Vera's Birth Story

The post below is a bit more personal than usual. I have been thinking about it for awhile and wanted to share. I hope that I can continue to be honest about things going on in my life. Vera was born way back (now!) in December, but I am still processing her birth.

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To prepare for Vera’s arrival, Grant and I took Bradley Birthing Method childbirth classes. These classes are pretty intense – 12 weeks of one evening a week with both of us attending. We went from about 7:30-10PM on Tuesday nights. The class is about husband-coached childbirth and promotes drug-free natural labor. I don’t really know why I signed up except that I had a couple friends who had done it and recommended it. I guess I was just interested! All that to say, I was invested in how she arrived. I cared about how she came into this world and wanted what is best for her. I hoped to have no medical interventions in our childbirth and to be able to bond with her immediately after birth.

When Vera arrived, by a necessary emergency c-section, my world was rocked. Her birth really scared me. It makes me sad to think about. I was disappointed. I was hurt. I was overwhelmed. Nothing I wanted to feel about my daughter’s birth. Looking back, people say “just be glad she is healthy” or “doesn’t seeing her make it all worth it?”. And my answer is yes, but…

I did accomplish some of what I wanted. I had minor contractions for almost 24 hours, and at 3 AM on Vera’s due date (yes, I am one of 5% who actually have their baby on the due date!), my water broke. Due to our classes, we felt it was best to remain at home and work through the contractions as long as there were no negative signs for the baby. My contractions were intense, but I worked through them with Grant’s help. Around 7 AM our doula came and by 9 AM we were on our way to the hospital. When we got there, after a minor scare of a traffic jam due to a car accident on our way, I was checked in. Unfortunately, little miss Vera had pooped in utero– called meconium – a lot, which is a sign of distress. The nurse checked me and all the work was worth it - I was completely dilated. But then she couldn’t find Vera’s heart rate with the external monitor. Things went downhill from there. My memories at this point turn into trauma/survival-mode memories. I have no visual memories, just auditory.

The doctor came and did an internal monitor. Vera’s heart rate was 65. I quickly scanned my brain and calmed myself when I realized 65 meant she was alive. (I was afraid what would happen if she wasn’t.) They put oxygen on me. My doula told me to breathe deeply; it would help the baby. The doctor requested an IV and the nurse(s) couldn’t get one in. The doctor was obviously concerned. They said “c-section”…getting wheeled out…no IV yet…I asked someone to touch me…they gave Grant clothes to change into…then they decided that I would be getting anesthesia, so Grant would not be coming in…in the OR…they get an IV in…the anesthesiologist talks to me…I go to sleep…I wake up in a recovery room…I quietly (I assume) say “Help, Help”, as I can see a nurse out the door at the nurses’ station…finally she comes, and then shortly after my parents come in…Vera is alive and well, and Grant is with her in the NICU.

Vera's first picture, taken by my mom.
She is in the NICU under an oxygen hood.

Another first picture of Vera. I like this one because her hand looks very fresh!  Apparently my mom took these photos and Vera kind of reacted to the flash! Oops! 

I spent a few hours in recovery. My parents luckily came right to the hospital after Grant had called to tell them we were on our way. They sat with him while I was in surgery. They got to meet Vera and took her first picture. They held my hands while I woke up. I was very sweet when I was in recovery. Grant reminds me that I kept telling everyone in my family I loved them. I got to meet Vera on my way to my room on my bed. I was happy to see her.

So proud.

My first time meeting Vera. Obviously not the best photo, but an important one. On my bed I've got a rainbow blanket and a burp rag... we were able to leave the burp rag for her so she had something special from us! 

My first time holding my sweet baby girl! I think it was about 30 hours after her birth.

I have a physical scar on my belly. It is smaller than I expected. It is bright purple/red. The doctor said it will fade over time. I looked up the definition of a scar. “A mark left by a healed wound.” I liked that the word “healed” was included. Physically, my scar is healed and will continue to heal. Mentally, though, I also have a scar. It is larger than I expected. Again, I suppose, it will fade over time. Vera’s birth will always be marked with sadness, what-if, and disappointment. Yet I know God’s plan was for it to happen just as it happened. I know God orchestrated her birth for my good. Healing my mental scar is just hard, though.

Vera’s birth experience and the losses that I felt because of it have transformed into me realizing that my identity HAS to be in Christ. I was disappointed, sad, and scared around different parts of her birth. I had built up in my mind what I hoped her birth would be. And when it wasn’t, I was really out of sorts. I realize now I was sad about things that don’t matter. I wanted to feel my baby be born. I wanted to see her get weighed. I wanted to bond with her immediately after birth. I wanted her to room-in with me at the hospital, and on and on…

Had I remembered then that my identity is in CHRIST, I believe I would have been able to adjust better when things didn’t go as planned. I would have been able to ask for support from a Christ-centered perspective when I wasn’t fully able to process things for myself. I thought all those things mattered. I thought having the perfect birth would lead to a perfect life. What I realize now is that GOD had a bigger plan for me. He didn’t want me to think I was in control of my life. He wanted to remind me that he is in control of my life. He knows what is best for me. He knew I needed to go to the hospital when I did. He is the reason the doctor was there when I got to the hospital. He is the reason Vera was still alive and then was healthy when she was born. He is the reason I was able to get through the first week of her life. He loves me and cares for me. He wants what is best for me. He wants me to trust him. When I do, I realize that things like an emergency c-section are for my good. And then I can move on. I get freedom from my wounds.