The internet is a wonderful, scary, huge, small, toxic, beautiful space. It's a space where I have met so many strong supportive women and people. And although I have yet to meet many of them in person, I have made so many true and important friends here. I'm not sure how I came to follow Cynthia on instagram but it was probably through her doula posts. I loved her honesty and imperfect squares. I loved her soul that you could just feel spill through the screen.
Cynthia and her husband, Cassady, had difficulty conceiving and after turning to IVF Cynthia was able to grow and carry her beautiful little girl Penny. She shared her story on her page and with each new piece of herself she shared, I felt a deep investment in her story. When it finally came time for the birth of her lucky Penny I couldn't wait for her to transform into the mother that I had learned to know she so desperately wanted and deserved to be. Right after Penny's birth Cynthia opened up about her home birth turned cesarean. After starting this space I reached out to her to see if she wanted to share any parts of her motherhood journey because I knew it was a story that so many could relate to. It has been two years to the day that Cynthia started her labor and she is just now ready and able to share.
There is a misconception in our society that how a person births is irrelevant if the result is a happy healthy mom and baby. How a person births has a deep and scarring effect. Some scars are physical and some emotional. Some scars tell beautiful and happy stories and some carry pain that never goes away. The fact that it has taken Cynthia two years to open up about her birth story proves just this. There is no timeline on which you have to heal by, when it comes to your birth. There is no right or wrong way to feel.
I want to thank Cynthia for always being so open and raw about her story and I hope that no matter where you are in your healing process, that her story will help you feel the solidarity in motherhood that this site was created for.
6 days is the length of a decent vacation
6 days is longer than the standard work week
6 days is 144 hours
6 days is the amount of time I labored with my heart and soul to get my little girl earth side.
6 days I barely ate.
6 days I barely slept.
When people asked why I went so long the answer is pretty simple. There was never any reason not to other than the fact that it was taking a long time. Every stress test every time they checked her heart rate she never once in 6 days had a dip in her heart rate. I was very closely monitored and my levels and the babies levels all stayed the same and I never spiked a fever.
I dreamt about having a homebirth for as long as I can remember. As a Birth Doula I watched so many woman bring their babies into the world and I couldn’t wait to join this beautiful club.
When we found out that we could not conceive a baby naturally and ivf was our only option I clung to my dreams of getting to bring my baby from their first home (my body) to earthside at home. All the shots, blood test and ultrasounds, along with all the people being involved, carried my heart deeper into the homebirth haven.
When I went into labor I was excited. I wasn’t afraid. I sat on my birthing ball and listened to my hypno birthing and let my husband sleep. With my birth training knowledge I knew even though the contractions were coming consistently it was still too early to alert anyone. For a few hours I paced in the apartment contracting by the light of the Christmas tree. I felt my baby dancing around in my belly. Around 4am we contacted our Doula. I got into the shower to see if my contractions would slow down any but they stayed steady at 3/4 minutes apart. Our Doula came and contractions kept building. Around 9:30am our Doula alerted our midwife that it was looking like she needed to come. She looked me in the eyes and said your going to have a baby today. Contractions were staked ontop of one another and our midwife suggested doing a vaginal exam. So I laid on my sofa and took a deep breath. It felt like she was ripping my body in two. She seemed confused. I had already been laboring for 12 hours and I wasn’t dilated. She seemed dumbfounded. She asked if she could invite another midwife to come check. I said okay and after a few more hours of laboring the second Midwife came. She came and confirmed I had yet to start dilating. I felt defeat but I was like this is my first baby and me and my body have this. So everyone left and I was alone with my husband and mother. The contractions didn’t stop. Around 9pm the next night I was laboring on my bed and with a giant contraction my water broke while I was in the arms of my husband and mother. My mom said “this was good this is what we were waiting for.” So we rang the Doula and the midwife and everyone came back over. Even though I was ruptured our midwife said she wanted to do another check. I was dilated 4cm and fully effaced. This felt like a huge victory after 2 days of labor. I was like okay I got this. My midwife had another mama in labor so said she was leaving but that she would return soon. I felt good and got into the tub and just kept trucking along.
After she returned from her birth it was the first time I saw a side of her I didn’t really love. She said “sorry but it was her (3rd or so baby foggy on that detail) but continued to say that that mama deserved it.” I wasn’t upset or put off in the slightest that another baby was born before mine. But for some reason she wanted me to be.
