Lander's Birth Story: The 1%

Lander's birth story began long before she was born.  In fact, it started here, where our tiny miracle gave us quite a scare with no heartbeat and abnormal measurements.  The doctor told us there was no explanation for his diagnosis of a non-viable fetus...but more importantly, when it was discovered our baby was indeed living inside me, he could only credit "faith" with her existence.  He had been 100% sure that our baby was dead, and even after her faint heartbeat had proven otherwise, he was still 99% sure. WE were "The 1%."

Lots of people have questioned my dates, assuming that it was too early for a heartbeat to be detected, thinking I must have miscalculated, and of course when my 40 weeks pregnant had come and gone, those doubts resurfaced from many of the same curious minds.  Unless I was impregnated by an alien, I am confident I did not miscalculate.  Jack was 10 days late, and no one seemed to think anything of it, but this time around 16 days was definitely more challenging.  Perhaps it is a sign for what lies ahead of me in the parenting of a daughter, trying my patience, waiting for her to make her grand entrance into this world and into our lives.  The truth is I couldn't stand waiting for her.  I was miserable, terribly uncomfortable, emotionally spent and physically exhausted.  And I was scared.

In those last couple of weeks the doctor appointments were plenty as the baby was being checked for stress since she was taking her precious time.  Dr. B was not in any rush to induce me, as he was highly respectful of my medical intervention anxiety, and he believed that I would go into labor spontaneously by all odds. He explained that in a group of 100 pregnant women, 80 of them would give birth by 41 weeks.  Of the remaining 20, 18 would deliver by 42 weeks.  My baby was born at 42 weeks and 2 days.  Again, WE were "The 1%."

Now I know that technically, 2 out of 100 is actually 2%, but I'm clearly being more figurative than literal in my overall story.  The point is we defied the odds both going in and coming out of this birth experience. Where does that leave me today?  That's the easy part: I'm the proud Mama of a beautiful little fighter named Lander Lee McQuilken.

This is the story of the hard part...it is uncensored and real.

There were four midwives who could have been on call when I was in labor, two who I truly love ("M" and "A"), one I was scared to death of getting ("L"), and one who I really was just okay with, but not overly concerned about ("K").  Well, I got K.

Our birth plan was simple: natural childbirth, labor and delivery in the birthing pool, no drugs or interventions, and no needles or IVs.  Everything was centered around being in the water.  The water would relax me.  It would help me cope with the pain.  It would prepare my body for less trauma by softening my perineum.  It would allow me to be modest, providing a sort of private oasis and hiding me, and most importantly for me, it would give me distance between myself and anyone or anything.  See, I don't like to be touched by medical personnel or any sort of medical instruments.  I am terribly phobic of needles and I have extreme anxiety about medical procedures.  For the most part I realize my fears may be irrational, but they are mine and they are real.  I am not afraid of pain though.  I mean, I would not want to be shot or stabbed or willingly break a leg to prove that I'm not afraid of pain, but for whatever reason, the pain of childbirth does not scare me.  Oh, it hurts.  It hurts like hell.  It hurts SO BAD.  If they could give me a pill to make it not hurt, I'd take it.  No doubt.  But the closest way I have found so far to have a baby despite all of my other fears is to have a water birth...so that was our choice...again.    

Although I had seen K in a few appointments, I did worry about getting her b/c there were some foreshadowing moments leading up to our big day. One thing that was very odd was during our hospital tour, K was our guide; someone asked her at what point can you get in the tub.  K's response was 8-9cm.  I questioned her right then, b/c with Jack I got in at 5cm, but she still said normally 8-9. I told myself that she must be CYA-ing for the sake of hospital politics.  During other appointments I mentioned it to both M and A, who both assured me that I would not have to wait like that for the tub, saying it is different for every patient.  Another thing that struck me as odd was during an appointment I tried to talk to her about my overall needs and feelings, not just about being afraid of needles, but about how I don't like to be touched, I need privacy, I don't lose my modesty, I am terrified of instruments, etc. I let her know that Plan A is a perfect water birth, but Plan B is a c-section under general anesthesia. I am well aware of the extremes, but I almost feel she did not take me seriously. It was not a joke. I had it all arranged with Dr. B how it would go if we needed a c/s. He agreed and even felt that my low platelets made me a good candidate for G/A, meaning people would not think it was as odd and the hospital staff, which he always described as "hit or miss," would be on board. With our heartbeat issues early on and being 16 days overdue, I had seen Dr. B a lot, and many of my fears were already starting to surface. What if I needed an induction? How invasive would that be? Things like that started to haunt me. I tried to stay optimistic, and I'm sure I put on a good show, but I was a wreck those last few days.

