Part XI: Pregnancy after Trauma, 3rd Trimester

There was a decided shift between second and third trimester in my mental and emotional health. I was much more comfortable with the idea of giving birth and mostly just wanted to get it over with already. Physically, well, we had all the joys inherent to getting more and more pregnant.

Since I haven't yet posted my pregnancy pictures on my blog, here is the progression through Simon's pregnancy.

15 weeks

20 weeks--halfway!

26 weeks--my all-time favorite pregnancy picture

30 weeks

37 weeks

40 weeks

And now back on topic.

There were four major things that made the significant positive differences in my preparing for giving birth: therapy, my trauma journal, one I'm not going to write about, and reading. I had quite the stack of books that I regularly referred to, read, and re-read. Many of my journaling prompts were inspired by these books.

Another important step was building my birth team. First and foremost was Chris. He was more involved in this pregnancy than he ever has been before, and he put a lot of effort into understanding what I wanted and needed. He listened to me anytime I needed to talk and he learned enough about birth (and how it related to my traumas) to have his own opinions about how things ought to happen, and he knew the birth plan as well as me. It was the most connected I've ever felt with him while having a baby.

While my therapist was obviously not present for the birth, she was an important part of my preparation, as already noted. I also hired a doula for the first time. We had just a little bit of a rocky start with trying to actually meet up, but once I finally met her, I really liked her. She is relatively new to the field and while I felt like I knew almost as much about birth as her, it was very comforting to know that I would have someone with me who would know what to do and have the clarity of a not-in-labor brain to execute it.

Finally, I considered my mom to be part of my birth team. She was scheduled to fly in two days before my due date. I wasn't sure if she'd be here when the baby was born or if he'd come early, so I wasn't necessarily counting on her being with me at the hospital. I was definitely counting on her, though, for my postpartum help. I wasn't worried nearly at all about my other kids knowing that she would be there to take care of them while I took care of myself and baby.

Team on call, birth plan laid out, all there was to do now was wait for the baby. In my journal is a series of pictures I drew that I believe illustrate the amazing success I had in my preparations. Compare these pictures to what I shared last time.

imagining my labor

the river represents the progression of labor throughout the pictures

 waiting for labor to start

at home, shown by the background (a depiction of the view out my living room window)

kids are there

labor has started, represented by the boat

in the beginning, the kids are still home with me

Chris is on his way

labor in full swing

kids gone

Chris and doula Brandy are supporting me

transition labor/traveling to hospital

the work has greatly intensified now

Chris and Brandy are still supporting me and guiding me to where I need to be

the delivery

completely at the mercy of the natural process

happy to be able to do something

a sign of getting close to the end

baby is almost here

quiet relaxation

baby is here

everything is well

just enjoying each other

This was labor as I imagined it. This is what I wanted. And the fact that I was able to draw these pictures with a reasonable expectation that it would play out this way and that I was willing to put in the work to make it happen is a huge testament to how much I had accomplished since Ben was born.

Granted, we now know that it didn't work out that way.

My Boys

After Megan was born, I really enjoyed being able to refer to her and Audrey as "the girls." Now that I have Ben and Simon, it's actually kind of trippy to refer to them as "the boys." Fun adjustment, though.

It has been noted by many, many people that Simon looks a lot like Ben. I admit to calling Simon Ben more than once while we were in the hospital. Just to prove that everyone who has made the comment is correct and that I am justified in my name slippage, I have compiled photographic evidence that they do, in fact, look the same. Not in chronological order.

First up, the boys (ha) modeling the "I was just born" look.

A facial closeup.

Lounging on the couch.

Sleeping in the bassinet. Still love this bassinet, by the way.

And for my personal favorites, they each model their first non-white t-shirt outfit.

Followed closely by screaming in the car seat. Same car seat, same emotional expression. You'd think they were related or something.

I can tell the difference between them just from their faces, but Chris and kids were correctly identifying them based on clothing and blankets. I suppose I should label them all for your sake, but...I didn't. Anybody want to guess who is who?

Part X: Pregnancy after Trauma, 2nd Trimester

First trimester was characterized by fear of miscarriage and finding the right doctor. Second trimester was characterized by the range of emotional responses to the thought, "Oh, crap, I have to give birth again."

In my past therapy experiences, as I was originally dealing with my traumatic experiences with Ben's birth, I learned that art and some measure of visual expression was helpful for me in figuring out what was actually going on in my head in order to work through it. In light of that knowledge, I bought this journal to use during this pregnancy.

Some pages were cute and fun, like all the pictures of my babies. Bonus points if you can correctly identify everyone on the right.

Other pages, however, were stark illustrations of the fears in my mind and representations of the panic attacks I had on a fairly regular basis for a few months. For your interest's sake and because I think my journal pages look really cool, I'll share three of the major mental battles I went through in the course of my second trimester.

