Why Have One Traumatic Birth, When You Can Have Two!

Within days of Stella being born, before she was even home from the NICU, I was already dreaming of my redemptive VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean). What can I say, I'm a planner. The problem with being a planner is, I plan things out of my control. God sure has a sense of humor when it comes to how He's going to remind me I'm not the one in control... This birth story isn't going to read like Stella's. When I wrote Stellas birth story I was in shock, already suffering undiagnosed PTSD, and coping by reminding myself my next birth would be so much better. With Elliot, there was no hope afterwards. Although the birth itself wasn't as traumatic and he didn't suffer any issues from it, I was faced with a whole new grief. The grief that I would never have a vaginal birth and might never even be able to have more children at all. With Stella, I didn't realize I needed therapy until months afterwards. With Elliot, I knew I needed immediate help. I didn't even want to write his birth story, it felt like a story of defeat as opposed to a story of triumph like Stella. In therapy my counselor encouraged me to write out his birth story like I did Stella. Below is the raw unedited story I wrote. I chose to leave it as it was originally written because I think it will have more of an impact on people and those going through something similar can better relate to it this way. Although I was able to find hope in the end and it was healing for me to write it, it certainly isn't the victorious, touching birth story that was Stella's. With Stella's I right away felt like I could make an impact by telling her story because it was such a beautiful testimony to how involved God is in our lives. Elliot and my's survival was also a testimony to that, but the story just isn't as poetic as hers. The prevail of finding purpose in his story is just now coming to light, but that's a story for another blog post...

Trigger warning: Uterine rupture and failed VBAC

I’m treating this more like a journal entry than a “story” or I guess a journal entry that sigues into a birth story. With Stella it was just so official. I sat down and said okay time to write Stella’s birth story and I did and I was excited about it. When Elliot was first born a small part of me was excited to write it because it is miraculous that he was perfectly fine despite my uterus rupturing in two places (I HATE the word rupture) and him being in my abdomen. I think the main reason I put off writing the story is because with two under two, in the rare cases that I do have free time, I always find myself sleeping or watching TV or scrolling mindlessly on my phone. The last thing I want to do is something that requires thinking and effort. In addition to that I was so caught up in if we’d ever be able to have more children, since we’d always wanted four, but now I’m leaning towards not having any more either way. It was already so hard for me to imagine not giving Stella 100% of my attention. I can’t imagine a third child taking time away from the two I have. I already feel guilty that Elliot doesn’t get what Stella did - my undivided attention. And when Stella’s nap is messed up because Elliot’s crying, or I don’t want to nurse her because all I ever do is nurse children, I feel so guilty because she didn’t ask for a brother. She loves her brother so much though and I know it’s good they have each other, but I don’t think they need a third taking up my time and energy. I digress. I guess I’ll just dive into it. Oh I also feel guilty that I’m writing this so late, I don’t remember all the details like how much detail Stella’s had in it. Although Stella had an entire labor to detail whereas elliot doesn’t have that so I do feel like his story is shorter and easier to write. It doesn’t help that I can hear Elliot fussing in the background during this. Which makes me feel guilty about sitting in the bath writing this and not being there for him, but worse case scenario Jakob can give him his pacifier or give him a bottle. 

The pregnancy was overall smooth, until the end. Within the last month my fundus started to measure weeks ahead. The midwives were concerned and every week were pushing an ultrasound to check the baby's size.

I knew that ultrasounds were notoriously inaccurate when checking the baby's size and if he was large they'd want to push me into an induction so I kept denying. Finally, she told me that it could be extra amniotic fluid and that could cause a cord prolapse. No sooner were the words out of her mouth my heartbeat sped up and my breathing became shallow. My mind instantly flashed back to laying on the bathroom floor at the birthing center, Stella's cord between my legs, and the urgency in my midwives voice as she called the other midwife into the room telling her we had to get to the hospital ASAP. I agreed to the ultrasound to rule out that concern.

