Why I don't deal in statistics

I watched the ABC story tonight about Randy Pausch, who is dying of terminal cancer. Something he said really spoke to me when I thought about Cesarean Awareness Month. He said not to tell people how to live their lives. “Tell them stories,” he said. They’ll figure out how your story applies to their lives.

Just tell me your story. Tell an OB your story. Tell another mother your story. Or a nurse. Or your blog readers. Or your colleagues. Tell your daughter.

Leave the statistics, for now, to the scientists. They’ll spin statistics any which way they want to anyway.

A cesarean is more than an unnecessary or a life-saving surgery. It’s more than a mother strapped to a table or seeing your baby over that screen for the first time. It’s more than life or death. It’s more than right or wrong. A cesarean is a story that begins a life, and whether we like it or not, a mother who makes a decision to have a cesarean is choosing what she believes to be the safest birth for her baby.

If we want to reach mothers and really impact positive change, we need to tell our stories. If I tell a mother that statistics show women are less likely to have more children after a cesarean, she’ll just tell me that she had five children and five c-sections and she’s “just fine.” So what you need to say instead is that you had a c-section and experienced secondary infertility, or that you labored with Pitocin, had a ruptured uterus and a hysterectomy and now you can’t have more children. Or simply say you had a cesarean and now you’re scared to do it again, so you don’t have any more children.


There are so many choices to make each time you begin the journey to motherhood. Many of the choices aren’t easy ones to make. I think one of our goals should be to help mothers make these choices out of love, instead of fear. A mother should not be scared into a cesarean by words such as, “your baby is too big”, “your uterus will explode,” or “your baby is overdue”. Our children, and their children, are counting on us to protect normal, healthy birth. Nothing in life is without risks. Even with a cesarean, there are risks. Sometimes a c-section is the only way (placenta previa, for example). Sometimes it is necessary but preventable (induction on due date, epidural, mom immobilized, baby’s heart rate crashes). Sometimes, it’s just plain unnecessary (unreliable 38 week ultrasound says baby is over 8lbs so a section is scheduled for 39 weeks, and baby is born weighing just 7lbs).

Should I need to see an OB for a future pregnancy, I would ask her to hear my stories. I would tell her that I had a c-section and it made me cry. I’d tell her that it hurt my feelings that she and her colleagues talked over my naked body like I wasn’t there. I would tell her that she was a good surgeon and my physical scar healed nicely, but that inside I still hurt. I would tell her that more than anything, what I want from my pregnancy and labor care provider is to be listened to, loved and treated with respect.




Don’t let your voice fade or your story be forgotten.

for more information about cesareans, cesarean awareness, or VBACs please visit ICAN

Dear baby sister

This post will contain many Christian references. If that makes you uncomfortable I apologize, but my faith plays a significant part in my birthing philosophy. If my Savior can be born on a dusty floor among smelly livestock, then surely my children can be born in the comfort and safety of our home.

I’ve wanted to write this to you for a year now and just haven’t found the time. Or maybe I had the time and the words just wouldn’t come to me the way I hoped they would. I wanted you to know what an impact your pregnancy and the loss of your son have had on my life.

I’ve heard many times that when a teenage girl loses her baby, it must be “God’s punishment” for her being sexually active outside of marriage. I wholeheartedly disagree. First, “children are an heritage of the LORD: and the fruit of the womb is his reward” (Psalms 127:3 KJV). He would never use a child to punish someone. Second, I believe that if any “punishment” is necessary, the trials of raising a child at 15 should serve as punishment enough.

There was an article in ParentLife magazine this month that really spoke to me when I thought about you and your son. The author writes, “He was ready for [him] to join Him in heaven, and He chose you to carry out [his] fate because He knew you’d be strong enough to handle it.” The Lord didn’t give you a son and then take him to punish you. A child is a blessing, whether you’re 15 or 40. I hope you don’t find this selfish on my part, but for me, Izaiah’s life and death helped me on my second pregnancy journey. After having had such a horrifying pregnancy and c-section with Sarah, my faith in God and faith in His creation of birth was severely shaken. Broken. I said I wanted to give birth to my son at home, and the way I was designed to give birth, but in my heart I didn’t really believe that would happen. I didn’t think I could do it and I didn’t think the Lord would help me.

If Izaiah’s death was not to punish you, then what was the purpose? What was the purpose of his short little life? It was no accident that mom wasn’t free to take you do the doctor the day you found out Izaiah had died. It wasn’t an accident that I was a stay-at-home-mom and everyone else in the family either worked or was at school that morning. The Lord purposed for my hand to be the one holding yours when the doctor walked in to tell us. Then to see you laboring that night, and all the next day for a baby who would never see your face, spoke to my soul. The Lord protected you through a terrible day and a half pitocin-induced labor. He gave you grace and peace. Before you got the epidural, and you were feeling your body painfully hug your sweet departed son, you never yelled out to anyone, “just take this dead baby out of me!” No one would have blamed you if you had. Labor can be painful even when the mother knows there is a sweet reward waiting just on the other side. For only sadness and pain to be awaiting you, everyone would have understood.

Then two months later, my son was conceived. A son, just like yours. How could I not have faith after witnessing your trial? Could I honestly say that the Lord protected a 15 year old girl through trying pregnancy and death of her son, but would not protect me as I birthed my son at home after having had a cesarean? I did worry during my pregnancy. I worried that my son would die before I saw his face. But then I would think about you and Izaiah, and I would trust the Lord. I would think about your love for your son, and the Father’s love for you, and I would trust Him.