Everyone ordered pizza and gathered in the kitchen. I labored in my bathtub determined to get this baby out. Later my midwife and Doula took me outside to walk and lunge and get the baby moving.
We paced up and down the blocks and with every contraction we used the stoops to help open me up. I lunged and leaned into each wave and begged that baby to get moving, people on the street yelled that someone needed to get me to the hospital but we kept moving. I started feeling weak and tired. It had been 3 days and I was beginning to think that there was never going to be a baby.
We got back to the apartment and they suggested I try and get a little rest. So they made me a little cocoon that I could rest on. They got me benodryl in hopes that it would make me drowsy enough to sleep. Cassady laid down and I watch him snooze a little relived he was getting some rest. My Doula slept on the floor. I laid down but was awaken with a contraction every 3 minutes. I couldn’t stay laying down because it hurt too much. So I would jump up in pain and my midwife would push against my back and I would breathe and push through as best I could. Reminding myself of every mantra I had told the laboring mamas before me.
The morning came again and our midwife and Doula left. My Doula friend came over and walked around with me to get me out. Contractions slowed a little at this point so that evening my midwife suggested I take caster oil and see if that just took everything up a notch.
We walked to the ice cream shop (contracting all the way) and got my favorite flavor and made a little milkshake to drink. Within the hour the contractions had gone from intense to barely tolerable. I was paralyzed on the floor. Everything but the baby was pouring out of my body. Finally there was some blood! I was so relived. Things were happening. So slowly but they were indeed happening. For hours I was on all fours in the light of the night with my body getting rid of everything. My husband attending to both ends of my body. Cleaning vomit and comforting me as best he could.
I don’t remember at what point or what day it was by this point but our midwife suggested we do another exam. 7cm this was huge. 5 days and 7cm I was so close. Our acupuncturist came and I sobbed as she put tiny needles into me. I tried to mediate and let me body relax. I contracted. My friend came to deliver food. And another friend came and did reiki she said that it wasn’t my body and that the baby was trying but couldn’t.
My midwife had me get on all four and try pushing to see if I’d open up more with a contraction. So she put her arm inside me with a contraction held me open. When I first met my midwife she said that she felt like I was just going to plop the baby out on the kitchen floor. She said we didn’t even need to discuss an alternate plan because she said she knew I was a rockstar.
The sun came up again and everyone’s energy had shifted. Our midwife suggested me might need to think about transferring. I was so sad. We went for a walk and I sobbed in my husbands arms. I didn’t understand. My body was made for this. Was it because there was no baby? Was I going to end up on the news as the lady who thought she was pregnant but had made it all up?? Slowly I was unraveling and fatigue was setting in.
We got back to the apartment and agreed to go to the hospital. There was still hope that this baby was going to come out vaginally but it wasn’t going to be here. My Doula and midwife said that maybe I just needed a little help.
The hour drive to New Jersey was awful. I couldn’t sit in my seat so I sat backward clinging to the headrest wildly contracting. Things were picking up. Maybe the fear made my body go into over drive.
Arriving at the hospital it was cold outside I realized the next time I would be outside I would no longer have a baby in my belly. However I wasn’t convinced there would be one in my arms. I remember my husband asking questions about insurance. I felt numb and disassociated from what was happening. They lead me to the room and hooked me up to iv fluids and we met with the new midwife. She said she thought I needed just a little help and this babe would be out. My husband snuck me in a grilled cheese.
Next came the pitocin the dreaded drug that is being sold to me as the ticket to holding my baby. So I agree to the pitocin as long as I don’t have to stay in the bed. So the needle goes in and I say a prayer. All of my hopes and dreams of how I envisioned bringing my baby into this world are shattered with that first drip. I believed in my body. Why wasn’t it working.
Around midnight they suggested giving me a sleeping aid. I agreed but that ended up being insane. It was a drug that made me hallucinate. I got in the bed and fell out of consciousness until the next contraction where I would be awoken without any recollection as to where I was. This happened every four minutes for hours. I was scared. I hated it. I wanted to escape my own body. I felt powerless and terrified every minute of this. I asked to be unhooked for just a little bit. They reluctantly agreed and I got to get in the shower. Tears and water streamed down my body. After 30 minutes they made me get hooked back up again.