After scheduling my ultrasound I texted my friend who worked in business analytics on the way home. I confirmed that to figure out the statistical likelihood of two events you multiplied the chance of each together. So that meant that the chance of two cord prolapses (.01x.01) was .0001%. That relaxed me some. Soon after that appointment I went to a halloween party at my friends house. This friend had had 7 home births at the time so I asked her about her water breaking with them and if any of them had begun with "gushing" waters breaking like she'd had a lot of amniotic fluid. I couldn't get the picture of another cord prolapse out of my head. She said that some of them had been and she'd never had any issues with the cord. This again made me feel a little better but I couldn't quell the concern in the back of my mind. I also texted my midwife from my last birth to find out if I'd had an excess of amniotic fluid with Stella and if that could have caused my cord prolapse with her. She said I didn't and that couldn't have been the cause anyway because I had progressed so far in labor when the cord prolapse happened anyway.

The ultrasound showed that I did have some extra amniotic fluid but not an alarming amount, and he was just a "big baby." Surprise, surprise, they wanted to induce me at 40 weeks. I knew that my chances of uterine rupture increased with an induction, although I never imagined that would be the issue with this birth. I was too busy worrying about another cord prolapse. I begrudgingly scheduled an induction date, but immediately upon leaving the appointment contacted my midwife about switching providers. This was at 38 weeks. There was an OBGYN in the area known for his comfortability and support of VBACs. Luckily, he took me on as a client. At my first appointment he told me he had no concerns about my ability to birth this baby, regardless of his size. I felt a renewed confidence that this birth would just fine.

So 38 weeks, right after that appointment, my mucus plug started coming out, I thought. My doula said it was just from the cervical check with the doctor I'd switched to since it had dark blood in it, but I didn’t really believe her. I thought it was still a sign labor was coming. I think it was two Sunday’s before the birth that more mucus plug came out at church and again I thought “this is it. Today's the day”. Then November ended and I was so upset that he wasn’t going to be a November baby like I was. 

Just pausing to say I’m not enjoying writing this. It doesn’t feel like it’s even worth writing. It’s not a beautiful amazing story like Stella’s and it’s so much later it feels like what’s the point even. Especially in adding in all these details, but I did for Stella so I am for him. And I feel like I need to put in all the details to get the full healing affect. 

Probably for a week or so I was having contractions every evening that weren’t really regular and would fizzle out. That Wednesday we went to the chiropractor and I told him to do whatever he needed to do to put me into labor. He told me he “wammed” on my back pretty hard and alluded to the fact that there was a good chance it would put me into labor. A couple nights before, I think Wednesday night actually, I started having really bad pain at night, which after the fact I realized was right around my C-section scar. Thursday I believe I started having a lot of mucus leakage which I thought was my water leaking like it had with Stella. I was so sure I was about to go into labor.

That night I took a bath to relax and did the miles circuit thinking it would push me over the edge into labor. Thursday night the pain returned and it felt like there was a bulge coming out at the bottom. The pain was so bad and with the bulge I called the doula crying and we agreed I should go to the hospital and get checked out. We drove to Columbus hoping he would come that day but alas no luck. They did continuous monitoring and said the baby was fine and I must have pulled a muscle or it was predominal labor and we just needed to come back when labor actually started. Jakob wanted me to tell them about the possible water leaking but I didn’t want to risk them holding me there and forcing an induction on me so I didn’t. I don’t think it was my water leaking though because if it had been I don’t think he would have survived the rupture.

We headed back home, me thinking it must be that night. I still wonder if my uterus had already started rupturing and that bulge was his foot or something sticking out but I don’t think that’s medically possible. Although we all know medically possible and my births don’t compute. So back at home I was still in pain throughout the day. It got so bad I was crying because I was trying to still pick Stella up and take care of her. At that point Jakob (who was working from home) said we should call my mom to come get Stella so I could take a nap and have a break. I really didn’t want to because I knew we’d be having him soon and didn’t want to miss out on anymore time with Stella than I had to while in the hospital. I wasn't really in a position to argue since I was crying in pain. Mom came, picked her up, and brought one of those rice things you put in the microwave to warm up and Tylenol. I didn’t take any Tylenol because I don’t like over the counter drugs especially in pregnancy and thought I’d heard it could be linked to autism. (Later I found out I was right) but I did use the heating pad and take a nap (the last uninterrupted sleep I had lol).

