My Birth Plan Was Ruined. Twice.

November 8, 2022  |  Published by


CONTENT WARNING: This post discusses pregnancy loss.

I will never forget it. It's like it happened yesterday.

I was 20 weeks pregnant in the doctor's office with cold jelly all over my slightly protruding abdomen. Voices faded in and out as I heard, for the first time, that things didn't look good with the placement of my baby's placenta.

Sheer panic pulsated through my body as I flashed back to just six months earlier when I learned that my child Cameron had a condition that was incompatible with life. And there was no way this was happening… again. This baby was my second chance. This pregnancy had to go right. It had to. I simply could not handle the heartbreak of losing another baby.

child birth stock photo

Throughout both my loss and subsequent pregnancy, I had stellar care. Every month, I went to ultrasound appointments to make sure my baby boy was healthy and growing. My rainbow baby! My doctor encouraged me to make a birth plan and attend birthing classes even all the signs were pointing toward the need for a C-section.

Then on April 1st, at my 39.5 week appointment and final ultrasound, my doctor gave me good news. Incredibly, amazingly the placenta had shifted away from the cervix and I had the green light for an induction in 72 hours. I was so excited (and nervous!) when April 4th rolled around. I arrived at the hospital bright, early, and ready to finally become a mother to my first child.

After receiving labor-inducing medication, the process started slowly. After about an hour, contractions begun in earnest, everything looked good, and we were on the way. Then terror struck. Again. I suddenly began to bleed profusely. I remember my mother running down the hall for the medical staff. They examined me, stating that the placenta had ruptured and that I needed to be prepared for an immediate C-section.

I went from Plan A to Plan B and back to Plan A within the span of 3 days. Everything happened at lightning speed – the rush back to the operating room, an epidural, even the delivery. Then, at 11:11am, my oldest son was delivered.

And the recovery was difficult. I spent days not being able to hold my child properly or stand without assistance, and was constantly interrupted to have my wounds dressed. All while caring for a newborn.

Though I was stubborn to admit it, I needed help. Everything had gone awry and I just needed support. Looking back now, I feel absolutely blessed that I received such amazing, quick-thinking care and that my child was born healthy without major complications.

 

The ugly, jagged scar I bear (after two additional C-sections) is a reminder of my three beautiful, healthy babies. Babies that are now growing into young adults and accomplishing incredible things.

 

And on a good day – a day I’m being gentle with myself – it is a reminder of that very first April Fool’s Day joke my eldest played on me.

Lou and her three sons
Lou and her three sons
Lou Durant
Latest posts by Lou Durant (see all)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *