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From the moment my fifth child was born via C-section due to placenta previa, I knew that if we had a sixth child I wanted to try for a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean.)
But when I Googled "VBAC after placenta previa" I didn't find much. Mostly message boards where someone had asked "Anyone here have a VBAC after placenta previa?" and got crickets in response.
I wanted to put my story out there to let others know that a successful VBAC after complete placenta previa does happen! Here's my story.
Comparing my C-section to my four previous vaginal births, the Cesarean was harder and recovery was much worse. I realize some women liked their C-sections, but mine had been very scary and I definitely didn't want to repeat the experience if I didn't have to.
Luckily my midwife practice was supportive of VBACs, and they said I was a good candidate for one. My placenta wasn't in the way this time, I'd birthed babies vaginally before, and the baby was head-down and ready to go by the end of the pregnancy.
They wanted me to come in early and do most of my laboring in the hospital rather than at home, continuously use the fetal monitor, and place an IV port just in case I should need an emergency C-section. But everything looked promising for a VBAC.
I have nothing against using pain meds in labor. In fact, with the births of my first, second, third, and fourth babies, I waddled into labor and delivery yelling at every nurse, resident, and janitor in sight to get me my epidural yesterday.
And I got them, they just never worked well.
After one that barely took the edge off, one that only worked on one side, and one that gave me so much medication I went numb up to my neck and felt completely loopy, I started to believe that my body just didn't like epidurals. For me, they seemed to cause more problems than they solved.
But there was another reason, too.
The biggest risk of VBAC (although it's still small, about 0.5%) is uterine rupture, and with an epidural my body couldn't give us any feedback on how my uterus was holding up during labor. I wouldn't feel it if my uterus did rupture. We'd only have the fetal monitor to tell us, and I knew from personal experience that disconcerting dips and decelerations happen in totally normal labors all the time. I didn't want to be rushed into an emergency C-section because of it.
My mom flew in to stay with us the day before my due date, and I have to admit I was a little bit of a basket case at that point.
What if I developed pre-eclampsia right at the end? What if I didn't go into labor on my own? What if there was a problem in labor? And could I really have a baby without an epidural? I started to doubt myself more every day.
Phillip joked before we went to bed on my due date, "I told you that I want a daytime delivery this time, right?"
I laughed, knowing the middle-of-the-night deliveries we always seem to have are rough on him, and said, "Yes, and I've put in your request with The Fetus."
It didn't seem to help, though, because at 2 AM I woke up with Braxton-Hicks that turned out to be the real thing. I waited until about 4:45 to wake Phillip up, though, so at least that was something.
I arrived at the hospital at 6 AM wearing the ugliest pajamas you've ever seen. They are also the comfiest and, to be honest, one of the only things that still fit me during the last 2 weeks of being pregnant.
Phillip hates these pants. After it was over and we moved to a postpartum recovery room, Phillip tried to "forget" them in Labor & Delivery so they'd be lost forever.
I made him go back and get them.
At the hospital they hooked me up to the fetal monitor and then tried to insert my precautionary IV port. I say "tried" because they kept blowing my veins, which sounds so gruesome I don't even want to know what that means. My arms looked like they'd been run over by a truck for weeks afterward.
When the midwife checked me at 6:30 I was shocked to be informed I was 8 cm dilated. My contractions were mostly 5 minutes apart (although some were clustered closer together,) and they definitely didn't hurt that bad yet.
Maybe I could do this, after all.
For the next few hours, I exhaled through contractions while I leaned on a chair and Phillip pushed on my lower back. As they got stronger it also helped to moan and lunge side to side, which I'm aware probably looked pretty silly in my open-backed gown with my rear end pointed straight at the door and whoever happened to walk through it. You just don't really care about that kind of thing when it comes down to brass tacks.
My midwife was in the next room delivering another baby, so they pulled in an OB from the practice to catch mine.
I read a lot in preparation for this birth. The book that was the most helpful was Natural Childbirth: The Bradley Way. I'd also recommend parts of Birthing from Within and Hypnobirthing: The Mongan Method. Phillip liked The Birth Partner.
Basically, the message I pulled from all of them was: Relax. You can do this. Don't fight the contractions, just go with the flow. Remember to breathe.
Since I'm not naturally a relaxed person and I really am a baby about physical discomfort, I wasn't sure at all I could do this. I thought I'd lose it, rely completely on Phillip to talk me through it, or break and ask for an epidural.
