When you've experienced a traumatic birth

I gave birth six days ago to my son Neil.

I dreamt about him for 10 months. I prayed over him in my womb daily. I am so in love with him I can’t even find the words (and I’m a writer.)

I celebrate Neil separate from my birth. Because my birth was a traumatic one and I want thoughts of him to be unconnected from that.

But this is my birth story. I’m sharing this just in hopes that it helps any other woman who also doesn’t have the magical birth she desired. It is a LOT to process afterwards. I’m having a hard time.

I will start by saying I had an incredibly healthy pregnancy. Despite my health issues (pituitary tumor, interstitial cystitis, Hashimotos) I was so energetic and all signs green my whole 10 months. Which was such a nice reprieve mentally as I had miscarried a year before and had to work a full year after to get my body to where it could handle a full term pregnancy.

I ate well. I stayed on my routines. I worked out the entire 40 weeks. I prepped. I gave it my all (but also wasn’t rigid) and it paid off. Those 10 months were glorious. First trimester doesn’t count. ;)

I don’t know why but I figured that because my pregnancy was so healthy I would also have an amazing birth.

My plan was to go unmedicated at a birthing center. I have a LOT of medical PTSD from all my bladder issues growing up and I was trying to do anything I could to not have too many hands and gadgets and tools and people around that area. Birthing center seemed the way to go.

When I say I have medical PTSD I mean big time. Like until I finally did some brain spotting and real therapy I used to throw up anytime I thought about it. I’d go through life numbing myself various ways just to get away from the memories in my head. I grew up feeling violated and disgusting and exposed. I knew so many people who had beautiful hospital births, but it was the last thing I wanted because of my past.

So the day came.

I was 40 weeks and 5 days.

All in all, my labor was 3 days long. (I know— insane.)

I labored the first day at home- contractions on and off but somewhat manageable. When I got to the point where I was groaning in pain for hours on end I finally went to the birthing center with Dan and our Doula Lydia. (Dan was the best partner throughout the entire thing and Lydia was God’s actual gift to us during this whole thing.)

When I got to the birthing center they checked me and despite being in tremendous pain already I was only 4cm dilated. But it progressed FAST. It was so wild too- everything my doula was telling me to consider doing I would do and it worked! 4cm, 5cm, 6cm, 7cm! It was so exciting whilst also being so tough physically.

Dan, Lydia and I were praying so hard the whole time. Worship music going. God’s presence was really felt.

But then things started to stall. I stayed at 7cm for around 12 hours— no pain meds. I did have nitrous oxide which helped a litttttle at first, but honestly— it does not do much. I remember Lydia looking at me and being like “I know, it’s weak right. I wanted it to be more as well.” I was like dang…. because I was banking on that thing haha.

So, 12 hours at 7cm nothing to numb the pain. (I thought it was longer than 12 hours when I reported this to my girlfriends but Dan and I recently sat and did official time stamps.)

No sleep. Agony. I was beginning to ask God why this was happening. Why God why. Please let this not be Your will Lord. Please don’t abandon me. I was getting so scared.

The midwives told me things were still progressing and Neil and my vitals were still good so it was very conflicting on what to do next. I was 8cm and even pushing sliiiightly just to open up my pelvis a bit.

Towards the end I was fighting through it so hard that my eyes started rolling in the back of my head. My contractions were giving me no breaks. I had to tap out and go to the hospital.

Dan drove us and I was screaming the whole way, screaming the whole way into the hospital.

The first night shift crew, I won’t sugar coat it, minus one angel of a nurse— the rest were really dismissive and forceful.

When they were trying to do my IV, it took them SEVEN tries. They blew four veins. I begged them please stop trying and get someone else in here. They finally brought in an Anesthesiologist who got it in one try. When it was just him and I he said, you have the easiest veins, this was sloppy work I’m so sorry that happened to you.

Almost a week later my arms and hands are completely bruised up.

The night shift doctor was pushing for a C-section immediately. We said we really wanted to deliver vaginally and she was quite annoyed but said OKAY— I think we can get you there.

