OUR BIRTH STORY
TRIGGER WARNING: The following content contains details about birth trauma, surgery, and mentions of blood. This story may be distressing for some.
This is hard to write.
It has taken me nearly 3 months to hit publish, but I finally feel ready to share our birth story. I had a very smooth and healthy pregnancy, but yet, a very traumatic birth. Please know that what happened to me is a 1 in 200 chance and not meant to scare any expecting mamas. Just because this was my experience, does not mean that yours will be the same. But if you or a loved one have experienced birth trauma, my heart goes out to you.
leading up to labor
A lot of you know that throughout my entire pregnancy, my plan was to try to give birth naturally, without medical interventions. However, my due date was days away on 9/2 and I still hadn’t progressed from 1cm dilated/50% effaced since 36 weeks. And trust me when I tell you: I was trying EVERYTHING to induce labor naturally. Like walking, drinking red raspberry leaf tea, eating dates, bouncing on an exercise ball daily, pumping… EVERYTHING.
8/26 (39w) 1cm dilated: On Friday, I had my weekly prenatal check up. But over the weekend I had a few random spells of feeling really light headed, nauseas and fatigued. At my appointment that morning, I started to feel that way again. They checked my blood pressure and it was really high. So they sent me straight to the hospital and told me to be prepared to be induced if my BP didn’t stabilize. As scared and unprepared as I was, my BP stabilized after a few hours of monitoring me + baby and we got sent home.
8/31 (39w5d) 1cm dilated, 50% effaced: I had a membrane sweep to try to get things progressing a little more. I had my bloody show that night and I was in false labor for a little while after. Discouraged, I called my doctor and we talked about plans for an induction. She explained the ARRIVE trial and the benefits of being induced at 39-40 weeks for first time moms and that they’d want to induce me at 41 weeks anyway.
This wasn’t a decision I took lightly. As reluctant as I was to be induced, we went ahead and set an induction date for midnight on 9/3. However, due to short staffing, my induction got cancelled 3 times over the weekend and we were essentially “on standby” until a bed and nurse were available. This was a little frustrating because I was just so anxious and ready to meet our baby. But of course, I didn’t want to take someone’s place who was already in labor, so I understood and kept waiting as patiently as I could.
9/5 (40w3d) 1cm dilated, 70% effaced: We were finally called in at 7am on Labor Day and thought it was the perfect day to have baby! We got in the car, grabbed breakfast, and got to the hospital around 8am.
I handed my nurse my printed out Birth Plan that went over my plans to exclusively breastfeed, my husband to cut the cord, and to do immediate skin-to-skin, etc. I truly felt so at peace with everything and I was just so happy that we were just hours away from welcoming our little girl into the world!
induction on 9/5
10am: They started inducing me. After talking about my induction options with my OB, we decided to try the Foley Balloon/Bulb to get me to around 4-5 cm dilated without medicine and then start a very low and gradual amount of Pitocin to keep things progressing. Unfortunately my OB wasn’t available to be there, but it was her best friend who was the OB on call and who would be delivering Poppy. She was so cool and my OB spoke so highly of her, I felt good about it and comfortable with her immediately. Also my L&D nurse was so sweet and kind. Everything was great at this point.
4:30pm (4.5cm dilated): The foley balloon was extremely uncomfortable. The nurse would come in about every hour to inflate the balloon and pull on it (I think?). My contractions were SO strong, but the balloon got me to about 4.5cm before it finally fell out. I felt almost instant relief when it was out. My OB told me she had the foley balloon for her first labor and the pain was so intense she ripped it out herself… She told me that after mine already fell out LOL. When the balloon was out, my nurse started gradually increasing Pitocin.
6pm (5.5cm dilated): I finally asked for the epidural. The pain was so intense and I couldn’t relax. I wanted a natural birth, but at this point I felt good about making it this far and just wanted to enjoy the rest of my labor and relax to let my body do what it needed to do. It took about an hour for the anesthesiologist to finally get there, which felt like forever. My nurse called the anesthesiologist so many times to hurry up because she could tell I was in a lot of pain.
Getting the epidural was sooo hard because my contractions were EXTREMELY intense and getting close together, and had to remain so still while he was administering it.
6:30ish? (5.5cm dilated): After the epidural kicked in, I was able to relax. I got the shakes really bad though. After a bit, my doctor came in to check me again and break my water. She said my labor progression was looking “beautiful” and I was almost in active labor (6cm dilated). I felt great, relaxed, and I was so happy that I’d be able to start pushing soon and meet our daughter.
nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
Our nurse came in because she noticed some decels in baby’s heart rate and wanted to get me into a different position. She stopped the Pitocin and moved me onto my side but her heart rate was still dipping. She asked if I’d be open to getting on my hands and knees to see if gravity would help. She called another nurse in to help get me into that position. But even though I couldn’t really feel my lower body because of the epidural, I felt a rush of adrenaline and fear for my baby’s life so I just flipped over onto my hands and knees without help.
