Tales of a VBAC Hypnobirth

Parts of this birth story are written in 'Hypnobirthing Language' which changes a lot of medical terms to gentler words. The medical terms are added in brackets the first time each is used.

This story begins with the events that shaped my views of birth. In 2010 I gave birth to my first child. At two weeks overdue, I was induced and my labour was horrific, as were my postpartum complications. I now attribute this to the fact my labour was artificially induced.

In December 2011, I fell pregnant with my second child. During the first trimester, my loving partner tragically passed away in our home during an epileptic seizure.
Remembering how traumatic my first birth was, I didn't believe I'd cope, especially given the dark place I was already in. Instead, I opted for an elective C-section.

Early in my final pregnancy, I discovered a place I now view as The Gold Standard in prenatal and postnatal care: My Midwives. I cannot speak highly enough of My Midwives and the pivotal role they played in my pregnancy, birth, and postnatal care. My chosen midwife was Bec and she will always be a very loved woman in my household. My student midwife was Alice, who is now fully qualified. She too, played an important role in my daughter’s birth.

My birthing time (due date) was less than two years since my C-section. This put me at a slightly higher risk of my scar rupturing birth; however, having both a vaginal birth recovery and a C-section recovery to compare, there was no way I was going back on that operating table if there was any way to avoid it. 

Not only were the recoveries vastly different, comparing my two babies, my first consistently slept for eight hours at a time from day-dot, was breastfed exclusively for five months, and was rarely sick. My second consistently slept for no more than two hours at a time, was severely lactose intolerant, seemed to be forever sick, and at three months old, spent a week in hospital battling Bronchiolitis and Human Metapneumovirus. 

It may be coincidence. After all, every baby is different. Maybe all these things would have happened the same way if I'd allowed my second-born to be a spontaneous, natural birth, or even induced if necessary, like my firstborn. But maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t have been. Either way I knew what I wanted and needed this time around: a VBAC (vaginal birth after caesarean).

At my first appointment at My Midwives, I picked up a brochure on something else I hadn't heard of until this pregnancy: Hypnobirthing. I decided it was something I wanted to try and booked in for the private classes that would take place in my home. 

I was apprehensive at first. I suffer with anxiety and low self-confidence but I read the textbook, listened to the affirmations and Rainbow Relaxation each night, and hung the pictures and hand-outs from our classes on my wardrobe.

The day before my daughter was due to arrive, she was showing no signs of coming. Fear welled up in me. Because of my recent C-section, they were unable to induce this birth if labour didn’t commence spontaneously. This would result in the operating table again. I'd heard great things about acupuncture to bring on labour, so I made an appointment for the following day. I went to bed early that night but it wasn’t to be for long. 

At 1:00am on my due date, I was awakened by what felt like menstrual cramps. I couldn’t get back to sleep. Having never experienced spontaneous labour, I thought there was a chance this may be nothing. After an hour or so I began timing and putting my hand on my tummy to feel whether it was tightening (contracting). I was almost sure they were surges (contractions) but was still reluctant to call anyone in case I was wrong.

 

The surges became stronger and closer. I made a coffee and walked around the house, breathing my way through them. At about 3:00am, I called Bec and described what was happening. 

She said, 'You need to head to hospital. I’ve just got home from another birth and I have to rest and go back soon but I'll come up with Karen (my backup midwife) and rest at the hospital.' 

I began calling family to find someone to look after my boys. My mother, who lived forty-five minutes from me but only ten minutes from the hospital, was happy to look after them.

By the time I got to the hospital, my surges were so close I began to fear my daughter may be born in the elevator! I got into the birthing suites and put my Hypnobirthing CD on. My backup midwife offered an internal exam to see how far I'd progressed and against Hypnobirthing advice, I made a mistake that would have catastrophic consequences on my labour. I agreed, sure this would confirm my daughter’s entrance was imminent. 

When Karen declared four centimetres, my heart sank. I'd been in labour for 4-5 hours, and still had so far to go. I tried to get back into my Hypnobirthing zone of calm but it was difficult. I couldn’t lay down or even sit or my surges would stop.

