Before I begin my birth story, I think it is important to note that I had a wonderful, magical, and powerful homebirth with DD#1 over 3 years ago. So I went into this experience with high expectations.
This baby had trouble from the start. When I was just 6 weeks pregnant, I started bleeding heavily, cramping, and passing clots. I thought for sure it was a miscarriage. My DH and I mourned. Late the following day, I decided I should go to the doctor just to be sure I would be okay. I was so surprised to find that I was still pregnant!
But from that moment on I was so worried that something would go wrong and we would lose our little blessing.
The bleeding continued until I was about 20 weeks along. Our ultrasound at that time showed a very healthy, very average growth baby girl. We were thrilled, but some part of me still feared that something would go wrong. I decided to do shadow care with an OB in addition to the care of my HBMW. It reassured me that if something went wrong late in the pregnancy, I would have a doctor to turn to. I continued care with the OB until the 36 week mark, when I knew they would press me to get the GBS test, which I didn't want. From that point on, I saw only my HBMW.
My DD#1 had arrived 5 days early, so we were ready to go a full week in advance. I had all the supplies, house clean, laundry done, and a full fridge. But this little one kept us waiting. As the days dragged on and I went further and further past due, I started thinking that maybe I was going to lose this child during the birth, and I was going past due because she wanted to stay with me as long as possible. I discussed this fear with my MW, and felt reassured that the birth would go well. I had painful contractions off and on for 3 weeks, so I knew I was gearing up for the birth, but the waiting was terrible. My DH set up the birth tub when I was 40+4, so I got to walk past a daily reminder of the fact that I was supposed to be going into labor any minute. I was not nice to be around.
At 41+2, I started taking RRL tincture to try to give a little nudge and get this labor going. I also bounced on my birth ball and tried to think positive thoughts about the upcoming labor and our new baby. I also did some stair inversions to try to get her to turn, but she remained stubbornly OP. But something must have done the trick!
At 3:00 am the next morning I awoke to my water breaking all over the place. I tried to sit up, but that just made it gush faster. I woke DH and said "Get me a towel!" He was so groggy and sleepy that he didn't really understand. Here I am gushing all over the bed, and he is sort of plodding around sleepily asking me what towel I want. Needless to say, the bed was soaked by the time he got the towel. The flow finally stopped, but no ctx. DH and I stripped and remade the bed, complete with a crib liner over my giant wet spot, and I threw the sheets and mattress pad in the washing machine. Then we went back to bed and tried to sleep.
Ctx started at 3:30. I got my iPad and put on the birth mix I had made, and tried to time them. 3:48, 4:07, 4:18...hooray! Around 4:30 I decided I needed to get in the tub to deal with the intensity of the contractions, and I knew I was having a baby that morning. DH filled the tub and I got in. Ah, blessed relief! With the help of the water I could just focus on letting the pain roll through me, and listen to my music in between. By 5:00 I could tell things were moving quickly, and I told DH to call the MW. "When do you want her to come?" he asked. "Soon." I replied.
The next hour passed quickly as I entered my labor zone. Near the end of the hour I started vomiting with each contraction. I would moan to my DH "It's not fair that I have to throw up and have a contraction at the same time." He was wonderful. A true rock helping me through each pain. My contractions also started double and triple peaking, which had happened with my DD#1, but is terrible. So I would moan "Where's my break? I'm supposed to get breaks!" My feet and legs were also falling asleep from kneeling for hours, so I was shifting around trying to ease that pain in my legs while still working on managing the frequent and very powerful contractions.
My MW arrived around 6 and set up all her supplies. She looked at me and thought I was close, so called her assistant to come right over. My MIL, who was staying at our house, was in and out of the room as she was in charge of my DD, who I was sure would wake up with all the noise and commotion.
