My precious girls. I love each of them
beyond words to describe. It seems like just yesterday they were this little and now they're all running around playing together.
My twins are not that far from two and I've
never written about their births. I could tell you it's because life
has been beyond crazy—which is true- but, if I were being
completely honest it's also because deep down inside my heart, there
is a part of me that is still processing all that happened that day.
It wasn't until tonight, when I was
looking through old pictures of Brian's and I came across this
picture that I didn't know he took and realized, it's time. I'm
ready. I'm ready to share what that day was like.
Every birth, no matter how it happens,
is transformative. For me, what I realized the day that the twins
were born was that, no matter how much I lie to myself sometimes...
I am not superwoman.
While it looks silly on paper, I
realize, for me, this acknowledgement is huge. Granted, in some ways
I will always defend that every mother and woman who is
striving to do what's right, is, in some way, superwoman. But, we are
all of us, broken and dependent on each other as well. We can't
survive outside of our communities, our families (chosen or blood)
and our chosen society (for all its ills). As humans, we are, by necessity,
creatures of dependence.
I can tell you honestly, that if it
weren't for the help and support from our community Brian and I
received after the twins were born, I don't think we would have made
it. I don't know that our marriage would have made it. Those first
few months were brutal. I am forever grateful to my tribe. Both near,
far, virtual and in-person. Without your support, I do not know where
I would be.
But, as I said, this is my time to
finally put into words my experience with giving birth to my twins.
When my eldest was born I felt on top of the world, like I could take
on anything, my good friend Diana even said that after I pushed
Athena out I looked at her and said “This is great! You've got to
Well, let's just say that I wasn't
anywhere ready to say that after my day of giving birth to my twins.
In some ways, when I reflect on their
births I have to silence that voice that tells me “you're a failure
because you didn't carry them to full term, didn't deliver both of
them vaginally, had to have a cesarean, and because you and Helen
might not be here without the help of medical intervention”... and
myriad other things that horrid voice tries to tell me.
I think part of the reason why I
struggle with these feelings of guilt and failure is because before
giving birth the first time through with Athena I read so much to
prepare myself for a natural, unmedicated birth. I felt that, despite
all odds, that was possible for every woman. Even though I could
articulate to myself that I knew logically that wasn't the case,
somewhere, deep down, I felt that.
So, when I had to have a cesarean I wasn't prepared. I wasn't prepared mentally, physically,
but most importantly I wasn't prepared emotionally for what the
aftermath of coming to terms with that would look like.
I think there is so much of value in
the natural birthing community. There are so many strong advocates
for women, for babies, for letting go of unnecessary medication
interventions, for doing away with awful medical practices. But, I
think sometimes, what gets lost in wanting to get rid of unnecessary
cesarean sections is the recognition, that despite everyone doing
everything they can, sometimes, giving birth “naturally”, is not
always the safe option.
This is in no way, either, a critique
of my midwife. I love and adore her. I would recommend her to anyone.
And, in fact, I feel like she did a good job preparing me for
whatever my birth would look like. It was my own self I had to face,
my own self as an enemy I had to stand against. That voice inside my
head telling me I what I wasn't worth, or that I somehow gave in.
It's humbling to recognize that the
unnatural scar across your abdomen forever marks you as someone who
is lucky to be alive. A cesarean is a major surgery and that is
intense trauma that the body experiences no matter the circumstances,
no matter the incredible support. It's humbling to lie on my bed, rub
my scar, and realize, that if it weren't for that mark on my body
which will forever be there no matter how much frankincense oil I
apply to it, means that I am here and alive to care for my three,
Sometimes, a natural birth, just isn’t
Sometimes, a natural birth, isn’t a
That's what I tell myself. And, despite
all the voices in my head telling me, but you could have done this,
or she could have done this, or they could have done XYZ
differently... I know that this is true.
So, what happened that day? As best as
possible I'll start at the beginning....
June 2, 2015
I felt huge. I didn't feel like I
looked huge. But, I felt huge. I hadn't felt that before. I remember
feeling this intense pressure on my pelvic floor (probably
Cassandra's head) that made it difficult to walk. I woke up, Brian
was at work and I was with Athena at home.
My due date was still a month away.
