Uterine rupture is a risk, though very small, of any VBAC attempt. However, uterine rupture isn’t random. It doesn’t just happen. Like all things, it is under the control of God. If He is sovereign and has the whole world in His hands, then He had my uterus in His hands too. And who am I to second guess His plan for this little muscle of mine?
From early on in the birth, I felt like something was going to be wrong. In my heart, I thought that the baby would be born with Down syndrome, so I gently prepared myself for a lifetime of caring for a handicapped child. Down syndrome would have been a hundred times easier to accept, as it would be something clearly out of my control. But I knew the risks associated with uterine rupture: fetal death, oxygen deprivation, cerebral palsy. I chose VBA3C anyway.
Since Amy’s VBA3C in 2008 was so amazing, the pessimist in me figured this birth would be more difficult. The entire last trimester was filled with fear. I knew that I hadn’t prepared spiritually and physically like I had with her. Birth is a process that requires preparation, and I was scared that I hadn’t done enough.
Through a series of divinely-appointed events, we were in Atlanta when I went into labor, and at the hospital when the rupture happened. Had we been anywhere but the hospital when I ruptured, we would have had to bury our baby. God is merciful.
Deric and I drove up to Atlanta on Thursday, Dec. 16 for a routine 40 week appointment with Dr.Tate. Dr.T was sick that day, so the appointment was with his nurse practitioner, Tia. My blood pressure was up, and there had been protein in my urine as well. Together, those can be indicators of preeclampsia so Tia wanted to do a non-stress-test (NST) to check on the baby.
We got strapped to the NST, but the baby wasn’t moving much. Tia came in and tried to buzz him to get better readings, but she wasn’t able to keep him on the monitors long enough. We all thought that Benjamin was probably fine, but because he didn’t technically pass the NST, Tia wanted to send us for a biophysical profile (BPP) at Emory.
We could have said, “No.” to the BPP and gone home. The logical, anti-testing part of me thought we should go home. But I wanted to see the baby, so we stayed in Atlanta and consented to the BPP. God is merciful.
The earliest appointment available was for later that afternoon. We decided to enjoy our time together, figuring it would be our last date for a while. I wanted to go to Scalini’s to have the famous labor-inducing eggplant parmesan, but they only open for dinner. So, we went to IKEA and shopped and ate and had a great time. Finally, we headed over to Emory at 1pm for the BPP.
Benjamin passed the BPP, but the doctor was worried about the size of the baby. He measured 12 ½ lbs. I didn’t let this scare me, and I sort of rolled my eyes, because I knew that ultrasound is not an accurate measure of the baby’s size late in pregnancy. The doc wanted to check my blood pressure before I left, and it ended up being high again. Of course its high, I thought, I hate hospitals, and I was just lying flat on my back with strangers poking and prodding me. She called Dr.Tate and he wanted me to go down to Labor & Delivery to have my blood pressure monitored for a while.
Around 3pm we got to triage for another NST. I didn’t bother changing into the hospital gown. While they were monitoring my blood pressure, I was having light contractions, but nothing consistent. After about two hours, they released me since my blood pressure was stable and normal.
We thought about hitting Scalini’s before heading home, but I was tired of being in Atlanta. On our way back to Columbus, I started getting the ‘shakes’. My body was uncontrollably quivering and shivering, yet I wasn’t cold. This also occurred in Amy’s labor, so I began feeling like it might be time. I wasn’t having consistent or strong contractions, and that made it hard to tell if this was labor. We stopped a few times to decide whether we should go home or head back to Atlanta. It probably took about 45 minutes for us to decide what to do. It was so hard to decide, since the contractions were not getting longer, stronger, and closer together.
We made the decision to go the hospital and called our parents to let them know. My parents were watching the kids and Deric’s parents were going to head to the hospital to be with us. We got to the hospital and I knew that my labor wasn’t normal or steady, but I also felt very strongly that I was really in labor. We got to triage for the second time that day and the receptionist said “Back already?” I took a quick shower, because I felt so nasty after the long day. When the nurse checked my cervix it was 3.5-4 cms. I had been sitting at 3cm dilated for the last month of pregnancy, so it wasn’t a huge change.
