1 out of 1000. I was 1 out of 1000. We were 1 out of 1000… When they give you the statistics that the chance of something going wrong is extremely low, there is always the one. The one that becomes the statistic. There is one person, one woman, one baby, one birth that becomes that one. And all of the sudden that one becomes much more important. Much more real. Especially when it deals with birth trauma.
The umbilical cord prolapsed. An alpha c-section was called. I was rushed to the OR for an emergency c-section…
It was one of the most traumatic things I’ve ever experienced. I am also one in three. Did you know that it’s estimated about one in three women experience some type of birth trauma?
But Easton’s birth story is much more than just that moment. I learned so much about myself, my relationship with my spouse, how to cope with birth trauma, and just how much I love my little boy.
Check-In
We checked in just after 7:30am on Friday, July 24, 2020 for a planned induction. A day shy of his due date. Blade was in the middle of his OBGYN clinical rotation, so we felt like it was best to plan for an induction since we knew he had that weekend off and would be able to easily move his Friday schedule around. Plus, we were both excited because we had planned with my OB to have Blade deliver or catch Easton.
Checked and screened for COVID at the doors, we wore masks up to the 3rd floor of the Mayo Methodist Hospital. We were shown to our room. IVs were placed and we got set up as they monitored Easton’s heart rate for the first 30 minutes.
Shortly after they placed the IV, I had a vaso-vagal episode. (An uncontrolled drop in blood pressure that makes you really hypotensive.) They laid me back. Cooled me off. And started a bag of fluids. Soon I came back around and felt much better.
I was dilated to a three and about 30 percent effaced and -2 station. They then started the Pitocin around 9am. They slowly upped it every 30 minutes.
In the meantime, while I waited for contractions to pick up and become more intense and consistent, we laughed, talked with the nurses/OBs, watched Netflix, took pictures, sent family and friends Marco Polos and texts, Blade studied, and I relaxed. I also had to make frequent trips to the bathroom since I was going through so much fluids via IV.
Blade and I also had a serious discussion of what we would want to do in the case something seriously went wrong for me or Easton. I’m so glad we discussed beforehand my wishes so that Blade could be my mouthpiece if I couldn’t make decisions for myself. We even discussed what I’d want in the case of an emergency c-section.
Little did I know that this would soon become my reality.
Tender Mercies
Our OB team consisted of some amazing physicians and nurses, all of whom Blade had previously worked with the past two weeks while he was on labor and delivery day and nights. This was tender mercy #1.
By 2pm we had talked with our team about options. I was having consistent, hard contractions. But they weren’t super painful. Easton was handling everything beautifully. He was excelling exactly when he needed to in response to the contractions. But they were one more round away of increasing the pitocin before they wouldn’t up it any more.
To get things moving and progressing a bit more we talked about breaking my water. This would allow Easton’s head to engage more with the cervix and progress labor along by helping thin it out. This would also require them to check me anyway to see how far along I was and the position of Easton’s head. It is quite painful for me everytime they check because of the tilt of my uterus and cervix.
So, we talked and since I was already planning on getting an epidural down the road, we felt it best to do the epidural before getting checked and potentially breaking the water. Our assigned resident actually suggested this. Blade had worked with her while on labor and delivery. This was tender mercy #2. Had I not received the epidural, I would have had to be intubated and put under general anesthesia for the c-section.
Between 2:30-3pm the anesthesia team came in and set me up with the epidural. It wasn’t as smooth as my first one with Hazel. They had me sit on the bed and cross my legs as they worked. It was super uncomfortable. It didn’t get placed quite right, but enough to do the job. I could feel them moving it around as they adjusted it. They wanted me to be able to move my legs and feel enough so I could push when the time came.
With Hazel, my feeling was completely knocked out waist down and I couldn’t move or tell when I was being touched. So it was a bit different. I also was in the middle of painful contractions so I probably wasn’t quite aware of what they were doing while placing the epidural. With Easton, I could feel everything as they moved it around in my spine. It makes my stomach turn thinking about it.
They checked to see what I could feel by brushing cold down my side and legs. I could still feel the cold in every spot. I think I was supposed to not be able to feel the cold at some point… When they gave me a dose of the drug, it felt like cold water running down my spine. It was such a strange feeling!