I pray that I will never truly know your loss, and I pray that the Lord will continually teach you and draw you closer to him through it. I thank the Lord often for Izaiah’s life and death. Izaiah’s death and Caleb’s birth have taken me to a place in my relationship with the Lord that would not have been possible otherwise. I hope, I hope… that this can bring some comfort to you sister.

Have a Happy Labor

See? Labor can be fun!

9cm, (as yet) unmedicated, approximately 40th hour of labor
This was a planned homebirth (after cesarean), turned hospital transfer because we just couldn't get the little guy to come out! He was in a very bad position and neither he, nor my midwife, nor I could fix it. Something about that drive to the hospital though, for what everyone assumed would be a repeat-C, got him squared away. The thought of that knife again just scared my little man right out of me!

Why are women scared of childbirth?

Why did Christina Aguilera schedule a non-medically necessary cesarean? Why did Brittney Spears, Madonna, Claudia Schiffer, Denise Richards Victoria Beckham? Why, for that matter, does any woman schedule so-called “patient choice” cesareans?

Look in the mirror. When you speak about the births of your children, what do you say? Sadly, the only positive things most woman say about their births are “the epidural worked great, didn’t feel a thing!” or “well, at least the baby was healthy”. Why do we, as a society, insist on perpetuating the fear and pain of childbirth? Troubled as she may currently be, read what Brittney Spears had to say way back when, regarding the upcoming birth of her first child: “I don't want to go through the pain. My mom said giving birth was the most excruciating thing she's ever gone through in her life.” Shame on you, Mrs. Spears.

When I was pregnant with my first child all I ever heard were pregnancy and birth horror stories. Am I saying we should all just lie to each other about birth? No. For most women it’s not all sunshine and roses, but it’s not the end of the world, either. Some would argue that women are scared of childbirth because it’s a “great unknown”. I would say it’s because of what they think they know, based on every horror story you or I have ever told.

“But vbac,” I hear you saying, “you scare us with your c-section horror stories all the time. Aren’t you being a bit hypocritical?”

Nope. I wish we had more voices out there scaring women out of medically unnecessary sections. For those who hear my horror stories, but need (or think they need) a section anyway… don’t worry too much. My story had a mostly happy ending. (but tell that to the several women last year who died following their sections)

Had a great fall

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
And all the king's horses
And all the king's men



Couldn't put Humpty together again.


January 12, 2005
10:27 p.m.
3lbs, 10oz 16 inches
37 weeks, 1 day


Today is a day of mourning. Tomorrow will be a day of celebration.

Happy Birthday, Baby

Happy Birthday, Baby!

January 12, 2005

Life at our house is going to be very busy for the next several days so I'm going to post this a few days early. Saturday, January 12, 2008 is my daughter's third birthday. She has become such a precocious little firecracker. Gosh, I love her so much! So much. That's why it hurts me even more that each year her birthday is stained a bit by the horrible circumstances surrounding her entrance into the world. Below is her birth video (updated last night) and a letter to my scar.

Make an on-line slide show at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Dear Scar,

We've been together now for 3 years. I have yet to touch you comfortably (physically and emotionally), but see and think of you often. I think you're hideous, and long. You invaded my body, I didn't want you, and now I'm stuck with you forever.

Most of the time I'm mad at you. I hate you. I hate what you stand for. I hate that you were the primary concern of the hospital staff, instead of my emotional health and comfort. No one cared about me. They cared about you. Then, when I came home from the hospital, no one wanted to see you. I think you scared them. No one wanted to see because whether they admit it or not, you symbolize a horribly violent, bloody, unnatural way for a baby to enter our world. You disgust me.

And yet... and yet your presence has also brought positive change to my life. I used to think of myself as a weak person. Now, after enduring all the physical and emotional pain you brought into my life, I know that I am very strong. I am strong for myself, for my husband and for my two sweet babies.

When I became pregnant with my second child, people began to think of you again. They said I should just have you opend up and have my baby taken out of my womb again. Why not?-they said. You already have the scar, just open it up again. No big deal.

I refused to give you that power over my body, my life and my baby. Not this time. Not ever again. My life will not be dictated by you, Scar.

You stand for all that is wrong with childbirth in this country today and I am ashamed that you are a part of my body.

Sincerely,

vbacwarrior

I am, I love, I leave...

I know....my body was “beautifully and wonderfully made”
I believe...birth is safe
I fought....postpartum depression
I am angered....by trigger happy OBs and vbac bans
I love....each of my children
I need....someone to cry with
I take.....to heart all the birth stories I’ve been privileged to hear
I hear....mothers who are demanding change
I drink...a toast to the glory of birth
I hate.....the phrase “you should be grateful”
I use.....my blog to rage against the birth machine
I want......the midwifery model to be the standard of care in the United States
I like......Ron Paul
I feel.....like I’m not being heard
I wear.....a long, thin, purple scar on my lower abdomen
I left....the woman I was on a cold steel table 3 years ago
I hope....my two pregnant sisters avoid the knife
I dream.... of a day when birth is honored and respected
I drive....a minivan with an “ICAN VBAC” bumper sticker on it
I think.....therefore I push
I wish.... women knew how much they were being abused by modern maternity “care”
I am....a young mother with a fading physical scar and an everlasting emotional scar
I regret.........I regret
I care...about mothers and babies
I said.... “an OB cut me so every year around this time I feel the need to spill my guts"
I wonder....if women will ever realize that they’re not broken
I cry...when a mother tells me she was cut
I lose....the ability to see straight whenever I read “my doctor won’t let me…”

