It has been some time now, since I wrote last. A lot of things have been happening and I have been on a journey of self discovery since the birth of my last baby.
First thing is first, my immediate postpartum experience was traumatic and took me years to get into a better headspace. I didn't talk about it much when I shared his birth story. His actual birth was pretty good, no real complaints other than I chose to have the wrong people at my birth.
I love my family with all my heart, but they're from a different mindset than I am, and unfortunately that shone brightly when my baby was born. The first issue was I felt very much observed and like I had to be a hostess instead of focusing within and labouring away.
I remember sitting on my gym ball, bouncing away while chatting to my sister and mum, my partner and dad were outside. the contractions were coming fairly often, although irregular and barely painful. I knew I needed to focus within, but I was constantly made to focus on what was going on around me. Occasionally I was able to ignore everything and focus on the labour sensations, but as soon as it was over, bam, back to reality. I never went off into labour land, a place I am very familiar with and feel safe.
I remember wanting a drink so bad, and I was (looking back) obviously in transition. If I was in my 'right mind' I would have never considered sending my partner to go to the shops into town more than 15 minutes away for something ridiculous like a Gatorade, especially since I was in labour and usually cannot stand him being in another room, I needed his presence.
In hindsight, I prepared my family badly for the realities of homebirth. I never explained that I would be asking for things that are impossible, or inappropriate at the time and to think more into what I was asking. I'm asking for a drink, because I was thirsty, not because I needed Gatorade from the shops.
I remember the contractions intensified and my mum and sister watching, during a contraction mum took a photo, and then a short video. I laugh about my comment at the time, I know I asked for video, at the time I was like 'why are you recording' to have mum reply 'you wanted a memento right?'. True, I did, and I am glad I have that footage because it was taken less than 20 minutes before baby was here, she's used it as 'proof' you can't tell when someone is literally about to have a baby when they go all textbook saying usually they're quiet, screaming and unable to talk... I was chatting, laughing and pacing around. Never trust a precipitous birther basically, labour isn't textbook.
For some reason, which still bothers me, my dad and partner were out the front talking, obviously thinking I had hours to go. I remember sending mum out to make them (in my mind I'm thinking just dad, leave my partner here with me) go get me a drink from the shops, and in the short time she was out of the room my waters went. Pop, trickle, trickle. A strange sensation since I was always either pushing when this happened or my midwife had broken them (first birth).
I assumed I was still in early labour but on my waddle down the hallway to the bathroom I felt pressure. My sister rushed outside to tell them my waters broke, my partner knowing immediately it's go time, rushed in and started filling the bathtub while I'm kneeling on the floor in front of the toilet.
While the bath was filling, I checked myself in front of my sister and mum, they didn't understand what I was doing at the time, but that's the moment I realised baby was coming much sooner, and less painfully than my other births.
The pressure was insane, it's all I felt during and in between contractions and when I had a contraction it took all my focus. I remember leaning against the bath and listening to the quiet chatter only breathlessly say to them to be quiet. I needed absolute silence, and I needed to hold my partner's hand. He kept me grounded.
When the bath was full, my partner tried to help me up, I didn't really want to move but the idea of the water was too enticing.
When I got in the bath, I felt an immediate release of tension.
I took of my crop top, joking about pooping in the bath, and when everyone except my partner left, my body just went for it. The Foetal Ejection Reflex is no joke.
I remembered thinking I had to take it slow, but I also remembered thinking, quick get this baby out before someone comes in. I pushed his head out, feeling myself tear, and waited for the rest of him to follow with the next contraction. All I could think was, keep him under the water I don't want him to drown.
Whoosh, out came baby. At that time my family came into the room, but I didn't notice. I was wondering why I couldn't pull him to my chest and saw a nuchal cord, my partner and I working seamlessly together (because this was not our first nuchal cord birth) and flipped him in a way that the cord fell away, and I brought him to my chest.
The rush of oxytocin flooded my body and I cried joyfully.
Then things went downhill....
Due to the speed of the birth, bub was a slow starter, and that is entirely normal. I knew as long as that cord was intact, he was getting oxygen. So I didn't try rubbing him to get him to cry like they do in the movies, he was making faces, wriggling upon my now empty womb and colour was slowly coming to his little body. I said hello to him and soaked in his littleness.