At 6:30, the MW used the doppler to check HR. At the time I was sitting on my bottom trying to ease my legs. We could all tell instantly that it was too slow. I got back to kneeling, but the HR did not improve. Later I learned it was around 100, which while slow, is not in the super dangerous range. At the time, all I knew was that labor was distressing my baby. The MW ordered me out of the tub. I asked if I could wait until the contraction was over, but she said no, out now. This is when the fear returned, and I thought I maybe was headed for a stillbirth. I climbed out of the tub and lay on the bed on my left side. They had some trouble finding the HR, but when the did it seemed better. I asked if it was good, but nobody answered me.
Out of the tub, the contractions went from manageable to intensely painful. They were still double and triple peaking, but now it was a fiery pain that gripped me back and front, and left me howling. The MW were checking the HR all the time. Sometimes they couldn't find it, and each time they gave up without hearing it, I thought my baby had died. I was so scared, and trying to force my body to work faster. My only reassurance was when they did find the HR, and that little thump, thump, thump on the doppler would give me hope. My MW decided to check my dilation. I know now that she couldn't get a good feel, but all I knew is that it was painful to be touched anywhere at the time, and more so to have fingers in me. She said "There's still cervix there," and I thought I would cry. I had no idea what that meant, but at the time, in my pain, I thought maybe I was only 3 or 4 centimeters, and she didn't want to say. I started thinking maybe I was wrong to have another HB, and I told my DH "I'm not sure how long I can do this for." My coping strategies were failing due to the pain and my fear of harming my baby by listening to my body.
At some point DD came in very excited, but she wanted to touch me and I didn't want to be touched. So my MIL took her downstairs to open some surprise presents. She had to be dragged out of the room howling. She wanted to watch me labor and birth, but couldn't help but want to touch me.
The MW's were still listening for the HR all the time, and around 7:15 they decided I should flip to my right side. I had started pushing a tiny bit with each contraction, and they were worried that I wasn't fully effaced (although nobody checked me.) Once again I was told I needed to do it "now" when I asked for a minute to collect myself. On the right side, however, the pain in my back started to ease, and I felt the urge to push. The contractions were still super painful, but I felt I had to push hard and often because I was still laboring under the idea that my baby was in distress. (I know now that the HR was fine the entire time after I was out of the water, and their problems finding it was due to the assistant's lack of experience, not any problems with baby. They did see variations that made them nervous, but nothing that is outside normal levels. They were also not listening to me and measuring during contractions as well as in between, no doubt causing the variations they observed.
)
I pushed on my side for about 40 minutes, with my MW frequently checking baby's decent. I didn't want to be touched, but had given up having anybody listen to me. My DH kept telling me to breathe deeply, and I finally snapped "I am F$%#ing breathing! Shut the F#$@ up!" I know now that he, too, was frightened for both me and the baby. He could tell the MW's were worried, but didn't really know why. My labor was following the exact same pattern as DD#1.
At 8:00 I was told this baby needed to come out now, and I needed to get up on all fours. I climbed up on all fours and tried to find a comfortable position, but the MW kept instructing DH to get me more upright, although I wanted to be more flat. They kept saying "we need baby out now!" I was so scared. Finally, they brought in my birth ball, and I leaned on that while I gently pushed the head down. As the ring of fire kicked in, I shouted "I don't want to tear!" to which my MW replied "Slowly, slowly." I tried to ease her head out slowly, but the pain was intense. I could feel somebody pressing on my perineum. and I wanted to them to stop. I screamed "Don't push, don't push!" and heard them say "It's the baby," then her head was out. I reached back and felt it, then pushed again hard and burned again as her body emerged all tangled in the cord.
My DD#2 came out at 8:15 am with the cord around her neck, then tangled around her body and arms, and wrapped around a leg. I'm sure being all tied up caused the delay in labor, as well as making it hard to pass her curled up body down my birth canal.
