Charlie's Birth
-by Kiley
Myers
So many people told me I'd never be able to give
birth vaginally. After all, I'm short, quite overweight,
have a tiny pelvis (when I'm not overweight I
have a terrible time finding clothes small enough),
babies in my family are normally 8-10 pounds at
term, and I've had two c-sections. It seems like
just about everybody can find something in that
list to "risk me out" for- and say that
a normal birth is impossible for me.
But somehow deep inside me, before the birth
of my third child, I knew that I could give birth...
that is- as long as I didn't have anybody near
me who didn't absolutely know I could do
it; who wouldn't get panicky if my birth was slightly
different than the textbooks said it should be.
This deep knowledge began me on the quest to find
just the right birth for me.
My first two births were horrible hospital ordeals.
With my first child, I had high blood pressure,
and was induced at 34 weeks. After five days of
Pitocin and no progress my water was broken. Then
the clock started ticking until I “had”
to have a c-section.
When I was pregnant with my second I was dead
set on VBAC. I talked to my doctor about it- she
was supportive, and said there was no reason to
think I couldn't do it. Then my blood sugars got
a little high and they diagnosed me with gestational
diabetes. At 40 weeks they told me I “had”
to be induced; and when I tried to refuse, they
said they'd have my other child put into foster
care if I didn't do it- as "obviously"
any fit parent would comply with her doctor's
orders. I knew this wasn't right: my blood sugars
were not high enough to put my child in danger,
and I'd been very careful about diet. But I had
no choice but to succumb to the induction.
I did negotiate to be allowed to be active during
the induction, apparently a first for that hospital.
After two very intense days of Pitocin (and yes,
that would be two days of Pitocin on a uterus
with a c-section scar- thank God they didn't make
my uterus rupture), I still hadn't progressed.
I was told it was time for my c-section by a very
rude older male doctor whom I'd never even met
before. I suggested an epidural instead, thinking
maybe it would relax me and something would
happen. They agreed, as they said they'd want
me to have an epidural for the c-section anyway.
It didn't really relax me, but it did allow a
very kind resident to do an aggressive internal
exam. She found some scar tissue that seemed to
be holding things up. She asked if she could remove
it, I said yes. I began to progress, but slowly.
My blood pressure got dangerously low at one point
from the epidural, and I needed epinephrine to
get my vitals going again.
Finally I was complete and ready to push! But
at this point, this doctor- one who had urged
me days earlier to have a c-section, saying that
my trying a VBAC was a waste of everybody's time-
came in telling me that she was now in charge,
and then wheeled me into the operating room. This
completely stopped my labor. There I was- in horrible
pain, tied up with tubes and monitors, and stuck
flat on my back in transition with no contractions
to help me get past it. I had another c-section.
This second section was terrible. The room was
freezing, I was freezing, my arms were tied down
like I was held down on a cross. They gave me
this horrible stuff that made me vomit terribly,
which hurt my tender abdomen a LOT. The epidural
didn't work real well, and had to be fiddled with.
The yanking and pulling to get baby and uterus
out were very disconcerting and violent. I felt
like I was being ripped apart, though there was
no pain, thankfully. I sobbed through much of
it.
Then they wouldn't let me see my baby, even though
I kept begging to at least have a peek. He wasn't
sick enough to warrant that- he had 9.5 Apgar
score the first time, and though his blood sugar
was slightly low, it was nowhere near levels that
would warrant mother/baby separation.
While I was still tied down, they took him to
the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit), where
he was held captive. They told me that they wouldn't
release him until they were sure I was competent
as a parent, and they wouldn't know that until
they knew I was willing to give him FORMULA! Is
that the most outrageous thing you have ever heard!
They kept a pacifier in his mouth and formula-fed
him against my wishes. From the moment I sprung
him from that horrible place, he never again even
saw an artificial nipple of fake milk, much less
had it pass his lips. I thank God he transitioned
into the family as well as he did after all that
trauma.
Then I got pregnant with my third baby. In this
pregnancy, my husband Ed insisted we go for another
hospital birth. We looked for a CNM who would
take me, and wouldn't force unwanted interventions
on me. We thought we found one. Yet every appointment,
I would cry. Every time I passed the hospital,
seven blocks from our home, I'd cry. Every time
we'd talk about the birth, I'd cry. Then at about
15 weeks the CNM said that my birth would have
to be carefully monitored, and that I'd need lots
of extra testing. We had hired her because she
agreed not to do any of that to me- but now her
tune changed. Even though she was the best the
hospital had to offer, I knew I couldn't keep
seeing her. Our search for an alternative began.
I thought about having the baby at home, as I’d
always wanted. Ed was resistant- he always thought
of birth as a hospital thing. But he overheard
me telling my sister that what I really wanted
was to birth at home in my bathtub unassisted,
and that if I went ahead and did it, Ed would
just have to forgive me. I think this scared him
enough to agree to a birth center birth, a compromise.
However, even before we looked at our first birth
center, he decided we might as well just have
the baby at home instead.
At this point I “met” LLM.