It started on the Monday (Aug. 5th) before Lander was born. I had been having terrible rectal pain, like hemorrhoids (remember I said this would be uncensored so it may also be TMI for some), but worse b/c she was sitting so low that the pressure was constant and it felt like knives running in and out of my rectum. I was also having contractions, but I felt I was too tense to relax my pelvic floor, and perhaps that was part of the delay all along. I called and M was on call. No one had checked me yet and she wanted to see what was going on with my bum, so she had me come in. We actually went to the hospital. I got hooked up to the monitor that measures contractions (the strip), and the contractions were real, but nothing to write home about. M came in and for the first time in my pregnancy she checked me.  It was excruciating, even more so b/c of my bum. She told me on a scale of 1-10 my rear was really only looking like a 5. I freaked out b/c I could not imagine a 10 if this pain was only looking like a 5. They gave me topical lydocaine and it burned so bad. I countered it with vaseline, but that hardly worked at all. I was writhing in pain for a few hours, and then she checked me again. No progress. Contractions had stopped. Barely 2 cm. We were sent home, and I was in terrible pain. I had 3 kinds of medicine to take and use for my rear. M agreed we needed to band-aid the pain in order for my body to relax to allow labor to begin. I spent the next couple days hardly able to walk. In fact, I also had terrible pubic bone pain, called pubic symphysis, which my chiropractor had been helping with, but it was another contributing factor to not being able to walk so much or really even be that mobile through the entire 2nd half of my pregnancy. This was very different from my experience with Jack...Anyway, Jack was with GRandi for Monday and Tuesday nights. On Wednesday we got him back, but Thursday I was too afraid and uncomfy to stay home alone.  I had been having contractions off and on for a few days, and coupled by the rear issues, I was no match for a day with a toddler.  My sister and GRandi spent Thursday with me, my sister trying to get me to walk as much as possible.  I went on 2 walks that day. The first was very short and very painful.  The 2nd was very long, and just as painful, but Jack was with us, and his upbeat nature soothed me so much.  We saw 2 bunnies in our neighborhood, and that was exciting and somewhat distracting.  But when we returned home, the contractions had stopped completely. My sister left when Brett got home, and around 9PM contractions started again, but this time they were different.  Brett noticed my behavior and movements had changed, and he commented that this is how things started with Jack.  By 11PM, we were timing them, and they could not be ignored.  By midnight we had called the midwife and realized K was on call.  I started to get nervous, but I also was glad it wasn't L.  L had terrible bedside manner during my appointment with her.  She spoke inappropriately in front of Jack and I didn't feel like she listened to me at all.  She was just very curt.  I have heard she is more of a game time person, but still...I did not care for her.  So having K was a welcome feeling at first. Well, when she called me back, it was like she didn't even know who I was. She told me when we got to the hospital a nurse would check me and let her know my progress before she got there. I was like WHAT? You think I'm letting a random nurse CHECK me? Do you remember me? She said she knew I was a needle-phobe, but is there more?  I started crying in between contractions while on the phone with her. I went into panic mode and rambled everything to her at once.  She "reminded" me we are both adults and we could talk through this. I am not sure that was a smart thing to tell a hysterical woman in labor. I asked her if she was familiar with my birth plan.  She said she had not seen it.  What was the point of putting it in my chart if the on-call midwives weren't going to at least glance at it in advance?  And shoot!  In my case they had an extra 16 days to review it!  When we were done on the phone I immediately got on facebook and messaged M and A, desperate to get some support and reassurance that K would see me through this with no battles. M had assured me that if I came into the hospital in active labor I would not need to be checked at all. I'd just do the strip for 20 minutes and then get right in the tub. A got my fb message and called me twice, once leaving me a supportive message I didn't hear until after Lander was born, but the 2nd time I answered.  She "talked me down from the ledge" and mostly just reminded me to trust myself, to trust birth. I told her in between contractions that I was not going in until I knew for sure they would put me in the tub. As she could hear my labor she advised, "don't wait too long, Brooke." By 2AM GRandi came to be with Jack. It took us 15 minutes and 3 rockstar contractions to get out of the house. The car never felt so small; I was practically climbing out of it as I was contracting every 3-4 minutes. I knew we were in serious labor, and things were moving fast. I had 4 contractions just walking into the hospital. When they saw me on the7th floor, they skipped triage and put me right in LDR. I was so relieved b/c I thought I'd be getting right into the tub just like M promised.