DD cried right away in a loud, daytime movie way, and was placed on my belly as I lay back in bed. I was so amazed to see her healthy and well. She was so strong and healthy, clearly not traumatized by her birth at all. I started to believe that everything would be okay. She was trying to get a huge blob of snot out of her mouth, it was moving in and out with each breath, causing her to cough and gag. I said "can we suck that up please?" to which the MW replied "She's fine. Let her clear it." Yet another time when my requests weren't heard. Finally the assistant used a tissue to wipe it away when she coughed it up yet again. DD climbed up on the bed shouting "Hello baby sister! It's your birthday party!" She was so cute and excited. She couldn't wait to touch baby. MIL had brought her back in when baby was crowing. DH had tears in his eyes, and was so proud of me.
About 20 minutes later, my MW pulled on the cord. "Ouch!" I said, "Don't do that!" "Just checking." She replied. Shortly after I started having painful contractions again. DH took DD#1 downstairs to bake a birthday cake. DD#2 was on my chest, and I started feeling like I couldn't hold her safely and feel these pains. I handed her to my MIL, but the cord was still attached. They clamped and cut the cord, and my MIL took her away to get her some clothing. Then my MW started massaging my belly, and pulling on the cord. "Stop!" I yelled, "That really hurts! I'm cramping!" "You're cramping because the placenta's in there and it needs to come out," my MW replied without stopping what she was doing.
My DD#1's placenta took almost an hour to be born, and I never had strong contractions with her. I couldn't understand the rush. "Just wait a minute." My MW said "I don't want to 'one minute you' into a bad situation. We can't wait." She massaged and tugged again.
"Stop!" I yelled again. "Let me do this my way!" The MW stopped, and I kneeled on the bed. I was trying to take a couple deep breaths and collect myself to push it out when the MW tugged the cord again. "Don't do that!" I said. "Just checking." She replied. I pushed hard and felt something pass. "Ah, there it is!" I said and lay down. "No," replied my MW, "That was just clots."
Clots? At this point I knew I was in trouble. "Can we give you a shot of pictocin?" "Yes!" I lay back and they gave me the shot. They were talking to each other, but I was starting to feel light headed, dizzy, and very tired. I pushed again. More clots. They gave me a second shot. My MW decided to try to extract the placenta with her hand. She put her fingers in, but left her thumb out. The pressure of her thumb on my labia was more painful then the birth. I screamed. "Stop! Stop!" "We have to get it out or you're going to the hospital." "I'll go! I'll go! Just don't do that to me again!" She didn't get anything out for her efforts. After a moment, she tried again, correctly this time with all fingers in, but all she got was clots. It hurt terribly, but not as bad as when she had left her thumb out. I'm crying, "Stop! I'll go to hospital. Please don't do that again. I'll go, I'll go. Just don't do that again."
The MW tells my MIL to get DH. When he comes in, they tell him, "We think it's time to consider calling the paramedics and transferring to the hospital." He calls 911 immediately. He said I looked so pale, and that blood was everywhere. The MW put oxygen on me and tell me not to sleep. I'm tired, but aware enough to correct DH when he gives the wrong age to the 911 operator. The paramedics arrive, and come upstairs. They stop and knock on the door. "Paramedics, may we come in?" Everyone yells "Yes!" Two young men come in, and calmly one of them starts an IV while the other calls for the firemen to assist in moving me downstairs. They are calm and kind. I'm worried that I have 5 men I don't know looking at me naked, but they don't seem to notice. They assure me that I will be wrapped in a sheet so I won't give the neighbors a show. They ask if we're bringing baby too. "No! I don't want my baby admitted to the hospital!" They ask me what hospital I want, and I name the closest one, although consider the further one that is new and supposedly "the place" to have a posh birth.
They get a sheet under me, then carry me downstairs to the stretcher. Another paramedic leans over me and says she saw my baby, and she is beautiful, healthy, and perfect. I'm reassured. I ask if I can lay on my side. They say yes.
The ambulance ride is bumpy, and I'm worried I'm going to be sick. They ask if they can give me something for nausea. I say yes. They ask if they can give me something for pain. I ask what they have. Morphine or Fentanyl. I say Fentanyl, but just a little. They are amused by my answer, and give me the shot. We are stopped. "Are we there?" I ask. "Nope, we're at the light." Stoplights? Am I bleeding out waiting at a red light? Guess it can't be too bad, right?