I was in awe of this tiny little body who's home was my womb.
Mum rushed over and grabbed a towel, one I don't think was even clean, definitely not one I had aside for the birth (I had a pile in the lounge on my bookshelf, along with other things for the birth like a receiving blanket) and began to rub his head, to make him cry. She did it for only a couple of seconds, I can't even remember if he cried because I was wondering what on earth is she doing, I said he's ok a couple of times and she backed away. I know the speed of the birth shocked her, and her medical training kicked in, so I wish in hindsight I had prepared her.
I do remember hearing a cry, and dad relieved saying that's what we wanted to hear. I snuggled my little boy, but the initial euphoria was gone and replaced with a sense of extreme vulnerability. I looked up to my family for the first time and announced his name, tears in my dads eyes. It was a happy moment, just not the euphoric birth I had with my other children. It's not anyone's fault, because this birth was a shock for us all. I had barely 10 minutes to comprehend I was actually about to give birth and suddenly I was doing it.
Because I felt vulnerable, I wanted out of the bath. I had help getting up, and they helped me sit on a chair. I felt a little weak, as you do after a precipitous birth.
I showed my little ones their new brother, I gave him his first breastfeed and soaked in his little adorable face and swollen little ears.
Mum covered my back with a towel, I must have been shivering except I wasn't cold. You almost always get the shakes after birth, no matter how the baby came out, as it's a rush of hormones flooding your body (I say almost, in case there are people who haven't experienced it, yet I have seen it in 100% of my clients, friends and birth videos I have seen as well as experiencing it first hand).
I started feeling pretty weak, I needed to lie down and asked to be helped to the lounge. I had it in my mind that there would be an adequate amount of towels and I would be helped to lie down, but instead there was one towel, and I was placed to sit on it. I kept trying to lean back, wanting to put my feet up. I wasn't in the headspace to say anything, but I will remember it forever for future births, whether it's mine or a birth I attend as a doula.
I started feeling super thirsty, so mum gave me an orange juice, and then I started feeling really dizzy, and was seeing stars. I knew this could mean I was having an issue with bleeding, and since the placenta wasn't out yet it was possible there was bleeding behind it and we wouldn't get any symptoms besides the symptoms I was experiencing.
I asked mum to check my BP, and it was significantly low (80 over something) and in that moment, I decided to transfer to hospital. I knew nobody in that room was going to be able to help me if I was haemorrhaging behind the placenta, and I had to act fast. I was getting very strong contractions but the placenta wasn't coming like it had in the past.
I asked mum to help me cut the cord, and they covered me with my favourite dressing gown. dad and my partner were getting the car ready and we were on the way to the hospital within minutes of me making the decision to go...
We arrived at the hospital, and unfortunately dad drove us to the emergency side not the birthing side, and they rushed me in.. this is where my trauma took place. I knew I made the right decision to go, but I wasn't prepared for what was to come.
They dragged me to a bed, one that was high and narrow, and mum held my baby. The small cubicle was full of at least 5 people. The midwife rushed in and took over, making demands and I heard my partner say I didn't want the needle for the placenta because they were discussing how to get it.
She started pushing on my belly and pulling the cord, it hurt a lot. I said please stop, and she did, momentarily, only to grab the cord and push my belly once again. I don't remember how many times she did this, but I kept asking her to stop and kept looking around the room for someone to tell her to leave me alone. Someone was with my family looking over my baby, nobody was focusing on me... I was merely a placenta that needed to come out, no consideration to how much pain they were inflicting on me or the fact that I had asked them to stop. I was so scared I was going to start bleeding because she was attempting to rip out a placenta that wasn't ready to come out, especially because I hadn't had syntocin to speed up the process, I would have consented had I know how desperate they were to rip it out.
MY blood pressure was normal, so I knew I wasn't actually bleeding out, my BP at home would have been a result of standing, and sitting instead of lying down.
The only angel in the room said the one thing I had hoped for, 'why don't we put baby to the breast and see of that helps the placenta release'.. whoever she was, she got my baby back to me, I needed him so much.