The strip showed massive contractions. I was really progressing. I knew this was going to be quick. I had been leaky, but no gushing of waters yet. K came in and wanted to check me. I was instantly upset b/c of course I was in active labor, so why was I being checked?  Her findings: 1cm. I swore like a sailor every which way saying she was f-ing wrong, this was not f-ing true. I knew this was a f-ing mistake (did I mention the contractions HURT???). I felt like she was thinking, wow, if she is this bad at 1cm, she will never make it to 10!  I felt like they were all laughing at me.  Brett tried to get me to calm down and I ripped his head off, but he knew I was scared.  She denied me the tub.  I insisted that I needed it, that I know the "by the book" way is that sometimes the warm water can stall labor, but I wanted it anyway, and I had DONE THIS BEFORE. She argued with me and still said no. She even said that we would wait a few hours and see my progress.  A FEW HOURS???  I thought she must be crazy!  I KNOW my body!  I KNOW this baby is coming! PLEASE help me by getting me the tub so I can have my baby in a relaxed mental state!  The best she could do was offer the shower...to a woman who could barely stand b/c of pubic bone and bum pain.  I was so angry.  The next few contractions my water gushed.  When I told her, she said it was not likely, that it was probably mucous. She took a swab and then was surprised when it turned blue indicating waters, but she still did not really react. She was so nonchalant!  Hello???  My water is broken.  This is happening!  There is no turning back now!  Get me the tub!  I was totally freaking out!  Another reason I wanted the tub is b/c I don't like to feel gross. Sitting in my waters, my blood, my urine, my poo, whatever it is makes me feel so gross. The tub, although it is all in there too, helps me to feel cleaner.  It is just another one of my issues.  Always has been.

I had been checked at 3:30AM on August 10th.  About 20-30 minutes later I was in the shower.  Bracing myself on the handicap bars, screaming and moaning in pain I labored in there for about an hour.  My sister was the only one I wanted checking on me, and I constantly asked her the status of the tub.  Please get me the tub.  When could I have the tub?  My mom and my sister were both doing their best to advocate for me. They were begging for the tub, asking questions about how long it would take to fill it up, trying to express urgency!  Within that hour or so I began to feel sick.  My legs were going to give out.  I was using "strong arms," stiff and straight to hold myself up b/c I could barely stand in that shower.  With each contraction the baby was ramming into my pubic bone!  I also had back pain that I did not have with Jack.  I actually asked Brett to come push on my lower back for a few minutes, but I was too uncomfortable with anyone touching me so that didn't last long.  I was entering transition.  I asked Brett for a Pepsi b/c my stomach was so sick.  I began to have the urge to push. I was terrified! I'd been screaming Please God! Someone get me the tub! Finally I told my sister: "I don't care what you have to do, but get me that tub!  I am not having my baby on this bathroom floor!"  She went to find and talk to K again. She told her she had been here with me before (with Jack).  She knew it seemed fast but my body was working really hard, making lots of progress. The tub would change everything for me. I'd be able to relax and move. She begged her.  Finally K said she would have to call M.  My sister said do what you have to do to get that tub. 

Okay, side note...who knew calling M was even an option?  I mean, if that was the case, why didn't K just believe me in the first place when I told her M said I could get right in the tub?  Oh, you don't believe me? No biggie - just give M a quick call and we'll get this all cleared up.  The whole shower scene could have been prevented!  Or hey, how about just getting me the tub and saying something like "ok, let's get you into the tub so you can relax, and if your labor stalls we can talk about ways to get it started again then."  I mean come on!  My water had broken!  At that point the very worst thing that could happen was in 18 hours I'd need antibiotics b/c my water would have been broken for too long.  And remember, 2nd baby = not 18 hours.  She should have called M as soon as I got there...instead of arguing with me...

10 minutes after K told my sister she would have to call M, they were setting up the tub.  I was still in the shower screaming and pushing.  I got in the tub as it was filling. K must have realized she had made a mistake, and she began trying to coach me I guess, saying supportive things.  Again, she didn't know me at all b/c if she had she would have known I don't need coaching.  She finally got the hint and asked if I wanted her to just not talk at all, and I told her that would be good.  She went over to the other side of the room and all I could hear were papers being shuffled around by her and the nurse and binders being snapped open and closed.  My sister sat in the corner of the room, closest to me in the tub.  She said nothing, but she knew I would be okay.  My mother sat a bit further away but still on the same wall as my sister, and with a look of sheer terror on her face.  Brett was next to her, a bit closer to me, and he was dealing with all of this in his own way, chuckling a bit here and there, trying not to say anything, and mostly he was cold b/c the room was apparently freezing (not to me!).  He was hunched over wrapped in a blanket, and it was obvious he was scared too.  It was a somber environment.  With Jack, even through the pain, there was so much joy in the room for what was happening.  In this room, there was only tension.  

But now I had my tub, my private oasis.  K was leaving me alone.  I told her a few times I wasn't trying to be rude, but I just didn't NEED her.  I felt like she didn't get me at all, and I didn't really trust her judgment by that point anyway.  I chanted my affirmations to myself.  Thank you Jesus for the tub.  I can do this. I've done it before. Mama's here, baby. We can do this. I'm ok. I'm in the tub. Thank God for the tub.  When I first got in there was only about 3 inches of water as it was filling up.  My mother told me later that she had been so worried it would take too long to fill and I'd be having the baby as a trickle of water came out of the hose. Then apparently there had also been some confusion with the hose attachment that hooked up to the shower; more specifically, my mother said that K commented to the nurse, "Have you ever seen this before?"  All in all, by the time I was in the tub my birth team and I had little confidence in our midwife.  At one point, although I had already been pushing, I guess maybe I was trying to be nice and not exclude her (don't know why I cared!), I asked if it was okay that I was pushing.  Her response was something to the effect of "it sounds like it to me."  I'm sure she had figured out that she had clearly misjudged this situation from the get-go.  Now here I was, maybe an hour and half after being checked at 1cm, and I was pushing.  My contractions were massive, but in between I kept on reassuring myself, talking softly to myself and to Lander, letting my sister, my mom and Brett know that I really was okay.  I was finally mentally relaxed.  My legs and body were weightless.  Even though it was still painful, a lot of the pressure I'd been feeling in the shower was relieved in the tub.  My mom handed me water when I needed it and my sister used a fishnet to keep the water from getting "icky," but there was little time for that to happen anyway.  With each contraction I felt Lander moving.  I kept reaching down to feel for her head.  "Come on, baby!" I remember saying with frustration during more than one contraction.  At about 20-30 minutes in the tub, I felt her head about a finger's length from crowning.  "I can feel her head!"  I called for Brett to come see his daughter be born.  He, my mom and sister all rushed to the edge of the tub; it was as if no one expected it to happen so soon!  K and the nurse came over too, also both pretty shocked.  The next contraction her head came out! The "ring of fire" was something I did not experience with Jack, having 6 hours in the water to prepare my body, but this time, barely a half hour was not enough to lessen the burning!  The next contraction should have pushed out her body, but her shoulders were stuck!  Now I needed the midwife!  Fortunately, she stepped it up in this moment.  She had my mom and sister each grab a leg and she talked me through pushing when I was NOT having a contraction, which is very unnatural and hard to do.  I am not sure how to describe it other than maybe that is what it is like trying to push with an epidural, but with feeling all the pain, forcing your body to do something that it is intentionally trying not to do.  K asked if she could place her finger so as to protect my bottom, and I told her yes.  I felt myself tearing, but it was crucial I pushed this way instead of waiting so that I would not tear even more.  My baby came out and I guided her to the surface in my arms, the first to touch her, to hold her, to know her.  Tears were streaming down my face, as Brett and I became the proud parents of our precious Lander Lee McQuilken.