The sun came up again. And the midwife came back and was shocked that I hadn’t yet gotten an epidural. 18 hours on pitocin at its highest volume
18 hours on pitocin and no change. . . I remember standing and trying to shake the baby out I screamed please please get out. But nothing.
The new game plan was that I needed to have an epidural to rest. They said my body was tired and I was going to need to get more strength to push. I reluctantly said okay. So they tied me up to the bed with cords and more cords
They inserted the epidural and my heart collapsed. I was like how am I going to have to say I had an epidural. I failed. I was so depleted that I couldn’t birth my baby. I laid down hoping that I would finally get some relief and wake up with the urge to push and my baby would be in my arms.
But the pain didn’t go away. The catheter hurt. I had been in labor for 6 days and this was the first time I had complained. I felt like a dog strapped down. The contractions became unbearable because I couldn’t move my body into a position to get some comfort. I couldn’t believe I was trapped in my worst fear.
I asked the nurse to please remove the catheter because it was hurting so badly. And she said that I couldn’t possibly feel it because I had had an epidural. But I begged and finally she did. It was such a relief. She told me I’d have to have it put back in eventually. So I said that I wanted someone else to do since it felt like she scrapped out my insides when she had inserted it.
3 hours I was strapped to the bed sobbing in pain. The midwife came in and said they had exhausted all the options and that I was going to have to have the baby surgically removed. I felt my body disappear like sand through your fingers. The sounds got quieter and I had no fight left.
They rolled me into the operating room and I asked that I be nude. I didn’t want anything in the way of touching my baby. Everyone kept saying how cold I would be but I didn’t care. I wanted my skin available for the baby. They started playing music and assembling the room like clockwork and I wish that I could remember what music it was. Something familiar but not comforting. As they prepped me I was very concerned that I could still feel my legs but no one seemed to care or believe me. I told the dr and he said he was going to do a test. He ran a wet cloth up my shin and asked if I could feel anything. I said yes it feels like you ran a wet cloth up my leg. Then he screamed “get her up get her up.” And then they said I had to have a spinal. They laid me back down. The surgeon laid his head down next to mine and said he knew this is not what I wanted but I was about to become a mother. They brought in my husband, my Doula and both midwives. Minutes later they cut our little girl out of my belly. We had asked for delayed cord cutting but once they opened me up they said that her cord was too short that they had to cut it to remove the baby from my belly. They asked Cassady if he wanted cut the cord. It was so thick he said it felt like cutting through a garden hose. Once he did they held up the baby and told Cas to say the sex. It’s a girl. I said that’s our Penny girl as I fell in and out of consciousness. I struggled to keep my eyes open. She was here and I was slipping away. I don’t remember hearing her cry.
I don’t remember getting brought back to the room but I do remember that they didn’t take me to recovery. They brought me back to the same room I had been in. They asked if I wanted anything and I said yes food. That’s when the nurse told me that I couldn’t eat for 24 hours. I couldn’t believe it. It had been nearly a week since I had had a proper meal and now they were denying me something to eat. I literally felt like things couldn’t be worse. Every dream I had had was the complete opposite.
When they finally transferred us to the new room it was freezing. I held Penny in my arms and just cried. Cried from exhaustion. Cried from pain, cried from hunger, cried for the things I didn’t get and for the things I had dreamed.
My heart was expecting to explode with love but instead broke. What I thought was going to be the happiest day of my life felt like the saddest. Raw. Hopeless instead of hopeful. My daughter was here and I just wanted to take it all back. It felt like a punishment for messing with nature.
Alone in the room with the catheter still in and my legs bound by some weird machine that was supposed to help with the swelling from the loads of drugs they gave me. I looked down at my feet in complete disgust. I didn’t even recognize my toes. They were so swollen it looked like you could squish them open like grapes.
My body hurt. I had this little person but I could barely move. I felt like I was hit by a train. Every inch of me hurt. But I held her and she nursed every hour. The nurses told me that I had to buzz them whenever she wanted to nurse. This felt strange but I was so tired and barely had enough strength to breath that I just did as I was told. She nursed. I buzzed. The nurse came in and pricked her little foot. She cried. The first time I heard her cry was on my breast because someone was hurting her. They did this every hour for the first 5 hours of her life.
