Megan and Ryan. Dramatic Caesarean Birth

Fri 23/06/2017 I went out for breakfast with my OBC friends same as every week. I had looked in the mirror in the morning and thought to myself-'I think my bump has finally dropped! ' which was confirmed by Vicky who declared exactly that as soon as I arrived at the Wholefoods Kitchen. Funnily, I'd always said that 'the day I drop is the day I go into labour.'

I had my normal bircher muesli, but I just felt off in the tummy, and my appetite wasn't really there-very unusual for me!

While at breaky I was having some pretty major Braxton-Hicks contractions, but this was nothing unusual as I'd been having them since 34 weeks-to the point where on more than one occasion they had my doubled over 'breathing through' them (great time to practice my surge breathing-I was working on a count of 4 in and 4 out).

Image Courtesy Alex Hockett Unsplash

I had some things I'd wanted to get done in town that morning, but as I was just feeling NQR I decided to go home. When I got home, I started going to the toilet to use my bowels. Never in my life have I been to the loo so much! I thought 'well, that explains being off my breaky!'

I had Debra Wakefield coming at 10am to do a meditation so I set myself the task of vacuuming and mopping before she arrived which I achieved. With my due date approaching I had become obsessed with the house being spotless at all times-when I went into labour and had bub, I wanted to know that I had a clean house to come home too!

When Deb arrived, we spoke through my Hypnobirthing practices. They had included at least 1 daily meditation, typically at night. My favorite tracks were 'Surge of the sea' or 'Rainbow Mist', although I was enjoying long baths playing the 'Tranquil Chambers' recording

I was practising my 'J breath' or as I called it 'poo breathing' whilst on the loo, and my surge breaths during Braxton-Hicks contractions. We discussed what had been happening with my pregnancy, my blood pressure, being transferred to Bendigo and then back to Castlemaine. My main reason for asking Deb to come around was to do a fear release mediation. I wanted to confront and release my fear of losing control of my birth, surrendering to what will be and addressing my fear of transfer to Bendigo and the possibility of my birth becoming medicalised and the big one looming-my blood pressure going up.

The meditation was beautiful, Debs soothing voice took me deep inside as I acknowledged and addressed my fears, allowing them to be released and giving me a sense of surrender. I felt everything would be okay. The Braxton-Hicks I had been experiencing began to become more intense, and I was breathing in and out to a count of 6. Deb had suggested prior to the meditation that my count of 4 in and 4 out during surges may not be long enough. Surges typically last for a minute longer breaths would mean less breathing cycles per surge.

As Deb left, she wished me the best of luck for my upcoming labour and left me with the advice that often to manage high blood pressure in labor an epidural is performed. We both hoped it wouldn't come to that.

After Deb left, I noted that there was beginning to be some consistency to my contractions. I wasn't yet timing them. Around 11:30 to 12 noon I felt a distinct trickle and thought I might have wet myself. I went to the loo and saw I was passing a decent amount of dark brown-red mucous. I realised this may well be my mucous plug. Ryan had been off work all week sick but was feeling well enough to go to the block for a couple of hours. I told him I had no issue with him going bit that I felt like 'something was happening, but nothing would happen for hours' if this was it and asked he keep his phone close by. In the early afternoon, still passing quite a lot of mucous I began to time my contractions. They were coming consistently 3-5mins apart and lasting 30secs-50 secs/1min. At approx. 2.30pm I ran a bath but before getting in I called the hospital. I told them what was happening and they confirmed what I already knew. I was likely in early labour. They told me to avoid having a bath as used too early it can slow labor down, to rest as much as possible. I called Ryan to let him know, and to tell him there hadn't been much change in my contractions, then I jumped in and had a shower with the lot. I washed my hair, did a treatment on the ends, shaved my legs and armpits and exfoliated my skin. When I got out of the shower I moisturized and oiled every inch of my body, blow-dried my hair and gave myself a pedicure-quite an effort at full term! Feeling fresh and put together I dressed in comfy t-shirt and knickers and set myself up on my birth ball watching Shrek on Netflix.