The midwife kept pulling and pushing, until I felt a massive RIP within me and intense pain as she pulled my placenta out.. I was relieved it was out, because it meant she would stop touching me, the exact words I said were "Thank f*ck for that" to hear panicked shushing... like I didn't deserve to be relieved, like they didn't want to admit I was a person... I was wrong in thinking she would leave me along, she tried to examine my vagina, I kept trying to close my legs. She said I had a tear that needs stitches, and they'll get the doctor to stitch me up. I thought yeah, fine, it will be like my second birth where they gave me some local and it was a painless experience.
They tried to take away my placenta once they had examined it and established it was intact. I said no, I want to keep it, so they wrapped it in the absorbent cloth and handed it to me once I was sitting in a wheelchair. It was warm and quite heavy, definitely thicker than my last placenta. They wheeled me to the maternity ward, I don't know who carried my baby with us, but I am pretty sure it was my partner.
Everything was a blur, I was glad to be away from that midwife. Although to this day, I'm not even sure whether there were one or two and if the midwife who ignored my requests to not be touched was the one who followed.
I was in a bed, wearing a gown, while the midwife fussed over my baby. I remember he pooped and mum started gathering things to wash him, like a flannel and some gentle soap, and the midwife so rudely said 'no, it's my job' taking the things out of her hands. She began using toxic Johnsons & Johnsons baby wipes, very roughly cleaning my baby. I was so stunned, I wanted someone who loved my baby to care for him, and seeing how rough she was with him, was horrifying. Mum was visibly upset, I was too stunned to say anything. I started to get angry. I haven't been able to let that anger go.
She did the usual checks and made me feel like I couldn't say no to the vitamin k injection, something I was not wanting. She stabbed him, he cried and I had to detach myself from that moment. She bundled him up and handed him around the room to my family, I'm not even sure if my partner got a cuddle until I was being examined again.... I have photos from this time, I faked a smile while I lie feeling dead inside with my baby being handed around... I was happy my parents got to have a hold, but I wanted him first.
My parents realised I would need clothes so they left the three of us to buy me something special, and because my gown was thrown away covered in blood. My partner, I think, was finally having a cuddle and the midwife came in and said the doctor was coming to check on me. she started breaking down the bed and got the stirrups up and put my legs in them. I said how on earth could anyone give birth like this, it was demeaning!! I don't think she liked my comment.....She covered my vagina with a sheet, turning on the spotlight and walked out to get the doctor, not without saying first "you're on display now" I still feel disgusting at this comment.
The doctor came in and they gave me gas and air, I started to panic when he started to touch me because I realised he was going to examine me and then stitch me with no pain relief, gas is in no way adequate for stitching such a sensitive area. He wasn't gentle, and the midwife held me down 'comforting' me, while I was squirming away due to the pain. Her attempt at comforting me was the worst thing she could have done to someone with a history of being held down in hospital.. it triggered my PTSD from when I had a severe bowel obstruction and they were shoving a NG tube down my nose saying I had to let it happen or I'd die leaving my newborn baby girl without a mum.
I begged them to stop, and it took way too long for him to leave me alone. they kept telling me in needed stitched and to stay still, but I was already triggered. I wasn't having any of it and refused treatment. The doctor spoke to me like I was a child, and sais to be don't come in crying with a damaged pelvic floor because I refused to let him stitch me. I thought who cares, you weren't going to numb ne up and I cant even see how bad the tear is to know whether to agree with his opinion that I even needed stitches. I'm of the opinion he would have stitched a graze if it was there, I've heard nasty things about him from other people who have had him at their births.
The midwife had released me, he took a step back, and asked if I was sure I didn't want to be stitched, when I said yes he rudely sighed, turned around and ripped his gloves off, waving his hands in the air as a sign of rude defeat before leaving the room. The midwife may have said something but I didn't care. I was getting some of my confidence back.
I was so angry.
The midwife tried to make excuses but I ignored her. I had enough and wanted to go home.
She left the room to do paperwork.
They hadn't even offered me a drink, yet I was to be there for 7 hours before I was discharged. After the midwife left the room I asked my poor stunned and horrified partner to go get a drink from the vending machine, while I held my baby. We had been separated way too long, I'm not even sure if I tried to breastfeed him again.
