the OWLAC chronicles

Interesting

2009-06-23T11:56:00.002-06:00

I just Googled Vitamin D and C-sections and pages and pages of links came up talking about how a Vitamin D deficiency can lead to a c-section, due to poor muscle tone.

That likely does not apply to me and my situation that I am actually looking for answers to right now, but the part about poor muscle tone does apply as one of the problems I had that day was that my right bicep totally just gave out. It actually still hurts, over one month later.

So, maybe, just maybe I will be able to figure all this out and feel normal again, about everything!

I guess it really wasn't anything.

2009-06-23T11:42:00.003-06:00

A while ago, I wrote this post, about my weird attack thing in the gym at my sons' school. I did get my test results back, and it came back as nothing spectacular.

My EKG was normal, my urinalysis was normal and my blood was mostly normal, except that I have super low Vitamin D.

I've searched for information on what role Vitamin D really plays in the human body, and it is more of a low-key thing that doesn't seem to jive with the whole breathing/numbing/nausea/dizzy thing that happened to me. It plays more of a disease-prevention role.

So, I'm glad they found something, but I'm not sure it explains anything.

Harder than I thought

2009-06-16T21:11:00.002-06:00

Well, I have started to look into uterine arteries and what they do and how they are and how they function and change, as I said I would do in this post.

I can't find a single thing documented on the internet that talks about uterine arteries spreading out or branching off, as mine appeared to do when looked at at my last anatomy ultrasound. I've found a lot about fibroids and potential treatment for them using the uterine arteries, but I haven't found much past that. And that isn't helpful to me at all.

I'll have to keep thinking about it (or stop thinking about it) and revisit it when I have more time to ponder.

An aside, today is the day that I originally wanted Claire to be born; her true due date was to be tomorrow (one year ago). It's funny to me how easily I am swayed away from what I really want.

Dreams

2009-06-15T00:42:00.002-06:00

Last night I dreamed that I went to the hospital and checked in for a c-section. I went to a place that was like triage, but a little more comfortable, and nurses came to get me set up and ready for my surgery.

The weird thing...

I wasn't pregnant.

When I asked about this, everyone was confused and I ended up waiting around forever while the nurses looked for the doctor to ask why I had been booked in for a c-section when there wasn't a baby to deliver.

I'm pretty sure the doctor got back to the nurses and said that we were going on with the surgery.

I woke up before I found out what happened next, and I woke up really confused.

I wasn't scared or nervous at any point during my dream; always calm and collected and just waiting waiting waiting to see what would happen next.

It was so very strange, and I can't even begin to analyze what it might have meant.

I was thinking...

2009-06-05T19:41:00.002-06:00

When I was having my hundred ultrasounds while pregnant with Claire, one of the ultrasound techs (and also the dr. in the office) found that my uterine arteries were all weird and re-routed. The doctor and I assumed that it must have been a result of the repeated sections. He said he'd never seen that before.

I wonder if that has anything to do with my right abdominal cavity filling with blood from an unknown source during my surgery.

I wonder if there was something during my surgery for Andrew's birth that messed that area up. I was having weird pains after his section for a very long time (diagnosed as a hernia by one dr. and nerve damage by another dr.).

I should do some research into this...where exactly is the uterus cut and what are the arteries supposed to look like? AND, of course, does the cut usually avoid the arteries??

Interesting.

I know I should just let it go.

But I'm not like that.

I need to know. I need to wonder. I need to speculate.

A different way of thinking

2009-06-04T23:22:00.003-06:00

The other day, Jon and I decided that it is time to get our oldest son, Daniel, out of the room that all the kids share and into a place that he is free to stay up as late as he wants (because he does that).

So, Jon took apart one set of bunkbeds and moved one bed to a different room. He turned the remaining bed into a toddler-bed of sorts (with a rail) for Claire.

Having one set of bunk beds (tall) and one lonely bed (short) really threw off the feel of the bedroom and I had to move the furniture around until it felt right to me (I am so weird about how furniture is placed in a room...it's ridiculous).

Anyway, I was moving Claire's bed into place and I stepped on a book that had been left on the floor, but was under the bed where I couldn't see it. I was pushing the bed with all my might and slipped, falling forward over the footboard of the bed and landing face-first on the clothing containers that were on top of the bed for the move. For some reason, I was unable to get my hands free and catch myself, and I suffered a bit for it.

I bumped my face (on the container, but with my glasses sandwiched between me and the plastic), and I scraped my arm a little. The thing that concerned me the most was that I landed with my c-section incision scar line right on the footboard of the bed. It hurt a lot.

