Luke's Birth Story

Luke Kenneth Transtrum joined our family on June 21, 2012. Ever since Camilla was born, I had been hoping to at least attempt to have a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) because I felt like labor had been such an amazing, challenging, empowering sort of experience. I couldn’t imagine never getting to go through that again. When we moved to Houston, I was devastated to learn that Houston is not the most VBAC-friendly city. If we wanted a child here, I would have to search hard to find a doctor AND a hospital who were willing to let me try it, or else just give up and take another c-section which would pretty much end any hopes of having a vaginal birth ever. Just a few months after moving here, I was pregnant again and found one doctor who was VBAC-friendly and accepted my insurance. Just one. He turned out to be a fantastic doctor who I would happily use again. He told me early on that he will typically let women go to 41 weeks, but that I’d really have to convince him to go further than that. I was happy just to know I might have a chance.

Fast forward about 9 months, and I was incredibly huge and uncomfortable, and looking for signs of labor in every cramped leg and sleepless night. I thought I was going into labor a couple of times, but nothing ever came of it. Each week when I went in for an appointment, I wasn’t terribly surprised to hear there was no change, no progress. And all of a sudden, I started feeling very anxious about what to do if I did go into labor. My parents had tickets booked for the week after my due date since I mostly wanted their help if I had another c-section and I didn’t want them hanging around for a week and half waiting for the baby to come. Camilla is not the most flexible child in the world—we organize our lives around her routines and it keeps us all happy. There was no way I could drop her off at a friend’s house in the middle of the night. I knew she would flip out and certainly not sleep. She can miss a nap occasionally, but what if this labor was anything like the last one? It was 32 hours long, and that was with pitocin around 20 hours in when things slowed down. This time they couldn’t give me anything to speed it up, so I’d just have to wait it out and so would Millie. I knew that if push came to shove, Mark would need to be with Camilla and NOT with me. What if I ended up going through labor only to need another c-section and I was all alone? Then I started to think about recovery. I knew what to expect from c-section recovery, and I wasn’t afraid of it. On the other hand, Camilla’s head was and always has been off the charts huge. I can only imagine what kind of tearing I might have in store if I pushed out a baby like that. Plus, I never went into labor on my own with Camilla (they broke my water at 42 weeks)—who knows how long it would take for my body to start things on its own.

Anyhow, none of these issues alone was enough to make me accept a c-section the day before my due date when my doctor said we could get the baby out today if I really wanted to. (I was complaining to him—he wasn’t trying to push it on me.) I knew I needed to ride it out as long as I had decided beforehand so I didn’t have any regrets. We had the c-section scheduled for a Thursday that was 5 days after my due date and the day after my parents arrived in Houston.

Thursday morning came with no labor, so Mark and I headed into the hospital at around 6:30 am. My doctor offered to check me again to see if I had dilated any more at all, but by that point I was completely ready for the c-section and didn’t want to consider changing course. He asked me to remind him why Camilla had been a c-section, and when I told her about her large head and weight, he agreed that I most likely would have trouble getting this little guy out, too. So off to surgery we went!

I wasn’t really nervous at all as they prepped me for surgery. The spinal didn’t hurt, I sort of remembered how things had gone with Camilla, and I thought it would all be a cinch. After laying there for awhile as my legs grew more and more numb, panic started to set in. When I got the epidural with Camilla, I remember having the same feelings of panic when I couldn’t move my legs. I HATE that feeling. I didn’t expect it to bother me so much this time, but I was practically in tears by the time Mark finally got to come in and hold my hand. I kept trying to tell myself I could move my legs if I wanted to, but that I just didn’t want to right now. But nothing could keep me from continuing to try to move them anyways. I held onto Mark pretty tight the whole time, and I was so much more aware of all of the tugging, pulling, and pushing by the doctors. I don’t remember that from Camilla’s birth, but I was so out of it at that point that I’m not surprised I don’t remember it. They finally got my baby out (I later learned that Dr. Franco had to make my incision a little bit larger because this boy’s head wouldn’t quite fit through) and I heard a few small cries, and then nothing. Finally I asked why I couldn’t hear him, and they said they had taken him out of the room so the doctor could do his checks. That was a relief—there’s nothing quite like NOT hearing your new baby cry when you know darn good and well that he’s out of your belly. At some point, nausea started to set in. I told them I thought I was going to throw up, and they gave me a suction thing like you get at the dentist. Sure enough, it got some use. The anesthesiologist was trying not to give me anything that would make me less coherent until I got to see my baby, but he had to give me something to take the edge off the nausea at that point. I vaguely remember Mark coming back in the room with the baby, but not very clearly. I always wanted to be awake during a c-section so I could see my baby and know what it looks like—you know, just in case they try to swap it out on me. J I couldn’t have picked my baby out of a lineup except that he looked so much like Camilla had when she was born.

