Zella's Birth Story
-by Michelle
DePasa
I have not written a birth story before now,
although a place was set on my website for it
because I still have a hard time dealing with
the birth - and with the shame I feel about how
it turned out.
I have been blessed with the most beautiful,
delightful and bright baby girl (named Zella)
- she is the greatest pleasure in my life. But
I cannot get past the violence done to her in
what turned out to be the most horrible birth
- one I could not have planned for. "Guilt"
seems like such a ridiculous understatement.
Anyhow, I will try to explain what happened.
I knew about the dangers of hospital birth years
ago, by the time I was 19 or so (I am 29). 5 years
ago I found the unassisted birth community online
and knew that when I finally had a baby that I
would benefit from all the women that had gone
before me and not have to go through one (or more)
horrible births before I got it right. Yet still
everything went wrong. I was under amazing stress
the last weeks of my pregnancy. I went to 45 weeks
past my LMP or about 43.5 weeks if going by actual
conception. My mother had been diagnosed again
with cancer, this time it spread to her bones
and organs. We overdrew the checking account,
and my car died on the side of the road.
I passed blood and mucous on March 22, and had
contractions all day - not terribly strong. Then
they petered out, no big deal. But the next night
they started again, stronger, then petered out
by 11 am. Sunday morning I was having strong contractions
that took all my concentration, 5 minutes apart,
>1 minute long then my MIL burst in and labor
stopped. It went on like this all week, getting
stronger and closer together, always stopping,
or toning down by 11am. I also passed a lot of
yellowy greenish mucous (?) which one of my friends
said was a good sign. It became evident by Wednesday
that the baby was posterior again, and staying
that way. She also would not flex her head. I
did everything possible (chiropractic, Webster
technique, acupuncture, moxibustion, and careful
positioning) and still she was fully post. I had
to take the phone off the hook since folks were
calling and demanding I go immediately to the
ER. It was awful. In the end, after the mistake
of not sleeping that last week, we ended up trying
to have an assisted birth.
Adam was deadset on it by this time, and terrified
of what was happening and all the fear his parents
placed in him. I can't believe what a mistake
it was. I didn't know what else to do. This young
midwife took our money from us and showed up Friday
the 29th (the first day that labor did NOT stop
in the morning) with her 1 year old son. I couldn't
believe it. She brought her kid. It was a nightmare.
He chased my dog, tore apart my house, spilt hot
HOT tea on me during a contraction, wrecked a
sculpture I had been working on for 4 years, I
don't think I relaxed for ONE minute. It was so
distracting I felt trapped in a nightmare why
didn't I tell her to get him out of there? Adam
still felt safer with her there despite the fact
that this kid was driving us nuts. Our home isn't
babyproofed for a toddler, and I was on high alert
the whole time I am kicking myself as I write
this. To make this story shorter, after 35 hours
of grueling back labor in my hands and knees (and
major rug burn), my cervix had not dilated - at
all. It was 5 am and I had not slept in about
4 days. I was desperate. It was a nightmare.
I went to the hospital, the midwife left me
there to go home with her kid (!) but we had someone
else to stay with us and help us fight off the
incessant HAZING that began once we arrived.
Now, if I was not going to open up in my bedroom,
I wasn't going to in this inner city hospital
- let me say I chose this hospital because it
is Baby Friendly certified - and fraudulently
so. It was about as unfriendly as can be. Since
I came in off the street, so to speak, with no
medical records, I was treated like a dirty vagrant.
The triage nurse scoffed "you sure the baby's
vertex?" because she could get a Doppler
reading higher up. As if I am so ignorant not
to know. I cried and cried, my belly was permanently
tightened.
I still had Adam press hard on my back. The sacral
pain was amazing. It was like a hot light splitting
apart my pelvis. Baby was fine all along, more
or less, going by heart rate. I was distraught
and exhausted but hyper alert as to what was happening.
It was such a challenge to get them to DISCUSS
things with me- I said no Pitocin, they gave me
a "well you came here for help and so you
should let us do our job..." One resident
had a real attitude. She seemed put out that I
kept having the OB team come in to answer questions.
I agreed to the Pitocin (REGRET) which led to
an epidural (DITTO)- I remember my fear and then
saying to Adam, "I can't believe I put drugs
in our baby". water broke, all green and
thick. So of course you know what happened next.
antibiotics for me, with the diagnosis of "chorio-amnionitis"
or something like that. I had a fever - I had
just signed something saying that I might get
a fever with an epidural, and then they get upset
because I got a fever. I think they were covering
ass since they didn't know my GBS status.
By 4pm , (I got to the hospital at 6am) I had
dilated 1/2 cm or so, to 5-1/2cm. I couldn't believe
it. Nothing was happening. Then they browbeat
me into letting the mean resident insert all these
things into my cervix - it was so traumatizing.
First, something that measures the strength of
the contraction - I cried when it went in, I have
severe trauma from being abused by a doctor at
college - I begged the resident to be gentle.
Then another probe to put a screw in Zella's head.
I could not believe these things were happening.