We get to the hospital and I'm wheeled for what seems like miles. Down a hall, up an elevator, and into a L&D room. I'm groggy, but aware that I have five nurses and a doctor rushing around me. They are upset about the line from the paramedics. Too slow? They want another port of access, and are having trouble. I have somebody trying on each side. Finally they get a second IV in. My BP is 60/20. My DH asks if they are going to surgically remove the placenta. The doctor says no because if they put me under now, I might not come back. I see my DH looking so pale and worried. They are pumping me full of fluids. They ask if I want more Fentanyl. Pain is overtaking my world. I say yes. My feet are put in stirrups. The doctor reaches in and removes the placenta. Everyone sighs in relief. My BP is coming up. The doctor asks if I want my tears sutured. I say yes. She gives me a numbing shot, then puts one stitch on one side, and one on the other. My DH said he couldn't even see the tears she stitched. Everyone is calm now. A couple nurses clean me up, then one of them sits down on the computer by the bed and starts typing. My MW arrives and starts asking questions and completing her chart. My MIL shows up with my kids. Everyone is happy to see me looking better. The nurse says we gave everyone quite a scare, and there is nervous laughter.
I find out my DD#2 is 8 lbs, 1 oz., 21 inches long. The MW washed her hair with baby shampoo before they brought her. I'm annoyed that she smells like shampoo and not like newborn, but I'm too tired to care too much. The MW leaves, and my family settles in.
The first day in the hospital I'm in terrible shape. When I stand I start shaking uncontrollably, feel bitter cold, and grow lightheaded. The nurses have to help me to the bathroom, and one of them washes me in the shower at my request. I feel lousy. I agree to IV antibiotics, since several people had their hand inside me. I start having doses every 4 hours. I ask DH what DD#2's middle name should be. He suggests naming her after "one of the women here who saved your life." I realize how traumatic this is for DH, and wonder if I was dying. By day two, by CBC shows blood levels less than half of normal. The nurses think I lost 3 liters of blood. I'm given two units of concentrated blood, and start to feel better. They consider sending me home with instructions to follow up with my OB the next day, but I decided to stay one more night so I can just go home for good the next day.
The hospital staff are nurturing, kind, and compassionate. I wonder what it would have been like to labor with them. My father comes to visit and says "I'm only going to say it once. I told you so. I wish you had been in the hospital." I'm an emotional wreck. I cry often. DD#2 is perfect, but her birth was not.
I know now that it is because I went with an inexperienced MW. In her 3 years of practice, she had never done a labor like mine. She was overwhelmed by the intensity, speed, and varying HR seen at my labor. She didn't communicate well with me during the birth, causing me unnecessary fear. She was impatient to get the placenta out. I will always wonder how DD#2 birth would have been different with a different MW, or in the hospital setting. I will never know if my hemorrhage was inevitable or due to my MW tugging on the cord. It will be months before I'm not anemic. This is supposed to be our last baby, but now I wish for another labor just to replace this one in my mind. I'm still traumatized, but starting to get over it. I mourn for the peaceful, powerful, and wonderful homebirth I was prepared to have, and could have had.
But I also count my blessings. My daughters are happy, healthy, and strong. My DD#1 got to see her sister born, and greet her moments after she arrived in the world. She is over the moon about "her baby." My DD#2 was never a patient at the hospital, never had drugs, and was held by her family for almost the entire first 24 hours of her life, minus the ride to the hospital. I fought for my DD#2 birth, and won. I am a birthing warrior. I overcame pain and fear to bring DD#2 into the world at home. The hospital was a place of healing for me, as I was cared for and nurtured so lovingly as I cried and took my first steps toward recovery.
I am now one week PP. It is hard for me to tell this story, but I hope it will grow easier in time. Thank you for "listening" by reading it all. It helps to write. The support of the MDC community has helped me throughout my rough pregnancy, and I suspect it will continue to be a valuable source of strength for me as I learn to parent, breastfeed, and treasure two.
