Sunday, 14 September 2014

Expecting Joy

It is definitely past time I started telling the world about our baby joy . . . I am now 21 weeks pregnant with Baby Number 3 and could not be more over the moon!  Everything has been progressing perfectly and peacefully, exactly as I dreamed and expected.  I am quite truly on a high.  Nothing can distract me from the pure bliss of carrying this new life within me.  I called to this baby and asked him/her to come and make our family complete, and now this tiny soul has arrived!  Nothing else matters.

We officially started "ttc" around Halloween 2013 and were successful in April of this year, so thankfully it did not take us very long.  In fact, I learned for future reference that perhaps the most effective form of natural birth control discovered to date must be parenthood itself, as having two small children to look after often interrupted, delayed or altogether prevented the "ttc"ing from happening in the first place!  Nevertheless, we have been very fortunate and blessed to welcome the presence of this new little being into our lives.  How exciting to be feeling all of these delightful taps, stretches and turns from within again!  It is a sensation that never gets old and is altogether beyond the humdrum everyday.  It is simply thrilling.

For anyone else who is trying to attract a new baby into their family, I've attached below some of the videos I was watching and listening to during that special pre-conception period to ready my mind and body for our baby and to prepare a positive mental state for pregnancy.  They are all completely free and can be found on YouTube.  I hope that others might find them helpful and that they might give hope and joy to other couples on their conception journeys.

In this short meditation, powerful affirmations combine with unforgettable images and ethereal music to create a soulful piece that inspires gratitude, optimism and deep joy.  Although I have never suffered from PCOS as did the author of this video, I have had a few miscarriages.  I know what it is like to feel that my body let me down and to lose faith in my body's ability to create and house a new baby, only to   heal and re-establish a loving connection with my womb and to become a mother of two gorgeous, healthy children.  The same author has also published a Womb Prayer Meditation on YouTube, which does not deal specifically with conception issues but addresses a woman's need to honour, love and be thankful for her womb and all it does to care for and sustain her throughout life.  She triumphantly declares that her wombstory is not about what happened to her, but what happened for her.  Love it.

Maybe it's my East Coast roots talking here, but I like Bex and her simple, down to earth approach to meditation and spirituality.  What she does feels very relaxed and genuine, and she has a very accessible girl-next-door quality that may suit people like me for whom meditation can be challenging or intimidating.  She helped me to find the words I wanted to say to our future child, which created a loving bond between us even before conception.  It also enabled me to develop trust in my body and in my baby in an easy, natural way.  I knew that my baby was on the way because I had already connected with him/her.  I felt confident knowing that it was only a matter of time rather than feeling stressed and under pressure to conceive as I have experienced previously.

A wonderful collection of reassuring, comforting and energizing affirmations broken down into categories, such as Affirmations to Release Mental Blocks, Affirmations for Lifestyle Changes and Affirmations for Manifesting a Baby.  You can't help but feel empowered and surrounded by positive, supportive energy.  View regularly!  

Quite simply, I love this woman's soothing, hypnotic voice and could listen to her all day and night!  This piece really helped me to visualize my womb as a healthy, warm, welcoming environment that was ready to nurture and grow a new baby.  It also helped me to reframe the process of conception in a more spiritual way.  Conception is not a bodily function to be controlled and mastered by the intellect.  Of course, we may chart our cycles, measure Basal body temperatures and even sometimes need to look for help in the form of fertility treatments depending on our individual situations.  However, in essence conception is not forcing or insisting.  It is an opening - physically, emotionally and spiritually - to the universal life force which is forever flowing within and without us.  We open up to possibility, to love.  It is not seizing control but giving it away to another power.  This meditation really helped me to tune into that life force and that opening and to trust that my baby would come when s/he knew that the time was right.

I also frequently listened to Maggie Howell's "Prepare to Conceive" CD, which is a part of her Natal Hypnotherapy range.  Like Debbie Williams in the video above, she has a voice which to me is simply made for encouraging a relaxed, hypnotic state.  The recording is about 25 minutes long and not only includes powerful and comforting visualizations but also stirs and nurtures the feelings of self-love and healing needed to adopt a healthy lifestyle which is conducive to conception.  I bought mine on

Best wishes to everyone who is waiting for a new little miracle to bless their lives!

Friday, 16 May 2014

Research Supports VBA2C

According to Trinity College School of Nursing and Midwifery in Dublin, Ireland, "As the number of caesarean sections (CSs) increase, the risks for women also increase.  A systematic review and meta-analysis of 21 studies (Marshall et al. 2011) showed that the rates of hysterectomy, blood transfusions, adhesions, and surgical injury all increased with an an increasing number of caesarean births.  Thus, a second/third caesarean birth should be avoided by women who have had one/two CSs, if feasible and safe to do so."