It was the beginning of the week I was
planning on stocking our freezer with all those awesome freezer meals
I'd pinned. But, I didn't feel like doing anything. I just wanted to
sit on the couch. So that's what I did. I turned the Ipad on for
Athena and sat on the couch. And started to feel like my period was
coming. It was that same achey, icky feeling I get right before
bleeding. I remember thinking, this probably is something I should
tell my midwife about. So I got off the couch and called her and left
a voicemail. She called me right back which I felt was a sign that
something was about to happen. She sounded very focused on the phone.
I'm pretty sure she recognized long before I did what was happening.
Well, the achy crampy feeling soon
turned into contractions. I called Brian and told him I think he
needed to come home. I called my midwife again and told her I was
feeling contractions and she told me to drive into town so she could
give me an exam and see what was going on. I think she strongly
suspected I was in labor, but couldn't confirm over the phone.
When Brian came home, I remember
telling him “I can't do this, I'm not ready” and he sat down next
to me, put his hand on my chin gently and said, “Yes, you can do
this, you are doing this, whatever happens it's going to be fine.”
(For the record, that's a really good man I have.)
So Brian, Athena and I got into the
car. I remember as we we're driving into town Brian asked me something like “Is this pre-labor?”
and I said “No, this is labor”. I recognized it then. It's weird
revisiting such an intense state you've experienced before. That
first time giving birth there is nothing to compare it to, but when
you experience it a second time, it's almost an “Oh yes... there
you are... I remember you... why did I think this was a good idea to
do again? (?!)”
When we got to my parents house (where
originally... two weeks later... we had planned to give birth because
it was in town closer to a hospital than our country abode.) I quickly
said hello to my parents but all I wanted to do was run into the
bathroom and sit under a hot shower. I remember I was naked and
slowly moaning on the bathtub floor when my midwife came in and said
very slowly “Hi Jackie... what are you doing?” Maybe she didn't
know I was in labor over the phone. I think we had both hoped it
wasn't the real thing. But we both knew. It was. I think I muttered
something like “Giving birth” to her question.
She called Brian in because this meant
we needed to talk. This was too early, not even legal to give birth
at home. She would be outside protocol. And unless we insisted on
staying home (she couldn't force us) she said we needed to go to the
hospital. I wasn't even 35 weeks yet. (I think I was 34 weeks and 6
Honestly, it's a bit of a blur after
this. I remember getting out of the shower carefully but still
feeling intense contractions. I knew there was no way I was putting
on clothes. And, in my mind, though I didn't tell anyone else, there
was no way I was going to the hospital. I didn't want to go to the
I remember when my midwife saw how
intensely I was feeling the contractions she wanted to see how
dilated my cervix was. So I laid down on the bed and she announced
that it wasn't even a 2 yet. It had only been probably an hour since
the first time I had called her. To me, at this point, labor felt
like it was going fast, but if my cervix was at a 2 only, I thought,
maybe something is wrong. Maybe I do need to go to the hospital. I,
of course, wanted above all, for my babies to be safe.
I remember I stood up hoping to get the
courage to go to the hospital. And then, as Brian loves to tell
everyone, I interrupted all conversation between my midwife, Brian
and myself and announced very loudly “I NEED TO POOP!” and
waddled over to the toilet. Where, a mere few minutes later, amidst
my best Ariel-on-a-rock singing impression (I sing very loudly when
I'm in labor), Cassandra was born. Into the toilet. Thankfully, my
midwife had figured out quickly enough what was happening and
Cassandra only briefly touched her porcelain welcoming dish.
And that was it. How I went from not
even 2 centimeters to my baby girl being born in only a few minutes, I
have no idea. It was so fast that I barely even knew what was
happening. And my midwife barely even knew.
Now, when I say that was it, obviously,
it wasn't. I had another baby inside me. But I felt amazing! I
cuddled with Cassandra a bit, and then my midwives handed her to
Brian who held her for a while and then handed her to grandma. But, I was hungry.
So, I walked into my parents kitchen to get
something to eat.
All I felt was lighter. And super high
on oxytocin. I was chatting with my friend Diana,
with my mom, and eating snacks. Just with a placenta cord hanging
between my legs. Ya know, normal every day affair...
In hindsight, I realize how freaked out
my midwife must have been. She was trying not to panic me but she
ushered me back into the room and wanted to hear a heart beat on
Helen. But she couldn't hear her heartbeat anywhere. This was the
first time I had ever seen my midwife truly concerned. I remember
everything going into a bit of a blur.
Someone needed to call an ambulance.
I heard my midwife say that, but it
didn't make sense to me. I didn't understand, I felt fine, everything
seemed fine. I felt great, even. I wasn't feeling concerned. I knew
Helen was fine inside me still. Or, at least, I thought I knew. But,
when my midwife started to seem so concerned I realized that maybe
there was a part to this that I wasn't understanding.
Helen wasn't only breach. She was
sideways. The way she was positioned it was impossible for her to
come out. So, after finally getting a normal heartbeat reading from
Helen, and calling off the ambulance, my midwife suggested we
transfer to the hospital in her car. I told her I didn't really want
to do that. She told me she couldn't force me, but that the only
thing she could do would be to try to turn Helen. One way or another.
If she could just get one end or another to come out, she would be
willing to give it a try.
I've never experienced pain like that
before in my life.
If you've ever experienced labor pains,
you know how intense and unbearable they can feel. Well, imagine
someone pushing knives on either side of your belly when you're
already experiencing the greatest pain you've ever experienced in
your life. But, I didn't want to go to the hospital.
So I allowed the pain to continue.
My midwife tried and tried to turn
Helen. Her assistant tried and tried to turn Helen. And I experienced
a level of pain I didn't know was possible. Over and over again. I
didn't want to go to the hospital.
But, Helen wouldn't budge. They'd get
her down and as soon as their hands came off she would--- bloop-- go
right back to her cozy transverse position-- lying right across my
belly. It wasn't until after they were both born that my midwife
explained that probably what had happened is that Cassandra's
placenta prevented Helen from turning-- that Cassandra's placenta
made it so that Helen actually could not move.
So, there was no other option. We had
to transfer to the hospital.
It wasn't safe to stay at home. I knew
that much. My midwife was insisting that we go to the hospital. I
still didn't understand, I felt fine. It wasn't until after that my
midwife explained that quite possibly what would have happened if we
had stayed at my parents is that Cassandra's placenta would have
started to detach and because Helen was still inside, my cervix would
not have been able to cramp down. Meaning, I could have potentially
bled to death with Helen still inside. Thankfully, she didn't explain that in the moment to
either Brian or I...
But, we transferred to the hospital. I
got dressed, went in the car, and walked into the hospital like it
was any other day and I was going to the store. (Again, with an
umbilical cord hanging between my legs with a metal clamp on it...
but no one could see that...) I remember getting up to the desk and
the lady asked “So where's the woman in labor” and when my
midwife pointed to me the receptionist muttered something along the lines of “Wait. What? Oh.” Because, I
didn't look like what was going on. It didn't feel like an emergency.
I wasn't panicked. Of course, I didn't fully grasp the scope of what
was happening at the time. And I think I was very high on oxytocin...
So, they took me into the hospital
system. Complete with the stylish gown, several different people
asking you the exact same questions a million times, needles going
different places, pubic hair being shaved, feeling that you're not
cared for by anyone in the room wearing a uniform. It was not fun.
This was why I didn't want to be in a hospital. But, here we were,
and I was going to to make the best of it.
The doctor came in. She was a woman and
immediately I didn't like her. I felt like she was judging me for
wanting to have a home-birth with twins and felt like she was rude to
my midwife. But, she wanted me to have the vaginal birth I wanted.
But, she also knew that time was of the essence. If Helen's heart
rate dropped we needed to be able to get her out fast.
So, they wheeled me into the operating
room. I remember feeling this sense of panic set in. I don't want to
be here, I don't want to be here, I thought. I remember asking myself
a million questions. Did I really need to be in there? My midwife who
I trusted wholeheartedly said it was the best option, so I trusted
that even though I knew I didn't fully understand. Maybe, hopefully,
she was right.
And then the pain.
