When We Prayed for a Baby to Stay
As I step back into the world of writing, I see it only fitting to bust the writers block using our son’s story. This space was created as an outlet & healing process for me during our 6 year infertility journey. Something to keep tabs on our growth & adventures, something to work hard on, something to share with our one day family. How surreal is it that that family is finally here. May 24 of 2022 at 7:39 pm we welcomed our sweet baby boy into the world. His entrance was nothing short of what we prayed for, even if it was yet the hardest obstacle for me to process. Here is the birth story of our Gentry Bernard.
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In this blog post you will happily find…
+ the pregnancy story
+ the birth story
+ the birth trauma
The Pregnancy Story
Much of our story stems from the very beginning so I like to share some details of our pregnancy. From the gecko, we had a feeling the dates our doctor chose were off. Not to get into too much detail, but after trying to conceive for 6 years, you kind of know what’s going on. However, they take the size of the baby around 8 weeks at the dating scan & go with that date. I understand that at this gestation it is more accurate for sizing, but I was also told that a Vitamin D deficiency could cause smaller fetus sizes in which I very much had this deficiency. Anyways, we went with the date the doctor said — May 27, 2022.
This was the same doctors office that shut me off during our second miscarriage. The same cold, monotone ultrasound tech that argued with me the existence of our second child. The same doctor & nurse that couldn’t take an extra second to review my chart or offer me every possible solution to our problem. Many times through out the pregnancy I thought about or tried to find someone else. In the end, though, I kept with this office because my lack of motivation in doing the work of switching & in the end, it turns out well be finding a new doctor, a new office & a new hospital… probably.
Every ultrasound I had after the dating scan measured the baby to be due closer to May 13 which was a closer match to when we believe our date should be based on when conception would have taken place. I didn’t think much of it until my Gestational Diabetes test. After doing the test but before the results came in, my doctor sat me down & prepared me for what she believed would be an absolute fail. Because the baby was measuring so big (hence where the dating situation could be the culprit) & because of my history with PCOS. I agreed that I probably had it & that was that. Once the results came in I was so pleased to see that I in fact did not have GD having a score of 85 — I guess your number should be between 65 & 140. If its above 140 then you could have it. My next appointment my doctor cared to share how shocked she was & that we just have a big baby for no reason…. That’s fine, I LOVE a big, chubby baby. I didn’t know that at every appointment moving on I would have to hear how there’s no way we can make it to 40 weeks, that well be a c section for sure & that there was so much concern over his size.
Up until the appointment before we delivered him, we heard the worst. Not sure what changed but all of a sudden the last appointment where we scheduled our 39 week induction, the doctor lost all concern for his size & seemed to not have a care in the world about how big he was measuring. This was nice to hear especially right before going into the induction but the shift in mindset through us off. Why make us worry for all those weeks if it wasn’t a big deal. This was our first full term pregnancy, we don’t know what to expect. That’s what you lean on the doctor for.
Now for the important part, welcoming our sweet & big boy into this world.
The Birth Story
First things first, the short part of the story — induction round one! We went in right at 39 weeks, it was Friday, May 20th. My grandpas birthday, actually, the one who’s name sake Gentry holds. I went in at 1 cm & started our first round of Cytotec at 7 pm. At this point, I was not ready for pit & the baby still didn’t drop, despite my STRONGEST efforts as of 34 weeks.
We waited 4 hours to see if there was progress & there was none, so we took another round of Cytotec. This repeated for a couple more rounds until Saturday at noon they sent us home to come back & try again in a few days. Heartbroken, we were discharged, went home with our empty carseat, my pregnant belly & 15+ hours of contractions worth of zero progress.
Hopeful this would have kicked my body into gear while we were at home, we waited for Monday night to come to do it all over again. I contracted the entire time we were home, knowing that work was being done. I was thinking we would go in ready to roll. Nope. Still no progress. So we do it all again.
