Stuck Between a Hospital and Hard Place: How Risky is a Home Birth for a "Low, High Risk" Birth?

That title was a mouthful, and so is this story. This post has been one I have considered writing a long time, but it is difficult emotionally, so I have avoided it. It's time to get it out there.

In 2009, I had a simple laparoscopic knee surgery to correct an old sports injury. I was naive and foolish to think any surgery was simple. (I think that is why I get especially angry when someone says, "Just have a cesarean, it's so easy.") At the time, I was taking the birth control pill. My doctor never told me to stop it prior to the surgery. He didn't feel my surgery and birth control were counter-indicated. Two days after my surgery, I got an intense pain in my ankle, following by intense swelling and the worst charlie horse I had ever had in my life. I went to a massage therapist who thought I might have a blood clot in my leg, but gave me a massage anyway. I went on like this for a week before a finally went to the doctor. I couldn't find a comfortable position, sitting, standing, laying down. I had to leave work, went straight to my doctor, who sent me to the ER. I jumped into the ER on one leg (not yet knowing the gravity of the situation.) As it turns out, I DID have a blood clot in my leg. The massage had dislodged it from my ankle, but luckily it became lodged in the artery behind my knee, only a 3 small pieces breaking off and traveled through my heart into my lungs. (Which had explained some intense chest pain I had recently experienced. That my friends was a minor heart attack when the clots bounced around in there.) The ER doctors told me I was lucky to be alive. I was young then, and thought they were exaggerating. A week in the ICU, not being allowed to get up at all (not even to use the toilet) showed how serious it was. I know now, I really was lucky to be alive. But I was left with more questions than answers. I tested negative for any type of genetic clotting disorder. I think it was the birth control pill because the estrogens in it can thicken the blood, but my orthopedic surgeon vehemently denies this. "Millions of people get knee surgery on the pill and don't clot," he told me.

Well I guess that I am the exception. Now, I can't take the pill, and any time I get pregnant, I have to take two blood thinner injections to the stomach a day. There is a risk of clotting in pregnancy, which is many times multiplied over the pill. I cannot take a blood thinner orally, because they have been shown to cross the placental barrier. I was covered in bruises on my stomach during my pregnancies. A needle phobia didn't help this situation. My husband had to give me 99% of my shots, because I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I asked my doctor how dangerous it would be for me (and my fetus) not to take these shots. She likened refusing this medication to doing a road trip, driving 85 mph down the highway without a seatbelt. Maybe I'd get to my destination safely (clot free) or maybe not. There's a change I could clot again and have a stroke or heart attack that would be disabling or fatal, or my placenta could clot and kill my baby.

Because of this clotting issue, I am considered high risk. However, in all other aspects, I am considered a low risk patient. I don't smoke, I'm not obese, I'm reasonably fit, I don't have "advanced maternal age". One of the doctors I have interviewed dubbed me a "low, high risk patient". Talk about confusing and frustrating.

When I started having babies, I never thought of a home birth. Hospitals were "just where you had babies." However, my heart has started longing for a home birth, or at least something very close. Six months ago you couldn't have told me this is what I would want. I would have thought you were crazy. I have never wanted a home birth. However, the more I meditate on what I have read in "Cut, Stapled, & Mended", the more I feel like a home birth would be the most conducive to achieving my VBA2C. I'm beginning to wonder though, if I really have any choices in regards to my birth location. I feel like I am stuck between the hospital and a hard place.

• Where am I going to find a midwife that would take me on as a patient knowing that I have the potential to be a serious bleeding risk if things go wrong. ESPECIALLY after 2 cesareans. 

• AND where am I going to find an OBGYN that would co-manage me with a midwife so I can get my medications, blood tests, etc.

But most importantly is this dilemma in my heart: Am I putting myself, my baby, and my family at substantial risk by trying to birth at home. Am I being irresponsible, foolhardy? Is the risk to my safety so great that I am willing to leave my children motherless and my husband a widower? Is the danger even that high, or have my doctors exaggerated my clotting risk to scare me into submission? I'm feeling backed into a corner. I'm beginning to wonder if I am going to "be allowed" to have the birth I want. I'm starting to wonder if I am going to have to be satisfied with the birth "I get". This really saddens me. After reading "Cut, Stapled, & Mended", I was full of hope. Now I realize that despite how similar Roanna and I are emotionally and physically, medically we are completely different. I feel a lot of sadness, because I can't image a doctor on the planet would approve of a home birth in my circumstances. Most don't approve of home birth for people with immaculate medical histories. I feel like I don't have a snowflakes chance in hell.

