essentialmidwifery

Birthy Thoughts by Jane E. Drichta and Jodilyn Owen

More Vbac Stuff-Jane April 18, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — EssentialMidwifery @ 1:29 am
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I’ve been doing a lot of sitting on the couch lately, working with a set of premature twins in my neighborhood.  They are sweet and cute and screechy and vomit-y, and all the things that you could reasonably expect little people to be.  It also means that occasionally, between physical therapy exercises, massage, and wiping spit-up off my shirt, I get to watch some CNN.  Like many people, both men and women, who I hang with, I was shocked to hear Democratic strategist Hilary Rosen’s comments regarding Ann Romney and her decision to stay at home with her boys, rather than work outside the home.  Now this is not a political blog, and I won’t go into my own personal beliefs here, although I will say that I value good manners from all parties. What struck me, and seemingly much of the rest of America is the fact that once again, women are being divided, and once again, we are doing it to ourselves.

This lack of cohesiveness is certainly nothing new in feminism, and regrettably, it is nothing new in the birthing community.  But, you know what they say about familiarity, and I am certainly feeling a bit of contempt right now for a situation that’s a-brewing in the Seattle vbac community.  Let me tell you a story:

Once upon a time, Dear Ones, there was a little community hospital. It didn’t have a Level III NICU, but it had nurses who would gently love your baby to sleep at the desk, if you needed a nap yourself.  It didn’t have flat screen tvs or a bath tub in every room, but the rooms were large enough to stroll around, and the showers were big enough for two.  There was an ob group there, and a few independent nurse midwives who had privileges, as well as a family practice doc or two for variety.  They had nurse anestethists, rather than dedicated anesthesiologists, and all seemed to work very well for a while.  Oh, and they did vbac.  Lots and lots of vbac.

But the only constant is change, Dear Ones, and progress must be made.  The flat screens went in, and the ob group gradually morphed into another set of personalities.  The nurses still loved on the babies, most of the independent midwives eventually left, and an official CNM group was established.  Oh, and the vbacs went away.

You might think, Dear Ones, that this is the end of the story, that this is one more rant about how the opportunity to vbac is being slowly taken away. But no.  Actually, now the vbacs are coming back!  The obs are willing to accommodate vbac on a case by case basis, depending primarily on the reason for the primary cesarean.  They are especially fond of those reasons that are “non-repeating. “  In obstetrical language, this includes a breech baby, placenta previa, and basically any other condition where you had to schedule a c-section before the labor waves hit you.  It also helps if you have had a previous vaginal birth, have no underlying health conditions, like long walks on the beach, and are a Capricorn.  (Ok, that was a bit snarky.  You caught me.)

So you would think we would be celebrating, right?  After all, isn’t any vbac a cause for celebration?  Yes.  Yes, of course.  But I’m still upset, and I’ll tell you why.

While there is some statistical difference between the “success” rates of vbacs based on the initial section, it also really really doesn’t matter.  If the Big Bad Wolf of VBAC is uterine rupture, why does it matter how the scar got there in the first place?  If we are going to be scared of scars, let’s really commit to it.  Let’s be really really scared.  Let’s have a vbac ban that is honest.  Let’s not try to hide our own fear behind a colorful wall of half examined statistics and rupture stories our colleagues told us on the nightshift.  Nights are dark and cold, and even the extra cardigan in your locker can’t protect you from half buried truths, based on old school traditions and your sister’s scheduled repeat cesarean.

Even ACOG clearly states that VBAC is a “safe and reasonable choice for most women,” who have had one c-section, and even for “some women” with two.[i]  It says nothing about “non-repeating” conditions, although it does specify that a suspected big baby, carrying twins, or going over 40 weeks are not reasons for a mother to be denied a VBAC.  (It actually says denied a TOLAC-trial of labor-but that language is another post for another time.)

And, by the way, vbac is successful  75% of the time.[ii]  This is actually a better chance than an every day, run of the mill, first time mama, who has a 67.3% chance of a vaginal birth.[iii]  And by the way, in 1965, the C-section rate was only 4.5%[iv]  Just sayin’.

