Dear Emerson,
This is your birth story. By the time you are old enough to
read this, you will have a better understanding of how important the “birth
story” is in the Keele family. When I was growing up, Uncle Sean always made my mom tell him, me, and
Auntie Nicki the story of the day we were born. This was not a tradition that
could ever be skipped, even though by the time we were older we all had each
others birth stories memorized by heart. That didn’t matter. It was tradition
and it was imperative that this story be shared year after year. When I was
pregnant with you, I dreamed about the kind of birth you would have. Your dad
and I prayed a lot, meditated a lot, and said a lot of affirmations during my
pregnancy. I wanted to have a natural birth with you and I believed with all of
my heart that my body knew what to do. I believed that with every little twist
and turn during labor, your dad and I would be able to make decisions that were
aligned with our intentions, and that were in the best interest of you and your
safety. Well, as life would have it, I ended up needing a C-section to give
birth to you. A day or so after you were born, when you and I were both safe
and sound, and I was settling in to this new life with you; I thought about
your birth story and was so heart-broken about how things had unfolded. I
thought that because I didn’t give natural birth to you, that your story wasn’t
actually a “birth” story. I thought my body had failed me and that I had
succumbed to the pressure of having surgery to give you birth. I was devastated
and I had a lot of healing to do. So much so that it has taken me three years
to finally write your birth story, and here it is.
On Monday October 1st 2012, I went to the doctor
for a regular check-up. You were already 6 days overdue, but I was planning on
keeping you in my belly until you were ready to come out, and I wouldn’t have
done anything to make you come a minute sooner. When I arrived at the doctor’s
office, my regular doctor was unavailable, so I had to meet with the other
doctor in the practice. At the time I had preeclampsia, which means that my
body was swollen all over because it was retaining water. Preeclampsia can be
dangerous for the mother and baby if the swelling gets too great, so my doctor
wanted me to get induced to start labor. I did not want to get induced. I did
not want any medical interventions that were not necessary, and I knew that I
could manage my preeclampsia to keep us both safe. I told the doctor that getting
induced was not an option, and I asked her what alternative she could offer to
avoid or prolong induction. I wanted to buy myself more time so that you could
come on your own. The alternative she offered was spending the night at the
hospital and doing a 24 urine test. Although this was not ideal, it was my only
option available, and I took it. I went to the hospital that morning, and I
knew that once I checked in I wasn’t going to leave there until I had a baby.
It made me sad because I felt like I didn’t have much choice in the situation,
but I was still so happy that you would be here soon, and I knew it was still
possible to have my dream birth. Fast forward to 22 hours later (2 hours before
the 24 hour urine test was complete) and my doctor came into the room and
matter-of-factly told me that the staff was going to prepare a labor and
delivery room for me, and soon I would be moved there and we would begin
induction. As you can imagine, I was not okay with this. First of all, I was
all by myself. Daddy had gone back to work because we didn’t think anything was
going to happen that day. I told the doctor that number one, we needed to
complete this 24 hour urine test because that was the deal, number two I needed
to call my husband because I am not making any decisions without him, and
number three, as I told the doctor before, I was not going to be induced. I
told the doctor that once the 24 hours was up she could move me to a labor and
delivery room, but I was not going to be induced. Luckily by this time I had
started having mild contractions on my own, so we both knew that I was going to
begin labor soon anyways.
I was moved to the labor and delivery room, where I was
transferred from the care of my regular doctor to the care of the on-call
hospital doctor; a man I had never met before. It was the early afternoon by
this point and in his first meeting with me, it should be no surprise by this
point, he said we would begin induction soon. To which I replied, no, I will
not be getting induced today. He told me that my labor needed to start
progressing because my preeclampsia was getting worse and I needed to have this
baby. He said that he would come back in an hour, and if I had not started
dilating, he would give me Pitocin to start the induction process. I agreed,
and he left. The doctor came back in an hour later and my dilation had reached
his mark. Again, he told me that my labor needed to continue progressing, so he
gave me a new dilation that I needed to reach, and he would come back in an
hour to see if I had reached it. The rest of the day went on like this. He
would give me a mark to reach in my labor, with the threat of starting me on
Pitocin if I had not reached this mark, and every time he came back, I had met
his mark. Every time he left the room, Daddy and I focused our thoughts on
progressing my labor naturally, and that’s exactly what happened. This went on
until about 10:30pm when the doctor came back and said “okay, you’re fully dilated;
now I need your water to break. If your water does not break on it’s own by
midnight, I will break it for you”, then he left. Both of your grandma’s were
in the room with us and we asked them to leave so that we could focus on the
task at hand. After we were finally alone, Daddy led me through a guided meditation
and I fell asleep. I woke up at 11:45 screaming “I’m leaking” because, you
guessed it, my water broke. This is when the hard labor began. My doctor came
back to see me and gave me the green light to continue with labor naturally
without any interventions.
