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 18th and 19th. 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 19th 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.
3 comments:
Every birth story is beautiful in it's own right. This is beautiful, because the emotions are raw and real and the out-come, though it took a while, was a good one!
I too ran out of fluid but at 35 weeks with my middle child, and then 36 1/2 with the third. Not as early as you, but still scary. I couldn't imagine your pain.
And those who judge you...psht! Nobody goes through the same experiences, and everyone makes their decisions with their own gut. You did what was right for you, and it sounds like it worked great.
I remember wanting a home birth with no drugs with the first, HA! Little did I know it would take three full days of excruciating labor before I'd even begin to dialate WITH the help of drugs. Then ended up delivering at an eight, because my body just didn't cooperate. I was two weeks over due, because I was so afraid, like you, what everyone would think if I enduced AND, I am now 13 yrs later getting a hysterectomy because of the damage that was ensued by not getting the c-section because I was "too worried what people would think". People need to butt out and worry about themselves. KUDOS TO YOU for making your own decisions!
you will be so glad you wrote this down!
i agree with reyanna, every birth story is beautiful and different. when we get caught up with what we "want" for a birth we forget that all that matters is the baby.
i can't believe they didn't let you hold her when you wanted. i only had one nurse like that, and luckily only for a day. i think that was the most heartbreaking part of the nicu, not being in charge of your own child.
What a precious miracle she is! Your little Scarlet... and the nurse was right... You need her and she needs you.
Thanks for sharing your life experience... Hugs to you!
ToOdLeS.
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