Jodilyn and I have said for over a decade that 99% of a vbac happens in the mind, not in the uterus.  The  research, the personal exploration, the soul searching, the intense wanting, means everything.  A supportive provider certainly helps, as does a partner who is on board.  But at the very end of the day, it is a mother’s journey.  She needs allies, certainly, but the journey is definitively her own.  She is the one who has to fight the doubts, and ultimately believe that she is not broken.  She may be a bit bent in spirit, but eventually most women can believe that most of the time, her uterus and her mind are strong.

So what does it do to a mother who is already working through her process, when she is told that not only does she have to live with the results of her c-section, but that she didn’t have the right kind of labor before her section?  And what does it do to her faith in the medical professionals who tell her that, when she realizes this is a completely arbitrary distinction?


[i] American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists. (1999). ACOG Practice Bulletin No. 5: Vaginal birth after previous cesarean delivery. Washington DC.

[ii] Coassolo, K. M., Stamilio, D. M., Pare, E., Peipert, J. F., Stevens, E., Nelson, D., et al. (2005). Safety and Efficacy of Vaginal Birth After Cesarean Attempts at or Beyond 40 Weeks Gestation. Obstetrics & Gynecology, 106, 700-6.

[iii] National Center for Health Statistics

[iv] Taffel SM, Placek PJ, Liss T. Trends in the United States cesarean section rate and reasons for the 1980-85 rise. Am J Public Health 1987;77:955-9.

 

Finger, Airplanes, and Sutures: What’s in a Scar?–Jodilyn April 17, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — EssentialMidwifery @ 3:04 pm

OK—two disclaimers and an FYI:

1. If you get queasy this one might not be for you.  There are descriptions and even pictures of a small but significant wound on my finger included in this post.

2. I am fully aware that a finger and a uterus are different from each other, I’m using my finger in this post as an inspiration to consider uterine scars and how they heal.  I also talk a bit about airplanes and the scientists who understand why they fly—and I relate them to the scientists (physicians) who understand cesarean surgery.  You can ignore the finger and airplane parts and the rest of this will still make sense : )

FYI: there are some highlighted phrases in this post–they are live links, click on them to learn more!

For the rest of y’all….

It has been with a great deal of interest that I have observed my own finger over the last two months.  It all started with that magic moment I felt the lid of the tin can I was opening make a neat “pop” sound as it cut into the soft skin just below the first knuckle of my pointer finger on my right hand.  It was followed quickly by a series of thoughts in my head that went something like this:

Me:  “hey, I just cut my finger”

Me Again:  “wow, I think that’s my bone”

Me: “oh, my, that’s cool”

Me Again: “um, I think that’s my bone”

Me: “hmmm. I think I’m gonna pass out.”

Me Again: “Why would I pass out, remember the crazy things I’ve seen—way worse than this!”

Me: “yah, stop talking and lie down on the floor and put your feet up before you faint”

As I slumped to the floor, spine removed from body style, I quietly said to my husband, “Hey, I think I just cut myself really badly”.  Here’s a picture of the cut:

I went to the doctor.  This cut went through several layers of skin and tissue.  It was kinda nasty.  But, thanks to old timey medicine, I got it sewn up.  I had five interrupted stitches placed in this cut.  Here’s a picture of the stitches:

So sexy, right?!

Remember, this is just my finger.  But it’s my finger.  These little suckers throb like the dickens when they’ve been thumped, sliced, burned, or otherwise assaulted.  I found I needed my finger for all sorts of daily tasks, and anytime I put any pressure on it or near it I would feel the pull of the stitches and the associated burning.  Goodbye sleep, I tossed and turned all night for several nights trying to make my finger comfortable!  It was kind of rude.  But as I lay awake in the wee hours I started to think about the other scars I’ve known.  The scars that belong to these women we have loved through hours of prenatal discussions and long nights of labor as they walked the long path to birthing a child vaginally after a cesarean birth.  Of my own scar from my first birth, and how much that birth established me in this world.  And the two births I had where my lovely boys sailed right past that scar on their way to my arms.  I imagine them looking at it from the inside and I remember my doubts about whether or not that scar would need to be reopened in order for them to be born.  For the record, I was over 42 weeks with both of those boys before they were born.  My scar stayed closed.  It neither burst open on its own nor did anyone slice back into it to birth the boys.  That may seem odd at first glance.  I mean, let’s review.  See that wee little cut up there on my finger?  Why on earth would a few threads actually work so that my finger won’t split open every time I try to wash a dish in the future?  And why on earth did the scar on my uterus not split open just from carrying the weight of the baby, the amniotic fluid, and the placenta, let alone from the pressure of labor?

