Photo Credit: Erin Kavanaugh Photography

Disclaimer/Trigger Warning:
This birth story contains details of a traumatic birth. This may be triggering or frightening for some people. However, the reason I decided to share my story is because I believe people need to know that these things can happen and sometimes there are red flags. But how are you supposed to know what they are if you never hear these stories? I read so many pregnancy books. So many birth stories. None of them prepared me for what happened.
I was so naive that I didn’t even know what a birth injury was before my daughter was born. I just want to help others be aware of things that can happen. I truly believe this could have been prevented if proper intervention had taken place. I wish I had recognized the red flags.

This was really hard for me to write out and it still isn’t easy to talk about because theres so many things that happened that I still don’t understand. My baby suffered a brain injury during labor. This is how our story began.

Pregnancy

My daughter was a planned pregnancy. I was healthy before I got pregnant, stayed healthy throughout, and I had a fairly easy pregnancy. I had some morning sickness, but more nausea than vomiting. It passed by the 20 week mark.

I was convinced I was carrying a boy, but was shocked and elated when we found out she was a girl! That was one of the happiest parts of my pregnancy, for the sheer shock of it. It was so exciting.

As a first time mom, it was expected that I would go overdue, and I did. Starting at 40 weeks, I went for regular non-stress tests, which always turned out good and the baby continued to have regular movement.

At 41 weeks and 3 days pregnant, I was told we would have to induce. I was scheduled for an induction for 41 weeks and 6 days. This was disappointing, as the thought of induced labor scared me because it comes with its own risks, but there was not much I could do. Up until this point, baby was always doing well at my check ups, and like most moms, I was expecting to give birth, get skin-to-skin, and take my healthy baby girl home with me in a few days.

However, for me and 28,000 other women a year in the United States, that would not be the case. My daughter suffered what is known as a birth injury and would end up being immediately taken from me and sent to the NICU. More specifically in her case, she suffered from a brain injury, which I will explain more in my next blog post. This post is my birth story.

Labor & Delivery

Thursday, August 10th:

I began experiencing some painful contractions about 8-10 minutes apart. I was due for an induction the next morning at 7am, so I had lost most hope that I would go into labor on my own at this point.

However, as the night went on, the contractions got more and more painful, particularly in my back. I called my provider and she doubted that I was in labor but told me if it got to 5 minutes apart or too painful to call and come to the hospital.

Around midnight, this was the case and we called her answering service and made our way to the hospital, which was 20 minutes away.

I was not dilated. I was told that since my induction was scheduled for a few hours from now to just stay at the hospital. They set me up in a postpartum room for the night and that was pretty much it for that night.

Friday, August 11th:

7 am came and went and it wasn’t until mid-morning when my provider came in to say that the induction had to be delayed because the maternity ward was too busy. We were instructed to go for a walk, which we did and came back. Still nothing.

Finally at 1pm, they started me on the first part of the induction, which was inserting Cervidil to help me dilate. That would have to stay in place for 12 hours.

My contractions from the night before continued irregularly throughout the day. During the day time, I was regularly being checked by the nurse to monitor the baby’s heart rate. Once the evening came along, however, the checks became quite infrequent and we were pretty much left to our own devices

Unfortunately, this was the hardest night of my labor. My back labor became incredibly unbearable Friday night. I finally had to press the call light and request some help. The nurse on this shift turned the birthing tub on for me and that was pretty much it. It was obvious that they were very busy, but I was in a ridiculous amount of pain and felt like I had been forgotten. My husband was an amazing support during this time, and I don’t know what I would have done without him. We were supposed to have a doula, but when we called her that night, she told us she wouldn’t be able to come until later on that night, and since I wasn’t going to be induced with the pitocin until the next morning, we told her not to come that night.

After some time in the tub, it just wasn’t working for me anymore. I will tell you, back labor is the worst pain I have ever been in. I literally could not do anything. I couldn’t sit, stand, lay down, walk – I was delirious. I finally called the nurse again and told her that I changed my mind and I didn’t want to go unmedicated for the birth. I needed to talk to someone about possibly switching providers. The reason for this is because my provider “didn’t do” epidurals. As in, she just doesn’t. She tells you this when you sign up as a patient. I understood this at the time since my original intention was to have an unmedicated birth, but I had also not expected to need to be induced which changed my feelings on whether or not I’d want medication. But my back labor confirmed that I wanted medication. I needed pain relief DESPERATELY.