I was scared, but tried to remain calm because once I was on my hands and knees, her heart rate was coming back up. Poppy’s heart rate quickly stabilized, but I still stayed in that position for around 45min until our nurse came in to put me back on my back. I was finally able to relax. We were going to turn the lights down and both try to get some rest.
20 minutes later, our nurse rushed back in to put me back on to my hands and knees again. This time I needed help. When they helped me flip over, I caught a glimpse at the monitor and I saw my blood pressure was at, like, 74/50 or something dangerously low and baby’s heart rate was decelerating again.
At this point I started crying and hyperventilating because I knew something was wrong.
My fear was confirmed when about 4 other nurses and our doctor rushed in. Everyone was touching me, connecting me to more monitors, trying to get a better read on baby’s heart rate. Justin was pushed into the corner of the room. Voices were a blur. Faces were a blur. I just remember my nurse stroking my hair, telling me to breathe and her trying to find space for my husband to be next to me. He was there for just a second until he was quickly pushed out of the way when our doctor announced that we needed to get to the OR immediately and have a c-section RIGHT NOW.
When they flipped me over back onto my back, I looked down and saw the hospital bed was covered in blood. I didn’t ask questions. I knew something was wrong. Justin yelled out “I love you” as they quickly wheeled me out of the room and into an OR.
when Poppy was born
Helpless and terrified, I was suddenly in an operating room being lifted onto the operating table. Hovering over me was the anesthesiologist who gave me my epidural trying to put a mask over my mouth, telling me to take deep breaths because they needed to put me completely to sleep. Nurses were surrounding me, tugging on my arms, strapping them down. The doctor was opening my gown to sterilize my belly.
With every second that passed I felt everything start to slip away. My baby… my birth plan… All I kept thinking was, “This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening. What’s even happening? Wait, where is my husband? Can someone hold my hand? Why are they putting me to sleep? I thought you could be awake for c-sections?”
Then everything went black as the anesthesiologist quickly sedated me.
Today, the white bright lights of the operating room and the flurry of doctors and nurses hands tugging on my body still haunt me. For over a month afterwards, I couldn’t sleep without holding my husband’s hand or being in a complete bear-hug because all I could remember is reaching out for someone to comfort me and no one being there to hold my hand. I just remember being tugged on in every direction… Prepping to put me under and cut me open in order to save my daughter’s life.
14 minutes later
8:49pm: This was the day we were supposed to have a beautiful, blissful moment of becoming a family. I was going to push my baby girl out of my body, the body that grew her, the body that kept her safe, pull her up to my chest and hold her tight as my husband held us both.
Instead, they brought our newborn daughter to Justin 14 minutes after they pulled her out of me, while I was still unconscious in an OR on the other side of the hospital.
He sat in a room for hours and hours, alone, holding our newborn baby, waiting for an update on his wife.
Justin didn’t get to cut the cord or see her be born. I didn’t get to nurse my baby for the first time after she was born, instead, she was given formula because I was unable to feed her for the first time like I had planned. Like I had imagined I would.
Instead, I got to meet our daughter for the first time 3 hours after she was born. Through the haze of the drugs pumped through me during surgery.
Birth trauma took the moment I’ve been dreaming of for the last 9+ months (and years before becoming pregnant) away from us. While we are beyond thankful for a healthy, beautiful baby… this day left us both a little shocked and shattered.
Almost midnight: 3+ hours later, when I began to open my groggy eyes, I was in a recovery room. I remember thinking about how my throat burned and how thirsty I was (which I learned was from the tube they put down my throat during surgery). But I finally realized what happened and caught a glimpse of my husband through the blurriness of my tears that were already beginning to fall. I completely lost it. Between my heavy sobs and trying to catch my breath, he asked… “Do you want to meet our daughter?”
This moment is how I became a mother. It wasn’t in the slightest the birth I had envisioned. I didn’t get to see her be born or hear her first cry. I didn’t get to see my husband’s face as he held our daughter for the first time.
But fighting through the drowsiness and disorientation of waking up from anesthesia, he placed Poppy into my weak arms. I pulled her close and I just sobbed.
She was finally here. Safe. Healthy. I felt SO much relief that she was okay, but so much guilt and pure sadness at the same time. It was a flood of emotions. I felt like my body had failed us both.
what happened
I had suffered a placental abruption – a rare and life-threatening occurrence when the placenta tears away from the uterine wall before the baby is born. The placenta is what delivers oxygen and essential nutrients to your baby, so when this supply is compromised, the outcome can be catastrophic, for both mom and baby.
I’m beyond grateful for how quickly our nurses and doctors were able to detect this and get Poppy out safely. But because of how urgent my c-section was, a portion of my bladder was cut in the process of my incision. So I also had a cystoscopy (bladder scope) during surgery to look at/repair the damage. This is partly why a 45min c-section ultimately took 3 hours.