My nurse started working with me as the contractions grew
more intense. The nurse was kind, but I could tell she didn’t believe in me.
She had a vision in her mind of how my birth would go, and although she
entertained my birth plan, it was evident that she had a plan of her own. The
night proceeded like a teeter totter between her and I. She wanted me to lay on
my back hooked up to a monitor and IV, and I wanted to move freely and listen
to my body. I kept having to fight her just to do things like stand or sit on a
yoga ball. Finally, she was adamant that I get in the bed so that she could
secure a monitor around my belly. I agreed, but I told her that I wanted her to
attach the bar to the bed so that I could hold onto it while I labored, rather
than labor on my back, which was in excruciating pain. I had to really fight
her on this one. She was incredibly reluctant, but she finally got the bar and
attached it to the bed for me. I pushed and labored all night and through the
morning, and unfortunately, you wouldn’t budge. By the morning, your heart rate
was beginning to drop and the doctors and nurses were growing concerned that
the long labor was putting a strain on you, and something needed to be done to move
things along. My nurse suggested giving me an epidural to relax my muscles
since I had been laboring for so long and my muscles were tense by now. I
agreed. The anesthesiologist came and inserted the epidural needle in my back,
and told me that I would have four more contractions, and by the fifth one I
would not be able to feel them anymore. Four contractions came and went, then a
fifth, then a sixth and I could still feel everything. I told the doctor that I
could still feel everything, so he increased the amount of my epidural. Five
contractions came and went again and I could still feel everything.
The doctors were growing concerned, so they sat us down for
a talk. I was in bed and Daddy was sitting next to me and Grandma Bern and
Grandma Sue were in the room with us. The doctors told me that they were
concerned that you had not moved into the birth canal, and your heart was being
put under a lot of strain from the long labor. They needed you to be born soon,
and since my labor wasn’t progressing, they suggested having a C-Section. We asked
the doctors to leave the room, we prayed about it, and we decided to proceed
with the surgery. The doctors came back with the consent forms for me to sign
before going into surgery. The doctor went over the form with us and
methodically listed all of the risks associated with having a C-section, ending
with “complications from the surgery could lead to the death of the mother
and/or baby.” We collectively started sobbing, and I signed the papers.
The staff transported me to the Operating Room (OR) to get
me prepped for surgery. Once there, I sat on the side of the bed while they
stuck another huge needle in my back to numb me for the surgery. The
contractions were non-stop at this point and the most intense that they had
been thus far. Despite this, I had to hold completely still while they put the
spinal in my back. This was so hard to do. I thought I was doing a good job,
but the staff kept yelling at me to hold still. I’ll never forget the nurse
that was with me at the time. Her name was Joy, and she was my angel. This was
the scariest moment of my life. I was confused, exhausted, in pain, distraught,
and trying to sit still through tsunami contractions so that they could stick a
giant needle in my back. Joy stood right in front of me, firmly grasped both of
my hands in hers, rested her forehead on mine, looked me in the eyes and
whispered, “you can do this.” I didn’t believe I could find peace in that
moment, but thanks to Joy, I did. After they had successfully administered the
spinal I laid on my back, a curtain was hung over my belly, and the doctors and
nurses got to work. A moment later my doctor (now my actual doctor) said
“Danielle can you feel this? What am I doing?” I said yes, you’re pressing a
blade against my skin. She told the anesthesiologist that I needed more anesthetic,
and he increased the anesthesia in my IV. A few moments later my doctor asked
again, “Danielle, can you feel this? What am I doing?” I said yes, you’re
holding a blade against my skin. At this point, it had become evident that my
spinal wasn’t working either, and that I would need general anesthesia to
proceed with the surgery. This would mean that I would not be awake when you
were born. I started sobbing and asked for my husband, and the next thing I
knew an oxygen mask was coming down on my face and I was out.
I’ll side step for a moment to share what Daddy was
experiencing during all of this, because it’s important to this story too.
Daddy was waiting in the labor and delivery room and the nurse had told him
that they would only be gone for about 15 minutes to get me prepped for
surgery, and then she would come back and get him and take him to the OR.
Thirty minutes had passed and Daddy hadn’t heard from anyone. He was panicked.
The nurse finally came back and said “there has been some complications, we had
to put her to sleep, and that means that you can’t be in the room for the
surgery.” To which your dad replied, “absolutely not. I am not missing the
birth of my baby. Who do I need to talk to?” The nurse said that it would be up
to the anesthesiologist and she walked back to the OR to ask, and Daddy
followed close behind. The nurse got permission from the anesthesiologist for
Daddy to come in the room, so Daddy put on some hospital scrubs and sat right
by my side while they cut open my belly and pulled you out. They announced that
you were a baby boy, and Daddy got to see you and hold you for the first time.