I was beginning to get frustrated. Nothing had changed. My contractions were still the same frequency and duration as they had been all day. If anything, they had slowed down a bit. By 5.30pm I was getting really antsy. I really wanted Ryan home. At 5.50pm he got home. I was still hanging out on my birth ball waiting for something different to happen. Exasperated I flopped on the couch as we started watching Shrek 2. At 6.35pm suddenly I felt and heard a tiny click-it had happened-my waters broke! 'MY WATERS HAVE BROKEN! ' I yelled out. Ryan jumped up and looked at me excitedly 'It's happening!' I didn't know what to do, I was sitting on the couch gushing fluid everywhere, the pugs running around my feet, with Ryan scrambling to get towels etc. out of the cupboard. He put the pugs outside and made me a path of towels to the tiles. I called the hospital and told them what had happened, Cate said 'Oh Excellent, best we get you to come right in'. I asked if I could have a shower, Cate said I should have time to do so, but to be aware that my contractions may become stronger now as babies head is pushing right on the cervix. As we spoke, they started to ramp up, becoming much stronger. Ryan thought it was hilarious to take photos of me leaking fluid on the floor as I contracted. I jumped in the shower as Ryan rushed around packing final items in my case. When I got out of the shower I got dressed and Ryan helped me get into some knickers packed with nappies-the one mum wrote on at my baby shower! I kept trying to help Ryan pack for hospital but he was cracking it at me because I was leaking as I walked. We got into the car and were off. I couldn't stand the pressure of even loose trackies on my lower tummy. In the car I had nothing on but my knickers and a singlet and hoodie. I listened to my meditation tapes and began to breathe through my surges. 8 in 8 out. By the time we got to the hospital I was contracting so hard i couldn't walk. I was so embarrassed when the clerk came out with a wheelchair-secretly I was thankful he brought a heap of towels. But then I thought it's 8pm at Castlemaine-there won't be anyone around (there wasn't). Into room 2 we went and as soon as i could pants and undies were off. I managed to give a urine sample and I was onto the birth ball. Ryan setup my oil diffuser and put the 'Tranquil Chambers' track on repeat. It was to become the soundtrack to my birth. The room was dark except for a little light coming from under the bathroom door. I was well and truly in my cave, my private space with my primal self coming out. And I loved that birth ball. I physically couldn't move off it. With legs spread wide and leaning forward I breathed through every surge as the intensity ripped through the front of my abdomen just above my pubic bone, and I felt the pressure of my babies head moving down into my bottom. I envisaged my cervix opening up to make room for my baby to descend. I was encouraged to try kneeling on the bed leaning over a beanbag. I made it was far as onto my side on the bed but this position seemed to make the contractions 100x more painful, so back onto the birth ball I clambered. The intensity continued to increase and I could focus on nothing other than breathing in to a count of 8 and breathing out to a count of 8 often reaching for Cate’s hand or falling back into Ryan as the contraction peaked and then subsided. Ronnie was also in the room, laying on the floor behind me.