Finally I said why?? Why are you doing this. I couldn’t take it and they said because of her birth weight. Blah blah blah. I said I can I say no?? And they said yes. So we declined any more pricks. Being an ivf mama I knew all too well how much those needles hurt.
Why were they doing this to her? We were supposed to be home in our cozy bed eating spaghetti. Not here.
Morning came and the Lactation consultant came in. I said I didn’t want any help. She left and then quickly came back. She said she heard our story and just wanted to say how sorry she was. Tears came. More tears. I couldn’t believe this was my reality.
The catheter finally came out. I wanted to shower. Dreaded taking a shower. I was afraid of standing. Who’s body was this. My feet hit the ground. Felt like ice. Why was it so cold. We all went to the bathroom together. I looked in the mirror and luckily my belly was still too big to see the stitches. But the iodine stained stomach wouldn’t stop glaring at me.
I turned on the water and stepped in. I don’t remember where the baby was. Was she sleeping?? In cassady’s arms? I don’t remember. Water hit my back but felt like needles. Hard not soft or comforting. I was too afraid to get my stomach wet. I got out as quickly as I had gotten in. I cried. More than anything else I remember crying.
We shivered through another night. Penny slept on my chest and the nurse came in and yelled at me. Said the baby had to be in the bassinet if I was sleeping. I said okay then I won’t sleep. I just laid there. Who was she to tell me what I could and couldn’t do with my baby. I said we need to leave we have to leave we have to get out of here.
The sun came up again and I was determined to go home. I said I was leaving weather they said I could or not.
The Lactation consultant came back again. She couldn’t believe how cold the room was. She asked us why we didn’t ask to move rooms. We were in such a fog it hadn’t even occurred to us that we could. Or that we should.
So we packed up and moved rooms. It was warm. We waited for the pediatrician to come so we could be discharged. I was determined to get out of this place.
We cut her tags off and signed a paper saying we were choosing to leave against medical recommendation. There was no reason to stay other than the fact that they had just cut me open. But my heart needed to go home. So we did.
She was 5 days old. 5 days. Almost the length that it took for her to get out of my body for me to realize I hadn’t even really looked at her. I hadn’t counted to see if she had all her toes. I hadn’t looked at her little fingers. I hadn’t look at her body. It took 5 days before I realized I should.
Cynthia is a mom, hairstylist, and wife among so many other things. You can find her instagramming @cynthiavanis
Katie's birth story is not one that's too uncommon in the birth world, unfortunately. An array of interventions and days on end of slowly progressing labor. Add in a low platelet count that denied her an epidural and things get hard and exhausting quick! So many factors of her birth could have been prevented if the lines of communication between her and her provider were more open. She felt so removed from her own body and that made this whole experience even harder. Her message is important. We need to ask questions. We need to know our options. Katie ended up asking for her medical records after this whole experience and she recommends you do the same if you have any questions at all. Thank you for sharing your story with us Katie, I hope that it can help us pave the way for more empowered and informed births.
When I found out I was pregnant, my husband Luke and I decided not to find out the gender. This is still one of my favorite parts of the whole thing. We were cautiously excited to share the news of the pregnancy with family and friends, still recovering from an early miscarriage the month before. My pregnancy was smooth. I was under the care of an OB, and decided to switch to a small practice in my area in hopes of more personalized care. We had our monthly, then bi-monthly, then weekly checkups as everything progressed!
Although I was under the care of an OB, I was focused on having an intervention-free, unmedicated birth. An acquaintance of mine told me of her success using the Hypnobabies techniques years before I became pregnant, and I decided that this was definitely something I wanted to try. I also took prenatal yoga and a natural-focused birth class led by a doula. During my pregnancy, I switched to a vegan diet from vegetarian.
My husband was super supportive of my approach to the pregnancy. He picked up extra chores around the house so that I could fit in Hypnobabies or prenatal yoga during the evenings. I poured over books and blogs and websites about childbirth, especially unmedicated childbirths, successful birth stories, really anything I could get my hands on! I could not get enough of learning about how amazing our bodies are throughout this entire process. During the childbirth class, we covered all aspects of labor, delivery, and breastfeeding. While interventions and cesareans were covered, I was so incredibly confident that my birth would go according to my plan, I just didn’t pay too much attention to those parts.
