Isla Shea: A Birth Story

I am sharing our birth story with my readers.  It was a really important time in our lives, and we are so privileged to have Isla Shea with us.  Most of our labor and delivery plans were kept just between Dave and I, as we wanted to be surrounded only with support.  We realize natural birth and home birth is not for everyone, and we did not want to open ourselves up any further to unnecessary criticism from family and friends.  Please feel free to read our story.

(Edit:  Dave read my post and said he agreed with everything except my hospital experience.  He said it was positive the whole time, and I probably don't remember it as such because I was so grumpy about my C-section.  So, take me with a grain of salt, as always! :)  

Before I get started, please know that I am happy with the outcome of having a wonderful, healthy daughter.  But, the process to me was also very important, and there was some sadness and disappointment in my c-section delivery.  My opinion may differ from yours, so please be respectful.

I started off my pregnancy like most Americans:  OBGYN appointments, ultrasounds, tests, and fear-based medicine.  Immediately I knew I wanted something different.  I was adamant that I would not have the typical hospital birth that included lots of hardcore drugs (after spending 9 months putting nothing harmful in my body), high risk of C-section, fights with nurses, and hospital policies that ignored birth plans.  (In Memphis, we do not have birthing centers, so we do not have the option for a home birth set up in a hospital setting). 

I contacted The Farm in Tennessee, with famous midwife Ina May Gaskin.  Their successful delivery rates are known around the world, and I was giddy thinking I could possibly deliver in such a wonderful environment.  Dave and I drove up and had the pleasure of meeting Ina May, Pamela, and other world famous midwives.  We were accepted on The Farm for delivery, but we had a lot to think about and had to make a decision in one day.  Our due date was right in the middle of their annual gathering, and there was not a lot of space to add us into the program so there were some hiccups, and The Farm could not accept us without our immediate commitment.  Without in-network insurance coverage, we were also not sure we could afford to deliver there, especially if we were transferred to a hospital.  We knew the risk was very low, but still....   Dave was also uncomfortable being so far away from family and the care we have here in Memphis.  In the end, we knew we had to meet in the middle and find something local.

But dern if I didn't want to deliver at The Farm!

I took the time to interview the local midwives in our area.  I chose one and broke up with my OBGYN after asking him to be my back up physician and having him refuse.  Now THAT was a fun meeting, especially when he told me I was holding a gun to my baby's head and playing Russian roulette.  Needless to say, I didn't require his services anymore.  

The next 5 months consisted of a a bunch of appointments with my midwife that lasted about an hour each time.  (WAYYY more informative and relaxing than OBGYN. )  Baby Roberts was always in a great position head down, which explains why I had so much trouble running and doing any exercise because she was just lodged in there, and it HURT!  She also had a great heart rate throughout it all.  Everything was well, and Dave and I were glad we made the choice to use a midwife. 

Dave and I enjoyed my pregnancy.  It was fun!  We were constantly educating ourselves.  I read a million books on birthing at home, breastfeeding, and natural birth.  We took a private Bradley class together where we met Elizabeth, our awesome instructor who introduced us to our doula Emily.  (Little did I know Emily would be an amazing part of my labor and a good friend today).  Dave was becoming super husband and the best birthing partner possible.

I went the full 40 weeks and was getting so excited to meet Isla.  I mean, we were bonded.  We knew we loved each other so much, and I enjoyed spending every minute of every day with her for those 9 months. 

On my due date,June 30, I "thought" my water broke around 7am.  Being my first pregnancy, I wasn't sure how much was supposed to come out.  Maybe it was a leak?  I just brushed it off, but the detail later became important.

(it is also important to note that labor didn't start for almost 20 hours after my water broke.  If I had rushed to the hospital, I would have been put on pitocin to "speed things up."  One of the benefits of laboring at home is that your body can work on its own schedule). 

Around 2am on July 1, I had my first contractions.  Again, I just wasn't sure.  Are these Braxton Hicks?  I remember I ran a few errands that day like going to the post office, and then realized I needed to be at home.  Something was happening.  I didn't want to alarm anyone if it was just false labor, so I just sat at home and tried to relax.  By 5pm, I called Dave and told him I was pretty sure he needed to come home.  (In retrospect, I should have called him hours earlier!)

 So, I thought maybe I would look cute for my home birth?  Labor completely snuck up on me, and I just threw my hair back in a pony tail and wore a trusty Saints shirt.  Who DAT!  This is pretty early on when I just tried to relax through the pain.