For the next few minutes I stood there pushing on my scar, wondering if it was weak and if I had caused any trauma relative to another cutting open. I wondered about internal bleeding and about bruising and swelling.

After I got over the initial shock of what had happened (and the embarrassment...good thing I was alone in there; I felt pretty dumb as it was!), I decided that all was fine, and if anything, I had just done myself a service by breaking up scar tissue that is likely still building up daily in that area.

I bet that not many other mommies, especially non-section mommies, would even consider old scar tissue in their abdomen when falling over the footboard of their child's bed. LOL

What was that?

2009-06-01T21:10:00.003-06:00

This past Saturday, my baby girl turned one.

It was a tough day for me. First of all I had a migraine, it was hot, Daniel needed me to take him to a birthday party, and hubby had to work (which meant I had to take all four kiddos into Chuck E. Cheese, and then back out of CEC as quickly as possible, twice).

On the way home from the birthday party, I noticed the clock in the van, 2:19 pm. After choking back tears (or letting them fall) for six minutes, I was finally able to say to the boys, "One year ago, Claire was just 10 minutes old."

While they thought that was cool, they didn't really make a big deal of it, and quickly went back to whatever they were doing before I interrupted them (something Star Wars related, I'm sure). I, on the other hand, started remembering what happened that day...the surgery, the complications, the waiting beforehand, and the waiting afterwards.

Later, at home, I said to Jon, "One year ago, Claire was just 45 minutes old," and his response was different from the boys', but made me think some more.

"Yes, and you hadn't met her yet."

That response hurt me. I don't know why. It was like a punch, a pinch, a kick, a twinge...I don't know if I was remembering the fear, the pain, the panic in the dr's voices or pondering the "what ifs" and things that could have happened that day.

I asked, "Really? Not yet?"

"No, you were out for quite awhile."

The things that stick out the most in my memory when I remember Claire's birth are not her first cry, or Jon gently holding my hand like he did for all the others. I don't remember anyone shouting, "It's a girl!" or placing her on my chest. We have ZERO pictures from inside the operating room.

While I do vaguely remember Jon bringing Claire up near my face, he didn't get close enough for me to really see her, kiss her, or rub her cheek, like I had with all the others. I remember the nurses urgently (though trying to say it non-urgently) sending Jon and Claire to the nursery and out of the OR. For each of my others, Jon and my babe stayed with me until we all headed to recovery, then went to the nursery while I waited for a room.

One of the things that stick out the most in my memory of Claire's birth is the nurse in the recovery room gently stroking my arm and saying, "Breathe, breathe. Keep breathing." That is what I woke up to. I remember that I was so tired, it was hard to keep breathing. I didn't really want to use the effort I needed to take that breath.

I wish I could know exactly what happened. Down to the finest detail...what did my body do? What did it feel? Why did it react the way it did, and what was the reaction to?

All my c-section report discloses is that my right abdominal cavity filled with blood and they cleaned it out, but found nothing bleeding.

Another thing that sticks out in my memory is the leg-compressor thingies that they put on my legs to reduce the chance of blood clots. I love those things. I think they stayed on me for a whole day longer than they had to. I had no intention of asking the nurse to remove them. LOL I wish I could get some for home!

When all is said and done, this birth, like the others did not deter my heart from wanting more children. I would do it all again in a minute if I could have the same outcome (my sweet, healthy children!), and I've said that after each one of my kids was born. C-sections have been "no big deal" to me and I think I am having trouble processing this birth as a "big deal" something. My brain is confused about it - I had talked myself through the process many times and I was ready, and I wasn't scared.

I guess I wasn't ready for the surprise of a break in routine, and that has placed a little scar in my head and on my heart now, because as much as I want to know what went wrong, I'll never ever know.

Somehow I have to come to peace with that.

Well, it's final.

2009-05-27T16:20:00.003-06:00

Today my DH got the call from his vasectomy doctor. The sample came back all clear, and there will not be anymore babies in our future (well, until our KIDS start having babies, which won't be for many many years!).

I have to admit that though I thought I was finally excited to be finished at four, this news did not have me jumping for joy. I had a little feeling like I was kicked in the stomach. It wasn't a surprise, but still...

Now I just continue to focus on the future and live my life as a mama to four. It is wonderful, we have been so blessed with four healthy and happy (for the most part) children. I LOVE that we have three boys, then one girl. I totally would not have it any other way. God knows what I need (and that is to have our baby girl after three boys! I am such a boy mom!).

