Every mother has birth stories. You hear horror stories of labours that went on for days, of doctors or midwives bracing themselves on the end of the bed with their feet while they used forceps to rip the baby out of the birth canal, of blood and guts and all kinds of horrors. Some of these you can take with a big grain of salt, there is something about the human psyche that wants to horrify and out-do everyone else. So having said that here is my first birth story. No I have not embellished it, I don't think it needs it.
Like every first time expecting mother I was fairly apprehensive about the actual birth of my son. Yes we knew beforehand that he was a boy. I had watched documentaries, looked at articles and pictures so I knew exactly what was supposed to happen. About two weeks before our son was due I remember bursting into tears and telling my husband that there were only two ways for our baby to come out and I didn't like either of them.
But despite all that I had it all planned out. My birthing bag was packed, my birth plan written. I knew what was going to happen and I was prepared. HA! the joy of hindsight lets me look back and laugh at myself now.
My last Obstetricians appointment before the due date I mentioned something that had been worrying me. The babies movements had slowed down. All the women-who-know-all in my life had told me that this was normal and the baby was running out of room. But still it bothered me so I asked the doctor, I will be forever grateful that I did. ALWAYS ask, no matter how silly you think the question is because you never know that gut feeling could be right. She was surprised and told me no, there was room for twins in there and the baby should not have slowed down at all. If anything he should be getting more and more active. She pulled out her ultrasound and took a look. There was not enough fluid around the baby and the placenta was showing signs of aging. She sent me straight to the hospital. She threatened to call an ambulance when I said I wanted to drive myself rather than have my husband drive me and leave my car there. Her words to me "you will be going home with a baby!"
So with great apprehension we headed to the hospital. She met us there and they monitored the baby for a while. He was not showing any signs of distress so she said I could go home and pack some things, have some dinner and come back. I spent the night in an uncomfortable hospital bed unable to sleep because I was expecting to be induced the next day. The next morning I was monitored again and then the hospital sent me home. I was very confused, was my baby ok or not? I was told that I had to go back in every day to be monitored and I was booked in for an induction on the Sunday night (this was the Friday morning). So I went home and started cleaning the house, I would be having a baby in a few days. On Saturday I went back in and was monitored, no problems. Back home, more waiting. On Saturday night my husband and I went out to dinner at our favourite restaurant. It was quiet a civilized way to organize a birth really. On Sunday morning my father and his family all came over to have breakfast with me before I headed to the hospital for an induction that was likely to take several days.
At the hospital I was shown to my room and put on a monitor. Everything was fine. Then the midwife was called away before she could take me off the monitor. A few minutes after she left, the baby's heartbeat suddenly dropped. Normally it would be around 120 to 140 bpm, it dropped below 60. My husband ran to get someone. The midwife and the doctor came and told me I would not be getting the slow induction with gel, 12 hours later an amniotomy and then a drip if nothing happened 12 hours after that, I was going around to the labour suite and I was having this baby now! My head was spinning it was suddenly all happening. In the labour suite I got changed into an old nightie. The doctor broke my waters and a drip was put in my hand. 15 minutes after getting changed I was having contractions every 3 minutes. 15 minutes after that I was having double peak contractions every 2 minutes. It was happening so fast and my body wasn't ready for it. My cervix had not gone through any of the preparation that normally happens with these things. And I was in pain. I asked for the gas. It helped a little bit. But it was not long before I was screaming. And even while I was screaming the midwife would come in and increase the drip to increase my contractions. I tried to get out of the bed at one stage and hit her. How I hated that woman. I was not able to get up and move because they wanted to monitor the baby and the monitor only picked up his heartbeat if I was laying on my left hand side. I couldn't stand it any longer and I started telling everyone I was going home and tried to rip the drip out. My mother and husband were both there restraining me. I didn't know it at the time but my husband was very distressed because there was nothing he could do for me. My mother comforted him because I was beyond even noticing they were there. Finally I demanded an epidural. The midwife put it off.... and put it off and continued to put it off. She offered me Pethidine which I had put down in my birth plan as NOT wanting under any circumstances. But I was vulnerable, tired, in agony, I took whatever was offered. I wish I hadn't, I wish my mother or husband had stopped her but I guess they were desperate too. It did NOTHING! It didn't help at all. She told my mum that I seemed calmer. My mum didn't say anything at the time but she told me later she came close to swearing at the woman. Finally my husband put his foot down and demanded an epidural for me. The midwife finally ordered one. She had left it so long that there was only a registrar in the hospital but I didn't care.
