A VBAC birth story

I was designed and destined to be a mom, and had known from a very early age that that was my purpose in life. In the last eighties (or early nineties) I used to watch an old Access TV program on VBAC births. Who knew I would need to recall that info years later with my second child?

Although it took years (and that's another blog post in itself - see the Journey to Parenthood post here) my first pregnancy was perfect. I had nothing to complain about, and just adored being pregnant and feeling this beautiful life grow within me. I had waited many years for this, and was taking the pregnancy day by day, enjoying each new milestone. I loved being pregnant! 

I wasn’t even upset by the fact that I was well overdue until my niece was born (who was supposed to be born after my child). Holding her, I desperately wanted to be holding my precious baby. Sure enough the next day I went into labour. :) 

No prenatal class, no book, no TV show prepared me for what I was about to go through. I had intense back labour that went on for hours. I finally agreed 38 hours into my labour for an epidural. Five hours after that procedure, having made little progress, the on-call OB thought it best to break my water. She was very concerned when along with the water, came a lot of blood, and lots of clots. I remember her rushing around telling the staff in the room that she was prepping the OR and would see us in there immediately. 

In the NICU, away from his mommy, already cleaned up.

My husband and I were suddenly terrified that we were losing our child, and I tearfully remember telling the neonatologist to please make sure my baby would be okay. Five minutes after being wheeled into the OR, and after 43 exhausting hours of labour, my baby boy was born. It turned out that my placenta had started separating “some time ago” as there was plenty of old, dark blood and clots. The placenta was roughly 90% detached at birth. We very very nearly lost our child. Although the c-section was traumatic, it was also life saving. I am VERY thankful to the staff for saving my baby’s life.

That being said, I missed out on a lot of bonding time in the immediate post-partum as I was in recovery and my newborn was being treated in the NICU. I didn’t get to hold him until he was over two hours old (and only for the fastest three minutes of my life), and he was not brought into my room until he was nearly six hours old. His first bath was done without me. Breastfeeding was a nightmare, but we made it through that.  

I repeat - although I am extremely grateful for his life -  I felt robbed of a great birthing experience and mourned over this. Comments like “Be thankful that he is here, and healthy” only made me feel shame, because I was thankful for all of that but I felt something was missing. Who wouldn't be happy that they were finally holding their baby? So I had a bit to process after that, and vowed the next time (if I was lucky enough for a next time), I would birth differently.

My second pregnancy was actually a bit of a surprise. 

We had been trying unsuccessfully to get pregnant with fertility drugs (we started those bad boys again thirteen months after having our first and no luck within the first six rounds of Clomid). We stopped the hormonal nightmare in August and figured this time, we needed more help, so our OB booked us an appointment with the fertility clinic for February (we'd be almost two years of trying for baby #2 by that point). We were not on any drugs when I started feeling different around my son's second birthday. A quick test on Boxing Day shockingly (but very pleasantly happily) confirmed we were pregnant!

Now this pregnancy was vastly different to my first. I was sick and nauseous for the first few months, having a huge aversion to red meat or anything that oozed anything when cut into. I was more tired than with my first (but I was also chasing a two year old), and had the worst sciatica pains. But somehow, through all the ups and downs of the pregnancy, I knew this birth would be different, just as the carrying this child was turning out to be. 

Voracious for information, I read, watched and partook in anything VBAC (vaginal birth after Cesarean) related. I refused to book my c-section, and actually looked for other OB’s when it was pushed aggressively.

The placental abruption with my first birth had sealed my fate with birthing options – because I had no known risk factors and it was a first birth, my second birth had to be in a hospital, where I would be more closely monitored. I did not argue that, as I had done my research and knew, for baby and I, that was the safest option. If the abruption were to happen again, I would be mere minutes from an OR. There would be no home birth for me. 

My second labour proved to be different in as many ways as the getting pregnant and carrying our second child. For example, we hired a doula and she helped us more than she will ever know. We educated ourselves about everything VBAC related. We knew the risks of a VBAC, we knew the positives and negatives of each and every procedure that could be (and likely would be offered). As the due date approached, we were prepared. 

Hard & active labour started at 4pm, two weeks ahead of my due date. I'd actually talked to my little dude and 'convinced' him that arriving early would be best. Then I didn't need to fight against the pressure from the OB for a repeat section, which she claimed was happening the day after my due date!) 

The labour was not without work and tears. But I had knowledge on my side, my husband who was ready to advocate for us and a doula who worked her magic on helping ease the pain of back labour. 

As my labour slowed down, likely due to fear, an epidural was suggested by the medical team. It was the middle of the night, and would afford me some rest so I could push my baby into the world. (Bless those nurses who were so encouraging of my VBAC). I agreed, but only if I was far enough along. An early epidural could slow the rate of progression. 
The nurse checked. I was 6 cms, and let me tell you, this was a celebration! In the quiet before the administration of the epidural, I talked to my unborn child and I prayed for peace with my decision. 

A few hours after the numbness took over my lower body, I felt that pop and in fear, summoned the nurse. Fearing a repeat of the placental abruption I had with my first child, the nurse came and checked. My water had broken and it was clear; blood and clot free! She also thought she should check my cervix, and happily announced I was fully dilated. If I could've stood up and danced, I would've. 

That was one of the best moments of my life! 

However, the damn OB was insistent she get her section in. Even though the nurse said I was a full 10 cms, the OB told me she'd need to prep the OR as my baby had not yet engaged and was floating at a -2 station. Thankfully, that amazingly wonderful nurse stood up to the doc and suggested I try a practice push to see if I could get my baby to a 0 station (engaged). 

I did, and probably had the smuggest little smile on my face afterwards. I was going to do it.

Labour was nothing compared to pushing, IMO. But at least I actively doing something rather than just getting through the contractions. I pushed hard for roughly 2 hours, but was worth it when I looked down and saw my posterior son, not yet fully born, looking up at me! (in a 'normal' birth they should be looking towards the backside of their momma's thighs).

My baby boy slid out of me (and into my waiting hands). I got to see him take that first breath and I watched him make those fabulous cries. The OB placed him on my chest and told me the odds were 10% to do what I just did. But I never cared about the odds, however I got my dream birth. I wiped vernix from my baby’s face, I kissed his head, I breathed in his newborn smell and checked over every square inch of him. All the things I'd missed out with my first birth. 

My beautiful VBAC baby, seconds old.

I felt that I had won the war, but without an additional 15cm scar I already bore from the first battle. My beautiful son nursed within 30 minutes of birth and it was pure euphoria in the room.

Looking back upon these two remarkably different births, I have asked myself (and have been asked) if there was anything I would’ve done differently. The short, uncomplicated answer is no. I live with the regret every day of not having been more vocal during my first birth. Maybe had them do more checks, or do a scan to check the placenta. But that's hindsight, right? If I could take the knowledge I have now and apply it to the birth back then, sure, perhaps the journey would've been different. But I can't change it, and it's pointless to wonder. Instead, I treasure the hell out of my two boys, and love them more each passing day. I am forever grateful to be their mom, to laugh with them, to grow with them and to be a part of their every days.   

Knowledge truly is power, and not long about my little dude gifted us with his presence, I went out and became a birth doula, and furthered my education to become a childbirth educator. To help others advocate for themselves, and to help them have a birth that they can look back on with love.

Thanks for reading.