Despite my disenchantment with my first delivery, I was blessed with a healthy recovery and a beautiful baby. By the time my fertility returned I was hoping that my first child would have siblings, and soon. In God's great generosity, my prayers were answered: my first two would be 20 months apart. This time around we found out what we were having: a boy! We had a name that we had always wanted for a boy. We had to move out of our one bedroom apartment into a two bedroom town house, which was an exciting "step up" for us as a married couple. We celebrated our second anniversary and 6 months later, I was having a very honest conversation with my ob-gyn. I explained that I had torn badly with my first. I explained that she was over 9 pounds, and that I'd dearly love to avoid a repeat experience. The doctor confirmed and expanded my fears. She explained that babies did tend to get bigger with subsequent pregnancies and that boys tended to be bigger than girls. She said that we could set an induction early due to "macro-cephalia" (don't hold me to that medical term, but it meant "big head"). I further explained that the water breaking sent me into transition immediately (I failed to mention that I dilate a ton very early, which explains that to some degree.) So, I was told that we could do a better job of simulating normal and more gradual labor if I was put on pitocin and given incrementally increasing doses. It sounded like a good plan to me.
The date was set, and could you believe that once again I was sent home?! The hospital had made a scheduling error. My emotions threatened to repeat an unpleasant past. This time, however, we were able to return at 10am, so I avoided tears, if not a healthy critique of the medical establishment on the way home.
At 10 am I was given my first dose of pitocin. I waited and the pitocin was increased. By noon I was getting hungry, and there were no contractions. My doctor came in and I queried as to whether or not it wouldn't help to break my water...given that nothing was happening at all. The doctor told me that a woman had just been on pitocin for 32 hours (!!) and was now going in for a c-section because it went on too long. He suggested that breaking my water was a great option. Great option, minus the fact that I hoped to go naturally and breaking my water throws me into immediate transition. So, the water was broken, and I felt one contraction about 10 seconds later. Transition strength, super painful contraction. My thoughts? "Oh heck no!" I was not about to repeat the trauma of my first birth. I called for an epidural, got one, and my son was born in two hours. Actually, he was ready to be birthed before then, but I had to wait for twenty minutes (not that I felt anything) since the doctor was tied up in that aforementioned c-section.
In a crazy twist of fate, I am friends with that lady who had the c-section. Our children are 20 minutes apart in age. She got the shaft (treatment wise) too, since the doctor had promised that he would be the one to carefully stitch her up with a specialty stitch. Since he dashed off to catch my baby, she had someone else finish her surgery.
My Mom was there to help me with my daughter while I had this birth. She arrived to see me, four hours after delivery, attempt to stand for the first time (after having been catheterized, which luckily held no further complications for me) and witnessed my right leg buckle under me since the pitocin had not worn off yet. Of course, it did wear off, but it frightened my mother to death. She thought I'd never walk again after that needle in my spine. And, quibble as you may about my mother's grasp on medical reality, it threw me to hear her so upset about my birthing decisions. She also suggested that waiting to push with my baby in the birth canal might have resulted in damage to my child. Once again, super huge blow to my fun alternative to the trauma of my first natural birth.
Can you tell we're on our path to birth story #3? It's ok. That's the one where God swoops in and shows me that births can be natural and beautiful. That's the one where my faith in myself as a woman is restored. But that's next time!
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