If you're reading this and have any experience or suggestions, I more than welcome them. Please tell me what I can explore. Who I might see, what avenues might I pursue? What are your thoughts?

Ebb and Flow, Stop and Start, Sprint and Crawl

I've been meaning to write for days, but Valentine's Day has thrown me for a loop. My little home bakery (i.e. myself) put out over 10 dozen cookies over the course of 4 days. That is the busiest I have ever been. Hence, everything else fell off the wagon. Laundry, diet, gym, sleep, spiritual journey…sort of collecting dust. I felt like I was getting nowhere, when I did a quick visit to Curandera. I told her what I had accomplished (which felt like nothing) when she told me that progress sometimes comes in spurts and stops. She reaffirmed how proud she was of me for doing this work. She told me to be gentler with myself.

So, now that the rush is over and I can breathe, I can get back to the purpose.

Highlights on actions that I have taken so far since last we met:

• I am been working to touch my scar.
• Several trips to the gym, and some improvements in diet.
• Called the hospital in an attempt to get my medical records. Gotten a weird voicemail twice and no return call. Grrr.
• I have purchased all the ingredients recommended by my Urban Curandera to do castor oil packs.
• I did my first home castor oil pack last night. 

The idea and mechanism behind the castor oil pack is that it breaks up and softens the scars both internally and externally. They are really easy to do and relatively inexpensive. For an in-depth look at scar healing, you can check out Curandera's workshop here.

The pack itself was fine, again it was the after effects seemed to hit me hard. I have been chatting with Curandera to see what she thinks is going on.

I felt a real looseness in my pelvic floor, somewhat painful, but mostly just a feeling of weakness or low tone. Sitting up and standing up straight posed some difficulty, as well as lifting Lollipop out of her crib. Lifting my 40 lb toddler is almost out of the question. The best way to describe the sensation is that it feels like my uterus just might fall out of my vagina. Not in a bulging or pushing sort of way, but in a heavy weight sort of way.

Curnadera suggested that perhaps the castor oil is doing its job, breaking up the scar and adhesions that had been holding my uterus in its current position. As a result, my pelvic floor muscles (or lack there of) are having to take over, and they are showing me just how weak they are.

The feeling has persisted all day, and then as the day wore on a second symptom popped up: PHANTOM KICKS!

I had heard about phantom kicks before, but I had blown the idea off. Surely it was just mom's that missed being pregnant, or decided not to have another and trying to connect with a past fond memory.

I'm here to tell you they are REAL. Mine have been sporadic in both timing and activity I am doing when the occur. I was reading that they are thought to be the uterus having contractions, trying to get back into its normal shape. Again, the castor oil pack could have helped that, I'm sure.

I've been trying to take it easy tonight en lieu of how weak my mid section feels.

Tomorrow is the Red Tent in our area. I'm both looking forward to it and really nervous. I'm afraid about what might come up. Doula encouraged me to bring a notebook to draw or mediate on my labyrinth. A lot of birth traumas are sure to come up, and I am very sensitive to it. There could be women that talk about their births with a history of sexual abuse. I cannot even watch a movie that has a rape scene it without being upset about it for months. The small "PG-13" rape scene in the teen lit movie, Divergent, bothered me for weeks. I don't know how to explain it other than that I am very sensitive. My emotions are very close to the surface at all times. I can cry over a moving song or a poignant commercial. It's hard to strike them from my mind later. I replay them over and over in my head.

I'm hoping my determination doesn't waver. The weather is poor, and I'm looking for excuses not to go. I thought Doula was going, but she will be attending a workshop instead. We promised to meet up afterwards to discuss it. I'm holding myself to that. Time to take another step forward and breathe.

One Step Forward, Two Steps…To the Side

After drawing my labyrinth, I hit a wall. I was so physically and mentally exhausted from the effort that went into creating and analyzing my feelings about it, that I have found it near impossible to move forward at this time. I read on in the book, the next step being to meditate on your labyrinth (lab) while adding a slight discomfort. I was just not ready to go there. I felt in a stall, I was losing progress. So, I decided to pause on the "lab work" and move laterally into a more physical form of healing.

I finally went and saw my local Curandera, a traditional healer that uses natural remedies to cure ailments of the body and spirit. It was a spur of the moment decision. I knew I had to keep moving forward or I would keep sliding back. I booked my appointment, and was promptly at her door at 10 am Saturday morning.