Breaking the Water
After being monitored a bit, our resident came in and discussed the pros and cons of breaking my water. She explained that while checking me, she would slide a small hook up between her fingers and break the sack. I don’t remember a lot of what she said, but I do remember the one statistic of the worst case scenario.
In one out of 1000, the cord would prolapse. This means that when breaking the water, the umbilical cord would come through the cervix. If the baby’s head engages with the cervix, it would essentially cut off all oxygen supply to the baby. This would result in an immediate emergency c-section. The baby could die within minutes if not taken care of immediately.
They said they didn’t anticipate this being the case. By all standards, I was the perfect candidate for breaking my water. Plus, the resident would assess where his head was and how far I was dilated when she checked me before doing so. But turns out I was one out of 1000.
To be honest, I wasn’t super comfortable with the idea of breaking my water. I don’t know why. I just didn’t like the idea of having to do it. Maybe it was the fact they’d have to intervene physically? I don’t know. I think it may have been the fear of the pain I’d experience. Pain coming from someone else inflicting it on me versus pain coming from my body which I feel like I am in more control of, even though I know I’m not really in control of contractions, at least it’s from my body.
I also didn’t want to be sitting forever with little and slow progression. I only had one more round of upping the pitocin before they would stop increasing it and let it do its thing.
So she checked me. It wasn’t super painful as I had the epidural. But it got quite uncomfortable when she had to go up pretty high to see how much I had dilated. I had only progressed to a 4. She could feel his head and it was in a good position. They asked if we wanted to move forward with breaking my water. I looked at Blade and he nodded. We both agreed.
I could actually feel the small hook go up my right side. She said I would feel like I peed myself. I felt a warm gush come out. Later I would learn that my water was a different color. They suspected that my placenta had already started to abrupt from my uterus. This was tender mercy #3. I likely would have had to have a c-section down the road and the abruption could have affected both Easton and I drastically.
Cord Prolapsed
Then there was a pause.
I heard the resident say, “Hold on. I do feel a cord. The cord has prolapsed. Hit the button. Call an alpha. Kristi, I am so sorry, we are going to need to do an emergency c-section.”
I heard the resident say, “Hold on. I do feel a cord. The cord has prolapsed. Hit the button. Call an alpha. Kristi, I am so sorry, we are going to need to do an emergency c-section.”
I immediately started to cry.
About 15 or so nurses came bursting through the door and performing their various roles to get us moved and prepped for surgery in the OR.
The next few hours were a blur.
Everything was completely fine. Were we not just laughing and taking pictures? I was progressing well. We were going to have a baby later that day. Not right now. And then within seconds…everything fell apart. How could this be happening?
There was nothing I or the doctors could have done. This could have happened spontaneously if my water had broken at home. How grateful I was that wasn’t the case.
All I remember was looking up and reaching for my husband’s face and crying that I didn’t want to do this. But even as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I didn’t have an option. I knew that I would do anything to get Easton here safely. Of course I would go through with the c-section. I had already made that decision. I would do what needed to be done so he was healthy and safe.
But those words still came out. They came out of fear. This was not something I had prepared for. This was not part of the plan.
It wasn’t that I had my heart set on having a vaginal birth. A cesarean was just completely unforeseen. I had no preconceived notions of c-sections not being “real births”. I knew I’d be totally fine having a c-section if it was needed. The biggest thing to me is that the baby gets here in the best way to ensure his or her safety and health.
So when I say it was not part of the plan, I say it because it was completely and irrevocably unexpected. I never imagined I’d have a c-section, let alone an emergency one. With my first I had a vaginal birth before so this second one should go similarly, right?
I hadn’t prepared for the unexpected. I didn’t have time to process it. To mentally handle the fact that they would be cutting into me. That they would be essentially ripping apart my abs, pulling out my insides, cutting open my uterus, and pulling and pushing out my beautiful baby boy.
Emergency C-Sections
Gratefully I had my husband. Blade calmly held my hand and my face and said, “Kristi they are going to do an emergency c-section. You’re going to be ok. You’re in good hands.” His ability to stay calm and level-headed as a medical student kicked in. This was tender mercy #4.