Oh the pain. When the doctor said she
wanted to try and give me a vaginal birth, what she meant, was the
only thing she could mean. That they would try to turn Helen. And
they tried. And they tried. I experienced that unbearable pain
over and over again. For a second time. And, again, Helen would turn
and then as soon as the pressure from the hands were gone, she would
go right back to laying across my belly.
This was it. I was getting a cesarean
My worst nightmare-- having one twin
vaginally and one twin by cesarean-- was actually coming true. I faced my worst fear. And I'm still
here. And, while, I know that I'm not superwoman, I think that makes
me pretty badass.
The surgery itself was such a strange
experience. Surgery is such a contradiction in experiences for the
mind versus the body. Your body has never experienced anything so intense, but your mind isn’t allowed to register it in the
moment because of the drugs and the numbing. All I remember feeling
was the most intense tremors I'd ever experienced. Brian was holding
my hand, and my midwife was holding Cassandra next to my cheek as the
doctors surgically birthed Helen.
I remember the first time I heard her
cry I had this huge sense of relief. It was done. They were both out.
The rest of our lives together could begin.
But, it wasn't that simple.
Helen had been born into a system with
rules. Cassandra was free from those rules. But, Helen was at the
mercy of the hospital protocol. So, my weaker, smaller twin was free
to be with me while Helen the bigger, stronger twin had to go to the
She was fine. But she was in the
In hindsight I chastised the doctor who was responsible for this choice. He said she had low blood sugar and was under full term
so by hospital protocol needed to go to the NICU. I said, of course
she had low blood sugar. I hadn't even seen her. She hadn't had a
chance to nurse. He said he didn't know that. I said unlikely because
he was in the room the whole time.
But it didn't matter. She was in the
And, so we had to wait until she could
be allowed out of the NICU. I was in the mother baby unit (where I finally had some wonderful nurses taking true care of me) recovering
from a major surgery. I was holding and nursing Cassandra and the whole time just
wanting my babies to both be with me. They would wake me up ever hour
or so (not that I could actually sleep) to take my major-surgery
recovering body in a wheel chair slowly to see Helen and Brian in the
As Brian describes it, it felt like we
were in some sort of Kafka novel. Nothing made sense. All the cords,
machines beeping, printers buzzing, nurses ignoring you whirling by.
Nothing made sense. I wanted to just unplug Helen from everything and
bring her to nurse with me in the mother baby unit. But, I had to
wait. And wait. Once a baby is on blood sugar, like a drug addict,
you can't take them cold turkey off or it shocks their system. So we
had to wait for her to get slowly weaned off. And then we had to
wait, and wait, and wait, for a doctor who was busy with other babies
with actual serious conditions, to check her out. It felt like an
But, finally, both my babies were in my
hospital bed with me. I felt so exhausted, but so in love. Of course,
I had no idea what was coming with trying to figure out nursing both
of them. (I'll have to save that part of the story for another time.)
As I said, I'm no superwoman. But, I
did look my greatest fear straight in the face and say, “I'm bigger
than you and I'm not afraid. I don't understand, but I'm not afraid.”
It took a lot of processing with my
midwife afterwards to work out what happened that day. I relived that
days events so many times in my head wondering if we could have done
anything differently. But, my midwife is confident, that if we had
not gone to the hospital for a cesarean it could have ended really
badly for both Helen and I. It's possible one or both of us would not
have made it. My midwife said that the only way she could see a
natural birth working in a situation like mine would have been to
have a very skilled midwife reach up inside me immediately after
Cassandra had come out and turn Helen and pull her out. But, there is
no midwife in this area who is trained for that, and even that in and
of itself could have been very dangerous. My midwife says that the
only decision she truly regrets about my birth was not having
Cassandra with me for more of my labor with Helen. Which, in all
honesty, I don't regret, because I was so busy concentrating on what
was happening with Helen that I couldn't focus on anything else. She
was bonding with grandma and her big sister and for me that is
I don't have any regrets. When it comes
down to it, all I can feel is that I am grateful. Grateful to be here
with my three beautiful girls. With a supportive husband, midwife
and tribe. And even despite how much I don't like hospitals, grateful
for my cesarean section. As much as the negative voices in my head
want to tell me I could have made different choices, things could
have been different, etc... I know that, really, the way things
turned out, is pretty great. <3