In the spirit of promoting safe and positive birth options for mothers who have had prior caesarean(s) and wish to have more children, please find below a preliminary list of links that demonstrate the overall safety and success rates of VBA2C.  I will continue to add to this list over time, so check back for updates.  In the meantime, I hope readers find this information useful and heartening. Bulletins/Committee on Practice Bulletins -- Obstetrics/pb115.pdf?dmc=1&ts=20130415T1216109630 
American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (United States of America) Guidelines on VBAC, revised in 2010:
"Given the overall data, it is reasonable to consider women with two previous low transverse cesarean deliveries to be candidates for TOLAC, and to counsel them based on the combination of other factors that affect their probability of achieving a successful VBAC."
The clinical practice guidelines for birth after previous caesarean birth, published by the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists in the United Kingdom.  It states, "Women with a prior history of two uncomplicated low transverse caesarean sections, in an otherwise uncomplicated pregnancy at term, with no contraindication for vaginal birth, who have been fully informed by a consultant obstetrician, may be considered suitable for planned VBAC."
A publication from The Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists in the United Kingdom entitled, "Birth After Previous Caesarean: Information for You."  They claim, "Overall, about three out of four women (75%) with a straightforward pregnancy who go into labour give birth vaginally following one caesarean delivery . . . Most women with two previous caesarean deliveries will have their next baby by caesarean delivery.  However, should you go into labour your chance of a successful vaginal birth is slightly less than this (between 70% and 75%)."
"Delivery After Previous Caesarean Section Clinical Practice Guideline" from the Health Service Executive in the Republic of Ireland.  This document states, "In individual circumstances where a woman strongly desires a trial of labour after two previous CS, it may be considered.  If the head is engaged, if the cervix is favourable, if there is a history of a prior vaginal delivery and if labour starts spontaneously the risk of a successful VBAC may be high and the risk of UR may be low. However, the risks and benefits of a TOLAC in such cases should be documented antenatally in the notes. There is also a case for not using oxytocic agents either to induce or augment labour in such circumstances (Turner, 2002)."
A blogger references scientific research studies related to VBAMC in light of ACOG's revised guidelines.  A frank assessment of the culture of fear surrounding birth in our society.
A small study that shows a 75% VBA2C rate.  This was the same success rate as VBA1C but with increased morbidity.
A small study that demonstrated a 65% VBA2C success rate.
A small study showing an 89% VBA2C success rate.
A small study which showed no difference between VBA1C and VBA2C success rates, although rates of morbidity were increased for the VBA2C group.
A small study showing a 32% success rate in VBAC after 2 caesarean sections;jsessionid=DFE2CED959EF1294D077BCA8AD045250.f01t04?v=1&t=hvbzdwyd&s=85e75e2ce0081634cdee7bd686c2ea6a3f96a44d
This is a meta-analysis of many different studies, comparing success rates and maternal morbidity rates among VBA1C, VBA2C and RCS.  It notes a VBA2C success rate of 71.1% and a UR rate for attempted VBA2C as 1.36%.  What the authors fail to highlight either in the abstract or in the recommendations is that in the majority of the studies used, induction and augmentation of labour (e.g. oxytocin, syntocinon, prostaglandin gel) were used liberally by obstetricians, and epidurals were also used on many of the mothers involved.  Induction and augmentation of labour are known to be associated with comparatively higher rates of uterine rupture, and the use of epidurals is associated with higher rates of caesarean section even in unscarred moms.  Therefore, it is distinctly possible that the success rate is lower and the UR rate higher than one would find in a population of spontaneously labouring women who had no augmentation or epidural.
A story about an inspirational obstetrician in Northern Ireland who actively supports a mother's right to choose vaginal birth when it is safe and reasonable to do so.  In the 2010 article, Dr. McCabe says that she has facilitated 32 women in achieving vaginal births after 2 surgical births.

In addition to the above mentioned studies and articles, I HIGHLY recommend Jennifer Kamel's website  The website includes an extensive bibliography, which is an invaluable and fascinating resource.  One can also purchase the VBAC Facts Webinar and attend a virtual online course that provides an overview of available research relevant to VBAC candidates and their families.  Well worth the cost to inform your decision to plan either a VBAC or a repeat CS, depending on your unique circumstances.

Sunday, 16 March 2014

Another Informative Resource

I would like to introduce readers to my favourite parenting magazine, JUNO.

JUNO is a natural parenting magazine that inspires and supports families through its range of features, columns and artwork.  Established in 2003, it is published four times a year, in March, June, September and December.  The editorial is broad, covering all aspects of family life for all ages.  JUNO is loved by many readers for its articles that share personal experiences and reflections, and for the beautiful and striking images and illustrations from a range of artists.

JUNO offers fresh perspectives in this fast-paced technological world, creating a non-judgmental community for those who are keen to follow a "natural approach to family life."  There are columns on home education, empowered birth, teens and nutrition; interviews, crafts and recipe ideas and a mix of features that can help readers make informed choices as they journey through the challenges of parenting.

Monday, 20 January 2014

Welcome, 2014!

"You should just be thankful that you have a healthy baby.  That's all that matters."  

The witch hunt is on.

The medical profession and the pharmaceutical companies are considered sacrosanct in our culture.  Anyone who dares to question or criticize their wild fantasies is branded a heretic, and VBAC moms in particular are labeled selfish mothers who have poor judgment for supposedly endangering the lives of their infants and putting their own desire for "an experience" ahead of the welfare of their child.  When we actually look at the scientific research, however, it is so obvious that widespread misconceptions about uterine rupture which are being perpetuated by the medical community and passed on by well-intentioned but uninformed people should really be relegated to the land of the dragons and trolls.  At the same time, equally false assumptions and assertions about the safety of the caesarean operation relative to VBAC continue to spread like wildfire.  Far from being the domain of the curious mind and a search for the truth, science and technology have become a religion.  We worship the holy men and women in the white coats, allowing them to pump us full of narcotics and toxic vaccines and butcher our mothers, and then we hail them as our saviors.  As caesarean moms, society and protocol demand that we kiss the ground they walk on, offer everlasting thanks to them for delivering our babies to us safe and sound against all odds, and curse our vile, ill-functioning bodies and Creation itself publicly for their inability to bring forth new life as they were designed to do.

Welcome, 2014!  This is truly going to be The Year of Shakti (Empowerment) for our family.  I hope it will be for yours, too.  We perceive the world through the eyes of the divine mother Kali Ma, and with her wisdom, dignity and strength we are able to see through samsara, the world of illusion, to a life free from slavery to the fears and demons which have been invented to keep us prostrate to the powers that be.  Happy New Year, indeed.  Happy New Life!

