Birth of Tadhg.

Recent events have left me needing to communicate a lot of information to a lot of people efficiently, and so I find myself turning here to my poor neglected blog. I started this blog last year with the best of intentions but because my health this Fall and Winter wasn't the best, due we now know to my being pregnant, I have yet to really use it. I am now going to use it to keep everyone up to speed on what is going on with our early arrival, Tadhg. Tadhg came into the world early because I caught a very powerful digestive virus and has required medical intervention to keep him safe. I have been SO blessed with love and prayers from my friends and most overwhelmingly, heartwarmingly, by the people who I have been blessed to have follow me on Twitter. The prayers and thoughts of love sent to our tiny boy are in large part responsible, I believe, for his doing as well as he has.

Unfortunately, because I have not been at home, I have been unable to keep everyone up to date on how Tadhg has been doing. I hope to remedy that with a few posts here on my blog. I will start with a post on the events immediately preceding it and the birth itself. This synopsis was initially a note on my Facebook page so some of you may have read it already:

Since there's rather a lot of news, I've decided the best way to get everyone up to date is to write a note, so here goes. I will start back a couple of weeks ago, because it is only recently that I really announced my pregnancy to everyone. We weren't entirely sure how pregnant I was because the first time I missed a ful period was in December. Shortly after that we started trying to get a referral to the obstetrician here in Belleville but were running into problems because of the lack of health care providers here to get me referred. I realised however, during conversations with the many Attachment Parenting Moms, Midwives, Doulas, Lactation Consultants, Birth Activists, Intactivists and other feminists that I have been blessed to meet here online, that I really, REALLY, did NOT want to have another birth in Belleveille hospital! NOT!

So we headed into Toronto to see my old Family Doctor about a referral to a Toronto Obstetrician so we could have the baby in a Baby-Friendly (and non-misogynist!!) hospital. In order to get a referrral we needed an ultrasound, and we had to wait a MONTH to get an ultrasound here in Belleville. On April 26 we finally got the scan and were told we had a boy, and that he was probably 34 weeks gestation. Since ultrasounds in the third trimester are VERY inexact and can be as much as three weeks wrong, we knew we had to hurry to get ready for this baby! We had NO idea though, that it would be days later that he'd be born.

It was Friday April 30th that we got the dates, and Dr. Mark and I sent the referral off to the Obstetrician in Toronto, we expected to hear from him on the Monday. On the following day, Saturday May the 1st, Beltane, I began feeling VERY ill. It was mid-afternoon when I went upstairs to lie down. I could NOT get comfortable. My whole body ached. The Braxton-Hicks contractions that I had been having for weeks were now worse and no matter which way I positioned myself, it HURT. I tried taking a hot bath and this eased me a bit, but then I had to bolt out of the tub to vomit. Those who know me well can tell you that this is RARE. I almost never vomit. I very rarely have more than two drinks even when I do drink, and my usual illness "style" does not include vomiting. YEARS pass between episodes of vomiting for me, I just DO NOT PUKE.

After puking twice more, while having very powerful contractions, and breaking into a feverish sweat, I knew I had to go to the Emergency Room. I had David take me over, to Belleville Hospital. (NOT happy about it, but hoping I wasn't in full labour yet and that the virus could be treated.As soon as I hit the L&D ward, the first nurse jammed her hand hard into my belly which caused me to vomit profusely of course, D'UH! They gave me a bucket and insisted on trying to take a history while I was vomiting. I ended up with a gang of nurses around me but was off in a corner that had been roped off for construction because they very reasonably did not want anyone contagious in the one big room they force everyone to labour in together. (Yes, they put ALL the labouring Moms in one small room together in this Hospital! Privacy is apparently "inappropriate" when in labour. Also, do NOT try to get off the gurney they strap you to! that's "inappropriate" as well!)I let the nurse do a short tape from the fetal monitor, but since the band was causing me to vomit and contract, I asked to have it taken off. The nurse was very belligerent and abusive about it but did eventually concur. Since I now had to run to the bathroom with diarrhea, she didn't have much choice. I also would not lie on the gurney. The only way I could get comfortable, deal with the contractions which were quite strong, and not vomit was to lie on the floor. Of course Gestapo RN was NOT happy about this and constantly bitched and griped every time I climbed off the gurney. When the doctor arrived he thought it was amusing and was pretty understanding actually, but the nurse simply COULD NOT COPE with anyone not following the RULES.

The Doctor did another ultrasound, and of course even though the previous one was only 5 days previous, the dates were totally different, the measurements were all quite different and ranged from 36 to 37 weeks. He also told me what I SHOULD have been told earlier and wasn't, that it looked like there was some trouble with the baby's feet. Apparently because his feet were pressed against the uterine wall, they couldn't be seen clearly and they might be slightly clubbed. The Doctor ordered an intra-muscular shot of Gravol, 50 mg to ease my nausea. By this point my entire digestive system was completely empty and I was hoping just to keep some water down. I asked him to examine me because I was concerned the contractions had been labour and I might be dilated. He examined me and I was not progressed at all. My cervix was long and completely intact.