I'd sat down most of the time in the shower during my first labour. This time, I had to stand in there or rest on my knees over the back of the bed.  This made it tough to relax and focus and with each further internal exam, I became more disheartened at how slow I was progressing.

When Alice arrived, she was a Godsend. She'd been with me throughout the entire pregnancy and I was comfortable with her. As lovely as Karen was, she wasn’t the plan and she later told me she could sense that and tried to hover at the back of the room unless she was needed.  

I loved Bec and not having her there most of the time was hard but Alice saved the day. I was so grateful for her presence. Bec was in and out many times, she did the best she could. She had several mothers in labour simultaneously but Alice remained by my side.

By eight centimetres, I was screaming for an epidural. I feared it was all for nothing and I'd end up on the operating table again anyway. In my terrified mind, I was already there. I figured if I had an epidural, at least I could get there painlessly. 

Converting pain to pressure, as taught in Hypnobirthing, was long gone. I’d given up and my fear was making my surges immensely painful. Being aware of my surges ceasing when I sat or laid down, Bec explained that if I had an epidural and was confined to my back, I would doubtlessly end up back on the operating table because I'd no longer be able to stand up or use different positions to get things moving again. I told her I didn't care and Bec made a decision that I'll forever be thankful for. She chose to tell me what I needed to hear; that she’d spoken to the doctor and an epidural was coming. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t true but I also knew how grateful I was that she hadn’t given in to my weakness. She was following my birth plan and it would save my daughter and I from the operating table. 

I began breathing my baby down, up on my knees, bent over the back of the bed. I was finally back in my zone. The room and everyone in it were gone. I was deep within with my daughter. 

The only thing I remember hearing was Alice saying, 'I can see the head. Get Bec.' 

And Karen shouting, 'Whoa, slow down!'

 

I couldn’t slow down. I was breathing my daughter down but she was in control and there was nothing I could do to stop her. Everything happened so fast. I was later told that the midwives were shouting that I needed to get onto my back but I can’t remember hearing anyone saying anything. This was further proof that, at the paramount time, I'd returned to my Hypnobirthing zone. 

I didn’t even hear a beeping or a buzzing when someone hit the emergency button; nothing. All I remember is I was suddenly surrounded by at least ten doctors and nurses, after one of them reefed me onto my back, thrust a blinding light onto me, and shoved both my legs back—something I later learned is called the McRoberts Maneuver. 

I was stunned and had no idea what was happening. I didn’t even realise my daughter was out and had been taken away. Through the blur of faces, Bec’s came into focus. I remember tearfully shaking my head and tentatively asking her what was happening. I thought my scar had ruptured. 

'Your baby’s fine,' she said, smiling. 'She’s just over there. Can you hear her crying?'

I couldn’t bring myself to look. I shook my head again, still lost in confusion. Why was she over there? Why was her cord cut? Delayed cord clamping was in my birth plan. Why wasn’t she on my chest nursing? Immediate skin-to-skin contact was the plan.

Bec explained that my daughter suffered shoulder dystocia and Transient Tachypnea of the Newborn (TTN). She needed immediate medical attention and needed to be monitored in Special Care. I was allowed a quick hold before they took her but I could see her struggling to breathe and I was so scared. I begged them to just take her and help her.

I was heartbroken about not being able to feed my daughter for a few hours but at least she was okay. She responded well to the oxygen they administered, and they'd screened her cord blood. It had plenty of oxygen in it, so this was another good sign.

I birthed  my placenta and the doctors examined me to see if I'd torn or needed stitches. I tore badly with my first and I now know this was likely due to 'forced pushing' rather than breathing my baby down. After breathing my daughter down, as taught in Hypnobirthing, I didn’t need a single stitch and had no pain. I was amazed! 

While the special circumstances (complications) that occurred during and after my daughter’s birth were scary, I don’t believe she, or myself, would have been better off with a C-section. My only regret is not refusing the internal exams. Other than this, I'd not change a thing... ❤

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