Baby No. 2: A Birth Story
Like the pregnancy, the birth of my second child was pretty straightforward. Having delivered my first child via an emergency C-section, my doctor was supportive of trying for a VBAC if I went into labour spontaneously before the 40 week due date, since I couldn’t be induced this time around. Considering that my first was born at 42 weeks after no signs of labour and requiring three inductions, the odds of going into labour spontaneously were against me, but I was determined to stay positive and do whatever I could to have a successful VBAC. With each passing week and no signs of labour, I started to mentally prepare myself for an elective C-section (I don’t like the word ‘elective’ as it somehow implies a choice where there is often none. I much prefer using the term ‘scheduled C-section’). I was disappointed that I wouldn’t get to at least experience labour as I had the last time, but I reassured myself that I had done everything possible to bring on labour naturally including an attempt at a membrane sweep that didn’t work.
I wrapped up work and checked into the hospital the evening before my due date. My husband went home for the night and I went to sleep after dinner and a few routine tests. The surgery was scheduled for 11 a.m. the next morning, although the timing was changed a few times. I was finally taken to the theatre waiting room at 12:15 and the surgery began at 13:30. The waiting period up until then was the most difficult part because unlike the last time, there were no contractions to focus on. I was also starving at this point, as I hadn’t eaten since dinner or drunk water for a couple of hours. I walked (yes, walked!) over to the operating table from the waiting room while the nurses (all male) introduced themselves and made me comfortable. The mood was relaxed and chatty which I appreciated. I sat up and leaned over while the spinal block was injected into me successfully after a few tries. I had the same anaesthetist as the last time, and she was lovely. I lay down and the drip was added to my hand.
My husband came in and sat by me, holding my hand while the surgery began. I tried to take deep calming breaths but at some point I began feeling very uncomfortable. I think it was my blood pressure dropping (probably a result of not having eaten for so long) as a machine beeped and an oxygen mask was put over my nose and mouth, a sheet over my chest, and something in the IV. I felt better quite quickly. Then I felt this massive pressure as two people pressed down on my stomach several times to help the doctor get the baby out. Apparently she was very high up and posterior with the chord loosely wrapped around her whole body, and so my doctor needed some help.
And then, that cry. Tears in my eyes. My husband cut the chord, the paediatrician checked and wrapped her up, and my husband brought her over to me. I kissed and spoke to her for a bit before the two of them went off together to the room for some skin-to-skin. While I waited in the observation area for about an hour, they spent this crucial time together before she fell asleep. I might have missed the golden hour, but my husband got to experience it. Just the way we had prepared and planned for with our medical team. I was back in the room about three hours from when the surgery began.
I was a little woozy from the medication but I was able to put the baby on me and try to get her to feed. She was fast asleep so I hand expressed some colostrum and fed it to her with a syringe. I was very determined to get our breastfeeding journey off to a good start, and avoid some of the mistakes that we made last time. A few hours later she woke up and immediately latched. She nursed for a while, went back to sleep, and work up every few hours to nurse. The dream!
The next day the doctors and lactation consultant checked in on us, and everything was fine. I had already begun walking around the previous day, just a few hours after surgery. My doctor confirmed the need for the C-section and reassured me that we did the best we could. In the afternoon, my elder daughter came over with her nanny to meet the baby. She was so excited to meet her, hug, kiss, and touch her. My heart was just bursting.
We were discharged the next day and reached home in the evening; a little over 48 hours post surgery. It was lovely to be home and reunited as a family of four. As with my first birth, I left feeling especially grateful to science, medicine, and medical professionals for being able to have a safe and positive birth experience despite the necessity for surgical intervention. Unlike my first birth, I didn’t feel any doubt or regret after. Just acceptance that this is how it was meant to be. A part of me was sad that I will never know what it feels like to deliver a baby vaginally, but I know that maternal and infant mortality is still very much a reality (especially in our parts of the world), and I do not take my babies safe passage into this world for granted.