Because Blade had worked with the majority of those on our team so closely the past two weeks, he had seen these amazing medical professionals in action and even run various emergency c-sections, including two alphas. This allowed him to be present and calm for me.
There is a scale when it comes to c-sections and emergent c-sections.
- A charlie is a planned c-section.
- A beta means they have 40 minutes or so to get the baby out. A normal scrub can be done. These are unplanned, planned c-sections.
- An alpha means they have 10 minutes to get the baby out. They have a hemorrhage team, NICU team, and others there because baby and/or mom could die.
Marie, my sweet nurse, leaned over and held my other hand. Blade needed to go get gowned up so he could come into the OR. She assured me everything was going to be fine and she would not leave my side.
Blade leaned over me. Kissed my forehead and told me he loved me and I’d be ok. I squeezed his hand wishing he wouldn’t let go.
Hysterical cries and random screams continued to escape my lips as they began to wheel me out of my room.
I remember placing my hand over my mouth. I was shocked at the sound coming out of it. Normally, I am such a calm, level-headed person. But I had completely lost it. These sobs shook me.
The team of nurses and doctors began to quickly rush me down the hall, through double doors and into the OR. I remember looking up as the lights flashed past me and seeing masked faces with scrub caps on surround my bed as they pushed it toward the OR. My eyesight was blurry as tears streamed down my face. Was this seriously happening??
I heard snippets of the commentary around me.
“Kristi you’re going to be ok.”
“We’ve got you. We’ve got your baby.”
“I’m not going to leave you. I’m going to be here the whole time.”
Getting Prepped for Surgery
We burst into the brightly lit OR and my bed was aligned next to another. Someone told me to wrap my arms around their neck. I felt about five or six others had hands on my body as they counted, “1, 2, 3, lift!”
A drape was put up across my front so I could no longer see my belly. A few of the anesthesiologists I had met earlier hovered around me hooking my IV up and delivering the medication I needed to knock out complete feeling. Marie had not left me and continued to hold my hand and stroke my hair, trying to calm my cries.
The anesthesiologist leaned in close to my face and asked, “Kristi, we need to know, can you feel this? Is it sharp?”
It was the first time I was able to stop and focus on what was being asked. I felt pinches going up and down on both sides of my stomach.
“Yes! It’s sharp!”
She leaned over me again. I remember looking into her bright blue eyes and telling her I didn’t want to feel it. I was terrified of being able to feel them cut into me because I had still been able to feel the cold after they had placed the epidural. Plus, I had heard some horror stories of c-sections where the mom hadn’t fully been numbed before they started to cut.
She confidently told me, “My job is to make sure you don’t feel anything. I’ve got you!”
They continued to ask me questions and test my feeling until they were satisfied with my answers and how my body was reacting to the drugs.
I was having a panic attack. I couldn’t breathe. I was losing it.
Someone put a mask over my nose and mouth.
“This is just oxygen to help you breathe Kristi.”
“Where’s Blade?!” I asked. Marie told me he was on his way and he was getting changed.
The anesthesiologist leaned over again. “Kristi, I can give you some medication to help calm you down. It may make things harder to remember, but you may not want to remember some of this. Would you like that?”
I nodded.
Meanwhile, on his way to the OR, Blade quickly called my mom and explained in two sentences what happened.
“We’re going into an emergency c-section. The cord prolapsed. I’ll keep you posted, I’ve got to go.” He relayed the same message to his mom.
I later learned that right then my mom dropped to her knees with my daughter and said a prayer. She passed on the information to my family and asked for prayers in my behalf. How grateful I am for all those prayers and angels that surrounded me.
9 Minutes
“5 blade”
I tried to distract myself. I knew they had begun to cut.
“You’re going to be feeling a lot of tugging and pressure.”
Big tugs shifted my core back and forth. An image of what it might feel like to have your body ripped in half flashed before my mind. One of my anesthesiologists and my nurse held my hands as I moaned and held my breath. It was the weirdest feeling I’ve ever experienced. I could feel my body shifting as the surgeons tugged and pulled apart my abs, but it wasn’t painful. From hearing my husband’s stories, I knew that they were likely tearing through my linea alba to separate my abdominal wall to get to the uterus.