I’ve often challenged my father-in-law the aerospace engineer to really explain to me why a giant metal machine full of parts, baggage, and people would possibly stay up in the air.  He patiently explains things likes “fluid mechanics” and “aerodynamics” and, no pun intended, it flies right over my head every single time.  But here’s the thing:  if you Google “how does an airplane stay in the air?” you will get roughly two million, seven hundred thousand answers.  Rocket scientists are not gatekeepers.  They want to share what they know even though it requires sharing of scientific and often complicated ideas.  Amazingly, when, in the middle of the night, I wondered, “hey, how many stitches does it take to close a cesarean?”, and I googled it, the answer proved to be non-existent online.  I was trying to equate trusting my finger to work again with trusting a uterus to work again. Although I’ve had my own cesarean, and seen dozens and dozens of them, I don’t know even approximately how many stitches it takes to close up that wound.  I do know there are five layers of stitches (the wall and outer lining of the uterus, the rectus muscle, fascia, and finally the ones that are visible to close the outer layer). When I (just now) asked my OB friend for an answer he shared that he uses about seven lengths of sutures and extra if there is additional bleeding or a longer than average cut.  Each suture length is 18 inches long, making just over ten feet of suture material that goes into closing up the incision for a cesarean birth.  When you are thinking of that magic combination of the body’s ability to heal and natural surge towards health and the support for that process given by sutures, you might see in your mind’s eye why those layers of incisions come together so well.

The really important part of this discovery is not that the information is not readily available online, it is the kind of phrases I saw that are online.  In answer to my question, one many women seem to have posed over many a web site, you can find answers such as, “I asked my doctor but he told me there about 10 staples on the outer-most layer and since that’s all I can see it is all I should worry about”.  And then there is the physician who condescends, “Personally, I would not worry about this and would trust the surgeon to do the best and place trust for your best!”  Huh?  If the repair, recovery, and future strength and functionability of the organ which sustains and then gives us actual life is guarded more than the secrets of how to fly an airplane, it’s no wonder we don’t know if we can trust it!

As two wise women, in their upcoming book The Essential Homebirth Guide have been known to say, “The Big Bad Wolf of the VBAC question is uterine rupture”…but what is a big bad wolf?  A mysterious allegorical shadow that gains darkness when we think about it because what we can’t define, we tend to fear. Fear is not released just because a very nice person in a white coat pats our backs and coos, “ah, don’t you just worry your pretty little head about it”. Understanding and knowledge allow us to let go of our fears.  Knowledge of how wounds heal, what to expect as your incision heals, and how it will all hold together during your next pregnancy, labor, and birth can put to rest a large percentage of the fear many women carry with them from one birth to the next.  A huge thank you to the prolific writer Robin Elise Weiss who covers all things pregnancy for about.com.  Click here and you can take a tour of photos of all-things cesarean-scar related.  And of course to the steady source of support and information, we turn to ICAN  at this link to get the frank details of exactly what occurs in a cesarean surgery.

So what’s in a finger?  And how on earth can we use my once sliced and now healed finger to guide us in our thoughts about uterine scars?  And what voice will we use to replace the dude in our heads who is going on about how we should just be nice girls and trust our doctors to do what is right?

Here is my finger today:

Here are some of the things I am doing every day with my finger: washing my hair, holding my toothbrush, typing, writing, pointing, carrying, chopping, sautéing, washing dishes, cleaning counters, petting the dog.  Also, I tend to feel my scar a lot and massage it and say nice things to it like, “thank you so much for healing, my life is so much easier now that you are all closed up!”  I couldn’t use my finger for all of the activities it was designed to help me accomplish for quite a while.  But now it is healed, and I get to use it again.

When I meet a woman who is considering a VBAC, and for example I met one yesterday and 3 last week, I look at my finger.   That scar and all of the tissue beneath it are really strong.  I trust it to do all of the activities it was designed to do.  I trust it for many reasons.  And now I get to add that I trust it because I got to watch how a combination of my body’s natural prowess at healing and some well placed sutures worked together to create a very strong bond where a wide open gap once existed.  And that is exactly why I carried and birthed two babies, both born a full pound to pound and a half larger than their older sister, without worrying about my uterus suddenly splitting in two.  The research backs up my observation and experience, and as midwives or a doulas, or whatever kind of birth worker label you want to slap on us, that is why Jane and I trust that the biggest worry in the room where a VBAC mother is busy being pregnant or birthing should never be whether or not her body, which has done the work of healing just like my finger, will suddenly split open.