As my due date drew closer, my doctor began discussing an induction. Still, I was completely convinced I would go into labor on my own. Finally, at 41 weeks and 2 days, I scheduled my induction at the hospital. My husband and I switched our thinking as quickly as we could, trying to make the best out of this new situation. We downloaded “The Walking Dead” to watch in the hospital, decided an epidural would be the best route, and started planning. My husband was working out of state at the time, so part of our decision was knowing that if we didn’t do this now, the chances of him being out of town if/when I went into labor would continue to increase. We were scheduled to go into the hospital on a Thursday night, and we were as ready as we could be! Then, ONE HOUR before we were scheduled to arrive, the hospital called and said they were full. We were shocked, no one said this was even a possibility! Our options were to have the hospital call when they had a bed open that night, or go to bed and try again the next day. We chose the later. The next morning, we touched base with the nurses and were told that we’d get a call at some point that day. At this point, I was really starting to doubt the decision to go with an induction. If this was so necessary to a safe delivery, then why could it be pushed back and rescheduled? However, I knew that everyone was ready to get this baby out, and we decided to just keep with the original plan. Around 11:30 the following morning, the hospital called and we were all set to go in. The hospital is about 15 minutes away, and our bags had been packed, so we arrived around 12:30 in the afternoon.
This is when everything really gets turned upside down. My husband and I got into a room, I changed into a gown, and the nurse drew blood and I was hooked up to a monitor. I will never forget this next moment… our nurse walked into the room with a very disheartened look on her face and said that my platelets were too low to have an epidural, and we would have to continue with the induction without one. I was very surprised and disappointed that my doctor had not come in to discuss this or any of my options moving forward. There is an increased risk with bleeding if you get an epidural with low platelets, and my platelet count was below the threshold that the anesthesiologist was comfortable with. This is something we were not prepared for. I have since requested copies of my medical records from my pregnancy and delivery (something I highly recommend!!!), and low platelets were noted in my records, but never shared with me during any prenatal visit. This is a condition called gestational thrombocytopenia that can occur during pregnancy. All I knew about pitocin at the time was that the contractions were strong, close together, and your body was not able to “deal” with the pain in the same way as it can with naturally occurring contractions. I was terrified. My nurse hooked me up to the pitocin, started at a low dose that increased throughout the afternoon, and we were on our way to meeting our baby. I was not even 1cm when I was induced, and due to the induction being pushed back, my OB decided to skip any other induction medications and go straight to the pitocin. Maybe 30 minutes later, an anesthesiologist came in looking very somber. He shared that I had signs of preeclampsia and would need to have an emergency cesarean under general anesthesia because of the low platelets. Ok, now even more terrifying! Luke and I decided to just go through with the emergency cesarean and tell our families after the fact as to not add additional stress. We then called our nurse, and she came in looking very confused. The doctor had the wrong patient. Apparently there was another person with the same first name who had this situation occurring. After that we got a slew of apologies from the nurse and the charge nurse, but never from the anesthesiologist.
I was laboring for a few hours on the pitocin and handling the contractions well. I tried using Hypnobabies, but honestly at that point everything had just been turned around and changed up so many times I could not concentrate enough for anything to be effective. My husband and I were halfway through a Walking Dead episode when I felt my water break around 5pm. We were very excited that labor was moving along! However at that point, the contractions intensified immensely. This is definitely when things start getting very fuzzy in my memory. I have very few memories of the entire night as I labored. My husband was amazing, and only left my side to get refills on my ginger ale. When Luke would walk down the hallway to get me a refill, he said the nurses kept their heads down and didn’t look him in the eye. At that point they had been hearing me throughout the night. I remember the only way I could get through a contraction was to “catch” it as it was beginning. I developed a breathing pattern that worked as well as it could. If I didn’t get ahead of the contraction, I would just bear down and scream through it. Due to the pitocin, the contractions would come a few at a time, and I do remember watching the monitor and seeing a new contraction starting and just feeling completely defeated. As the pain and intensity of the contractions increased, the nurse offered a pain medicine called Stadol. She said that this would help take the edge off of the contractions, but I could only get 2 doses so I had to really wait until I was ready to use it. I was progressing, and at 4cm at about 7pm. Luke was so fantastic supporting me during this time, I honestly don’t remember most of it. I did decide to go ahead with the Stadol at some point, and Luke said I would be very out of it in between contractions, and