Written by Jo Turner, NCT Editor at Crowthorne & Sandhurst Branch
“She really is a miracle.”
They say to me. While many new parents think this of their own children this was my consultant obstetrician explaining my caesarean to me in recovery and why it took so long to get me there after giving birth to my daughter. This all started almost a year ago with a visit to my GP and then referral to the IVF clinic.
7 February 2008
“Do you mind if we talk about your sperm with my sister?”
I ask my husband. An unusual question I grant you and one I never imagined asking. However, we have just seen the consultant at the IVF clinic and my sister is coming to see us tonight and she is training to be an embryologist (at a different clinic I will add!). We know this is the start of what could prove to be a long and expensive process but we both hope it will be successful.
30 April 2008
It is 6 am in the morning. After years of trying for a baby, my husband Ben and I have decided to try IVF and we are waiting for the pregnancy test to tell us if we have been successful from the first cycle. After hours, okay maybe just 2 minutes, we look and the test is negative. I am so disappointed and refuse to believe it despite knowing IVF so often does not work, particularly not the first time. Having tried to get pregnant for some time I have a few pregnancy tests to hand and I try again. After 4 further tests, we conclude that we are pregnant, the test we received from the IVF clinic took 8 minutes to change but it did eventually also say I was pregnant. Shock, excitement and nerves set in. But, being IVF this is very early in the pregnancy and many people still miscarry at this point in time, so we can not get too excited.
16 May 2008
It is the date of our first scan. As we had IVF we have a scan at 6 weeks (included in the ridiculously high price we paid). We will know for sure if our little bundle of cells we saw 2 weeks ago is still hanging in there and is starting to grow. We sit at the IVF clinic with other nervous couples. I have had 8 scans during the IVF process, and I was nervous before each but this is something different, will we get to see our future child? Eventually, we are shown in. And all of a sudden, there on the screen is a blinking dot.
“That is the heart,” says the sonographer.
Can you fall in love with something that looks like a mouse cursor on your computer?
Well I did.
However, only being 6 weeks pregnant we need to keep the news to ourselves and a few close family and friends for a while.
11 June 2008
Just as I am going to bed I notice I am bleeding. Terrified we call the midwife team. They try to calm me down and say that the amount of blood does not sound that much and to try and sleep, if I am still bleeding tomorrow phone again. “Sleep” they say, “as if” I think. However, after a few hours of sleeplessness I finally drop off.
But when I wake in the morning I am still bleeding. The midwife team are great and get me an appointment in the afternoon at the Early Pregnancy Unit. Luckily my husband can rearrange meetings and arrives at the hospital just in time to come in with me. The sonographer quickly scans me and reassures us that everything looks okay. I burst into tears with relief. After seeing the doctor to be told that bleeding is “just one of those unknowns” we are sent home.
I continue to bleed a little throughout the whole of my pregnancy, never as much as these few hours on this day but more than I would expect and each time I see a health professional I am told that it is “just one of those unknowns”.
25 June 2008
It is the day of our 12-week scan. I seem to have had so many scans already but this is the first “over belly” one and I am not sure what to expect – other than what I have seen on TV and films. It is weird sitting in the waiting room seeing all these pregnant women and finally feeling that I should hopefully be like that soon. Our hospital offers a combined test for Down’s Syndrome. The fluid at the back of the baby’s neck is fine from the nuchal translucency scan but we need to wait for the blood test to be certain. This comes back within 2 weeks and we are at low risk. Getting through the first trimester is a great relief and I start to try and enjoy the pregnancy more and worry less.
14 August 2008
We go to see the consultant obstetrician today. Mixed news. My pre-existing medical condition should have no impact on our baby (which I knew as I had researched this beforehand) but I may need to have a caesarean to ensure that my blood pressure does not rise too high (which will interfere with my condition). I am told to talk to the anaesthetist and my neurologist and then come back to discuss the final plan. But otherwise, I do not need any special care at the moment.
I have spoken to someone in the past and knew that I might need to give birth via caesarean. However, I am still slightly disappointed as I really wanted to give birth naturally.
28 August 2008
My 21-week scan today and the panic I had at the start of my pregnancy of something going wrong seems to have eased (most of the time at least) and I am excited as we go to the scan. Everything seems to be in place and working as it should be, but the measurements show our baby to be a bit small. Nothing to worry about we are told, come back in 5 weeks for another scan. The sonographer does not seem concerned, and I am thinking that a small baby might not be so bad to give birth to!
29 September 2008
We have our extra scan today and while our baby is still quite small the blood flow in the brain and belly is good which means that everything is growing as it should. We do not need to return for any more scans. I am very conscious that my bump seems quite small but so long as everything is okay with our baby it does not really matter that I look more fat than pregnant still.
November 2008
First NCT class held tonight. The other people are really nice and I am looking forward to getting to know them better. We are all due within a month of each other and it is nice to chat with people going through the same things as me. However, I am even more conscious that my bump is very small.
27 November 2008
We have already been to see the anaesthetist and my neurologist, and they both say that as my pre-existing condition fairly is under control now they see no problem with having a natural birth. I am hoping that the consultant obstetrician we are seeing today agrees.
After a long wait, we eventually are shown into a room. My blood pressure is taken by the nurse and my bump is measured. I am still feeling positive at this point. But then the doctor says that he has concerns. For some reason even though I know what he is saying is really important I am struggling to listen and concentrate.
“You are measuring very small.”
“Higher than expected blood pressure.”
“Problem with urine sample.”
“Pre-eclampsia.”
“Baby very small due to lack of nutrients.”
The key point is to come back tomorrow to the Day Assessment Unit where more tests will be carried out. Following that they want me back next week for more scans.
We head home quite numb. I had hoped to be talking about caesareans or natural birth but now I am terrified that there is something wrong with our baby. My husband tries to keep me calm, as we are told I need to do this but it is difficult.
28 November 2008
Back to the hospital for further tests. The nurses who run the Day Assessment Unit are lovely and take a lot of time to explain what and why they are doing. After a few hours, we leave relieved. I do not have pre-eclampsia. My blood pressure does calm down through the 15-minute obs that were done, it is raised but nothing serious. There is no problem with the urine. The monitoring of the movements of our baby shows that there is a lot of movement as is expected. The nurse agrees that my bump is a little small but she does not think it is anything to worry about. We go home and celebrate, a peppermint tea for me though! We still need to go back for another scan next week but as I do not have pre-eclampsia I am calming down and will take it as another opportunity to see our baby before the birth. Baby is still in breech though, as it has been at many of these appointments. I vow to do all the exercises I can to turn the baby to the correct position, I still am very keen not to have a caesarean.
4 December 2008
My husband was not sure if he could change his meetings at work so my mum comes with me for the scan, she is very excited as for her three pregnancies scans were only available if you had difficulties so she never saw one. As we are waiting to be called through my husband turns up, hurrah.
We are shown into the scan room and the sonographer does his work. We are immediately told that our baby is still in breech, “darn” I think. Looking at the screen I can tell that there is very little growth since last week. We are then told that the measurements they have would usually indicate (1) the dates are wrong, but as this is IVF this can not be the case or (2) the parents are very small, but as my husband is 6’7” and I am about 5’6” this is not the case; as there 2 possibilities are ruled out there would appear to be a problem.
All 3 of us sit there in shock while we wait for a consultant to come in and explain things. After discussions we leave the hospital with information on ECV (external cephalic version, where the baby is turned manually into a head-down position) and caesareans. We are told that our baby will be delivered before Christmas (due date is 7 January). Finally we are told to come back on Monday for a consultant sonographer to perform his assessment and to go back to the Day Assessment Unit for more monitoring. Dazed, confused and scared we leave the hospital and head home.
6 December 2008
I wake up early in the morning and am conscious that I have felt no movements. Usually, it’s the baby that wakes me. I decide I must be imagining it given the stress of the last couple of days and try to relax. After an hour I wake my husband and together we try all of our tricks to get the baby to move – playing music, shining a light, prodding. Still nothing. After another hour and a half, we phone the hospital and are told to come in.
I expect to be treated like a hysterical woman but the team are really supportive. I sit in a labour room attached to the monitors and immediately hear our baby’s heart beat. Relief once again floods through me. With that the baby starts kicking like a football pro. We are left in the room for over 1 hour to listen to the heartbeat and feel reassured. I can not thank the team enough for letting us take our time.
It is at the point that I think the ECV is not something I want to do. Why put extra stress on our baby to move into the correct position. I am certain now that we will have a caesarean.
8 December 2008
The monitoring in the Day Assessment Unit goes well. Other than being small the tests are fine. We head down to the scanning room.
After lying there to have many more measurements taken we are told that the baby does not appear to be growing which is likely to be due to it not receiving enough nutrients and are advised to consider delivering our baby early so that nutrients can be given via milk or a drip. The sonographer heads off to talk to a consultant obstetrician and comes back with the news that they recommend our baby is delivered on Thursday by caesarean. As we are only at almost 36 weeks and our baby is quite small we should be prepared that we might need the Special Care Baby Unit. We stay at the hospital for the next three hours to be taken through the procedures that will happen, filling in forms and having steroid injections (to help further develop the lungs).
I ask if we will know why our baby stopped growing and I am told that it is unlikely we will ever know. Once again it is “just one of those things”. I worry that all my worry has caused this, stress at work etc. But my husband tells me to stop thinking like that.
We head home and then go shopping. We are almost ready but all the clothes I have bought are for a big baby (7+lbs) as both my husband and I were about 8lb. We buy the smallest baby clothes we can find and they are really tiny. I can not believe that in less than 72 hours we will have our baby.
The next day I finish work, as planned. My friends can not believe I am there to finish up given our news but it helps to take my mind off Thursday. I am still in shock that we will be parents in less than 48 hours.
The next day we also have our final NCT class and tell everyone our news. They all seem as shocked as us. Everything we learnt will soon be put into practise.
On Wednesday I have my one day of maternity leave. As well as ensuring the hospital bags are packed I get presents sorted for Christmas. I have already bought them but have not wrapped any. I decide not to write any Christmas cards as I run out of time, people will understand I hope.