This baby had trouble from the start. When I was just 6 weeks pregnant, I started bleeding heavily, cramping, and passing clots. I thought for sure it was a miscarriage. My DH and I mourned. Late the following day, I decided I should go to the doctor just to be sure I would be okay. I was so surprised to find that I was still pregnant!
But from that moment on I was so worried that something would go wrong and we would lose our little blessing.The bleeding continued until I was about 20 weeks along. Our ultrasound at that time showed a very healthy, very average growth baby girl. We were thrilled, but some part of me still feared that something would go wrong. I decided to do shadow care with an OB in addition to the care of my HBMW. It reassured me that if something went wrong late in the pregnancy, I would have a doctor to turn to. I continued care with the OB until the 36 week mark, when I knew they would press me to get the GBS test, which I didn't want. From that point on, I saw only my HBMW.
My DD#1 had arrived 5 days early, so we were ready to go a full week in advance. I had all the supplies, house clean, laundry done, and a full fridge. But this little one kept us waiting. As the days dragged on and I went further and further past due, I started thinking that maybe I was going to lose this child during the birth, and I was going past due because she wanted to stay with me as long as possible. I discussed this fear with my MW, and felt reassured that the birth would go well. I had painful contractions off and on for 3 weeks, so I knew I was gearing up for the birth, but the waiting was terrible. My DH set up the birth tub when I was 40+4, so I got to walk past a daily reminder of the fact that I was supposed to be going into labor any minute. I was not nice to be around.
At 41+2, I started taking RRL tincture to try to give a little nudge and get this labor going. I also bounced on my birth ball and tried to think positive thoughts about the upcoming labor and our new baby. I also did some stair inversions to try to get her to turn, but she remained stubbornly OP. But something must have done the trick!
At 3:00 am the next morning I awoke to my water breaking all over the place. I tried to sit up, but that just made it gush faster. I woke DH and said "Get me a towel!" He was so groggy and sleepy that he didn't really understand. Here I am gushing all over the bed, and he is sort of plodding around sleepily asking me what towel I want. Needless to say, the bed was soaked by the time he got the towel. The flow finally stopped, but no ctx. DH and I stripped and remade the bed, complete with a crib liner over my giant wet spot, and I threw the sheets and mattress pad in the washing machine. Then we went back to bed and tried to sleep.
Ctx started at 3:30. I got my iPad and put on the birth mix I had made, and tried to time them. 3:48, 4:07, 4:18...hooray! Around 4:30 I decided I needed to get in the tub to deal with the intensity of the contractions, and I knew I was having a baby that morning. DH filled the tub and I got in. Ah, blessed relief! With the help of the water I could just focus on letting the pain roll through me, and listen to my music in between. By 5:00 I could tell things were moving quickly, and I told DH to call the MW. "When do you want her to come?" he asked. "Soon." I replied.
The next hour passed quickly as I entered my labor zone. Near the end of the hour I started vomiting with each contraction. I would moan to my DH "It's not fair that I have to throw up and have a contraction at the same time." He was wonderful. A true rock helping me through each pain. My contractions also started double and triple peaking, which had happened with my DD#1, but is terrible. So I would moan "Where's my break? I'm supposed to get breaks!" My feet and legs were also falling asleep from kneeling for hours, so I was shifting around trying to ease that pain in my legs while still working on managing the frequent and very powerful contractions.
My MW arrived around 6 and set up all her supplies. She looked at me and thought I was close, so called her assistant to come right over. My MIL, who was staying at our house, was in and out of the room as she was in charge of my DD, who I was sure would wake up with all the noise and commotion.
At 6:30, the MW used the doppler to check HR. At the time I was sitting on my bottom trying to ease my legs. We could all tell instantly that it was too slow. I got back to kneeling, but the HR did not improve. Later I learned it was around 100, which while slow, is not in the super dangerous range. At the time, all I knew was that labor was distressing my baby. The MW ordered me out of the tub. I asked if I could wait until the contraction was over, but she said no, out now. This is when the fear returned, and I thought I maybe was headed for a stillbirth. I climbed out of the tub and lay on the bed on my left side. They had some trouble finding the HR, but when the did it seemed better. I asked if it was good, but nobody answered me.