I had to hold still while the epidural was inserted. My husband helped me and while he was holding my arms for me he asked the dumbest question ever, which I have still not let him live down, "What's wrong?". I only swore twice through the whole thing and that was one of them. My response "I'm having your f#$king baby!" Very funny in hindsight. Anyway I don't know how many contractions it took but it was a major strength of will that helped me hold still. 15 minutes after the epidural went in I was a different person. I was sitting up in bed and telling jokes. I watched some TV and tried to get some sleep. Everything that came before that has always been a red haze in my memory. I endured 4 hours of that agony before the epidural brought relief.
I did have a small "window" of pain. The medication from an epidural runs downhill like water and because I was laying on my left side so they could monitor the baby I had a patch of pain on the right side of my belly. So I would be allowed to turn onto my right side for a while until the pain relief took away that patch of pain and then I would have turn back to my left side so that they could monitor the baby. I thought it was hilarious, maybe some of the gas was still effecting me. I was numb from the chest down so every time I rolled over I had to get help. My legs would wander off the bed as every one was helping me turn my huge body over and I would have to ask someone to retrieve them for me. I felt like a roast in an oven being turned to cook evenly.
The epidural also marked the changing of the nurses shift and I got a new midwife, this one was lovely. And totally sympathetic. About 20 minutes after the epidural she came in and asked "would you like a catheter?" Which, of course, I thought was hilarious. Of course I didn't, what a dumb question. And then she told me why I should have one, being numb I couldn't open my bladder if I needed to and if it was too full the baby pushing on it could pop it like a water balloon. Ok of course I wanted one in that case :-)
Then around midnight my husband asked the midwife to check how dilated I was, it was almost 8 hours since the drip went in. She said it would still be a while but took a look anyway. To her surprise I was fully dilated. She called the doctor to come back in. At around 12.30 am I was told to start pushing. Now if you have seen a "birth" on TV or at the movies you "know" that from this point it is only minutes until the baby pops out right? Wrong, anyone who has actually been at a birth knows that at this point it can take hours of pushing for the baby to make it the few inches down the birth canal. As soon as I started pushing though the baby started showing real signs of distress again. His heatbeat dropped with every contraction and every push and took a long long time to start to come back up again. He was in trouble. It was too late for a Cesarean. The doctor told me if I didn't push harder she would get out the forceps. I didn't want those malformed salad servers coming anywhere near me so I told her I could do it. And I did! I pushed until I went purple, I pushed until I had an involuntary bowel movement, I pushed until I thought I was going to pop. The second stage of labour that normally takes hours especially for a first baby took 20 minutes. And my son was born. They put him on my tummy, the umbilical cord was very short. He was slimy covered in gunk, purple and the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I feel in love with him instantly. I told my husband that I was so happy he was his father.
The baby was underweight. I didn't know it at the time but if he had only been 20 grams lighter he would have been sent off to the special care nursery. He looked a lot like a little old man with a very wrinkled face. And he would turn his eyes to "look" at us when my husband and I talked, he obviously recognized our voices. He didn't cry at all, until the midwife gave him his Vitamin K shot anyway. He spent most of the first day sleeping and while I should have been resting we had visitors, lots and lots of visitors. Then he woke up once they all left and the trouble started. I have already posted about that in my post on breastfeeding.