I had to get an epidural and massive amounts of pitocin. I begged them to not give me a catheter because if my bladder issues but I didn’t win that argument. After 2+ days of labor, you do what you have to. We also got a good hour or two to rest.

By the time I was fully dilated and ready to push, the day shift had came in. And let me tell you, they were ANGELS. Actual ANGELS.

My Mom came in and got to help me push and she rushed over to my side and I just cried at the sight of her. How I needed my Mom.

I pushed for another 3 hours. Hard.

Again, the team at that time were angels. Which I believe God really blessed me with knowing my history. It was all women and they were so so supportive and kind.

They REALLY tried for me to deliver vaginally, but one after one each doctor or midwife were saying the same thing- that my pelvis was too small and if the baby were to come through his head would have to mold, like excessively. Honestly… I have hips. I was so pissed to hear this- I should have benefitted from a bigger pelvis.

After 3 hours of intense pushing I had to change course and accepted the c-section. I was crying and (this is how amazing the team was) both the hospital midwife and OBGYN came over and actually put their hands on my head and told me they hadn’t seen a fight like that in a long time and I should be proud- not ashamed. Just such a scary and vulnerable moment of knowing what was to come and those words meant a lot to me.

The c-section was terrifying. The operating room, everything. Suddenly I was upset with myself for not preparing for other things to happen (even though so many people told me to prepare) I just thought it.. it wasn’t going to happen to me. But here I was, it was happening.

During my c-section I started feeling it- like feeling them operate. I know, worst nightmare right. I yelled out and they quickly told me I could either be put to sleep or they could give me fentanyl. I chose fentanyl and it took away the pain of the surgery. But it sadly made me completely out of it.

He came out crying, but they didn’t delay the cord clamp as long as I wanted. I didn’t get to see him until 5-10 minutes after birth and even then I was so out of it I couldn’t hold him or really touch him. My memory of the first hour of his life (which I had romanticized— getting skin to skin etc) was vanished.

Recovering in the hospital for 3 days was hell. Nurses told me I am basically recovering from both a vaginal delivery and a c-section. I was vomiting, couldn’t control my bladder or bowels, my arms were so banged up I could barely hold Neil.

Since being home, it’s been hard to process. I can’t stand up straight, getting up and down is torture, I pee myself a few times a day (as I am typing this though, it’s getting better.) My arms hurt, I have a hard time sitting up to support myself while nursing Neil. The pain is excruciating.

My bladder is a big concern. So much contact with tools and bacteria and hands etc. The very thing I was trying to avoid. But I am hopeful I’ll make a recovery.

My c section scar is twice the size of normal c-section scars. I’m not sure why that happened but it’s the cards I was dealt.

I’m trying hard to support my liver as I had so many drugs in my system and continue to cycle through various NSAIDs right now.

I feel so guilty not being able to just pick up Neil willy nilly. Not being able to even lift him from the bassinet.

Dan has been holding it down. Changing every diaper. Every outfit. Getting me set up to breast feed. Making sure I am fed. Doing all the house work. Everything. I am so thankful for him.

I talk to God about why this happened. How I could go from feeling so empowered and energetic and positive to being completely vulnerable and wrecked. Full transparency- I haven’t found complete resolve yet but I do know his ways are not my ways. He has plans I don’t understand. He lets things happen for a reason and if we give glory and trust to him- he WILL use every story and circumstance for good.

I know He loves us. I know he didn’t abandon me. I know he was working in ways I didn’t see- who knows what he protected me from.

I know he gave both Dan and I a lesson in surrender. Something we both needed.

God is so good and he gave us the miracle of life. He has given us a family who cares and friends who care. Despite all the pain and how things went I praise Him even harder because I trust Him so much. I know there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

I’m so sorry to anyone who didn’t have the birth they dreamed of. And even more if it turned into a traumatic one. I pray you still have lots of space to celebrate your baby separately. And celebrate YOU. I promise you have the ability to heal emotionally and you WILL find silver linings and those silver linings will inspire others as they see how you handled everything in the end.

We’re going to be okay. We ARE. <3