People referred me to her website and urged me
to e-mail her about my midwife search, and ask
her about unassisted homebirth. I was moved by
what I read at her site, and sent her a note about
my own births, and current search. She became
quite an advocate for me. Although I knew she
strongly favors birthing at home without a midwife,
she never pushed me to try it, and she did all
she could to help me find a midwife. She supported
and respected my right to make my own choices.
After I exhausted the phone book selection of
midwives, she sent me names and addresses of other
midwives, and addresses for various directories.
This was very empowering!
But even with her help we had a hard time finding
a midwife- we never found anybody who would take
us and had complete confidence in us. At best
they thought we could "try" a VBAC...
but I had no intention of "trying",
I was going to DO it. I knew that approaching
breastfeeding with the "try" attitude
almost always leads to formula feeding, and I
figured that approaching birth with the same attitude
would mean another c-section for me, and another
long difficult recovery.
My husband is no fool. He knew all this too.
He instinctively knew just like I did that I could
VBAC; and he also knew that none of these people
would "let" me in the end- that they'd
find "something" to section me for:
either the baby would get too big, the pregnancy
would go "too long", etc., etc. He very
much wanted a midwife with us, but he wasn't willing
to compromise and have one who wasn't as 100%
committed as we were.
Ultimately, his belief in my ability to birth,
and his insight into folks who believed otherwise,
allowed me to have the birth I've always dreamed
of. Ed made a safe place for me to do what I needed
to do... and in the end, he and my birth-wise
friend Maka Laughingwolf on the phone were the
only birth support I had, and they were all I
needed.
At 43 weeks and 4 days, I woke up at 6 a.m. to
see Ed off to work. We were cuddling, and I kept
wanting to push him away during contractions.
He offered to stay home from work and see if this
was going anywhere, but I insisted he go to work,
at least for a while. I figured, that even if
it was time, it'd be better to just proceed with
our normal lives for as long as possible. I lay
on my left side, trying to go back to sleep, and
got good rest between contractions.
By 10 a.m. I called Ed and told him to get home,
NOW. Our boys are 4 and 2, and I felt I needed
his help with them. Ed came home and began looking
for his copy of "The Birth Partner".
I suggested we take a walk with the kids. We walked
and it felt good. During contractions I'd lean
into him, and remind us both that this is good,
this is how babies come out.
We went out to lunch, which was good distraction.
Our usual waitress at our little local restaurant
didn't even notice we were in labor. We went home,
I tried the sidelying position again, on our bed,
then I got into the tub. We weren't timing contractions,
somehow it didn't feel right to try to quantify
everything. I'd never had real regular contractions
with the boys, and we figured maybe I wouldn't
this time either. We figured the best approach
would be to let the labor happen without trying
to measure everything.
By evening things were very intense, and I was
spending a lot of time in the tub. When not in
the tub, I was on the birth ball, or leaning over
it. I'd put it in the rocking chair we had positioned
in the bathroom for the birth, and lean over it
in a standing position, which felt good.
Much of the time the baby was in a posterior
position. When things got real intense, I'd get
on hands and knees in the tub, while Ed applied
couterpressure to my lower back. His arms were
pretty sore by the time the baby was out! It was
a long, difficult night.
Eventually Ed went to get some sleep, and I tried
to sleep in the tub. Although Ed kept me supplied
with juice and fresh drinking water, at one point
I let myself get dehydrated. Labor became unbearable.
I forced myself to drink all the beverages Ed
had lined up at the side of the tub for me, and
felt immensely better. That was the worst part
of the whole labor!
The next day, things continued to intensify.
At one point I started to feel real pushy. I tried
to feel if the baby's head was there, and couldn't
find it. I tried to resist pushing, thinking it
was too early. But soon I found I just couldn't
resist. After a couple of good pushes, there was
what felt like an explosion between my legs- my
water had broken! I looked down and the bath water
was full of small pieces of vernix, and was quite
cloudy- but white, not brown or green. I checked
for baby's head and the cord etc., again. I felt
no cord (Yay!), and something very hard and hairy,
and long tattered pieces of my bag of waters.
At this point I got very scared. I knew that
this was normal, but for some reason I needed
to hear it from someone else. I was pretty exhausted
and not thinking real clearly at this point. I
think part of me knew that the scary part
of labor was going to start, TRANSITION, and that
things could get a lot more intense a real fast.
I called Maka Laughingwolf who gently let me know
that this was all normal, and that when it happened
to her, the baby arrived pretty soon thereafter,
though that didn't mean it would be that way for
me.
This was all around 12 noon. Downstairs I could
hear my 4 year old demanding to be put down for
a nap. Now, this is a child who hates naps, and
works hard to avoid them. Ed gladly brought the
boys upstairs and let them snuggle down for their
nap, and they fooled around for a while, but eventually
fell asleep. We consider this no small miracle!
At this point, the pain was constant. The pressure
on my pelvic arch was overwhelming. I laid on
my back in the water, arching my back, and let
the baby's head mold around my pelvic arch- I
wanted gravity to pull him down away from it!