I am really enjoying passing on clothes as Claire outgrows them. I don't need to store it for later, no 'just in case' situations. I have four bags of clothing sitting in our hallway right now, just waiting to be passed on to Claire's younger cousin.

I have one bag waiting to be passed on to my friends' baby son too.

I parted with the bassinet that held each of my children through their first few weeks or months. That was the hardest one to take out of our home, but I did it, and now I know I can do anything.

The swing is gone, the cribset is packed up (complete with mobile), the carseat bunting is in a box.

We've passed on the activity playmat, the bouncy chair that Daniel and Daddy brought home for a brand new little Josh, and a bunch of little rattley toys that we had accumulated way too many of over the years.

Next will be the jolly jumper, baby blankets, the exersaucer and the play yard.

It hurts my heart to see all this written out in words, but this way I can move on. I can let it go. It is just stuff...I still have the kids (I almost wrote babies there) and I still have the memories.

So, here's to me, having successfully moved through the childbearing phase healthy and well, despite my 5 abdominal surgeries in less than 6 years. And here's to the next stage - functioning as a complete family that is growing and changing everyday. There are so so many things we can do now that Mommy will not be pregnant or toting a newborn along!

There's something to this...

2009-05-21T21:37:00.002-06:00

Last Thursday night I was sitting in the gym at my boys' school, waiting for Daniel's concert to begin. I was with 3 of my kids and my parents-in-law when all of a sudden I had trouble breathing. My arms and legs went numb and I started feeling dizzy and sick to my stomach.

I had to get up and walk around, visit the bathroom a few times and shake out my arms and legs a bit. Everything got better except for the breathing. My mother-in-law and a few of my friends said that it sounded like I was having a panic attack. I appreciate that they were trying to be helpful, but I wasn't feeling panicked. I wasn't feeling threatened or nervous or even the teeniest bit upset (well, not until I couldn't breathe...that stressed me a bit).

The next morning I sat in my doctor's waiting room for 2.5 hours waiting to see her. And I thought about why I was there a lot, because for some reason I had forgotten to bring something to read. I realized that everything that I had felt the night before was pretty much exactly the same as what I went through on the table in the operating room during my last c-section. It was exactly the reason that the doctor doing the surgery had advised me to have no more children.

During the surgery it happened and they couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. They thought maybe a blood clot, but couldn't find anything. This was vaguely mentioned in my c-section report.

And what happened at my doctor's appointment? Well, she couldn't figure out what was wrong either. She listened to my lungs and heart and said it all sounded perfect. She asked if I was stressed, tired or depressed. No more than usual. I think she should have at least taken my blood pressure (I had checked it at Safeway the night before and it was slightly elevated). I left the office with a lab requisition sheet to check my blood for 14 things, urinalysis, and an EKG. I went in for those tests on Saturday morning, and still have not heard anything back.

While it does make sense that it could be a panic attack, in both cases (one due to surgery, the other due to a crowded gymnasium), I have to say that if it was, it was fully triggered subconsciously. I don't know if that makes sense, but what I'm trying to say is that in both cases, I was calm, cool and collected. I wasn't stressed. That is what makes me think this is something more.

I don't know what I think it is, though. I don't want to think about that stuff.

I am sitting on the line of wanting them to find something wrong with me in the testing so that there are answers; and not wanting them to find anything wrong, so I can continue to be my normal, healthy self.

Unfortunately, I don't feel like my normal, healthy self. I still can't get a full breath most of the time. And that makes me tired.

I hope I get some answers soon.

Moving on

2009-05-06T21:10:00.002-06:00

While I openly don't hate c-sections, I do have to say that I hate that my having them has caused me to have to stop having children.

Not that I would definitely have more children if the doctor hadn't said I had to stop. I just hate that the decision has been taken away from me and my hubby. Stolen, if you will.

This is one of the main reasons that I started this blog; to process these feelings in writing; in words. Writing is the way I deal with life, and this part of life is no different.

However, it is harder to write about this. I feel like I have NO right to whine, complain, cry out, feel crummy, be flat out mad about not having any more children. I have four already. Four in just under six years. I love them dearly. They are healthy, happy (for the most part), smart, eager and energetic children. Many people struggle with infertility. Many people cannot even conceive one child. Why should I long for more when there are others out there who long for just one quarter of what I have - when what I have is a dream to them?

Well, I can't help it. I can't help the way I feel.

My heart breaks for those who struggle with infertility. I used to pray that God would take some of my fertility and bless someone else with it; that couples who had been trying for so long would finally have the sweet relief of a pregnancy and a healthy baby born at 40 weeks gestation.

I prayed that my hubby and I would, for once, not conceive so easily, so that I would somehow know the pain and heartache that others went through in waiting month after month, hoping, praying and just putting everything they have into seeing those two little lines on a tiny little stick.

I think that that prayer was answered in conceiving our daughter. It took us 13 times as long as any of our others had taken. It seemed like an eternity to me - impatient as I am - when it was really just the start of what others have to endure in their quest for a child.

I realize this. I realize that I have no idea the pain, the heartache, the shattered hopes and dreams that others face.

But still, I long.

I've been praying that God would take away my longing for another child. I've been focusing on the exciting times ahead, as a completed family of six. I've been imagining entering and exiting our van with ease, and with kids who can all fasten their own seatbelts. I've been giving away clothes and baby items as Claire outgrows them, and I've been rejoicing in the extra space that creates.

I think it is working.

I don't see new babies and run the other way anymore. I can hold a newborn and not feel sick to my stomach. I am happy to hear news of pregnancies (well, with a teeny bit of envy and nostalgia mixed in). I am finally starting to grasp the finality of my hubby's vasectomy. I am finally letting go of placing hope in the chances that maybe, just maybe it didn't take. And SOMETIMES I am even able to see a friend going through the new baby stuff - sleepless nights, painful breastfeeding, all the disruption that comes with adding a new family member - and be glad that it is not me.

I do still have my moments of weakness though. Driving past the office where I had my last ultrasound feels like a kick in the stomach. And seeing the hospital where Claire was delivered leaves me with a heavy heart.

But there is so much still to come! So many firsts still to be had. My kids are all so different - each of their firsts are not the same as their older sibling's firsts. It's not boring. It's not mundane. Every day is new and exciting for me, even if it does not include pregnancy or childbirth.

I've been entertaining some thoughts of the future, reassuring myself that just because I will not birth anymore children, it doesn't mean that others won't. Fostering or adoption could be an option far into the future. Or, a reminder that one of the reasons I started my family so young was so that I could have my career later in life - schooling and all, as my children grew up and became more independent. Perhaps one day I'll be a labour and delivery nurse in a hospital. If I can find time, maybe I can volunteer at a local pregnancy care center.

There is still so much to come, and so much possibility ahead. And looking toward those things will help me to move on from my sorrow, hopefully to joy.

A little tiny beep can go a long way sometimes...

2009-04-29T21:51:00.004-06:00

Well, for the first time ever, I think I may have been a touch traumatized by my last section.

Today, for some reason, A Baby Story was on my TV. I have been avoiding that show since Claire was born. I just can't watch without tears.

Today, though, it was all okay. There was a lady who had a tough birth with her first baby and wanted a natural, water birth for her second. She did it! And the next episode I wasn't really watching, but I looked up in time to see her making the long walk to the OR. The walk where she has a "blanket from the warmer" wrapped around her shoulders and an IV in her hand.

They showed the OR scene and I heard the beeping of the heart monitor on the show and that took me RIGHT back to Claire's birth - not in memory, but in feeling. I felt MY heart start to beat faster. I felt short of breath, and there was a flutter of panic in my chest. I felt how cold the OR was.

It was weird and I was transfixed. I didn't look away until that baby was out and crying!

The way I feel

2009-04-24T16:41:00.005-06:00

I don't hate c-sections. I am not upset that I had all my babies by c-section. I don't feel ripped off or gypped that I didn't get the whole "natural birth experience". I (obviously) have wondered about it before though, if it was possible, if I could do it.

I know a lot of people feel that they were ripped off, though, and that is why there are organizations like ICAN. That is why there are people who are seeking doctors and midwives in earnest who will support them in their VBAC or VBAMC (vaginal birth after multiple cesareans) attempt.

There are people who suffer from PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) over the urgency and rush of the surgery. There are people who sink into a deep depression over the loss of their vision of "the perfect, vaginal delivery". There are people who want a shot at an easy recovery after the birth of their child.

I've been lucky to not have those feelings. Sure I've had my moments of wondering what a non-surgical birth is like. And I've had passing thoughts of my body failing me. I've been jealous over the six-hour labours and deliveries of others. But overall, really, every c-section was MY choice. My body didn't fail me, my mind failed me; my confidence failed me. My body did a phenomenal job of repairing itself each and every time. Even after being cut four times in the same spot, it still didn't give up on that repair. That is amazing. Four times in six years.