then wake up and begin working and breathing through them. At around 9pm I was at 6cm. Things continued on, I was at 7cm at 12:30am, and at 9cm at 2:30am. The nurses were fantastic, but Luke did so much work. I was bleeding and passing clots throughout labor, and he changed countless chuck pads. He helped me walk to the bathroom, we very quickly learned how to unstrap and restrap on the fetal monitor. I stayed at 9cm for hours and hours, and my OB decided to turn off the pitocin around 8am to just take a break and see what was happening. I had been stuck at 9cm for about 6 hours still having intense contractions. At that point, Luke and I were both exhausted, I was in so much pain and the contractions were so non-stop, I couldn’t even talk or form a thought until the pitocin wore off. In between contractions, the pressure from the baby’s head in my pelvis was so intense, it hurt just as much as the contractions did. My OB decided to take my blood one more time to run the platelet count to see if there was a change. This time, they had gone up slightly and there was an anesthesiologist willing to do the epidural. Our amazing nurse waited outside of the OR to grab him as soon as he was out to come to us. I will never forget him walking in and saying “Normally I’d have the patient just tough it out at this point”. Wow. So I got an epidural around 9:30am, and my OB decided to let me rest for a few hours and then come back and check for progress. Luke and I slept for 4 hours and it was one of the highlights of the whole experience. At 3:00pm, I was finally at 10cm and ready to push.
I remember being so excited and determined when it was time to push. Our nurse was great and coached me through how and when to push. At that point, I was loving the epidural and didn’t want to feel anything so I was relying completely on the nurse and monitor to tell me when to push. The machine that gives the epidural stopped working at some point, but was fixed quickly. So one hour passed, still pushing, then two hours, then three hours. At 3 hours, the OB came in (she had been checking in periodically) and gave me 30 more minutes to get this baby out. In retrospect, I think she knew he wasn’t coming. Due to the epidural, I was on my back in the hospital bed and did not try any other positions to push. After 3.5 hours of pushing, the OB called it and said it was time for a cesarean. Luke texted our family, who had been in the waiting room since I started pushing. There was an emergency cesarean who had to go in before us, so we were pushed back a little bit. We were well known in the L&D unit at this point since everyone on the floor had heard me screaming for the past 24 hours. A few nurses on the floor came in to say hi and check in while I was being prepped for surgery. We went through our third and final shift change, which made for our 4th nurse, and then it was time to go to the OR. The cesarean went fine, and our sweet baby BOY was born at 9:10pm. He was 9lb. 1oz. Luke texted pictures to our family, but waited to tell them the gender until he went down in person. Our baby boy, Cole, had aspirated some meconium so he went to the NICU for an hour for monitoring. We are incredibly grateful that Cole was so healthy after such a long, traumatic labor and birth. Luke split the next hour between Cole, our family in the waiting room, and me in recovery. After about an hour, the nurse brought Cole to me and the three of us made our way to the recovery room. It breaks my heart that Cole spent the first hour of his life away from me and Luke. I still look back on Cole’s birth and just feel sad that I don’t remember most of it. I don’t remember him coming out, or his first cry, or who said, “It’s a boy”. I was so looking forward to skin to skin, and breastfeeding for the first time, and those other precious first moments, and I didn’t get them. Luke remembers, so I still ask him questions about what happened from time to time.
Once Luke, Cole, and I had settled into the recovery room, our families visited for a few minutes around midnight. I remember asking repeatedly when I could nurse Cole, it had been 4+ hours since he was born, and the nurse kept saying his sugars were too high or low (I can’t remember), so he kept getting heel pricks until they were stable. Then I could finally nurse, which I also don’t remember. Another nurse came in a few times throughout the night, and would wake me up to ask when she could take Cole for a bath. At some point I just said to take him. None of those first hours with him went like I had imagined or hoped.
Recovering emotionally from my birth has been a process that I am continuing to work through. I feel like so many things were taken away from me during my birth, and with information from the medical records, I also feel like I wasn’t given all of the information necessary for me to make a completely informed decision regarding the induction. Once I was in the hospital and in labor, I was unable to have any sort of conversation with my OB regarding interventions being used or any questions or concerns that arose due to the pain. There is so much that I wish I did differently looking back, but I am getting to the point of feeling that we made the best decisions we could with the information we had, and after going through so many interventions. The night following Cole’s birth is a complete blur, I remember so little of his actual birth and the first few hours of his life. I was so physically and mentally exhausted that I just wanted to eat and sleep. Requesting my medical records is something that I really recommend for anyone who has similar feelings. I requested records from the hospital, and my prenatal records from the OB office.