I felt drunk or high, head bobbing and eyes rolling back as I let my bodies endorphins flow. Flickering thoughts began to enter 'I can't do this-no, no, no-not another-it's too much' but I didn't entertain them. I wanted to succeed in meeting my baby without intervention or drugs so badly that I could not let that doubt prevail. I knew I could do it. I just had to surrender and trust in the innate wisdom of my body that connected me to millions of women through the ages. When I didn't breathe, when I resisted, when I fought my body, when I tensed up-those handfuls of contractions were tortuous. They were hell. They made me a victim of my body, they made me want to be saved. My team brought me back into control, brought me back into my centre and my breathe. They held my hands, put pressure on my shoulders and looked into my eyes and helped me ride the wave of each surge-in for 8, out for 8-repeat repeat repeat. My BP had been taken repeatedly. In the very depths of my mind i knew this meant it was going up, but i hoped that I could birth my baby before it got dangerously high. But when Ronnie told me we needed to do an internal because of the numbers on the machine I knew this was unlikely. The internal revealed I was doing really well, 4cm and fully effaced, but not well enough to continue to labor in Castlemaine with BP reading 160/100. It was around 10.30pm. Ronnie made some phone calls and told me I'd need to be moved, but at this stage they were not sure where as Bendigo was full. It would most likely be Melbourne or Ballarat, but she was waiting on a return phone call. I was hoping for Ballarat, I was terrified of going to the city. Not only was it further, but I longed to be in the company of country people who would treat me less as a number and more as a person. The phone call came-Ballarat could take me. The Ambulance drivers arrived after 11pm. My beautiful birthing bubble was broken with a clacking of trolleys, bright lights and loud voices. I was really concerned about how I would cope in the Ambulance strapped to a trolley on my back, as I had been unable to move from my birth ball whilst labouring, so I asked Ronnie what my best options were for pain relief. Despite my birth plan specifically saying 'no pethidine under any circumstances' we determined that this would be the most quickly effective and the most quickly excreted. Ronnie also administered medication to lower my BP and put a bung in my hand-just in case. The Ambulance drivers asked Ronnie 'how far along are we?' She told them '4cm and fully effaced' then asked 'are you going to make it?!' to which they replied 'we hope so! '. 'I hope so too' I piped up. Before the trolley was loaded into the van, I had a big hug with Ryan, and asked him to call my Mum to let her know I was being transferred. Her Mum's 6th sense meant she had called me on or way to the hospital (which I Ignored). She had then sent me a message saying 'she'd tried to call-was I in labor?' I knew she would get worried if she hasn't heard from me. Then I had a hug with Ronnie. She apologised that things hadn't gone to plan, I thanked her for letting me try. The midwife who came with me was Heather. As the Ambulance left Castlemaine the lovely driver told me we weren't going lights and sirens, but we were going fast. Ryan had given me my phone and headphones with my Hypnobirthing affirmations playing, I put the headphones in my ears and closed my eyes. I was holding Heather’s hand and as each surge rose through my body, I squeezed her hand. I remember they were taking my blood pressure as we went along, however apart from this I don't really remember a lot about my Ambulance trip. I was off, journeying, immersed in the loving, empowering words playing in my ears and focusing on my breathing. When we arrived in Ballarat it was as though I was rudely awakened from a dream, the lights were bright and it was freezing cold outside. I was wheeled up to the ward and had to get off the trolley. I didn't want to move, I didn't want to come back, I didn't want to think. I remember feeling very afraid. The room I was taken to was old, all the lights were on, it was so bright and I felt so alone as Ryan had not yet arrived. I had to get off the trolley and the midwives were asking me for a urine sample. I was in the throes of an especially powerful surge whilst they were trying to encourage me to provide a urine sample. I remember being pissed off when a midwife told me 'they aren't going to stop so I might as well get it done'. I was struggling to walk and I was so extremely dehydrated by this point I could provide only the tiniest few drops in the specimen jar. I was told that my ketones were off the chart (I didn't register that this meant pre-eclampsia at this point) and my blood pressure was taken. I heard them say it was 190/115. I knew this really wasn't good. I could hear the midwives debating if I was at full dilation. Midwife Whitney was sure I was, Midwife Cathy said I couldn't be, I wasn't acting the right way. I weighed in that I didn't think I was-but I had a real feeling of excitement that maybe I could be so close, and some elation that if I was, I'd done it so calmly. But I thought I felt too calm, too in control-not typically hallmarks of transition. Whitney checked my dilation and I astounded to find out I was at 8cm. I honestly could not believe it as such a short time ago I was 4cm. I was also amazed that I was so close to delivering my baby, I thought to myself 'I can really do this'. My conviction in myself was bolstered, I was determined. Obstetrician Raj came in