It sounds lovely, I know, this beautiful water birth with no real complications.  It was so much harder than with Jack though.  My body worked 800% faster during this labor, and with such little tub time, I had very little softening and relaxing.  I had been 1cm dilated when checked at 3:30AM. Lander was born at 5:43AM. K was so wrong. SO wrong. I would say that as far as a bad day at work goes, this was one of them for her; she'd been sworn at by me, possibly reprimanded by M, and then when my baby was born so quickly she told us it was a record for her, maybe even a hospital record.  She'd had another patient at 8cm for 6 hours who she was certain would deliver before me.  Of course there is much more to the story...Lander needed a respiratory team, so Brett was rushed to cut the cord so they could take her quickly for "percussion" to break up amniotic fluid from her lungs. She would be totally okay though.  I had to get out of the tub and into the bed so they could collect her cord blood and deliver the placenta.  K did that for me, and it was a very quick process.  Lander was about 2 feet away from me with the respiratory team, Brett by her side the whole time, my sister taking some pics and videos.
  

I could hear Lander cry, and I was crying myself, so overwhelmed with emotion for both the trauma I had been through and the amazing gift from God I had finally just met.  When it was time, I declined stitches for my level 2 tear, and I refused to let anyone other than my mother clean me up.  It was very obvious the staff all thought I was nuts.  I didn't care.  I just didn't want to be touched ANYMORE.  With Jack I had bled out and required 2 shots of Pitocin after he was born, likely due to low platelets; I lost so much blood that I fainted twice...so this time we documented in our birth plan to have the Pitocin ready just in case.  At first K said I did not need it this time; it looked like I was not hemorrhaging, but then I started having these huge clots of blood, and my sister had to rush out and grab a nurse during shift change b/c I was bleeding so badly! K came back and agreed now that I DID need it; she had been wrong again!  In all this chaos, we did not know who our new nurse was, but K said the nurse usually gives the shot.  A staff member walked by with a huge needle and I said out loud in a panic  "OH MY GOD, is THAT the needle?"  Turned out this was our nurse; she scolded me immediately and said if I had been paying attention to her I would know she said she was going to change the needle.  Um, I'm sorry, I don't even know who you are, I just had a baby who I am not even able to see from the bed I'm in, there are people beating her back to get fluid out of her lungs, there are 10 other people in this room, and yes, I'm scared!  My mother, who is a nurse herself, was horrified by this, and she commented that that nurse's behavior was rude and very unprofessional.  The nurse actually came back with "don't worry, you won't have to deal with me for long b/c you are going downstairs" (to postpartum). At that point I told K I was not comfortable with mean nurse lady doing it, so K agreed to give me the shot.  I got myself all ready for it mentally, which is a process in itself.  The baby nurse suggested I hold Lander, so they finally gave her to me for a few minutes and she helped me to be strong.  And then, as K went to put it in, the needle fell off!  That is like torturing a needle-phobe! I had to prepare myself all over again!  It was as if the mean nurse did it on purpose!  Of course, she could have just been incompetent.  It was horrible, scarier to me than the pain of giving birth (but not so scary as worrying I would push my baby onto the shower floor!).


Finally Lander and I were both okay and we were moved to the postpartum floor.  The mean nurse wheeled me down as I held my baby girl in my arms. With Jack I had lost so much blood that I barely remember being wheeled to my postpartum room, but this time I was alert and so overwhelmed by the whole experience.  I was beaming with pride as people in the hallways smiled at me and my precious new angel, Lander Lee.  It was like a victory lap...

Later that day K came to see me.  She told me this was a learning experience for her.  I was very nice to her despite my frustrations.  I was still sort of out of it from giving birth.  She never apologized, but she did seem somewhat hesitant about even conversing.  I asked her if she did in fact call M to get me the tub, and she said yes.  I thanked her for doing that, even though she waited too long.

As the day wore on visitors came and went, and I eagerly awaited for the moment when Jack would meet his little sister.  I can't even tell you what time it was when it happened; the hours seemed to be whizzing by.  Jack came in with GRandi and PaPa, and he was happy to see his mama and daddy, but mostly he enjoyed getting some presents!  He was a bit shy about Lander at first.  He did not want to hold her but said he wanted to hold her at his house.  I did not want to be holding Lander when he walked in b/c I wanted to focus solely on him so I could hug and kiss him, which I did of course!  Then we put him up on the bed and he peered over the edge of the baby bed to see his little sister.  He said things like "look at her tiny knees!"  He asked "what's that on her penis?" thinking the cord was her penis and wondering about the clamp.  I explained that was her belly button and it used to be the hose that connected her to mommy.  Of course I also told him she does not have a penis.  ;-) After awhile his attention was fading and GRandi and PaPa decided it was time to leave.  Brett and I missed him again the second he was gone...

