Last week I shared the story of a less than ideal c-section, where the mommy was left feeling like a victim after many complications and a hard recovery. But c-sections, done under the right circumstances, can and DO save the lives of both mommies and babies and aren’t always horrific and disappointing, as this mommy shares, with the right preparation and mindset, c-sections can be a beautiful thing!
Hi, my name is Tess and I am the proud mama of 3 beautiful babies (and 2 heavenly children,) wife to one fabulous and saint-like husband and I am alive and well today thanks to 3 very necessary and (thankfully) successful c-sections.
When given the opportunity to write for Beyond Mommying and C-section awareness I thought I might just talk about my most recent delivery, as it paints a picture of what every mother who has lost the chance to deliver their babies naturally hopes their cesarean delivery could be…but you might not appreciate it quite as much without understanding how my first two kids came into the world.
My first pregnancy ended in an early miscarriage while I was in college- a blur of a time in my life where I was dancing professionally and training 60-70 hours a week. While I was prepared to trade my life on stage with one of a mom, my body had other plans.
After my husband (high school sweetheart) and I married we tried for nearly two years and when we conceived at last, I was watched rather closely considering my history. I vomited daily and up to 10 times sometimes for the first 25 weeks but had a short break during my 2nd trimester. At my 34 week check I mentioned the return of my morning sickness and some swelling, and I suspected a problem when I had to repeat my blood pressure readings after lying down for a bit.
My doc came in and asked if I had a hospital bag packed… (uhhhh NO) and told me I needed to be admitted immediately with a diagnosis of pre-eclampsia. I hysterically called my husband as I crossed from the OB offices to the L&D department at our amazing hospital facility (Avista Adventist in Louisville, CO.) After tests and 7 more days of bed rest my doctor warned me that it was time to induce. My blood pressure was too high and the protein in my urine indicated that baby and I would be better off with delivery.
The next morning I began a 12 hour induction, 3 attempts to break my water and a 10 minute stint on a labor ball that shot my blood pressure through the roof. It was an EXCRUCIATING decision to either rest for the night and try another day of induction, or go ahead and c-section that evening.
I was exhausted and unwell and so we met our sweet son later that night, 35 weeks gestation, at 5:48 PM. He was 4lb and 15 oz. and needed 5 days in the NICU to learn to eat, but I looked straight past the fact that I had major surgery, had recovery and the transition of pumping to breastfeeding to surmount- I was ecstatic to be a mom. I felt sad about losing the opportunity to deliver naturally but understood (as anyone who has watched their feet triple in size from sitting on a birthing ball would) it was best FOR US. I also knew my doctor supported VBACs and I couldn’t wait for another swing at childbirth.
Our next babe came as a surprise when my son was just 4 months old…another baby went to heaven and left me even more eager to have another chance at a “do-over”. When I got pregnant with our next baby a few months later I felt ready to conquer the world.
I knew what to look for in pre-eclampsia risks, was prepared to keep weight gain low to avoid increasing my risks and I set off into a very intense and active pregnancy. I was extremely sick with morning sickness; though less frequent, it was more debilitating. I pushed through and taught dance 5 days a week in order to keep myself in shape and ready for what lay ahead.
At 29 weeks, my parents had a crazy and traumatic move from my childhood home and into our home (we had 5 adults and 3 kids under our roof!) as they restored a house that was in a fire. I felt suddenly unwell after this stressful time and yet again at my 30 week check I was asked if I had my hospital bags packed (are you KIDDING ME). This time, my liver enzymes were elevated, only moderate protein in my urine, but my platelets were plummeting.
After only 5 days in the hospital my baby girl was delivered at 31 weeks by emergency c-section. I was just below the platelet count my doc preferred for local anesthesia, but thankfully I was able to stay awake to meet my daughter. I had no clue how sick I was at that time- I had HELLP syndrome and was put on magnesium to prevent seizure and stroke.
I recently watched a video of my daughter being born and even though I talked, and snuggled her face before they rushed her little 3lb body to the NICU, I have no memory of it. I was unable to hold her (I could barely move for a few days) until later that evening when I was wheeled in a hospital bed to her incubator.
