Jonathan Robert Deruyscher
My husband and I decided to start trying to get pregnant a few months after
we were married (May 1992). I was a little concerned about my ability to
conceive, because I have Crohn's Disease, and my mother possibly took DES
when she was pregnant with me (the doctor conveniently lost her records).
After several months of trying on our own, I got a little worried, and saw
an OB-GYN. She had me chart my cycles, and we found out that I wasn't
ovulating. So I went on Clomid. I got pregnant the second cycle, in June
of 1993. I found out I was pregnant on July 23, and had a miscarriage on
August 5th. It was the worst day of my life. The OB (a woman), had told me
I'd just have to "wait it out". When I went in to the office to be checked,
she told me that "these things happen." I went into the bathroom, where I
passed the baby. I called for a nurse, and apologized for the mess. I was
hysterical. The doctor called me back into her office, and told me "well,
I'm happy! Now we know you can get pregnant!" What a *itch! Here I just
lost a baby, and she's saying she's happy! And when the lab results came
back, I was told that it was "products of conception." No s**t! I could
have told them that! But no one could tell me why it happened.
It didn't occur to me to get another doctor. So, a couple of months later,
I started on the Clomid again. And again, I got pregnant on the second
month. This time, when I called the doctor, I was told that I could not get
an appointment until I was 8-10 weeks along. I was already terrified. It
turned out that the doctor was pregnant, and would be on maternity leave
when I was due. So I switched doctors. THis time I called a doctor who had
a midwife that worked with him. He spoke to me extensively on the phone,
even before I met him.
The pregnancy was fairly uneventful, and my duedate (which I KNOW was August
21st) was calculated by the doctor as August 27th. One week didn't make
much difference, they said.
It was a looooonnngg hot summer, and the baby had spent most of its time in
the right side of my uterus. I NEVER felt it move on the left side. I had
lots of back pain towards the end of the pregnancy, and spent a lot of time
leaning on door jambs.
I was getting impatient, and tired of all the phone calls of people asking
"haven't you had that baby YET?" so I begged to be induced (stupid move
#1). In retrospect, I think things would have turned out differently if I
had been patient and let him come on his own time. The doctor had told me
he thought the baby would come at the beginning of September, and I
definitely could not wait that long. I was not sleeping, and I was
exhausted! I wanted it OUT! So the midwife compromised, and said that if I
had not gone into labor by my Monday, August 29th appointment, that she
would induce me. So, on Wednesday, August 31st, I went to the hospital to
be induced.
I was a little worried about how my husband would react to me being in pain,
so I had my sister come along for support (stupid mistake #2 ... I won't do
that again.)
I was given a suppository at 7:30 am, and told to wait in bed, with the
monitor on, and then I would be allowed to get up and walk around. Well, by
11:00 a.m., I had had 4 suppositories, and still no painful contractions. I
had contractions that were measurable by the monitor, but nothing that I
really felt. Pitocin was reccommended by the midwife, and I figured she
knew what she was talking about. The pitocin helped speed things up some.
I was finally feeling the contractions, and was in severe pain by 1:00 pm.
The baby was posterior, and was refusing to move. I never felt any pain in
my belly... it was all in my back. I felt like someone was trying to break
my back. Still, though, the contractions were ineffective. So the pitocin
was cranked up. One nurse told me she'd never seen anyone given such a
large dose of pitocin. I can't remember what the drops were per minute, but
it was pretty much running into my IV in a continuous stream.
The midwife decided to try and break the amniotic sac. So in she came with
her hook, and I heard a "snap" as the hook caught the bag. I was bracing
myself for the pain that I knew would come with it. But it didn't break.
An hour later she tried again. Still no luck. She said she'd never had
that happen before, and asked if I had been eating really well during the
pregnancy?
I tried some of the Lamaze techniques I had learned (mistake #3... next time
I'll try Bradley!), but nothing worked. I was in such pain, that I couldn't
ask for help. My husband sat helplessly by my side, as I turned inward
during every contraction. The contractions were really strong, but not
regular enough. By 4:00, I was begging for an epidural. The back pain was
just too much, and I was exhausted.
All during this, my sister was in and out for a cigarette. She didn't know
what to do for me, and I was barely aware that she was there.
By 5:30, the OB came in and gave me my epidural. What a relief! I was
actually sitting up in bed laughing! I was checked every now and then, and
was dialating gradually. But the baby was still posterior and tipped to the
right. The midwife never made any suggestions to help him turn, and I
didn't know that there were techniques to help a posterior baby turn. The
midwife apparently thought I was wimping out by getting an epidural, and I
felt disgust coming from her when she spoke to me. I was angry, and didn't
know what to do. The epidural wore off, and I begged for more. THe pain
was unbearable. I was exhausted and needed to sleep! She relented, and
gave me another dose. By 9:00 pm, I was 10 cm dialated, and ready to push.
