It’s Supposed to Be the Best Day?

My favorite green sweater is sitting, hung up in the front of my closet. It is the sweater that I wore when I went to the hospital the day I went into labor with my second daughter. Now, it is also the sweater that I wore when I went to the hospital to have a baby and almost didn’t come back home. I haven’t been able to wear it since so it just sits there, hung up. When I think about what happened on that day, I have a hard time remembering it all. I have a constant tugging or need to try and make sense of it or understand it. Sometimes I go through our family group chat, looking at the timestamps on the messages my husband sent when he would give an update because I know he was sending whatever the nurse told him as soon as he could. I look over my lab information because I was being monitored so closely I can see all my levels and results going up and down. I can see when things got really bad. I go through my husband’s photos of our baby girl because I don’t have any of the first 10 hours of her life. I wasn’t there for it. I have to read her medical notes to get a real picture of what she went through because I still don’t think I’ve processed it all. A lot of people say that the day your children are born is the best day of your life, or it’s supposed to be. I’m still trying to figure out why I don’t have that feeling and how to be okay with that.

Baby Girl Number One

When my first daughter was born back in 2018, I felt like my body failed me. My pregnancy went well and I was referred to the low-risk clinic. At around 36 weeks I started measuring big so at 37 weeks they sent me for an ultrasound and my baby girl was rather large!  In order to get things moving along so that she wouldn’t get too much bigger, my doctor did a cervical sweep and a few days later, my water broke. I had taken prenatal classes, read all the books and I knew that I wanted to try my best to have the least amount of interventions possible, while also being open to whatever I needed to do. When we arrived at the hospital, the doctors advised me that since labor didn’t start and my water had broken, the best course of action was to induce me. Induction led to needing an epidural, the epidural led to not being able to move around, not being able to move around led to my baby girl deciding “Eff this- I’m not ready to come out!” and her turning “sunny side up” right when I was about to start pushing. They had to call an OB in to assess the situation and I could tell things were not going to go as I had hoped. She got me to push (though looking back I think she knew it wouldn’t do anything and just wanted to let me try-which I am so grateful for), and I PUSHED. I have never tried so hard for something ever! My baby girl didn’t budge an inch and with each push, her heart rate was going all over the place. The OB said we needed to go for a C-Section. I was so upset. I am such a planner and I tried so hard my whole pregnancy to just go with the flow-the only thing I didn’t want was a C-Section. So off we went. Down the elevator, my husband in some scrubs, me just pissed off, terrified and upset.

On the way down to the OR I felt like I was outside of my body watching what was happening. I was so afraid when I found out we had to go for a C-Section that I think I just shut down. Once we were in the room I remember feeling cold and hearing music playing. My husband appeared by my side and things felt like they happened TO us. I didn’t even know they had started. I just felt this immense pressure relief and there she was, above the curtain. They showed her to me and then took her over to the NICU team to be assessed. She wasn’t crying yet and she was a little sleepy. Then, a few minutes later she was good to go and they laid her on my chest. I couldn’t feel her and I was shaking uncontrollably from all the meds. I couldn’t really hold her yet because my body was so numb. That was so hard. I really wanted that moment of meeting her to be so special and it was a mess. I was so out of it I barely remember. I look at pictures and I can sort of recall what happened, I just remember feeling so angry that I wasn’t able to have that “moment” that we all think we should be having. No skin to skin. No latching right away. No picture of the three of us in the bed, smiling. 

We had to stay longer at the hospital which was not great. She wasn’t eating properly and her blood sugars were off so we had to give her formula on a schedule which was hard. I wanted to try to nurse her and it just wouldn’t work. We came home and I can’t even explain the shock to the system. I was so sick from all the pain meds and different things I had been given that I kept throwing up. I even went back to the hospital because I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. They assured me it was just from all the meds and it would pass. I remember crying on the couch telling my husband that I didn’t think I could ever do this again and I was sorry. He told me that if we just had one baby then that was okay. I felt terrible. She felt like a stranger. It was like someone gave us a random baby and we just had to bring it home. I cried a lot and over the next few weeks, things got a lot better. I healed, she started to latch and we got to know each other. We figured it all out and she and I became best pals. After a couple of years, my husband and I decided we were ready to try and have another baby. 

Baby Girl Number Two

When I got pregnant with my second daughter, I was referred to the high-risk clinic because of my previous C-Section. I was lucky enough to have the same OB who delivered my first baby as well as her colleague who were both wonderful. They were so supportive as I was really hoping to have a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean). I didn’t want the same thing to happen with this pregnancy as my first and I really wanted to do what I could to help this labor and delivery be more on my terms. They assured me that I waited long enough between pregnancies and that a VBAC was an option. They told me that if I was measuring on track, went into labor on my own, and before my due date that I was a great candidate for a VBAC. So at 37 weeks, we had an ultrasound and the baby was measuring perfectly. Step one: check. A couple of weeks later on a Thursday I began to have contractions and went into labor on my own, before my due date. Step two and three: check. 

That night I tucked my other daughter into bed and sang her a song, gave my dad a hug since my parents were staying over to be with my oldest, and around midnight, my husband and I went to the hospital. Around 7:00 AM after a long night of labor, walking around, pain, crying, we were given our room, an amazing nurse who was going to be with us for the day and I asked for an epidural. We were able to get a couple of hours of sleep and everything was going great. I felt so much better this time about everything. Around 11:00 AM I was fully dilated and getting ready to push. We were waiting for the OB who was on that day to come and break my water. She was busy with another pregnancy so we just waited. That was when I started to feel a bit uneasy. The timing of all of this was so similar to my first labor and delivery. The nurse asked me when the last time I ate was and I knew that was to prepare for a C-Section. I figured I was just overthinking it because I was nervous and tried to stay positive. Right before the OB could get to us, my little girl decided she didn’t want to wait and my water broke on its own. Then things started to spiral out of control. 

The OB, Dr. K, who was on the unit that day came in and we started to push. She was amazing. So supportive and really kept me in the loop with everything she was doing and what was happening. While I was pushing I remember feeling that this was totally different from my first labor when I tried to push. This time I felt ready. I could tell that my baby was ready too. I was so sure this would work. Dr. K did a check and I knew from her reaction something wasn’t right. She explained that the baby was in the wrong position, sunny side up, again. The difference this time was that she was far enough down that Dr. K  said there was still a good chance I could push her out if I wanted to try. So I did. With everything I had. I was so close. So, so close. Then everything started happening very fast. The baby’s heart rate dropped. Not like my first pregnancy, this time it was quick and sudden. She was in distress. I remember all the lights on in the room and a lot of staff around. Dr. K looked at me and told me that we needed to move quickly and if I wanted, I could try pushing one more time.

I still don’t know how or why I did this, it was like my mouth said it before my brain could think. I just told her to forget it, let’s go for the C-Section. After that, things shifted and there was a feeling of urgency in the room. When we were heading down to the OR I asked the doctor to please let me see her when she was born. I told her with my first they just took her and I really felt like I missed something. She reassured me and things got started. When we got downstairs I was introduced to the anesthesiologist- it was the same anesthesiologist, Dr. M, that I had with my first. I told her I remembered her from last time and was relieved to see her again. In what felt like a minute they were testing whether or not I could feel things. I still could. It didn’t hurt or anything -I could just tell they were working. Both doctors told me that I needed to be sure because if I could feel pain, they were going to knock me out. I was okay. This wasn’t the same as with my first C-Section. They needed to start and they needed to start right away. My husband appeared at some point and my baby girl was born. Things were happening so fast that they were only able to give me a glimpse of her as she was rushed over to the NICU team. All I saw was her fuzzy little head fly by me on my right and then blue scrubs surrounded her. I told my husband to go over and check on her.

The Trauma Continues

The doctor was closing me up and noticed I just kept bleeding. She had to open things back up and that was when she discovered that I had a uterine rupture. When I was going to all my prenatal appointments and talking about a VBAC I was told that the chances of this happening were 1 in 200. When I talked with her afterward she explained that not only did I have a uterine rupture, it happened on the back of my uterus right where the uterine artery was which was why I was losing so much blood. She told me it was “like a faucet” and that when she discovered the tear she grabbed onto it to stop the bleeding. She held on and paged for her partner, another OB, to come and help. She held on, waiting, not letting go for 11 minutes. The other doctor drove there in 11 minutes and rushed in to help. During the next few hours, a lot happened and I am so grateful that I was able to communicate with my doctors. Dr. K told me she might have to remove an ovary and tube and was going to try and save the uterus. Then as she was working and they discovered where the tear was and she explained that she would be able to leave the ovaries and tubes, she was going to have to remove the uterus. I said it was okay and that she could do whatever she needed to do.

At this point, the anesthesiologist, with the help of her respiratory therapist, had been monitoring me so carefully. I had so many IVs and so many people constantly checking numbers. I had been awake this whole time because I kept thinking it was almost over and I didn’t want to miss seeing my baby as soon as I could. I lost three and a half liters of blood and needed two blood transfusions, they had a third one ready just in case. When they were almost done and closing up, they had to go back in and check because their sponge count was off. I had been awake and in the OR for four hours now and I was just so tired and things were starting to get really uncomfortable. I could feel things. I kept asking the nurses and the other doctors if they were almost done because I didn’t know how much longer I could do it. The OB and the anesthesiologist both suggested that they put me under and let me rest while they finished up. They assured me it would be okay and two hours later I woke up in recovery.

