Birth Story of the Week- Jess + Harrison

Meet Jess + Harrison! This week Jess shares her experience with such honesty and humour.  
I'm so glad that our paths crossed before Harrison's birth and of course afterwards too. 
Thank you for your submission!!

***************************************************************************

I always wanted a hospital birth. I find hospitals really calming and reassuring and I have great memories of being a child and hoping that one day I would be the one in the hospital gown with the flowers and baby toys, holding my very own little one. Also, my baby was conceived through IUI via a sperm donor, and I figured if he was conceived in a medical facility, he might as well be born in one too.

The other reason I wanted a hospital birth was that, although I live in Toronto, I was going to be moving back to my hometown to give birth, and I know a lot of doctors and staff at that hospital, which, as you will later read, had its pluses and minuses.

About a month before my due date I made my way back home. I disliked being pregnant, I couldn’t envision this thing growing inside becoming a person, it seemed too bizarre. He was a real mover too, kicking at my ribs and stomach, making me feel like I was creating some sort of alien destroyer. I was also sick throughout the process, vomiting right up until I went into labour, so by the end I was a neurotic, tired mess. 3 weeks before my son’s due date I became desperate for him to make his way out…but nothing happened, he continued to float in his happy little fish bowl, with no apparent intentions of making a move.

Every week I would go into the obstetrician hoping something was going to take place, each time I was sent back home to play the waiting game. On my due date they stripped my membranes and I lost my mucus plug a few days later, but still, the baby didn’t seem to be too fussed about that.

FINALLY, and I mean FINALLY, I was at 41 weeks and my OB told me I could be induced. That Monday I went into the hospital with no intention of leaving, but of course it doesn’t work that way, they just start your induction and send you back home. “Come back at 5pm or when you can’t stand the pain” they said. I lasted until 3:15. By that point I was experiencing bad enough contractions that I didn’t want to be near anyone except a doctor, or possibly drug dealer.

Once I went back in, I felt a lot better, during my contractions I went into a sort of trance, a weird animalistic focus I had never experienced before. I couldn’t handle ANY sounds, I needed complete silence as I hunched on all fours counting down the minutes. In the middle of one particularly bad contraction a complete stranger busted into my room and with the loudest voice said “hello, I’m Barb, Judy’s mom…do you remember Judy? You went to daycare together. This is such an exciting time, congratulations, do you know what you are having? I remember when I had my first grandchild”. Who was this person????!!! I actually thought I might claw her eyes out, if I wasn’t completely incapacitated. This was the downside of knowing everyone in the hospital. It turned out my father had seen this woman in the hallway (she cleaned for the hospital), told her what was happening and that she should go say hi. That was not a wise suggestion on his part. Eventually my mother was able to get her out of the room and one of the nurses came in, a girl I went to high school with who said the most glorious words I had ever heard…”do you want to try some morphine”? The answer was yes, yes I did want to try that.

The morphine helped but by no means got rid of the contractions, so I still remained in my focused and zoned out state. Every hour a nurse would come in and check on me, I wasn’t very dilated on those checks, and every time they would try and get me to go home. “You can have a warm bath at home, wouldn’t you feel comfortable lying in your own bed?” My answer was no. There was no morphine at home, I did not want to feel that bumpy car ride home, and baths made me nauseous when I was pregnant anyway. Unless they were going to kick me out I was hunkered down. They kind of rolled their eyes but let me stay.

At about 8pm my doctor finally came in to break my water. This is where things took a turn for the worse. Once my water broke my babies heart rate started to drop, fast. Within seconds nurses were swarming me, putting needles in my arm, prepping me for surgery, and then all of a sudden, his heart rate return to normal. The swarm calmed down, things seemed ok. My Ob was still nervous, and suggested I have an epidural, in case I ended up needing a C-section. I was always hoping for an epidural anyway, so I was fine with that, but still a nervous wreck about the baby’s heartbeat. Every beep on the baby’s monitor tightened my muscles. They moved me into the birthing suite and gave me the epidural (which I was terrified was going to hurt, and which I didn’t even feel). And for a few hours everything seemed fine, well sort of fine. My baby’s heart rate would be normal until my doctor did any sort of internal checking, and then it would fall, only to return quickly to normal. I was closely monitored but no one seemed too concerned, my doctor went home, the lights in my room dimmed, my mother wanted to take a sleeping pill or use the Jacuzzi bath in the room, both of which I declined to let her do.

And then just like that whoosh, alarms started blaring, nurses were swarming me, checking reports and monitors, calling my doctor back in. I guess the head nurse had looked at my monitor reports and had enough of a dipping heart rate, she didn’t like it and she wanted that baby out now. My doctor told me I needed an emergency C-section. Although the idea of a C-section didn’t bother me when I was pregnant, in labour, having been so close to fully dilated, I was a mess. I started to cry and freak out about the idea of my organs being taken out of my body (they don’t do that, but someone once told me they did and it stuck in my head). They wheeled me into the operating room, froze me, and started the operation.

I was having such strong contractions that my doctor was having a hard time getting the baby out, but finally she said “I can see him, he’s staring back at me”. This was both an amazing thing to hear and very bizarre. He was like a little alien, all tucked away in there. They pulled him out and then….then there was just silence.

Two nurses rushed him over to a corner of the room and my mother, who was holding my hand, started to hyperventilate. Why wasn’t he crying? Why wasn’t someone telling us SOMETHING?? The anesthesiologist came over and told my mother that she had to be strong for her daughter. The nurses were doing everything they could but my if my mother couldn’t keep it together they would have to ask her to leave. I went whiter as a ghost and my mother started to gag. I think we both thought this baby wasn’t going to make it.

And then, although my baby remained completely silent, they brought him to me for the briefest of minutes, and he was blinking and seemed to be breathing on his own, and seemed okay. The doctor told me they wanted to take him to the neonatal unit while they finished surgery on me, so my mother and son both left as they started to close me up.

I still hadn’t gotten a good look at my son, and nobody had said anything to me about his health either, so I started to get a little antsy. My mother didn’t seem to be returning and where was my baby??!!! I sent my main nurse to find out what was going on, and then she didn’t come back. Finally, I begged the anesthesiologist to go and find out and TO COME BACK with an answer. He told me the baby was fine and that my mother was watching him being weighed with “some elderly gentleman with a beard” who he presumed correctly was my father.

As relieved as I was that everything was okay, I still didn’t feel like it could be okay until I saw my baby, until I held him in my arms, I wanted my baby. It seemed like forever for them to finish the surgery and wheel me in recovery and finally bring my son to me, although it was probably a matter of minutes.

And then there he was, in my arms, cuddled right next to my boob. He was my 6lb 8oz perfect little peanut. Everything felt right with the world. I still didn’t understand how I created this perfect little man, and I still don’t, every day I look at him I’m mystified, but in the end, all that drama, all that fear, none of it mattered. In the end he was safe and fine and all mine.

I stayed in the hospital for 3 days after that, mainly to recover from my surgery. The worst part of that situation is taking out the catheter and having to use the toilet. I was perfect happy to accept the fact that I was just going to use a catheter the rest of my life, that was fine, just leave it in there. The nurses thought not. Oh, and then the feeling like all your organs are going to fall out of your incision, that was an unpleasant feeling as well. I needed those three days in hospital, I cherished them, I got so much attention, lactation nurses, nutrition specialists, doctors to check on me and the baby. I felt like a superstar. And just like my memories of the past, people sent flowers and gifts and came to visit and oohed and awhhed over my (still very quiet) precious gift.

I named my baby Harrison Victor Fisher Crockett. He was born 12/12/17. Although his birth was drama filled, I only have good memories of it, for me, it created him, and I was so well look after that I can talk about it without any sort of anxiety or bad feelings. I know I’m lucky in that regard.

Final note- apparently it’s common for C-section babies not to cry because the mucus isn’t pushed out of them as it would be coming down the birth canal. This is one aspect of the birthing process I did wish I knew in advance.

Final, final note: MOVIES LIE, giving birth was NOTHING like any movie or tv show I have ever seen. It was such a completely different experience, both emotionally and physically. I’ll never look at the film or TV industry the same way again.

I'm so excited to be sharing Birth Story of the Week as a regular feature! 
This project is about bringing our stories together and providing a wonderful resource for new and expecting families in our community. All births are wonderful and should be celebrated, no matter what type of birth (home, hospital, midwife/ OB, doula supported or not) if you would like to share your birth story please email it to info@nestedbirth.com a photo or two would also be great.

Stories will be featured on my social media platforms and blog. My hope is that we can educate families on the options available in our community, provide healing and empowerment through sharing and of course CONNECTION.