I leave...my sisters and daughters with a legacy of trust in birth, informed choices, and

love

Babyectomy

Surgical removal of tonsils: tonsillectomy
Surgical removal of appendix: appendectomy
Surgical removal of breasts: mastectomy
Surgical removal of uterus: hysterectomy
Surgical removal of baby: babyectomy


Yes, a cesarean is surgery!
Following is the actual surgical report from my cesarean. That's right, with a
cesarean "birth"... there are no "warm fuzzy" moments. It's all about "stab incisions" and organs being extracted from your body. I'm putting this here because had I known exactly what was involved in a standard surgical birth, I would have asked more questions
and made certain preferences clear. Emphasis added.

The patient (you're not a woman, a mother, or even a human being, you are simply a "patient") was taken to the operating room where spinal anesthesia (you know, that huge needle they stick in your spine after you sign a form saying that if you become paralyzed or die that you and your family won't sue) was introduced without complication. The patient was then prepped and draped in the usual sterile manner(because there are TONS of nasty germs in a hospital and they're getting ready to cut you open and you wouldn't want an infection. That's why hospitals are for SICK people. Not pregnant people).

The abdomen was entered via Pfannenstiel incision, which was extended to the fascia via sharp dissection (ooo... doesn't that make you feel nice??). Hemostasis was assured via cautery. The fascia was incised and this incision extended. The remainder of the fascia was taken down in the usual manner.
The midline was identified and entered without complication. The lower uterine
segment was identified and bladder flap was created inferiorly (Your
bladder is "in the way" so to speak, so they have to move it.
I'm sure it's impossible to get it back in the exact same position
it was in, so NEVER let a doctor tell you that a cesarean will ensure that you won't suffer from incontinence). The uterus was entered via stab incision (don't you just picture some mad scientist stabbing you in the gut when you hear that? I know I do...), which was extended sharply. The membranes ruptured and clear fluid was noted. The head of the infant was delivered;
the nares and mouth were suctioned well, and the remainder of the
infant was delivered without complication. The infant was carried
over to the neonatologist. The placenta was manually extracted,
the uterus was delivered into the abdominal incision, and the
endometrial cavity was cleansed. (This last sentence means
that they actually TOOK MY UTERUS OUT OF MY BODY
and plopped it up on my abdomen. That's the common thing to
do. They like to dig around inside your body and see what's
going on.)

The uterine incision was then closed in two layers, first being a running
interlocking layer of #1 chromic, second being a running, imbricating
layer of the same. Hemostasis was assured via cautery as well as
suture of 2-0 chromic. When hemostasis was assured, the uterus
was returned to the abdominal cavity. The gutters were cleansed
of clot and debris. Hemostasis was assured and the bladder flap
was reapproximated using 2-0 chromic in a running fashion.
Hemostasis was assured and the gutters again were cleansed
of clot and debris. Copious irrigation was done. Hemostasis
was assured and the peritoneum was closed using #0 chromic
in a running fashion. The subfascial layer was made hemostatic
and the fascia was reapproximated using 0 Vicryl in a running
fashion. Hemostasis was assured of the subcutaneous layer
which was reapproximated using 3-0 plain in an interrupted
fashion. Hemostasis was further assured and the skin was
reapproximated using 3-0 Vicryl in a running, subcuticular
fashion. Estimated blood loss was 600 cc. Complications
were none.

**Note: They don't consider depression, a huge gash on
your abdomen, breastfeeding failure, not being able to
walk on your own or without pain, nightmares, etc to be
"complications".

The Charade

Sarah's birth video and poem

*interesting note: I let one of my brothers read this poem several months ago and he asked me, "does an oyster die when it's shucked?" Yes, it does.

Make an on-line slideshow at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Shucked

To think of myself as an animal

led to the slaughter

not really choosing

They stripped me

they shaved me

they shot me

full of fear

so I'd be losing

All the feeling

but the feeling never goes

I heard 'oh you won't feel anything'

when I couldn't move my toes

First the

needle

then the

knife

and they say that it's all right

they say I'll feel some tugging

but I don't, I just feel nothing

I was screened from my body

it's bloody

the baby, where's my baby

there's the baby

could be anybody's baby

They take it away

and I'm left on the table

I want to be happy

but right now I'm not able

To see past the blood and the light

and the screen

strapped to a table

the end of the dream

Gutted and cold

in pain and alone

unable to speak, or to cry or

to moan

But the

hate

and the

anger

and the

pain

will subside

after I've grieved

after I've cried

I won't have the nightmares

or wake with such fright

I'll think back and smile

on that terrifying night

This new wrinkly baby

so tiny and pink

at that moment all I could

think

Of was my pain and

my fear

but what about you?

so cold and so scared

so little, so new

I hold you and my scar

and I know what to do

I'll weep and I'll mourn

then I'll tuck it away

doesn't mean it's not there

but I'll keep it at bay

So now when I think about how

my baby came into this world

I choose to think of myself as an oyster

and my beautiful baby

the pearl.

* * * * * *

I was going to share my son's birth poem and video but I'll save that for another day because right now I want to talk about the last two stanzas of this poem. Why did I feel the need to "make nice" at the end? Is it that little voice inside of me, the one that after hearing so many people chide me for hating my section-surgery, finally starts to agree and say tie the laces neatly at the end. be a good girl and play nice, now. This poem should end with the line, "Unable to speak or to cry or to moan". What upsets me most is that this poem was written six months after the surgery and it wasn't written to share with anyone. If I had written it with the intent of sharing it then I could understand why I felt the need to basically negate all my strong, painful feelings by including that crap about the pain subsiding and tucking my scar away.

Here's my point: This poem was a personal poem, written for myself. After just six months of hearing "you should be grateful" I had already begun to internalize that and guilt my true feelings away. How many women are out there, two, three, ten years out from their section-surgeries, who initially were very much not okay with it, but then after hearing that they should be grateful for a healthy baby and that just being alive was all that mattered and that it doesn't really matter how a baby comes out. . . and now they live among us disguised as "I loved my section" women? How many of these women are out there? It's a sad, bizarre charade.

Mothers, don't hide behind your "My section wasn't that bad" mask. Because those who believe you are following you down the hall to the operating room, and those of us who don't believe you hurt for you.

If you would like more information about cesarean awareness and prevention please visit www.ican-online.org

The Wound That Can't Be Stitched

An OB cut my abdomen and now every year around this time I feel the need to spill my guts. This post is probably going to get (verbally) violent. In real life I'm a very nice young mother who loves her husband and her children dearly. Please know that today, however, I am speaking from my scar.


If you've noticed my counter box to the right then you know that my daughter's third birthday and the third anniversary of my section-surgery is just ten days away. Do you know that I haven't even cried about my section yet? Not once. I teared up a little while telling my "birth" history to my midwife, but that's about it. I WANT TO CRY! Desperately.

As my doula was driving me to the hospital to get cut she told me that everything was going to be fine. I told her I wasn't scared about the baby dying, I was scared that I was going to die. I didn't cry then. I didn't cry as I waddled under the blood-red EMERGENCY ROOM sign, or as I was handed a Property of Baptist Hospital gown and sent to the bathroom to change. When nobody could adequately explain to me exactly why it was that I was going to be cut, and as everyone stood around the hospital bed staring at the beeping machine I was attached to, and as my husband just STOOD there as I was wheeled past him down that ammonia-mopped floor. I didn't cry. When I was in that room with the metal table, needles, machines, masks and knives I didn't even cry. A needle in my arm, didn't cry. A needle in my spine, didn't cry. A pinch to see if I was numb, didn't cry. My arms tied down, a drape over my chest, not being able to feel myself breathe, I didn't cry.

The surgeon didn't even talk to me. I could have been a dead cow on that butcher block for all she cared. Maybe it's because I didn't cry. Maybe if I'd have cried she would have realized I was actually a real, live person with feelings and she was about to cut into me and leave a wound that she would be forever blind to and that would never heal. Maybe...

Then afterwards the morphine made me outwardly giddy and so no one knew that inside I was numb and horrified and dead. You're not allowed to have morphine forever so the next day I was weaned from the poison and given little white pills that were supposed to help. You have a new baby and white pills and sterile sheets so everything is wonderful and you should be so grateful. I didn't cry then because it physically hurt to cry. I was afraid that if I cried my stitches would burst open and I'd bleed all over the pretty white sheets, and everyone would know that I hadn't been a good little girl.

So I was a good little girl, took the pills, didn't complain and healed "nicely". I have a cute little scar to prove it. In the following weeks as I battled to nurse my baby and my scar I was too weak, weary and depressed to cry. The fear of my incision ripping open haunted me for well over a year.

Now here I am. It's January 2, 2008 and nearly three years after my section-surgery. I haven't "gotten over it", nor will I ever. I think that's fine and I don't believe it's unhealthy. I have since had a few birthdays (taking me to my mid-twenties and then a smidge beyond) and a vbac. While I didn't choose to have my son to help me heal from my section-surgery, I did wholeheartedly believe that it would. It didn't. It was a pretty good birth (though it was a planned homebirth turned hospital transfer) and I felt absolutely wonderful afterwards. With my section, I didn't know what birth was supposed to be and how fun it could be. All I knew was that I was robbed of something and that both my baby and I suffered because of it. After my vbac I saw what birth was supposed to be like. It made me mad! So, my daughter and I were robbed of THIS?! I was angry, outraged, shocked, sad. . . but I still couldn't cry.

I know those tears are inside of me. I feel them every day. They burn and they ache. I'm afraid that if I begin crying, I won't be able to stop. Because my pain is never going to go completely away, so why should my tears?

Our Battle

Top 5 Most Underreported Birth Stories of 2007

Following the lead of Time.com’s “Top 10 Most Underreported Stories of 2007” I thought we could take a look at our country’s top 5 most underreported birth stories of 2007. So, here it is:

Top 5 Most Underreported Birth Stories of 2007

A year-end review brought to you by www.nowombpods.blogspot.com

5. An Orlando mother goes into hospital to give birth and leaves without her arms or legs.

(http://www.wftv.com/news/6253589/detail.html)

The birth for this mother was smooth. It’s what happened afterwards that left her unable to hold or care for her newborn. Claudia Mejia went into a hospital to give birth but when she left the hospital, her arms and legs stayed behind. She is now a quadruple amputee and the hospital refuses to tell her why. She was told she had streptococcus and toxic shock syndrome but the hospital will not tell her how she contracted them. It is unlikely Ms. Mejia would have contracted the illnesses had her baby been born at home.