I drove up to her bungalow and parked in a grassy lot across the street. Wild plants adorned the yard, and beautiful chickens scratched for worms behind a large iron gate. She sauntered off the porch to greet me like an old friend, and welcomed me to her home; a charming 1950's bungalow. My apprehension was mounting for what I was about to experience. What was she going to say? What was she going to do to me?

We step inside her living room, and towards a front bedroom which she has turned into a professional den of relaxation. Paintings, a belly cast, oils, candles, a large massage table. It should be an anxious person's dream escape. She must have seen the apprehension in my eyes.

She cheerfully asked me what I was there to work on. I started matter of factly: "sore back, a tight neck,  a scar to look at." But only a few moments later, I teared up a bit and managed to spit out that it had been a long road to get to her because of all the trauma surrounding my birth. We had perviously talked at two of her lectures, so she wasn't completely taken off guard. She could tell I was on edge.

She has a history of working with mothers, as a doula and a massage therapist. She has also work with women who have been assaulted. She understands the body-soul connection and how they can help or hinder a birth, or even healing in general. She could see that I was reaching for help, but at the same time scared to confront a trauma. So she did the most comforting thing she could:

1.) Told me how brave I was for coming to work on this. And
2.) Talked about the four agreements:

• Agreement 1: Be impeccable with your word - Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean.  Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.

• Agreement 2: Don’t take anything personally - Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.

• Agreement 3: Don't make assumptions - Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness and drama.

• Agreement 4: Always do your best - Your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick. Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse and regret

These agreements served to address boundaries and eliminate fear of what was going to happen. She would not assume that she could touch my body without it truly being okay. It was also true that it was my responsibility to not assume that she knew where my boundaries were, and to be clear with my words and expectations. As a result, no one would be offended (because we are speaking only the words we mean), no one was getting upset (because were not taking anything personally, and asking for clarification if something said seemed off-putting), and everyone was committed to giving 100 percent of themselves from where they were at that moment.

Before we got started I asked to use her restroom. Ever since my 1st cesarean, I can hardly stand up without having to go pee. My second cesarean surgeon had mentioned that I had a lot of scar adhesions to my bladder. It is possible they have returned. I passed down her hall, and admired her phone nook, which had been turned into an alter. Sitting on her toilet, I knew had come to right place.

Surely a woman with herbs drying in her tub knows what she is doing.

Now, this was by no means my first massage. As someone with high anxiety, I used to get them all the time when I was working. As a stay at home mom, I've had to adjust my expectations of comfort. Usually, I request total silence during a massage so I can FOCUS on being relaxed. It sounds ridiculous even saying it. But with Curandera, I prattled on and on. She let me unload on her…like catharsis.

We had a few laughs as she worked on my tight muscles. She applied a castor oil pack to my scar, and kneaded it to assess where my innards now lie. She has a strong suspicion that my uterus is tight to the left side of the scar and that is tilting forward, possibly pulling my back muscles in the process. What was surprising was that she was able to work on it as long as she was. At home, as I had previously mentioned, I can't touch or look at my scar without getting physically ill. My husband can barely touch it. Overall, she was pleased with how it looked, but asked me to continue to do weekly castor oil packs to soften the scar and underlying tissues. So, without further ado…a moment of bravery:

UGH. There it is: A low transverse cesarean scar. I put my hand there to show a size perspective. Gross.
#NoMakeup #NoFilter

Our session was over way too fast. She recommended that I come back after my next menstrual cycle, but continue to try to touch my scar often, even over clothing if I must, and do weekly castor oil packs.

I expected to be a little sore after a massage since rubbing on your muscles always releases toxins built up in your system. I drove the 45 minutes home, (FYI: It's an hour to anywhere in Houston) As I drove, and became increasingly fatigued. Almost alarmingly so. By the time I arrived home, I felt like I had been in a car accident. My entire body ached, my mouth was parched. This was nothing like I had ever experienced post-massage. I downed at least 4, 30 oz glasses of unsweetened tea and water, and tried to nap. Unfortunately, X-man and Lollipop had other plans. As the day turned to evening, I continued to down water. My limbs became heavier and heavier, my stomach churned. This went on for two days.

Last night, I worked on building a safe, sacred space to work on my scar and my emotions about my birth. I was at a loss of what to do for my extreme fatigue and pain, so I poured an epson salt bath. I soaked while trying to clear my head, gazing through the darkness at a candle and some flowers I had recently purchased.

