Isabelle Sophia

There are a lot of different perspectives that I have had concerning Isabelle’s birth.  Some – like the fact that we have a beautiful, healthy, precious daughter – are pure joy to my heart.  Others, though?  Not so much.  For now, I will try to focus mostly on the former, and maybe down the road, I will be able to adequately communicate the latter.

This birth story starts out fairly innocuously.  Thursday night, May 15, I started feeling some cramping…not contractions yet, but previous pregnancies had taught me that this cramping usually meant real labor was only a day or two away.  About 4am on Friday, I felt my first “real” contraction.  It wasn’t long or painful, but I took note nonetheless.  Over the course of the next few hours, there were 7 or 8 more, so I emailed my midwife just to say that labor was likely to happen sooner rather than later, but my expectation was that I still had a while.  We went about our day as usual.  Tim’s plan was to do a shopping run to Massena that afternoon, and though we debated briefly whether or not he should go, it was fairly easily decided that nothing of any significance was going to happen that afternoon, so he went.

At 2:30, though, as I was baking cookies for the kids’ Academy Night, I felt something leaking.  I thought maybe it was a small leak of amniotic fluid, but when I got to the bathroom, I discovered that it was blood, and not a small amount.  I panicked, a little.  I called Tim, he didn’t answer.  I called my midwife, she said she would call back in 15 minutes to see if the bleeding had continued.  I struggled to discern whether the blood was “bright red” or “dark red”.  I bled some more.  I called Tim, he answered, and I told him to leave his almost completely full shopping cart and come home now.  The midwife called and told me to head to the hospital, and said she would be on her way shortly.  It was 3pm.  Tim got home in about 20 minutes, I think.  He was (understandably) frazzled.  After making sure his mom had whatever info she needed to run the household for the evening/night, we left for the hospital.

By this point, I didn’t seem to be bleeding anymore.  We got checked in at the hospital and taken to labor and delivery.  While I had waited for Tim to get home, I  had tried to figure out what might be causing the bleeding…the most likely options being placenta previa (where the placenta covers the cervix) and placental abruption (where the placenta pulls away from the uterine wall)…so I was trying to prepare myself for the advice I felt sure was inevitable, but I was also praying desperately for wisdom and clarity.  I absolutely did not want to get stuck on a slippery slope that led to another c-section without good reason.  The first couple hours were spent getting an ultrasound and a non-stress test.  The baby’s heart rate seemed fine (or so we were told at this point), and the ultrasound showed low amniotic fluid, but the placenta was high, which ruled out previa…however, it was mostly behind the baby, so it wasn’t possible to tell if there was an abruption.  We hadn’t yet seen the doctor, but he went ahead and order some bloodwork (which was supposed to help determine if there was internal bleeding happening) and a test to determine if there was any amniotic fluid present near the cervix.  Eventually, (before any test results were back) the doctor came by and said his working diagnosis was an abruption and that his recommendation was cesarean.  Since his diagnosis was, at this point, based on next to nothing, we insisted that we wanted something more concrete to base our decision on.  He then told us that he wasn’t happy with the variability in the baby’s heart rate (never mind that the nurse had previously said it looked great), but when pressed, couldn’t/wouldn’t tell us exactly why.  It was at this time that the results came back which indicated that my water had broken (I think probably just a slow leak), which explained the low fluid on the ultrasound.  The doctor decided to order a biophysical profile (BPP), which would apparently give a better idea of how the baby was tolerating life inside the womb.  The BPP was a timed ultrasound where the tech measured movement, muscle tone, fluid levels and breathing “movements”.  Movement and muscle tone were fine, fluid was low – but for an obvious reason, however, there apparently weren’t enough breathing movements (when the baby mimics the breathing action, though it actually serves no useful purpose in the womb), so the overall score for the BPP was low.  Once again, explanations were not given that could explain why it mattered if the baby was mimicking breathing, we were just told that it wasn’t good.  During the ultrasound for the BPP, another attempt was made to view the placenta.  This time, it was more visible, and it was determined that there was a clot on the placenta, which apparently equated to a partial abruption.  After learning this, the OB was pretty set on doing a cesarean.  If the BPP had not been low, there may have been the chance that he would have approved a transfer to another hospital…if there were one willing to let me labor.  But, as it was, he would not approve a transfer.  My midwife (who arrived around 9pm) at this point was convinced the birth needed to happen in a hospital, so we were left with the option of having a cesarean, or – in the unlikely event that there were any hospitals within a few hours that would have even considered a trial of labor – leaving the hospital against medical advice, while in labor (contractions were pretty consistently about 10 minutes apart at this point), and risk the possibility of a full abruption while making the hours long trip to another hospital.  In other words, there really was no option.  And as much as I did not want another cesarean, I was thankful that the choice was made clear for us.  We agreed to the cesarean.

There was a lot more in the way of thoughts and feelings that came up before, during, and after the cesarean, but of greatest importance was that at 11:41pm, Isabelle Sophia arrived (though nameless for more than 24 hours).  She was our smallest baby yet, at a slight 7lbs, 10.6oz, and 20.5 inches long.  She was healthy and strong.  While I couldn’t hold her until an hour or so after her birth, when finally given the chance, she nursed easily and often.  I am thankful for that.  I am thankful for her.  I am thankful that she’s here and doing wonderfully well.  She is a priceless gift and whatever the “cost” to ensure her safe arrival was more than worth it.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *