Arden's Birth Story, Part 2: The Transfer

After our beautiful birth I got out of the tub and was helped over to the bed to be examined, birth the placenta, and nurse the baby. I was still pretty dazed so it’s all kind of a blur but I remember Jeanne pushing on my belly to see if my uterus was contracting, and the resulting gush of blood each time. I was feeling really weak and tired, losing so much blood. While I nursed Arden, Karen fed me a bowl of yogurt and granola (which for some reason sounded and tasted amazing at the time) and a glass of iced shepherd’s purse tea (which tasted awful, but is supposed to help the uterus to contract and stop the bleeding).

“No offense, Sarah,” I said, “but your tea tastes awful!” “I know,” she replied with a smile, “it kind of tastes like a stable, doesn’t it?” The nourishment helped me to feel a little better, but I was still bleeding and feeling weak. I don’t remember the order of the following, but over the next short period of time Jeanne gave me two shots of Pitocin in my thigh and I was asked to blow into my straw to make bubbles in my tea to help me push the placenta out (so much better than somebody tugging on the cord, as was done to me after Claire’s birth! No resulting pain or surgery this time!)

It wasn’t long before the idea of transferring to the hospital was brought up to me. I could see the concern in everybody’s eyes, and I was feeling so tired that even lying there doing nothing was a chore, so it was no surprise to me. By this time my friend Susan had arrived and was playing with Claire; there was a lot of activity going on around me, but I wasn’t very aware. I remember Sarah putting an oxygen mask on me, but it was so loud that I couldn’t hear what everybody around me was saying. Soon Jeanne leaned over and gently said that she thought an ambulance would be a good idea – there was no way I’d make it down the stairs in my condition. I agreed, and the flurry of activity continued as everybody helped me get dressed, alerted Mark and Susan (who were caring for the kids downstairs), and packed up equipment.

Within minutes two men in uniform appeared at the foot of my bed and introduced themselves as Val and John. I wasn’t sure what to expect – I’ve heard of home birth transfers where EMTs and hospital staff are hostile to the mother and her birth team (as if to say, “the hospital isn’t good enough for you to birth in until there’s an emergency, eh?”) But these two men were very respectful and kind. They brought with them a special wheel chair with gears designed for taking patients down stairs, and carefully loaded and strapped me in while explaining what they were doing. “We’re going to do all the work – once we get going down the stairs, you might feel like you want to reach out and grab onto the railing, but don’t. Keep your arms crossed over your chest and don’t worry,” Val continued with a smile, “we haven’t dropped anybody yet today.” I laughed and told him I’d keep my hands in the bus.

Once at the bottom of the stairs we were met by a few police officers who introduced themselves and helped lift me onto a stretcher before wheeling me down our long driveway to the waiting ambulance. It was really nice that they had arrived quietly and without sirens, but why couldn’t they have backed up to the front door? I felt so self conscious like all of the neighbors were probably watching. Just as they loaded me into the ambulance, our new neighbor from a few doors down (of about a week, who we haven’t met yet) pulled out of her driveway and drove past us. What a lovely first impression! Once inside, I looked around and noticed how secure everything was, but I still couldn’t help picturing a scene in the comedy Just Friends where the main character is being transported in an ambulance; equipment is falling off of shelves and onto him with every bump and turn but nobody notices, and his mouth is injured so he can’t talk around the mouthful of gauze. It helped to think of this scene, and to know that we were being followed by Mark, Arden, Jeanne and Sarah. As we rode they took my blood pressure and pulse and inserted an IV, while talking and joking around with me. After calling the hospital with my vitals, Val asked me what our baby’s name was. When I told him we hadn’t decided, he joked that we should name her Valerie, after him (his full name is Valentino.) It was a really pleasant ride, all things considered, and I was so thankful to have gotten such great people for the transfer.

I was also fortunate that a great ER doctor, midwife, and team of nurses were working that morning, and soon I was settled in a labor and delivery bed about to be sewn up. It took about an hour and was very painful, even with 6 shots of lidocaine. But it helped having my support team there with me: Mark nearby holding Arden, Jeanne sitting near the hospital midwife watching her careful stitching, and Sarah sitting next to me the entire time, holding my hand and rubbing my arm. About halfway through, the hospital midwife looked over at Jeanne and said “You made the right call.” I wholeheartedly agree; this was not a minor injury. Susan stayed home with Claire (what a treat! Claire later told me all about the fun she had with her good friend’s mom), and Karen stayed home to empty the tub, throw in laundry, and finish cleaning up.

The hospital was busy so we waited around until 5:00pm to be released. What a long day! It felt so good to get home and back into my own pajamas and bed. It took all of my energy to do this, but it was worth it. The next day Sarah came over to check on us, and on the third day Jeanne came by. The third day is when a blood test will show the true iron count after a hemorrhage, so Jeanne tested mine. It was an 8, on a scale where 12-15 is normal. So it’s no wonder that a week later I can barely make it out of bed, I’m still so weak. I also injured my tailbone during the birth, so sitting was excruciating at first, and now can be done but only for short periods. I wanted to do the whole “laying in” thing, but I had pictured it a little differently!

Even with the transfer and all of these struggles, I am still so satisfied and fulfilled by this birth experience. I had my drug- and intervention- free birth at home, exactly how I wanted it, and we have a beautiful and healthy baby who I cannot stop staring at. I was treated incredibly well the entire time, and continue to be cared for here at home – we have another postpartum visit with our midwives today, and I don’t even have to leave my bed (I felt even worse after Claire’s hospital birth, but still had to make almost daily trips to the hospital and clinic for the two of us). We came home to a clean house, clean laundry, food in the fridge, and a happy toddler.

I had an almost identical birth with Claire – drug-free labor and water birth (one intervention, the midwife broke my water), compound presentation and 3rd degree tear, and hemorrhage. But the recovery after that birth was on the other end of the spectrum. The hospital midwife was cold and harsh; nobody held my hand; I was separated from Claire while they examined me; nurses fought in front of me about who was better at putting IVs in and whether the OB should be called or not; despite my protests, the hospital midwife yanked on the umbilical cord to get the placenta out before the hospital’s asinine 30 minute time limit, which resulted in pieces of it remaining stuck inside of me…and this resulted in 2 weeks of dangerous hemorrhaging which made surgery necessary; I barely slept and had great difficulty nursing Claire for 2 days because the hospital bed was so uncomfortable and I was tangled up with tubes, and nurses came in every few hours to take blood, monitor blood pressure and temperature; I had some very nice and competent nurses, but I also had a few terrible ones and it was frustrating dealing with the revolving door of strangers when I didn’t feel well; because my health dipped so low my milk took longer to come in, so Claire lost too much weight and we had the added stress of a baby headed toward “failure to thrive”. The stark contrast between these two births is incredible, and the hospital version was no safer than the home version. In fact, I’m faring much better having birthed at home this time.

So as I lay here in bed regularly shifting and re-adjusting the pillows holding me up, and sometimes typing one-handed, I am so thankful. Thankful for the wonderful people who have surrounded me and made this the beautiful experience that it was/is, thankful for my healthy family of 4, thankful for the friends who have visited and brought food. I may still have a few weeks of feeling tired and healing my tailbone on the horizon, but physical wounds heal relatively quickly. It’s been 2 and a half years since Claire’s birth and I am still dealing with the emotions resulting from the poor treatment I received. In a way, this experience is helping to heal the pain from the first. What a powerful gift to give a woman.