Julie, over at A Little Pregnant, wrote one of the best rants I have ever read. For anybody who has ever suffered from infertility, miscarriages, prematurity, or complicated births only to have above harrowing experiences minimalized by a clueless granola cruncher…this post is a MUST read.
Archive for the 'Pregnancy' Category
3 years ago today we found out about you. We talked about you for years before we dared to try for you. We worked hard at our jobs and built a house to make a great life for you. We spent a few years just being husband and wife knowing that your arrival would change everything. In the fall of 2004 we began planning for you in earnest. I visited doctors to make sure my body was ready for you.
We started trying for you in January of 2005. The doctor warned us it may take us a while because I had been on the pill for a long time. We were excited and nervous at the same time. In February I was a couple of days late and took a home pregnancy test. It was negative. I felt sad and yet relieved. In March I was a couple of days late again and took another test. Negative again. It seemed the doctor was right. This might take us a little while. Two mornings later, I was still late.
So the morning of March 17, 2005 I walked sleepily to the bathroom when I awoke. I remembered that I should take another test. I put the stick up on the window ledge and went out into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I went back in to get the test, fully expecting only 1 pink line. TWO?!?! I rubbed my eyes and looked again. I was smiling and shaking. I walked into the bedroom to see Brandon half awake rubbing his eyes. I must have looked shaken because he asked me what was wrong. On the way over to him I was shaking so bad I almost dropped the test stick. I handed it to him nervously. He looked at me and said, “Ok. So two pink lines means pregnant or not pregnant?” (Wow…do guys really not know this? :-) )
I asked, “So you see two lines? I am not out of my mind?” He nodded and smiled. We were having a baby! We embraced for the longest time. He grabbed my hand and pulled me back into bed. “We’re gonna be late to work today,” he said. “I just want us to soak this all in and remember this moment.”
We laid in bed cuddled up together for a good long while just basking in our love and the wonder of the journey we were beginning.
Aidan, we have loved you from the moment we knew about you. We began our journey as parents that day. Thank you for the most amazing, love-filled 3 years of our lives. Thank you for the tremendous gift of being our son.
Aidan and I visited his old stomping grounds last week–the NICU where he spent the first 15 weeks of his life. It was a spur of the moment trip. Earlier in the day we went to the park to meet Catherine (one of his respiratory therapists turned friend/”grandma”/babysitter) and her dog Bella at the park. We had a wonderful time. Aidan LOVES dogs. He laughs hysterically when Bella licks his face. He even tries to get up on her back and ride her like a horse.
After the park we went to dinner with Catherine. We were taking her back to her house when she suddenly said, “I almost forgot. I think Janet is working tonight.” Janet was one of Aidan’s night primary nurses. Aidan was a very popular boy in the NICU. He had 2 day primary nurses and 2 night primary nurses. Sometimes they would have to “fight” each other for Aidan duty. We had not seen Janet in person in almost a year and a half. So Catherine called the NICU to make sure she was working.
We got there at about 6:30 and got to see the day shift right before they left and the night shift as they were coming on. It was absolutely wonderful. One of his day primaries, Kathi, was working along with about 5 other day shift nurses who had cared for him. On the night shift coming in we saw about 5 or 6 night nurses. Janet almost choked on her dinner when Aidan came running up to her.
The nurses seemed to be stuck in place. Their expressions can be described as nothing short of sheer joy and amazement. Of course we send pictures almost on a monthly basis via email to the NICU, but all of the nurses told me it is NOTHING like actually seeing the child.
The antepartum coordinator was there also. She asked if I wouldn’t mind visiting a few mothers in the hospital on bedrest and talking with them about Aidan. I am always willing to be of help. That hospital saved my life and saved my son’s life.
I met 4 different pregnant women. #1 was 31 weeks with twins and some evidence of the placenta starting to separate from the uterine wall. #2 was 26 weeks with preterm labor. #3 was 31 weeks with twins with Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome. #4 was 29 weeks with mild preeclampsia. All of the babies are measuring significantly bigger than Aidan when he was born. The mother who seemed most affected by our visit was mother #1. Her twins are a shade over 3 pounds each. She became very emotional when I recounted Aidan’s birth stats and she realized her twins were double Aidan’s birthweight. She and her husband seemed very frightened but bolstered by our visit. They were in awe of Aidan and thanked me profusely for my visit. I answered a lot of questions for them and I feel as if I gave them hope.
We visited some more with his nurses who also seemed bolstered by seeing this 2 1/2 year old running around. They could scarcely reconcile the moment with the 1.5 lb preemie they so tenderly cared for. They thanked me and told me that it is these moments that make their jobs worthwhile…that give them hope.
I reflected on the visit later that evening and felt a mix of emotions. There seems to be a big gaping hole in most NICUs and antepartum units in terms of taking care of emotional needs of the family. What would it have meant to me when I was on bedrest to have met a family who had a “good” outcome? Does that sort of meeting give hope or false hope? What had I given these antepartum parents or even the nurses for that matter? Hope or false hope?
A picture frame hangs on the central hallway wall in this NICU. There are now 2 others next to it. The picture was the first graduate picture hung on the hallway of his NICU. On Aidan’s first birthday we framed two pictures…one of Aidan on the day of his birth with Brandon’s hand behind him. Another was a montage of first birthday pictures with the inscription “Forever Grateful for Aidan Christopher”. I have had other parents remark to me that this picture gave them hope as they walked by it every day.