I went home. I slept. I was actually comfortable for the first time in ages because I wasn't having any contractions. I even slept in, Roisin and I didn't wake up till 10ish. When I did wake, I was hit by about 6 contractions in a row, HARD. They kept coming after that, but spaced apart. They were harder than Braxton-Hicks, but not by much because my B-H's are normally pretty powerful, I'll often have to stop and breathe through them. I was still feeling pretty weak from the virus and from not eating for about 24 hrs, so I stayed in bed, I was not sure whether I was in labour or not because I had been having contractions for so long, I thought these would pass too if I rested. Around 1ish I got hungry and figured that the pains might ease if I got up and made something to eat. They were coming about every 4 or 5 minutes, but not super regularly. When I got up, they were pretty strong actually. I thought, yup, there's a pretty good chance this is labour. David and all the kids were outside playing and hanging out with the neighbours. I decided to make myself a sandwich and tidy up a bit just in case this WAS labour because I was going to need my strength. The contractions were getting steadily harder and I was having to really pay attention to them, lean into them and breathing had become noises now, not just breaths. I just tried to hang on and get my little bit of work done so I could go settle in upstairs and eat my sandwich.I knew I was going to have to go have the baby at Belleville, and I knew it was going to be AWFUL. I knew they wouldn't let me handle my birth the way I wanted to and that I was going to have the fight on my hands that I had been trying so hard to avoid. I had spent hundreds of hours reading and researching every aspect of my own health care and birth issues. I had created a file of peer-reviewed medical studies and health protocols from various Academies in the field to support the decisions I had made and wanted included in my Birth Plan. That was all out the window now and I was SCARED to think I was going to have to deliver in Belleville, where I believed that neither I nor my baby were safe. Previous experience and my research had taught me that their policies and practices were archaic, misogynist, NOT evidence-based and in many cases downright negligent.

I got myself back upstairs and tried to settle in. I managed to eat a quarter of my sandwich but couldn't do anymore. I was trying to hold on as long as I could because I figured it had only been a couple of hours and my other labours had been long and hard. However I realised this was getting too hard for me to cope with and I thought I was going into Transition. I knew I needed an epidural, I could feel that this was the point where I had my four previous ones, just when it got too much to bear, not long before the birth itself. I've never had an epidural in for more than about an hour, but I had never birthed without one and wasn't going to torture myself unneccessarily. My first birth had taught me that lesson about self-care and control enabling me to have a less traumatic birth. I stuck my head out the window to holler across the street to the neighbours to get David. I was shocked to discover that even though I had been sharing my concerns with him all day that I was in labour, he had LEFT! Connie said he had just gone though and called him to come back. He came back and Connie and he helped me into the van. I was yelling with the contractions at this point, rather loudly. The trip to the hospital was short, under ten minutes, but I was contracting full tilt the whole way.

David got some help and a wheelchair and got me into emerg. where they sent me straight upstairs to L&D. I was contracting hard the whole time, and while they were trying to get me into the bed. The nurses were fighting with the fetal monitor and generally freaking out. They weren't listening very well and I was having to repeat myself constantly, I let them know I was in Transition and that this where I normally had my epidural and that they needed to call the anesthetist. They were more concerned with getting me onto my back and into stirrups. I wouldn't let them push me back. They were trying to push on my belly and since it was incredibly painful I wouldn't let them. They wanted me stripped down immediately and my bra off, and I wouldn't let them strip me. Since it is painful for me to go without a bra, I do NOT take it off when in labour until they give me an epidural. They were yelling at me in a gang about all of this. They were saying I was moving too fast to have an epidural but then they were saying I had to strip for the epidural. I took my skirt off and then my shirt but said I was keeping my bra until the anesthetist was in the room. Having three nurses yelling at you and manhandling you, pushing and shoving you and trying to rip your clothes off when you are having three minute contractions with only a 30 second break in between is NOT fun. They had me strapped down with the fetal monitor and they said I would need an IV for an epidural so I let them give me the IV. I was trying to deal with all the paperwork they kept shoving at me while also handling the contractions. I was still trying to get someone to actually CALL the anesthetist because I couldn't get a clear answer out of any of them, they were swarming around like angry hornets and generally freaking right out!

I let them get a bit of a tape from the monitor and then started mentioning that I'd like to get the monitor off as soon as possible because it was very uncomfortable and I really couldn't handle lying on my back being tied up. (I don't think ANY woman likes being tied up while in labour, but I have an especially hard time with it, it makes me panic). The nurse REALLY started yelling at this point. Someone must have found the ultrasound because one of them started yelling about "your baby is only FOUR pounds! Are you trying to kill him!" (Which is of course BULLSHIT, cause he was 6 pounds and fetal monitoring CAUSES problems it doesn't really solve problems, it certainly will not save a baby. It really just shuts up the nurses and doctors and only the ones who are so uneducated that they don't know how inexact and basically useless it is as a decision-making tool when a woman is already in labour) I tried to explain to them that continuous fetal monitoring is NOT an evidence-based practice and that the preponderance of research actually proves that it is HARMFUL to both fetal and maternal outcomes but they were all too busy yelling simultaneously. A fourth woman had come in the room and was also yelling at me about it. I said I do not have to have CFM and she said well yes you can refuse it and then started yelling some more and I finally had to resort to yelling myself in order to be heard over the gang of them. I said:
" I cannot believe that you are fighting with me and yelling at me! Do NOT FIGHT with me while I am in labour! Seriously! Listen, it's very simple. Continuous fetal monitoring is not evidence-based, it is dangerous to both my baby and me and it is NOT GOING TO HAPPEN. Make your peace with it and move on because attacking a woman in labour is really NOT COOL"

At this point they shut up and started running for refusal forms for me to sign. But not without one nurse commenting "well I hope you're happy, that was your Obstetrician that you just yelled at!"