The next day M came to see me, and she wanted to see the damage.  She told me that now my rear was a 10, but I happily exclaimed, "well, it feels like a 5!"  As soon as Lander came out, the pressure I'd been feeling was significantly relieved. It was quite phenomenal actually. M said I really could benefit from the stitches, but that I WOULD heal either way, but it would take longer. She reassured me I was not crazy for not wanting them, and she was supportive and non-invasive.  I had 3 different kinds of medicine to help me heal and she told me to keep my legs together as much as possible to help encourage the tear to heal properly on its own.  I told her thank you so much for answering her phone and getting me the tub and I asked her what she said to K.  "I told her I don't care where she's at, get her in the tub right now! That is why she is HERE!"  I instantly felt angry again and also so validated.  But, I don't understand why the stars did not align for me to get M or A in the first place, and I am still so sad about it.  I am glad K learned something from me, but really, I wasn't there to teach her. I was there to have my baby in a relaxed, stress-free environment of a special tub just for me and Lander. I was assured I would not have to battle, and yet I was at war.  I hated that location.  The drive was awful. The traffic was awful.  The surrounding environment was awful...but I went b/c of the midwives, M and A, who I believed would take care of me...and in the end I was so let down b/c K didn't LISTEN to me. She didn't TRUST me. She didn't support me or fight FOR me. She fought against me the entire time. She had obviously not HEARD me in our appointments. My needs were NOT met. And yet, she delivered my baby and helped me get her out safely with as little injury to me as possible when she was stuck. It is such a mix of emotions I have for her, both appreciation and disdain. Thank God for my mom and sister who fought for me the entire time!

B/c I felt like I needed to rest and I was in much more pain and discomfort this time around, we opted to stay for 48 hours.  Despite the one mean nurse in LDR, all of our postpartum nurses were amazing.  We left for home before noon on Sunday.  The first week was really hard for me.  I was so uncomfortable, and keeping my legs together required a lot of actual effort.  My chiropractor came for her home visit; she is good friends with M, and she was very sure that M, being the owner of the midwifery practice, would want to hear about my awful experience with K.  My pubic bone had been hurting so badly, but when she did the tests for the symphysis, she did not find the same issue.  She believed I had a pubic bone injury from the circumstances of the insane contractions I had while standing in the shower, like really bad bruising.  She said she has actually had a patient who was partially paralyzed after a similar experience. It makes a lot of sense to me b/c that is how it felt, like the baby was just ramming into my pubic bone b/c of gravity and nowhere to go as I clenched my painful rear and tried NOT to deliver in the shower.  Anyway, as I told her my story, I found my emotions overflowing again.  I know much of it was hormonal, but I was (and am) still just so sad about how I was treated.  I feel like I could have had my baby with any midwife and at North Fulton again, one street over from my house, if I'd known I wasn't going to benefit from the midwives I sought out to catch my baby. Another really sad part is that I feel more of an attachment to Dr. B than anyone else b/c of how supportive and kind he was to me throughout my whole pregnancy, truly understanding and acknowledging my issues, and never making me feel bad about it, but rather saying he felt like it was remarkable that I knew what I could handle and that it took all the guess work out of it for them b/c I was so prepared.  I did not count on having any battles over getting in the tub.  Who knows if the extra hour or so I could have had in there would have made a difference to my injuries and tearing, but I know for a fact it would have helped me mentally.  

So now Lander is just over 6 weeks old, and we are home and settled in.  I am healing more every day.  The first 2 weeks were the hardest, not being able to drive and trying to adjust with both kids and Brett being at work.  Jack has really been so good; he had 1 week of crazy tantrums, and then he also got sick with the croup and then a stomach bug, but we made it through, and now we are in the swing of things.  He is an awesome big brother.  He sings her little songs he makes up and he tells her, "I love my Lander Lee, little cutie pie!"  He kisses her and wants to help me with her, and only a handful of times has he asked me not to nurse her so he can do something with me instead.  I've tried to focus on him and play with him whenever she is sleeping, so laundry and house cleaning are not often checked off of my to-do list, but who cares!  