My super-doula, Emily, came over a little later that evening.  Labor was manageable.  I was bouncing on the ball, laughing at jokes, and then just focusing when the contractions came.  It is not to say the contractions weren't painful, but I felt prepared for them and confident I could manage them.   

 Really?  A Saints snuggy?  LOL!!!  I didn't even know I wore so much Saints apparel until I saw the pictures.  Here is Caya being the sweetest little helper while I labored.  Pain was definitely intense and I had to retreat within myself.  

At some point the contractions got close enough together to call the midwives, as things were progressing pretty quickly.  I was surrounded by "the loves" of my life.  Dave was amazing.  Caya and Roo were the best supporters ever.  I couldn't have asked for a better labor situation. 

 Ahhh....the birthing pool.  It felt so good.  Too good.  

Sometime past midnight I entered the transition phase of labor.  This is the hardest part where you go from 8 to 10 centimeters.  It hurt.  I threw up.  I was so excited!  Once I threw up, I knew I was almost there.  Dave was holding my hands.  I had this.  The pain was nothing compared to my happiness!

 

 Super Rooney was watching over me the whole time.  I was so lucky to have my babies with me during my labor.  

And then labor stopped.  It just flat out stopped.  All of the work.  24+ hours of labor.  Gone.  I got out of the water in disbelief.  Isla's heart rate was fine.  I was fine.  But the contractions lessened.

In retrospect, I have heard that water, while it is a pain reliever, also slows/stops labor for some women.  I was that woman.

It was now July 2.  I tried everything I could to start laboring consistently again.  I walked.  I squatted. I hung from the willow tree in the back yard.  I massaged my pituitary gland.  Everything!  I would get labor going again.  Finally I would labor actively for a few hours.  I would dilate to 8cm and start transition.  Then labor would stop.  Again.  It happened again.  Everything just ceased when I was so close to being ready.  I didn't understand.  I was pushing my body to the limit over and over again. 

I was willing to take any amount of pain to deliver her.  We finally tried castor oil.  For the 3rd time, I made it to transition.  I labored and labored.  At this point I was in extreme pain.  Dave and my doula tried to help me with hip squeezes.  Something had changed, and the pain was extreme, but I was not dilating any further and I just would not progress.  

  By day 2, everyone was exhausted.  Dave was trying to rest while I just held his hand and continued to labor.  

I did not want to go to the hospital.  I knew I could do this.  I had labored for almost 2 days with over 24 hours of very active labor.  I wasn't going to give up.  I did everything.  I cried.  I had diarrhea all over my clothes (thank you castor oil...and yes, I did change).  I got mad.  I fought.  I prayed.  I danced.  I talked to Isla.  I looked to Dave for reassurance.  Emily was there with me every step of the way with her amazing encouragement.

The labor pain had changed and was now at unbearable levels, even though I wasn't progressing.  I wasn't able to sit or squat without searing pain in my sacrum.  I didn't realize it at the time, but I was having back labor...classic sign of posterior presentation of baby. 

The final decision to go to the hospital.  It was a sad moment for us.  What is sadder is my skirt that is up to my belly button.  Please tell me I didn't go to the hospital like that!  Yikes!!!! :)

It was finally suggested that we go to the hospital to see if there was anything we could do to get the labor to move from 8/9 to 10.  While everything was still okay, the midwives were concerned at how long we had been going at this.  I basically had pushed my body to labor 3 different times.  I had been in labor for 2 days, with 30+ hours being active. 

I didn't want to go to the hospital.  But as I looked at everyone, I knew they were depending on me to make a good decision.  I gave in.  It was the biggest feeling of defeat in my life.  I knew once I went to the hospital it was out of my hands, and the risk of surgery, even if unnecessary, were very high. 

How different it was at the hospital.  My spirit was defeated.  I encountered rude nurses.  No one respected my wishes.  We went in to see if an epidural would relax things to allow for progression, and instead they immediately hooked me up to pitocin and jacked the levels up.  The epidural didn't work, and I was hurting so badly with no way to move and work through the contractions.

The silver lining in this all is that my backup doctor was Dr. Mullinex.  He used to be the backup doctor for The Farm.  So, he was very respectful of my wishes for a vaginal birth.  When he got to the hospital, he was very, very unhappy at how much pitocin the nurses had given me and made them turn it way down.  But by then, it was too late.  Isla started having her heart rate drop, and I had been pushed to exhaustion.  In addition, with all of the pit, I was only able to dilate to 9 cm.  With all of the medicine pumped into my body, I was still not dilating further.