"To thine own self be true."

I pulled myself reluctantly from the tub an hour later. I put a heating pad on my back and proceeded to sleep four hours straight. I am quite sure it is the first time since Lollipop has arrived (8 months) that I have gotten four hours of uninterrupted sleep. The following morning, while still sore, the fatigue fog had lifted.

I continue to seek the comfort of hot water to sit in, and cool water to drink to purge my body of what Curandera calls "trauma energy". It's time for bed now, one more glass of water, one more hot soak.

The Labyrinth of Birth, An Unexpected Journey

After plowing through my last reading assignment, I wanted to jump right into "Labyrinth of Birth" by Pam England. I was lucky to find Cut, Stapled, & Mended (CSM) in our public library, but was not so lucky with the Labyrinth. Before spending money on a book I wasn't sure I'd derive any value from, I confess, I read all the reviews on Amazon. Most seemed pretty crunchy with five stars praising its worth. Then there was the glaring single star review that said that the book was ok in the way of being arts fartsy, but was essentially a waste of money when it came to childbirth, spend your money elsewhere. Hmmmmm…I decided to try to keep an open mind, while quieting my inner cynic.

The mailman was knocking on my door the day I finished CSM, and I didn't want to lose any steam. I tore open the envelope and began reading what I expected was a mediative book on delivery; something to help me relax, go with the flow. The subtitle of the book says, "Creating a Map, Meditations and Rituals for Your Childbearing Year." I guess I thought it would be easy, if anything, easier than Cut, Stapled, & Mended. No graphic depictions of surgery or emotionally charged chapters. Just flowers and humming, swaying, and pretty pictures.

Boy, was I wrong. This book is hard. Not hard in terms of the words on the page, or the concepts put out. Hard as in real work. It is a book that is not meant to just be read, it is meant to be experienced.

Early in the book, you are asked to draw your own labyrinth, including foot prints, a threshold, and symbolic entry decor. Well…I decided I'd skip that part and do it later. I wanted to finish the book. Period. After that, I'd go back, do the drawings or dance naked in the backyard banging a tambourine or whatever.

Nope. Doesn't work that way.

WTF am I doing?!

Of course you can read on skipping the drawings part, which I did for a half a chapter. However, I felt like I was missing a connection I was supposed to be making. What Pam was talking about in the following chapters REALLY required you to not skip any steps. I soon realized if I tried to skip steps, tried to skip the work required to truly experience this book, I was missing the entire point.

Reboot to tonight, I did my first drawing and BOY WAS IT EYE OPENING. I actually started one and then scrapped it because I was pressing so hard when I drew that I snapped my crayon clean in half. Oops.

So here it is (don't laugh, I'm a crummy artist):

So many symbols, so many realizations

Okay let's talk about this. First things first, Pam recommends that you use a sheet of paper you can fold in your pocket to take with you and hang near where your birth journey will take place. I personally grasp concepts better when they are written large. I did my drawing on a giant post-it board, the kind that you use in meetings or to play Pictionary. She also recommends using pastels in case you make a mistake you can buff it out. Well, I hate pastels, they are messy and I had tons of other art supplies. Plus, I didn't want to spend more money. I am cheap. In hindsight, however, they were probably purposefully suggested. Looking at the illustrations in the book, the examples drawn by her students have this organic feeling; this smoothness and flow. I, on the other hand, used a Sharpie marker. While I was initially satisfied with it's clean, crisp look, I now feel that it looks very ridged and unforgiving. Hmmm….

(Inner thought to meditate on: The rigidity of the walls of my labyrinth. Is this symbolic of my anxiety and search to maintain control? Perhaps symbolic of my cesarean cuts, the tight line of the scar?)

This is a 7 circuit labyrinth, which is referred to as the "classic". It is the one that the book instructs you how to draw for your first. It is round which indicates it is feminine; a square is considered masculine.

Labyrinths can be left-handed or right-handed. The "handedness" refers to the first turn you make as you enter the "mouth" or entrance of the labyrinth. An initial right turn is associated with "Great-Feminine", while a left turn is associated with "Divine-Masculine".

I struggled with this initially, trying to decided if I wanted a masculine or feminine labyrinth. It seems like a person woman on a birth journey would naturally chose a the feminine. Honestly, I have never really associated with women, so I thought masculine might be a better option for me.