My next 10 days were spent in the hospital to make sure my organs returned to their normal function. I was incredibly blessed to not have permanent damage from HELLP. The damage done, however, was the fact that I had to have a T-cut section in order to safely deliver my baby. She was so tiny that she disappeared under my ribs during surgery. At 31 weeks, a babies’ brain is at extremely high risk of bleeding with delivery trauma, and with my platelet count so low, my doctor was able to avoid a major vessel with the t-cut. Again, I knew this was the best FOR US, but I had now signed off my ability to ever have a vaginal birth. Needless to say, the emotional and physical recovery from my daughter’s birth is still in the making…I replay that day in my mind endlessly, wishing it could have been different, but knowing better.
You might now understand why I say you’d have to know my first two births to appreciate why I could call my delivery of my 3rd perfect.
We waited a full year before conceiving my daughter to let my super special (haha) incision heal. We saw a neonatologist alongside our wonderful and life-saving OB, just to be safe. I had extra ultrasounds, blood tests and daily blood pressure monitoring. I packed my freakin’ hospital bag at 28 weeks…waiting for the other shoe to drop. Let me just mention that, up to this point, I have peed in more cups and jugs than any person should. I have also peed on my hand more times than anyone with as much practice as me, should. Each cup held my fate…the entrance of the doc asking if I had the bag packed…and it never came.
At 36 weeks my doctor finally scheduled my surgery, and we giggled about how it was never going to happen. Each weekly check I put my bag in the car ready to bring home a baby.
The morning of December 9th was my perfect day. At 39 weeks, I had defied all odds stacked against me and was ready to meet my babe. Our nurses (we are frequent fliers at Avista…they set us up in an awesome room with welcome notes on our whiteboard…angels I tell ya!) got us ready to go- my husband and I giddy at this process of calmly dressing in scrubs, still debating the gender and weight of our baby (instead of frantically coming up with a list of names…). My anesthesiologist promised me I wouldn’t throw up (and by gosh, I never did!) when I notified him that I puked through the beginnings and endings of my last 2 surgeries. My doctor came in cheerily and we prayed as a family before I went in, snapping one more photo of my family of 4.
My perfect daughter came out with a wail at a whopping 7lbs 10 oz. She was buffed off and placed on my bare chest. Let me just say that again. My daughter came out and was placed on my chest. Not rushed away, or worriedly and hurriedly shown to me. But left there, as mine. I sob as I write this because you might not ever know what that means…the day you bring your baby into the world and it is instantly yours, from your womb to your breast…that some mommies will have to let their babies belong to tubes, and incubators and bottles and NG tubes before they become yours. But my little Mercy was mine instantly, and for almost a full half hour, before they took her with her daddy to get bathed and cared for. I had a wonderful recovery (amazing how that works when your organs aren’t failing…) and went home to enjoy what felt like a healing of 3 births.
I am devastated at the way c-sections are sometimes treated as the easy birth, the lazy delivery, the “I did my hair and nails so I look good in my pictures” birth. It is infuriating that a doctor might represent them as status quo, and not the major surgery, uphill battle to motherhood that they are. And yet, they are my reality, my necessity.
I would still give anything to have been well enough to try and deliver my son after induction, to have safely had had a bikini cut with my daughter and to try a VBA2C with my Mercy…but here I am. Thanks to my neat healing and skilled surgeon, I am still in the running for another babe, and so God-willing, we will do our normal again some day.
I have come to appreciate the hours of labor I spent to bring my babies into the world…hobbling to the NICU with a tiny syringe of colostrum, stroking my baby through a hole in an incubator and living separate from her for 35 excruciating days, pumping precious breastmilk every two hours until they learned to eat…these are the pains, the pushes where I felt I couldn’t make it another minute…this is how I became a mother.
This story is part of my Weekend Wisdom series which shares the experiences and stories of other parents. If you have your own story you’d like to share, fill out this form and I will be in touch!