When I was pregnant with Andrew and researching and deciding to go for a VBA2C, a friend asked me WHY I wanted to have a vaginal birth so bad. She mentioned that giving birth was not an easy-peasy process like a c-section. More than one of my friends confessed that they had been torn apart "down there" when their babies had crowned. When I explained what a c-section means, in terms of the surgery and recovery, they seemed to agree that vaginal delivery was a more desirable process, after all.

I do think that it is unfortunate that I had all my babies by c-section because I do love a large family and the repeat surgeries cut me off. I thought four would be a large family, but it doesn't seem so, and my heart still dreams of more.

I kind of always expected a surprise baby #5, but now I know that won't happen. I'm learning to let go of that. I'm thinking that perhaps one day fostering or adoption may be an option for us. My boys have brought it up to me already (at ages 6 and 5!) and they've said they'd love to have another little baby girl join our family.

I would love that too.

We'll just have to see how the future plays out. Who knows what will come to us...

C-section #4 - Claire - May 2008

2009-04-23T16:42:00.006-06:00

We tried for over a year to get pregnant with Claire. It was a little bit frustrating because I had fallen pregnant so easily with each of my boys, but I tried to be patient. I was, indeed, praying for a daughter, mostly for Daniel's sake. He was praying so hard to have a sister...and had been for so long. I knew that the news of another boy would make him sad until he got used to the idea.

I had wished in the past that others 'out there', who were struggling with infertility could take some of my fertility and create and carry their own child for a healthy nine months.

I was also trying a few 'swaying' methods to sway for a girl baby as we tried to conceive our fourth child. These methods made it harder for my body to get pregnant.

Overall, the thing that was most important to me was a healthy baby. I had always wanted four children (until I was pregnant with number four and started thinking how nice six would be...), and I hoped to have them all before my thirtieth birthday.

I got my positive pregnancy test four days after my 29th birthday.

My fourth pregnancy was SO different than my others were. Not really in how it affected me, but the circumstances surrounding my life made it different.

I had three other children - one in kindergarten, one in preschool; two in soccer and all three in swimming. I had dayhome kids. I had my driver's license. At least one person in our household was ill at all times between November and April, and that did not include my morning sickness in October. My grandmother became very ill and passed away at the end of April.

I didn't have time for doctors appointments or labwork. I went for months between dr. appointments and I skipped my gestational diabetes testing.

I was so small with Claire. I wore my normal clothes until I was more than 20 weeks along. This was strange because she measured much larger than she should have been. At my 12 week ultrasound, she was already measuring 13 weeks 3 days. It was impossible by my charts, but that is what the doctors decided to go with.

I was diagnosed with low PAPP-A at my 12 week blood testing, and was told that my baby had a higher risk of IUGR (intrauterine growth restriction, aka small baby), and that I had a higher risk of having high blood pressure at the end of my pregnancy. It turned out to be nothing at all (obviously, with Claire already measuring ahead at 12 weeks), and after six monitoring ultrasounds, they discontinued monitoring for IUGR.

When I was 18 weeks along, we found out that we were going to have a baby girl. I couldn't really believe it; couldn't even imagine it. But after a few more ultrasounds, it started to sink in. We kept the gender a secret for 11 weeks before we told our boys.

So yes, the pregnancy was different. It was to be our last planned pregnancy, and I wanted to just absorb every second of it. To be in tune with my baby, to love every moment, to wrap myself in the wonder of growing a new little life inside, ONE MORE TIME.

With everything going on though, it was hard. I was tired. I was terrified that something would go wrong and I would lose my precious cargo; my only daughter.

I wanted to go into labour on my own, then go in for the section, but that wasn't even an option with the doctors thinking I was one week further along than I really was.

And with Daniel sad that I might miss his school concert, Josh concerned I might miss his preschool graduation, hubby fed up with work and truly ready for a vacation, my parents dealing with the deaths of their parents and flying in and out of the province, and my in-laws working full time, I did it again.

I scheduled the section, and I did it WAY too early.

By my count, Claire was born at 37 weeks and 4 days gestation. She was a good size - 7 lbs 9oz, but she did drop to 6lbs 15oz, and had a case of jaundice that almost required us to return to the hospital.

And my c-section, well, something went horribly wrong.

I had talked myself through the procedure, I had prayed that all would go well. I walked into that operating room confident and calm and ready. I knew what was to come...I had done it three times before, and it was always the same thing.