I worry sometimes that our story gives false hope. I know that the odds of a 1.5lb baby turning into a walking, talking, running, jumping, laughing toddler are not amazing odds. There are children who have difficulties and even disabilities. Life with Aidan has not been completely smooth sailing. We had some feeding issues and lungs to watch out for. But life felt sublime after that evening visit. We had come so far. Were we really in that place only 2.5 years ago? But when I visited those women, I remembered that fear. The ultimate fears. What if my baby doesn’t make it? What if my baby is permanently impacted?
Would I have wanted mostly blunt honesty about outcomes? Would I have wanted to see a child like Aidan?
I think I’d want both. I would want to know what *could be*…in both manners of speaking. Possible difficult outcomes…but also the ability to hope. The hope of what could be. The hope of a joyous toddler. The hope of Aidan.
I really pray I didn’t give false hope. As I thought about it more the next day, I came to the conclusion that there is nothing false about the hope I gave. Aidan is real. His outcome is real. Parents in this scary situation desperately need something to grab onto. I talked about the difficulties we faced, but I also talked about how most of my days now are filled with chasing after a very curious and active toddler.
The experience of that evening makes me want to do more for families faced with antepartum and NICU stays and impacts of prematurity. I’m just not sure what that looks like yet.
Now that I have been in the blogosphere for a while, I have had the opportunity to stumble across a lot of different blogs. One blog I like links to another blog and so on. I have read a fair number of blogs recently that are authored by midwives or mothers who are anti-cesarean and pro natural childbirth. Mostly these blogs talk about a more natural approach to childbirth. No problem there. I think a more natural approach is a wonderful goal. I had that goal myself.
I have two major objections to some of what I have been reading. The first is the idea that all cesarean sections can be avoided.
The cesarean rate in the US is too high at nearly 31%. I doubt I could even find anybody that would dispute that. I am not even sure there is a way to figure out what an expected cesarean rate would be if only medically necessary cesareans were performed. I guess a rudimentary place to start would be to begin with the fact that 1 of 8 babies born in the US is premature. I wonder how many of those babies were medically necessary cesareans. Half? A lot of preemie moms I know went into labor that could not be stopped. But I also know a lot who developed severe pre-e progressing to eclampsia or HELLP. And mothers whose babies were in severe fetal distress and needed immediate delivery.
In my case, my death and my son’s death without a cesarean on the night he was born was not only a possibility but a certainty. I had developed Class I HELLP syndrome. My liver was enlarged and threatening rupture. Aidan was starting to have some decelerations. The lab tests run on my blood even after Aidan was born were alarming…my liver values were through the roof and my platelets were all but nonexistent. This is a classic case of a necessary cesarean. I was only 28 weeks pregnant and waiting for an induction of labor would have killed us both.
The second objection to some of what I have been reading is the ridiculous notion that having a cesarean section means you didn’t give birth. A quote taken from a blog I recently read stated the following, “Cesarean section surgery (notice I do not call it “birth”) is the number one surgery performed in the
I felt hurt and angry as I read this and other similar statements on other blogs. What on earth is the purpose of saying something like this? Is it to give some women a “wake-up call” regarding unnecessary cesareans? If it is…I am not sure it will really do the trick. You see, I think any woman who has an unnecessary cesarean is either uninformed or coerced. I am not sure you fix either situation by guilting a mother regarding the way her baby came into the world. Most women would be more persuaded by hard data, such as the fact that lung issues are more prevalent in cesarean babies.
What you have done for sure when you make such a ludicrous statement as “a cesarean is not birth” is to further damage the psyche of women who really needed cesareans. I think the thought that really stuck in my head as I read these ridiculous statements was this:
Why do other women feel the need to marginalize the birth of my son? Or the birth of any child?
Is it a superiority complex? Do these women really believe that the way our children came into the world reflects on our mothering abilities? Is it the feeling of being supermom because they had an all natural birth? I would like to believe they just never stopped to consider the feelings of mothers in situations such as mine.
I applaud any woman who has the strength (and good fortune not to have a medical need for a cesarean) to give birth to a child with little to no intervention. But, ladies, birth is only a snapshot in the lives of our children. We have countless opportunities to don our supermom capes throughout our children’s lives. I didn’t get to be supermom by having a natural birth. I had a much more medicalized birth than I ever would have dreamed possible for myself. My child had a much more medicalized beginning. I have had countless other opportunities to prove what I am made of. I supported my son through a 105 day NICU stay. I protected his fragile health when he came home. I pumped day and night for 9 months to get my son breastmilk. I took him to physical therapy to watch over his development, to the pulmonologist to get the best care for his lungs, I quit my job to stay at home. I could go on and on.
I measure myself as a mother not by the WAY my child came into the world, but the fact that he is here and thriving. He is a boy full of laughter and curiosity. He is fiercely attached to both Brandon and me. We have had complete strangers comment on his love for us. He amazes me each and every day of his life. We didn’t get a normal or optimal birth experience. But if I have learned anything in the last 2 1/2 years it is that there was never a truer cliche in my life than this: “It’s not what happens to you, it’s what you do about it.”
Of course I gave birth to my son. I prepared my body to sustain his existence. I took immaculate care of myself. I carried him to viability when many women with my condition miscarry. I listened to my body and approached my doctors when things didn’t feel right. I dismissed every moment of discomfort I had on hospital bedrest to provide more time for my son to gestate. I sacrificed for him up until the moment of his birth. I was willing to allow myself to get sicker and sicker so long as it provided him more time in my womb.
I have every right to be proud of the birth of my son. When I talk to him about the day of his birth it will not be with regret and shame. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I did everything humanly possible for the well being of my child. I do this every day. This is the measure of a mother…..not just the birth experience.