I wish the hospital hadn't sent me home the first time, he might have been stronger. I wish the midwife hadn't given me the pethidine, I am sure that is why he slept so long that first day. And I wish we had told all the visitors to bugger off and leave us alone. But even with all that, the moment that my son was born remains the happiest of my life and one I will never forget.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Breast feeding part 2
So I have told you the story of my struggle to breastfeed my first child. What happened with my second child? Was it easy because I knew what I was doing? Nope!
Again I was determined to breastfeed. I kept saying that I was happy to go either way depending on the child but in my mind I was still determined to breastfeed this child. My second child was a girl. Her birth was pretty normal and she was a healthy birth weight. She had no problems attaching and feeding. All was looking good. But I was in pain, lots and lots of pain. I didn't find out what it was until later, Raynaud's syndrome. This is where spasms in the vascular system cause a lack of circulation. It most often occurs in the elderly in their extremities but it can also happen to breastfeeding mothers in their nipples. And it is very painful. You know how it feels to lick something very cold and get stuck to it, now imagine doing this with a damp nipple instead. Yep very painful. It got to the point where I just could not stand it. In the middle of the night one night while I was still in hospital, I asked the midwives to give her a bottle. I couldn't do it. I was exhausted and sleep deprived. They made me read and sign a consent form that stated I knew that breastfeeding was the best for my baby but was choosing to give her a bottle anyway. I was too tired at the time to be upset about this but later I was outraged. They had seen me all but screaming with pain as I fed my baby they knew it wasn't a decision that I was taking lightly. Instead of offering me support and sympathy they made it even harder. None of them even looked to see if there was a problem they had just decided I was not coping with the usual pain you get when you first started breastfeeding.
However after that I continued to breastfeed my baby and a few days after I got home the midwife that did the home visit to check on me and the baby told me what was causing the pain in my nipples, she diagnosed it with a couple of simple questions, and the oh so simple cure for it. I had to take magnesium supplements. With in days it stopped and I could feed the baby in comfort. Unfortunately by then she had started to display the same symptoms as her brother had almost three years earlier. The constantly wanting to feed, the screaming and drawing up of the legs, the inability to sleep. When she was six days old, Boxing day, I was down at A and E with her because she was vomiting up blood. I got very annoyed when every nurse and doctor that spoke to me, would ask, before anything else, "is she your first child?". When I told them no they seemed to start taking me seriously. As if for some reason having some experience at being a mother somehow made her vomiting blood more serious. They all also asked if the blood was from me, from cracked nipples, to the point where I pulled out one of my boobs to a nurse to show her I didn't have cracked nipples at all. After many hours and many tests they finally decided that she had overfed, probably due to reflux and had caused a split somewhere in her esophagus. They sent us home and I later took her to the pediatrician. He put her on medication for reflux which seemed to help a bit.
By this stage our son had been referred to a pediatric gastroenterologist (sp?). We had to travel three hours to another city to see him. He diagnosed him with a "gastrointestinal motility disorder", uncoordinated movement of the muscles in the digestive system. Later after talking to other members of my family I found it was a common problem amongst my relatives. As an infant on liquid feeds this uncoordinated movement causes the milk to rush straight through the bowel. Eventually causing a type of acquired lactose intolerance. Later when solid feeds are started it causes constipation which is hard to diagnose because there is also overflow diarrhea where the body pushes liquid fecal matter past the blockage, very graphic I know, sorry. All this results in "colic", which I once heard a very wise man say "is a five letter word for we have no idea what the problem is!" Reflux, gas pain, hunger, cramps, the works. The poor kids, no wonder they screamed.
At six weeks we took my daughter down to the A and E at the big hospital in our city. She was screaming at the top of her lungs and did so for hours while we waited. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do but we needed help and no one seemed to be paying any attention. She was admitted and she and I were there for almost a week. They took her off breast milk and put her on formula. I expressed constantly to try and keep my supply up. I went home with a tonne of frozen breast milk. She settled down almost immediately on the formula. When she was discharged we had no answers and no offer of follow up. I felt very let down.