11 December 2008
It is so weird driving to the hospital knowing that I am going to give birth. I pay attention to everything we drive past and I seem to be looking at everything in a slightly detached way but with lots of clarity. Take That’s “Greatest Day of My Life” plays on the radio and I start to cry.
Despite being 6:30 am when we arrive the hospital is starting to wake up. We are shown to the post-operative ward and my husband and I get dressed. At about 8 am we walk together with the midwife pushing a bassinet to the theatre. I did not imagine this is how I would be in the hour before our baby’s birth but I am curiously relaxed.
In theatre, we are warned that the metal on the large lights is like a mirror so we might not want to look at it! I vow not to look there. After ensuring that I can not feel anything the operation starts. Very quickly I feel some pulling in some stomach area and my husband is told to get the camera ready. And all of a sudden over the divide appears our daughter, tiny, covered in blood but making a very small crying noise. She is rushed away by the paediatrician to be checked over. My husband looks torn, stay with me or go over and see her. I tell him to go to her. I lie there craning my neck to see what is happening. We are told that she is fine. She weighs 4ld12oz which is larger than they were expecting, and at the moment all tests have been passed so she does not need to go to Special Care. She is wrapped up and I am finally given her to hold.
At this point, I am not conscious of anything else going on around us. But through the fog of what I am feeling while holding my daughter for the first time, I am sure I hear the words “get another consultant” and “placenta”. I ignore it and carry on looking at my husband and daughter while the midwife takes photos of us. The anaesthetist then asks if my husband would mind taking some photos. This curious question brings us both out of our haze. Why do they need photos?
We notice that the room now has more people in it like that was possible given the vast quantity already needed for a caesarean I think! The anaesthetist explains that the placenta has grown in an unusual area and they need photographic evidence as it is very rare. The other consultant had been called in to verify that had been seen. Photos are taken and the medical team are discussing things between themselves, but Ben and I can not take our eyes off our daughter after being told I am okay.
In recovery, our consultant who performed the caesarean comes to check on us. It is then we are told that I had a Cornual Ectopic pregnancy and they do not understand how our daughter has managed to survive until 36 weeks.
“It is a miracle she is here at all, I am not aware of any other babies who have survived,” the consultant says.
It is at this point in time I realise how special our daughter is. She has battled through a lot to get to us. During my stay in the hospital, we speak to the consultant and her team a few times and sign forms to allow our notes to be shared more widely, with the possibility of publishing this rare event in the medical press.
We can not decide on a name immediately but by the following morning, we have chosen Abigail Grace or Abi. She is the smallest baby in the ward. The midwives are surprised that a baby so small does not need to be in Special Care but the paediatrician has been happy with her progress. I am disappointed that I can not breastfeed Abigail. I keep trying but she cannot latch on. For two days we fed her with a cup as I did not want to use a bottle. But the team were concerned that she got enough food and nutrients and encouraged me to use a bottle. The very small amount of breast milk that I express is added to formulae and she is fed in a bottle on day three.
We stay in the hospital for five days, and I am itching to get home when we are discharged. However, when we walk through the front door the reality of what has happened really hits home. There are so many reasons why Abi should not be with us but she is home and we are a family.
Eventually, after a month of persevering, I manage to get Abi to regularly breastfeed. The local breastfeeding clinic run by the hospital was fantastic. Abi is still tiny but is doing well.
Now, by the time Abi turned one she was just over the 50% mark for her weight. So many people told me that small babies catch up and I did not believe them at the time but Abi is proof they were right. She is almost three now and is a very determined little girl at times, which is tough but then I think what a fighter. She needed to be here with us and try to take a breath (and to be honest that does not always work and I still get cranky which as I write this makes me annoyed at myself). She is hitting all the developmental milestones as she should and looking at her and her friends you would not now know the drama that surrounded her in-utero phase.
My thoughts on caesarean section
I created this blog post after what Kirsty Allsop said about birth and parenting. On reading the articles myself I feel very familiar with many of her points. However, we have come to quite different conclusions. As a doula and AIMS member I strive like Kirsty for women’s rights to be respected and within that I want the care we receive to be appropriate for what each of us wants, not that birth be seen as so awful that we should just opt out and not that we feel there are no choices for fear of being judged.Anyway, with some time to consider Kirsty’s views on birth I wanted to revisit my own feelings after the birth of my son by Caesarean section.
C section recovery
Initially, I didn’t feel traumatised, or horrified. The recovery was a struggle and I felt disappointed and annoyed but mainly I felt angry. I was angry with others talking about their births, I felt left out and not full as a mother – I didn’t have this birth story everyone was sharing. I remember distinctly being so jealous of one friend as she described her labour and birth. She actually had a very traumatic and damaging instrumental birth but in my mind, at that time I thought that at least she had ‘birthed’, she had laboured spontaneously and her baby had come out the way he was meant to. So here I can understand Kirsty’s frustration that so many women feel like I did.
I was chemically induced (for no other reason than being almost 42 weeks) and after some other interventions due to my body ‘failing’ to progress (or baby not being ready to come yet) and my baby’s heart rate reacting to the epidural (that I was told to have to stop me pushing), I had an emergency c section. Some emergency c sections are urgent and life-saving. I do believe mine was necessary but I believe it only happened because of several elements that I felt I had no control over.
My overriding feeling afterwards was:
“Why does everyone keep looking at me with pity?!, I have a beautiful baby! It’s all fine! Stop pitying me!“
I remember thinking that society was wrong as I shouldn’t be made to feel bad about not having had a vaginal birth. That I wouldn’t have to feel bad about it if others didn’t. My feelings were that I hadn’t done it, I couldn’t do it. I didn’t work. I didn’t consider that actually what should and could change was the maternity system that I had my baby within.
Over the next 2 years, I spent time being disappointed, my c section recovery time was long because of an infection and anaemia. I coped with the emotional side by pushing it aside. When my son was 14 months old I fell pregnant for the second time. I told the midwife I wanted to go for a vaginal birth and not opt for an elective Caesarean. I knew this was an option but I didn’t look into it too much as I was absolutely terrified of being disappointed again.
However, I did start to read some resources when I got to around 30 weeks. Still, I wanted to go with the flow, but I realised that just going with the flow may not have been enough last time around. I could have said no to being induced, I hadn’t even been aware of the risks to the baby with being induced. I hadn’t known how alone I would feel and afraid on a ward alone in labour without anyone supporting me as I wasn’t considered to be labouring. Also, I had not been aware of the risks of the epidural and the Caesarean in relation to me and my baby. The risks of not doing these things were made clear at the time but not the risks of c section procedure. Having more knowledge and support may not have changed the mode of birth but it would certainly have changed how I was able to view the birth itself afterwards.
I sought out support from other women who had decided on a vaginal birth, I looked up the current research on the subject which all pointed to a vaginal birth still being safer all round than a caesarean. What seemed important in achieving a vaginal birth and avoiding unnecessary risky interventions was to have as minimal interventions to start with as possible. This was a battle, having had a previous caesarean the hospital protocol was to recommend (tell me) to have electronic fetal heart monitoring, a cannula sited on admission, restricted access to water for labour and time limits to prevent long labour. The research that these recommendations were based on was either limited or didn’t exist, it appears to have all come about the wrong way around. The technology was introduced and then they couldn’t take it away even though it never seems to have been proved to improve outcomes and there are many associated links to further interventions and other risks to mother and baby.
So….. I thought being informed was enough this time. I wanted to birth in the hospital with the NHS rather than at home and I had to fight my corner to request to be treated normally and not have the interventions unless needed. The previous caesarean not only affected my birth first time around but it was a major factor this time around also. I felt I had to change my community midwife to one who knew my rights and was supportive of me rather than telling what I wasn’t ‘allowed’ and I even found myself and hubby having a debate with staff in hospital during labour as to why I was wanting to have a mobile and active labour without straps and machines attached to me. I did have a VBAC, it was amazing and wonderful to birth my baby. But the support I had in labour was shocking, I was seen as someone who may or may not be able to do it. The hospital midwife was still doubting it 30 minutes before my babies head appeared. This is not good enough. The support we get in labour and birth is vital. However our babies are born, Kirsty is right, we should not feel guilty about it, but quite frankly I feel that often those working within the maternity system should!
Birth has no guarantees, and for some women, it can be truly traumatic, no matter the mode of birth. Sometimes birth is traumatic because of what happens to the baby or mother. What also often makes a birth traumatic is the support or lack of support a woman receives before during and after her labour and birth. This is what the focus should be, not the mode of birth or trying to control it.
Instead of campaigning that we should stop focusing on natural birth I support that we should be focusing on how to protect women in labour and how to reduce the number of births that are unnecessarily traumatic. If women automatically had a named midwife whom they knew and trusted (and could change if they wished) throughout pregnancy, labour and birth then this would automatically reduce so much intervention and importantly fear and guilt. Women would feel safer, the midwives would know the women and their history, midwives would be less dependent on machines and more dependent on their knowledge, skills and experience. This is what the M4M campaign is about, and you can read more here www.m4m.org.uk
Currently, in the UK we don’t usually have access to one to one care of this nature on the NHS. It has been called the ‘gold standard of care’ and has been proven to improve outcomes for women and babies but it is a long way from our centralised labour wards in busy hospitals. What we do have in the UK, are Independent midwives, who we hope will continue to provide care for women when new insurance regulations come in. Independent midwives may not be available to all (they are paid for by the client except in special circumstances where they have waived fees or been paid for by an NHS trust) But they are an amazing group of practitioners who not only have the right to practice independently but whom women have the right to access. To find out more and support the continued practice of IMs please visit here www.independentmidwives.org.uk
For those who support the idea of having a one to one midwife, can’t afford or access an IM there are also other regional changes taking place. In the north, there is a group called one2one midwives who are supporting women via the NHS in a one to one capacity. However, they too are facing constant challenges as the GP commissioning groups are not currently seeing women’s one to one care as a priority. As centralised maternity care has become the norm, birth centres, access to midwives for one to one care and home births seem to have become seen as expensive and unnecessary.