The nurse told me she’d talk to the provider and said I could get morphine with no risk to the baby to help that night after the Cervidil was taken out. So, I continued to suffer until my provider came in, and told me I wasn’t “really” in pain yet and that I could get a pill for “anxiety” once I was in labor rather than an epidural to help me. I told her I wanted an epidural for my labor and I knew she didn’t do them, so if I could see about making it possible. She said I could get the epidural the next day and it would be fine.

I had the Cervidil taken out shortly after as the 12 hours had passed and it was now around midnight. It did work and I had dilated a bit, but not quite enough yet and I was told I could take the morphine and go to sleep and pitocin would start in the morning. The morphine definitely took the edge of the back labor off enough for me to get some sleep that night.

Saturday, August 12th:

The next morning they started me on the pitocin and my contractions began getting stronger and more frequent. I remember asking a few times when I could get my epidural until I was finally dilated enough for them to allow it. Let me tell you something, even after receiving all my bills in the mail for my birth and how much I ended up paying out of pocket, I am STILL SO THANKFUL for that anesthesiologist. He was so kind, and did a great job with the epidural.

It began working rather quickly and numbed me just the right amount so that I could still move my legs with some effort. I, for sure, was not completely numb and this was fine with me. I wanted to be able to feel the urge to push and all that. I only ever pressed the bolus button to up the epidural ONE time in my whole labor, to which my provider said  “Keep doing that and you’re not going to feel anything…”

I know at this point, you may have noticed that my provider sounds awful and question why I even chose her. Honestly, I didn’t have any issues with her until my labor. She was fine at most of my prenatals aside from being very dismissive about me having PUPPS.  But we didn’t vibe during labor. She stopped being supportive once I said I needed an epidural. I understand she doesn’t support them, but in my opinion, it doesn’t justify being unsupportive as soon as your patient does something that deviates from what you prefer – especially considering I requested switching to the other provider, a obgyn who was on that night.

After the epidural started working its magic, I continued to have contractions that were more manageable now that my back was no longer absolutely killing me. During this day, I had a nurse checking on me every 15 minutes or so, checking the heart rate of the baby.

Finally, some time after 8 pm, it was time to begin pushing. Pushing lasted for almost 3 hours. My daughter was born at 11:14 pm. This part of the story is the hardest for me to type. I keep having to pause because it just makes me sick to recall it all.

During my pushing, the room was, of course, very dimly lit. I had my husband at one side of me, a couple of nurses on the other, and my provider in and out of the room. Pushing was hard, obviously. I wasn’t really coached, which sucked.

My epidural wasn’t overly strong, so I could feel the pressure that was telling me to push, but it was confusing. I’d think I was doing good and my provider would tell me I was vocalizing wrong. That I needed to grunt. I felt frustrated, scared, and confused.

Regardless, I remember her looking at the baby’s heart strips pretty often and looking worried. I assumed this was probably protocol. Being in labor, and giving birth is a pretty vulnerable state to be in. You hope that you can just trust that everyone knows what they’re doing. A few times she commented that the baby “isn’t liking this.”

I didn’t know what that meant, but I was trying my best. At one point she said, ”If this next push isn’t good, this is going to have to be a c-section.” Of course, this terrified me. I continued to push for a good 10-20 minutes with still no success, yet she didn’t initiate a call for a c-section.

All I remember about this time besides that comment was trying so hard to focus on pushing her out. Calling upon my guardian angel to please help me get the baby out, I didn’t know how much longer I could take this. Then the provider told me that she was going to call in the OB-on call for vacuum assistance. This terrified me as well! I knew that sometimes vacuum intervention can hurt the baby.

The OB came in and took a look and said that the time for a vacuum intervention had passed and I was doing fine and to just keep going, I was almost there.

It was so ironic. I really didn’t want a male OB when I was pregnant because I just prefer female providers, as they usually make me feel more comfortable. But at that moment, that small little word of encouragement helped so much. My provider had been the opposite of encouraging this whole time.

Birth & Aftermath

Well, this is where it gets hard to talk about. At 11:14pm on Saturday, August 12, Julia was born. I pushed her out in that last push and she was swiftly taken to the nearby table where a pediatrician and medical team were already waiting to assess her. It seems everyone but my husband and I knew that something was wrong.

I remember seeing her limp body rushed over to the doctor as they tried to resuscitate her. She has aspirated meconium and at this point, we were told it was going to be okay, and the pediatrician had even given us a reassuring “thumbs up” at one point.

I told my husband, who had not yet left my side, to go to the baby and be with her as I watched from the delivery table. This was honestly one of the worst feelings of my life. It was clear something wasn’t okay. I was crying and watching them try to resuscitate her for what felt like forever. I hadn’t even gotten a glimpse of her face yet.