Before I went in for surgery, I made Daddy promise that when you were born that
he would hold you skin-to-skin since I wouldn’t be able to. Even though the
nurse scoffed at this, Daddy promised me that he would, and he did just that.
He took you back to the labor and delivery room while I was being stitched back
up and he held you on his chest for the first hour of your life. He was so in
love, and so overwhelmed by the whole process that he didn’t even know what to
say to you. So he went with his gut and told you the first thing that came to
his mind; he taught you how to hit a curve ball J
As for me, after they put the oxygen mask on my face, the
next thing I knew I was waking up in the labor and delivery room with Daddy holding
you close to me saying “Danielle, it’s a boy! It’s a beautiful baby boy!” That
moment was so foggy and I so wish that I had a clearer memory of the moment I
first met you, but you were finally here, safe and sound, and I was so in love.
That was also the moment I began my healing, and even though it’s taken me
three years, I am finally able to write your birth story, and here is the
important part.
For years, I felt devastated over your birth. I was
frustrated that I had to fight with the doctors and nurses every step of the
way – it shouldn’t have been like that. And your C-section wasn’t an “emergency
C-section”, it was just an unplanned one. So I never felt completely confidant
that a C-section was the absolute most necessary step to take at that point in
my labor. I felt like I was the victim of the doctor and hospitals agenda, and
they didn’t care about me as a mother or an informed, intelligent, thoughtful
adult. At one point, when we were discussing having a C-section around 9:00am,
my doctor literally said to me, “if you want a C-section we should do it now
because there is an opening in the OR at 10:00am and if you wait too long we
don’t know when we’ll be able to get you in.” Wait, so was she saying that if I
had a true C-section emergency at say, 12:00pm they wouldn’t have been able to
perform emergency surgery on me? No, that’s not true, which is why it’s clear
that there is at least some truth to the notion that the doctor and hospital’s
agenda was prioritized above my wishes and needs as a mother. So for all of
these years I have been stewing over your birth. Feeling like I had an
unnecessary C-section, and that I didn’t do enough to protect the birth that I
had worked so hard to have.
That is until I met January Harshe. January runs an international
support group called Birth Without Fear, and it’s all about empowering mom’s to
have positive, supported birth experiences – whatever their birth preferences
may be. In 2014 I attended a Birth Without Fear seminar, and January gave a
talk. She told the birth stories of her five children. Her first two children
were born via C-section. After her first C-section she felt surprisingly okay
with it all. Her doctor had signed off on her birth plan and made sure that all
of the staff respected her choices. So even though her birth resulted in a C-section,
she felt at peace with it. Her second C-section was not such a positive
experience. She tried laboring at home and transferred to the hospital when
complications arrived. This doctor was not as caring and respectful, and after
the surgery she was left feeling depressed and grieving her birth. Wondering what the difference was between the
first birth and the second, she realized that the doctors and nurses were kind,
supportive, and uplifting in her first birth. They took her wishes very
seriously and did their best to give her the birth she wanted. And when it was
determined that a C-section would be necessary, they were extremely
compassionate and still tried to fulfill every birth wish she had such as
holding her baby skin to skin before the baby was examined by doctors. This is
when she realized, and I realized when she was telling this story, that a C-section
doesn’t have to be a negative experience. Just because that’s the way we gave
birth to our babies doesn’t take credit away from actually giving birth. It
doesn’t make what we did any less valuable, and it doesn’t make us any weaker
as mothers for having to choose it. After January so graciously shared this epiphany
with me, I looked back at my birth with you and here’s what I realized. I did fight hard for the birth I wanted.
If not for me, those doctors would have induced me a week sooner, and I still
probably would have ended up with a C-section. I am powerful, you know why? I was given an ultimatum, and I used my
inner strength to move my body. I used prayer and affirmation and jumpstarted
my own labor, without any
interventions. I believed in my body so much that I turned down every
intervention and willed my body to do what it needed to do anyway. I labored 24
hours with no epidural, and I’m proud of that. And whether the C-section was
necessary or not, I just have to let that go. So what, they finally got the
best of me. I had just labored for 24 hours while continually fighting with the
hospital staff, having no food, water, or sleep, and no drugs of any kind. They
took advantage of me when I was at my most vulnerable place in my life, which
says more about them than it does about me. And, as they say, I got a
beautiful, healthy thriving baby out of it, so I couldn’t possibly stay upset
forever.
So my baby boy, this is your birth story. To be proudly
proclaimed and repeated for the rest of your years with me on this planet,
because if I have learned anything from having you in my life, it’s that shame
does nothing but bring us down, and when we’ve done something incredible in
this life, we ought not to let that thing be watered down by fear and regret,
but rather be thrust into the air like a bright firework proclaiming for all
the world to hear; I am powerful, no matter what.