Well, I urge any pregnant women to seek information. Disappointment does not come from that. I’m not asking that we have huge expectations about birth and motherhood – what happens and how each of us experiences it is so different. But what we can have is expectations with regards to the level of care we should receive. What is available to you locally? What are the intervention rates of where you plan to give birth and how do you feel about them? How are you treated? What do other women say about their care? Are you spoken to with respect?
No, we cannot know how birth will turn out. But, we can expect support, appropriate care (for normal birth as well as for when intervention is truly necessary – which is more confidently ascertained when one to one midwifery is used) And all of this from a midwife who knows us, who is confident in normal birth not just machines and who is available to us when we have our baby.
This is not preparing for disappointment as I originally thought, it is not trying to ‘get an experience’. It is trying to reduce the likelihood of risky interventions, a traumatic birth or surgery and ultimately trying to ensure the safest birth for your baby which without other medical indications is still vaginally. For me, it is about trying to ‘not’ have an experience rather than trying to ‘get’ one.
Background reading
Tew, Marjorie, Safer Childbirth? A critical history of maternity care. 1998 NICE guidelines – Caesarean Section 2011 www.nice.org.uk/cg132 RCM Practice guidelines 2012
Aidan’s birth story
I had a quiet second pregnancy, the total opposite to my first pregnancy with Aron, who used my insides like a punching bag, 24 hours a day. Aidan was different – he was quiet, like he was sleeping for most of the day, and even some days I would worry, poking and prodding my bump just to get a reaction out of him. So when my due date came and went, I wasn’t at all surprised or concerned. However, the conditions of my birth were going to be different to that of my first pregnancy. Aron’s birth was traumatic and I ended up with an emergency caesarean after his heart rate had dropped to 54 beats per minute during active labour. I had also suffered a small placental abruption after 3 days of back labour, 7 days after Aron’s due date. The result was intense panic attacks for about 6 months after the birth and, as soon as I had felt that life was back to normal, I found out that I was pregnant again with Aidan. I was immediately offered a date for an elective caesarean (C Day) and, unless I went into labour naturally within 9 days post-due date, then I would be back on that operating table and my baby would be yanked out of my belly again. So I willed my relaxed and quiet baby every day from 37 weeks to give me a sign that he was ready to come out.
C Day was fast approaching and I wasn’t anywhere near natural labour – I had experienced some regular tightening, which had started occurring every ten minutes at around 40 weeks, but there was no other sign that labour was imminent. Up until my due date, I had gone to the hospital for regular heart monitoring due to reduced fetal movements – I knew at the back of my mind nothing was wrong because my baby was a quiet baby. He didn’t want to be bothered and he didn’t want to be prodded, but because of previous complications, everything had to be checked. Three days before the said ‘elective’ caesarean I was called in to my pre-clerking appointment where I was hooked up again to a heart monitor. This time Aidan was restless and I saw the consultant umm and ahh at the CTG, pointing to the peaks and troughs of Aidan’s heartbeat. After many, many hours of waiting and pacing the halls of the hospital, the CTG was signed off as acceptable and I was sent to discuss my caesarean with the anaesthetist who would be conducting the epidural and the spinal block. He started talking to me about what would happen during the procedure and I hyperventilated a little inside. Thoughts of my previous birth were flashing before my eyes. Blurred images of medical staff running around my hospital bed, sounding the alarms and rushing into theatre was all I could think about and I felt my blood pressure start to rise. Oh great! They’re going to take my blood pressure and think I have pre-eclampsia. ‘Calm down, calm down!’ I was telling myself. Funnily enough, my blood pressure was recorded as a little high that day…
The day before C Day, uncomfortable and restless, I went to Tesco to do a spot of shopping with my husband and son, and during a brief visit to the toilet, I had a bloody show. I started getting excited – was this it? Am I going into labour, albeit quite slowly as I hadn’t felt any pain yet? As soon as I saw my husband, I told him and he quite calmly told me to call the hospital who had advised me in my pre-clerking appointment to inform them of any progress relating to labour, however large or small. We arrived at the maternity ward for the umpteenth time and had to wait an hour before we were, yet again, hooked up to the CTG. I was contracting every ten minutes but the contractions were not painful. After the CTG we waited for around 6 hours and then we were transferred to the evening ward, where we waited for a further three hours, before being hooked up to the CTG again. I was told in my pre-clerking appointment that I was to have no food 12 hours before my caesarean, which was scheduled for 8am. It was dangerously veering towards that time and I already hadn’t eaten for 6 hours. I sent hubby out to grab me whatever he could and at 12am I managed to stuff myself before taking my tablets in preparation for C Day. It wasn’t until 3.30am that we were seen by a doctor who examined me and told me that my cervix was really far back and there was no way that I was in labour. Any hopes for a VBAC (Vaginal Birth After Caesarean) were rapidly vanishing before my eyes. I stayed overnight at the hospital and hardly slept as I was so anxious at the thought of impending surgery and I had no idea what to expect. My last caesarean was such a blur and everything was so rush, rush that all I remembered was being held down by the anaesthetist and my husband to stop me from punching the blue screen down and running out of that room. And now I was voluntarily walking back into that situation!? Was I crazy? You would think that a major operation scheduled for a few hours away would scare my baby out of my body and into my arms, but sadly not… I had no more will left and finally gave in to the fact that I was having this baby the Julius Caesar way.
I must have slept because I woke up at 7am, scared and starving. I stared at my belly, like I was expecting Aidan to knock and tell me he was ready to come out, but nothing. What is it about boys and being statistically “overdue”? I know due dates are only 5% accurate, but it was now 9 days after my due date, and I was impatiently waiting for my fateful operation only a few hours away, yet this baby had no desire to come out. In fact, no pain whatsoever indicated that he was coming anytime soon.
7am turned into 8am, which turned into 9am. I hadn’t felt Aidan move and I was famished. My husband had arrived shortly after 9 and couldn’t believe that I hadn’t been carted off to theatre yet. In fact, no one had come to see me and I was becoming dangerously impatient. At that point a midwife came in and told me there had been a mix up and that I was scheduled to have my caesarean at a hospital an hour away. I really hadn’t expected her to say that and I couldn’t believe that anyone, at this stage, would have the gall to even say it to me. Not only had I waited over 9 hours to be seen after documenting my bloody show, but I hadn’t eaten for over 12 hours, on instruction from the consultant who waltzed in at 3.30am and rather casually told me that I was nowhere near ready to give birth naturally and that, if I wanted to (!), I could stay overnight to prepare for the c section in 5 hours’ time. Hubby was so angry and walked off out of the room, leaving me speechless and wondering what I was going to do next. I was told that I couldn’t even eat otherwise I would have to wait until the next day for my operation. I was told that I needed to pack my things and get ready to leave for a hospital I had never been to before. Hubby came back and told me that he had complained about the whole situation and that he was totally surprised by the lack of communication, at which point a consultant came in and told me that a caesarean had been scheduled for 10.30 (half an hours’ time) and I was to get ready now. I was so confused and so taken aback at these sudden turn of events that I just put on my blue gown in silence and walked to the theatre room quietly, accompanied by a midwife and hubby trawling behind me with all the bags.
The moment I had entered the theatre room, all thoughts of previous events had vanished. The room seemed much, much bigger and the operating table seemed tiny. I glanced over at my name on the whiteboard and noticed ‘Level 3/4’ under my name. I only knew what that meant because I was a Level 1 caesarean last time, i.e. a crash caesarean. I hadn’t noticed any of the high-tech computers before and couldn’t believe how many members of the medical team there were, most of them being women.
The medical staff introduced themselves to me and everyone was perfectly sweet and nice. I noticed music from a radio was playing in the background. I was told to sit down on the bed, so that the anaesthetist could explain the procedure of the epidural to me, which was going to be administered first. I knew the lady was trying to calm me down as she told me to bend over the pillow they gave me and slouch my back. ‘Don’t worry this is the hardest and most painful bit’. Really? The hardest bit is sticking a needle in my back whilst I still have control over my legs and bladder? No, my dear, the hardest bit is getting me to lie back down on that table and willingly allow the surgeon to stick that blue screen up and slice me open. That’s the hardest thing to do, not a needle in my back! But I kept quiet and I breathed in and out deeply and, my goodness, I wasn’t expecting the sting! In hindsight, she was right, it was the most painful bit…
I felt the painkillers work almost instantly as I was guided to lie down on the table and sprayed with cold water all over my body. I wanted to be absolutely sure that the painkillers had numbed my pain senses before they cut me open, so I kept telling them to spray until I couldn’t feel it anymore. I looked over at one of the medical team and told her to, “Please be sure and spray again,” and she had told me that she hadn’t stopped spraying the whole time. They were ready to begin…
The blue screen went up and everyone started shuffling around the table, talking amongst themselves. Someone was holding my hand and talking to me on my right hand side and hubby was given a chair to sit down next to me on the left. He was talking to me about something, I couldn’t remember, I kept staring at him and I suddenly felt cold and tired. The lady on the right holding my hand noticed I was shaking and told me that my blood pressure would start to lower, which was perfectly normal, and inserted something into my drip which woke me up a bit. I kept thinking about coffee. I remember why I thought about coffee in that instance, when the blue screen went up. During my first caesarean, when everything was so crazy around me and I was so scared for mine and Aron’s lives, this man – the anaesthetist – was so fantastic in calming me down that I wanted to send him something afterwards. During the whole traumatic process of Aron’s birth, he kept talking to me about going for a coffee because I hadn’t touched a drop throughout the whole of Aron’s pregnancy. “How does that sound, eh? A nice big cup of coffee after everything, where you can sit with your new baby and drink in peace,” he smiled at me. If he and hubby were not in that room that day, I would have succeeded in knocking that blue screen down and who knows what would have happened then. I will never forget that… So there I was, thinking about coffee, and staring at my husband and this lady talking to me about something to do with cameras and taking pictures. The lady even showed hubby a picture on her camera which prompted him to start taking pictures himself. I had no energy to argue or tell him to not document this situation, but I, somehow, felt quite relaxed and kept thinking about what my baby would look like. The pressure on my belly wasn’t so strong either, not like last time, when I felt the medical staff rearranging my insides. But this time round, I felt some pressure, but not much. What a difference the spinal block makes!
