A Birth Story: Grey's // Greenville, SC Birth Photography // Lifestyle Photography
Birth trauma is real.
When I went into labor with my first son, I didn’t think I’d be listed among the women who experienced a traumatic birth. By August 2, 2015 my name was added to their ranks.
Since that time I’ve learned SO much about the process of birthing, and I can recognize the signs that led to the experience being less than ideal.
I didn’t adequately prepare my heart and mind
I was anxious, and didn’t know how to control my extreme anxiety
I tried to force myself to go into labor before my body was ready
I allowed the “what if’s” to dictate my thought process
I assumed that natural birth would be easy and wouldn’t need much prep (I’d seen women just rock home birth and thought I would easily do the same).
Unfortunately, after being transferred to a hospital early in labor, things went down hill quickly. I won’t go into detail, but by the end of my labor I was scarred, both mentally and physically.
And I never, NEVER wanted to give birth again.
Fast-forward 2.5 years. We’d moved from the Netherlands to the US. We were pregnant with our rainbow baby (a baby after a loss): another boy. I wasn’t scared- I was determined. Determined not to go through the same experience that I had with my first. Determined to be prepared for the (what I assumed was normal) 7 month physical recovery period, never mind mental recovery. Determined to be in control and to be heard. And DETERMINED not to experience the amount of pain I had experienced before.
With the birth of Grey I chose to deliver in a hospital, with an epidural.
I was completely positive that it was what I wanted, and totally sure that it was the best path for our family.
But let me back up: Braxton Hicks contractions are the sporadic contraction and relaxation of the uterine muscle. They are believed to start very early - around 6 weeks - but generally can’t be felt until later in pregnancy, usually nearer the end. However, I was one of those lucky women who felt them from around 13 weeks on. By 32 weeks they were a regular and timeable part of my day. After being monitored a few times to be sure that my body wasn’t trying to send me into early labor, my midwives and I determined that I was just very aware of my body.
One afternoon when I was around 36 weeks, I was sitting on the front porch of our house watching my husband and our two-year-old rake leaves and play together. My son spotted a friend in the yard next door, a yard I couldn’t see from where I was sitting, and took off running toward him. This friend had a large pit bull in the fence, and my son ran straight to the dog happily. The next moments are a blur- my husband yelling frantically and sprinting to the yard my son had just disappeared into, my son’s terrified screams, and my own heart roaring. I jumped off the porch without a thought and began to run toward them, but in the process slipped and fell right on my large belly and the sweet babe inside.
The fall didn’t phase me in the moment- adrenaline had spiked to a point of erasing all thought except for the laser focus on reaching my son. When I finally reached the area, my husband was standing in the yard holding our quietly sobbing son while the dog happily stood by wagging his tail. As soon as my husband saw my face he quickly reassured me that what had looked like an attack-in-process was actually a happy, huge pup tackling and pinning our small boy, hoping he’d wrestle back.
It took about 30 minutes before I realized I should probably address the fact that I had fallen. My husband and I decided to just play it safe and I drove myself to the hospital to be monitored for a couple of hours. Up until I started driving I felt no pain. The adrenaline had put feeling pain in the backseat, and I was still coming down off of the massive spike. By the time I reached the hospital though, painful contractions were rolling on top of one other. What started as a 4-hour monitoring session ended as an overnight stay and fluids being given to try and slow the unproductive, angry uterus contractions.
From that point until the moment of birth, I was sore and had contractions daily. By 40 weeks I was VERY ready to be done with the daily contractions. On April 10th, one day after my due date, my husband and I decided to take our son on a drive through the mountains. By the time we returned that evening I had begun feeling the early labor sensations: cramping, slight nausea, general discomfort, and timeable contractions. I went to sleep hopeful that I would be awakened to labor starting in the night, only to get up the next morning having no contractions. Around 4 pm on the 12th, the contractions became timeable again, and around 6 pm I made the decision that I wanted to deliver even if it meant an induction. My sister came over to be with my son, my mom and husband made their way to me, and we headed to the hospital.
When we arrived I was put into a triage room. Around 9pm I was checked and declared to be 3cm and 90% effaced. Being much more in tune with my body at this point, I knew that I would be in active labor very soon if given a push. I decided to ask for Pitocin and an epidural- I was READY to have my son in my arms, and was determined that this birth would be as different from my first as possible. I was confident, in control, and excited. Thirty minutes later we were in our delivery room. I was being hooked to machines, signing paperwork, and getting ready to receive the epidural. When the anesthesiologist put the needle in my back for the epidural, he slipped slightly and punctured the ligament to the right of my spine. In light of the trauma I had experienced with my first birth, this was a very small discomfort, but it’s worth noting that this small slip caused scarring and has resulted in pain to this day.
By 10 pm everything had been checked, administered, and signed. We all decided to get some rest, and we were all asleep by 11 pm. I felt nothing below my ribcage. I couldn’t move by myself, but being able to rest while in labor was a new experience for me and I felt like the trade-off was worth it. Around 1 am I woke up with the feeling of pressure. Because I couldn’t feel anything, I wasn’t sure if it was due to the baby actually coming out or just moving down. I woke up Kevin and asked him to check and see if everything looked ok, and by 2 am we called for our nurse to check my progress. I was declared to be at a 10 and encouraged to just relax and let Grey work his way down on his own.
We were all too excited to sleep hearing this news, so we stayed awake and watched the contractions on the monitor. By 3 am I was convinced he was about to come out on his own, so I asked Kevin to call my nurse again. When she came in to check, she looked at me nervously and said “ok, DON’T PUSH. The midwife will be in here soon but don’t push until she gets here!” I felt annoyed at being told what to do with my body, but because I couldn’t feel anything I didn’t have much of a choice other than to wait.
By 3:30 am the midwife arrived and, in just thirty minutes and a few good pushes, Grey was born. I laughed between pushes, chatted with my mom and Kevin, and felt at ease and in control. When he was born, he was given to me immediately and I held him close. With my first delivery I was so exhausted, so overwhelmed, so undone by what I’d gone through that I felt no emotion upon seeing my son for the first time.
I felt numb. It made bonding difficult, and I didn’t feel like I truly appreciated all the love that is mother-love until about 1-2 months postpartum.
With the birth of Grey, I felt that emotion immediately. I felt love, excitement, happiness, and joy. I couldn’t believe it. This birth was so different, so peaceful, so joyful. He arrived so quickly and so easily. I felt rested and relaxed. I realized that birth wasn’t always traumatic and that I could actually feel in control and prepared for labor and delivery.
(Disclaimer: The hospital stay was the worst. I hated being there and I hated being forced to do so many things I didn’t want for my baby. I hated being forced to not sleep with him, having to say no over and over to certain tests, and not being allowed to leave early without the fear of having the care providers notify child protective services that we left their care before they gave us permission. The stay was not traumatic, but I’ll be choosing a different option in the future purely due to hospital regulations post-delivery.)
Having gone through two very, very different births, having had time to process both experiences, and having learned more as the years have progressed, I’ve come away with a few conclusions:
Preparation makes all the difference.
Confidence in your decisions (a positive, controlled mindset) is a setup for success.
A provider who truly respects your wishes and cares for you as a person is a must.
Birth trauma isn’t reversible, it isn’t erasable, but it is redeemable.
The thought of going through another labor and delivery isn’t panic-inducing anymore. It isn’t painful to consider. I feel confident that if we have another child (a very big IF, because two boys is a handful for us!), I would go into the pregnancy with a sense of responsibility. I would want to learn as much as I could, to bond with the baby, to establish healthy practices, to ground myself early, to meditate often, to feel the peace of God flowing through me as his daughter, to know I am loved and my baby is cared for, and to be confident in the decisions I make concerning my pregnancy, labor, delivery, and recovery period.
If you’ve experienced a traumatic birth and are heading into birth number 2 (or more!), I’d be honored to be a part of your story. I have a special place in my heart for mamas going into a delivery after having a difficult experience or a loss, and the beauty of redemption in a birth following a trauma adds a level of sacredness to labor that’s hard to match.
Let me know how I can help your next story be even more beautiful, more peaceful, and more precious than the last.