Then, I thought back to the times when I wanted women around me and how there were few, if any, present. I struggled to find women to be my bridesmaids, come to bridal and baby showers, and other traditionally female times. In a way, my journey mirrored Roanna Rosewoods from CSM, as she had the same difficulty of connecting with women. I feel really alone when I look back and realize that I essentially had good number of acquaintances standing with me up on by the alter when I should've been surrounded by my best friends. Roanna must have felt the same way at her blessing-way.

I didn't want this journey to be like that one. So, in the end I chose the feminine. Thankfully so, because that is the one the book teaches you step by step to draw.

Let's go, Ladies.

I tried to just draw and let it happen. You might ask why I chose the color blue for my lab when I was intent on trying to be more feminine. Truth be told, it's because I am hoping our next baby will be a boy. So, in honor of this symbolic journey to meet him, I chose blue. I also chose blue because I wanted the labyrinth color to be soothing like water.

The paths are supposed to be wide enough so you can trace them with your fingers while saying your mediations. Check. Before I added the other parts like the feet and vines, I thought my lab looked somewhat like a placenta. HARK! Am I on the right path?

Next you are supposed to add the feet at the entrance of your lab, about 2 inches from the entrance. I chose to make the feet red for multiple reasons. First, red symbolized the blood of the surgeries I have endured, and the hundreds of shots of blood thinners I had to take while pregnant. Red is also a powerful color, and I wanted my walk to be powerful and with purpose. After I drew them I noticed they were not square with the entrance to the labyrinth:

Which way are we going?

This WAS NOT done on purpose. I don't know what else to say other than my subconscious played its hand here. Shit is getting deep.

(Inner thought to mediate on: Does my feet not being square with the entrance symbolize that I am unsure I want to continue on the road of a VBA2C or to continue on the route of a scheduled cesarean?)

Next you are to draw a threshold, a symbol of transition and transcendence. I decided to draw a tangled vine of flowers. Firstly, because I feel I can draw a half decent flower. More importantly, I wanted the mess of vines to represent the complexity and convolutedness of this journey. The analogy of following a vine from root to flower rings very very true to me. One can easily be led astray by following the wrong curly-cue, and get tangled in a web of thorns, fear, and doubt. You're tempted to hack through to find the answers you want quickly, but that kills the vine. Your birth journey is both tangled and intertwined with other women and your care providers, whether they are doctors, midwives, or lay support. Sometimes your vine takes a divergent path than that which you or your provider wants. Are they going to force you to grow their way, pruning and securing you to the "trusted" path. Or are you going to curl off in a different direction, finding your own sun and soil? Yes, I feel a vine is apt.

Lastly, you are supposed to decorate the entrance of your lab with an image that holds symbolic meaning. I chose to draw an old-fashioned key. I chose an old-fashioned key because I feel like it symbolizes the wisdom of women who have already completed this journey, who can help us younglings to find the tools we need to be successful. I chose a draw a red ribbon on the key to again, emphasize the femininity of a beautiful ribbon and power in the color red.

Women are the key to finding the answers needed on this birth journey.

Once the lab is completed, you are supposed to trace it, slowly and purposefully. Again, in a rush to get an item checked off my list, I tried to race through to make sure I didn't make any mistakes. I got lost, the lines ran together. I started again. I moved too fast. I got lost again…and again…and again…………….and again. That's when I went back to the book to see what I was doing wrong. You are supposed to go SLOWLY with your non-dominant hand, while saying a mediation. I decided to reserve the mediation for later, but I proceeded with an eye roll and a sigh to use my non-dominant hand to slowly trace the labyrinth. "This is stupid," I was thinking. "What difference does it make what speed I go, it's all going to just run together anyway.""In, to the center, turn around back out again, right?"

Well, not exactly. What I found really interesting (and perhaps personally symbolic) is that I not only did NOT get lost when I went slow, but the path went differently than I thought it would. I mean intuitively, I thought I would enter, then sharply go to the outer most circuit, working its way to the innermost circuits and back out. What really happened is that you are almost tricked into thinking you are taking this shortcut to the center before you are swung back out into the outer circuit. This realization was probably the most symbolic discovery of this whole exercise. It was teaching me that I was looking for a quick answer to the middle, to the birth I wanted. But that is not how this journey works.

No shortcuts on a spiritual journey.

I truly have many things to think about.