I heard the surgeon say, “Ooh, we woke him up,” and, “He’s a big ‘un,” and asked me if I wanted to see him. Of course I want to see my baby, let me see my baby! They brought the blue screen down for just a moment and this big beautiful dark-skinned baby boy came into view, with this amazing head of dark brown hair.
Such an overwhelming wave of emotion came over me that I don’t believe there are words in the English dictionary to describe it. A mixture of, perhaps, relief, love and pride washed over me instantly and I couldn’t hold back the tears. There are three very memorable moments, which I pin down as the happiest moments in my life – my wedding, having Aron placed in my arms after a traumatic 3 days of labour and birth, and the above picture, seeing Aidan held out in front of me, so relaxed and so, so beautiful. He looked so developed and his skin was perfect, like he’d had a nice scrub before he decided to meet his mum and dad.
Aidan started roaring – not crying – roaring. He was a beautiful beast at 9lbs 7oz and was taken to the room to be cleaned up, weighed and checked over. He was given an APGAR score of 9 and looked fit and healthy.
Aidan was handed over to me and it was the first time in the whole 9 months that I had realised that I was a mother of two baby boys. I married my husband in September 2009 and by March 2012 I was a wife and mother of two boys – within three years!
I handed Aidan over to hubby, so I could wipe away my tears of happiness and hubby proudly cuddled Aidan, taking a mental picture of his beauty and whispering how we were going to give Aidan and his older brother, Aron, the best that we could, even if it meant working day and night. I waited a further twenty minutes to be stitched up and we were then told that we were ready to go. I thanked everyone for taking Aidan out in one piece and for making this procedure a much more relaxed event for hubby and I. Everything was so different to last time for all the right reasons. The midwife, once back at the maternity ward, warned me that there might be some issues breastfeeding for the first time and that I was to encourage skin-to-skin contact for at least half an hour first before trying, so as not to feel dejected if breastfeeding wasn’t successful. Haha! No family member of mine has ever had an issue with eating! As soon as I placed Aidan on my chest, he started rooting for milk and as soon as I was left alone in the ward, he started feeding.
That night, Aidan didn’t leave my chest and I didn’t sleep, even though I was so tired. I kept staring at my new baby and told myself that there would be plenty of time to sleep later. Right now, I wanted to enjoy my beautiful baby boy who gave me such a perfect second birth, even if he was taken out whilst he was asleep.
Aidan Giray Preston, my quiet baby, so strong and content, was born on Thursday 5 April 2012, at 12.01pm and weighed in at a healthy 9lb 7oz. Aidan, you have not only made hubby and I the happiest people in the world, but Aron has never been so proud to be your older brother. You have given him a friend for life. Welcome to our family!
Having been chilled to within an inch of my life on Monday morning, I got a call from the lovely midwife I had spoken to last week asking me to come in for some monitoring so the registrar could “agree for me to postpone my induction by 24 hours”. I chuckled but I thought I might as well play the game, seeing as how I had expected to have that very conversation on Tuesday morning, anyway.
So after lunch, in we trooped to Lister and after a large dose of sitting around in what can only be described as a sweatbox, the lovely registrar came to see me about my “specific issue”. That did throw me temporarily, but I rallied and ran through all the research I had done and why I wanted to wait longer than 42 weeks before considering an induction.
We discussed NICE guidelines and RCOG guidelines (or rather I discussed them) and in the end we agreed that monitoring would happen until 43 weeks at which point we’d look and see how things were moving along.
Marv.
Oh, and while I was there, how about a baseline trace? Seemed churlish not to, so I spent a very pleasant half-hour hooked up watching Alfie get himself all excited, followed by ten minutes of the midwives flapping as the little swine fell soundly asleep and refused to move. Luckily I had a bottle of cold water with me that sorted that minor problem out while they weren’t looking.
The hospital’s push for induction
The one big downer on the otherwise very positive afternoon was the attitude of the midwife who had been so positive. Once the resident and I had agreed, a plan for monitoring her attitude changed entirely and she had a go first at Keith, and then at me, implying that we were being irresponsible by trusting my body over the miracles of modern induction.
She has even written in my notes both on Monday and today words to the effect that I have to be on Red Alert for any signs of change. Because obviously up to this point I had been using my little internal bongo drum as a mere distraction when stuck in traffic. Today I had the joy of speaking to another graduate of the Lister charm school when I went for a scan to check the placenta and fluid levels.
Her opening gambit was to ask me how far along I was, at which point she said, in all seriousness:
“So why aren’t we just starting you off then??!”
I don’t want to be induced!
I gritted my teeth and explained I didn’t want to be induced and I had agreed to be monitored instead… *blank look*… so I need you to check the placenta and fluid levels, please.
Apparently, I am breaking new ground left and right with that place because she had to leave to find out what to do next. She wasn’t finished yet though, not by a long shot. Instead, she started by measuring Alfie’s head, which apparently was off the scale (as she informed us with extreme glee). She moved on to his tum and declared that I had better hurry up because our little boy was getting close to 9lb!
Were it not because I knew already that third-trimester scans have a tolerance of 2lb I think I might have broken at that point. In reality, the printout showed that he is just growing on exactly the same curve as he had been previously and both cord and fluid are looking perfect.
Trying to move things along
So anyway, I sit here this evening bouncing on my birth ball*, looking forward to the joys of my visit tomorrow. If there were no other motivation, that alone would be more than enough to motivate me to get this baby the hell out. I do find it profoundly sad, that something as simple as delaying an induction can be met with such vitriol by certain healthcare professionals.
It’s almost as if they have taken it as a personal insult which frankly is nothing short of bizarre. Luckily I have also spoken to that wonderfully respectful registrar (who said it was “nice to meet a lady who knew her mind” which I took as a compliment), a junior midwife today who was SO interested in our plans for the birth, and most of all the community midwives, who I called yesterday to update and who, to my eternal surprise, were totally chilled about our home birth plans going ahead unchanged.
Now if only Carlsberg did home births, maybe everyone would be that positive! We had agreed to stick a date in the diary after speaking to a lovely midwife on the delivery suite who told us we could still preserve a lot of the important elements of our home birth, such as bringing in our birth pool and being very supportive of what we were trying to do.
The day before we were due to go in, I decided I needed a day of peace to centre myself, and being a chicken, I booked in with the community midwife and had Keith call the hospital to tell them we would not be seeing them until the next morning. Obviously, I could only hear one half of that conversation, but judging by Keith’s tone, the reception to our plans fell below even the usual levels of disgust. I’m not entirely sure, but I believe the point at which he rolled his eyes for the seventh time was about the time we were told once more that we were going to end up with a stillborn baby.
Awaiting the impending induction
The next morning (the 11th) we arrived at Lister for induction. It’s hard to describe where my head was at that point. I was fairly calm about the idea of being induced, I think in my head that day “off” had given me the time and space to reconcile myself knowing that we had thrown everything we could at the situation and that I had complete trust in my husband to help make this birth as positive as it could be.
On another note, I have to record for posterity the fact that we looked like a pair of nomads that morning. We moved into that hospital with everything we thought we might need for the birth–pool; hoses, stereos, CDs, food, baby equipment. It was a two-person job just to haul it around the maternity department for the next few days until someone thought to bring us a trolley.
Time for induction
After my baseline monitoring was done (and I had the chance to smugly watch our baby’s perfect heartbeat for the last time) I was taken down to the delivery suite and given my first dose of Prostin, made to lie for an hour and then sent off around the hospital to see if we could get things going.
On the seventh lap of the hospital, we spent some time in the “wild garden” which was clearly a code for random-patch of-ground-we-ran-out-of-money-to-landscape. I sat on the bench with my TENS machine, slightly concerned that the back labour that had been taunting me for the last few nights wasn’t going to miraculously turn into constructive labour.
Looking back, right there should have been the warning sign that all would not go well, if a baby is in the wrong position to trigger contractions himself, then forcing them to start with him still in the wrong position was hardly likely to improve matters. That afternoon passed slowly, first walking around and then later in the Day Room, which we had to ourselves, the lights low and me rocking and bouncing on my birth ball in a last-ditch attempt to get Alfie to turn.
My TENS machine was my best friend and despite having no appetite, I think I was well stocked up with tea and digestives by the time the evening rolled around and our progress was checked.
Nothing is happening!
Actually, it was the lack of progress because, for all that discomfort, nothing had happened. I mean not a single chuffing thing. Oh, apart from the minor matter of a swab result which showed I had Group B Strep. Ordinarily not something I would have allowed to change my plans, but then I wasn’t in Kansas anymore, and now I was being told there was no way that I could now have my water birth.
It was around this time that negotiations started around what Keith was going to do that evening because Lister is one of those enlightened hospitals where they still send dads home as soon as is decently possible. Frankly, I was having none of that, and even if I had been, Keith was having even less of it.
The home from home room
I think the fact that my notes with strewn with snotty comments about being difficult helped us so when I said I would walk if Keith were made to go home, the staff knew to take me absolutely seriously. Several calls later and the Head of Midwifery (no less) gave permission for us to use what they call a Home from Home Room.
For those of you who don’t know, the Home from Home Room is a hotel-style room the hospital uses for grieving parents who have had a stillbirth. Every last thing in the room is dedicated to the memory of a lost child, which is just perfect when you are being induced with a child you have been told for ten days is going to die because of your stupidity.
Frankly, I didn’t care by that point because my back labour had ramped up after the second dose of Prostin and the only way I could cope was if Keith put his full weight into my lower back with each contraction (or contraption as we somehow ended up naming them).
I was staring down the barrel of the second night of no sleep and I knew that wasn’t an option, so I asked for some paracetamol and codeine and got into a nice hot bath. The bliss!! The unmitigated, boundless bliss of that hot water. I floated there until my toes went wrinkly and debated whether it was physically possible to sleep a night in a bath. Deciding it wasn’t I dragged myself out, and it was then that I had my lowest point in the labour.