to talk to me, we needed to bring my dangerously high BP down. I also had 4 beats+ clonus and extreme hyper reflexia (indication for necessity of magnesium sulphate due too high seizure risk). My options-a slow acting but effective medication. Although this was offered, he told me this wasn't really an option as by the time it worked, I would likely be fully eclamptic and would have to be put under for a C-section. My second option was an epidural, which would take an hour or more to organise. I did not want an epidural and although an end to the relentless surges was tempting, I knew that the possible cascade of interventions was not a road I wanted to go down. I was asked what my birth preferences were-I told them low to no intervention, natural physiological birth-basically the opposite of what seemed to be happening. The midwives felt for me, they understood all I had done to increase the likelihood of achieving my birth goals. However, my ailing health meant that at least some level of medical intervention was going to be necessary, and I would need to use my BRAIN to navigate through what would be proposed. Ryan had arrived by this time and together we talked with Raj, 'can I just have until 3am/2am to deliver bub before we intervene? ' 'what happens if we do nothing? ' 'what if we wait 2 more hours?' After exploring everything and exhausting our options to buy more time we decided that an epidural was the best option and safest for myself and baby. It was the only option really. The midwives were optimistic that we may even have a baby by the time the anaesthetist arrived-I hoped so as I'd progressed so much so quickly, but it was not to be. I was set up on the edge of the bed to have the epidural put in place, I won't lie I was terrified. I had horror stories racing around my head and that was incentive enough to remain perfectly still. The beautiful young anaesthetist did a lot to put my mind at ease also. I was so incredibly calm, using my surge breaths to ride each wave. I had to verbally tell the team when I was having a surge as from the outside no one could tell. The anaesthetist thought she was in the clear to begin performing the epidural-she was completely taken aback and had to ask me twice when I told her I was having a surge! All the midwives commented on what an amazing job I was doing. All in all, the epidural procedure was less uncomfortable and stressful than I thought it would be and to the credit of the doctor apparently, I had the best epidural the midwives had ever seen in their careers. I had full use of my legs; I could still feel the pressure of each surge but the intensity diminished significantly. But I was sad. I felt like I wasn't even in labor anymore. I felt like I'd lost my birthing rhythm. That it was happening to me, but I wasn't a part of it. There was a disconnect. I was also acutely aware of how incredibly dehydrated I had become. I have never in my life been so incredibly thirsty, I was sipping water constantly but no amount could quench my thirst (a clear sign of the severity of my pre-eclampsia, in hindsight). By this time, it was about 2.30am and I was nearly fully dilated (9cm). Young OB Yvonne discussed with Ryan and I that I would be at full dilation by about 4.30am allowing for things to slow down significantly due to the epidural. She said they wouldn't get me pushing until at least 5, because of the epidural I would be best to let my body passively deliver my baby as much as possible to avoid fatigue and distress for us both. The epidural had the desired effect, as soon as the first dose of drug was administered my BP lowered to safely high levels (140/90). I felt relief that at least having gone through the procedure it had worked, and knew that I was giving myself the best chance possible to still achieve a vaginal delivery. We settled in to rest. Having been incredibly sick all week Ryan lapsed into a coma almost instantly. I sat chatting with my beautiful midwives and munched on ANZAC biscuits-labour is hungry work as well as thirsty! Each time a midwife or OB came into the room I told them of exactly how I planned on naturally delivering my baby myself. How since nothing else has gone to plan thus far I am more determined than ever to birth my baby naturally-no forceps, no vacuum, just me working with the powerful surges of my body. I feel like I am cheerleading myself and my team. Rallying my troops and making my desire to deliver naturally known in no uncertain terms. It is also my way of refocusing and reframing, to view my current circumstances in a positive light. I tried to use the loud labouring noises of a woman in a nearby room to lull me into a deeply relaxed state to try and reconnect with my body and my baby. I lay with my hands on my belly focusing on my breath, and I talk to my baby. 'It is just you and me little one, we are a team, we are going to do this together'. 5.30am and it is nearly time. My body has fully opened to allow my baby to descend Earthside. I note how without an epidural I would have had my baby in my arms hours ago. This is not the time to process these thoughts though, because I have to rouse Ryan. This proves to be a nearly impossible task as he is so deeply asleep-and my god does he wake up cranky! He wakes up disoriented and it takes him a few moments to realise where he is and exactly what is happening. My gentle awakening of 'Ryan, are you ready to have a baby?' Becomes more along the lines of 'Wake up, I'm going to start pushing soon' as I shove his shoulder haha. Whitney happily prepares Ryan to receive his baby. 