Saturday, 14 December 2013

Louise Hay's Affirmations for Childbirth

Happy weekend to all!!!  

Just wanted to post these beautiful and powerful birth affirmations, written by Louise Hay, for anyone who might benefit from a little bit of positive energy and inspiration today.  

This is for all you lovely ladies who will be giving birth soon.


My baby and I live in a harmonious world.

We are both totally in tune with the rhythm and flow of life.
Birthing is a normal and natural part of life, and we will make the process easy 

for each other.
Our love for each other erases any fears that may come up.
We breathe together in perfect harmony.
My pelvis opens in perfect Divine right order.
Baby and I surrender to the process in ecstasy.
We have time to relax, to let go and to even nap, it is all perfect, even 

When it is time to push, the raw power within me will exert itself, and my baby 

will slide out with ease.
All is well, we are both safe, all is well, we are both loved by Life.

Louise Hay

Friday, 29 November 2013


Happy Friday to all!

By way of an addendum to my last post, I'd like to recommend highly a blog I came across last summer.  Mama Birth features every kind of birth story you can imagine, and she has a special section devoted to VBAC birth stories.  Everything from HBAC to VBA4C is captured, and the stories are incredibly emotional and inspiring, written by the Moms themselves.  If you are looking for something to sustain your courage and determination to VBAC, look no further!  You can find Mama Birth at  

Also, check out this powerful video compiled by ICAN and featuring music by Superchick for another reminder that your dream is well within reach.

Monday, 25 November 2013

My CBAC and Harvesting the Good

WARNING:  If you or your partner are currently expecting a child and planning a vaginal birth, please do not read the birth story at this time, as it may plant inappropriate images, thoughts and feelings into your subconscious mind which are not supportive of your goals.  There will be plenty of time to catch up and read the story when you have your babe safe in arms after a healthy and happy birth experience.  Your baby thanks you!

It was a Thursday during the summer of 2012, reportedly the worst summer Ireland has seen in the past 26 years, or in the case of Cork in the past 50 years, going back to the first year in which records were kept.  Nevertheless, when I woke up early that morning with my 2 1/2 year old daughter, Pebbles, the sun was shining, and I realised right away that the day was full of promise in more ways than one.  The slight twinges I had been experiencing for weeks had distinctly grown in intensity from mild menstrual-type cramps to a more uncomfortable, sore sensation, and I noticed that a small but steady trickle of fluid had begun.  I texted my parents, who had extended their stay in Ireland since our baby had decided to arrive fashionably late to his own birthday.  I was ecstatic and full of giddy energy.  The time had finally come.  Our baby was ready to be born!

For almost 2 months, a very slow, gradual process of preparation for this delivery had been very obvious, and I kept thinking, "Any day now, it will be any day now."  Our family seemed to be in constant celebration mode:  chocolate cake here, dinners out there, trips to the beach another day...  It was incredibly beautiful and quite fascinating to see this natural progression of unfolding events.  It made me giggle to think that I was a like a Transformer in slow motion.  It was as though my body was slowly and dramatically morphing from a baby-making and -nurturing machine into a baby-delivery system.  I felt like an egg that, fragile yet incredibly strong, had begun to crack open as my pelvis opened up and the soreness around my hips and sacrum became more and more pronounced.  With every step (or waddle) I took, I could feel my baby's head incrementally making its way downward like a nail being hammered into place one swing at a time.  He felt so low down at this stage.  And I was just so heavy!!!  My "cankles" were swollen like an 80 year old woman's, so much so that going up and down the stairs became very sore and I could only manage one step at a time.  I hadn't been able to wear my wedding rings for some time because my hands and fingers were also thick with oedema.  My fingernails looked abnormally small for my now-enormous fingers, which were stiff with every movement they made.  My face was puffy and red, and my nose had begun to spread across my face.  I looked like a cartoon character.  It was all so amazing and unexpected since nothing like this had happened when I was expecting my daughter.

Two days prior to this, on Tuesday, we had gone to the hospital to see Diana Prince, our obstetrician, the same one who had been our consultant during my pregnancy with Pebbles.  I was now 40+5, and we knew that if my cervix looked favourable she could do a stretch and sweep.  I was pretty nervous before we went in.  I really wanted to let everything take its natural course and didn't want to interfere with the process.  I believed that things were progressing just as they should.  I worried that messing about with things might result in accidentally rupturing the membranes or that the labour wouldn't progress properly if we brought it on artificially, leading to further and more invasive interventions.  However, I was weighing this up against the fact that my odds of VBAC success would decrease, albeit slightly, the more overdue I was.  Great news, not only did she say that my cervix was favourable but said I had already dilated 1-2 cm and that she could feel our baby's head!  I was literally in a state of shock and awe.  She had actually touched our baby's head.  Our Spud was really coming and would be in my arms soon.  We went home triumphant and relieved after the stretch and sweep, and I spent almost the entire next day sleeping.  I just could not keep my eyes open.  My body was conserving energy for the huge task ahead.  All was right with the world.  So when the cramps and waters came, I was in no doubt as to what was about to transpire.

We had another appointment with Dr. Prince set for late in the day, around 3:30 or so, and we knew we would not be coming home right away.  My husband and I were taking photos of ourselves with Pebbles on our last day as a family of three, photos of the cats, photos of Nana and Pop, photos of Pebbles and her toys.  We could not contain ourselves.  Throughout the day, the contractions grew stronger and stronger.  They were never even close to unmanageable, but they were very regular every 2-3 minutes and more uncomfortable than my usual menstrual cramps.  I had not expected contractions to be so closely spaced at this early point in the labour, and this, combined with the information Dr. Prince had given us two days prior about the state of my cervix, led me to believe that things were perhaps moving a little more quickly than we had anticipated.  Our original plan had been to labour at home until the last possible moment.  I assumed that labour could take at least a day or two all told.  But now, I was walking a fine line between excitement and nervousness.  I was also beginning to worry about how able I would be for the hour-long drive to our nearest maternity hospital.  Although my conscious mind knew and believed in the natural birth process and the innate ability of all women to give birth, my subconscious mind still resided in the realms of fear, reinforced over a lifetime's worth of birth horror stories and cliché television shows.  In addition, my parents had been with us for over a week, watching and waiting for this baby to be born.  They would be very old school when it comes to anything to do with the medical profession.  We should race to the hospital at the first twinge, in their view.  They wanted their daughter and grandchild safe and healthy, after all.  I knew I could not sit in front of them all day (or longer) and pretend that nothing was happening.  I was a child again in a way, the way we all are when we want to please our parents, no matter what age we are.  We hugged our baby girl goodbye and left her on what would be the first night she'd ever spent without the arms of her parents around her.  We hit the road.  There would be no turning back.

Inexplicably, I decided en route that we should go directly into the hospital rather than attending our scheduled appointment with Dr. Prince.  She's only going to tell us to go over there anyway, I reasoned.  We live too far away for her to send us home.  We might as well.  So we rang her office to let her know we were going to the hospital instead.  How had this happened?  I have been incredibly hard on myself about these early decisions in particular.  Staying at home until the baby was actually emerging between my legs had turned into, "Let's just get in and get settled."  I was not even aware that I was afraid, but all of my unacknowledged fears and my lack of belief in myself were actually running the show.  I was and remain utterly disappointed in myself, but I am learning to temper that with a measure of compassion.

I feel it is important to mention here that my ideal birth during my pregnancy with my son would have been a home birth, but of course I was not eligible under the HSE guidelines due to my previous caesarean section.  Nevertheless, my husband and I sought to create a kind of “home from home” birthing experience at the hospital, and we did not think that it would be difficult to achieve this as private patients in a brand new, state-of-the-art, metropolitan maternity hospital.  We arrived at the hospital with a birth plan, which we had written with great conviction and attention to detail.  We summarized our approach with the following statement:  “Above all, our aim is to allow the normal physiological process of giving birth to take place unimpeded with a minimum of disruption and interference as long as it is safe to do so.”  We were confident that this approach would result in a successful vaginal birth for us and our baby.  However, the hospital’s model of care did not seem to be compatible with our goals.

The reception with which we were greeted in the Admissions Department was less than enthusiastic.  I was expecting midwives to be jumping for joy.  “Hooray, your baby is coming!”  This was not the case.  We had entered a place of business, and the atmosphere was detached and aloof.  I met with the first midwife by myself.  For some reason, my husband was told he could not come into the examination room with me.  I had to sit up on a table in a semi-reclined, very uncomfortable position while she informed me that my bump was a very strange shape and that the skin on the underside of my bump looked unusual.  I’m not entirely sure what she was trying to accomplish with this critique.  Later, we had our admissions trace and my first vaginal exam.  Again, they required that I be awkwardly semi-reclined.  We were unceremoniously told that I was not dilated, in fact my cervix was "barely allowing a finger." 

Our baby bubble was well and truly burst.  The giddy excitement with which we had arrived at the hospital, anticipating the birth of our baby, had been replaced by a strong suspicion that maybe my body was just not working properly.  I asked, “You’re saying I’ve gone backwards, even though I’m having contractions?”  The midwife shrugged her shoulders and just kept repeating the same weary comment about her fingertip.  She told us that, although I was not "in labour," it was hospital policy for us to be admitted because my waters were trickling.  In hindsight, we should have just gone home, but being so green and unsure of ourselves we did as we were told and made our way up to the ward. 

The first midwife we met there was very young and had a positive mental attitude.  Gentle and smiling, she advised us to disregard the comments of the admissions staff, reassured us that vaginal exams are not an exact science and encouraged us just to carry on awaiting the birth of our baby.  I tried to take her good advice on board, and my husband was also trying to keep me focused and positive.  However, after three miscarriages and the caesarean birth of our first child, my fragile self-confidence was all too easily shattered.  I realise now that because of my history I possibly needed to be treated with kid gloves.  Throughout the day, the paradigm that says, "Birth is scary and dangerous" was accompanied in my subconscious mind by the paradigm which believed that my body was somehow flawed and unable to meet the demands of pregnancy and childbirth.  Our paradigms control our perception, and we generally attend only to what is in harmony with our paradigms and to think thoughts and feelings that are supported by those paradigms.  They act as a filter.  Due to these inappropriate and inaccurate beliefs, I was unable to focus on any of the positives going on and could only focus on the negatives.

How I wish that lovely young woman could have stayed by our side throughout the night, but it was late in the day and her shift was coming to an end.  She had been too busy to spend much time with us.  A very different midwife took her place.  The first thing she said after meeting us was that she thought it would be best if I took some pethidine.  We were taken aback, as our birth plan clearly stated, “Please do not offer pain relief medication.  If we need it, we will ask for it.”  When we explained that we did not want drugs, she stifled a laugh.  She mentioned that she had seen in our birth plan that we wished to use aromatherapy to assist with pain relief.  Again, she chuckled when she saw the little bottles of essential oils arranged neatly in a small plastic box.  She grinned and remarked, “Wow, you brought a whole kit!”  We felt so foolish and feared that the pain of labour would be well beyond our ability to cope.  At this point, my confidence had been seriously undermined.

I was very afraid that if I didn’t start progressing quickly and soon, I would be in danger of having to undergo another surgical delivery for failure to progress, and the fear and stress were making my experience more and more painful.  We paced the corridors and walked up and down the steps for hours in an effort to encourage speedier progress.  We were utilising the shower, aromatherapy, massage, listening to music – anything we could.  Every time we saw the night midwife, she spoke to us in a condescending and slightly ominous tone.  At one point, she said something to the effect of, "If you are not in labour by 11 p.m., we will have to give you antibiotics because your baby will be in danger of infection.”  It felt like a warning of dire things to come.  Also, I understand that, medically speaking, there is a difference between the latent phase and the active phase of labour.  However, to a lay person who has been experiencing ever more powerful, regularly spaced contractions over many hours and whose waters are leaking, that is the definition of labour!  To be told repeatedly that you are not in labour when your experience is clearly telling you otherwise, especially when you are tired and in pain, begins to make you believe you may be losing your mind.

This midwife was anxious to be rid of us for several reasons.  First, she repeatedly offered us pethidine, which we repeatedly refused.  She never seemed to get her head around the fact that we did not want pain medication.  Second, I was too noisy and presumably disturbing the other women on the ward.  We were and are confused since women making noise must be commonplace in a maternity hospital.  I had read the famous books, “Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth” and “Birthing From Within,” and in these and other sources I had studied during my pregnancy, I learned that utilising vocalisation and chanting techniques with a wide-open jaw was one method of encouraging the cervix to open.  I was not screaming wildly in agony but deliberately applying an acknowledged technique of coping with labour pain and assisting the efforts of the uterus to contract and open the cervix efficiently.  I can see now that it was much too early in my labour to be attempting methods such as this, but again I was in a panic and trying to avoid surgery in whatever way I could.  I am truly very sorry that I made our midwife’s job so difficult that night and that I was disruptive to the other mothers on the ward, but I hope that readers can understand our perspective, too.  We were facing our first labour scared and alone.

The final straw for our midwife came in the middle of the night when my waters officially broke and spilled all over the floor of the room.  In response to this, she remarked in an exasperated tone, "A pair of panties and a pad wouldn't go astray, Kali.  You are not on the labour and delivery ward."  I can recall thinking, "A pad is not going to do a thing about the 12 litres of water that just poured out of me!"  I will never forget my poor husband taking towels out of our overnight bags and trying to mop up the floor, apologizing to her.  We felt like small children who had been scolded.

She insisted on performing another vaginal exam, despite the fact that I begged and pleaded with her not to because I could not handle any more bad news at that point.  Although I was only 2 cm dilated, we were banished to the labour and delivery ward.  She explained to us that we would have access to gas and air downstairs, and believe it or not some people can survive labour using only entonox.  She still could not understand what we were trying to accomplish or what we needed to be successful.  Even though we had spent good money as private patients to purchase a private room, it seems we were not permitted to labour on the ward unless I was highly medicated, quiet and docile in the bed paging through a glossy magazine.

My contractions were becoming more serious, and at the time I was glad to be leaving that midwife, who was clearly not on our wavelength.  However, if I had known better, I would have fought to stay on the ward.  At least there we had access to the shower and could labour in the dark room.  When we arrived in Suite 3, several midwives were there in a huddle, clearly perturbed and flustered.    They flicked through our birth plan and discussed it amongst themselves in hushed, angry tones.  We heard remarks such as, "This is ridiculous!"  One of the midwives asked my husband, "Didn't you discuss any of this with your obstetrician?" 

We had, of course, discussed the birth plan with Dr. Prince.  To be honest, I did include an item to which she had not agreed, namely that I did not want to be subjected to continuous electronic fetal monitoring and wanted the option to labour in water.  I was well aware of the limitations and risks of CTG and was keen to see, quite frankly, if I could get away with it.  Everything else in the birth plan, however, was truly almost commonsense.  We simply could not understand why everyone was so enraged.  They seemed to be offended by our very presence.  Was it because of our birth plan?  Was it because they did not want to attend a “high-risk” VBAC?  Was it because we should not have been sent downstairs at only 2 cm dilation?  For some reason, we seemed to have incited a rebellion.  At any rate, we were abruptly informed that our birth plan was out of line and that I had no choice but to be hooked up to the CTG.  Everyone left except for the one midwife to whom we had been assigned.

While in L and D, rather than being chastised, we were being ignored.  I had written in our birth plan that I preferred a quiet room with conversations, interruptions and questions kept to a minimum.  By this, I meant to say that I did not want people to and fro in and out of the room or to have to discuss the latest episode of some television programme with anyone.  I did not mean that encouragement and advice from our midwife was unwanted.  I assumed that this was a given.  Yet she seemed to follow this particular request to the letter and barely looked at or spoke to us throughout the many hours we were in her care.  Her eyes and focus remained fixed on the monitor.  It seemed to us as though she was on some sort of work-to-rule.  I cannot ever remember her looking me in the eye until the end of her shift when she wished me all the best and left.

Simultaneously, she disregarded my request for a quiet room by having Red FM blaring from a radio, and the place was lit up like the Fourth of July in spite of my request for dim lighting.  Every once in a while, she pleasantly and casually remarked, “You’re doing fine” while continuing to look at the monitor.  She also occasionally held out the mouthpiece when she noticed a contraction coming and reminded me, “Use your gas and air.”  Again, I was not allowed to make any sort of sound and had to put something into my mouth to stifle any labouring sounds.  She did not seem to understand that I was putting down the mouthpiece because I didn’t want to use it.  For one thing, it was making me feel a bit queasy and extremely thirsty.  In addition, it was preventing me from opening my jaw during contractions, which was necessary for me to employ the aforementioned vocalisation technique.  Time and again, we asked if the sound on the monitor could be turned down or if it could be positioned in such a way that we could not see it, as it had become a major source of distraction and worry, but she was unwilling to reach a compromise on this.  My husband and I were both so exhausted and tormented, feeling somehow shamed and rejected, that neither one of us even had the courage to move or speak to change the conditions in which we found ourselves. 