The Seemingly Insurmountable Goals, The Mountain Before Me

Lai Tzu once said, "The journey of of 1000 miles begins with one step." Creighton Abrams famously stated that in order to eat an elephant, you must take one bite at a time. Why is that first step so hard? I've been procrastinating over an hour trying to even figure out how to start this very post.

Everyone seems to make New Year's resolutions that are tossed aside almost as quickly as they are formed. "This year I am going to eat better, exercise more, save more money…" they all say. By February 1, we are back to our old habits: eating ice cream in front of re-runs, paying for gym memberships we will never use.

When I got pregnant with Lollipop, I vowed to do better, to try harder. But somewhere in the middle of managing a very active one year old while feeling constantly exhausted during my pregnancy, I mostly gave up. I did some things better, but for the most part, I failed.

I FAILED. Full Stop.

I let my daughter, Lollipop, down. I let my husband down. I let my doula down. I let myself down. I gave up.

Now here from the ashes, we are brought to believe we can rise, be reborn. Be a phoenix. I'm no phoenix. I have the willpower and patience of most my generation, which is nil. At best I'm a one eyed, single eared, three-legged dog named "Lucky". Good things that happen to me, well they happen to me by good luck. Bad things that happen, well those things happen because I am lazy, slovenly. I want miraculous changes without miraculous effort.

For seven months I have had a list of things to achieve to attempt optimal conditions for my VBA2C. And what have I done…pissed away seven months.

Oh, now don't be gentle with me and make excuses:
"Oh you were recovering from surgery, you needed 2 months at least to get over that!"
"You have two children under two years old, you're doing great if you shower everyday."
"Once the kids are a little older and more independent you'll get on track fast."

Nope.Nope.Nope.

I'm so paralyzed by fear that I can't even write what my goals are. I'm sitting here quibbling over word usage and grammar. Sigh

Deep breath.

If you write a goal, it's out there for the world to see. If you write a goal, there's accountability. Just another thing to disappoint myself with if when I give up.

Deep breath.

After my VBAC failed, my doula came to visit me. She spelled out some things I should try if I were to attempt another VBAC. They are as follows:

1. Join my local ICAN support group and attend the meetings.
• To date I have liked their Facebook page and attended ZERO meetings.
2. Read the following books: "Cut, Stapled, and Mended" by Roanna Rosewood and "Labyrinth of Birth" by Pam England.
• To date I have successfully NOT lost the scrap of paper these titles have been written on.
3. Contact a local midwife that specializes in assessing pelvimetry to see if what my OBGYN said to me after my births is true: (that I likely had a small pelvis inlet, which is why my babies didn't "could not" descend into the birth canal.)
• To date I have followed the woman's Facebook page and checked out her website. Before I see this lady, I must obtain my surgical reports from my doctor. So this is a double demand.
4. Attend a Red Tent event hosted by our local midwives and doulas. A red tent is "a space where women gather to rest, renew, and often share deep and powerful stories about their lives." The Red Tent movement is changing the way that women interact and support each other by providing a place that honors and celebrates women, and by enabling open conversations about the things that women don’t want to talk about in other venues
• To date I RSVP'd for 2. Bailed out on the first one, the second one is happening soon.
5. Contact our local "Curandera". If this sounds like hippy dippy bullshit to you, allow me elaborate. Our curandera specializes in scar mobilization, Maya Abdominal Therapy, and postpartum support in the way of standard massage techniques, herbalism, spiritual support, and down right badassery. The goal being to help my scar to heal flatter, and promote internal relaxation of the pelvic organs by reducing surgical adhesions. 
• Arguably my most tackled step. To date I have listened to her give two talks. Liked her business page on Facebook, "friended" her on Facebook, spoken with her via private message and email briefly, purchased a massage certificate to redeem, asked her to meet for coffee. (unfortunately she was too busy :-/ ) AAAnnnnnddd, I told her about this blog when she checked up on me. She knows my PPD (postpartum depression has be by the throat.)
6. Find a new birth provider that supports me in having a VBA2C.
• This requires me to find a new doctor and a new hospital. To my knowledge, the only hospital that openly supports VBA2C in our city is the dreaded county hospital, Ben Taub. (more on this eventually, I'm sure.)