I was adamant ever since agreeing to the epidural that I do not want to be on my back to push. Luckily having had such a skillful anesthetist and successful epidural my wonderful midwives are more than happy to accommodate. It is almost comical the effort it takes myself, Ryan and 2 midwives to help me successfully get off my back onto my knees (taking my catheter, bp cuffs, baby monitor and associated straps, cannulas in both hands and epidural tubing with me). It is a truly bizarre feeling to be on my hands and knees, about to breathe my baby into the world without any pain or sensation except for tightening’s across my abdomen. I reframe that I am lucky to even be feeling that-I had anticipated being paralysed from the waist down, not knowing when my body is surging and not able to move into an optimal birthing position. Midwife Whitney would have liked to put a skill clip on baby prior to me commencing pushing, but after discussion Ryan and I decided we would stick with the external monitor at this time.

Once I am positioned I begin to push, I feel the tightening and the pressure building and bear down into my bottom. I take a short intake of breath and exhale long, envisioning breathing my baby down into the birth canal and out into the world. I breath bub down over and over again but concerns are raised that the external monitor has not had a consistent trace on baby's heartrate for over 20 minutes. We decide it is safest if I move to my back in order to effectively keep an eye on baby. However this position change does little to improve the trace as my little one is so deeply engaged in my pelvis. A skull clip is again suggested and after midwife Whitney demonstrates the equipment and runs us through application and the necessity to keep an eye on baby we agree. My team seem much happier now we can keep a better eye on baby. It astounds me how very close my little one is-literally within reach! Each time I feel my body tighten I try to concentrate on my surge breaths. I am encouraged to hold my breath and put my chin on my chest as I push down, but Ryan reminds me we aren't pushing bub out, we are breathing him down-and J breaths are the best way to do this. After I try to breathe bub down for almost an hour we see that with each surge our little ones heart rate is dropping from between 120/140 to around 80, although it is quickly recovering. We decided to try alternate positioning to birth baby-laying on my left, and then on my right. Over and over we see depressions on the trace, which quickly recover. Over and over I bear down, my amazing team of midwives cheerleading me all the way, and assuring me I am doing everything perfectly to bring my baby Earthside.

Although I am running on adrenaline my body is fatiguing, my surges have dropped to only 2 in 10 minutes. To help keep my bodies rhythm we hook up a syntocinon drip, but babe is not a fan, his heart rate dropped more significantly with every surge and was very slow to recover, so we request the drip is taken down. We plead with baby to keep their heart rate up, but the noises from the monitor tell us the decelerations have not ceased.

It has now been an hour and a half that I have been doing all I can, and even though I've never given birth before I feel something doesn't feel right. I tell the midwife that bub isn't moving down, but they already know each time I have a surge the skull clip can be seen to move down, but once it's over straight back up it goes.

OB Yvonne comes in and performs an internal to see if she can find out why bub isn't descending. It turns out my baby was a stargazer, coming out deflexed with the biggest diameter of his head leading the way. Yvonne tells me that I have done an incredible job of pushing out the largest part of babies head. However, the decelerations in his heart rate and the changes on his trace indicate that he is beginning to deoxygenate. But for now, he is okay. She tells me that according to protocol they are allowed to give me another 40mins to try and birth baby myself, but that she honestly believes that I will struggle to do so unassisted. By that time baby may be compromised due to distress and deoxygenation. Not trying to fear monger, just honest professional opinion and facts. Talking to us, involving us, as we'd requested. She proposes that we go to theatre and there she will assess whether baby has come low enough to be born with forcep or vacuum assistance. If bub is still too high or in a sub-optimal position she will need to proceed to a C-section. I am devastated. Gutted. Defeated. Exhausted. I did everything in my power to have a normal, vaginal, physiological birth with low or no intervention and I not only ended up on my back with an epidural in a foreign hospital with extremely severe pre-eclampsia (what I thought was my worst nightmare), I'm now staring down the barrel of a forceps birth or C-section (my nightmare just got worse). I get upset, I get angry, I have a moment. A big one. I rant and crack the shits. Then together with Ryan’s help I refocus to how we can make the most of this.

Image Courtesy Amit Gaur Unsplash

Image Courtesy Patricia Prudent Unsplash

-We request vacuum instead of forceps.

-Can we please get some gauze for vaginal seeding.

-Drop drapes at earliest moment.

-Mum and Dad to reveal gender.

-Minimal toweling off, no swaddling, fastest check in history by paed. and straight to Mum’s chest for skin on skin.

-Pending bubs condition can we delay cord clamping.

-I'm bringing my own music.

-Ryan will be photographing with our good camera and we will give his mobile to whoever is available to take additional pictures.

-Placenta to be kept and returned to us.

Thank god for Ryan. He stepped up and remembered things I'd forgotten. He questioned and was the voice of safety, logic and reason. He reground me and brought me back to focusing on our baby. He used his BRAIN and together we knew what needed to happen.

We were in the midst of this discussion when suddenly midwife Danielle came rushing into the room. She roughly pushed Yvonne out the way to get to me. 'Megan, you've got to get onto your side' she told me hurriedly. I remember a flurry of activity as midwives assisted me to roll, telling me that my babies heart rate was low. Ryan snuck a look at the monitor and tells me later bub had dropped to 40 beats and wasn't recovering, at the time I had no idea. I remember Yvonne turning to the team and saying 'We're going to theatre RIGHT NOW'. And then the people appeared. The room was filled in seconds, everyone moving fast. In hindsight even when we discussing options with Yvonne there were unfamiliar extras present-she must have already had them standing by. A second bed was brought in and I was swapped over-my main concern 'don't squash my catheter tube between the two or pull it out!' Funny the things our brain worries about in a crisis. Down the hallway and into the elevator-the gorgeous orderly holding my hand and talking to me about his Grandbabies. The ride seems to last forever.

