One Baby, Please, Hold the Sugar: A Birth Story
One baby, please, hold the sugar is my daughter’s birth story told from her perspective. These words are her own and don’t necessarily express my personal views or opinions. I welcome all women to share their birth stories! Please contact me if you’d like to publish your birth story on The Incomplete Guide to Parenting. If you are interested in my doula or lactation services, please visit my website Disclaimer: No artificial sweeteners here I’ve gone back and forth about putting my story out into the world. I never wanted to scare anyone, and so when asked, I would come up with a glossed over, toned down version of my story, the “polite” version. But I recently read a birth story that was such a blatant bunch of sugar-coated bull**** that I laughed out loud. I felt like it skirted over the gory details to maintain that polite, perfect facade. The thing is, those kinds of stories hurt me (and many others no doubt) because while I know they’re not honest, there’s a part of me that questions it. Was my experience so out of the ordinary? Why do all these women talk about their births like it was a beautiful dream come true while I still have nightmares about mine? I catch myself feeling resentful towards those moms, and that’s not fair of me either. But it’s how I feel, and I know I’m not the only one. This story is not one of rainbows and candy-coated truths. This story is real and raw, and if that’s not something you can or want to hear, I suggest you move along. I tell my story the way it is because I owe it to myself and to every other woman out there who wonders if she alone has suffered. I hope that others might find solace in knowing that they are not alone and that they might find the strength to talk about their own authentic experiences. Birth: Early Labor I went into labor on a quiet Saturday morning in October. It was 2 am when I awoke to mild contractions. I was five days past my due date and had been impatient for the last couple of weeks, so I eagerly began timing them and saw that they were about 10 minutes apart. I didn’t want to get my hopes up – I’d had Braxton Hicks a few times already. So I tried to relax and go back to sleep, but the contractions continued. Around 6 am, my husband stirred a bit beside me, so I took the opportunity to tell him that I believed labor had started. We were both well prepared for a long haul. I’ve watched and learned from my mom’s and sisters’ pregnancies and knew that, especially for first-time moms, labor could take a while to get going. So we went about our business as usual. I showered and made pancakes. I almost would have forgotten that I was in labor if I didn’t get a little twinge in my back every ten minutes. My mom – who’s also my doula and lactation consultant – had an event to go to that afternoon. She offered to skip it, but I waved her off. I’m sure nothing will happen before tonight at the earliest, I said. Oh, boy was I wrong. Birth: Active Labor It was so sudden. I was taking a bath. One minute I felt relaxed, and the next, my body was just in agony. Contractions – real contractions, not those mild early labor contractions – feel white-hot and twisted, like someone’s wringing your organs as you burn from the inside out. I was crying, and I grabbed my phone to text my husband to come be with me. He timed my next few contractions, and we realized they were 2-4 minutes apart. I was so prepared for a drawn-out labor, but here I was only 10 hours from the first contraction and suddenly in active labor. The shock of it all had me feeling whiplashed. It was barely noon. Should we be going to the hospital? It didn’t seem logical. We called my mom so she could drive with us. She reminded me that I could be expected to labor outside the hospital if I wasn’t dilated enough to be admitted. I hesitated, but at this point, I was barely speaking and was spending a lot of time doubled over crying, so we went. “Contractions feel white-hot and twisted, like someone’s wringing your organs as you burn from the inside out.” The 40-minute drive to the hospital was not pleasant. My contractions were now just one minute apart, lasting for a minute or less. I contracted approximately 20 times in the back seat of a small sedan, crying into my husband’s shoulders while my mom rubbed my back. Being in labor anywhere sucks, but it somehow sucks even worse when you’re confined to a small space. When we finally got there, I was desperate to get in the tub as I had planned for a water birth. I didn’t want an epidural, so being in the water was crucial for me. And what a world of a difference it made. I was still contracting hard and fast, but it was so much more manageable. Birth: Transition My midwife met us upon arrival. She’d watched me through a contraction and admitted me but didn’t check to see how dilated I was. After laboring in the tub a bit, I wanted to know what kind of progress we were making, if any, so I asked her to check me. I was 9.5 centimeters dilated, and the baby was in the -1 station. I was shocked. It was about 1:30 pm. I’d been in active labor for less than 2 hours. I started to feel hopeful that our baby would be born quickly. (Haha that didn’t happen) My water had yet to break, and I was impatient, so I eventually asked my midwife to break
An Essure Nightmare