While my partner was getting a drink the midwife popped her head in the room and asked about my crohns and medication, I told her I was on Humira as my Crohn's is severe, she snaps back 'you got all your bowels?" I said yes, not bothering to mention I had a resection due to a perforation when I was a child, unrelated to my crohns, she says rudely "you don't have it bad then" and walks out... I started to cry at that point... She in just 2 seconds managed to invalidate the enormous amount of suffering I had gone through prior to and during my pregnancy. I was only on biologics to avoid surgery, she had no idea how close I was to losing a good 15cm of my terminal ilium, had no idea how many times my disease tried to kill me nor the amount of pain I was tortured with for 8 months. I wasn't just angry anymore, I was pissed!!
My partner came back and gave me a drink, he had to search the hospital for a machine and was utterly horrified at the comment the midwife made and how she had left me. We insisted on discharge as soon as she came back, I'm not even sure why she came back. I wish I had a second midwife I could have asked to not allow her back into my room.
My mum and I think my brother came to see us, as she gave me a cute little set of pyjamas to put on after I had a shower, I was uncomfortable having my brother in the room but it was not an issue at all after what I had been through. I took a 5 second shower because the water pressure was awful, a complete waste of time, considering I had the kind nurse from ER wash my legs for me. I got dressed and was anxiously waiting to leave. SEVEN FREAKING HOURS I was locked up in that torture hole.
The midwife helped us get to our car, acting like she had done the best thing in the world for us, and I just wanted to run away from her. I was so relieved to be sitting on my sore and swollen behind, on my way to my safe space...
I was numb for a while, I remembered I should announce my son's birth, not realising my sister had already mentioned it on Facebook, taking away yet one more thing from me that day... something I find unforgiveable. I couldn't go into the birth details, I wanted to forget so I merely said it was a fast birth but we were ok now. When my family got me settled they left, telling me how proud they were of me. Not knowing that inside I was a broken person. I ripped off the armband the hospital put on me as fast as I could, I threw it away even though I have a weird thing with collecting them.
My brother in law was notified and he came for a quick visit, I just wanted to be alone and I could tell he realised that. When I was on my own I started to break down, but I kept a smile on my face when anyone saw me. The kids didn't need to see how broken I was.
I didn't sleep that night, I kept reliving every moment. the pain, the rude comments, being held down... I cried and cried while I held my newborn son skin to skin, I knew I was going to find it difficult getting over that experience. I was grateful I birthed my baby at home on my terms, instead of being induced with a midwife I didn't truly trust, I was grateful he was healthy and was breastfeeding well. I tried to tell myself I should be happy, but I was anything but.
I spent the next few days in a sleepless daze, my only saving grace was my sweet baby boy. I shared a selfie the morning after the birth and mum commented on how exhausted I looked and begged me to get some rest. She didn't know yet, that I spent that night awake and crying.
It was maybe two days before I called the hospital and made a formal complaint and the midwife was incredibly compassionate, I am forever grateful she listened to me and validated my feelings.
A few days later I got a letter from the hospital with the birth details on it to give to my GP when I went in for a check-up (although I never do them) and the details were all wrong. It said it had been 2 hours before the placenta had come, the birth time was wrong and it stated I had a second degree tear... the very thing I had asked about when they insisted I needed stitching, although they refused to give me information. I know exactly what 1st, second, third and fourth degree tears are, I assumed at the time they used a different grading system... they didn't, they just withheld information from me.
I panicked, tried checking my tear and seeing if it really should have been stitched and couldn't tell so I panicked even more and called the hospital, imagining a gaping hole in my vagina where it was now too late to heal properly (as the best time to receive stitches is within 48h).
I requested the head midwife, the one I had spoken to days before when making my complaint and she said to come in and she will see me herself. So I did, I felt safe, I knew she actually cared.
When I arrived I found I was curling myself up, almost shielding myself from the hospital itself. my voice barely worked as I asked to see the midwife and when she came to get me I overheard the other midwife comment very quietly on how upset and scared I had looked, the midwife I was there to see said I'd had a very difficult time and that was why I was there.... validation once again.