4. A Florida woman dies following induction of labor.

(http://www.sptimes.com/2007/05/19/news_pf/Tampabay/Why_she_died_a_puzzle.shtml)

Caroline Wiren was a young, healthy mother who was excited by the upcoming birth of her child. She touched his head, told her mother to tell the baby that she loved him, and then she was gone. Mrs. Wiren had her labor induced just seven days past her baby’s due date, even though it is common for a woman’s first child to be born as much as two weeks after the given due date.

According to http://www.medpagetoday.com/OBGYN/Pregnancy/dh/4334, one possible complication of induction of labor is amniotic-fluid embolism, which can lead to death.

3. 3. Two New Jersey women die just days apart following their cesarean surgeries.

http://www.nownj.org/njnews/2007/0518%20Moms%20decry%20high%20N.J.%20C-section%20rate.htm

Two young, healthy mothers entered a hospital in New Jersey to give birth to their babies. Both had cesareans and both were dead within days. The mothers leave behind two beautiful, absolutely healthy baby girls. This raises the question: then why the surgery?

2. The most updated birth data from the CDC shows that the cesarean rate in the United States has risen to 31.1%.

(http://www.cdc.gov/nchs/data/nvsr/nvsr56/nvsr56_07.pdf)

This latest number (from 2006) represents a 10.4% increase from ten years ago, and a 3% increase from the previous year. The report also indicates that the percentage of low birthweight babies and preterm babies is on the rise. Consumer Reports names the cesarean as one of the 10 most overused tests and treatments (http://www.consumerreports.org/cro/health-fitness/health-care/medical-ripoffs-11-07/10-overused-tests-and-treatments/medical-ripoffs-ten-over_1.htm).

For more information on cesarean awareness and prevention, please visit www.ican-online.org

1. United States ranks among lowest of developed nations in terms of newborn death rates. (http://www.cnn.com/2006/HEALTH/parenting/05/08/mothers.index/index.html)

According to Save the Children researchers, infants in the United States are more than three times as likely to die within their first 24 hours as infants in born in Japan. The United States has the second highest IMR (infant mortality rate) in the developed world. Latvia is the only developed country with a higher IMR than the U.S.

Common drugs given to women in labor

Common drugs given to women in labor

(all information below may be found at www.safefetus.com)

Stadol

• Limited human data.
• Use of the drug during labor may cause sinusoidal fetal heart pattern without fetal hypoxia or neonatal adverse effects.
• Prolonged use of the drug may cause neonatal withdrawal symptoms.
• (www.safefetus.com)

Demerol (Meperidine)

• Crosses the placenta.
• Maternal addiction causes neonatal withdrawal.
• No adequate data in first trimester exposure but reported association with inguinal hermia, polydactyly and hypospadias.
• Causes neonatal respiratory depression if used in labor.
• Because of slow elimination of the drug from the neonate, impaired behavioral response and EEG changes may persist for several days.
• (www.safefetus.com)

Cytotec and Pitocin (used for induction of labor)

cytotec

• Positive evidence of human fetal risk exists.
• Potential benefits may warrant use of the drug in pregnant women despite potential risks (e.g. life threatening situations or serious illness).
• Studies in animals and/or humans have demonstrated fetal abnormalities.
• Fetal risk involved in use of drug, clearly outweighs potential benefit.
• Contraindicated in women who are or may become pregnant. Don’t use.
• Not teratogenic, mutagenic or toxic in animals.
• Contraindicated in pregnancy because it induces abortion.
• Following unsuccessful first trimester abortion, it is teratogenic producing limb, digital, skull defects, gastroschisis, bilateral palsy of cranial nerves (moebius sequence) and cleft lip and palate. Alll the anomalies were attributed to misoprostol-induced fetal vascular disruption.

pitocin

• Contraindicated during pregnancy because it causes abortion.
• It can cause fetal bradycardia, neonatal retinal hemorrhage and neonatal jaundice.
• If administered to hypertensive patients or in excessive amounts it can cause tetanic contractions resulting in abruptio placenta, and fetal trauma including cardiac arrythmia, intracranial hemorrhage and asphyxia.

Morphine

• Crosses human placenta rapidly.
• No adequate data in first trimester exposure but reported association with inguinal hernia after anytime use during pregnancy.
• Chronic maternal use of the drug causes neonatal withdrawal and respiratory depression.

fentanyl and sufentanil, ropivacaine (Naropin) or lidocaine (Xylocaine) (most common drugs put in the epidural)

fentanyl:

• Can cause loss of fetal heart rate variability without hypoxia.
• With epidural fentanyl, neonatal respiratory depression may occur.

ropivacaine (Naropin):

• Not teratogenic in animals.
• Crosses human placenta.
• No adequate human data, but use of this agent for analgesia during labor and delivery may result in maternal hypotension, fetal hypotension, bradycardia, tachycardia and fetal distress and neonatal cardiovascular and neurologic effects, jaundice, respiratory depression, fever, tachypnea and vomiting.

lidocaine (Xylocaine)

· No adequate and well-controlled studies done on pregnant women.

nalbuphine (Nubain)

• Not teratogenic in animals.
• Crosses human placenta.
• No adequate data in 1st trimester of human pregnancy, but no association with congenital anomalies has been reported.
• Chronic use of the drug in pregnancy can cause neonatal with drawal.
• Use of Nalbuphine in labor may cause fetal distress, sinusoidal fetal heart rate pattern with variable decelerations, neonatal respiratory depression.