At some point, someone had removed my glasses so I was partially blind except for what was about three feet in front of me. Everything else was blurry.
Faces moved in and out of my vision. Soon Blade appeared and grabbed my hand. “I’m here!”
Two seconds later, we heard his cry. Easton was born. Relief flooded my body. It was the first time I felt some peace. Easton was whisked away to get checked out to make sure he was ok. .
I started to cry again. Partially from the reassurance that he was here and partially from the overwhelm of trying to process what exactly just happened in the last 9 minutes.
From the moment my water broke at 3:29pm to the moment Easton was out and crying at 3:38pm was 9 minutes.
9 minutes of complete terror, fear, overwhelm, panic, and relief.
The Moment We Met
Easton checked out beautifully. He scored a 9 after 1 minute and scored another 9 after 5 minutes on his APGAR. One of the nurses even said he was the pinkest newborn she has seen! You would never have known that he was in danger and under stress.
This was a large part in thanks to our amazing resident and how quickly she acted. I later learned that she got on the bed with me and curled up in the fetal position between my legs. She had found Easton’s head with her hand and pushed him up high into my uterus so as to stop any harm from coming to him. In fact, when the surgeon reached in to find Easton’s head to direct him out, she said, “I found his head.”
Our resident responded, “That’s my wrist.” She had pushed her whole hand and wrist through my cervix to keep Easton high up and safe. She was then able to guide Easton’s head to the surgeon’s hand.
Soon enough they brought Easton over and laid him on my chest so I could officially meet him. As soon as I laid eyes on him, I said, “Hi sweet boy! Oh he is beautiful! Blade, he is perfect!”
“Hi sweet boy! Oh he is beautiful! Blade, he is perfect!”
Everything I just went through was worth it. He was perfection.
This little boy just wanted to make a grand entrance. Blade and I sat and stared at him for the next while. He was finally here. Our family of four had become a family of five. I was a mom again.
So, I savored snuggling this piece of heaven as I stared at his curious eyes that peered up at me. I found that cuddling this sweet boy would be the best therapy to help me in my recovery.
Time Blurred
Shortly after I asked them to take him because my arms were going even more numb then they already were. I didn’t want to lose my grip on him. The numbness continued to creep up my chest and before I realized it, I was hyperventilating. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like I was drowning and about to go under.
They were monitoring my oxygen level and everything was just fine. But because of the drugs, I couldn’t feel myself breathe. So essentially, my brain told my body that I couldn’t breathe. They put my hand on my chest to help me feel my chest rise, but because my arms and hands were numb, that didn’t help.
So they put the oxygen mask on me and gave me more antianxiety medication to help.
Meanwhile, the physicians were still trying to stop the bleeding. I was hemorrhaging. I lost over 1000 mls. Blade said they were one drug away before needing to do surgical intervention to stop the bleeding. Gratefully after uterine massage and several drugs later, they got it under wraps.
Time blurred and what happened next was fuzzy.
While in the OR as they finished sewing me up, I breastfeed Easton for the first time. I don’t remember it very well. It’s just a snippet of memory. Like when you are trying to remember what you dreamt about the night before, but you can only remember a small snapshot. Like a still frame of that moment.
Then suddenly we were back in our room and I was shaking uncontrollably. The drugs were wearing off. They piled warm blankets on me to help. I remember holding Easton again briefly. All I wanted to do was drink something. I was so thirsty.
Then the nausea set in.
I threw up everything I drank. By the time they were ready to move us to the maternity ward, it was around 8pm. Moving down the hall while lying in the bed brought on another round of nausea. I threw up again while in transit. Throwing up was so painful. I felt like my stomach was going to burst.
Birth Trauma
By the time we were settled and people stopped coming in and out of our room, it was after 11pm. Sleep was broken and restless. I woke up shortly after 1am, heart racing and beads of sweat dripping down my back. It was a nightmare.
I was being rushed down the hall to the OR all over again. It felt so real. I could hear my cries. I felt the flood of fear again. The announcement that the cord had prolapsed and the alpha being called. I kept reliving each moment.
