I Got What I Wanted and I Wanted What I Got: a VBAC Story Part 2
MakAt this point I had been in labor for over 12 hours. Aside from the back and forth of the c-section discussion, labor was going as I had expected. As I had hoped, I was able to be put on a wireless monitor so that I could move around. I asked for a birthing ball and was given one. The nurses were incredible. They checked on me continuously and kept me informed at every step.
Around hour fifteen (8pm), the contractions started to intensify. I decided to take the IV meds; my goal was to avoid an epidural. An epidural meant being confined to the bed and giving birth on my back. The meds took the edge off of the contractions and I was able to labor more comfortably. I attempted to get some sleep. The most comfortable position I could configure was putting up the head of the bed, kneeling facing it, and burying my head into the mattress.
When the doctor came in at 12:30AM (hour 19), I had dilated to 3 cm; a foley bulb was not necessary. I continued to labor, asking for another dose of IV meds.
Daylight savings time added an extra hour to my labor as 2am became 1am. By the second 2am of the day, my contractions were becoming unbearable. I had been unable to talk or move during them for some time, but now my legs were spasming with each contraction. I felt so out of control of my body. Mentally, I was also going to a dark place. The world felt fuzzy around the edges.
I asked for another dose of IV meds. The nurse explained that those meds essentially had a half life–they would eventually stop working.
I was ready to scream, “Just take me back and cut me open!” I had labored–I could be okay with a c-section. But I realized that there was another option: I could get an epidural. It was something I had said I didn’t want throughout my entire pregnancy. Like most women, I had an idea of how this labor would go. I also knew I would have to be flexible with certain aspects of it. At this point I realized something: I had to be at peace with whatever this labor was. If I kept going the way I was, I didn’t think that was going to happen.
So I asked for the epidural. And honestly, I should have asked sooner. It was about an hour and a half later–about 3:45AM (nearly 24 hours into labor)--before I actually got it. It took a little while longer to get it settled evenly–which was my fault. The anesthesiologist had told me to let her know if it felt like it was more on one side than the other when she placed it. I recall feeling it more on the left than the right, but I couldn’t put the thoughts and the words together to tell her.
Once the IV was placed, the nurses were great about helping me continue to change positions at regular intervals to encourage baby to descend and my cervix to dilate. I even got to experience using a peanut ball.
My water was broken at 6.5cm, and the doctor found meconium in the water, meaning baby had already pooped. When this happens, there is a possibility that baby can aspirate their poop into their lungs. Because of this, the doctor asked that the NICU team be present for baby’s birth, in case we needed heavy duty suction.
Around 7:30AM (hour 27 of labor), I was still 6.5 cm. It was suggested that I could start pitocin. I asked if I could stimulate oxytocin instead by pumping, but was told that it would increase the likelihood of uterine rupture since the intensity of the contractions could not be controlled. I still have questions about this. There is always a small risk of uterine rupture with a TOLAC, and I didn’t want to add to that risk. But any information I have looked at since does not address the use of oxytocin vs pitocin to augment labor and the correlation to an increased risk of uterine rupture. Regardless, I made the decision I felt was best at the time, so I won’t dwell on it.
My next cervical check was at 11:10am—finally, I was dilated to 10cm! I couldn’t see over my belly, but it seemed like the doctor was nearly up to her elbow inside of me…pregnancy is so weird! It was time to start pushing–”practice pushing”, the doctor called it. This part was much different than what I expected. I was put in stirrups and it was just me, Chelsey, and the nurse–each of them had one of my legs.
By this time. I was exhausted. I knew that I could be looking at another 3-4 hours of pushing. I began to wonder if I even had the strength to see this through and achieve my VBAC. However, it wasn’t long before the nurse said it was time to call the doctor in. After that, things progressed quickly. The doctor came in, and I continued to push for a few more minutes before she told me to stop–to her surprise, baby was right there…but we had to wait for the NICU team. I briefly debated not stopping–I was ready to hold my girl!
It seemed like it took forever for the NICU team to arrive–really it was probably less than two minutes. Once they were in the room, I gave all my energy to one last push and felt a distinct expulsion of head, then body–and my baby girl was here! 30 hours of labor and 45 minutes of pushing, and she was finally here. I cried. I had a daughter. We had done it–we got our VBAC!
Chelsey cut the cord and Madelyn was placed on my chest. Shortly after, I gave baby girl to Chelsey because I was super nauseous–I ended up puking. It took me a while to recover and not feel weak and shaky, so the golden hour I imagined was a little less golden than anticipated. Meanwhile, the doctor was still working down between my legs–I knew she was stitching up a tear and I was again grateful for the epidural. I finally asked what the damage was–a 3rd degree (which means it extended into the perineal muscle.)
My daddy used to call me his princess; it was something I never fully understood until I had a daughter. The first time the nickname slipped out of my mouth, it took me by surprise (as it often does when we hear our parents’s words come through our own voice). But it was in that moment that I fully understood the sentiment behind it, and it fully illuminated the love my dad had had for me all my life.
The hours and days that followed Madeyln’s arrival are a story for another blog. She has been living on her own terms since before she was born *cough cough, being 8 days late* and I could not imagine having my daughter any other way.
Watching my son become a big brother has been one of my very favorite parts of being a mom of two. Although he was momentarily overwhelmed by the whole hospital scene, once he realized baby sis was here, all he wanted to do was hold her. My heart may have exploded. And he has loved her ferociously (sometimes aggressively) every day since.