Not Just Another Way to Give Birth

WARNING! There are some very graphic pictures in this slide show. If it bothers you, then please feel free to turn away. Know, though, that those of us pictured here (myself included) can never turn away from our pain and our grief. Our fear. Our loss.

Your Pelvis Is Too Small

Have you ever been told by a doctor that your pelvis is too small to give birth vaginally? Did you labor with your baby, only to be told you have CPD and would need a cesarean in order to get your baby out?

CPD stands for cephelopelvic disproportion. In true cases, this means that the pelvis is too small for a baby to pass through. True CPD can only be diagnosed after a trial of labor because women's bodies are amazing, and the pelvis stretches and opens to allow passage of the baby through. Also, babies' bodies are amazing, and their heads mold to make this passage easier.

As you will see in the video below, CPD may also stand for "care provider doesn'tknowwhathe'stalkingabout". Each woman you will meet in this video was told she had CPD and would never be able to give birth vaginally. Each of them went on to give birth vaginally, most times to a baby much larger than the one their doctors said would never fit through their pelvises.

It Happens

It happens every day. Somewhere. To someone. To a mama. To a baby. To women. To a family. To a nation. We can't ignore it and we have to change it.



Woman burned during c-section

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aIeUWmtFwds

A Bakersfield woman goes to a local hospital to give birth, but catches on fire during delivery. The woman says it happened at San Joaquin Community Hospital last year. To make matters worse she says neither the hospital nor the doctor will take responsibility for what happened.



Two New Jersey women die after their c-sections
http://www.philly.com/inquirer/health_science/daily/20070510_Teachers_joined_in_birth__death.html

In March, the staff, students and parents of Avon Elementary School threw a surprise baby shower for teachers Valerie Scythes and Melissa Farah.

Mere weeks later, both young women were dead.

They died, 15 days apart, after delivering by cesarean section at Underwood Memorial Hospital in Woodbury, Gloucester County. They left behind healthy infants - Isabella Rose Scythes and Grace Melissa Farah.

**my note: The World Health Organization (WHO) recommends a cesarean rate of 10-15%. New Jersey’s cesarean rate is 37%.**



American babies are three times more likely to die in their first month as children born in Japan, and newborn mortality is 2.5 times higher in the United States than in Finland, Iceland or Norway, Save the Children researchers found.

Only Latvia, with six deaths per 1,000 live births, has a higher death rate for newborns than the United States, which is tied near the bottom of industrialized nations with Hungary, Malta, Poland and Slovakia with five deaths per 1,000 births.

"The United States has more neonatologists and neonatal intensive care beds per person than Australia, Canada and the United Kingdom, but its newborn mortality rate is higher than any of those countries," said the annual State of the World's Mothers report.
http://www.cnn.com/2006/HEALTH/parenting/05/08/mothers.index/index.html



Infant mortality rate, US: 6.78 (CDC)

Infant mortality rate, Cuba 5.8 (medicc.org)



C-section complications

http://pregnancy.emedtv.com/pregnancy/c-section-complications.html

Bleeding After C-Section

C-Section Scar

Postpartum Depression After C-Section

Infection After Cesarean Section

Wound Breakdown After Cesarean Section

Nerve Injury After Cesarean Section

Medication Risk and Cesarean Section

Uterine Rupture After Cesarean Section

Bladder Injury Following a Cesarean Section

Organ Injury With Cesarean Section

Adhesions and C-Sections

Blood Clots Following a C-Section

Delayed Bowel Function Following a C-Section

Bowel Injury After C-Section

Fetal Injury During a C-Section

Urinary Tract Infection and C-Section




Hear the Hurt

http://www.freewebs.com/birthcut/poetry.htm

Feel the Failure

http://www.freewebs.com/birthcut/cesareanstories.htm

See the Scar (graphic)

http://pregnancy.about.com/od/cesareansection/ig/Cesarean-Scar-Gallery/index.htm



*Then* tell me "it doesn't matter".

How Dare You?

How Dare You?

by vbacwarrior

You said to me:

You're putting the life of yourself, of your child at risk—
How dare you?
What if he dies what if you choke what if they slip—
How dare you?
A selfish thought, and childish to birth at home—
How dare you?
To take responsibility for this child as if he was your own—
How dare you?
And oh by the way, you hate that they cut you?—
How dare you?
So you share with me thinking I'll care what they do—
How dare you?

What I heard you say:

You know what you're doing; you know that you're right—
I'm scared of you
You protect your baby and you're prepared to fight—
I'm scared of you
I'd rather not feel it, wake me up when they're through—
I'm scared of you
You really know so much more than I do—
I'm scared of you
If I sign my name on this paper here, they say—
I'm scared of you
Baby's fine, I'll be safe, I give my responsibility away—
I'm scared of you

What do you want from me? What am I supposed to do?
If you want me to say I'm wrong, or scared, or weak, or okay—
How…dare…you?

