My birth story has a happy ending - ten fingers, ten toes, bright eyes and a loud cry. The overall birth process, though, was not like a Hollywood story.
I never went into labor. My husband and I didn’t scurry out of the house in the middle of the night and hurry towards the hospital. We didn’t experience traffic delays, forgotten bags or other follies. Instead, we had to decide whether or not Sophia would be born by a cesarean section instead of a vaginal birth after one failed induction attempt and 24 hours in the hospital.
I was a puffball for most of my pregnancy. Overweight to begin with, normal pregnancy weight gain coupled with the amount of water I retained just made me look puffy from head to toe.
But as the weeks went by I went from puffy to at risk for preeclampsia (also called toxemia) and a general concern that I may explode. I gained less than 20 pounds during my pregnancy and it appears it was mostly water weight.
A month prior to my due date the fluid that had permanently settled in my feet and ankles (my husband correctly referred to them as cankles) migrated north and my hands, fingers and face ballooned as well.
For these reasons, each time I saw an obstetrician or midwife (I went to a collaborative practice) there was increased concern. I was told to lay flat as much as possible in the hopes that I could rid my body of some of the fluid. I was also told to keep walking as it would help as well. Essentially, I was supposed to lay flat unless I was walking. Sitting wasn’t on the list.
Meanwhile, all seemed well with the baby although she had yet to drop and my cervix was long and closed. In short, my body was not readying itself for labor.
Four days after my due date I went to my previously scheduled doctor’s appointment, met with a midwife and was told to leave the doctor’s office and go straight to the hospital. I mentioned that I was feeling less movement in the womb and my blood pressure had risen. These new developments added to the list of other concerns equaled an afternoon of fetal monitoring and another sonogram, just to have a look around and check the baby’s position and weight.
Fetal monitoring at the hospital revealed that the baby’s heartbeat was strong, but the sonogram shed light on a previously unknown situation in the womb. My amniotic fluid was dangerously low and it was possible that if I did go into labor the small amount of fluid that remained would not be enough to cushion the baby, thus opening up the door to other serious issues.
Since the heartbeat was strong we decided to induce labor and see how the baby responded to contractions. I was given pitocin and hooked up to a machine for constant fetal monitoring and watched for any changes, positive or negative.
The induction process began late in the afternoon and lasted through the night and most of the next day. Pitocin was followed with other hormones inserted vaginally in order to soften my cervix and get things moving, but labor never came. My contractions were few and mild, my cervix didn’t change much and the baby seemed to be most content sitting high in my tummy.
I was increasingly mentally and physically exhausted. I was constantly concerned about the baby. If there were any signs of distress I would have to have an emergency cesarean section.
I started to question why I was continuing the induction process. It wasn’t working, I showed no signs of progress and the word the medical staff kept using to describe my body was “unfavorable.” I was an unfavorable candidate for vaginal delivery and further medical intervention seemed imminent.
I spent my second day in the hospital stressed out over how to proceed. Not only did I want to have a more natural experience and give my body a chance to deliver the baby on its own (I’m a classic procrastinator so who’s to say my uterus and child are not as well), but I had read more than a couple of articles about the increased number of cesarean births in the past decade and how the surgery is not always medically necessary. Plus, I was afraid of the surgery. (Actually, I’m fearful of all surgery.)
So I had to assess necessary. I realized that the fact that I was constantly hooked up to a fetal monitor and was told that I wasn’t able to leave until I had the baby meant that my time in the labor and delivery wing of the hospital was limited. I was having a c-section, the decision to make was whether I wanted to schedule the operation on my own or whether I wanted to wait for fetal distress to cause an emergency situation.
The latter was not an option. So after more than 24 hours in the hospital and one failed induction attempt I signed up for a cesarean section. I felt it was the safest option for the baby and the only issue was my fear. I admit that I cried and tried to think of reasons to back out at the last minute. Thankfully my husband was there to assure me that all would be OK.
For the surgery I was given an epidural and a mild sedative (I was a nervous wreck) instead of a spinal block. All went well and I truly felt no pain. The operation was quick and Max was able to hold the baby next to me minutes after she was born. We spent four more days in the hospital and were anxious and ready to go when we were finally able to leave.
Sophia is thriving and I am recovering well. I am thankful that the baby was born safely and that we didn’t have to face an emergency situation. I have unanswered questions, though, that will most likely remain that way.
The two doctors who saw me in the hospital and the handful or midwives were not able to give me a reason as to why things happened the way they did. No one knows where the bulk of my amniotic fluid went (it was visible in my 36 week sonogram), and there is no obvious reason why the baby never made her way to my pelvis and the birth canal (she wasn’t tangled in the umbilical cord and wasn’t too large). I was just “unfavorable.”
I’ve thought about what could have happened if this was 1907 instead of 2007. Is it possible that my child or I would not have made it through childbirth? I am thankful for the miracle that is Sophia, but wonder what would have happened if I had waited for labor, and why my body was unable to follow through.
With as much as we know now about pregnancy and childbirth, there are still so many unknowns. What physical and environmental issues landed me in the growing group of women who have cesarean sections? Will this number just continue to rise?
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