I was tired, I was hungry, and despite the best efforts of the midwife on duty in packing me into different positions and Keith in pressing my back, I felt out of control and railroaded by the back pains. I could see I was facing a second sleepless night, and it was the time I most wanted to sit and wail about the unfairness of it all.
The back labour!
Instead, I happened upon a solution and like a drowning man clung to it with everything I had in me. I discovered by a sheer fluke of timing that if I was sitting bolt upright at the foot of the bed when a contraction hit, I could breathe through them effectively. Obviously, this solved the backache issues, if not the sleepless night issues.
I had also made Keith hit the hay because at least one of us would need our wits about us the next day, so I couldn’t even share my newfound comfort with him. And TV is about as interesting as playing spot-the-polar-bear-in-the-snowstorm in the early hours of the morning. All of this meant that I was forced to find some way of sleeping upright, which I did just about manage after a while with the aid of the sofa and a shed load of cushions. That said, I certainly wouldn’t suggest it as an option unless all other options, including sharpened spikes, have been exhausted.
Syntocinon and c section looming
The next morning, we knocked about making the most of that little room until we were taken back into the delivery suite for The Next Step. We met another in a long line of registrars who explained the schedule of events that they were proposing, which in summary involved breaking my waters, with the threat of a Syntocinon drip to follow, and a C Section grand finale if none of the previous steps had done the trick.
Unfortunately, the idea of breaking my waters posed a bit of a conundrum for the staff because by doing so, they were increasing the risks of infection to the baby, and they already knew that I had Group B Strep… Oh what to do, what to do! Well, the obvious solution when creating a problem is to mitigate it with more medicine: In this case, IV antibiotics before during and after breaking my waters.
The amniotomy itself was painless, if an odd experience, one I suspect to be a familiar territory of the old, infirm and paralytic. Although something had gone well with my induction, there were slightly furrowed brows all-around at the sight of my waters. There was meconium, Grade 2 out of a possible 3, which it transpired was old meconium, there most likely because Alfie was post-dates, rather than green meconium which would indicate any level of distress on his part.
In an amazing turn of events, the registrar was actually pretty calm about back, as development and was apologetic about the fact that it meant my previous timetable would now have to be halved.
Alfie still in OP position but still trying for a natural birth
Strangely, I wasn’t surprised, or worried by that announcement. I think looking back I knew deep down that nothing was going to shift Alfie, and that we were essentially just going through the motions. He had been in the OP (back-to-back) position for over a week, which was the reason he hadn’t kicked off labour, and nothing we were going to throw at him was going to change the basic physiological premise of labour so if a baby isn’t pressing down on the cervix, the cervix will not dilate.
I would not stop trying for him though, not now, because he deserved every chance I could give him at as natural a birth as possible. So I got back on my beloved birth ball*, monitors attached, and rocked and bounced and wandered as far as the leads would allow. My contractions were still stubbornly unchanged though, 8-10 minutes apart and slap bang in the small of my back.
Keith had resumed back pressing duties and combined with my TENS machine, each contraction seemed quite reasonable. Part of our caravan of luggage was a folder of CDs, and it was now that I felt like I needed to be motivated by some “doing” music. There was only one CD I wanted and that was Audioslave. I’m not sure how much it helped because there came a point where I was locked in a little bubble of my own, but while I could never tell you what tracks were playing or when the vibe from that music was absolutely right for what we were trying to do.
Time for the Syntocinon
It felt like minutes later it was time for my next progress check and, as predicted, nothing much had happened. The Syntocinon was wheeled in and I was hooked up on the lowest setting, 1mg, which was to be doubled every 30 minutes until my contractions numbered 4 or 5 every 10 minutes.
The only slight problem was nobody had explained the plan to the infuser, and it insisted on malfunctioning every time I was due a dose of the drug. It was quite farcical really, the number of midwives I had trooping in and out of the room trying to make this thing work, and all of them failing to tame the miserable, temperamental machine.
I would love to say I found it amusing, but the extra attention meant that for the first time that day, I wasn’t able to buy extra time because of staff shortages and busy departments. The dose was ramped first to 2mg, then 4mg and on to 8mg and with each increase the contractions seemed to carry me off further into my own little world.
Over to dad to finish the story!
Right about now, I have to hand you over to a guest writer for the rest of the story, because my memories of everything that happened next are confused and patchy. Over to you daddio!
At this point the contractions were coming thick and fast, the monitor measuring Tash’s contractions (which had previously been told meant nothing) was going off like a seismograph in downtown San Fran, and I was trying to fold myself around the front of Tash’s bed to look her in the eye and offer words of encouragement. I must say, you do feel somewhat pathetic uttering the words “breathe, drop your shoulders” as someone is going through what looks like some kind of exploding pelvic experience.
She was then offered further pain relief and was told morphine was available. I could not work out if her reply was muted due to the intense nature of the contraction, or because she didn’t really want it. Anyway, the midwives didn’t hear anything, and so I ignored her mumblings. This went on for a few minutes until the student midwife informed her senior “she has been offered Morphine”… at which point Tash exploded:
“YES, I WANT MORPHINE!”.
We had always planned to hold off drugs as long as possible because you hear so many people with stories of “we got so far, had an epidural, and two minutes later the baby arrived–the drugs hadn’t even taken effect”.
Anyway, Tash’s mind was made up, her drug intake NEEDED to step up. Looking back, I think our error was to assume that when a patient’s request was made, then a reaction from hospital staff would shortly follow. What actually happened was Tash’s request got passed from midwife to midwife, as one either left or entered the room.
Time for morphine!
Anyway, eventually it arrived, injection injected, and Tash quickly went from hugging the ‘head’ of the bed to passed out on it. This must have been mid-late afternoon by now. This was the hardest part for me. I knew Tash didn’t want the dosage to be increased anymore and I knew the midwives were relying on me to time the contractions… yet all of a sudden I was presented with a wife who responded to very little, and a machine that wasn’t showing when contractions kicked in.
Occasionally I would ask if she was going through the same contraction, and I’d manage to make out a response saying that there had been one or two since! I had no idea when I needed to be pressing the “boost” button on the TENS machine as I had no idea when the contractions were hitting – so I kept it on more often than not, it was just great having a button with “boost” on it!
Of course, the midwives and Registrars would ask about contraction frequency and I would just tell them what they wanted to hear. Five or six in ten minutes, a minute or so apart. I didn’t have a clue, but it kept them from turning up the dosage on the drip.
No progression!?
Anyway, time passed by… we must have listened to the Audioslave album another three times through… maybe it was 8 pm… and eventually, a doctor came in to inspect Tash. Hospital timescales are shocking by the way. I remember working out at the start of the day that it would all be over by 3 pm, or else she would be in very active labour. He had a peek and declared nothing has progressed whatsoever.
So here we are, some five hours later than predicted, and still no son. This registrar, maybe the 6th or 7th we’d had the pleasure of seeing, was brilliant though. He sat down next to us, clearly feeling like he had bad news to break.
“I’m really sorry, we have tried everything, and I know it’s not what you both wanted but I don’t see any point in continuing with the Syntocinon drip.”
Tash interrupted and informed the bloke:
“The only way we are carrying on with that drip is if you’re attached to it!”
We had our plan, and it didn’t include a c section, but at every crossroads, we have faced the path we chose was always our own. We were now at a point where, for once, we agreed with what was being suggested to us. Alfie would not make an appearance without someone going in and grabbing him!
Time for a C Section
And so the registrar disappeared, and the midwives prepared Tash. A few minutes later the registrar reappeared.
“I’ve got some bad news I’m afraid.”
It appeared he’d spoken to some higher power, who had no idea about us or our situation and refused the caesarean. Tash needed to have an epidural, and the drip be cranked to 16, and then 32. If Alfie still refused to come, then we would granted our caesarean… in 2hrs time.
I don’t remember if I asked, or maybe it was the anger on my face that requested, but everyone then left the room. I checked with Tash if she was happy with a C section, that this was definitely the result we were looking for now… and prepared to fight for the birth that we wanted once more.
Note from Tash
My mind was pretty fuzzy by this point, but I remember three words going around my head like a claxon when the Registrar said we would have to try the drip for another 2 hours at the max dosage–Pit to Distress. Basically, the practice is to crank up the drip as high as it’ll go on the premise that either it’ll get things moving, or else the doctors will have to perform a C Section because of foetal distress. I was determined that there was no way this was going to happen to our child.
The midwives came in first, to which I fairly calmly pointed out that a) we had been made to feel like sh*t for 2 weeks, being told we were risking a stillborn baby and that it was imperative the baby was born ‘immediately’, b) we had been told all along that it was most likely we would have a caesarean section, and c) that we had just been offered the C section, so clearly you agreed with me. We wanted a C section, and we didn’t want to wait. I had just got into the full flow when they cut me off and said I would need to say it to the registrar. He reappeared and I went through it all again:
I want a C Section!
“We aren’t prepared to have our son on that drip any longer than needed, and now we are FINALLY agreeing with you, and it’s you guys dragging your feet, delaying what you have been saying all along was inevitable. We want the caesarean, so I ask you go away and speak to whoever you need to speak with and state our position and see what they say.”
He clearly agreed with us, and Tash said she heard the midwives say they agreed with everything I said. He reappeared a few minutes later and confirmed we were on for the caesarean. A few months earlier I remember being really worried that an incident would appear; I would have to make a decision ‘cos Tash was so drugged up, and I’d end up making the wrong call.
Now the incident had appeared, and I felt pretty good about myself knowing I’d passed that little test … then I realised the result of my actions … I was going to have to watch my wife be operated on, and my child be delivered by C section!
Now, I’m generally ok with blood, guts and pain, but when certain things are left to the imagination, I can get quite squeamish. Casualty is not always an easy watch for me! So as I entered the theatre in my ‘obese American’ size scrubs I pointed out to Jo (the BEST midwife we encountered over the whole 43 weeks!) that I had been awake for 3 days, was running on pure adrenaline, and “wasn’t really sure how I was going to be with this”.