Except this time.

First of all, they could not get Claire out. They ended up using a vacuum which they accidentally attached first over her left eye and nose. They realized their mistake, released it and tried again, attaching it to the back of her head to pull her out.

After Claire was out, my body went into some sort of shut-down mode. Hubby was holding my sweet baby girl by my face, but I couldn't see her. I couldn't focus on her. I started gagging and dry-heaving. I needed to vomit. I couldn't breathe. The nurses sent Jon and Claire out of the OR. My blood pressure was dropping fast, and I think I might have passed out. I don't really remember.

I do remember that I was praying earnestly for God to keep me and Claire safe, healthy, to help us through this, for us to be okay.

The doctor and nurses didn't know what was up. I heard them mention "blood clot" as they worked, but I didn't hear anything else. They didn't tell me, and they didn't write it in the c-section report that I later got from my doctor. They DID tell me (and my husband) not to do this again. They said it urgently, and forcefully, once in the operating room, and once in the hallway outside.

I woke up in the recovery room to the nurse urging me to keep breathing, to remember to take a breath. It was hard to. I was tired.

I didn't get to see Claire until I had been transferred to my room. I was so scared that something bad had happened.

Claire was okay. She had a huge hematoma on the back of her head from the vacuum. She was swollen and bruised and scratched from her entry into the world. But she was okay.

And I was okay. My incision healed wonderfully. I was able to pee and pass gas. The doctor stopped by on my second day and was amazed at how great I looked and offered for me to go home early (I declined and opted to stay the full 72 hours...I actually had a private room this time!). My weight dropped off. And I felt the best that I had EVER felt after a c-section. My first week was amazing. We were even out taking Claire to the doctor and clinic to have her bilirubin checked and I felt fine.

When Claire was seven days old, though, I hit a stumbling block. It was time for my first post-partum bowel movement. It was a horrible, 10 hour labour of pushing out stuff that was not willing to leave my body, but at the same time needed to get out. I took pain killers, was in and out of the shower, on the toilet and passed out on the bed. I now consider it "the labour I never had." And instead of being grateful that I never had that labour...I wish that I'd have gone through it to actually birth a baby, rather than what it really was for; dropping a week's worth of leftovers into the toilet and flushing it away.

After that day, I realized that I could have done it, if I had only tried that first or second time.

Claire is almost 11 months old now and I feel fantastic. I am below my pre-pregnancy weight and I feel like I look and feel great. If it wasn't for that little blip in the surgery, I'd wish even more that I could go on having more babies this way forever.

However, due to the stern warnings from the doctor and nurses, my sweet hubby had a vasectomy in January. There will be no more babies for us, and while that thought stings a little, I am slowly working past it and trying to look on the bright side of having a beautiful, healthy family that has a big, fun future ahead of us!

C-section #3 - Andrew - January 2006

2009-04-22T14:40:00.004-06:00

My third pregnancy was much like my first two...uneventful health-wise, but life-wise, well, we had big changes. During my third pregnancy, we moved to a small village 5 hours from "home" only to move back after things didn't work out. Hubby had serious health problems there and could no longer perform the job we had relocated for him to do. We lasted only 10 weeks there, then returned to the city where our families were.

My medical care during my third pregnancy was infrequent and irregular. I saw many different doctors due to the move and consulted with at least two different midwives. I almost didn't have a doctor when I returned to the city.

But one thing stayed constant throughout the pregnancy...I was going to try for a VBA2C (vaginal birth after 2 cesareans).

The medical professionals I saw never doubted me, and assured me I could do it. My hubby was uneasy about the idea. My mother and mother in law thought I was crazy. My nurse friend told me not to do it.

At 39 weeks, 2 days, I went to my prenatal appointment and was feeling downright crummy. I had a cough so bad that I was sure I had broken a rib from it. My belly was numb and achy where the baby was pushing so hard with his feet. I wanted to be done, so I allowed the doctor to strip my membranes. It worked, and the next day I was in labour.

The beginning stages of my labour with Andrew included him not moving around at all. For more than two hours I layed in my bed, drinking orange juice, Coke, anything cold I could to count his movements. He didn't move. I had recently been reading about a baby that was born still after being carried to full term. And that scared me. Off to the hospital we went.

The monitors there showed contractions that I could not feel, and in less than 15 minutes, Andrew had registered 10 movements on the printout. I felt really silly. The nurses took my blood pressure too, and found that it was very high, but they were busy and probably assumed they'd see me later, so they sent me home with orders to relax.