Things were moving pretty quickly then. I had been examined as soon as I came in the door and they had said I was 7 or 8 cm dilated. The Ob examined me herself now and decided to break my water. There was a BIG gush and then the pressure was much less and I felt better. I said so and the obstetrician said, yes, I bet you do. She then said that the baby was coming right now and that there definitely was NOT time for an epidural. The nurses had been offering me gas and I had been refusing it because I have found it to be worse than useless in the past, it saps energy and focus but takes away none of the pain. I mentioned that demerol had been helpful in the past and then they all freaked out again and said "we don't DO demerol anymore, no, NO, no no no!" I was a little surprised because they certainly did the last time I delivered at Belleville, less than two years ago! There wasn't anytime to talk about that though because the OB was telling me the baby was coming right now and she needed me to push. I was quite upset at this point and started to weep in fear. I told her I had never birthed without an epidural and that I couldn't do it, that I was terrified. She did actually calm down and become soothing at this point. She explained that it wasn't going to be like my previous births, that I wouldn't be pushing for an hour, she said it was precipitous labour and that it was only going to be two pushes and she was sure I could handle such a short push.

She was right. It was 1 good push and then a little fraction of a push and he popped right out. There was a FLOOD of fluid. My toes got wet! And he was there, right between my legs. His cord was too short to allow him to be lifted to my chest. The OB immediately had her clamps and scissors out but I said NO! I knew how important it is to delay cord clamping, especially if the baby is in distress. I knew I had to stop his cord from being cut in order to give him the easiest transition and the best chance to avoid problems. She kept pushing David to cut and I kept saying, NO wait for it to stop pulsing. I managed to hold her off for only about a minute and a half, but she told me that it had stopped pulsing. Since it was so short, I couldn't SEE the cord myself to tell. Since the research shows that delaying cord clamping by even thirty seconds makes a huge difference, I feel I did the best I could for him and it really helped.

Approximately 15 minutes elapsed from when we arrived in Emerg and when he was born. Yes, it really was that fast. I woke up at 10ish and he was born at 3:13. About 5 hrs of labour, and for the first time in my life, a drug-free birth.

I was pleased that the pediatrician that was on call was Dr. Dempsey, the pediatrician I had seen at the clinic when Roisin was born. He is actually very knowledgeable about breastfeeding and infant nutrition, much more than most doctors. So I was pleased that he would be the one looking after the baby. He did say that he was having a bit of a hard time breathing and he said he was concerned that he looked a little hypoglycaemic. He immediately mentioned an IV for glucose and there was no mention of formula. My research into the protocols for treatment of hypoglycaemia of the newborn had taught me that THIS was the appropriate step to take and I was pleased and relieved to know that the baby was being appropriately cared for now. They wrapped him and let me hold him for a few minutes before they took him off the the NICU. I insisted that David stay with him.

I now had a different nurse. A nurse that I was actually acquainted with and who had been with me during my two prior births. It was a relief to see a friendly face. She cleaned me up and took care of me. It was about an hour later that David came back. He said that they had had a really hard time starting his IV and it had been pretty scary. They were watching him but also talking about possibly transferring him to Kingston. David went home to check on the other kids and was going to come back after supper.

I was moved into another room and finally got something to eat. I was then set up with a breast pump, thank GOD! I managed to pump about 25 mls of colostrum which doesn't sound like much but it was something so I was pleased. I then went down to the NICU to see Tadhg. David and I had been discussing names and I had said that I really liked Tadhg, but he didnt. Since David didn't like it I was considering other names but since he came so quickly, David said "You like Tadhg best, so I think that's what we should use" It seems to have stuck. He was tiny, definitely a preemie. Large for a preemie because he was 6 pounds but very small for me because most of my babies have been around 9 pounds.

I was back in the room, resting when David came back shortly after supper. He left the kids with me and went down to the NICU. When he came back he said that Tadhg was going to Kingston and very soon, they were just preparing him for transfer. We got me cleaned up and dressed and ready to go.We all went down to the NICU again to see him, even the kids one at a time, before he was transferred. They had him in a special portable incubator with an oxygen hood on. He had a team of attendants and there was a resident doctor from Kingston that spoke to us before they went. Since I was not being transferred, only Tadhg, and I was being discharged. I made sure that they had his colostrum and then we went home. I had no way to go to Kingston with him because I would have been stranded there alone with nowhere to stay. We planned to go the next morning.

I'm going to pause there and I will pick up the story in Kingston in my next note.