Jo pointed me to where I needed to be and rolled a stool over to me “you wouldn’t be the first to faint Keith!” The operation was real quick. The screen went up across Tash’s chest. I was head end, so I didn’t have to see all that was going on at the business end!
Alfie is born!
They confirmed Tash couldn’t feel anything below her armpits, and we chatted complete BS to pass the five minutes we were told it was going to take for little Alfie to make his grand entrance. Suddenly I heard a quick whimper, and suddenly they whisked a very small blue baby over to a cot a few metres away to the left.
His hat was rapidly placed on his tiny head, he was wrapped in a towel, and the attending midwives began rubbing him madly. They pulled down the heat lamp. By this point, I was up on my feet, edging closer because I wanted to see what was going on, but I was also conscious not to get in the way. An oxygen mask came out and was placed over the little fella’s face… and immediately you could see him go into shock, arms and legs rigidly forced out in front of him.
I turned and walked back to Tash, telling her that everything is OK, yet I can hear “come on little fella” in the background so I had no idea how convincing my words were. The next few minutes passed very slowly, yet his temperature rose and the breathing sorted itself out. He is presented on Tash’s bed. I asked afterwards, if what I had witnessed was common, or if that’s the way C sections usually went… and was told that was a common C section delivery–why hadn’t anyone told me that in advance so I could prepare myself?
The time was confirmed at 21:34, and with the doctors’ work now done we were very quickly carted out of the theatre and whisked around the corner to a recovery area. Jo, our attending midwife at that moment, helped Alfie take his first feed, and I grabbed some photos of our gorgeous son. An hour later we were rolled back onto the ward, a further 60 minutes later I was turfed out of the hospital.
I’m disgusted that a partner is removed from his wife and newly born son so soon after birth, but having fought to stay one night it was made very clear to me that a second would not even be contemplated! My Dad – dog sitter extraordinaire throughout all this – collected me from the hospital, and I know I slept very well, and very happy that night. As it turns out, far better than Tash did!
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Aron’s crash C section traumatic birth story
This is Aron’s crash C section traumatic birth story, so there are some trigger warnings if you are sensitive to birth. It was a happy outcome and my baby is now fifteen, but the details of the birth were traumatic. If you’ve had birth trauma, it’s important to seek help and talk through your birth with a medical professional. Contact the Birth Trauma Association for advice.
I started having contractions on Friday at 3.30am, and these were fairly mild – a bit like the stomach pain you get from diarrhoea. So, it didn’t occur to me that these could have been the start of contractions, even though my due date had already passed a week ago.
I tried not to wake hubby the first time I went to the loo, but by the second time, half an hour later, hubby shot up in bed and asked me if the contractions had started. I replied honestly that I didn’t know, but the pain was coming every half an hour, so we both deduced that these were contractions and hubby stayed home instead of going to work that day since we both were unable to sleep anyway.
By Saturday at 4 am the contractions were coming every 15 minutes and the pain was situated only in my back. They felt less like diarrhoea pains now and more like a backache you get when you’re on your period. When I went to the birth centre to be assessed, as I felt like I was in labour for a while, the midwife said that my cervix was closed and I was still in the very early stages of labour.
These contractions were becoming steadily worse, but they were still manageable if I concentrated on the breathing techniques I had learned during my pregnancy. So we went home, but by Saturday at 11 pm, I was in absolute agony and my back pain was excruciating to where I couldn’t just breathe through the pain anymore.
I contacted the birth centre again, only to find out they would be closed for the weekend because of the snow, but the lady on the phone heard me having a contraction and advised me to come into the local hospital ASAP. The medical staff monitored my contractions and the baby’s heart on a monitor by a hospital bed, which I couldn’t stop staring at, and they examined me internally to find out that I was only 2 cm dilated.
They told me they were concerned about the baby’s heartbeat, which kept dipping after every contraction. This worried the doctors a little, but they assured me that things should be fine, so they gave me gas and air and codydramol for the back pain and I was told to come back at 9am that morning to monitor the baby’s heartbeat again.
By 9am I was almost screaming from the back pain and when we got to the hospital we were told to wait in the waiting room for over an hour until a room opened up. Hubby was visibly worried at the sight of me during my contractions and extremely annoyed at the staff because one room was taken up by a couple who were planning to have an induction, so hubby complained to a member of staff that my situation was far worse than theirs and that we should have that room.
Aron’s crash C section traumatic birth story begins
That member of staff agreed and told the couple to vacate the room so that I could lie in bed. But after an hour and a half of waiting, I was inconsolable at that point, begging for some pain relief. The midwife couldn’t even give me gas and air because there weren’t any spare cylinders, so I was just screaming inside at the pain now. It felt like the baby was hitting a nerve on my back and the pain lingered on after every contraction. The midwife brought another heart monitor into the room and I glimpsed her worried face and asked her what was wrong.
She replied she had to, “Call a doctor in as the baby’s heartbeat had dropped significantly.” Almost instantaneously I was rushed into an emergency room where there were a group of doctors and midwives running around me trying to sort something out, but no one was telling me anything. I started crying because I was so scared, plus the pain was unbearable. Luckily, the baby’s heartbeat started returning to normal, and they found me some gas and air.
By 5 pm on Sunday, I was progressing slowly and the gas and air were not doing anything to relieve the pain anymore. The Doctor came in and told me he thought I should have an emergency caesarean section because the baby was getting distressed after every contraction. They gave me crash c-section anaesthesia and epidural and I was rushed into the theatre room.
I had no idea what the crash caesarean section protocol was but the emergency cs was the worst thing I had ever, ever dealt with. I felt everything without the pain. It felt like someone was pushing my organs around and I was crying so much, I just wanted to leave the theatre room. I heard the surgeon say that the cord was wrapped around the baby’s neck twice.
At 5.19pm little Aron was born but he had to be checked over as the cord that had been wrapped around his neck had pulled his head back, so every time he tried to come out naturally, his head would hit my spine instead, causing that insanely painful backache. Also, every time the cord was pulled after every contraction, my placenta had come away and rupture. So the longer he was in my tummy, the longer we were endangering both of our lives.
The midwife told me that if they had waited any longer, then an entirely different outcome would have arisen hence the crash caesarean. I’m not sure if she was trying to make me feel better by saying that, but I guess I can count my lucky stars! He would never come out naturally because of the cord and the placental abruption.
I’m glad we had called the birth centre and had been advised to go to the local hospital that night, as I dread to think what might have happened if we didn’t. Whatever the reasons for emergency c section, after 3 days of intense pain and 2 days of recovery at the hospital none of it matters anymore because Aron is so beautiful and he’s such a relaxed baby. PLUS, he’s taken to breastfeeding like a duck to water! He demands my boobs so much, typical man.
As far as difficult birth stories, in hindsight, this one was the worst. But, I’m recovering slowly after the emergency c-section trauma and have a lot of stitches. My haemoglobin levels have gone down to 9.2 because I lost so much blood during the birth, but I’m a tough cookie and fighting fit now.
After everything that had happened with the emergency caesarean delivery, I would still do it again because something so beautiful came out of it.
I have never been more proud of my baby. Plus, if it wasn’t for the staff at the hospital acting so quickly to save my baby, my hubby, my best friend and my family around me, I think I would have definitely fallen apart and little Aron may not have been here.
So I welcome little Aron into the world, born on 19 December 2010 at 17.19 and weighing a healthy 8lbs 9oz/3.79kg. I can already see that he has my skin and hair colour and he seems very relaxed.
Have you had a stressful childbirth experience or know anyone with bad birth stories? Please share your story here.
FAQ
Crash c-section vs emergency c-section. What’s the difference?
Other questions asked were:
What is a crash c-section?
What causes a crash c-section?
How long does emergency c section take?
How long does an emergency c section take?
How fast is a crash c-section?
What does emergency c section mean?
What does a crash c section mean?
How long does a crash c section take?
When is emergency c section needed?
What is a crash emergency c section?
What causes emergency c section?
What is a crash caesarean section?
What is an emergency Csection?
Why might you need an emergency Csection?
Common causes for an urgent Csection?
Common causes for emergency Csections?
What happens if I need to have an emergency Csection?
Indications for emergency caesarean section?
When might an emergency caesarean section be needed?
What’s the difference between the types of Csections?
How common is caesarean section?
Reasons for an unscheduled Csection?
Reasons for an emergency Csection?
What is a crash c section?
What are emergency caesarean sections?
What are the causes for c section?
Both crash c-sections and emergency c-sections are medical interventions performed during childbirth when there are complications or concerns about the safety of mum or baby. While the terms “crash c-section” and “emergency c-section” are sometimes used interchangeably, they can have slightly different meaning.
“Crash c-section” is often used in emergency medical settings or in situations where there is an immediate threat to the life of mum or baby. It implies that the situation is critical and requires immediate surgical intervention. This can occur when there is severe foetal distress, sudden maternal complications (such as placental abruption or uterine rupture), or other life-threatening emergencies.
An emergency c-section refers to a situation where there is a need for an unplanned caesarean delivery because of a sudden change in mum or baby’s condition. This can include scenarios where there are concerns about the baby’s heart rate, problems with the progression of labour (such as failure to progress or stalled labour), maternal health issues (such as preeclampsia or severe bleeding), or other unexpected complications that require immediate intervention.
In both cases, the decision to perform a crash or emergency c-section is made by the medical team based on their assessment of the situation and how urgent the intervention needs to be.
How common are crash c-sections?
Statistics for crash c-sections are difficult to find but emergency c-sections, which encompass both planned and unplanned emergency situations, are a common occurrence in obstetric practice. The Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists (RCOG) in the UK reports that emergency c-section rates can range from around 15-25% of all deliveries.
Not all emergency c-sections are “crash” c-sections. The decision to perform a c-section, whether planned or unplanned, is based on the healthcare provider’s team and their assessment of the health and safety of mum and baby.
For more information on crash c-section rates in the UK, consult official reports, research studies, or reach out to healthcare professionals or organisations specialising in maternal health and childbirth statistics in the UK, such as the National Health Service (NHS) or the RCOG.
