Miss K's Birth Story

Before I go over K2's birth story, it is important that I record K1's, and so here it is. 18 months after the fact has my memory bleary, but try to bare with me.

First some background: K was not my first birth. For a number of personal reason I will not go into any information about the older child, just suffice it to say he is well, and making another family very happy. His pregnancy was not an easy one, and resulted in a very premature birth. With that background, and some early bleeding with K, I was put on bed rest at 8 weeks and stayed on bed rest for the entire pregnancy. It was the most difficult and lonely 30 weeks of my life.

Toward the end of my pregnancy my blood pressure had been rising slowly but surely. And for a few weeks it had to be taken multiple times before we could get an acceptable read. But, we always ended up with a good number. At my 38 week appointment however, that wasn't happening. I don't remember the specifics but I do remember my doctor was concerned if I was allowed to continue on to 40 weeks I would have a stroke. So he scheduled my induction.

The morning of December 17th, I woke up, showered, and tried to eat a breakfast bar before packing up in the car and heading south. Both my doctor and I agreed that it was more comforting for me to bypass my local hospital and go to a bigger, more specialized birthing hospital an hour south. At 9 am I was moved into a room, and set up on the monitors and a nurse applied the Prostaglandin Gel. A few hours afterward I was started on a Pitocin drip.

Ask just about any rational person and they will quickly tell you, pitocin induced labor is no walk in the park. My plans of sticking to an unmediated birth flew right out the window, as I learned that Pitocin is not something I would wish on my very worst enemies.

I dilated some, I think no further than a 6, and then just stopped. I was in so much pain, but still stubbornly insisting that I needed no epidural, and only the bare minimum of the pain killer I had so far accepted. Eventually a nurse came in and called it how she saw it. Basically my body was so tense from holding in the pain that I was actually to tense to dilate. If I continued doing what I was doing I would be to worn out for the actual pushing, and would end up with a C-Section. She gave me her best suggestion: Epidural, or volunteer for one now so it doesn't turn into a stressful emergency setting. I thought about it for about a half hour I believe, but around 4 AM I got the epidural.

And I began to dilate soon after that. The nurse was right though, I had worn myself out pretty badly. I had just enough energy when it came time to push, which was around 10 AM. Unfortunately at this point K had decided she was going to stay put. Between every contraction she would scoot back in, and during every contraction I would push her back to the point of almost crowning. At about 2 PM I was delirious, I asked for a break- and fully dilated, in active labor, I fell asleep. After an hour I woke up, and felt charged enough to give it one last shot- because if she wasn't out soon I would be having that emergency C-Section.

I actually was getting her to the crowning point, but she was still playing that game. The doctor explained my options to me. I had torn, so he was going to cut me a little more, and I had the option of forceps or vacuum to pull her out since my body was not able to push her out on its own. We discussed the risks and I chose the vacuum. K was out at 3:32 PM December 18th, 2010. 6lbs 11ozs, 21 1/2 inches and very unhappy with her current state of affairs. But the second she was laid on my chest she looked up at me with those sweet blue eyes, and calmed herself as I said hello.

Then we both promptly fell asleep. For just a minute! Then the nurses took her to be cleaned up and I "birthed" the placenta and then watched my lady parts get repaired in the reflection of my doctor's glasses. Delightful.

The next few hours were really hazy. I finally slept, and so did K. Breast feeding, as I've said previously was a struggle, and so was getting any rest after that first post birth coma- K was kicked out of the nursery twice the first night for disrupting the other babies, but would quiet down the second she was with me. That's where our bed sharing began, in that hospital bed. Before we left the hospital two days later she was supplementing with formula and I had to receive a blood transfusion. Apparently the tear/cut situation was a lot worse than I was told at the time, and I had lost a lot of blood. The transfusion made me swell and I was shocked to find at discharge that my flip flops didn't fit!  And K's newborn sleeper was way to big. But all was perfect none the less, and has more or less remained so ever since.

The Breast Choice?

In the back of my mind I've been tossing an idea around for a few weeks now. Breast feeding vs. Formula feeding. I didn't feel comfortable even acknowledging planned formula feeding as a possibility until Erica from Mi Todo was featured on another blog discussing her personal decision.

Erica is a woman I can respect, perhaps even more fully now, because of her drive. She knows what she wants and strives for it. She honestly works for what she wants. I know so many people these days who if they can't do it, they won't try, and will even most likely belittle whatever the subject is to validate their own feelings. Weak.

When I first saw that Erica was formula feeding I felt like I could relate- with Miss K I was unable to breastfeed, despite numerous Lactation Specialists and consultations and gadgets, anatomically K and I weren't matching up. Later I read that she was formula feeding by choice. My first thoughts of course were of the generic judgemental "Breast is best" variety.

Secretly that was envy. Because today society tells mothers that you're not doing the best by your child if you don't breast feed.  That you don't love your child because you're not providing the best nourishment.

I pumped with K, for 6 months. I suffered from sleep deprivation and hormone induced migraines, I forgot to eat, I didn't leave the house or have any human contact, I coveted breast milk, I resented my child. All because breast was best. And after all that work I was still being looked down on, and still receiving snide remarks because I CHOSE to pump rather then suffer more emotional damage (I had severe post partum depression) by consistently struggling for a latch and being rejected by a newborn. I was looked down on because I wasn't giving my child the physical contact that was so important according to "Their" standards.

So I co-slept and ended up loosing my bed, my haven, for the next year in order to make up for it. I made so many sacrifices because of the "Breast is Best" campaign. Please don't misunderstand I would gladly make all those sacrifices again, and more, a million times over for my precious girl. But the hours I spent away from her in the ER with horrible crippling migraines, the time I spent angry, hiding and resentful of her, the times I cried and hated myself... those times could have been better spent cherishing and loving my little newborn.

Now that Miss S's arrival is nearing I'm starting to wonder if I can do all that anger and hate and resentful sacrifice again, with a toddler on top of it. In my mind it boils down to "Breast is Best" vs. Love. Is breast feeding really worth being an angry resentful parent? I rather give my girls all my love and devotion and formula feed than risk emotional damage to them or myself. I rather not miss out on cherishing what little time we have together in these younger years. Breast may be best, but is it best for our family, and for me? I'm not so sure.

If that makes me a bad parent, so be it.

I plan on attempting to breast feed with S, and if she can't latch then I plan on formula feeding. And that is okay. Either way, I look forward to the peace of mind of knowing my child is fed, rather then worrying if I can feed her "naturally." I look forward to loving her, cherishing her, and sharing her and her joy with her sister. I don't have to live in fear of breast feeding, I don't have to live in dread, because I know no matter what happens, I have the experience and knowledge to parent my girls fully with love. And I sincerely believe that that is what's best.