Scarlet's Birth Story

I realized I had never shared Scarlet’s birth story, and there is a reason why. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to put out all those raw feelings for the world to judge and perhaps criticize. Scarlet was born 8 weeks premature. It was the most soul wrenching experience of my life, that I feel still effects my family today. People were unkind about her arrival into the world. I was accused of purposely having her at that time, of not opting for a vaginal birth, and of being lucky I didn’t have to ‘finish’ pregnancy. I was criticized for not nursing, for not spending enough time with her, for spending too much time with her, everything. It was a very difficult experience.

Now I would like to specify that I do not have what I like to call, “the preemie complex”. I describe this as an individual who is condescending towards other who hasn’t had to experience a premature child. I DO NOT think going a week after a due date is necessary or should be endured for the health of a baby. I DO NOT think induction is evil. I DO NOT think a schedule c section is evil. I DO NOT think it’s anybody’s business except yours and your doctors on how, when or where you choose to give birth. I DO NOT care if a late pregnant person complains about pregnancy. If I had ever made it to 38, 39, 40 weeks (heaven forbid later than that!) I would be complaining too!! As a matter of fact I complained when I was 36 weeks pregnant with Ella and had her 3 days later!! Just because my baby came into the world early does not mean I am a martyr suffering under a cross to bear. It happened. We’re doing our best to deal with it. Sometimes it's hard.

So on to my story!!

I went to my doctor’s appointment for 2 non stress tests on August 18^th and 19^th. I kept insisting that Scarlet wasn’t moving like she should. It felt like tiny flutters not good kicks. My placenta was anterior (on the front side) so I had a hard feeling her period. The doctor said the NST looked fine and she was just out of room and couldn’t move. I have a septated uterus so the baby only has half the space. But it just felt wrong. I called Brent on the way home sobbing. Something was just wrong. He kindly called the doctor and they had a nice chat. Dr. O told me to come in the next day, August 19^th to have a quick ultra sound.

I went to the doctor feeling foolish and like I had severely over reacted. I lay on the table and the nice ultra sound lady, Barb placed the wand on my belly. I saw a little face, a huge black spot, and two little feet. Barb gasped a little and began rapidly measuring and clicking and taking pictures. She looked at me with big eyes and said, “I’m going to go get the doctor.” She scampered out the door and within a few seconds had Dr. O at her side. His face was blank and grave and he had the appearance of wanting to remove expression until he knew more. The ultra sound revealed I had half the amount of required amniotic fluid and Scarlet’s bladder was swollen 10 times the normal size, and was filling her entire diaphragm.

I was admitted to Mesa View Hospital and pumped full of fluids for 24 hours. She needed to evacuate her bladder, and fill the amniotic sack back up.

It didn’t work.

Dr. O sent me to Sunrise hospital to have my specialist evaluate what came next. I went home, packed a bag, clung to Ella for a moment and was on my way. At about Apex I started having contractions and they grew more and more intense as we neared the hospital. I had this dreadful feeling in the pit of my stomach that has preceded many unpleasant occasions in my life and did not find it reassuring. I walked into Sunrise and had a horrible, overwhelming feeling that I was coming here to die. I stopped in the low ceilinged, narrow hallway and felt my heart pound. I was coming here for a terrible reason. I didn’t want to.

To shorten my saga, I waited until Monday morning to have a c section. I did not want a c section and did not choose to have one. Scarlet was frank breech. She was folded in half with her feet by her face and bottom down. She couldn’t turn to be born vaginally. They measured my amniotic fluid one last time, and there wasn’t any.

My lovely nurse Mia got my IV going and they wheeled me into surgery.  I was silently crying and admitted ot her I was afraid that I was afraid either me or my baby was going to die. She stopped what she was doing, took my hand and smiled. "Your baby is not going to die. You need her."

They put a drape up so I couldn’t see myself being cut into, but I could see my wonderful specialist face. He gave me the play by play of what he was doing and then he said, “And she’s out.”

He lifted her face over the drape for a brief second. She was bloody, and swollen and so ugly. The neonatal team swarmed to her and snatched her away and I could hear these pitiful little cries. Her legs were still bent in half and one was crooked from the way she was laying. They tied her down on the table and started sticking tubes in everything. I could feel my numb abdomen jerk as Dr. W and his assisting physician was stitching and stapling me closed.

They brought her to Brent and he placed her by my face. Her skin was swollen and bloated from having no fluid to sit in and the color was red from being too early. Everything was too skinny except her grotesque stomach. It was painfully stretched and had signs of bearing stretch marks from the skin being pulled too tight so quickly. She had a squashed, bent nose, swollen eyes, and feet about 2 inches long.

My heart broke when she looked at me and pitifully mewled a tiny, helpless cry. I touched her rough, dry cheek and the nurse told me to give her kiss and then whisked her away. She was put into a mobile, climate controlled pod and I didn’t see her for 2 days. I didn’t get to hold her for a week. And even then it was only if I threw a fit or cried for the nurse. And some of those heartless bitches wouldn’t even let me have her then.

I feel cheated out of Scarlet’s birth. I didn’t feel her move until 20 weeks, she never moved well, and then she stopped moving at 30 weeks. I didn’t get to go into labor and push her out and hear her cries and feel joy. I felt fear. I felt heart break. I felt pain.

So here is her birth story. Not the one we wanted, but the one we got.  

But here is my baby, and she is more than just what I got. She is the one I wanted. She is a choice spirit that chose me, and I her. And regardless of how hard the journey has been for us, and how much more we have ahead of us, we need each other.