After the nap I felt much better I was in much less pain. Stella came back home and we had a good evening. That evening contractions retuned and I timed a few but still irregular. I did the miles circuit and went to bed. I woke up in the middle of the night in excruciating pain again. I tried to go to the bathroom and I could barely sit down and stand up. After probably about 30 min I finally woke up Jakob and told him I didn’t think I could do this. I told him maybe it was time to just go in and have a repeat C-section because I couldn’t take the pain anymore and every contraction was excruciating and I was barely dilated. I tried to tell myself during the contractions one step closer to meeting him and keep my body relaxed but it was so painful I could barely take it. Jakob told me to take some Tylenol and lay down and if I couldn’t sleep we’d go back to the hospital. I laid down and another contraction began. I was trying to stay relaxed and Jakob had just laid back down when I felt a pop in my right side, the side I was laying on. I immediately told Jakob that something was wrong and he needed to help me up and call 911. At first relief of pain rushed over me then my entire abdomen was in excruciating pain. Stella was asleep in our bed and Jakob stepped out to call 911. I sat on the side of the bed crying and praying. I was basically yelling at this point through my tears “help me God, help me help my baby help us be okay please help please help.” Jakob thought I was talking to him and popped back in the room. I can still remember the look on his face such concern and panic. I don’t remember that look when everything happened with Stella, I guess because we knew what was going on and the midwife was telling us what to do but with Elliot we didn’t know what was going on or what to do. I told Jakob we couldn’t have them come get me in our room with Stella asleep. The 911 operator agreed it’d be better to be close to the exit. He came over and helped me downstairs, I could barely walk I was in so much pain. I made it to the couch and put one knee on it and leaned over the arm just trying to breathe. Jakob left me the phone and went to check on Stella.

It felt like forever I was waiting I kept asking if they were on their way and finally the operator said they were on the way. I kept asking when they’d be there until finally I heard sirens. They pulled in and came inside and didn’t seem in a hurry at all which I was not happy about because I knew something was very very wrong and time was of the essence from Stella’s birth. They told Jakob to go get me pants, I was wearing underwear and Jakobs shirt. Jakob went to get me pants and brought them down and put them on me then they helped me out to the car and onto the gurney.

In the car I was pretty much silent because in my head I was trying to process what was happening. I resigned to the baby was gone. I wanted to prepare myself for when we got to the hospital and they told me he didn’t make it. I told myself it would just be Stella and I and that was okay it had just been Stella and I for a while I was worried about her sharing attention anyway and maybe this was for the best. I asked them if one of them could drive while the other one did vitals they said no. I asked if they could check the baby’s heart rate to make sure he’s okay they said no they didn’t have a Doppler and asked if he was moving I said no. I begged them for pain meds they said they couldn't give me anything. I just wanted to get to the hospital and get the C-section I knew was coming over with and hopefully have my baby be okay and the pain be over. Much like how I felt when they told me we were going to the hospital with Stella, I just wanted to get there and have the C-section and hold my baby and no longer be in pain.

At one point the man on my left put something away and then said shoot I still need that and while getting it back out said sorry I just woke up. At this point I was not feeling well taken care of at all. Finally they asked me which hospital I wanted I told them whoever one was closer. I heard the guy who stayed back with me tell him to take Lex Ave and “roll hot” so run stop lights I think. Later though I heard them radio saying they were at Trimble and Cook though so clearly he didn’t take his advice and had gone a different way. I was again angry because I felt like no one was taking this seriously, they weren’t even going the fastest way.

We finally got there and I don’t remember being taken out of the ambulance or taken inside, but once inside I remember them hooking up the monitors and doing a cervical check. They said they didn’t know if I was in labor yet but was only 2 cm dilated (still). We talked about how my abdomen was hard even between contractions and it wasn’t softening like it should have been. I told her every time I was having a contraction anttend she just kept saying “I know I can see it on the monitor” I could hear Elliot’s heartbeat and they kept telling me he was fine so I was finally able to relax. Also at that point I feel like I had kinda just gotten used to the pain because I could still barely move but the pain didn’t bother me as much as it had. I guess because I was focused on what to do. I told the nurse I was supposed to have a VBAC in Columbus I told her I’d been to the hospital the night before. I asked what my options were she told me I’d have to leave against medical advice to have a VBAC and go to Columbus because they don’t do those there but she really felt I needed to stay and do a C-section. We agreed what was happening was not normal and something was wrong. I knew in the back of my mind I was in so much pain I couldn’t even make it to Columbus even if I wanted to. I wasn’t even able to move from the gurney to the hospital bed on my own much less make it to the truck and make that drive.

