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Birth Stories
Andrew Courson
My birth story really begins back around 35 weeks. I went in for a check-up and the doctor said I was measuring small (5 cm small to be exact---anything over 4 cm and they automatically do an ultrasound to make sure everything is ok.). He also did a pelvic exam that day and said he felt the baby's head in the birth canal. So I scheduled an ultrasound for the next week and promptly went home and began doing exercises to get the baby's head engaged so it would stay in the proper position.
The following week, Brian and I went in for the ultrasound. The technician fired up the machine and promptly said "Your baby is breech". (This means that instead of being head down, his head is up underneath my ribs. This is a problem since it would mean his head---the biggest part of him--would come out last and could get stuck or could have the cord wrapped around his neck. He was frank breech, meaning both feet were up by his ears.) The technician also informed us that my amniotic fluid was a bit low. We go meet with the doctor who tells me to drink a lot, to come back in 5 days, and to think about scheduling a c-section.
Now, I was planning a natural, active birth and a c-section was absolutely the last thing I wanted. I immediately began researching turning a breech baby and started doing everything I could to get my little boy to flip around. This included light, sound, putting my feet up a wall, using cold and heat, going to a chiropractor, accupressure, and prayer. Lots and lots of prayer.
I returned to the doctor at my scheduled time and my amniotic fluid was higher---though still not as high as they would like. They told me to keep drinking a lot of fluids, which I did. I kept doing all the techniques I could to flip my baby. December 28th I woke in the middle of the night to a huge commotion in my belly. I had never felt the baby be so active. I thought he must have flipped. I kept doing a few of the techniques--concerned if he had turned, he might turn back to breech. Monday, December 31st, I went to the doctor (not my normal one this time--he was out of the office) and she thought she felt the head but couldn't be 100% certain as I was not dilated at all. I had an ultrasound scheduled for Friday, so we would find out then.
All week I prayed that the baby would be in the proper position for birth and if he wasn't that God would give me great grace. Thursday, I had some students cancel, so I had extra time. I went and got a haircut, filled the van with gas, and went shopping at Target for things I would need for when I went to the hospital to have my baby.
Friday morning, January 4th, my Mom and sister Ashley went with me to the doctor as Brian had to teach. We went in for the ultrasound and the technician's first words were "Well, he's still breech." My heart sank. I knew at that point we were talking c-section. I had looked into having a breech baby vaginally and only one doctor in Richmond appears to do that and rarely on a first baby.
I went across the hall to see the same doctor I had seen on Monday...my regular OB's father had died. She put me on a Non Stress Test---the baby was fine. He had a great heart rate and was moving just fine. I was having tons of painless contractions (which I had been having since I felt the big motion that Friday night). The doctor came in, tells me my amniotic fluid is even lower than it had been at first, and says she felt it was best to go ahead and take the baby now. This suggestion was a huge shock because at that point Brian and I had wanted to at least let labor start naturally and then go to the hospital for a c-section.
So after talking to her extensively (she had a baby boy with the exact same circumstances), crying, and talking to Brian over the phone, we decided to trust her recommendation and go ahead with the c-section that day. I rush home with Mom and Ashley to pack a few things. Brian finishes his class and meets us at our church so he can drive me to the hospital. My parents and sister followed.
We got there around 2:00 p.m. and had to register---this took about 40 minutes. I finally got to the labor and delivery room. The nurses immediately began prepping me for the surgery. My doula, Mary Jo, was able to come and be with us at this point. She helped me stay relaxed even in the rushed preparation that was going on. We also were able to look to her to give us support for decisions we had to make without research.
My delivery nurse was wonderful and helped us adjust our birth plan so that we still could have it be what we wanted as much as possible. The anesthesiologist was calm and kind. He was patient in answering my questions. They wheeled me down to the OR and had me walk into the room. I sat on the table and hug a pillow as they inserted the spinal into my back. It pinched and was cold---I began to cry, more over the fact that I was overwhelmed by the suddenness of it all than the pain. My legs began to get heavy. They laid me back on the table and began the epidural. They put the drape across me and had Brian and Mary Jo come in. The doctor kept pinching my stomach to see if the anesthetic had taken effect. "Ouch. Yes, I can feel that. And that. And that." "Ok--my chest is getting heavy."
My doctor kept popping her head over the drape to see how I was doing. Meanwhile, I carry on a conversation with my anesthesiologist. I could tell they were doing stuff to me, but I really couldn't feel a thing, not even pressure when they were pushing the baby out. I hear them sucking out all the amniotic fluid (there really wasn't very much). Then they say "Ok. Here comes the baby." Brian and the doctor said they could hear him cry before he was even out. The doctor got him all the way out and I heard his cry. I began to cry out of amazement and joy. He was all folded up like a paper clip or roast turkey.
After the nurses cleaned him and wrapped him, they gave him to Brian who brought him to me. We named him Andrew Courson Evans. He was 6 lb. 11 oz. and 19 1/2 in. long. He was born at 4:37 p.m. His apgar points were 9 and 9. He was pink and healthy and beautiful. (He also sprayed as soon as he was out. . .) As I was laying there slightly helpless, I didn't want to hold him. I wanted to wait until I could really enjoy it. They stitched me up and wheeled me back to the labor and delivery room. There I held Andrew for the first time. He was so small and precious.
I stayed in that room until I was able to slightly bend my knees, then the nurses wheeled me up to Recovery. Never having been in the hospital before--never having undergone surgery of any kind, I found it quite interesting. Having numbness from your belly button down and feeling it wear off was such a unique experience. Though the last thing I ever wanted was a c-section, it really went incredibly smoothly. The staff was all wonderful--I had no nausea or any other side effects (other than being slightly loopy). My recovery was amazing and obviously God sent. I still occasionally sigh over the fact that I didn't get to experience labor, but I know this is what was meant for me. I don't regret the c-section, and I don't feel less of a mother because of it. Everything was obviously orchestrated by God down to the smallest detail for the perfect birth for Andrew.