I had experienced this stage of labor with my
second, in the hospital, just before my labor
was stopped and I was c-sectioned. But never would
I want to go through this any other way, in my
own home, on my own. I'd estimate the pain level
to be 5% of what I experienced in the hospital,
with the epidural turned down and all the machines
beeping, cold room, bright lights, etc. Doing
this in my own way- in a dim room, with nobody
telling me what to do, and floating in warm water
was so much easier!
Soon "dreaded" transition was over,
and I was pushing! Transition wasn't so bad after
all, not nearly as bad as being dehydrated in
labor.
I hadn't planned on pushing, I had planned on
trying to gently let my body work at its own pace.
However, this feral force would take over my body
from time to time, and I pushed- there was no
choice involved. I was afraid I'd tear myself
to bits, but the force was irresistible. There
was no regular pattern to when it would come upon
me.
I kept two fingers on my baby's head. As soon
as the pressure on my pelvic arch let up, I flipped
onto my left side, and scrunched down into the
end of the tub into this weird squatting position,
it felt good. Baby's head was playing peek-a-boo.
As soon as he stopped slipping back between contractions,
I told my husband that he may see some blood at
this point, but not to worry. Baby was really
coming now...
Through all of this Ed was my rock. When things
got intense and thoughts of transport and c-section
were appealing to me, Ed was right there, telling
me I could do it. He says I said some pretty crazy
things, but he won't tell me what. I don't remember,
though I remember thinking some wild thoughts.
Ed was quite calm, always knowing when to help,
and when to leave me alone. He kept me well supplied
with drinks, and snacks, and reminded me to stay
hydrated.
As baby began to crown, we both began to get
more excited. This was IT, we were doing it, and
there was no going back! I could feel the "ring
of fire." No question, this one was coming
out the right way!
By the time his head was out, we were both pretty
goofy. I wanted to get more upright, and couldn't
find a good position that worked for our tub.
I should have moved to our birth pool, which Ed
had set up, but it was too late now! I finally
got up into a crouching position, and put Ed's
hands on his baby's head. I told him this was
it, baby was coming, check for a cord. Before
he found the cord he found an ear, and got really
excited. I'll never forget the look of wonder
and joy on his face... I think this may have been
when they baby first became real to him. Up until
then, it had been about taking care of me, and
protecting me from another medical birth. Now
he knew he had another child coming and the party
began!
I heard him say "no cord" as the urge
to push overtook me again. He says what he actually
said was, "wait, wait, there is a cord",
to which he said I replied, "there is always
a cord!" Then the baby shot out, right past
our waiting hands, through the water! So much
for the "risk" of shoulder dystocia
(something I'd been warned about many times because
my babies are big and I'm not). Neither of us
expected it to be that push that did it, but there
he was!
I snatched him up, and we both began to cry with
joy...
 We
hugged and kissed, and cuddled the baby, who pinked
up right away and seemed pleased with the celebration.
Ed ran to see what time it was, 2 p.m., two hours
since my water broke and the final stages began.
At this point we probably looked like the Keystone
Cops. I didn't know if I should, stand or sit.
We let the water out of the tub, and put in fresh.
We got set to cut the cord, then remembered that
we didn't want to do that so quickly. Then we
noticed it wasn't pulsing, so maybe it was OK
to cut it. We kept laughing, and thinking, what
a perfect welcome to our family!
As I was standing there, covered in blood and
vernix, cord hanging between the baby and I, Arthur
(age 4) came down the hall and saw his brother
for the first time. Then soon the whole family
had met and fallen in love with the baby. Arthur
had wanted to be there for the birth, since he
found out I was pregnant. However, now he retreated
back to his play room until I got cleaned up.
I think he was happy to have just been there in
the house, where he could look in on me from time
to time. His 2 year old brother was just happy
about everything anyway, and still is. This was
so much less disruptive for him than his own birth,
or the birth of his older brother!
We expected the placenta to come right out, but
it didn't. I seemed like I was losing an awful
lot of blood. Ed began to get real nervous. I
put in another call to Maka, who reassured us
that this was okay, sometimes it didn't come out
so fast, and that it was okay as long as I wasn't
real lightheaded or shaky. I was feeling pretty
good for someone who had been through such a long,
intense labor and birth, so we just tried to wait.
It took about two hours for the placenta to come.
Without Maka, I think Ed- who was such a rock
up until this point- would have insisted on transport.
We decided to name our boy Charles Michael, and
call him Charlie. Charlie has been a big hit with
his brothers, who can't wait for him to start
walking and playing with them. Charlie is a champion
nurser- he's been a dream to latch on, unlike
his brothers who were given bottles of formula
and pacifiers in the hospital. He's growing like
crazy, and already changing too quickly for me
to keep up. I'm less than two weeks postpartum
and feel wonderful (including my bottom!)- nothing
like after my sections.
The search for the right situation, and then
the birth itself transformed our whole family.
Our marriage will never be the same- we have found
new levels of love and compassion for each other.
Our children are deeply in love with their new
brother, as are we. When my second child was born,
I was in the hospital for a week. It took two
weeks for my first child to be back on speaking
terms with me. But this time he was right there,
knew what was happening, and felt a part of it
all. The baby has been a part of our family right
from the start, and was never a "little stranger"
in our home. Charlie fits right in. We are truly
blessed.
Charlie at almost two years
old
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