After everything I went through with Ben's and Audrey's births (see the right sidebar for links to those stories), the idea of giving birth was just about the most terrifying thought possible for me. It was almost ok, though, when I thought about the baby that would result. Unless, of course, something horrible happened to the baby.

Within the course of just a few weeks, I had several different friends and acquaintances experience personal trials and tragedies involving their newborn babies. I was pretty darn sure that if I was meant to face something like that, there was no possible way I could get through it. And thus was born this journal page.

That particular event was resolved through much prayer and scripture reassurance, which resulted in a much more comforting journal page--reminders of Who is really in charge and that no matter what happens, we have been sealed in the temple so we will have our family together no matter what.

The single biggest panic attack that I ever had throughout the entire pregnancy came early in March. I don't remember all the details of the day, but I had lined up a babysitter for an appointment that ended up being cancelled for some reason. I kept the babysitter anyway and took myself out to breakfast. Too much thinking during that meal lead to a panic attack revealing a belief that I can't give birth, someone else has to do it for me.

It was the visit to my third and chosen doctor that gave me hope again that I could actually have a baby and not only survive, but do it well.

I am only sharing a fraction of what is in my journal here, so you're missing the progressions through several other fears and problems I faced, as well as decisions I made. One such decision was a very thoroughly investigated decision of home birth versus hospital birth. One trigger to that debate was the lack of trust I had developed for medical staff, illustrated here.

Each of these pictures is accompanied by a quote that was said to me at some point during labor--one picture from Ben's birth, the rest were from Audrey Jane's. They were all individual moments in a bigger picture that served to undermine any comfort and confidence I had in a hospital setting.

In the end, we still chose a hospital birth for various reasons, and it was done very intentionally with eyes wide open. (And because I'm writing this almost two weeks after giving birth, I can report that it was indeed the right decision.)

Considering the kinds of mental battles I was fighting during this pregnancy and the effects they were having on me and my ability to run life as usual, I opted to go back to therapy. It took one failed attempt (a therapist that obviously didn't know anything about birth and told me flat out that I had no control over the situation so get over it now--worst advice ever) before finding a therapist that I liked, and even then it took a session of me saying "Here's everything I don't like about you and here's how I want us to work together differently" before we really clicked. Once we did, though, it was smooth sailing in therapy land. In birth preparation land, it looked something like this.

I followed a fairly consistent pattern, cycling through five stages:

Determination

I can and I will have the birth that I want.

Discouragement

too many obstacles, too much money, not enough information, not enough support, IT'S TOO HARD

Fear

repeat trauma, unhandled abuse, anxiety, failure

Active Avoidance

ANYTHING BUT birth: coloring, quilting, netflix, shopping...but not real life, either

Tentative Exploration

there are options, it is possible, maybe...

I went to therapy almost once a week throughout the second and third trimesters, and thankfully made some seriously enormous progress. More on that in the next post.

Part IX: Pregnancy after Trauma, 1st Trimester

I haven't blogged much about my pregnancy this time around. Part of that was because I wasn't consistently blogging, about anything. Reciprocally, one of the big reasons I wasn't blogging was because I was pregnant. The ironies of life.

The bigger truth of the matter, though, was the effects my past traumas had on being pregnant again. My first and second trimesters in particular were riddled with panic attacks and breakdowns as I dealt with all the events and feelings that triggered moments from my previous birth experiences and all the fears and negativity attached. My intention now is to give a brief glimpse into what those effects were and how I dealt with them along the way, breaking it up between the three trimesters. I want to show my own emotional progression through the pregnancy that ultimately culminated in the birth experience I have worked so hard for--and yet been so afraid of--for the last three years.

And so, I give you the first trimester.

This was the first pregnancy when I tested purely based on timing. I have always had the inkling that I was pregnant long before a test would have shown anything, and I recognized and added up all the signs and symptoms enough that by the time I actually tested, it was a mere formality just to confirm what I already knew for sure. This time, however, I had no idea. I really thought I wasn't pregnant because none of my usual early signs were present. Once I realized I was six days late, though, I figured I ought to test.

It's hard to say what my first reaction was--there was a definite mix of excitement and sheer terror.

The first few weeks were singularly dominated by doubts over whether the pregnancy would last. Between Ben's birth and this pregnancy, I had experienced three miscarriages in July, November and December of 2012 (you can read more about that here). Every day, every time I went to the bathroom, I expected that this pregnancy would be over, too. It was extremely difficult to attach to the idea of a baby with so much negative anticipation floating around.

I did my best to move forward as if everything would be fine. I did some research online and found what seemed like a decent OB/GYN and made an appointment. I had a few qualifications in mind when choosing a doctor. I wanted someone with whom I felt completely comfortable and cared for as a person, not just as a vessel for a baby or just another day on the job. I wanted to feel as thought I was respected and acknowledged as an individual and as a pregnant mother. My second major requirement was finding someone who would support me in my goal of having a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean section).

My first appointment was on January 6, and I was 8 weeks along to the day. It didn't take me long to decide, though, that I would not be returning to this particular doctor. She was nice enough, but there were a lot of little things that bothered me about the visit, like the fact that they wouldn't let Chris come into the room with me. I had brought him along because I wanted his support but they made him stay in the waiting room until we did an ultrasound at the very end. That was dumb. I also never got an overwhelming sense that this doctor was actually any good at what she did. Not that I thought she was a bad doctor, she just didn't inspire great confidence as to her competence.

The upside to this appointment was the ultrasound. It was the first time I actually, genuinely believed that we just might have a baby. It became a real possibility where before it was just a cute idea and a "wouldn't it be nice if" conversation starter. I can't say that I totally stopped worrying about having a miscarriage at that point (that didn't stop until he was born), but I was comforted.

Two hurdles crossed, then. We had passed over the worst of the miscarriage fears (seeing a heartbeat on an ultrasound brings miscarriage statistics down to less than 2%) and I had successfully visited a doctor without any panic attacks. Applause for milestones!

The next big hurdle was finding a different doctor. I had gone in blind the first time, having not asked friends for recommendations because I wasn't ready to announce my pregnancy. Once I had the ultrasound, though, I made the news public and then asked several people at church for names of their favorite OBs.

One doctor came highly, highly recommended. It was the first person who gave a name and had real stories and experiences to back it up, so I made the appointment. I went in and at first was very impressed. He was very professional and right from the start I felt like he was extremely competent and capable at this job. That was a relief, and quite a contrast over the previous doctor I saw. We had a good conversation in his office, which I appreciated (rather than me sitting on a table and him talking down to me).

Despite the good start, there came a moment when I absolutely knew without question that I would not be coming back. We had been going over my medical history and previous pregnancies and births. I said that I had a c-section with my third and his immediate response was "Great, so we'll do a c-section this time, too." I did not at all appreciate how quickly he jumped to a repeat c-section, and that without even asking if that's what I had in mind. The appointment went downhill from there, and ended on a particularly ugly note when I refused to let him examine me after he couldn't give any solid reason why he wanted to run a certain test. I still think he is a good doctor and many people would be very comfortable with him, but he wasn't the right fit for me.

It would take me another month to find a doctor that I really connected and felt comfortable with, but I finally did. My first appointment with him came at 16 weeks, well into my second trimester. It was stressful going to so many different doctors, but it was well worth it in the end to have the right doctor for me and my situation.

Coming soon: The Second Trimester

Newest Addition, at long last

Introducing...

Simon Edward Wampler

born August 20, 2014

8:16 am

9 lbs 15 oz

21 1/2 inches

Birth story coming soon.

40 weeks

I honestly never expected to reach my due date still pregnant. Jane was born on her due date, at 3:27 in the afternoon. Megan was born nine days early, when I was induced because of kidney stones. And Benjamin arrived just one day before his due date. So, I don't have a history of going past my due date, though two of the three times we had extenuating circumstances.

This time around, I've had a million contractions very consistently since as early as 20 weeks. Nothing painful or consistent, but definitely persistent. I was also taking advantage of other labor encouragers, like red raspberry leaf and evening primrose oil capsules. I was hopeful that labor would come sooner rather than later and progress quickly and efficiently.

Of course, if the baby decides to be transverse, then no amount of contractions are actually going to help. Sigh.

With such being the case, that means it's my due date and I'm still pregnant with no reasonable expectation of going into labor on my own anytime soon. We marked the occasion with a picture.

Looking at this picture reminded me of the last pictures I had from my pregnancies with Megan and Ben. All in purple shirts. I think I look bigger this time than I have before...

Day One

It's the first day of school!

Audrey Jane

first grade

Megan Leigh

pre-k

We were all pretty excited this morning. It's basically the only day that I really hoped to not have a baby...at least not first thing in the morning. 39 weeks today.

Instead of riding the bus this morning, we drove them to school, just to make sure they each got to their class ok. We were early and had to wait outside for a bit. The anticipation was a bit intense, though. They were both excited (even if it doesn't quite show up in these pictures.)

Ben wasn't entirely sure what to do with himself with no other kids around all day, but it was a good day nonetheless. The bus ended up being about 25 minutes later than we were told, but I think that was just the business of the first day, making sure each kid got on and off the right bus. While we were waiting, I took a picture of Ben.

Then he wanted to take a picture of us. Nice aim, kid.

Hooray for school starting!