My doctor rocked, though.  He told me he would let me labor as long as Isla was safe.  He would give me a chance, and he didn't force me into the operating room.  It wasn't long before we realized, though, that I was still a 9 and was not progressing at all despite the extra time.  It was time to gear up for surgery.  I had labored at the hospital for another 6 hours. 

My heart was so heavy when I saw Dave in scrubs.  I knew I had to be strong for my friends around me, but I was so sad that I would not hold Isla in my arms after birth. 

I wasn't worried about the surgery as it applied to me, but I did want to hold my daughter and breastfeed.  I begged the nurses to bring her to me after delivery, and they made a bunch of excuses and said they would "try." 

And then she was here.  She was crying.  My eyes were watering with joy.  My BABY!!!!  She was sunny-side up in presentation which is why in the final hours the pain was unreal and so different from the other labor pain.  I also had no amniotic fluid at all- completely dry.  The doctor felt she really had no lubrication to turn and position her head to come all of the way down.  Isla had tried over and over to get in position which is why we were so close so many times, but she was finally out of maneuvers. 

The nurses swept her away and put her down.  No one held her, she was isolated, and she was crying.  I could see the whole thing.  I begged them to pick her up, give her to Dave, or bring her to me.  They finally gave in after listening to her wail and brought her to me, even though they were still stitching me up.  But seriously, that was MY BABY.  We were meant to be together and had waited 9 months for this moment. 

My sweet baby Isla Shea.  

The nurses put her back down on her back and let her cry again.  They voiced concern over her "difficulty breathing because she was crying."  Being the physical therapist that I am, I told them to hold her upright to help her.  Why put her on her back if you are concerned she is using accessory muscles instead of her lungs?  Pulmonary care 101- don't lie flat.   They hated me and I didn't care. 

I had no say in anything, and they decided to take her to the NICU for her "crying that could be lung problems."  I told them NO sugar water or formula bottle.  They could wheel her to me or me to her for breastfeeding.  The completely ignored all of my wishes.  

Finally I got to really hold her!  She was precious!  

I didn't get my baby back until 7 hours later.  You want to know why?  Because they had to wait for the doctor to stroll into work later that day to clear her.  Of course she was fine.  It is just a shame that they separate mothers from their babies like that for convenience. 

I had a healthy and amazing 6 lb 11 oz and 21 inch baby.  I couldn't ask for anything more.  

But, once I had her in my arms, everything was great and the world was at peace again for me.  The hospital staff was kind in my healing, and my friends and family were wonderful in supporting us and welcoming Isla.  (pronounced "eye-luh" for those of you wondering :)

Laboring at home was amazing.  Would I do it again?  You bet.  I would make the same decision twice, but hopefully next time a good delivery will follow.  The difference between being at home and the hospital was night and day.  Some people feel it does not matter if you delivery vaginally, c-section, or whatever, and that is fine.  I respect that.  But it matters to me. 

My plan for a home birth was my gift to my family for an low intervention and peaceful entry into this world.  It was my healthy gift to both her and myself.  It was my wish to hold my baby immediately and immediately bond with her.  Isla and I had planned our meeting for 9 months, and we were so excited to be together and love on each other.  It was my attempt to get breastfeeding off to the best start and to give her the natural and perfect food she needed. 

We did the very best we could.  I worked hard for Isla and she worked hard for me.  Although we didn't pull off the final act, I have to believe that letting her labor naturally for all of that time was a gift to her of strength.  We are so happy she is here. 

Auntie Bookie was the first family member to hold Isla, I think.  :)

Isla with Nami

Isla with Papaw

Dave's dream of becoming a dad finally came true.

Thank you Michele for coming to see us!  You have been a wonderful friend!

Aunt Steph and Uncle James made the trip from Birmingham.  She is expecting her own little one in just a few weeks!

Isla with Mema and Poppa Joe

Gina came up to hold little Isla.  Now we get to talk running and kids!

Being Isla's mom is awesome.  Who would have ever thought that I would put my baby in cloth diapers, attend baby wearing groups, be part of La Leche League, and join alternamamas?  Not me!  But here we are and we are loving it.  Thank you to all of my friends that supported me through pregnancy and my home birth experience, and thank you to all of the friends and family that continue to support us as a family.

Our sweet muffin playing and giggling before bed. 

PS:  I learned that I can handle way more pain than I ever realized.  I am now taking racing to a whole new level!  And yes, labor is a billion times harder than ironman.