Permanent Birth Control: Warning**Content May be Scary and Graphic to Some People** Let me start at the beginning; In 2008 I had a permanent birth control, called Essure, put into my Fallopian tubes. I was 40 and knew I was done with children. Since I lead a healthy lifestyle, I didn’t see any downside to this-knowing my body could handle it. They are simple t-shaped springs used to create scar tissue and block any sperm from getting to the egg. Boy, was I wrong? From this point on, my body changed completely. Unbeknownst to me the implants are made of nickel and my body was rejecting them. I kept having strange side effects that were not disclosed before surgery. Maybe an allergy to nickel? By 2010, I was fully loaded with autoimmune diseases and Lyme disease (or is it?), so I had the implants partially removed, since doc couldn’t get it all out. Many western and naturopathic physicians were stumped by my symptoms. Only a few mentioned that Essure could be causing these problems. These symptoms were not all female related: Thyroid, exhaustion, psoriasis, yeast, pain, change in menstruation, reduced libido, dry uncomfortable skin, anxiety-panic attacks, joint pain, questionable Pap smears etc. Since I was so young and healthy before the Essure, this came as a big surprise. I dealt with these symptoms while searching for clues on both sides of the medical world for eight more years. Fall of 2017 my gynecologist told me I had a fibroid. I wasn’t worried as I knew many women have them and they go away with menopause, after all I was 49 at the time and assumed it would be soon enough. So, I took some herbal remedies, progesterone and kept my follow up appointments. I never had serious bleeding issues and pain was manageable. Nothing to do but wait to see how this plays out. By spring 2018 I had 2 large fibroids and my uterus was 13cm (9cm is normal). In June they found another and by July another. They were growing in leaps and bounds. I also looked pregnant and felt heavy, like carrying multiple children, not to mention the 20-pound weight gain in less than a year. That June I started bleeding, assuming this was a menstrual period I ignored it. Ten days later I was bleeding more not less, a call to my gynecologist and she says to increase progesterone…so I did. My family and I had a trip to the beach planned a few days later and I was worried I’d be heavily bleeding the entire time. So, doc did an ultrasound to reassure me but found I would indeed be bleeding for a long while as my endometrial lining was very thick. The hotel wouldn’t let us postpone the trip, so we took our chances. Heavy bleeding while at the beach was no picnic and a real challenge as a mom. It was difficult to tend to my needs while keeping up the façade for the sake of my children. Stopping at the lady’s room a hundred times per day was worrying everyone. My husband tried to distract them while I kept trudging the mile walk back and forth from the ocean (the Jersey shore has a lot of sand). He was probably the one who suffered the most mental anguish that week. Sometimes I couldn’t leave the bathroom for an hour or so and he’d be concerned that I passed out in there. The blood clots were as big as my fist and the bleeding was relentless. Another call to doc and again she said, “increase your progesterone.” At this point I’m not sure where to draw the line at “bleeding to death,” but I still (sort of) trust my gynecologist – so I obey. I was also talking to my Naturopathic doctor and midwife while on vacation. They gave me lots of tips with herbal and homeopathic remedies but did suggest that I should be seen by a doctor. Six days at the beach felt like a lifetime in hell. I could feel my iron slipping away. Finally, at home and I realized I was wobbly on my feet, couldn’t sleep and found out what restless leg syndrome was- so we went to ER. My hemoglobin was 8 (I thought it would be a 5) and I received much needed blood transfusions for severe anemia. Incidentally, a 12-15 hemoglobin is normal and 11 days earlier it was 13. Profusely bleeding for 11 days made drastic changes to my body and it doesn’t recover that quickly. I fired my gynecologist for not taking my symptoms serious enough. Clearly, I could’ve been put on medication much sooner to stop the bleeding and avoid 8 more months of anemia. It took 8 weeks to get healthy enough to have my uterus removed. This was not a matter taken lightly but the benefits outweighed the risks. My womb grew 7 healthy babies over 18 years, and I delivered some of them at home in a pool, so surgery was not even something on my radar for healthcare. If anything, I avoided mainstream western medicine when possible, but this was beyond my natural capabilities. Many doctor appointments, second & third opinions, various medications and a multitude of side effects all for something that could have been avoided. My surgery was scheduled on my husband’s birthday and I missed the first few days of my kids starting middle and high school, but the deed was finally done. More mom guilt. My uterus was 20cm (should be 9cm) with 4 large fibroids. This necessitated the need for the midline incision from belly button through pubic bone. Once opened, gynecologist took uterus, 1 ovary and a Fallopian tube. It came as a big surprise that I was missing my other Fallopian tube. Obviously, my Essure surgeon clearly forgot to tell me something. From start to finish, this surgery should’ve been 1.5 hours but mine was 4 hours due to the