I asked my GP for a referral to QEII in the hope that they might be able to help us. But no such luck. It was a difficult stay because I had my son (then a very active almost 3 yo) with me too and my husband had to work. So I was caring for two children in a strange environment and this time the midwives and nurses where much less helpful and sympathetic. At one stage we even had to spend the day cramped up in our little room because Family Services had come to take a couple of unfortunate kids away from their mother. On the day of discharge one nurse talked to me and realized that I was suffering from severe postnatal depression but was unable to do anything to help me, it was too late. The stay had really been a total waste of time and nothing but a stress. Back home things continued as they had. Hours on end of colic and my feeling like a failure again.
The Pediatric Gastro finally saw my daughter at 3 months, after I got a referral from my wonderful GP, and diagnosed her the same as our son. Why did the top up feeds settle her? They were lactose free, they were thicker and heavier so went through the gut slower. We started adding thickner to her feeds and giving her a bottle every second feed. That made a huge difference. It wasn't long before things settled down. Being a Librarian through both of the ordeals of my children's feeding problems I had researched and read everything I could find. So I realised that my children could never be fully breast fed and it wasn't my fault. I still felt like a failure but at least I had more realistic expectations. My daughter ended up being partially breastfed until she was 15 months of age. Then I came down with pneumonia again. After a weekend in hospital she refused to take the breast and I decided that I it was time to wean her.
Now with my third child I have been researching bottles rather than ways to breastfeed. I know I am going to cop it from the breastfeeding nazis at the hospital and after. I will breast feed this child for the first few days possibly weeks but at the first sign of ANY problems I am going to put the baby straight onto the bottle. I have two older children that need their mum and I can't let myself get caught up in the sleep depriving, self doubting cycle that I did with the other two. My expectations are far more realistic this time. If I can breastfeed fantastic but if it doesn't work I am not going to make myself sick over it. It will be sad but I am not going to watch this baby scream in pain because of some ideal. And if the breastfeeding nazis have anything to say they can stick it, honestly they haven't been through what I have so they have no right to an opinion in my world!
Again I was determined to breastfeed. I kept saying that I was happy to go either way depending on the child but in my mind I was still determined to breastfeed this child. My second child was a girl. Her birth was pretty normal and she was a healthy birth weight. She had no problems attaching and feeding. All was looking good. But I was in pain, lots and lots of pain. I didn't find out what it was until later, Raynaud's syndrome. This is where spasms in the vascular system cause a lack of circulation. It most often occurs in the elderly in their extremities but it can also happen to breastfeeding mothers in their nipples. And it is very painful. You know how it feels to lick something very cold and get stuck to it, now imagine doing this with a damp nipple instead. Yep very painful. It got to the point where I just could not stand it. In the middle of the night one night while I was still in hospital, I asked the midwives to give her a bottle. I couldn't do it. I was exhausted and sleep deprived. They made me read and sign a consent form that stated I knew that breastfeeding was the best for my baby but was choosing to give her a bottle anyway. I was too tired at the time to be upset about this but later I was outraged. They had seen me all but screaming with pain as I fed my baby they knew it wasn't a decision that I was taking lightly. Instead of offering me support and sympathy they made it even harder. None of them even looked to see if there was a problem they had just decided I was not coping with the usual pain you get when you first started breastfeeding.