I did have moments of clarity during which I attempted to escape my plight.  On three separate occasions (once when our midwife was on a tea break and we had a replacement whom I hoped would be more understanding), I tried to use the toilet, sure that the cursed belts would be removed temporarily and I could get a brief respite.  I was hoping to try another technique about which I had read in Ina May's book, sitting on the toilet backwards in order to facilitate dilation.  No luck.  On each occasion, the midwife followed me into the toilet, pulling the monitor along with me as my husband helped me to walk amidst all the wires.  The result was that I did not successfully manage to use the toilet all night long.  When I was finally hooked up to the epidural, urine gushed into the catheter bag.  Such a full bladder surely would have impeded the baby’s descent.  I also begged repeatedly to be allowed a 5-minute shower or bath to help with the labour pain.  I was denied again and again, and in response to my final request our midwife impatiently demanded to my husband, "Put an end to this!"  I have spoken to other women who were permitted brief intervals without the CTG to use the toilet at the very same hospital, and I do not understand why I was not allowed this common courtesy.

At some point, I looked at the clock and realised with relief that morning, and a change of shift, was coming.  I asked at what time did Dr. Prince normally arrive at the hospital.  I was desperate to see her, sure that a familiar face and her reassuring demeanor would turn things around for us.  I knew she would tell me that what I was experiencing was all completely normal and that I was doing a great job.  However, by the time Dr. Prince arrived, the damage had already been done.  I was still at 4 cm, and my cervix had begun to swell.  In addition, the baby had developed a caput, and the CTG had picked up early decelerations in our baby’s heartbeat.  I was put on an epidural for two hours in an attempt to reduce the swelling and get things back on track, but to no avail.  It was not going to happen.  Our VBAC attempt was over, and we were taken to theater. 

To be fair, our second caesarean birth was a much more positive, family-centered experience than we had had during the birth of our first child, and fortunately neither my son nor I suffered any serious physical side-effects.  Dr. Prince allowed me to have immediate skin-to-skin contact, and I wept with joy as I felt my gooey, slimy baby all over my naked chest.  She also never revealed our baby's gender to us.  They lowered the screen just in time for me to see a baby being lifted up out of me.  His back was to me, but I saw something dangling between his legs!  What a thrill to see for myself that our precious little Spud was a boy. Then, she turned him around towards me, and I could see two huge blue eyes gazing around the room, awake and alert and raring to go.  The anaesthesiologist was also nothing less than brilliant.  She absolutely mothered me, helped me to sip water from a straw, informed me of everything that was happening and put me at ease every step of the way.  She even checked in with us later on when we were in the recovery room to congratulate us. 

Similarly, the second midwife who attended us after the change of shift was equally amazing.  By this time, I had been given an epidural in a last-ditch effort to reduce the swelling in my cervix, so “labour” as such was no longer in progress. She talked to me gently about my disappointment over not having a vaginal birth, and she reminded the surgical team about my wishes for skin-to-skin.  She was chatty and encouraging, relating her own experiences as a mother of four to my own journey of growing into motherhood.  Having a midwife present with me during the caesarean made a huge difference in terms of my ability to handle a challenging situation, and in a way I enjoyed the birth.  Although I had desired a vaginal birth with all my heart and soul, ironically it was the surgical team that made me feel pampered, relaxed and focused on the arrival of our brand new baby.  They treated me with dignity and respect and made me feel like a queen before, during and after the surgery.  I felt as though I’d been lifted up onto a pedestal after all the negativity we had endured during the labour.  Perhaps I was simply relieved that my ordeal with the midwives was over.

(end of birth story)

Our Baby Boy Bamm-Bamm was born on Friday afternoon at 1:35 p.m., and later that evening I was alone with him for the first time when my husband went home to be with Pebbles and relieve Nana and Pop of their child minding duties.  For as long as I live, I will never forget sitting on the hospital bed staring at the blank white wall in front of me holding an 8 lb. 6 oz., healthy, strong, eagerly nursing newborn in my arms and feeling absolutely certain that I was going to die.  I had no idea how anyone could ever possibly right this wrong.  How could I have allowed this to happen again?  I felt so deeply ashamed of myself and humiliated, I was sure I could never look at myself in the mirror again, let alone look my son in the eye and explain this.  I couldn't even stand to be in the same room with myself.  I was draped in self-loathing, having let down myself and this precious child so.  I couldn't even face him.  He deserved a better mother than me.  To add insult to injury, Dr. Prince came to see me on Monday morning and told me that if we were to have any more children they would have to be delivered by elective c-section.  I would now never birth my own child.  I was completely and utterly devastated.

These dark emotions haunted me for many months.  It goes without saying that I am eternally grateful to have a healthy, happy son and a longed for younger sibling for our daughter.  Yet I suffered from post-natal depression, devastated that I had been unable to give my son the normal birth every baby deserves, and this had a major impact on our family and on the earliest days of my son’s life.  There was no medicine I could take to keep me going and to sustain me except to gaze at him and Pebbles lovingly and endlessly and try to summon up the strength to go on.  I knew I could not simply dissolve and leave two motherless babies behind.  Even if I was a failure and a good-for-nothing, I was still their mother, and every baby needs a mother.  Although we had always planned to have three children, I was sure I would have to give up that dream.  I couldn’t go through another surgery.  