To learn more about cesarean prevention, please visit www.ican-online.org

To Ignore Someone Like Me

To learn more about cesarean prevention, please visit www.ican-online.org

I Am Not a Womb Pod!

I have been rather outspoken about birth and cesareans over the last year and I've been met with some harsh criticism, blind ignorance and some very tough, very important questions. I believe those who criticize the loudest are very scared. They don't want to believe that they misplaced their trust, were lied to and possibly made terrible decisions about their pregnancies and births of their babies. "After all," a woman sighs as she painfully limps around her home, trying to nurse both a newborn baby and an ugly, fresh gash on her abdomen, "all that matters is," she winces, "a healthy baby."

Those who blindly follow the seductively deceptive tune of the obstetric pied piper simply hear the music and follow. They don't know where they're headed and they don't care. "My doctor said…" "my doctor won't allow…" "my doctor wants…" Wake up, ladies! You're being lead over a drug-induced cliff and awaiting you at the bottom are slicing rocks and jagged scalpels, not healthy babies and mothers.

Finally, there are those women who ask, "why is it so important how a baby is born? Why does it matter?" This is an excellent question and I have hope for the women who ask it. Just by asking why means a woman is open to more than one answer—possibly answers she wasn't expecting or answers she's uncomfortable with.

Yet, how a baby comes into this world does matter. If a laboring woman enters a hospital, has needles and wires plugged into her with beeping machines to tell her how she's doing, then is strapped to the bed and numbed… what has she become? This once beautiful, powerful, ancient and timeless woman has been reduced to nothing more than an artificial womb. That's frightening, and it's exactly what's happening in modern maternity care around the world. Women are being relegated to the demeaning and insulting task of being living "womb pods".

I will not be a womb pod, and I will keep talking, writing, screaming if necessary, until all womb pods have been "unplugged".

To learn more about cesarean prevention, please visit www.ican-online.org

How I Got Here

This will get a little long, so if you're interested enough to read, you may want to grab a cup of tea and get comfy.

This is not intended to be a "pity party". Simply a little explanation of where I'm coming from, for those of you who've been asking hard questions of me.

In 2004 I was 23 and became pregnant with my first child, a little girl. Everything was fine for the first 5 weeks, then the 6th week, my world fell apart.

I began to have what I thought was morning sickness. It began when I woke in the morning and lasted all day. Often I couldn't even sleep because my head was hanging over the toilet. Those were the good days, the ones where I could camp out in the bathroom with my head on the cool toilet. On the bad days, I couldn't make it off the living room floor and had to simply turn my head to vomit. Eventually though, even the vomiting wasn't that bad because there was no food in my stomach to come up, it was just a yellowish, acidic bile.

I saw several different OBs, but none of them diagnosed my problem. Even though by my 12th week I had lost 30lbs. One OB said it was just morning sickness, another said to suck on a lemon. I bought 6 lbs of lemons and pierced them, one by one, with a fork and sucked...sucked...sucked faithfully.

All during this time, my husband was away on business. When he came home he found me on the living room floor, barely able to lift my head with a towel soaked with bile next to me. He called my OB, who asked when last ate (3 days ago), drank (yesterday), and urinated (couldn't remember). The OB told my husband to take me to the emergency room.

The ER doctor FINALLY diagnosed my problem, hyperemesis gravidarum (HG). It's a pregnancy disease. You can read more about it at http://www.helpher.org/. I was given a drug called Zofran in my iv at the ER, and was able to actually eat before I even left the hospital. It's a VERY expensive drug, but our insurance was wonderful and we only had a small co-pay.
**********************************************************
Here is the poem I wrote about my HG experience:
I am an HG survivor

I’m getting it out I’m getting it out
Rage, scream, cry, tear, punch, shout
I need you to see
Oh, just need you to see
This isn’t the way it was supposed to be
the way—
I wanted
it
to be
The howls, my bowels the vomit and pain
My face in the toilet again and again
Food in and food out and when it was through
Up came my insides, and—
nobody knew
Locked in my house, crushed on the floor
Still up, up it came more—more!
Why didn’t they come
there was no rescue
there was just me and the floor and the bile
and yet you
did nothing
my misery, my torture I—
broken, weak helpless
No one could have cared—
less
And then they cut me
*****************************************************
Even taking the Zofran several times a day, I was getting sick 4 or 5 times a day, until my baby was "born". Shortly after I began taking the Zofran, I began smelling a stench in my house. Nobody else smelled it, but it was so strong that it made me vomit. I literally could not step foot inside my house. My husband and I spent the month of July at his grandmother's beach cottage, then he moved back to our house while I stayed with my grandmother for the month of August. At the end of August my husband borrowed an ozone machine and used it in our house, then I was able to tolerate being inside of it. Then in September we were hit with a devastating hurricane, hurricane Ivan. It was a strong category three and left our city shell-shocked. We were without power for 6 days and had to stand in line for food and water. The national guard patrolled the streets in armored vehicles at night. I was 6 months pregnant.

At the end of October, my baby was diagnosed with intrauterine growth restriction (IUGR). She wasn't growing very well. My husband and I had been planning and preparing for an unmedicated hospital birth.

However, that changed on the night of January 12, 2005. I had a regular prenatal appointment scheduled for 8 pm. My doula met me there because we had planned to go over my birth plan with the OB that night. I had the little pink and blue belts on my belly, monitoring the baby for 20 minutes, like they did at every appointment since being diagnosed with IURG. Something didn't sound right, and the OB said I should go straight to the hospital. I looked at my doula, and she said we probably should. My doula drove me to the hospital and my husband met us there. After some monitoring at the hospital, it was decided that I should have a c-section because my baby's heart rate was showing no "variability", and the mild braxton hicks contractions I was experiencing, but not feeling, were causing her some amount of stress. I think the big concern was all this coupled with the fact that she was so small.

So, that night at 8pm I was in my OBs office for a simple prenatal appointment, and at 10:27 p.m., my baby was cut from my abdomen. It was very fast. I had no time to think, no time to prepare. She was 3lbs, 10oz at 37 weeks, 1 day. She was perfectly healthy and like every other newborn in every way except she was just tiny. We both stayed in the hospital for 5 days, then we were discharged and I was sent home with a 3lb, 10oz baby to care for.

Once home, few people visited me. No one cared for me. My husband was gone all day at work. I was in extraordinary pain from the c-section. I was very depressed. I cried constantly. Still, no one cared. Breastfeeding was a disaster, but I pumped my milk for a year.

Six months after that horrifying night, I wrote this poem about my experience:

Shucked

To think of myself as an animal
Led to the slaughter
Not really choosing
They stripped me
They shaved me
They shot me
Full of fear
So I'd be losing
All the feeling
But the feeling never goes
I heard 'oh you won't feel anything'
When I couldn't move my toes
First the needle
Then the knife
And they say that it's all right
They say I'll feel some tugging
But I don't, I just feel nothing
I was screened from my body
It's bloody
The baby, where's my baby
There's the baby
Could be anybody's baby
They take it away
And I'm left on the table
I want to be happy
But right now I'm not able
To see past the blood and the light
And the screen
Strapped to a table
The end of the dream
Gutted and cold
In pain and alone
Unable to speak, or to cry or
To moan
But the hate
And the anger
And the pain
Will subside
After I've grieved

I won't have the nightmares
Or wake with such fright
I'll think back and smile
On that terrible night
My wonderful baby
So tiny and pink
At that moment all I could
Think
Of was my pain and my fear
But what about you?
So cold and so scared
So little, so new
I look in your eyes
And I know what to do
I'll weep and I'll mourn
Then I'll tuck it away
Doesn't mean it's not there
But I'll keep it at bay

So now when I think about how
My baby came into this world
I choose to think of myself as an oyster
And my beautiful baby,
the pearl.
***********************************************************

Amazingly, around my baby's first birthday my husband and I decided we'd like another child. I became pregnant when my c-section baby was 13 months old. We found a midwife and planned a home waterbirth.

My labor began very gradually, very uneventfully. I didn't even realize it was "labor" at first, I just remember waking that first night thinking "why am I cramping so much??" and then I'd go back to sleep. This is about a week after my due date. By Wednesday, November 22nd (2006), I had my midwife, doula, the two assistants, my mother, MIL, daughter, a few sisters (I have 5) at my home, all preparing to witness this beautiful birth. I was 7 cm at 7am, and everyone "predictions" were that my baby boy would be born before dinner that night.

But my sweet little boy would not be born in the comfort of his own home. After over 50 hours of labor, 10 of those hours spent at 7 cm, the decision was made to transfer to the hospital. My baby was in a bad position. My midwife tried several things to try to help him reposition, she even tried manually pushing his head back up to he could reposition it (most PAINFUL thing I've ever experienced, and I'm speaking as a woman who's had a cesarean!). She said we could try breaking my water and doing a honey enema. I was uncomfortable having my water broken because baby's head was still so high and I was concerned about a cord prolapse, but I agreed to the honey enema. It did make the contractions get a little closer and stronger, but still no more dialation.

So my doula and I were racing around my bedroom trying to pack a bag for the hospital, so we could get there before my midwife's back up doc left. He's a great doctor and surgeon, and I know that we all felt I was going to the hospital for a repeat c-section. I was heartbroken, yelling at my uterus all the way to the hospital, telling it to just quit contracting because it was getting cut again.

By the time we got to the hospital though, I was found to be 9 cm. FINALLY! So, I labored for a bit longer, and pushed my posterior, asynclitic, nunchal handed and nunchal corded baby boy out in 45 minutes. He came very fast, the doctor wasn't even prepared. He lay on the bed between my legs and he was a whitish-gray color. I thought he was dead. The doctor rubbed his back vigorously and he had to be deep suctioned. He was fine though. Apgars were 2 and 9. I had a nasty 2nd degree tear, BUT... I'd take that over the c-section ANY day.

After the euphoria of my vbac wore off, I was depressed again. I had another small baby, at just 5lbs, 2oz at 41 weeks. Plus, his birth was so similar to my daughter's. Someone else's hands were the first to touch my baby. I didn't get to hold him right away, and he was already wiped and wrapped when i did get to see him. I didn't feel him come out. I was in a hospital and had tubes in my arms. I was pretty sad. However, he was born the evening before thanksgiving, and I was VERY thankful for my little guy!

To learn more about cesarean prevention, please visit www.ican-online.org