I spent an hour or two in recovery, but don’t remember much about it other than getting my Morphine drip button. I could push it every 10 minutes, and I was very conscious of pushing it as frequently as possible. Eventually I was taken to my room where Mark was waiting for me. Two nurses moved me to my new bed, and it was the most painful thing about the entire birth experience. They seriously have to find a better way to move somebody who’s just had major abdominal surgery. Then we waited for what seemed like hours to get our hands on our baby. I was kind of ticked off—obviously the only thing I wanted was to see my baby at that point. But we finally got him, and loved finally holding him and taking a better look at our little guy. He spent the first day sleeping constantly. He didn’t seem remotely interested in food. The next day they sent a lactation nurse to help me get him to latch on. He figured it out almost immediately and from then on wanted to eat constantly.

We were really excited for Camilla to come meet her baby brother. She did not disappoint! She had a wonderful day with my parents and according to them was a perfect angel the whole time I was in the hospital. She brought a Nonie (her word for blankie) to the hospital to give to the baby, and she loved looking at him and giving him kisses. When she left, Mark and I commented on how wonderful and sweet our children are and how much we missed Millie already. It was hard not seeing her much for those few days.

The most difficult thing we had to accomplish while at the hospital was naming our new son. We had tried to come up with something beforehand, but never came to an agreement. By then we had narrowed it down to two names, both of which had significance to Mark’s family. They were both good names, and there wasn’t really a good way to pick between the two. Mark and I both sort of liked Luke best as a first name, so I finally said we should just go with it. We spent a whole day calling him Luke before we told anybody our decision in case we changed our minds. I know it sounds like such a silly thing to stress about, but it was a really tough decision and caused a lot of frustration. After the fact, we’re both very happy with our choice and are happy to have our little Luke Kenneth in our family!

I get really frustrated with people who act like c-sections are the end of the world and that doctors push them on their patients against their will. I certainly never wanted to have my children this way, but in the end I feel just grateful for modern medicine and an alternative option. While we were in the hospital, all of the nurses were amazed at how big my baby was and how big his head is—and he is smaller than Camilla was. (Luke’s head was 14 ½ inches, Camilla’s was 15 ¼ inches.) When I take Camilla to the pediatrician, she always seems shocked at how big her head is, and isn’t surprised I had a c-section. Yes, it may have been possible for me to deliver my children vaginally, but I’ve decided a scar on my belly just might be better than the alternative for me. I also feel like women who have had a c-section are either okay with their birth experience and don’t need anybody to make them question its necessity after the fact when it’s too late to change things or else they’re struggling to come to terms with the experience and don’t need anybody making them feel worse about it. So if you’re one of those anti-c-section people, keep it to yourself. You don’t know all of the circumstances and you’re not helping anybody by opening your mouth and judging somebody else’s experience. (I know people who are like this, I’m not exaggerating.) If you’re one of those people who have ended up needing c-sections to bring your children into this world, don’t feel bad about it. I was terrified at the prospect of ending up with one, but I’m grateful for both of my c-section experiences and found them to be as challenging as labor in many ways and absolutely as rewarding as I held my beautiful children after each one. I wish we didn’t feel the need to justify ourselves for all of the decisions we and our doctors make as we bring children into this world, but I am honestly happy about how things went and in a way very happy that I don’t have to wonder in the future if I’m bringing my children into the world in the best way possible. I know it’s the best way for me.