I did not die in hospital, but the woman I was, in no uncertain terms, was annihilated that day.  My day of reckoning had come.  I could almost physically see all of my beliefs, assumptions, desires and values falling to pieces like broken glass raining down on me, cutting and scarring me as the caesarean knife had done.  I had been hollowed out, traumatised, empty of my baby, empty of myself.  Again, I lay weary and broken in a hospital bed, the sheets crisp and crimson with dried blood.  Again, I was maimed and branded a failure.  Yet this time, I had a secret weapon.  I had actually laboured.  Although I had not enjoyed the enthusiastic support, companionship and calm presence of a skilled, experienced midwife, my husband had been wonderfully encouraging and tirelessly supportive throughout, even though he was just as scared and confused as I was.  Somehow, in spite of a disastrous cascade of events, working with him had enabled me to access some other plane of existence beyond my everyday world.  I was not permitted to enter, but beneath the groggy veil of birthing hormones it was within arm's reach, a promised land where a different life path and a better world in which to raise our family lie.  The altered state of consciousness I had entered during labour had provided me with an escape hatch into another realm outside the boundaries of my subconscious inner fearscape.  In those early days, I had yet to find it, but I knew that it was there.  As a result, something in me rebelled when I heard my doctor pronounce my lifelong sentence of prohibition against vaginal birth.  My intuition told me that this could not possibly be right, that more surgery could not be the answer and could never fix what ailed me inside or out.  I had to find the answer.  I held tight to my baby through my tears and anguish, groping in the darkness of my despair and inner turmoil, until at last I found it and won my freedom.

My quest has led me to spend the past 16 months reading and studying various sources and doing some serious soul searching in an attempt to understand how I failed so spectacularly in my VBAC attempt.  One of my great discoveries has been the philosophies of the functioning and faculties of the mind, and the power each of us has to control and direct the mind, to which I have alluded in previous posts.  My acceptance and understanding of these ideas may never have been possible but for the caesarean births, which primed my mind to receive the information.  I will dedicate my next post to describing these in detail.  However, of equal importance was the self-examination which I undertook, endeavouring to discern the role I played in all this and, without an attitude of judgement or accusation, to seize this opportunity and to use this tragedy to create positive change in my life and the lives of my family.  Michael Beckwith has said that in any situation, no matter how challenging, we must accept it, harvest the good and forgive all the rest.  Similarly, Napoleon Hill asserted that within every failure or difficulty there is always a seed of an equivalent benefit if one is open to receiving it.  This is wise advice which I have dedicated myself to following.  I have been challenged to face up to some very hard realities and questions, but through this I have begun to realise the true gifts of my caesareans (apart from my radiant, healthy, gorgeous children, but of course that goes without saying!!!), which have actually revolutionised my life and my thinking.  I can see clearly that the way I was living and choices I made before and during the pregnancy, not just once I went into labour, led to the second c-birth.  

I realise now how incredibly stressed I was leading up to and throughout the pregnancy and how those feelings probably contributed to my being unable to dilate efficiently.  Before I became pregnant, I wanted so desperately to conceive again.  Even as I was walking out of the hospital after Pebbles' birth with a precious newborn in arms who required my full attention, I was anticipating another pregnancy, another baby and a chance to do it right next time.  I was grieving the loss of my natural childbirth dream, but rather than approaching my feelings constructively, I hardened myself.  I was not going to let anyone ever hurt me so deeply again.  It is so obvious now that I did suffer from post-natal depression, although I had never acknowledged it, and it prevented me from fully becoming the mother I'd hoped to be.  I never had confidence in my ability to mother my child, to keep her safe, to make sound decisions and to love and be loved by her freely without inhibitions.  I became full of temper, quick to anger and slow (if ever) to forget.  Admittedly, I was also red-hot jealous that my husband was staying home minding our daughter while I had to go out to work.  This was a sound financial decision which we had made jointly and which has benefitted our family to no end, but I missed Pebbles so much during the long days away from her.  This was unexpected for me.  Before Pebbles was born, I thought that six months of maternity leave seemed like an eternity, and I wondered what I would do with myself during all that time.  I never anticipated that my desire, or perhaps my need, to be with my child would be so all-consuming.  I am sorry to say that my husband bore the brunt of all my unresolved feelings of inadequacy and frustration, and my relationship with my daughter is still often characterised by impulses which are reminiscent of the caesarean:  her asserting herself, testing my patience by doing her own thing, and me reacting by feeling angry and sorry for myself rather than responding in a thoughtful manner.  Fortunately, Bamm-Bamm's birth gave me time away from work to focus exclusively on my family.  Taking the time to reflect upon all of this and make conscious efforts to do things differently has given us all an opportunity to heal, but I still have fences to mend with them both.

My desire to provide Pebbles with a sibling was also a source of stress for me.  I was very concerned at the time that I did not want Pebbles to be an only child.  The miscarriages I had made me question whether or not her very existence may have been a fluke and wonder if another baby might not be on the cards for us at all.  As the months went by, I allowed myself to fly into a panic that I might be getting too old for more children or that my body simply was not equipped to carry them.  After all, subsequent to Pebbles' birth I was informed that she had suffered with IUGR, and I had had 3 miscarriages.  My subconscious mind was prepared to accept more bad news about the inadequacy of my reproductive system.  In fact, the memory of those miscarriages and the pain of losing a baby shadowed me and my pregnancy day and night until around late January or early February when I finally began to believe that this pregnancy would, in fact, end with a baby in my arms.  This fear became yet another huge impetus for me to want to manage and control a new pregnancy and birth.

