Lindsay’s Birth Truth
Better Beings, let me introduce you to a kind-hearted mother that I’ve known since childhood. Her name is Lindsay Olk, wife to Tristan, and mother to Seamus and Ciara. What sticks out to me about Lindsay is her love of words and how eloquently she writes. And when she writes about her experience transitioning to motherhood, well… it’s too important not to share. Here’s her birth truth.
I don’t think I realized when I was young what I was missing. In that, I think more women need to be supported and empowered for their own journeys. I am trying to dedicate myself as a friend to doing just that. When someone I know is pregnant, it is MY JOB to reach out and support. Not to share my advice, or my own story, but to just listen. Because as wonderful and empowering as this journey has been. It’s damn hard. And it’s lonely.
My pregnancy and birth stories are quite opposite from each other. I had one one easy pregnancy and physically difficult birth and one emotionally difficult pregnancy and easy birth.
This is Seamus' story, because he made me a mother.
Seamus was, by most definitions, an easy pregnancy, but I just didn’t feel like it was. Nausea was only here for the first trimester, I was tired and sore and it was deeply uncomfortable but very healthy.
The reason it didn’t feel easy though was because I knew the risk of pregnancy. My mother was a labor and delivery RN for 40 years. She also specialized in perinatal loss. Which means that I know how common it is. And that scared me a lot. I knew the risk of miscarriage. I knew the risk of early labor. I knew the risks of something going wrong. And it was just easier to stay unattached to the baby until he was here. But society makes it really hard to do that. There is an expectation that you must be glowing and thrilled and have a beautiful experience. For me, it was all about the risk of losing something so precious and I didn’t want to celebrate it yet. Also… it was really uncomfortable.
My due date was January 15. Days and days later…. My doctor had me scheduled for an induction on Monday, January 23 at 6:00 AM. This date and time are important because Seamus would not be here until Wednesday, January 25 at 10:00 PM.
My induction started off so well. I have to say I loved the care I got. Everyone was carefully monitoring me, checking in, filling me in on the next steps. I had my mother acting as doula (and to be honest, I don’t remember much of my husband, only of my mom taking deep breaths with me and telling me that I was doing great. Women supporting women!) I started contractions Monday afternoon and they were relatively consistent all through Monday and into Tuesday. During some point, they monitor contractions and how the baby is reacting through a heart monitor, and Seamus’ heartrate began decelerating at the end of contractions. It’s not ideal but it’s not unusual. What they do is give you bag of fluid. I can’t remember why, but what I remember is that I kept receiving them until Seamus was born. (This is important later.)
I started having some very severe nerve pain and opted for an epidural around Tuesday morning. I was dilating normally and fine, made it into active labor, which I think they say is around 6cm (you have to get to 10cm) and then my epidural wore off. You’ll have to forgive me on the next part because it passed by in a blur of pain and epidural-ness but what I know is this --- I received another epidural and another. Overall I had maybe 3 or 4 and it’s also important to note that one of these missed and had to be re-inserted. By Wednesday, I had only made it to 8 cm and had not progressed all day. Wednesday late afternoon comes and my epidural has worn off again and the doctor says that she cannot give me another one and simply asks me what I’d like to do. I just stared at her when my mother chimed in that it was time to get the baby out. Thank God for her. We opted to do c-section. Via surgery, Seamus was born perfectly healthy with no complications. Tristan takes him into recovery and they finish my surgery. This is where my beautiful birth story ends and a nightmare recovery begins.
At this point, there are drugs and pain and drugs and pain. Poor Tristan and I started off our sleepless journey missing 2 days of sleep. We try breastfeeding and this is one of the more difficult parts of my journey. It does not go well. But I want it to.
Doctors of every nature come in and tell me I’m fine and give me directions. Other doctors come in, tell me I’m fine and give different directions. It’s a mess. Different varieties of prescriptions. Different instructions for the baby and for me. Different procedures for the baby. Breastfeeding is hurting and I’m told that I need to triple feed because the baby has lost 9% of his body weight, which is too much. Now triple feeding is feeding once on each breast and then pumping and feeding him some more. I do this all night and it is exhausting. It’s every 20 minutes, takes an hour, every 20 minutes, takes an hour. The next morning comes and a different lactation comes in and asks how I’m doing. By this point, I’m crying and asking how long I need to keep triple feeding. Her response is shock. “Who told you to do that?” Seamus is past his birth weight already (which means he didn’t really need triple feeding in the first place). This lasted my entire recovery in the hospital. As a new mom, this was a terrible and overwhelming experience!
The lactation consultant who told me to triple feed ruined my supply in that I had too much milk for weeks. It was so painful, I couldn’t get him to latch. We got to a point where my baby would cry and I would just cower in the corner, sobbing because I didn’t want him to come near me. At this point, poor Tristan has no idea what to do. We ask everyone we know. I want this to work. I want to breastfeed. And most everyone’s advice, including lactation consultants and my doctors, is to quit. He doesn’t need it. But my question is: why don’t we support women? Why did no one instead say, “Lindsay, you’ve got this. You can do this.” All I heard was, just quit if it’s too hard.
There were other troubles as well. Since I had fluids in my IV for three days, my legs were so swollen that I couldn’t walk, which is an important part to recovering after surgery. But there was nothing I could do. I just had surgery and my legs wouldn’t hold my weight. I needed Tristan to help carry me everywhere, in addition to fully taking care of the baby, which I couldn’t do yet.
In addition, the missed epidural mentioned earlier actually caused spinal fluid to leak giving me a spinal headache which is the worst headache known to man. This all happened after my release from the hospital. I wasn’t given very much medication to cope because a) I wasn’t feeling these effects in the hospital and b) they are very careful these days, which is fine, if I hadn’t of truly needed it. There was no one willing to readjust my medication. We had our newborn check up schedule for two days after our release, by this point I’m a mess. My breasts are swollen with bleeding nipples, my legs are too swollen to carry my weight, and my head is about to split open. But – as far as the doctors were concerned, I was healthy. My scar was healing, the baby was healthy, done deal. We showed up at our newborn check up only to discover that they cancelled the appointment and forgot to tell us. I started sobbing at the front desk. It was horrible. I was at a loss. How is a woman supposed to feel supported and start healing, when at every turn, there is neglect and ignorance? The problems in our healthcare are real and women are suffering. Not everyone’s story is like mine. But I know mine is not alone or the worst.
My care from then on was better mostly because I healed myself. I had my mom there for my mental support and encouragement and an incredible partner in Tristan to take care of Seamus while I did heal. And heal I did. Breastfeed we did (although it took us five stubborn weeks). But we did it for a year and half and I’m damn proud of that journey and my body’s tremendous resilience despite our healthcare system. Women slip through the cracks consistently. Society only wants and expects to hear what a beautiful and transformative journey having a baby is. But there is struggle everywhere you look. Some struggle to get pregnant, some struggle during their pregnancy and some struggle with birth and post partum. This IS a beautiful and transformative journey but the transformation usually comes from the struggle and the beauty from the healing. There should be so much more discussion about the realities of matrescence (especially as I see that spell check doesn’t even recognize that word!)
The power of becoming a mother is powerful and never-ending and unique… and difficult.