I knew that the contractions were really light and not consistent, and I had a feeling that they’d want to send me home. I told Deric that I wasn’t leaving because I KNEW I was in labor. But, when the nurse came to tell me that I was being discharged, I didn’t say anything. This is the only thing that could have possibly changed the outcome of my labor. Had I been admitted, I might have gotten an iv port in. The absence of an iv port is what really complicated Benjamin’s birth.
We were discharged at 10:13pm. We sent Deric’s parents home, but decided to stay in a hotel for the night instead of driving home. My contractions got worse in the car on the way to the hotel. I got frustrated with Deric because he was getting lost in downtown Atlanta and I really didn’t like having contractions in the car. By the time we got to the hotel and checked in, contractons were coming on strongly and I couldn’t get comfortable. At that point I was ready to go back to the hospital, but Deric said we needed to stay put for an hour to see how things go. I couldn’t seem to stay on top of the contractions, and they started coming every 5 minutes.
I decided to use the shower, which felt really good. I was too big to fit in the tub, but I could get on my hands and knees and let the water hit my back. We settled into a routine for about half an hour. During a contraction, I would rise up a bit and rock and moan. When it was over, I would get back down on my hands and knees and enjoy the water, trying to prepare for the next contraction. I felt a bit restless in the shower, so I tried sitting on the toilet. At that point, my water broke and was tainted with heavy meconium. There was so much amniotic fluid, and it just kept gushing out with each step. I became very anxious and rushed us to get out of the hotel.
My clothes were soaking wet, so we stole a towel to put between my legs on the way to the hospital. Walking down to the parking garage was not fun. I had a contraction in front of the valet and two women who are waiting for their car. I didn’t like being watched.
The drive to the hospital was horrendous. With every bump in the road, my uterus complained. I couldn’t get control of my thoughts. I kept thinking, “I hate this! This is ridiculous! I am NOT doing this again!” I regret those thoughts immensely. I didn’t realize that they would be true.
Once we got there, Deric said he was going to drop me at the front and let me walk in by myself. I told him “No you will NOT!” He didn’t realize that I was in transition, and thought we had more time. We ended up driving to the emergency entrance, but there was no parking. I knew I couldn’t walk more than a few feet, so Deric parked illegally near the doors. He ran in and got a wheelchair for me. On the way in we saw a police officer and Deric told him that he was parked illegally and wouldn’t be able to move the truck until I had the baby. The cop looked at me – sweating, moaning and whispering, “Help me.” - and said “Okay man. Just get it when you can.”
It seemed like it took forever to get to triage and then to get into a room. I moaned, “Help me” the entire way. As soon as we got to our room, I changed into the gown and got in bed. I tried to recreate my labor with Amy by lying on my side and concentrating on relaxing, but I wasn’t able to. I couldn’t get calm this time, this labor was definitely different and harder. The on-call doc, who looked like she just graduated high school, came in and checked me and said I was almost 10 centimeters dilated. The room got really busy with nurses and everyone assured me that Dr.Tate lived close by and would be here soon.
I had never experienced the famous “urge to push” before. I had an epidural with JD, so I didn’t really experience anything. Amy was posterior, so I pushed without ever feeling the need to do so. The next contraction, I wanted to push more than anything. I started saying, “Push. Push.” so that everyone would know that I needed to push. The teenage doctor and the nurses were all calmly telling me to stop pushing and to start panting. I remember thinking, “Girl, you have never had a baby in your life. You need to stop telling me what to do!” But I didn’t say it.
The contractions slowed down, and I had a few minutes of rest between then. I made a mental note of it, because I had read about this before and thought it was cool. But when a contraction did come, my whole body was pushing without me. I tried to stop, but I couldn’t. There was some talk among the nurses that I needed an iv port placed, but once they looked at my veins, they realized they wouldn’t be able to get a good stick, so they called the anesthesiologist. No one was too worried about it, since I was already starting to push. We all assumed that I’d have the baby out before the anesthesiologist even got there.
We were wrong.
This is part 1 of Benjamin's birth story. Part 2 can be read here.
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