They got her breathing and were able to weigh and measure her (6lb 3oz, 20”), but then said that there was an issue with her blood cord gas. This essentially indicates that there was acidosis which is usually caused by chemicals your body releases when there is a lack of oxygen. The pH was lower than it was supposed to be and she would have to be checked out and transferred to the Children’s hospital NICU.

During this time, I was crying and being stitched up by my provider and the on-call OB. Again, the on-call OB showed such kindness and empathy at this time, trying to encourage me that sometimes this happens and she would likely be fine. My provider, however, was tight-lipped. She did not look at me, speak to me, or address a single thing.

Someone (nurse, pediatrician, I don’t honestly remember) held Julia’s body next to me for a second so I could “see” her but I was laid flat on the delivery table, so I didn’t see anything.

Julia was taken to the nursery and the room quickly emptied. It was just me and my husband in this dark room. It was honestly a nightmare. I told my husband that he needed to go with the baby to the Children’s hospital when Julia was transferred and I’d find a way to get there as soon as I could get discharged.

It was super late now, around 1 am, and I asked if my husband could call someone to be with me while he went to see our baby in the hospital’s NICU, as she had not yet been transferred to the Children’s hospital. No one was answering their phones except for my sister-in-law. She came as quick as she could to be with me while my husband was in the hospital’s NICU. I don’t know if she realizes it, but I am so thankful for her being there with me during that time. It was the worst feeling in the world to have gone through what I went through, then not be able to see my baby or my husband. The absolute worst. I really appreciated her being there to sit with me, in mostly silence, after what felt like my life crumbling.

Finally, around 2am, the transport team from the Children’s hospital came to the room with my sweet baby girl in her isolette, to see me, finally and briefly, before they headed off to the hospital an hour away.

I had given birth to her over 2 hours ago and finally, just then, I was getting to see her and touch her little hand. I couldn’t hold her because they had already started the cooling treatment that she needed because of the low blood cord gas. That moment was honestly indescribable. I was so happy to be finally seeing my baby. My baby, who I grew in my body for the past 42 weeks, who I loved so much, waited so long to meet and longed so hard to hold.

It was a bittersweet moment. I was so scared for her. One of the kind people on the transport team took our first family photo. It still makes me sad to look at it, and I haven’t ever shared it online and I don’t really plan to at this point.

After a few minutes, they told us they had to head to the hospital. They told my husband when she got there, she would need to be assessed and there wasn’t much he could do, so it would probably be wisest for him to stay with me overnight, try to rest, and come in the morning. Thank God, he did. It was a tough night. Going to sleep without my baby, knowing she was now so far away from me, and truthfully, fighting for her life was not a good feeling.

Day 1 Postpartum

Neonatal seizures, getting discharged early, seeing my daughter again:

The next morning, my husband headed to the Children’s hospital and called my parents, explained to them what happened, and told them to come to be with me while he was gone.

My parents didn’t get there until around noon and my husband left around 8am, so I was alone for a few hours and it was tough. I remember crying so much, but also trying to get myself together because I felt I needed to convince my provider to discharge me early.

So, I got showered, got dressed, and waited. My parents got to the hospital.

While waiting for my provider, my husband called and had bad news. Our daughter was having seizures. He sadly witnessed it for himself. The doctors were able to stabilize her with the anticonvulsant, Phenobarbital, but discovered she continued to have silent seizures as well. They quickly got her on a higher dose and that prevented any further seizures. The seizures were a result of her brain injury which occurred during birth.

Shortly after getting this news, my provider came in to assess me for discharge. When I told her the news I just got about my baby having seizures, she remarked that sometimes these things “just happen,” especially since she aspirated meconium (even though the two were not related). She told me, “…But you pushed that baby out!” A comment that made me feel absolutely sick to my gut. As if pushing out a baby rather than having a c-section was that important. As if my daughter being ill wasn’t a concern. As if the method of birth was all that mattered. I was shell-shocked, but she cleared me for discharge.

12 hours after giving birth with fresh stitches and in more pain than I was admitting to, I was discharged and my parents drove me to Children’s hospital where I was finally reunited with my daughter and husband. I saw her again. This time for real. A good look at her. My baby. My daughter. Unfortunately, we still wouldn’t be able to hold her for another four days.

You can read about more about our experience with HIE by clicking this link

Thank you SO much if you made it this far. This wasn’t easy to write out, but it is how our story began.