Here I was, with about 50 tubes sticking out of
me, an epidural, Pitocin, NPO, with a screw in
my precious baby's head. Then another probe to
shoot water into my uterus to wash out the meconium
(later my friend said that's when my daughter
began to get angry). all the while I am lying,
SOBBING pitifully with my legs open, uncovered
while 4 people look on. I was so humiliated.
Finally, the last probe touches the baby's face
to measure her oxygen. The doctors gave each other
a look and left the room. I knew something was
wrong. The head OB came back and said, "normal
O2 levels are between 30-60 - your baby is reading
13-17. Remember when you said there was a time
the baby is safer on the outside? The time is
now."
Then, like a whirlwind I was prepped for surgery.
I was shaved, and Adam was told to change. I was
rushed into the ER, and the gurney actually banged
into the door like it does in comedies. I was
terrified. In my mind, I had an oxygen deprived,
handicapped baby. As I was being wheeled around,
I imagined life with a handicapped child. What
I could tell my parents, how I would live with
the accusation. I wept and wept. The anesthesiologist
came and upped my epidural after they strapped
me down. The original epidural had worn off and
I had excruciating back labor contractions on
the table and couldn't move. The higher dose still
left me able to move my legs and feel sensation.
I was so scared when they cut and pulled at me,
I could feel it all. I felt like a shark had me
underwater and was yanking me around. I stared
at Adam wide eyed and said "why is this happening
to me".
Then baby was out, lifting me up with the final
pull - "it's a girl" Adam whooped with
glee. I yelled "don't hurt her" then
I heard the sound - the suction machine. I was
crazed. I could hear them torturing her and there
was nothing I could do! That pitiful cry! It haunts
me every day. They inserted a laryngoscope. She
crapped all over the place she was so terrified.
Adam cut the cord (shorter). he came over and
said "she has lots of hair and she looks
like you" then he brought her near my head
all wrapped up - I could see her chin dimple and
started crying again. He couldn't get her close
enough to me, her eyes were closed. I told Adam
to stay with her while they took her to the nursery.
I was taken to recovery and no one told me what
was going on with my baby or whether she was healthy.
My friend kept asking and the nurse said "I'm
writing". I assumed my daughter was in bad
shape, that was why no one came to talk to me.
What was actually happening was an inexperienced
person was trying to insert an IV into her! he
tried 3 places! she was all bruised and crazed
with pain. I did not approve an IV, or antibiotics.
There was no indication for antibiotics. I didn't
get to be with her until almost THREE hours later!!
It turned out she was healthy and nothing was
wrong with her. I didn't know for a while. It
was so cruel. No pediatrician ever came to talk
to me. Of course she wouldn't nurse - she didn't
want anything in her mouth after that. She was
lethargic and had an oral aversion.
The next day they kept her in the nursery all
day and tried to give her formula - I had to be
a physical presence despite barely being able
to walk - to prevent them doing this. I think
it was punishment. The ped. threatened to put
her on IV feeding if I didn't consent to formula!
and this is supposed to be a Baby Friendly hospital.
It was all a sham. I saw no other mothers breastfeeding,
all had bottles. They kept her in the nursery
due to a piece of faulty equipment - it was reading
her oxygen levels wrong. I demanded discharge
the next day and they had no protocol for releasing
someone so early after a C-sec. I had to come
back to get the staples out. I knew if my baby
was there one more day they would torture her
further. Band-Aids, tape on her tender skin, endless
heel sticks, rough handling, it was awful. She
actually had a red mark on her face where they
missed when they were SHOVING the tube down her
throat. It felt like a dangerous place, and I
had no choice in anything. I feel so bad for my
daughter.
It was a full week before she nursed successfully.
Imagine a healthy full term baby being finger
fed! That was how traumatize she was. I had to
pump around the clock when I should have been
resting after surgery. Then I got bad thrush,
then my supply dropped from stress. I ended up
in the ER with an anxiety attack. She was and
still is exclusively breastfed, but only after
amazing effort to overcome the obstacles put in
front of us by the so-called Baby Friendly hospital.
Later my friend who is an OB nurse said those
O2 machines are notoriously wrong, and they just
put all those things in my cervix and gave me
pit to "make the distress show itself"
and get the thing over with.
What would I do differently?
1. not live in such a stressful time (no control
over that)
2. not waste precious money on midwife
3. have slept that week of labor, or tried to
sleep more
4. have inverted myself, to disengage her head
and try to get her lined up
5. researched hospitals better and arranged better
backup
Zella startled a lot, and still does. Despite
her horrible "welcome" into the world,
she is a happy, social baby who smiles a lot.
I wonder what she would have been like if she
had been born right? I have to live with that
forever.
I do not want to have another baby. I do not
trust the process, at least not for myself, even
though I made a healthy beautiful baby. I don't
know why my body gave me so much more than I could
handle.
-Michelle
Response to Michelle's story by site editor
LLM: "I know you had such
a tough time, but I know also that you CAN give
birth without a cesarean. You need lots of privacy
and peace, maybe hypnosis in birth would be good
for next time, should you decide to have another?
It can be extremely helpful in getting to that
peaceful place where birth comes best. Every woman
alive is built for birth, including you. Peace
and privacy really make all the difference. Find
more about hypnosis here."
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