I got to see my husband and get an update on our baby, who was still in the NICU. She was okay. She was on the CPAP machine and being monitored closely. She had fluid in her lungs (from all the blood) and needed some help clearing it out. In the pictures we have, I can see she had a little feeding tube and a lot of other things monitoring her. They are hard to look at. My husband had been getting some updates throughout because I kept asking our amazing nurse to keep him informed and he was keeping our family in the loop as best he could. We called our parents to tell them we were okay and just hugged each other for a while.

The anesthesiologist, Dr. M, came to see me and told me that she was on the fence about sending me to the ICU. She told me that I was very sick and that they would be better at monitoring me there. I was so afraid because this was happening in the height of the pandemic and the last place I wanted to be was in the ICU. We waited in recovery for a couple of hours and my labs came back better. I was getting better. I have no idea how or why. I just was and we were able to go back to our room. On the way there they took us to the NICU so I could finally meet our little girl. I was finally able to hold her and see her after over 10 hours.

She had to stay in the NICU for two nights and was discharged. I had to have a lot of tests, an iron infusion and somehow was also discharged. I was in shock that after all that I could just go home. During the two days at the hospital, all of my doctors came to visit me and check in. Two of them came in on their day off just to see if I was okay and to answer any questions. Dr. K told me that she met up with my prenatal OB and they went for a long walk to talk about what happened and to debrief. My husband and I began to realize that what happened was not normal or something any of them had really dealt with. The weight of what happened was finally sinking in. 

Not once during the whole ordeal did I feel unsafe or like I was in danger. The entire medical team made sure they were calm and kept me informed. I knew there were moments of urgency and I knew that something bad had happened, I just always felt like they had it under control. When talking to them all after, my husband and I realized things were not as calm as they made it seem and it could have been a lot worse. That is when the guilt set it. What was I thinking? How selfish was I for trying to have VBAC? I put my life and my baby’s life at risk all for a stupid “feeling” I thought I needed? What about my husband and my amazing toddler at home? How could I? Our families were so worried because I couldn’t just schedule a C-Section? I also felt so terrible about not being able to be there for my baby. All the NICU nurses and doctors were taking great care of her and my husband was with her, I just felt like I should have been there. I felt just sick about it all. Like it was all my fault.

When I spoke to my doctor about this after she told me that I did everything right. I was a perfect candidate for a VBAC and that what happened was so rare that it would have been impossible to predict. She told me that if the baby’s heart rate had not dropped she was sure I would have been able to push her out. She also said some sort of mother’s intuition kicked in for both of us that day because if I had not gone for the C-Section when I did, the situation could have been much worse.

Healing

We came home and I cried and hugged my other little girl with all my might. Our new baby rocked her first week home and even gained weight. Since then we have had a lot of checkups and a lot of healing. The first few weeks home I struggled with being left alone and I really had a hard time. I couldn’t send or post pictures announcing the birth because I was just so shocked by it all I couldn’t just pretend things were fine. A lot of people kept saying things like “Well, you are all okay and that’s what matters” or “Well, you weren’t planning to have any more kids, so it’s okay that you had a hysterectomy”. I know that people are trying to help. It doesn’t make me feel any better about it all. I get nervous when I talk to people who don’t know the whole story and hold my breath, waiting for them to ask me about the birth or if we are having any more kids. I don’t know how to answer them. I was able to read through our daughter’s medical notes from her delivery and it is hard to do. For the first 10 minutes of her life, she was in real distress. It’s heartbreaking to read. I’ve been working through all of it in therapy and am so lucky to have a strong support system of friends and family around me. These last few months both my daughter and I have had so many checkups and follow-ups. We are so lucky to have such an amazing medical team looking after us. 

I know that mentally, I still have some healing to do and I am working on that. Each step in this process is part of that healing and sharing this story is something that I am hopeful will help others feel less alone. Most days, I can sit and enjoy watching my girls play or my husband making them dinner and not even think about what happened. I also know that when I do think about it or it’s still upsetting, that is okay too. I know that I am lucky and I love our girls and my husband so much. Slowly, as a family, we are trying to move forward, and hopefully, one day, I will wear my favorite sweater again.

A Bit About Me

Hi! I’m Sam! I am a Drama teacher from Canada! I like playing sports, theatre, and snacks. Thanks for listening and reading my story :).