However after that I continued to breastfeed my baby and a few days after I got home the midwife that did the home visit to check on me and the baby told me what was causing the pain in my nipples, she diagnosed it with a couple of simple questions, and the oh so simple cure for it. I had to take magnesium supplements. With in days it stopped and I could feed the baby in comfort. Unfortunately by then she had started to display the same symptoms as her brother had almost three years earlier. The constantly wanting to feed, the screaming and drawing up of the legs, the inability to sleep. When she was six days old, Boxing day, I was down at A and E with her because she was vomiting up blood. I got very annoyed when every nurse and doctor that spoke to me, would ask, before anything else, "is she your first child?". When I told them no they seemed to start taking me seriously. As if for some reason having some experience at being a mother somehow made her vomiting blood more serious. They all also asked if the blood was from me, from cracked nipples, to the point where I pulled out one of my boobs to a nurse to show her I didn't have cracked nipples at all. After many hours and many tests they finally decided that she had overfed, probably due to reflux and had caused a split somewhere in her esophagus. They sent us home and I later took her to the pediatrician. He put her on medication for reflux which seemed to help a bit.
By this stage our son had been referred to a pediatric gastroenterologist (sp?). We had to travel three hours to another city to see him. He diagnosed him with a "gastrointestinal motility disorder", uncoordinated movement of the muscles in the digestive system. Later after talking to other members of my family I found it was a common problem amongst my relatives. As an infant on liquid feeds this uncoordinated movement causes the milk to rush straight through the bowel. Eventually causing a type of acquired lactose intolerance. Later when solid feeds are started it causes constipation which is hard to diagnose because there is also overflow diarrhea where the body pushes liquid fecal matter past the blockage, very graphic I know, sorry. All this results in "colic", which I once heard a very wise man say "is a five letter word for we have no idea what the problem is!" Reflux, gas pain, hunger, cramps, the works. The poor kids, no wonder they screamed.
At six weeks we took my daughter down to the A and E at the big hospital in our city. She was screaming at the top of her lungs and did so for hours while we waited. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do but we needed help and no one seemed to be paying any attention. She was admitted and she and I were there for almost a week. They took her off breast milk and put her on formula. I expressed constantly to try and keep my supply up. I went home with a tonne of frozen breast milk. She settled down almost immediately on the formula. When she was discharged we had no answers and no offer of follow up. I felt very let down.
I asked my GP for a referral to QEII in the hope that they might be able to help us. But no such luck. It was a difficult stay because I had my son (then a very active almost 3 yo) with me too and my husband had to work. So I was caring for two children in a strange environment and this time the midwives and nurses where much less helpful and sympathetic. At one stage we even had to spend the day cramped up in our little room because Family Services had come to take a couple of unfortunate kids away from their mother. On the day of discharge one nurse talked to me and realized that I was suffering from severe postnatal depression but was unable to do anything to help me, it was too late. The stay had really been a total waste of time and nothing but a stress. Back home things continued as they had. Hours on end of colic and my feeling like a failure again.
The Pediatric Gastro finally saw my daughter at 3 months, after I got a referral from my wonderful GP, and diagnosed her the same as our son. Why did the top up feeds settle her? They were lactose free, they were thicker and heavier so went through the gut slower. We started adding thickner to her feeds and giving her a bottle every second feed. That made a huge difference. It wasn't long before things settled down. Being a Librarian through both of the ordeals of my children's feeding problems I had researched and read everything I could find. So I realised that my children could never be fully breast fed and it wasn't my fault. I still felt like a failure but at least I had more realistic expectations. My daughter ended up being partially breastfed until she was 15 months of age. Then I came down with pneumonia again. After a weekend in hospital she refused to take the breast and I decided that I it was time to wean her.
Now with my third child I have been researching bottles rather than ways to breastfeed. I know I am going to cop it from the breastfeeding nazis at the hospital and after. I will breast feed this child for the first few days possibly weeks but at the first sign of ANY problems I am going to put the baby straight onto the bottle. I have two older children that need their mum and I can't let myself get caught up in the sleep depriving, self doubting cycle that I did with the other two. My expectations are far more realistic this time. If I can breastfeed fantastic but if it doesn't work I am not going to make myself sick over it. It will be sad but I am not going to watch this baby scream in pain because of some ideal. And if the breastfeeding nazis have anything to say they can stick it, honestly they haven't been through what I have so they have no right to an opinion in my world!
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