Out of the tub, the contractions went from manageable to intensely painful. They were still double and triple peaking, but now it was a fiery pain that gripped me back and front, and left me howling. The MW were checking the HR all the time. Sometimes they couldn't find it, and each time they gave up without hearing it, I thought my baby had died. I was so scared, and trying to force my body to work faster. My only reassurance was when they did find the HR, and that little thump, thump, thump on the doppler would give me hope. My MW decided to check my dilation. I know now that she couldn't get a good feel, but all I knew is that it was painful to be touched anywhere at the time, and more so to have fingers in me. She said "There's still cervix there," and I thought I would cry. I had no idea what that meant, but at the time, in my pain, I thought maybe I was only 3 or 4 centimeters, and she didn't want to say. I started thinking maybe I was wrong to have another HB, and I told my DH "I'm not sure how long I can do this for." My coping strategies were failing due to the pain and my fear of harming my baby by listening to my body.
At some point DD came in very excited, but she wanted to touch me and I didn't want to be touched. So my MIL took her downstairs to open some surprise presents. She had to be dragged out of the room howling. She wanted to watch me labor and birth, but couldn't help but want to touch me.
The MW's were still listening for the HR all the time, and around 7:15 they decided I should flip to my right side. I had started pushing a tiny bit with each contraction, and they were worried that I wasn't fully effaced (although nobody checked me.) Once again I was told I needed to do it "now" when I asked for a minute to collect myself. On the right side, however, the pain in my back started to ease, and I felt the urge to push. The contractions were still super painful, but I felt I had to push hard and often because I was still laboring under the idea that my baby was in distress. (I know now that the HR was fine the entire time after I was out of the water, and their problems finding it was due to the assistant's lack of experience, not any problems with baby. They did see variations that made them nervous, but nothing that is outside normal levels. They were also not listening to me and measuring during contractions as well as in between, no doubt causing the variations they observed.
)I pushed on my side for about 40 minutes, with my MW frequently checking baby's decent. I didn't want to be touched, but had given up having anybody listen to me. My DH kept telling me to breathe deeply, and I finally snapped "I am F$%#ing breathing! Shut the F#$@ up!" I know now that he, too, was frightened for both me and the baby. He could tell the MW's were worried, but didn't really know why. My labor was following the exact same pattern as DD#1.
At 8:00 I was told this baby needed to come out now, and I needed to get up on all fours. I climbed up on all fours and tried to find a comfortable position, but the MW kept instructing DH to get me more upright, although I wanted to be more flat. They kept saying "we need baby out now!" I was so scared. Finally, they brought in my birth ball, and I leaned on that while I gently pushed the head down. As the ring of fire kicked in, I shouted "I don't want to tear!" to which my MW replied "Slowly, slowly." I tried to ease her head out slowly, but the pain was intense. I could feel somebody pressing on my perineum. and I wanted to them to stop. I screamed "Don't push, don't push!" and heard them say "It's the baby," then her head was out. I reached back and felt it, then pushed again hard and burned again as her body emerged all tangled in the cord.
My DD#2 came out at 8:15 am with the cord around her neck, then tangled around her body and arms, and wrapped around a leg. I'm sure being all tied up caused the delay in labor, as well as making it hard to pass her curled up body down my birth canal.
DD cried right away in a loud, daytime movie way, and was placed on my belly as I lay back in bed. I was so amazed to see her healthy and well. She was so strong and healthy, clearly not traumatized by her birth at all. I started to believe that everything would be okay. She was trying to get a huge blob of snot out of her mouth, it was moving in and out with each breath, causing her to cough and gag. I said "can we suck that up please?" to which the MW replied "She's fine. Let her clear it." Yet another time when my requests weren't heard. Finally the assistant used a tissue to wipe it away when she coughed it up yet again. DD climbed up on the bed shouting "Hello baby sister! It's your birthday party!" She was so cute and excited. She couldn't wait to touch baby. MIL had brought her back in when baby was crowing. DH had tears in his eyes, and was so proud of me.