That's a tall order for an anxious, lazy ass like myself. These items are on top of my personal goals:

1. Loss weight to the tune of 20 pounds. *groan*
2. Exercise twice weekly. *Louder groan*
3. Talk to current OBGYN to assess my pelvic floor damage *Loud, painful groan with a bowl full of embarrassment*
4. Learn to relax, stop being hyper-vigilant ALL THE TIME. 
• This is arguably the toughest goal. I am high strung by nature, and probably should be getting some kind of treatment for my anxiety. I had my first panic attack in 3rd grade. How do you change something so ingrained in your personality? I used to take medication, but I didn't like the way it made me feel. I have a master's degree in clinical psychology, so I have the knowledge necessary to continue to skill build in this area. I work regularly to check in with myself to see how I am holding my body. I catch myself locked up at the shoulders and jaw almost every time I check. I am even tense while sitting on the toilet. I'm so locked up tight. My poor husband; my lady parts are essentially closed for business. It's just too painful.
5. Correct my separated Diastatsis recti. Which look something like this:

"Yea, a picture!"

I'm currently at a 2" separation (This is not me by the way)

I have been assessed, and have located a trainer. I have not joined the program.

As you can see, I have quite a list in front of me. Some of these steps are hindered by fear of failing. Will I invest all this time and energy only to end up on the operating table a third time?  Other hindrances come in the form of logistics (how on earth am I going have a pelvic exam with 2 little ones), and financial barriers (skills cost money, and they ain't cheap.) Is their such a thing as vagina scholarships?

In the coming weeks, I hope to explain to you why these goals are important for a VBAC journey. This post has already gotten out of hand in length. So I better call it quits for tonight.

The Beginning of a New Birth Journey

If you are reading this, I am happy you found me. I am a woman, struggling to have a natural birth in a medically crazed society. A place where an intimate event that used to take place in the safety and quiet of our own homes has turned into an impersonal, fearful…and almost mechanistic act. As birth has moved out of the home and into the hospital, we have lost some of our rights to our own bodies. While one can argue that we can always have the "right to refuse any procedure", in reality women are coerced, lied to, acted upon without consent, threatened, and scared into accepting procedures that they otherwise would have, and arguably could have, done without. How do I know? It happened to me, and countless other women I have read about.

That being said, my two darlings, X-Man and Lollipop, wouldn't be alive today without cesareans. I developed cholestasis with X-man, a liver disfunction that can cause stillbirth in otherwise healthy fetuses. My doctor let me labor for 40 hours before he became distressed and was taken. He spent 4 hours in the NICU with respiratory distress before being returned to me. Lollipop's water broke and after 48 hours of trying to jump start labor with Pitocin, I would not dilate and she went into distress. My VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) had failed.

I'm not here to be a martyr for natural birth. If you had a cesarean, loved it, and would schedule another one for every future baby, that is your prerogative. This blog is not intended to shame, defile, or otherwise persecute c-section mothers. C-sections have and do save many, many lives. What bothers me is that c-section rates around the country have been on the rise for decades. In Texas, we are at 35% of births being via c-sections (according to ICAN network). Some hospitals have a 100% cesarean rate.

What are we telling women in this country when one third or more of us don't have a normal, uncomplicated vaginal delivery? We are telling women that their bodies don't work and not to trust their instincts. We are telling women that they need expensive, invasive procedures to insure that they do not kill their infants by entertaining the idea that they know what is best for their bodies and babies.

This is where I am…

Even though my c-sections were medically justifiable, I cry every time I think about them. I can't look at my scar. I can't touch it. My husband can't touch it. I get nauseous when I put the slightest pressure on it.

I feel broken. Lost. Physically in pain. My body is not my own…

This is what brought me here.

In one year, I would like to start trying to conceive (TTC) our next baby. I have a huge, what feels like insurmountable, obstacle in front of me. I started writing to help process my feelings about what has happened, and to hold myself accountable for the changes I feel need to happen to get me to my goal of a successful VBA2C (Vaginal Birth After 2 Cesareans).

If you are reading this, you are reading a part of my journey. You may be a mother or mother-to-be yourself, looking for answers. I don't have all of them. All I know is that I am in a vulnerable place, as are many other women in similar situations. I may write about things that trigger uncomfortable emotions. You may feel anger or sadness, shame or frustration. Do not take those feelings out on me. Trolling the wounded does nothing. I welcome your comments and questions. They may serve as inspiration for me to open, learn, and share more. To relax more, to trust myself more. However, under no circumstances will I tolerate shaming, cruelty, rudeness, or fear mongering. Perspectives are different, we are allowed to disagree, respectfully.

So…I guess let's get started with the backstory: X-man's birth.