Soon tears started to streak down my face. I couldn’t hold it in as the sobs racked my body.
Blade heard my sniffles, rolled off his bed, and grabbed my hand. He just let me cry. He told me we’d get through this and challenged me to find one happy thing to focus on when I felt overwhelmed by it all. To say out loud: we are both here, we are both safe. I didn’t get much sleep the rest of the night as vivid images of the emergency c-section played over and over again in my mind.
Recovery from Trauma
The first time I got up and moved was excruciating. My whole body hurt from the trauma, not just the c-section. Oh, and not to mention the constipation. No one tells you about that or how painful it is! I made the goal of getting up and moving more each day. I walked the halls the first time two days post-surgery.
I couldn’t wait to get a shower. I needed to wash everything away.
Blade helped me shower because I could hardly move. I’ve never felt so loved and so much love for someone in that moment. It really showed me the kind of man I married…
I was gross and smelly. I was emotionally and physically drained. My body felt broken. But Blade tenderly washed my hair and basically scrubbed me down head to toe, no joke. He gingerly washed my incision with a cloth and antiseptic. Then he helped me climb out of the tub, dry off, and get dressed in some fresh clean clothes. He helped me wash away part of the trauma I experienced.
I grew closer and felt more love for him through those four days in the hospital than I have in almost 6 years of marriage. That’s the kind of love and concern for another’s wellbeing that makes a marriage successful. That’s the kind of man I married. I am forever grateful for him.
I was released on my birthday, but before leaving, my care team arranged it for me to be wheeled through the floor and hall I was rushed down. I felt that being able to see it all again may help me process it because everything happened so quickly. So I sat in the wheelchair holding my sweet baby boy as they showed me my room, the hallway, and the doors to the OR.
I was also able to speak with many of the medical professionals on my team including the resident who saved Easton and my amazing nurse who actually came and found me after one of her shifts. I felt so loved and I am eternally grateful for my care team who worked so seamlessly and quickly to save me and Easton.
Looking Back Today
It’s been six months. What I had experienced was…well…traumatic. I had many signs of PTSD. Nightmares, flashbacks, difficulty sleeping, irritability, hypervigilance, and anxiety. It’s estimated that about nine percent of women experience PTSD after child birth. Over the months to follow, I met with a therapist, stayed in touch with my physician, and worked through the birth trauma. I also continued to take Zoloft.
Writing down my story has been a huge contributing factor to being able to heal from it. As I have written and shared my story with friends and family, I’ve found that it gives the birth trauma less power over me. The nightmares and reliving it over and over again has stopped and I’m finding healing as I’ve been able to physically, mentally, and emotionally process it.
It has also been a way of connecting with countless women. So many women have experienced birth trauma and do not get to or do not choose to talk about it. Your birth story is “supposed” to be something beautiful, and when that isn’t a reality, well, there’s a lot of mixed emotions. Over time, I have found beauty in the trauma. The birth trauma I experienced has made me a stronger, more compassionate woman and mama.
Over time, I have found beauty in the trauma. The birth trauma I experienced has made me a stronger, more compassionate woman and mama.
I am proud of my body. I am amazed at its ability to heal. It did not fail me. It grew this sweet boy for nine months and then I did what I needed to do to bring him into the world safely and healthy. I am proud of my c-section scar. Yes, it’s a sign of my birth trauma, but I have come to love it. It is a constant reminder of the sweet boy I now have in my arms, what I did to get him here, and the tender mercies of the Lord all along the way to ensure we both were safe.
Plus, you can bet I’ll show him my scar when he’s being a stinker as a teenager!
How grateful I am for my sweet Easton. I never thought I’d love being a boy mom. In fact, it kinda intimidated me. But this guy is proving me wrong. He has me wrapped around his little finger and has filled a hole in my life I didn’t know I had.
So, yes, I was one out of 1,000. One out of three. One of the nine percent. But I am also a warrior and a strong mama.
Love you my sweet little E.
More on The Med School Wife
So beautiful Kristi! Thank you for sharing. It strengthens me.
Thank you for the love and sweet message! <3
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