About 20 minutes later, my MW pulled on the cord. "Ouch!" I said, "Don't do that!" "Just checking." She replied. Shortly after I started having painful contractions again. DH took DD#1 downstairs to bake a birthday cake. DD#2 was on my chest, and I started feeling like I couldn't hold her safely and feel these pains. I handed her to my MIL, but the cord was still attached. They clamped and cut the cord, and my MIL took her away to get her some clothing. Then my MW started massaging my belly, and pulling on the cord. "Stop!" I yelled, "That really hurts! I'm cramping!" "You're cramping because the placenta's in there and it needs to come out," my MW replied without stopping what she was doing.
My DD#1's placenta took almost an hour to be born, and I never had strong contractions with her. I couldn't understand the rush. "Just wait a minute." My MW said "I don't want to 'one minute you' into a bad situation. We can't wait." She massaged and tugged again.
"Stop!" I yelled again. "Let me do this my way!" The MW stopped, and I kneeled on the bed. I was trying to take a couple deep breaths and collect myself to push it out when the MW tugged the cord again. "Don't do that!" I said. "Just checking." She replied. I pushed hard and felt something pass. "Ah, there it is!" I said and lay down. "No," replied my MW, "That was just clots."
Clots? At this point I knew I was in trouble. "Can we give you a shot of pictocin?" "Yes!" I lay back and they gave me the shot. They were talking to each other, but I was starting to feel light headed, dizzy, and very tired. I pushed again. More clots. They gave me a second shot. My MW decided to try to extract the placenta with her hand. She put her fingers in, but left her thumb out. The pressure of her thumb on my labia was more painful then the birth. I screamed. "Stop! Stop!" "We have to get it out or you're going to the hospital." "I'll go! I'll go! Just don't do that to me again!" She didn't get anything out for her efforts. After a moment, she tried again, correctly this time with all fingers in, but all she got was clots. It hurt terribly, but not as bad as when she had left her thumb out. I'm crying, "Stop! I'll go to hospital. Please don't do that again. I'll go, I'll go. Just don't do that again."
The MW tells my MIL to get DH. When he comes in, they tell him, "We think it's time to consider calling the paramedics and transferring to the hospital." He calls 911 immediately. He said I looked so pale, and that blood was everywhere. The MW put oxygen on me and tell me not to sleep. I'm tired, but aware enough to correct DH when he gives the wrong age to the 911 operator. The paramedics arrive, and come upstairs. They stop and knock on the door. "Paramedics, may we come in?" Everyone yells "Yes!" Two young men come in, and calmly one of them starts an IV while the other calls for the firemen to assist in moving me downstairs. They are calm and kind. I'm worried that I have 5 men I don't know looking at me naked, but they don't seem to notice. They assure me that I will be wrapped in a sheet so I won't give the neighbors a show. They ask if we're bringing baby too. "No! I don't want my baby admitted to the hospital!" They ask me what hospital I want, and I name the closest one, although consider the further one that is new and supposedly "the place" to have a posh birth.
They get a sheet under me, then carry me downstairs to the stretcher. Another paramedic leans over me and says she saw my baby, and she is beautiful, healthy, and perfect. I'm reassured. I ask if I can lay on my side. They say yes.
The ambulance ride is bumpy, and I'm worried I'm going to be sick. They ask if they can give me something for nausea. I say yes. They ask if they can give me something for pain. I ask what they have. Morphine or Fentanyl. I say Fentanyl, but just a little. They are amused by my answer, and give me the shot. We are stopped. "Are we there?" I ask. "Nope, we're at the light." Stoplights? Am I bleeding out waiting at a red light? Guess it can't be too bad, right?