What is a traumatic birth story?
A traumatic birth story is a physically and/or psychologically distressing experience during childbirth that can leave a lasting emotional impact. Hard birth stories generally leave the person feeling like they’ve lost power and control and are in a place of fear during emergency labour and delivery.
One of the most common types of birth trauma is perineal trauma or perineal tears. The perineum is the area between the vagina and the anus, and during childbirth, it can sometimes tear or be cut (episiotomy) to help deliver the baby. Perineal tears are classified into different degrees based on their severity:
First-degree tear: This is the mildest form of perineal tear, involving only the skin around the vaginal opening.
Second-degree tear: This tear extends beyond the skin and involves the vaginal tissue as well.
Third-degree tear: This tear extends even further into the anal sphincter muscles.
Fourth-degree tear: This is the most severe type of tear, extending through the anal sphincter muscles and into the rectum.
Perineal tears are relatively common during vaginal delivery, particularly among first-time mothers or where medical interventions, such as forceps or vacuum extraction, are used. Factors that can increase the likelihood of perineal tears include the baby’s size, position, rapid delivery, and the use of interventions like episiotomy.
Not all perineal tears are traumatic for everyone. The experience can vary based on pain, complications, emotional distress, and the overall birthing experience.
Can you get PTSD from a traumatic birth?
Other questions asked were:
Can a traumatic birth cause PTSD?
What are the causes of birth trauma PTSD?
Can an emergency c section cause ptsd?
Yes it is possible to develop PTSD from a traumatic birth. PTSD is a mental health condition that can develop when someone has experienced or witnessed a traumatic event.
The symptoms of PTSD typically fall into four categories:
Intrusive thoughts or memories: People with PTSD may experience recurrent, distressing memories of the traumatic birth, nightmares, or intrusive thoughts. These could involve reliving the intense pain, fear, or sense of helplessness during the delivery process.
Avoidance and numbing: You may try to avoid reminders of the traumatic birth experience, such as avoiding discussions about childbirth, medical settings, or even future pregnancies. You may also feel emotionally numb, disconnected, or experience a reduced interest in activities you once enjoyed.
Hyperarousal and increased anxiety: This includes symptoms such as irritability, difficulty concentrating, hypervigilance, exaggerated startle response, and difficulties with sleep. These symptoms can continue long after the traumatic birth experience and can significantly impact daily functioning.
Negative changes in mood and cognition: You may experience negative thoughts about yourself, others, or the world around you. You may struggle with feelings of guilt, shame, or distorted beliefs related to the traumatic event.
Not everyone who experiences a traumatic birth will develop PTSD. However, if you are, then seek professional help from mental health professionals experienced in trauma and perinatal mental health. Therapy such as cognitive-behavioural therapy (CBT), eye movement desensitisation and reprocessing (EMDR), and support groups can help you process the trauma, manage symptoms, and promote recovery.
Was our birth so traumatic for us that we can’t remember it?
It is possible for birth to be so traumatic that your memory of the event may become fragmented, vague, or even completely absent. A traumatic birth and labour story can trigger a defence mechanism known as dissociation, which can affect memory recall. Dissociation is a psychological response that can occur during distressing or overwhelming events as a way to protect yourself from the full impact of the trauma.
Memory recall can vary from person to person. Some women may have a clear recollection of their birth experience, while others may have only limited memories.
If you have concerns about your birth experience and its impact on your memory, speak to a mental health professional or a healthcare provider who can provide medical advice and support tailored to your specific situation.
How do doctors feel when a patient unexpectedly comes close to dying? I recently had a traumatic birth experience. I want to ask my OB how this has impacted him, but I’m afraid. Would doctors be open to this kind of conversation with their patient?
Every doctor’s emotional response is unique, but their primary focus is to provide medical care to ensure the best possible outcome for their patients. Doctors are trained professionals who understand that empathy and compassion for their patients is very important.
It is perfectly acceptable to have a conversation with your OB about your traumatic birth story and ask if they are open to discussing it. Talking about your feelings with your OB can help them understand your situation and promote healing. They may even recommend you seek support from a mental health professional for more specialised guidance and offer additional information on what to do next.
What is it like to remember a traumatic twilight birth?
A twilight birth refers to when a mother receives medication to induce a state of semi-consciousness or mild sedation during labour. While this helps to manage pain and discomfort it can cause hazy memories of birth.
Traumatic births can involve complications, high levels of pain and medical interventions and this can cause:
Flashbacks which can be triggered by specific sounds and smells associated with birth
Anxiety and fear, especially when thinking about future pregnancies or medical procedures.
Sadness when remembering the pain or complications during birth, which could lead to postnatal depression
If someone survives a major transitional traumatic experience at birth when both the baby mother almost died from complications of the childbirth labour unexpectedly, how would this affect effect the mother of the child?
Experiencing a major transitional traumatic experience during childbirth where both the baby and mother face life-threatening complications can have a real impact on mum’s emotional wellbeing. This can cause emotional trauma, anxiety and fear, depression and mood disorders, guilt and self-blame, bonding difficulties and a negative outlook on future pregnancies.
It is important to seek professional help from therapists, healthcare providers, and/or support groups specialising in perinatal mental health. They can provide the appropriate support to help mum navigate her emotions, process the trauma and begin the road to heal.
Does a traumatic birth negatively affect a baby’s development?
Other questions asked were:
Is birth traumatic for the baby?
A traumatic birth could potentially have a short-term and long-term effect on baby’s development. but it very much depends on the birth itself, the severity of the trauma, child health and the support provided after birth.
Some potential effects could include:
Oxygen deprivation may cause an injury to organs, brain damage or other complications that require medical intervention and ongoing monitoring
Some studies suggest that traumatic births may contribute to emotional and behavioural difficulties in children. They may be at a higher risk of experiencing anxiety, hyperactivity, sleep disturbances, and other behavioural challenges, although there are many factors that would contribute to a child’s emotional and behavioural development.
There is limited research specifically focusing on the impact of a traumatic birth on cognitive development. Some studies suggest that certain types of birth trauma like oxygen deprivation, may have long-term effects on cognitive functioning.
A traumatic birth experience may affect the bonding and attachment process between baby and parents.
Not all outcomes are negative or permanent and with the right support and care, babies can overcome the initial impact of a traumatic birth and develop normally.
If you are concerned about the effects of your traumatic birth on your baby’s development, consult your paediatrician or child development specialist for an individual assessment of your baby.
Is adoption at birth traumatic for the baby? Why he doesn’t even remember the experience, so why should it affect him?
Adoption at birth can be a complex and emotional experience for both the baby and the birth parents. While it is true that the baby may not have conscious memories of the adoption process itself, it doesn’t mean that the experience is without potential impacts.
The separation from birth parents, especially from mum, can be a significant emotional event for a newborn. Babies have a natural instinct to seek proximity and connection with their primary caregivers and the sudden separation could lead to distress and feelings of loss.
Early experiences also shape the brain and infancy is a very critical period for brain development. The quality of care, consistency and responsiveness of adoptive parents can influence the baby’s attachment patterns and emotional development.
Even without conscious memories, a baby may still experience a sense of loss or disconnect with birth parents. As the child grows older and becomes more aware of their adoption, they may ask questions and this could evoke emotions which may require extra support and understanding from adoptive parents.
Some children may face attachment difficulties and feelings of abandonment.
If adoption at birth is traumatic for the baby, is birth via surrogate traumatic too? Why do people feel that adoption should be open but surrogacy need not be?
The experience of birth via surrogate can be complex and emotionally charged, both for the intended parents and the surrogate mother. Babies have an innate need for attachment and connection and the sudden separation can be emotionally challenging for them.
The immediate post-birth period is crucial for bonding and attachment between baby and primary caregivers. In traditional surrogacy arrangements, where the surrogate is genetically related to the baby, the separation may be difficult, so the intended parents must provide quality and consistent care to support healthy bonding and attachment.
As the child grows older, they may have questions about their biological family and will want to understand their identity. They have may have more complex questions or feelings so it’s important to be open and honest when addressing their concerns.
Regarding the question of open adoption versus open surrogacy, perspectives can vary among individuals and cultures. Some people advocate for open adoption, where there is ongoing contact and information sharing between the birth parents and the adoptive parents, as they believe it can benefit the child’s wellbeing.
Some people may feel that surrogacy is primarily a contractual arrangement focused on fulfilling the intended parents’ desire to have a child, and they may not see the same need for ongoing contact or open relationships. However, there are also instances where intended parents and surrogates choose to have ongoing contact and maintain a relationship, similar to open adoption.
Ultimately, decisions regarding openness in adoption and surrogacy should be made based on the best interests of the child. It’s important for intended parents, surrogates, and all parties involved to have open and honest discussions, consider the emotional wellbeing of the child, and seek guidance from professionals specialising in adoption or surrogacy.
Do infants experience trauma when separated from their biological mother, i.e. Primal Wound?
The concept of the “Primal Wound” is a theory by Nancy Verrier in her book of the same name. It suggests that the separation of an infant from their biological mother, particularly through adoption, can lead to a deep and lasting emotional wound or trauma.
However, this theory is not universally accepted or supported by all psychologists and child development experts.
The experience of separation from the biological mother can be emotionally challenging for a baby, as it disrupts the natural bond that forms during the early stages of life. Babies have a natural need for attachment with their primary caregivers, and the sudden separation can lead to feelings of distress, loss, and confusion.
Not all babies will experience long-lasting trauma and many adopted children grow up in loving and supportive families, where they form secure attachments. With nurturing care, open communication about adoption, and support from professionals specialising in adoption and child development, the potential negative effects of separation can be reduced.
I can’t forget the horror of my son’s birth. How do I forget?
Other questions asked were:
I want to start learning and growing from my experience with birth trauma. What steps do I take to the road to recovery?
How do I look after my mental health after emergency Csection?