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From the moment my fifth child was born via C-section due to placenta previa, I knew that if we had a sixth child I wanted to try for a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean.)
But when I Googled "VBAC after placenta previa" I didn't find much. Mostly message boards where someone had asked "Anyone here have a VBAC after placenta previa?" and got crickets in response.
I wanted to put my story out there to let others know that a successful VBAC after complete placenta previa does happen! Here's my story.
Why I Wanted a VBAC
Comparing my C-section to my four previous vaginal births, the Cesarean was harder and recovery was much worse. I realize some women liked their C-sections, but mine had been very scary and I definitely didn't want to repeat the experience if I didn't have to.
Luckily my midwife practice was supportive of VBACs, and they said I was a good candidate for one. My placenta wasn't in the way this time, I'd birthed babies vaginally before, and the baby was head-down and ready to go by the end of the pregnancy.
They wanted me to come in early and do most of my laboring in the hospital rather than at home, continuously use the fetal monitor, and place an IV port just in case I should need an emergency C-section. But everything looked promising for a VBAC.
Why I Didn't Want an Epidural
I have nothing against using pain meds in labor. In fact, with the births of my first, second, third, and fourth babies, I waddled into labor and delivery yelling at every nurse, resident, and janitor in sight to get me my epidural yesterday.
And I got them, they just never worked well.
After one that barely took the edge off, one that only worked on one side, and one that gave me so much medication I went numb up to my neck and felt completely loopy, I started to believe that my body just didn't like epidurals. For me, they seemed to cause more problems than they solved.
But there was another reason, too.
The biggest risk of VBAC (although it's still small, about 0.5%) is uterine rupture, and with an epidural my body couldn't give us any feedback on how my uterus was holding up during labor. I wouldn't feel it if my uterus did rupture. We'd only have the fetal monitor to tell us, and I knew from personal experience that disconcerting dips and decelerations happen in totally normal labors all the time. I didn't want to be rushed into an emergency C-section because of it.
"I've Put In Your Request With The Fetus"
My mom flew in to stay with us the day before my due date, and I have to admit I was a little bit of a basket case at that point.
What if I developed pre-eclampsia right at the end? What if I didn't go into labor on my own? What if there was a problem in labor? And could I really have a baby without an epidural? I started to doubt myself more every day.
 |
| I asked my daughter to take this picture and she cut off Phillip's head. Like I keep saying, he's too tall. |
Phillip joked before we went to bed on my due date, "I told you that I want a daytime delivery this time, right?"
I laughed, knowing the middle-of-the-night deliveries we always seem to have are rough on him, and said, "Yes, and I've put in your request with The Fetus."
It didn't seem to help, though, because at 2 AM I woke up with Braxton-Hicks that turned out to be the real thing. I waited until about 4:45 to wake Phillip up, though, so at least that was something.
The Opposite of a Fashion Show At the Hospital
I arrived at the hospital at 6 AM wearing the ugliest pajamas you've ever seen. They are also the comfiest and, to be honest, one of the only things that still fit me during the last 2 weeks of being pregnant.
 |
| Sittin' pretty in Labor & Delivery. Gentlemen, please attempt to control your thoughts. |
Phillip hates these pants. After it was over and we moved to a postpartum recovery room, Phillip tried to "forget" them in Labor & Delivery so they'd be lost forever.
I made him go back and get them.
When the midwife checked me at 6:30 I was shocked to be informed I was 8 cm dilated. My contractions were mostly 5 minutes apart (although some were clustered closer together,) and they definitely didn't hurt that bad yet.
Maybe I could do this, after all.
For the next few hours, I exhaled through contractions while I leaned on a chair and Phillip pushed on my lower back. As they got stronger it also helped to moan and lunge side to side, which I'm aware probably looked pretty silly in my open-backed gown with my rear end pointed straight at the door and whoever happened to walk through it. You just don't really care about that kind of thing when it comes down to brass tacks.
As the contractions intensified and I got more tired, I preferred to
sit up in the bed and just lean forward during contractions.
It was a perfectly textbook labor. All my worry had been over nothing. There were no problems, nothing on the fetal monitor that caused us concern.
My midwife told me it was going so great I could eat and drink whatever I wanted (which was good, because I'd been having Phillip sneak me pieces of a granola bar when everyone was out of the room for the last half-hour.)
It was a perfectly textbook labor. All my worry had been over nothing. There were no problems, nothing on the fetal monitor that caused us concern.
My midwife told me it was going so great I could eat and drink whatever I wanted (which was good, because I'd been having Phillip sneak me pieces of a granola bar when everyone was out of the room for the last half-hour.)
Let's Have a Baby
My midwife was in the next room delivering another baby, so they pulled in an OB from the practice to catch mine.
Up until now, I'd felt pretty well in control, but when it was time to push I sort of felt like I was drowning. I just couldn't get my bearing and get on top of the contractions in time.
I'd read a lot about giving birth squatting and how it was supposed to open up your pelvis more than any other position. So I wanted to like squatting, I really did.
I asked for the squat bar on the bed, but after one push it was clear that I hated it. I was too tired to support my weight, and by the looks of the fetal monitor, the baby hated it, too.
I asked for the squat bar on the bed, but after one push it was clear that I hated it. I was too tired to support my weight, and by the looks of the fetal monitor, the baby hated it, too.
So I abandoned that plan and delivered the traditional way, with a nurse and Phillip each holding a leg.
Now, I know how to push a baby out. You're supposed to take a deep breath, hold it, and bear down. The thing is, I was no longer in charge. Instead of staying in my lungs like it was supposed to, my breath erupted in a scream longer, louder, and higher than any human has ever made before.
You probably think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. When Phillip later commented on the baby's healthy cry the doctor chuckled to himself and said, "Well, if he has a set of lungs anything like his mother's..." and trailed off. (To be honest, I'm a little embarrassed to see the man again at my 6-week postpartum checkup, but such is life.)
Now, I know how to push a baby out. You're supposed to take a deep breath, hold it, and bear down. The thing is, I was no longer in charge. Instead of staying in my lungs like it was supposed to, my breath erupted in a scream longer, louder, and higher than any human has ever made before.
You probably think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. When Phillip later commented on the baby's healthy cry the doctor chuckled to himself and said, "Well, if he has a set of lungs anything like his mother's..." and trailed off. (To be honest, I'm a little embarrassed to see the man again at my 6-week postpartum checkup, but such is life.)
I'm not actually sure what happened, but I know that two pushes and the baby was out, so whatever I did must have worked. At 8:21, we were holding an 8 lb. 10 oz. baby boy.
So What Was a Drug-Free Labor Like?
Since I'm not naturally a relaxed person and I really am a baby about physical discomfort, I wasn't sure at all I could do this. I thought I'd lose it, rely completely on Phillip to talk me through it, or break and ask for an epidural.
Instead, I surprised myself with how strong I was. Letting the contractions wash over me with the least possible resistance made labor so much more bearable. I thought it was really hard work, but I don't know that I would describe it as painful.
The funny part is, the four epidural labors I'd had before had definitely been painful. I gritted my teeth and tensed up during contractions and that made them feel like they were going to crush me. Instead of resting between contractions I lay panicking in my hospital bed stressing out about the next contraction and how awful it was going to be and where were they with my epidural already?!
This time, I experienced contractions as an intense cramping that ebbed and flowed, and then a few moments of a lot of pressure toward the end (okay, so that was pretty painful) as the baby descended.
I think the difference was my mindset.
This time, I experienced contractions as an intense cramping that ebbed and flowed, and then a few moments of a lot of pressure toward the end (okay, so that was pretty painful) as the baby descended.
I think the difference was my mindset.
Between contractions I felt calm. I felt strong, like I could do anything. I was in the zone. I never hit that "I can't do it!" wall I expected to (although I did have the thought that I didn't want to.)
The worst part of the whole thing was the afterbirth and repair. That's the part I wished I would've had an epidural for! I had a second-degree tear, and let's just say I mashed the crap out of Phillip's hand while the OB massaged my stomach and numbed me up for stitches.
The Final Verdict
All in all, I'm 100% happy that I tried for a VBAC. It went better than I could have hoped for, and while I wish I hadn't torn at the end, recovery was still great. Physically, I felt fantastic. Baby was healthy and strong.
My final impression of going drug-free wasn't as black-and-white as I thought it would be. The last ten minutes was quite overwhelming, almost to the point where I could barely focus on the baby right after his birth. Overall, though, I think I'd still do it that way again.
But no matter what, don't these little baby feet make it all worthwhile?
My final impression of going drug-free wasn't as black-and-white as I thought it would be. The last ten minutes was quite overwhelming, almost to the point where I could barely focus on the baby right after his birth. Overall, though, I think I'd still do it that way again.
But no matter what, don't these little baby feet make it all worthwhile?
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