And now a word about that booming voice and how nice girls oughtta act and show reverence for what the doc says.  There are a handful of hospital-based midwifery and OB practices around Seattle that require a mom planning to VBAC to have a visit with the “high risk” obstetrician to be “approved” for a VBAC.  They are using a variety of parameters to decide whether or not to allow a woman to labor and deliver vaginally according to her wishes (they are different from practice to practice).  They are not using World Health Organization recommendations, or the recommendations of their own agency (ACOG), or good science, or best practice.  They are not comparing the risks of second surgical births to a vaginal birth. They are using arbitrary lines in the cement, likely based on policy created by reactive attorneys for their hospitals (this is just the society we live in today—it may or may not be something that the OB actually believes to be true).  After all of the years of watching cesarean rates rise, and VBAC rates rise, then fall, and now slowly creep up again, we are down to waiting and praying silently for approval or denial that may or may not be grounded in the truth about a woman’s body and her baby.  Enough with the good-girls, it’s time to get smart and learn about what keeps your uterus from falling apart at the first contraction.  Join ICAN today, follow the evidence, get yourself with a midwife or a physician who looks at you as if you are capable, smart, and able to understand science and logic. Then celebrate your strong healthy uterus every single day. From my fully functioning finger to your glorious capable and monstrously successful uterus, may we all enjoy the thrill of knowledge and the confidence born of understanding the truth about how our bodies heal.

 

On Grandmothers-Jane April 2, 2012

Filed under: Birthy Thoughts — EssentialMidwifery @ 2:53 am
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

There are as many kinds of mother-daughter relationships as there are mothers and daughters, and I for one, can’t do that kind of math.  I’m an English major. And when it comes to baby having, things get even more complicated.  I’ve had clients who couldn’t imagine giving birth without their mothers,others who didn’t call their mother until the baby was 3 months old, and everything in between.  Like most aspects of the client-midwife experience, it is certainly not my job to get in the middle of those sorts of things.  No good can come from that.

However, if the pregnant mama has the type of relationship where she does feel comfortable with her mother’s presence, there is magic to be seen at these births. Babies wash out of us, riding a primordial slip and slide of blood, water, and change.  A woman becomes a mother in one instant, a man a father.  And for the mother of the mother, she is suddenly thrust up the ladder a rung, Whether she is ready or not, she is now a Wise Woman.

So speaking to the grandmothers, even if you consciously reject the Wise Woman title, your soul knows better. You have undergone your own metamorphosis, brought on by your own baby’s labor.  Watching a person you love in pain, is incredibly difficult, particularly if that person is your child, The same cellular connection that existed when you nursed your baby, or held her as her teenage heart broke into a million pieces, or swelled with pride as she stood up for right, still exists. That fierce protectiveness that infused your every move when she was an infant?  Still there.  When she was small, you would have done more than died for her if anything threatened her safety; you would have killed for her.  And it might come as a surprise to realize that you still would.

But here, in the labor room, hopefully lit by candles and love, there is nothing to defend against, nothing to fight.  Mama Bear has to go into hibernation.  Watching your daughter discovering her own strength, to see her feel her own sacredness, is a journey all its own.  Just as she must surrender to forces larger than herself, so must you surrender your desires and expectations.  She will find her way, and you have to do nothing but get out of her way.  And it is so so hard.

For many grandmothers, this is the most they have touched their daughters in many years. But in labor, in some ways, you can almost go back in time.  You can embrace your child again, without reservation, hold her physically again as she moans into your breast again, looking to you to make it all okay.  And while you can’t take away her physical sensations, you can imbue her with the courage and fortitude that is hers by womanly right.  It is as if she grows up all over again, in a compressed amount of time, right before your eyes.  She begins small and frightened, moves through uncertainty and doubt, and then in one instant, as her own child eases out of her body, her confidence and self trust shine through again.

Grandmothers then too are ready to take their new place in their family’s world.  For your daughter was not the only one who was birthed into another form of self that day.  Welcome to the world, Wise Woman!

 

 
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