Ryan is taken aside to get gowned up; I'm terrified they will start without him. I cry with relief when he walks into the theatre and sits beside me. Now I'm angry again, frustrated and upset. I try to focus on staying calm for baby, but the theatre environment really triggers me. This is where my baby will ultimately be born. Not in the cave-like darkness and warmth of Castlemaine, surrounded by my wise tribe of chosen women and into his father's loving hands, freely breathed into the world by an empowered mother. But likely cut out into a stranger’s hands, or roughly dragged out in a room full of people, bright lights, sterile, clinical (but thankfully not cold like I'd expected). I was already mourning the loss of the birth I'd so desired and done everything possible to achieve. I was also struggling to cope with my vulnerability with people all around me, now dead legs strapped in stirrups, about to have yet another set of hands examine. Again, this is where Ryan is incredible. He is able to get me to focus on my hypnobirthing track which has been on repeat the entire duration of my labor. I close my eyes, find my breath and mentally reclaim my birth space. When I lose all feeling and movement in my left arm and breathing becomes more difficult it is almost comedic to me.

I end up with a floppy dead arm as the result of the spinal blocking to me C7, and I keep hitting myself in the face.

Yvonne and the head OB both carefully examine bubs position. They know of my desperation for a vaginal birth but despite baby being partially descended through the cervix he is not down far enough to use any type of instrumentation to assist him out. Baby is suffering a deep transverse arrest-he is completely jammed and a C-section is our only option. Deep down I knew this is where we would end up when we went to theatre. I think part of me almost preferred it to a forceful forceps delivery.

Mind you, due to bubs position it is a 'complex' C-section, baby has to be both pulled out from the top and pushed up from below.

I am told they have begun. My heart rate soars. I'm emotional, exhausted but most of all excited. I just want baby on my chest. I am jostled around the table, I don't recall feeling any pressure as they maneuver in my belly to get baby out. They tell me 'we are nearly there' and then down come the drapes and in front of me the OB is lifting baby up

I strain to raise my head to watch, but the spinal blocking my neck means I can't do so. Baby is brought before us to reveal the gender-'your hand is in the way though!' I have to tell the OB, but then we both see 'A boy, a beautiful baby boy' Ryan exclaims through tears. Then he is taken away to be checked by the paed. Not going to lie, I'm not impressed about this even though it is necessary. The second he cries I start yelling at them to get my baby to me NOW-he needs his Mumma.

The paed does their best to towel baby off and wants to swaddle but Ryan watching like a hawk tells them no-we are doing immediate skin to skin, as does midwife Maree.

Finally, he is brought to me and laid across my chest.

My first thought-his hair is so dark & he's got so much of it! (I was expecting a blondie having been one myself) and as I nuzzle in to the deliciousness of his head, putting our checks together and kissing him I realise how delicate and incredibly soft his skin is. I look at Ryan and ask 'Angus? Quinn or Flynn?' and just like that he is named.

I am so engrossed in my little man that I forget I've had major abdominal surgery. The OB sticks his head over the drapes to tell me I have the best developed abdominal muscles he has ever seen, with no fat-gees I made it easy for him haha! Yvonne tells me everything in terms of repair has gone very well and there is no reason I can't have a VBAC next-but I'll have to wait at least 2 years!

It is a bit awkward having Angus on my chest as I can't hold him there myself-he keeps slipping and my dead left arm cannot hold him. But I don't care. This is where he belongs and where he will stay. But then they have to take him away again as his breathing is a little rattly. Although he is gone just seconds it feels like an eternity as the empty place on my chest where he was just moments before becomes cold and feels heavy.

Once they give him back, I am determined that no one else will be taking him from me again. He is nuzzling into my neck, making the most adorable little noises. His big dark eyes, so dark they are almost black stare up at me. I know my twin flame and I have been reunited, brought back together in this life.
The high level of respectful care I received during my first birth experience means it is one I look back at with fondness. Despite having literally every single intervention imaginable I know there is not one thing we could have done differently to ensure a safe outcome for my baby and I. I have had many friends reflect more negatively on their straightforward vaginal births than I do upon my cat-1 C-section, which for me solidifies that it is the way you are treated during your labour and birth that impacts how you feel about it moving forward, rather than the mode by which your baby is born.