Emerson's Birth Story

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 1^st 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.