didn’t want to care. Just let me fall asleep and never wake up. The doctor placed the mask over my face, told me to breathe deeply and count backwards from ten, and in my head I tried to send all my love and apologies out to my husband and my fragile little baby boy. Hours into motherhood and I was already failing them.
As if it was only moments later I was waking up in the recovery room. At first I couldn’t see, and I couldn’t breathe. There was so much saliva in my mouth and my throat hurt from having been intubated. Without thinking I rolled to my side and started coughing and spitting. I later found out my husband had been standing there, and I felt terrible for that, but I wasn’t fully conscious to know what I was doing. It took a little while, but I was finally able to hold my baby. His warm soft skin against my chest felt like the most amazing gift. My dad had arrived while I was in surgery, and seeing him instantly brought tears to my eyes. I thank God every day for my father, and that I am lucky enough to have him there supporting me. My husband was amazing, and was so strong during this whole thing as well. My doula and midwife remained by my side until I was released from the recovery area, and I look back and feel so blessed to have had the birth team that I did.
It took a while before I wanted to know what happened in surgery. My lower half was sore, I could feel tubes coming out of me, and I couldn’t really move very well. I found out the balloon – the best case scenario – was successful and the bleeding was under control. I was transferred to a room, and had to stay in the hospital for the next 24hours under observation so they could monitor my bleeding. The pain of the whole ordeal didn’t stop after surgery. I had five bags of Pitocin all together, two IV sites (which ended up being three as they had to relocate one), Antibiotics, liquid Iron, and my catheter and balloon were removed on the second day without any pain medication. Overall it was unpleasant, and I had lost 2 liters of blood altogether. I felt weak, dizzy, and sick. It was no longer about me though but rather about my baby, and all I wanted to do was get home and care for him. My husband and my father stayed with Lincoln and me in the hospital until I was discharged. On the second day we came home, and I cried the entire ride home. I don’t know exactly why but it was a mix of emotions – I was happy to be going home, I was in pain and weak, I was angry about how things went, and I was terrified that I now had this perfect little human to take care of. Could I do it? I was so unsure.
Here we are, though! 10 weeks in. Lincoln was 13lbs 4oz at his 8 week checkup, and 23 inches long. He’s a big boy, and a total joy. I am struggling with postpartum depression and anxiety, a lot of it triggered by my traumatic birth I’m sure, but I have been admitted to an outpatient psychiatric group and I am working to get it under control. I can’t express enough how lucky I am that my husband and my father were there for me and were rock solid support through the whole ordeal. My stepson has been wonderful, and he adores his little brother too. I thank God every day for my family! Will we try for more kids? That remains to be seen, and right now we are just going to love the ones we have while I heal emotionally.