It was so urgent, I went to surgery with all of my jewelry on and even my apple watch.
recovery
The following days in the hospital were a blur. I lost over 1100 units of blood, so I felt so weak on top of just completely out of it. Poppy’s blood count was low too because of what happened.
We couldn’t open the blinds to the one window in our room and we barely turned the lights on. We had no comprehension of time, day or night. We didn’t have visitors really – we originally planned for this to be a private, intimate time as a new family of three, and have visitors once we were settled at home. Looking back, I really wished I had my mom with me and Justin through all of that.
But instead, it was just a really dark time and we had no idea how to process what happened. Both of us were just so overwhelmed and it all felt like an outer-body experience. We barely ate, we barely slept. Justin was recovering from a sinus infection, I still had a catheter because of the bladder complications during surgery. They never asked me to walk or try to stand. I couldn’t even get up to help change Poppy’s diapers. Nursing wasn’t going that well and the on-call lactation consultant wasn’t available. I was just so discouraged all around. And I was so, so, so tired.
Three different doctors from my OB practice came to visit us to check in and go over what happened, check my incision, suggesting therapy, antidepressants, etc. Our actual OB, who took care of me my whole pregnancy, came in once to check on me and I immediately started crying. She was so sympathetic and kind, and equally confused on how it all went wrong so fast after having such a healthy pregnancy.
From there, it was just a blur of IVs, vital checks, trying to nurse. tears, snuggling Poppy, finally getting my catheter out, standing for the first time, and more tears… from all three of us.
Early one morning, a nurse came in to give me another dose of pain medication and my IV blew. And that’s when I was ready to go home. I just wanted to be as far away from the hospital as possible, but I was also so afraid to leave at the same time.
9/7: We asked to be discharged. The staff was stretched thin and needed the beds, and we wanted to be home. Our last postpartum nurse asked Justin to go pull the car around and we would meet him down there. When we were ready to go and after a nurse helped me get Poppy in the Doona, a transporter asked if I would be able to walk down so she could take Poppy’s stroller. Honestly, I started to panic.
My nurse said ABSOLUTELY NOT and explained I haven’t walked in like three days and wouldn’t be able to walk that far. I held back sobs. Everything was so far from how I’d pictured it. I thought I’d get to see Justin walk out of the hospital with our baby in tow. You know – The proud, hot-dad-walk. Nope. I was wheeled out in wheelchair, just Poppy and I, with two nurses I didn’t know. And that was that.
I cried the entire way home after we hit a speed bump and the pain of it all, physical and mental, set in.
Our birth story didn’t pan out as I hoped or dreamt it would. But, we left the hospital with a healthy, beautiful baby girl. And that’s what mattered most of all to us because most women who have a placental abruption are not as lucky.
today
Today I hold my healthy, happy, chunky little (almost) 3 month old and our birth story doesn’t sting as much anymore. I still get sad when I think about what happened or when I catch a glimpse of my new scar, but I’m more grateful than anything. I’m grateful for our precious, strong, angel baby girl. I’m grateful for the amazing team of nurses and doctors that helped us. I’m grateful for a supportive, understanding, and loving husband and family. For an OB who validates my birth trauma and who has given me my medical records to try to help me understand and fill in the gaps of what happened.
Of course, my mind continues to flood with endless “what if’s?”
Would this have happened if I had gotten induced earlier or maybe didn’t get induced at all? Or what if I hadn’t gotten induced at all and waited to labor at home? What if my placenta abrupted while I was at home and not just steps away from an operating room or in the hands of doctors and nurses who were ready to save mine and my baby’s life? Will I ever get the birth that I imagined I’d have? I don’t have answers to these questions and maybe I never will.
But each day is better than the one before. We’re healing, working through our birth trauma, and overall feeling stronger than ever as a new family of three. Poppy’s smile lights up our whole house and suddenly, everything was worth it.
OUR BIRTH STORY
Thank you so much for reading our birth story. Today, I hold my 3 month old baby in my arms safe at home. I know that many women and mother’s do not have this same privilege – whether it be from loss, infertility, or anything else. And for that, my heart aches. If you are in that position, please know that I see you, I hear you, I am here to talk if you ever need.
I hope in sharing this story, I can make someone feel less alone. I know that when this happened for me, I wanted to talk to someone who understood what it was like to go through it. There’s a little bit of peace in finding community that way.
Because of this beautiful community we have here, I was able to connect with mother’s who had experienced birth trauma. And I received some really great advice that got me through those dark days.
It does get better. Time will heal the hurt. You will turn a corner and there will be a time where the pain of it all stings a little less and less. The new world of motherhood and the joy your baby brings will burn brighter than the darkness of that day.
Love, M
About Madison
I'm Madison - a northern gal planting roots down south. Musings by Madison is your guide to classic style, beauty, home decor & more. Rooted in passion for encouraging others to curate a closet, home, and life they’re proud of and inspired by each day.
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