I recently read an article in support of women whose births did not go as planned. She drew the comparison to a graduation ceremony. No one would ever tell a recent graduate who missed graduation that it didn’t matter because they still graduated. It is acknowledged that the act of walking across the stage is a hugely significant, once-in-a-lifetime experience. Even though you still have a degree, you still missed that moment in time that you can never get back or recreate. That is how I feel, that the birth I wanted and the first hours of my son’s life were taken from me.
I am able to look back and think of some of the things that went well. Even though I disagree with a lot of the decisions our OB made during the whole process, I do remember her putting my hair in a ponytail, which was nice. The nurse that was with us during the cesarean asked me what Pandora station I wanted to listen to during Cole’s birth. This is one of my favorite memories. He was born when one of my absolute favorite songs was playing - “Wagon Wheel” by Old Crow Medicine Show (originally by Bob Dylan - fun fact). Our nurse that was with us while I was pushing came and visited a few days later when we were recovering. This quote has also helped me process through many of my feelings regarding my birth experience and how I am moving forward. “Perhaps this is the moment for which you were created” Esther 4:14. I am in the process of starting an ICAN chapter in my area, and look forward to connecting with other mothers who are also recovering from their birth experiences. So while everything did not go as planned, and there are moments that I regret and moments I will never get back, I continue to focus on healing from the experience, being proactive in planning for future births, and growing a community of support in my area. My goal in writing this is so that other mothers going through a similar experience feel supported and understood. It’s so frustrating to hear repeatedly that a healthy baby is all that matters. While this is true to a degree, what happens to a mother during birth is also an important, life altering experience that should be respected.
I'm Katie! I live near Annapolis, MD with my husband (Luke), son (Cole, 1.5), dog (Patrick), and 6 chickens. I was a special education teacher for 8 years, and am now a behavior specialist for a local school system. I'm also a vegan and all about that lifestyle, while my husband is an avid hunter and fisher. When Cole goes to bed, I enjoy crocheting, drinking wine, and watching "The Office". Instagram: @theherbivoreathome Facebook: Katie Peternel
Today I'm doing a spotlight on The Noble Paperie. Similar to the one I did a while ago with I Had a Miscarriage, Kate created a company of greeting cards targeted towards parents of loss. Kate has been through a lot of trauma in motherhood and in dealing with her heartache she noticed the same void in the card market that Jessica noticed. Instead of ignoring that void, Kate turned her heartache into something beautiful and purposeful. She created a line of support cards for The Noble Paperie.
Kate was kind enough to send me some samples of her products and I cant enunciate enough how well made they are. The quality is so high and the details are so thoughtful (the back of every card has a custom design!). You can tell that she takes care and pride in each design that she creates.
Some of her cards are filled with heartfelt words and other use humor to help mend the wound. And if you're like me, humor is the way to my heart. And also adult beverages ;) So the options are a welcomed detail of her shop.
A portion of the profits from these cards goes to Miracle Babies, a charity whose mission is to provide support and financial assistance to families with critically-ill newborns in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit; and to enhance the well-being of women, children and their families through education, prevention and medical care. If the cards weren't great enough on their own, I'm all about supporting am amazing cause.
In the next coming days I will be sharing more of Kates personal story that lead to the creation of these cards. I'm so thankful for people like Kate who use their own personal struggles to help others. I hope you check back and follow along with her journey and that you use her shop to help comfort parent in need. Sometimes just a small 'hey, I'm thinking about you." can make a huge difference in someone's grieving process.
With that I will leave you with The Noble Paperie's mission statement
"Our mission is to spread joy and hope to those with a mama’s heart, who are struggling through miscarriage, infertility, and other pregnancy-related issues. We believe that becoming a mother starts when you prepare your heart to have children – not the actual manifestation of a child. Our paper products are designed with love and care to support, advocate for, and inspire a community to live with joy through the journey."
A collection of posts from different humans all over the world, sharing their stories about the struggles they have faced in their individual journeys to motherhood.