Hubby and I got some dinner and watched some movies and relaxed all we could. I started actually FEELING the contractions around midnight, hung out on the computer, walked around, drank some water, dealt with nausea, and tried to sleep again. I couldn't get through contractions without rocking on my hands and knees, so sleep was out. Eventually I had a pounding headache (not good when you're concerned about blood pressure) and I started to have bad feelings about my c-section scar and un-tested uterus. Around 6:00 am, we headed to the hospital.

We registered, and I was checked. 2-3 cm and 90% effaced. Back then my heart dropped at that news, but a few weeks ago I was re-reading my birth stories and I kicked myself for going in so early, and for deciding on the section. 2-3 cm might seem small, but 90% effaced is not small. That is some good work that my body had done. Hindsight is 20/20, they say...

I told the nurses that I was planning to have a VBA2C and was met with "WHAT doctor would ALLOW that?" and "Wow, that is NOT okay. That's not safe!" With them leaning on me to go the section route, and hubby freaked out at the idea of me pushing out a baby...

I asked for a c-section.

:(

Looking back now I am filled with regret. Not that I went for the section, but that I wasn't a better advocate for myself and my desires. The dr. in question is the one who was on call that night. I could have called him to back me up on the decision that we made together, and that we had both researched.

But I was unsure, unsupported, and concerned. I was anxious to hold my sweet new baby. I was excited to be a mommy again. And I knew that a c-section would bring me there much more quickly and MAYBE more safely (who will ever know?).

My baby boy #3 was born at 7:55 am, weighing 8lbs 6oz. The procedure went smoothly.

My hospital stay was not the best. Andrew didn't like to sleep. My milk wasn't in. He was hungry. He lost almost 10% of his body weight. I didn't sleep at all in my whole 72+ hour stay. They brought in the lactation consultant to lecture me. They brought in my dr. to lecture me about getting a catheter to empty out my bladder (which would not empty on it's own). Andrew wasn't peeing or pooping enough either. My roommate was up all night long talking on her cell phone. I felt like a failure...couldn't birth my baby, couldn't feed my baby, couldn't pee on my own. I cried through my whole lactation consultant's speech and she called a psychiatrist to come speak to me.

I just wanted to go home and do things my way.

I did get to go home after my 72 hours, but it took a little reminding of the nurses. It took more than 3 hours after the dr. discharged me for them to give me the papers and let me go.

Home was bliss. We had so much help, family, church love, everything all around us. Andrew had trouble regulating his body temperature for the first few days, and dealt with some reflux, but was fine by the time he hit 6 months old.

My incision healed well, but it took me a long time to feel normal again. I visited my doctor to ask about a bump I'd found...he diagnosed it as a hernia. I went for a second opinion somewhere else...she diagnosed it as nerve damage and gave me a prescription for some anti-depressants (I took one, hated the side effects, and then never took them again).

It took me a full 16 months to lose all of my baby weight, even though I breastfed exclusively for 6 months, and supplemented for another 2 months after that.

My third c-section was the hardest to recover from. I like to attribute that hard recovery to the fact that I actually laboured beforehand. My first section was tough to bounce back from and had me in the hospital for 6 days following, and that was also a section after labour. Maybe I was never meant to labour and deliver a baby vaginally. Maybe.

C-section #2 - Joshua - October 2003

2009-04-01T23:25:00.004-06:00

Surprise! We became pregnant again when Daniel was just about seven months old.

The internet said that women should wait 18 months between c-sections to successfully carry their next baby to term. And to be successful at VBACs too.

Shoot.

I still went into the pregnancy planning a vaginal delivery. I went to my doctor for pregnancy confirmation and she commented that since my first was over 9 pounds, maybe my second would be 12 pounds (ha ha).

I didn't care (I also didn't go back to that doctor).

My obstetrician was on board for a VBAC. Unfortunately, she was part of a group of OBs and some of the others started planting the seeds of "youcan'tdoit" into my head as I rotated through them.

I didn't do enough research.

I was still in shock that I was pregnant again so soon.

My hubby lost his job and we decided to move "home" (1300 km) to be closer to the grandparents.

Our move date was one week after my estimated due date.

And at 38 weeks, it all piled up on top of me, I opened my eyes and thought, "Wow, I can't do this." And I scheduled a c-section to deliver my second son.

Josh was born at 39 weeks, 3 days gestation; a healthy 8 pounds 7 ounces and 20.75 inches long.