Monday night, at 7 pm, we started Cytotec again. This time we only had to do a couple of rounds before I was ready for Pitocin. 12 hours later — Tuesday, May 24th morning — they started Pit & we were rocking & rolling. It was a joyous time. We were laughing, dancing, hanging out in our room attached to my IV with consistent & strong contractions. At this point I was pushing 2 cm, which was still disappointing after days of contractions but finally being on Pit I thought this would be it.
Around 9 am they checked me again & no further progress was made. Frustrating! They decided to break my water which was my “okay” for an epidural. I heard from many people that Pitocin creates harsh contractions & your water is your cushion. Once that was broke I had a feeling I would be over it all & come to terms my drug free delivery would add another drug to the list. I was still proud of myself for going multiple days without pain management & I had a one track mind, to meet my baby.
It was infant, as soon as they broke my water the contractions were constant & intense. It wasn’t long that I asked for the epidural only to be denied for “not being progressed enough”. Frustrated, defeated & hurting, I went along with it until I felt like I really couldn’t handle it anymore, which wasn’t long.
I should add that since I was admitted for the first induction, my blood pressure skyrocketed. What was a non issue the entire pregnancy became a worry for me hearing “boarder line preeclampsia & tacky fetal heart rate” with every nurse visit. I am still not sure what all that means but to a very pregnancy mother in L & D, they are not fun words to hear.
Anyways, after my second & very pushy request for an epidural again, the nurse agreed to ask my doctor again who then confirmed they would give me one. The anesthesiologist came in & did 2 attempts around 11 am only to leave with a failed epidural. It was an odd feeling, but a rush came over me with this gut feeling we would end up a c-section. I still didn’t progress & he still didn’t drop & I was over all of it. I told the nurse let’s just do a c-section. She said no we should try more, so we waited another hour for the second to come in & give his shot. Hearing “your contractions are off the charts” was the first validation I was given for the work I was putting in after the nurse would belittle the pain I was feeling. Not being able to get calm & STILL not progressing, I felt in my heart a successful epidural would help my body relax & do what it needed to to get ready.
This second epidural was far from successful but closer to it than the first. I was still able to fully move my legs (could have walked around if I wanted to), feel the contractions, but the sharpness was gone. I could finally relax. Feeling contractions didn’t bother me at all, but not having that intense pain I was able to calm down. Now we wait to progress. We were 3 or 4 hours after they broke my water where they stated if there’s no progress after 6 hours it would be an automatic c-section. Still feeling that would be the route we would have to take, we were at total peace about that being they way we met our baby. (We didn’t know the gender yet!)
Time went by, we were at the 5.5 hour mark post water breaking & we were excited we were potentially minutes from meeting our baby. We dreamed of Luke cutting the chord, announcing our baby boy or baby girls’s arrival, feeling that cheek against mine. All the things. We were so close to them just calling it. The nurse came in to check, I progressed. NOW I progressed…. We were equally happy & disappointed. Happy to still have a chance at a portion of birth being as we hoped but at the same time disappointed that if they called for a c-section it would be so soon. No more watching blood pressure or heart rate in fear of bad news. No more waiting to feel kicks & being filled with anxiety because our baby would be here.
They continue to come in & check me & around 5:30 pm I was at a 10. The nurse called in my doctor, she asked how I felt, I said it felt like it was time to push & she agreed. In the most non-expressive way, they coached Luke & I on what to do, we did the breathing, did the counting, did the pushing. At this point the epidural was slowly fading away. I was able to know when to push, feeling everything.
After an hour of pushing, the doctor looked at the clocked & looked at me & said “are you done?”. Me, being done HOURS if not DAYS ago, knew my pushing was not doing anything & we needed another way. There was a shift, the baby was completely on my left side causing my belly to be shifted way over & I wasn’t feeling anything but the pain of a constant contraction. The doctor called for a c-section for “failure to drop” & we waited for the team to get together.