She took me to the birth centre, a completely different part of the birth ward, where there was a double bed and a birth pool. We chatted about why I was there and more in depth about the disgraceful treatment I received and she was horrified. She said to me I was absolutely right about cord traction and pulling the placenta could definitely cause the bleeding I was so afraid of. She said I was obviously well informed and know what I was talking about. I was promised the midwife would be reprimanded and she would call a staff meeting to remind them about consent and non-consent. I didn't even have the energy to go into the Doctor's attitude... I got a letter a few weeks later explaining the action that was taken.. she kept her job only because she wasn't a regular member of the staff.
She checked my tear and said she wouldn't have bothered stitching me up and was surprised they wanted to, I was reassured that it was healing and I won't have issues with it at all. Having the opportunity to debrief with someone who had access to my notes took some weight off my shoulders, when I went home, I finally got some sleep.
It was still a looong road of recovery. I had bouts of rage and had nothing but flashbacks on his birthday. Every time I looked at the clock I was remembering what had been happening at that time and I was relieved when his birthday was over. I'm glad it was only his first birthday, he will never remember not having a cake. When he was 18 months old I had enough and started antidepressants, the first lot I was given I had a severe reaction to, I tried to kill myself even though I wasn't suicidal. Then I went on another class of antidepressants and slowly, the pain within was fading and I was able to see things from a different perspective. I was able to celebrate his second birthday with no flashbacks. I started a course in Aged Care, wanting to take a break from birth for a while, and I was in a pretty good place for a while.
I finished my course and did my work placement, which went alright, I was gaining confidence thinking about getting a job there until I was told to feed someone who should never have been fed by a student. She choked, her face went blue and although I was able to resolve the issue and was praised with my professionalism, but with that experience, all my confidence was gone. I knew I would not be able to work in aged care, I struggled enough as it was to go in every day and see people near to death.. birth is where I am meant to be.
I took a couple of weeks to process what happened and with my partner's full support we decided although I spent over a thousand to do the course, I was not going to work in aged care, and I would pursue my certification as a birth doula.
So, as of the end of January, I have been a student of Childbirth International, slowly making my way through the course. Not long after I was getting requests to be their birth doula and I was ecstatic! Throughout the year I went to a few births and some beautiful relationships were formed. I witnessed so much joy and I decided to start weaning myself off of the antidepressants late August. It was hard, oh so hard, whenever I was almost weaned I would get intense itching all over and many times I took another tablet just to stop it. It took a few weeks but I got myself off, and I didn't slip back into depression. In September I had the opportunity to start the Stillbirthday course, to become a bereavement doula, I want to be able to support my future clients if the unfortunate was to happen, I would not want to abandon them in a way and not be able to give the support I know they deserve, I am not certified yet, I've got a little ways to go before that happens.
Fast forward to now, I'm doing really well and eagerly anticipating the 3rd birthday of my littlest, the 5th birthday of my first planned freebirth bub, the 9th birthday of my daughter and the little boy whose birth changed me forever by being impatient and coming after just 90 minutes of labour at home in my bathroom, will be turning 7.... I cannot believe how much my life has changed and how awesome it is right now.
That isn't all though, as of today (Saturday the 3rd of Feb), I am 19 weeks with our fifth child!!!! We are beyond excited, I have been quite sick this time around. I actually got bad enough to need a few admissions into hospital for rehydration, as recently as last week I was given 3 litres of fluids!! I am feeling better though this week, yesterday was the first time I didn't throw up, although today I haven't been as lucky today.
I have delayed seeing a care provider, so at this point in time I am unassisted. I am honestly afraid of having to go back into a hospital for pregnancy, even though this is a different hospital which I know and like.
I am nervous and excited, I am once again hoping for a little girl but right now I only care that the baby is healthy, and developing as they should be. I'm fully intending to have another freebirth, unless something comes up that means it would be unsafe.
I will update occasionally, as currently there has been little change week by week except for my belly getting bigger :)
This ended up far longer than I had planned, if you managed to read all the way through, thank you. I may have to go back and review this, but at this moment I am just clicking publish with my thoughts as they are.
Namaste x
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