They used forceps to get him out, despite the large cut in my belly. The doctor commented that it was a "good thing we did the section" because my "uterus was extremely thin" with my big boy in there.

I figure a muscle stretched over 1000 times it's regular size is gonna look thin no matter what.

My recovery was fantastic, except for the intense gas pains I had. I got to go home on schedule though, baby born on Thursday, home on Sunday morning. My incision healed great!

When Josh was 11 days old, we flew across the country to our new home.

Josh had low blood sugar at birth and therefore "needed formula" just like Daniel did. However, he LOVED to nurse, and was nursed and supplemented with formula for the first three months of his life, until it was just too draining with all the ailments that were piling up on me.

The pregnancy weight fell off me in less than two weeks. I had gall bladder attacks and constipation. It wasn't so much fun.

Years later I would kick myself for being a coward and scheduling the section. How awful would it have been to just stay in a hotel if our rental lease was up? I shouldn't have listened to the OB who said, "Your hips are very petite...the baby might not fit through." or worried that since my first babe was big, my second one would be big too. Maybe we shouldn't have planned that move. But we were trying to beat the snow...always my nemesis.

When Josh was 10 months old, I had my gall bladder removed. The surgeon recommended that I have it removed if I planned on having more children. I did, so I did.

C-section #1 - Daniel - June 2002

2009-03-30T17:42:00.004-06:00

Here's how it all began...

I was expecting my first baby, thrilled with life and very excited that I finally got to be a mommy. My sweet hubby and I attended our prenatal classes religiously. We learned so much about labour and delivery. We giggled through the relaxation stuff. We skimmed through the c-section stuff. I figured that it wouldn't happen to me.

I was so wrong.

At my 40 week appointment, my blood pressure was 150/100 and the doctor was not pleased. My cervix was already starting to dilate and my baby was low. The doctor guessed he was about 8 lbs. The doctor stripped my membranes (aka rimming the cervix), and sent me to the hospital to be induced.

In 29 hours, my sweet baby boy would be in my arms, but first we had to go through labour, walking, syntocin, epidural, cervix checks, mean nurses and stranger doctors and interns performing procedures. We had to refrain from eating, drag iv poles with us to the bathroom, puke at transition and stay in bed on the left side, right side, left side for hours. We had to try to get some rest for the big job ahead.

Eventually, my cervix dilated to 9.5 centimeters. But there was a tiny bit of 'lip' that just wouldn't budge. I tried pushing anyway, to no avail. After resting up for a couple more hours, more pushing, and too much swelling, the doctors recommended the surgery.

I cried. Jon cried. We prayed.

The doctor assured us that once a section DOES NOT mean always a section, and that I could have a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) next time.

We consented and signed the papers. We gathered my stuff and put it in a bag. We headed off to the OR.

I had an epidural already in place, so spinal freezing was not needed.

Everything went smoothly, and Daniel was born...9 pounds 7 ounces 20.5 inches. The next morning, I asked my hubby when we could do it all again. We were blissfully happy.

I was in the hospital with high blood pressure for a whole week after the birth. We had problems with breastfeeding (and gave up after less than 2 weeks). However, my incision healed up nicely, and fairly quickly.

I didn't regret my decision until years later, when I realized just how uninformed and weak I went into the whole birthing thing. And unfortunately, as time goes on, I hear little whispers of "whydidn'tI" more and more often.

That is what this blog is about. To think "on paper" and to enlighten others. To be a person that others can identify with, and share their stories and thoughts and experiences. To process my thoughts and work through them without boring my friends and family with my "whatif"s and "whydidn'tI"s.

Looking at it from where I am now...I see my mistake. I see a scared and excited 23 year old GIRL wandering the hospital halls in barely any pain at all. I see a nurse offering an epidural way too early and the girl accepting, afraid of the pain that was supposedly to come. I believe THAT is where my journey to four c-sections began.

Of course, I also wish that I had done some walking, showering and eating before checking into the hospital that day. I wish that I had gone home to regroup my thoughts instead of running blindly, straight to the hospital from the doctor's office.

The thing is, you never get a second try on this kind of thing.

On With Life After Cesarean

2009-03-30T17:08:00.002-06:00

This is my new blog about c-sections. Life after a c-section. Life after c-sectionS. I've had four.

During my fourth, the doctor told me that I could not have any more children. It's been a struggle to come to terms with that.

Today marks 10 months since that day. Right now it is exactly 10 months and two hours and 53 minutes since then...