I asked her if I could call Jakob and she said yes. I called Jakob and he said he was almost there. I explained I and the baby were okay but I thought we needed to just do the C-section and that worse case scenario we did it and they said everything was fine and it was a pulled muscle or whatever and I could do a VBA2C (vaginal birth after 2 cesareans). (The nurses overhearing this convo probably thought I was insane.) Jakob came in and agreed. Since the baby’s heart rate was normal it wasn’t an emergency and they took their time getting the OR ready. We also had to wait for the doctor to get to the hospital. I was in a lot of pain and kept asking if she was here yet every time the nurse came in. When she got to the hospital and came in the room and said she highly recommended a C-section which we agreed with. She was very understanding about me not wanting the baby to get the antibiotics and said it was fine if we started them after the baby was out. She was a little snarky when I asked if we could do skin to skin right after saying “this is sterile field we have to perform the exam on him first” (ironic considering they never even changed the shirt I'd worn from home for the surgery.)

I was extremely rude while we were waiting on the OR. I kept yelling about how much pain I was in and "why the F Was it taking so long." Finally they came in with Jakob's surgical garb he'd have to wear to be in the OR with me and told him he could get dressed and meet us in the OR. We headed into the OR and they told me I had to move onto the OR table, which proved to be extremely difficult since I was in so much pain. Then the anesthesiologist had me sit up for the epidural which was again extremely painful but I knew after that the pain would finally cease. It was such a relief when the pain in my abdomen was finally gone. They started the C-section right away, I didn’t actually know they’d started. I asked the doctor after a few minutes to update me when she got started and as she was going and she said she would but she was so focused she didn’t really. (Afterwards when I realized how bad things were I understood why she didn’t.)

She informed me that she had actually already started and my body made “beautiful scar tissue.” (THE IRONY of her saying this about someone with a RUPTURED UTERINE SCAR) my arms were killing me and I kept asking Jakob to massage them, probably from being so tense for so long and finally relaxing. The whole ordeal started sometime between 4 and 5 am and at this point it was 6 am. I also realize now after the fact how out of it I was from the fentanyl in the epidural. I just kept talking about my arms and saying the same thing over and over like a drunk person.  Finally the doctor said to the nurse beside her “yes, it’s exactly what I thought…” which I assumed meant a uterine rupture but I didn’t know to the extent. Then she said that he was ready to come out and he was “mooning” them and wanted to come out “butt first.”

I don’t really remember seeing him as they took him out I think because they whisked him away right away to do his exam. He started crying right away though and Jakob was right over there with him. About 20 minutes later they finally brought him over to me. I was so anxious about him nursing right away, I kept trying to latch him on but he really just wanted to lay on me. Probably the effects of the fentanyl in his system. Jakob immediately started saying how he looked like an Elliot. I told him I wasn’t ready to make any decisions yet I could barely see him at the angle I was at.

When they finished closing me up they asked Jakob to carry him out and said we would meet them in the room. They headed out and the nurses were talking amongst themselves about how to handle my bloody shirt. I told them they could just cut it off and throw it away I didn’t care but asked for a piece of it. They cut it off and put a gown on me and took transferred me to a bed and wheeled me back to recovery. When we got to the room I didn’t see Jakob or Elliot. I asked where they were and the nurse said “oh they’re doing an exam you’ll see him later.” I immediately started to panic and hyperventilate and beg to see them and be with them. Another nurse came in right after and said “what’re you doing in here? Dad and baby are in your room.” So then she went and got them and brought them to me. We did skin to skin the first 12 hours or so. After we got back to the room and got to relax and I could get a good look at him I realized Jakob was right, he really did look like an Elliot. Definitely not a Paxton at all. His first visitors were Stella, Amy, and Tom later that day. I was surprised Stella didn’t want to nurse that day but the next day she did. Stella didn’t seem interested in me at all only Elliot.

The next day the doctor who'd done the C-section came in and I finally got to talk to her. She started off by just saying we were good to go home but then I asked her what exactly happened and it all came out. She said my uterus had ruptured not only along the bottom but up the side and when she got in there Elliot was in my abdomen. She started crying as she told me it was a miracle either of us were alive. He should have suffocated and the rupture was centimeters from my uterine artery. If my scar had been just a hair lower it would have tore into that artery and I would have bled out. She thinks he must have came out into my abdomen when I laid back on the OR table for him to not have suffocated but I can’t help but wonder if that pop was it rupturing and him coming out. I also can’t help but wonder if that bulge I felt was a body part pushing out of the uterus, like it had started to rupture days before when I was having all that pain. 