Honestly, the hardest part has been getting over the emotional trauma of how I was treated by the midwife. I have replayed the morning of Lander’s birth over and over again in my mind.  I have talked to my mother, sister and husband.  I have shared my experience with my chiropractor, close friends and family and a few other mothers, some who are patients of the same practice and some who are not.  I have tried to push the disappointment aside and just be grateful for my beautiful healthy baby girl.  But a friend of mine who recently delivered VBAC with A and L said it best.  “Moms matter too.”  I matter…and I chose this practice because I believed I would be treated as if I mattered.

I had not fully decided how I was going to approach the process of emotional healing; I thought maybe it was mostly hormonal and these feelings would just go away, but they didn't.  With the support of my family, friends and chiropractor, I decided to schedule a meeting with M during my postpartum appointment to share my story in an effort to find some personal resolution.  I had been struggling to write Lander's Birth Story b/c I didn't want to say bad things about a practice that has done so much for the natural birth community, but every time I saw a post from someone who had an amazing experience, I just got sad again, reliving mine, and feeling betrayed by the practice I sought out to care for me.  I believe that in healthcare we are still consumers, and we should be able to choose our providers based on their quality of care and the relationships we build with them; when I chose my practice I did so based on the quality of care I knew I would receive from M and A, but I did not get to choose who would be on call for my baby's birth.  I had to trust that everyone in the practice was on the same page, and I was assured multiple times, even by Dr. B, that they all would be...but my experience proved otherwise.

My meeting with M was so much more meaningful than I even imagined it would be.  Not only was M genuinely sorry for what happened, but she was also truly compassionate and sympathetic to my feelings, and she treated me so respectfully.  She told me that it meant the world to her that I came to talk to her about it, and that she did not understand why K did not just get me the tub in the first place.  She agreed 100% that K had not HEARD me, despite my pleading, and she clearly did not trust me or my instincts.  I have read many comments and stories from moms who had a wonderful experience with K, so I certainly cannot say she isn't basically a good, caring midwife, and I do believe she acted in what she thought would be in my best interest; the problem was she didn't actually KNOW me.  If she had paid better attention in our appointments together she would have understood what I needed, and we could have trusted each other; M confirmed this statement even more solidly for me.  I did not ask M exactly how she will handle this with K, but I did say I don't want this to happen to anyone else.  M replied that she doesn't know what the future holds for K either, but she doesn't want someone working in her practice who cannot LISTEN to women and respect their needs.  The whole time we talked M sat close to me, she held my hand, she looked right in my eyes, and she made me feel so important.  She told me that I was an incredibly strong woman, and she reminded me how wonderfully I did, especially when I finally got into the tub.  She said that she understood and believed in my need to tell my story, and that telling it will help me to heal.

All in all, I know how I was treated by K was not typical of the practice I chose, and once again, we are "The 1%," living yet another experience so far out of the norm.  But I believe M will follow through and share my experience with her staff.  She will reiterate the importance of listening to patients and make sure that everyone really is on the same page.  In the end, M more than provided me with the closure I needed to complete Lander's Birth Story.  I thank her for that.  Her deeply caring response inspired me to forgive K, and forgiveness is how I know I can move on...

A special shout out of thanks goes to A (you know who you are!) for answering my fb message in the middle of the night and calling me.  She truly was a driving force in my ability to cope through the drama that ensued.    Her encouraging words and gentle reminders to "trust birth" helped me remember to just rely on myself, to know I could do it, and to look forward to having my baby girl in my arms.

Oh, my sweet little Lander...she is my delicate little flower.  She is so floppy and so much like a BABY baby - she just melts into your body when you hold her and she is so snugly and warm.  She smiles a LOT!  She smiled in her first week, like a real smile, not just gas, but a real reaction.  Mostly Brett gets her to smile. Something about his face I guess is just funny looking!  :-)  Or else maybe she just already senses he will never be able to tell her no!  She is such a special blessing, a true miracle, "the 1%."  My heart has doubled in size to love both her and her brother, and I thank God every day for choosing ME to be her mother.  He wanted HER to be my little girl, my daughter.  I could not have imagined her more perfectly than HE made her.

The McQ Zoo is complete...

And so is Lander's Birth Story!  :-)