It took an hour. An hour being consumed by the pain of childbirth, a baby wanting to come out but can’t, heartbreak for how things were happening, embarrassment for how the birthing team was making us feel. At one point I remember hearing the doctor say that I was hyperventalating. I remember shaking & being in so much pain, I don’t think I ever opened my eyes from the moment I stopped pushing to when I opened them after the birth. Anyways, it was the longest hour of my life. The doctor performing the c-section looked at me & asked why I was crying.. Really? I will admit I did not act with grace during these few conversations while I was breathing through the pain.
I was just so sad. Sad that I was denied an epidural at first only to need two that still barely worked. Sad that I asked for the c-section after being educated by my doctor how we would probably need one. Sad that after I brought this frustration up to the nurse it was shot down with “we didn’t know this would happen”. I felt like a guinea pig & that everything was out of control.
They pull me down to the OR for the operation, starting the spinal tap. I hear the anesthesiologist say “if I knew she had an epidural I could have gone through there”. I was crying in pain, unable to do what I needed for the spinal tap & feeling very confused why there was such a lack of communication especially when there is a giant needle going into my spine area again. They lay me down, test my legs, spinal tap failed. We do it all again. I remember them tossing me around, knowing they were trying to work fast but truly just feeling like a complete burden to them. At one point a nurse yelled at my to calm down but all I felt was my baby being lodged in my left side. I am already a dramatic person, don’t put me in dramatic events.. lol
The second spinal tap was done & once again it failed. I begged for them to put me out so I wouldn’t feel them cut me after all the pain I was already feeling & knowing that was the only other option. After that I went to sleep.
I woke up to “He’s huge, he’s so cute” being said over & over. I slowly came to in a room with my doctor & a nurse cleaning up, tubes all hooked up to me, completely forgetting I was having a baby. Luke, in all his gear, walked in wheeling our baby on the cart. He looked just like me but felt like a complete stranger. I remember asking for a picture, a picture I now regret having been taken.
Luke was unable to be there for the birth since they had to put me under. So neither of this precious boys parents were there for him when he first entered the world. I was there physically, but mentally was completely elsewhere. This picture I have, the only one from the delivery, has 2 tired, blood shot eyed parents from crying & waiting for days for this arrival. Tubes for drugs to enter my system that I never even asked for. I look high as a kite & Luke looks like he saw a ghost. Nothing precious, nothing sweet, just a photo that’s memorable for one of the hardest experiences I went through.
No chord cutting, no special gender reveal, no being together as a family. The whole experience was nothing what we imagined or wanted & it took days to piece it all together. Luke would share details with me as he recalled them. I was heartbroken that I couldn’t give him the birth I wanted him to witness.
One detail he shared with me since I had to miss all the post birth details, was that the pediatrician that saw Gentry said he was probably actually 41 weeks gestation, not 39. Just like we tried to get the doctor to agree to prior. Something that could have been a game changer in our delivery all together. If they had the correct dates, we could have been induced at a true 39 weeks & he wouldn’t have been as big & would have been able to drop with our efforts.
I don’t mean to pull all the what if’s but when you grieve something you ask those questions. It is human nature. This is just full transparency here.
It took a while for me to come to terms with this experience because I felt trauma from it & selfishness all at once. My baby came to our room with us & wasn’t in the NICU. My baby came home with me. Those are things I am eternally grateful for & feel like saying I experience birth trauma is stealing from those who suffered greater. I am learning that there will always be a worse situation but no matter what you are allowed to feel sadness, heartbreak & hurt if something goes south. No matter if it’s a little or a lot south.
This is how our Gentry Bernard entered this world. His big, beautiful self. The baby that we prayed so hard to stay, stayed. He got stuck, actually. He was vacuumed out of a c-section for pete sake. We got closure from the hospital to a degree having them apologize & address our issues to the staff so that it won’t happen to another set of parents. I also asked my doctor if there was any chance I would have been able to push him out, thinking I just failed or was lazy (something c-sections tend to make you feel sometimes which are LIES) — her response was “no, he would not have, but it would have been unethical to not let you try. Maybe part of me thinks thats true but the other part questions if what we went through was more ethical or less.. Who knows & at this point who cares. I type this as a squeeze & kiss my baby over & over.