I reluctantly asked her about future pregnancies, already dreading the answer. She didn't explicitly advise against it, but she said if it were her she would not ever risk another pregnancy. If I were to have another pregnancy it would have to be after at least 2 years, I would be high risk, they'd have to do routine ultrasounds to check my uterine scarring, and they'd do a scheduled C-section at 36 weeks. I didn't even have time to mourn my failed VBAC and shattered dreams of a vaginal birth before my mind was hijacked with the panic of never being able to have more children. We had always planned for four kids, and I had thought we may even have six. This would be devastating news for anyone, but especially someone like me with a type-A personality that had been planning my family size almost my entire life and now that possibility hung in the balance. Not to even mention the fact that we're catholic, meaning we don't believe in any form of sterilization or birth control outside of natural family planning. (Natural family planning is the tracking of your cycle and abstaining for the weeks of the month pregnancy is possible.)

That was what I originally went to therapy for. At the beginning of therapy for Elliot I didn't realize I had PTSD from Stella's birth. I didn't realize that Elliot's birth had triggered that PTSD and how traumatized I was by what happened with him. (Although the fact that every night I would get extremely anxious and delay going into my room where the rupture happened as long as possible could have been a tip off). God blessed me with a wonderful therapist though who helped me through all of that, and Jakob and I have realized that our family feels complete as is. We haven't completely ruled out more children, but I don't agonize over whether or not we'll be able to any more. If we ever feel that God is calling us to have more, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Elliot was born on 12/3/2022. Stella was born 6/6/ at 0222 am…. Maybe it’s a stretch but 12/2 is 6 and 3*2 is 6, then the 2022 compared to 0222… and Elliot being the 2nd baby… I think it’s another way God manipulated the numbers to show me he was there the whole time and this was all His plan. When I got around to texting Valerie, our midwife with Stella, she informed me that the same night in the birthing suite Stella should have been born in a baby boy was born there. And his name was Elliot as well. 

Another powerful element to his story is his name. In high school I decided I wanted my sons name to me Paxton. We talked about choosing Paxton for a boy during Stella's pregnancy then when we found out this pregnancy was a boy there was little debate over what his name would be. Shortly before I gave birth, within the last few weeks of pregnancy, Jakob came home from work and proclaimed, "I know the baby's name." I asked him what he was talking about since the baby already HAD a name and it was Paxton. He told me a client had come in with the last name Elliot and there were many strong, successful people named Elliot and it was the perfect name. After days of him wearing me down i agreed that I could only picture Paxton as the name of a baby with dark hair, and so if the baby was born with light hair he could be an Elliot. Low and behold, Elliot was born with dark hair but looked nothing like a Paxton and was very clearly an Elliot. Later we looked up the meaning of the name Elliot and found out it meant "The Lord is my God." And how true that statement is, without him my life would be very different. Well, arguably without him I wouldn't even still have a life. Paxton meant peace and that birth was anything but peaceful so I can see why God chose Elliot for his name...

Looking back I realize now I rushed into getting pregnant with Elliot not solely because I was excited to have another baby, but mainly because I was so excited to experience labor and birth. If Elliot’s birth would have been a successful VBAC I know I would have gone on to have another baby, not necessarily because I wanted another child but because I wanted the experience of a home birth. I feel very happy and fulfilled with Stella and Elliot and don’t know if I ever will have more children, I’m leaning towards not. They are the perfect pair and I can’t imagine splitting my time or energy between them and anyone else. I think, no I KNOW, God knew exactly what he was doing. He was protecting me from myself. I’m so grateful I got the beautiful labor I wanted with Stella. With Elliot, I didn’t quite get the birth I was wanting but damn close. There was no NICU stay, almost immediate skin to skin, breastfeeding, never any separation between us, no doubt about his healthiness. I gained much closure from Elliot’s birth. I don’t know what the future holds, whether it’s more children or not, but I’m so at peace with just the two that I have. My two miracle baby’s. My two less than 1% chance traumatic births. I do always like to be different and stand out, apparently my children do too.