I’m really sorry to hear you’re struggling with the memories of your son’s birth. While it may not be possible to completely forget a traumatic experience, there are ways to help you cope with and reduce its impact. Here are some suggestions:
Reach out to a mental health professional, such as a therapist or counsellor, who specialises in trauma or perinatal mental health. They can provide appropriate guidance, support, and therapeutic techniques to help you process the reasons for c section or normal birth and the memories in a healthy way.
Share your feelings with a trusted friend, family member, or support group. Talking about your trauma can help alleviate the burden, provide perspective, and offer emotional support.
Engage in activities that promote your wellbeing and help manage traumatic stress. This can include regular exercise, mindfulness or meditation, pursuing hobbies or interests you enjoy, and getting good sleep.
Surround yourself with supportive people who can empathise with your situation. Joining support groups, either in-person or online, specifically focused on birth trauma or perinatal mental health, can connect you with others who may experience birth trauma too.
Trauma-focused therapies, such as Eye Movement Desensitisation and Reprocessing (EMDR) or Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT), can help address traumatic memories and distress. A trained therapist can guide you through these evidence-based therapies.
Writing about your feelings in a journal can be a therapeutic way to process and release your thoughts. It can help gain insight, a sense of control, and promote emotional healing. You can even enjoy healing through storytelling.
I had an emergency c section. Can I have a vaginal birth now?
Other questions asked were:
Emergency Csection and future pregnancies. Can I give birth naturally?
In the UK, the possibility of a VBAC after a previous emergency c-section is considered viable for many women but it does depend on certain factors, such as:
Previous c section details, i.e. a low transverse incision is associated with more successful VBAC outcomes compared to vertical or classical incisions.
Your overall health, including any underlying medical conditions, will determine if it’s safe for you to have a VBAC.
Your current pregnancy may determine if a VBAC is possible, i.e. the position of the baby and the gestational age.
Hospital resources may not be so readily available to support VBAC, including access to an operating room in case of an emergency.
Is emergency c section worse than planned?
This is a subjective question as sometimes each c section has their own benefits and considerations, for example:
Emergency c sections are performed when there is a need for medical intervention because of the health and safety of mum and baby. The unexpected nature of the emergency c section can invoke anxiety. The sudden change in birth plans can create a sense of urgency too and offer less time for emotional and mental preparation.
Scheduling a planned c section allows for better planning and preparation. You have a better sense of control and readiness for the procedure too. You may feel more at ease emotionally because you’ve had time to discuss and understand the process with your hospital. You can also discuss parts of the surgery which involve more attachment like cutting the umbilical cord or enjoying skin-to-skin straight after delivery.
In some cases a planned c section may offer a more controlled environment for recovery as there is time to discuss post-operative care and pain management strategies in advance.
Is emergency c section covered by insurance?
In the UK, emergency c-sections are generally covered by the NHS, which provides free healthcare services, including emergency medical interventions.
In the US, coverage for emergency c-sections may vary depending on the specific health insurance plan. Most health insurance plans cover medically necessary procedures, including emergency caesareans. Review the terms and conditions in your insurance policy, including any co-pays, deductibles and coverage limitations to understand whether emergency c-sections are covered. You can contact your insurance provider for up to date information and ask the hospital billing department for help in understanding the potential costs.
Is emergency c section dangerous?
Other questions asked were:
Is emergency c section safe?
Is an emergency c section major surgery?
Is an emergency c section bad?
Why c-section is bad?
When did c sections become safe?
Can a baby die during c section?
What are the risks of an emergency Csection?
Risks involved during and after an emergency Csection?
What causes death during c-section?
What are the risks of a caesarean section?
How safe is a c section?
Emergency c-sections, like any surgical procedure, carry risks and potential complications. However, emergency c-sections are necessary if there are any risks to the mum and/or baby. Therefore, in most cases, the benefits of having a c section outweigh the risks.
What day is worse after c section?
Other questions asked were:
What is recovery like after an emergency Csection?
What to expect during an urgent Csection?
What to expect during an emergency Csection?
What to expect after an emergency Csection?
What is the recovery after emergency Csection?
How will I feel after a caesarean section?
What is a caesarean section like?
Recovery after you have an emergency c-section (or planned) can vary from person to person, and there isn’t a universally agreed-upon “worst” day. However, there are certain common patterns that some mums may experience during their recovery. Here are some general milestones:
The first few hours following a c-section can be difficult as the effects of anaesthesia wear off and you feel the initial pain and discomfort. You may also feel nausea, groggy and sore around the incision site.
Day 1-2: Moving around, coughing, sneezing, and laughing may be particularly uncomfortable. Many people require pain medication during this period.
Day 3-4: The pain and discomfort may begin to improve around this time. However, fatigue and limited mobility are still common, so keep practicing good self-care and following the instructions provided by the hospital.
Day 5 and beyond: By this point, you will begin to notice an improvement in your overall wellbeing and have reduced pain and increased mobility.
However, an individual recovery of delivery time can vary, so listen to your body and gradually increase your activity level as advised by your hospital.
Will I be awake for a caesarean section?
In most cases, during a c-section, you are conscious under local anaesthetic, typically in the form of an epidural or spinal block, which numbs the lower half of the body. This allows you to be aware of your baby while ensuring you don’t feel any pain.
You may experience sensations such as pressure, tugging or movement during the surgery. If this is uncomfortable you should let the healthcare team i.e. the anaesthetists, obstetricians and nurses know. They will explain the process and provide reassurance throughout the procedure.
There may be rare emergency situations where general anaesthetic is needed, which means you’ll be unconscious. This may be if a local anaesthetic isn’t feasible or poses additional risks.
Make sure you understand the different anaesthesia options and discuss with your hospital what you prefer so you feel well-informed before your planned c-section.
How long does a caesarean section take?
Other questions asked were:
What will happen during an emergency Csection?
In general, a c-section takes around 45 minutes to an hour from the time the surgical incision is made to the completion of the procedure, depending on whether there are any emergency issues.
Before they start the surgery, the healthcare team will prepare the operating room and mum for the procedure, including positioning, administering anaesthesia and making sure all necessary equipment is in place. This takes around 15-30 minutes
Then once the prep is complete the surgeon will make the incision in the abdomen and the uterus to access the baby. The baby is then carefully delivered through this incision. This take around 10 – 20 minutes.
After the baby is delivered, the team will remove the placenta, inspect the uterus and close the incision. This part takes around 10-20 minutes.
Can emergency c section cause infertility?
A C-section is not known to cause infertility, although, as it is surgery, it may carry some risks, such as infection or complications related to anaesthesia. However, infertility is not typically one of the long-term effects associated with c-sections.
However, certain medical conditions, complications during childbirth, or pre-existing fertility issues could be related to difficulties conceiving in the future, but these are not directly caused by the c-section procedure itself.
Can an emergency c section cause autism?
There is no scientific evidence to suggest that an emergency c-section directly causes autism. Autism is a complex neurodevelopmental condition that is believed to have a multifactorial aetiology, involving a combination of genetic, environmental, and possibly prenatal factors. The exact causes of autism are still not fully understood.
While certain prenatal and perinatal factors have been studied for their potential association with autism, the link between c-sections and autism is not well-established. Research in this area has yielded inconsistent results, with some studies suggesting a small association between c-section delivery and an increased risk of autism, while others have found no significant association.
If you have questions or concerns about the potential risk factors for autism or any other developmental conditions, seek guidance from healthcare professionals who can provide personalised advice based on your specific situation and medical history.
How many caesarean sections can I have?
In the UK and the US, the number of c-sections a person can have may vary depending on several factors, including medical history, the specific circumstances of each pregnancy, and healthcare providers’ recommendations. Currently there is no set limit on the number of c-sections a person can have.
In the UK, the National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) guidelines state that a woman’s preference for a VBAC should be respected and supported, and the decision should be made through shared decision-making between mum and healthcare provider. NICE guidelines also suggest that a planned c-section should be offered to women who have had more than two previous c-sections.
In the US, the American College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists (ACOG) acknowledges that VBAC can be a safe option for many women with one or even two previous c-sections. However, the decision about the mode of delivery after a previous c-section should be individualised, taking into account factors such as the type of uterine incision, previous complications, and current pregnancy considerations.
It’s important to note that the specific recommendations and practices may vary among healthcare providers and hospitals and a careful assessment of the individual’s medical history and current circumstances is made first before coming to a decision.
What is the pain relief after caesarean section?
Other questions asked were:
Do emergency c-section births hurt?
Pain relief options after a c-section in both the UK and the US generally involve a combination of medications to manage pain and promote recovery.
In the UK, after a c-section, pain relief is typically provided through a combination of analgesic medications. This may include intravenous (IV) pain medications such as opioids (e.g. morphine) given during and immediately after the surgery. In addition, oral or intravenous nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAIDs) may be prescribed to help control pain and reduce inflammation in the days following the procedure. Local anaesthesia techniques such as epidurals or spinal anaesthesia are often administered during the c-section surgery to numb the lower body and provide pain relief.
In the US, pain relief options after a c-section are similar. Opioid medications may be used to manage pain, either through IV administration during and immediately after the surgery or through oral medications in the days following the procedure. NSAIDs may also be prescribed to help with pain control and reduce inflammation. Regional anaesthesia techniques, such as spinal anaesthesia or epidurals, are aso used during c-sections to provide pain relief during and after the surgery.
The choice of pain relief methods and medication may vary based on individual circumstances, the preference of the healthcare provider, and the hospital’s protocols.
Is caesarean section safer for very premature babies?
For very premature babies, the decision regarding whether to have a caesarean section (c-section) or vaginal birth, is based on the circumstances of each individual case.
In some cases, a c-section may be considered safer for very premature babies due to the potential risks associated with vaginal delivery. For example, if there are concerns about the baby’s position, the ability to tolerate the stress of labour, or the potential for birth complications, a c-section might be recommended to ensure a safer delivery.
Additionally, if there are certain medical conditions or complications that make a vaginal birth risky for the mother or the baby, a c-section might be the preferred option. These conditions can include placenta praevia (when the placenta partially or fully covers the cervix), certain types of uterine abnormalities, or concerns about the baby’s health.