There were so many other reasons why I was looking forward to another pregnancy.  I wanted to experience all the incredible happiness and specialness I had when expecting my daughter and which I felt had been cut short by her early arrival.   I longed to have and hold a newborn again and enjoy that adventurous first year together, milestone after milestone.  I wanted to have another chance at motherhood because I really felt that, if given a second chance, I could make up for the mistakes I'd made with my daughter, including a less than ideal birth and the aftermath of PND.  And I was sure that having a vaginal birth would help me heal some of the deep emotional wounds I still carried as a result of my daughter's caesarean birth.

Clearly, I had put myself under a lot of pressure to get pregnant again, but I was not prepared for exactly how demanding it would be physically to make a baby and mother a spirited, nursing little girl, all while simultaneously working full-time.  I felt I was spread very thin throughout the pregnancy, and this caused me to feel guilty because I had so little time and energy to devote to Pebbles.  I never knew how much my ability to mother my daughter would be affected while I was trying to make that little brother or sister for her.

Under these many layers of emotion, I was as tight as a clam throughout my pregnancy with Bamm-Bamm.  It was like I literally clenched and squeezed my body shut so tightly that it couldn't release that baby.  No way was I going to let him go.  I would not miscarry this time.  And no one, not even my husband or my daughter, could touch me.  I was a private patient with Dr. Prince as I had been during my pregnancy with Pebbles, and although I believe she is an exceptional obstetrician, going privately was a mistake.  At the time, I thought (or wished) that so many visits to the OB would keep my baby safe somehow, but really all it did was reinforce over and over again in my mind that something was wrong with me and that this pregnancy, because of my previous caesarean and my miscarriages, was somehow "high-risk."  Anyway, why was I hiring a surgeon if I wanted a vaginal birth?

There were warning signs during the pregnancy that I needed to relax and get more in touch with my feelings and my softer side, but I did not respond positively.  It's no wonder I found myself unable to physically open up on the day of Bamm-Bamm's birth.  I actually developed a cyst behind my right eye during the second trimester which blurred my vision throughout the remainder of the pregnancy and up until Bamm-Bamm was three or four months old.  The specialist told me that this usually occurs due to raised levels of cortisol, which is a stress hormone.  He said that levels of this hormone are normally raised a little bit during pregnancy, and this could have been the cause of the cyst, but I think that to say my stress levels had nothing to do with it would be sheer denial.  I read all the right books like Ina May's Guide to Childbirth and Birthing from Within.  I listened to the GentleBirth CD's every night.  But I was living from the neck up.  I thought I could make pregnancy and birthing into an intellectual endeavour.  Like passing an exam, all I had to do was study hard.  However, because I was so emotionally and spiritually cut off, I couldn't integrate any of the important skills and information I was trying to acquire.  All my thoughts and actions came from a place of fear, not love, which is the antithesis of the attitude one requires during pregnancy and childbirth.  You can't take a command and control approach to a visceral/emotional/spiritual experience like birth and mothering and expect it to work well.  

As I worked to turn this story into one of hope and learning, I realised that I had to forgive myself and abandon this grudge forever if I was going to be able to move on. For a long time, my husband and I blamed ourselves and our naiveté for the debacle.  I know that we made numerous mistakes in how we handled the labour.  We certainly could have been more assertive about our wishes, and perhaps I was not as mentally and emotionally prepared for the demands of labour as I could have been.  Yet we trusted the birth professionals to understand our objectives and to make every effort to help us achieve them, and we felt badly let down.  It is impossible to know definitively the extent to which the stressful hospital atmosphere contributed to the need for another surgical birth, and correlation does not indicate causation.  However, I am certain that our birth experience could have been happier, safer and more personally fulfilling if the environment had been more attuned to our desires and needs.  In fact, we believe that it was the hospital system itself, rather than any individuals involved, that was not equipped with the facilities or the policies that would have helped us to make our dream come true.  Now that we know better, we intend to do better.  You can read an eloquent and powerful message which takes a compassionate view of the birthing couple here:

Through my reading and research, I also came across information about VBA2C which, to my surprise, indicated that the risks of uterine rupture are comparable to those associated with VBA1C.  Far from the horror stories one hears or at least imagines about exploding uteri and dead babies, the overall risk of UR during a non-induced, non-augmented VBA2C is likely in the vicinity of 1%.  This means that a VBAC is still very much within our reach and highly preferable to another surgical birth, as it is a well-known and established fact that the complications resulting from caesareans increase with each surgical birth.  After much discussion and weighing up of risks and benefits, we are satisfied that having another child and pursuing a VBA2C is the best course of action for us and our family, and we can’t wait to welcome another child into our lives to love and cherish forever.  At first, I was extremely reluctant to see Dr. Prince again even though she was our obstetrician for both of our children’s births and we always enjoyed a wonderful working relationship with her.  After the fiasco that had occurred during the birth of our son, I felt so humiliated that I wasn’t sure I could return to the same hospital and face the same doctor again. I did some investigating and talked to several medical professionals, however, and it seems that all avenues lead back to Dr. Prince when it comes to evidence-based care and facilitating a couple’s right to a VBAC whenever it is safe and reasonable to do so.  I mustered up the courage to return to "Caesarean Central," as we jokingly refer to it, and ask for support, and both my husband and I were thrilled to receive her wholehearted encouragement.

Our journey continues. . .

I will close this post with a song.  I know it's really a break-up song, but it describes so well how I felt during all those months when I was looking for answers.  Long after I accepted that I was the only one who could heal the wounds within, I desperately wished that someone could make it all go away with a wave of a magic wand, a potion or a spell, a gaze into a crystal ball.  It's cheesy, I know, but this song always made me feel that I was understood.