We get to the hospital and I'm wheeled for what seems like miles. Down a hall, up an elevator, and into a L&D room. I'm groggy, but aware that I have five nurses and a doctor rushing around me. They are upset about the line from the paramedics. Too slow? They want another port of access, and are having trouble. I have somebody trying on each side. Finally they get a second IV in. My BP is 60/20. My DH asks if they are going to surgically remove the placenta. The doctor says no because if they put me under now, I might not come back. I see my DH looking so pale and worried. They are pumping me full of fluids. They ask if I want more Fentanyl. Pain is overtaking my world. I say yes. My feet are put in stirrups. The doctor reaches in and removes the placenta. Everyone sighs in relief. My BP is coming up. The doctor asks if I want my tears sutured. I say yes. She gives me a numbing shot, then puts one stitch on one side, and one on the other. My DH said he couldn't even see the tears she stitched. Everyone is calm now. A couple nurses clean me up, then one of them sits down on the computer by the bed and starts typing. My MW arrives and starts asking questions and completing her chart. My MIL shows up with my kids. Everyone is happy to see me looking better. The nurse says we gave everyone quite a scare, and there is nervous laughter.
I find out my DD#2 is 8 lbs, 1 oz., 21 inches long. The MW washed her hair with baby shampoo before they brought her. I'm annoyed that she smells like shampoo and not like newborn, but I'm too tired to care too much. The MW leaves, and my family settles in.
The first day in the hospital I'm in terrible shape. When I stand I start shaking uncontrollably, feel bitter cold, and grow lightheaded. The nurses have to help me to the bathroom, and one of them washes me in the shower at my request. I feel lousy. I agree to IV antibiotics, since several people had their hand inside me. I start having doses every 4 hours. I ask DH what DD#2's middle name should be. He suggests naming her after "one of the women here who saved your life." I realize how traumatic this is for DH, and wonder if I was dying. By day two, by CBC shows blood levels less than half of normal. The nurses think I lost 3 liters of blood. I'm given two units of concentrated blood, and start to feel better. They consider sending me home with instructions to follow up with my OB the next day, but I decided to stay one more night so I can just go home for good the next day.
The hospital staff are nurturing, kind, and compassionate. I wonder what it would have been like to labor with them. My father comes to visit and says "I'm only going to say it once. I told you so. I wish you had been in the hospital." I'm an emotional wreck. I cry often. DD#2 is perfect, but her birth was not.
I know now that it is because I went with an inexperienced MW. In her 3 years of practice, she had never done a labor like mine. She was overwhelmed by the intensity, speed, and varying HR seen at my labor. She didn't communicate well with me during the birth, causing me unnecessary fear. She was impatient to get the placenta out. I will always wonder how DD#2 birth would have been different with a different MW, or in the hospital setting. I will never know if my hemorrhage was inevitable or due to my MW tugging on the cord. It will be months before I'm not anemic. This is supposed to be our last baby, but now I wish for another labor just to replace this one in my mind. I'm still traumatized, but starting to get over it. I mourn for the peaceful, powerful, and wonderful homebirth I was prepared to have, and could have had.
But I also count my blessings. My daughters are happy, healthy, and strong. My DD#1 got to see her sister born, and greet her moments after she arrived in the world. She is over the moon about "her baby." My DD#2 was never a patient at the hospital, never had drugs, and was held by her family for almost the entire first 24 hours of her life, minus the ride to the hospital. I fought for my DD#2 birth, and won. I am a birthing warrior. I overcame pain and fear to bring DD#2 into the world at home. The hospital was a place of healing for me, as I was cared for and nurtured so lovingly as I cried and took my first steps toward recovery.
I am now one week PP. It is hard for me to tell this story, but I hope it will grow easier in time. Thank you for "listening" by reading it all. It helps to write. The support of the MDC community has helped me throughout my rough pregnancy, and I suspect it will continue to be a valuable source of strength for me as I learn to parent, breastfeed, and treasure two.
You did a great job under tremendous (and needless) stress--yay for you, and your new girl, and all who love and helped you 