Unfortunately, I never felt the urge to push, and when the epidural wore
off, I couldn't because the back pain was so bad. So I got a third dose,
and tried to push with the contractions (which weren't registering on the
monitor - I wonder if that's because I had back labor?) Since pushing in
the bed wasn't working, the midwife wanted to try the birthing stool.
Unfortunately, I am only 5 feet tall, and my feet wouldn't completely touch
the floor, so I couldn't get leverage. So the midwife sat in front of me,
and told me to use her legs for leverage. I was afraid I'd hurt her, and
couldn't push effectively. Next, we tried pushing on the toilet, at which
the labor nurses had a fit! This was totally unorthodox and against
hospital policy! But we did it anyway. Since the epidural was wearing off,
it felt good to use the pipe behind the toilet to press against my back.
The toilet wasn't doing much, so we went back to the bed. The midwife kept
yelling at me, telling me to get MAD at this baby! Didn't work. The pain
in my back was just too bad, and she wouldn't give me any more of the
epidural. My sister gave up and went home at 11:00 pm, and told me to call
her when I had it.
Finally, around 12 midnight, I gave up. I started blowing through the
contractions. I just wasn't going to do it anymore. My husband finally
noticed that I wasn't pushing, and said "So, what, are you just going to
blow through the contractions?!" I said "You got it. They're going to have
to cut it out. I can't do this anymore." The midwife was really mad, and
FINALLY went to call the doctor. I guess she realized that you can't make a
woman push, if she's made up her mind! She told my husband that she's only
had one other woman "give up" like I did. When the OB examined me, he said,
"You're right. You need a c-section. There's no way this baby is going to
come out otherwise." I was totally relieved.
As the surgical team was being called in, I was prepped, and given another
dose of epidural, for the surgery. My husband was allowed in the OR with
me. He sat next to me, and I had an anesthesiologist behind my head. There
was another anesthesiologist there with quite an attitude. As I was being
numbed, he asked if I could feel a needle in different places. I told him
that I had sensation on my chest. He said "I didn't ask you if you could
feel anything there!" I was about to be sliced open from stem to stern, so
of course I was going to tell him if I had any feeling! What a jerk! The
pediatrician was also apparently miffed at having been woken up to attend a
woman who had copped out, and was even less friendly than that anesthesiologist!
All of our birth plans went out the window. No one asked if I wanted a
mirror to see. I was to terrified to even think of it. The
anestheisologist behind me was the only nice one there. He was nice enough
to tell my husband when the baby was about to be born, and asked him "would
you like to see your baby be born?" So, at 1:14 a.m., September 1, 1994,
Jeff got to see Jonathan come out of me. I didn't see a thing, and they
didn't let him cut the cord. So much for having the baby put on your chest
after the birth. They immediately whisked him off to the warmer, where he
was given apgars of 8 and 10. I didn't even see him until 20 minutes after
he was born, and even then, all the nurse did was let me kiss his cheek
before she took him away.
As I was being stitched up, Jeff followed Jonathan to the nursery. I was
having some weird sensations, feeling my legs falling off the table. I kept
telling the nurse to put my legs back on the table, and she finally
responded, and said "Your legs ARE on the table, honey" Little did I know
that that meant that I was getting feeling back. If she hadn't answer me,
who knows WHAT I would have felt as they were stitching me up!
After that, I don't remember much, until I woke up at 2:30. I was brought
the baby to nurse, and couldn't do that very well. I started to shiver
uncontrollably, and spiked a fever of 104. Jeff says they were piling the
blankets on me right out of the dryer! But I just couldn't warm up! My
lips were cracked and bleeding, and I was a mess! The next time I woke up,
it was 4:30 a.m., and the fever had reduced. I had missed my son's birth,
and bonding time. I felt so terrible, such a failure.
Jonathan is now almost 2 years old, and I still have regrets about is birth.
There are lots of "if onlys" and "what if I had done". I think I can now
start healing from my experience. I realize that my lack of education
contributed to what I now consider an unneccesary cesarean section (even
though I asked for it). If I had interviewed my birth team, done more
reading, and asked more questions, instead of being the "good little
patient", a c-section might have been avoided.
HOWEVER, Jonathan is a wonderful son, a joy to both his mommy and daddy! He
is finally saying Mama, and gives lots of hugs and kisses!
Jeff and I are actively researching our options in birthing our next child -
doulas, birth centers, and possibly Bradley or water birth. Even if the
next baby comes into this world via c-section, it will be after I have tried
everything in my power to have a VBAC, and therefore with no regrets.
Amy DeRuyscher