The Birth Trauma
There is a lot to the story that took me some time to process. At first it was pure confusion that quickly turned into udder heartbreak. Later, however, that heartbreak turned into what felt like selfishness & self pity. Like a “boo-whoo” type of situation. Now I feel like I have moved passed all these stages & into the chapter of “it is what it is” & for only being 2 months postpartum, I think that is pretty good. The birth trauma we experienced opened my eyes to things passed just having a baby. With our infertility & my pure envy of those having babies, that is all I saw in it. They had babies. They had what I desperately wanted.
Little did I know I would also strongly desire the experience of watching my husband cut the cord, seeing my baby all gray & squishy, hear the rush & busyness of the medical staff assisting us, hearing & seeing all of the details that came with welcoming our son into this world.
Little did I know I would long for the memories of that first eye contact after the adrenaline filled delivery, feeling his warmth from my womb on his face & body. Hearing the thoughts from those in the room with us on his appearance, his new name, how he entered this world.
Little did I know that in the end I would feel robbed of my child’s first moments on this earth. The thought that he lived here even for a moment without my knowledge of his entry makes me so sad. That I wasn’t the first one to hold him, to welcome him. We didn’t get our dream of hearing Luke announce if he was a he or a she. Instead we found out separately & myself as I was still just half asleep. So much of Gentry being born felt like a lie, like he was never mine in the first place. His little bruised face looked just like mine yet I couldn’t get myself to believe he was mine.
Little did I know that my baby would feel like a complete stranger to me.
Much of our experience in the hospital is a blur to me. Whether it was from the medications & drugs they pumped in me or just a mental block I put up, there is so much I don’t remember. Add that on top of the time I missed being asleep, I had to be filled in quite a bit once we were home of what happened. I don’t remember his first bath, feeding him at all, our conversations, or even what we did with him all day. Luke spent the first few weeks reminding me of these things & filling me in on what the nurses had shared with him & the little bit of what he got to witness.
The parts of the story that included rude medical staff, not being heard, lack of communication & control from our doctors, being in that kind of pain for so long, the heart rate & blood pressure changes, failed epidurals & spinal taps — all those things are easy for me to understand as hard things to go through. I would say that the physical parts of the trauma just feel like all the other hard things we’ve gone through while trying to grow our family. It’s the mental obstacles that are hardest for me to move past. The questions of what if I pushed harder or better, what if we did a c section the first time I asked for one, what if I didn’t get induced at all, what if I handled the pain better, what if what if what if.
I now feel like I am okay with how our Gentry entered the world, even though I would choose to be present for the birth of our son, I can accept this because he was okay, he is healthy, & most importantly we got to take him home. It still feels selfish being upset with his birth because we got what we prayed for & he never even had to be sent to NICU. For such a long time we longed for a baby, I shouldn’t care about all the little details. I guess I am still torn between feeling selfish for being sad about it & knowing that it’s okay to feeling many things all at once.
We got closure after communicating with the manager of the hospital our concerns, having some questions answered by my doctor & just praying through it all & thanking God for this big, beautiful gift.
After hardly believing we were actually going to have a baby to not being able to witness the birth of our son myself, I often look down at him in my arms in complete disbelief. I wonder how much of this doubt is normal though. I mean having a child no matter if there was a struggle or a wait or not has to be somewhat unbelievable. Right? At least that’s what I tell myself rather than thinking I am sitting alone in these thoughts. Regardless, I know it will all pass the more we get to know each other, the deeper we fall in love with one another & the heavier we lean on each other. Continuing to work on our bond is something I do daily now that I am self aware & it makes me even that much more excited to watch him grow because now I will be paying attention to how we grow together, too!