C-Section Birth Stories: Andrea Thompson

1. Please share the circumstances that led to your c-section birth(s):

This wasn’t my first rodeo. I have had a hell of a birth story, from the moment I read my first positive pregnancy test in 2014. I am now a mother of three boys, all delivered via cesarean. There is so much more to where this story began, but let’s start with a global pandemic. I am a Nurse Practitioner and I had finished my last chart that day. I had an entire week off planned, to mentally prepare and to rest. I was looking forward to a pedicure, lots of rest, and even more, some house chores. We put our oldest boys to bed and I figured I would take a bath and get some rest. I had been feeling a little crampy throughout the day, but no spotting; I figured I needed to drink some more water. Also, the fact that I had vacuumed the garage over the weekend and may have pushed myself a bit too much. I had an appointment with my OB the next morning, so I figured if I just made it through the night, we could assess if I was not going to make it one more week. As I took my bath, I reminisced of the time I had labored in this very tub a few years before, so peaceful and powerful. I had attempted a VBAC with my last baby; that’s a different story for a different day. I also thought of the birthday we chose for our newest roommate-to-be. I remember having conversations with my husband about how it felt strange to choose their birthday; we toyed with which day of the week may be more or less convenient. We settled on Wednesday so I could perhaps get out of the hospital over the weekend.

It was about 10:00 pm when I got into the warm bath. I debated whether or not to save my last bath bomb or not; I used it. My husband had just gone to bed. Then there was that moment - did I just pee myself? I stood up…there was no doubt my water had broken. I had never felt anything like that before. My water did break with my second child, but it was while I was pushing and didn’t feel like nearly the amount of liquid as this moment. “I think we are going to need to head to the hospital,” I said to my husband. I have never seen him shoot out of bed so quickly! I was oddly calm. I just walked him through each thing we needed to do. I had packed a bag for myself and for our boys. I called my friend, a doula so to speak, and she answered right away; as if she knew. I called my OB, she also answered right away, and she knew before I even said a word. “My water broke.” “Okay, I’ll come and get you.” I know what you’re thinking, that’s some real service there; but we happen to be neighbors, colleagues and friends, and it just seemed to be the most efficient way to get her and me to the hospital. My husband could follow later once the older kids were squared away.

I was taking washcloths and shoving them in my pants; I couldn’t believe the amount of fluid flowing everywhere; it was meconium stained. Not a reason to ‘freak out’ per se, but another reason to head to the hospital. I started calmly reciting more orders to my husband and started reading down the phone tree to help with our older kiddos. Of course, it was past 10:00 pm so everyone was asleep! One of my amazing neighbors came over right away without hesitation and eventually my cousin was able to come on over to be with my boys. Before I left the house, I snuck into the boys’ room and woke up my oldest to tell him we were headed to the hospital. He was half-awake, but I told him we were going to the hospital to have his baby brother; I didn’t want him to worry in the morning and I know he really cherishes our hugs and kisses goodbye so I gave him a good squeeze. I gave my other sleeping boy a sweet kiss on the forehead, my little baby, no longer the baby; but also don’t wake the bear.

Off we went; my chariot arrived at the front door in a matter of minutes and a familiar smiling face. I had warned her nothing had ever gone as planned; she seemed to welcome it. As we drove to the hospital into the night, we laughed about this scenario. I wasn’t really having contractions at all and I was busy on and off the phone making sure that my older boys were taken care of and that my husband could make his way to the hospital. We entered the hospital through the employee entrance; we had to sign in and scan our temperature (oh ya, COVID). We both know people in the hospital and actually ran into a few people along the way; chatting like it was any other middle of the night. As we walked up to Labor & Delivery I did start to have some contractions. It was very quiet on the unit, and I felt surprisingly calm. I don’t think it had really hit me yet that we were going to have a baby that night, and that surgery was just on the horizon. Perhaps it was best that that feeling never sunk in fully; I treaded water on the surface with confidence and it’s good to know that sometimes we don’t need to dive too deep.

I got settled in fairly quickly. Even in the quiet night hours, things seem to move like a parade; hurry up and wait. Sometimes there is movement all around you and you’re just stuck still. I waited in the admit room, just sitting in a chair next to my OB. She excused herself to go ready for surgery as soon as my husband arrived; I knew she had to get her head into the game and so did I. He had made it just fine, parked in the right place, and brought all the crap I had packed. We were admitted to room 13. Really? 13? Isn’t that a forbidden room number? I had no room for the ‘nurse curse’ because at my last birth, well that was where nurse curses are defined.

I had a real dream team though, a couple of amazing midwives/friends and a fabulous nurse. It was actually her last shift on the unit, she was heading out of state to do some travel nursing soon; likely a side effect of the pandemic. I had almost forgotten we were in a pandemic for a moment until I had to get a COVID test. Can you believe this was the first time I had been tested for COVID throughout the entire pandemic? Even as a Nurse Practitioner, working in a clinic throughout, never once had I needed to be tested thankfully; now here I was getting this awful shove up the nose, eyes watering, my husband looking on like, ‘Oh hell no I better not be next?!’ Thankfully I was negative, that spared him the test of doom.

I started to finally have contractions; well this was not what I signed up for! When I made the choice to have a scheduled cesarean I pictured rolling in early in the morning, well-rested, hair washed and dried, minimal yet glowing makeup; no contractions, just a fresh face and body. Well, instead, they got a tired gal, who did at least finish all her charts that day, ate a bowl of cereal for dinner, and then bathed in her own meconium-stained amniotic fluid. So fresh and now I was having contractions every 3 - 5 minutes while we waited to get wheeled into surgery. At least I still had my sense of humor and asked if I couldn’t eat, could I at least get the peanut ball; not a funny joke.

I got an IV put into each arm; one seemed to go in pretty easily, the second was a bit more of a challenge, but a midwife buddy saved the day on that one. Then, of course, I had to use the restroom. Nothing like leaking fluids from your vagina, having contractions, pulling your IV poles into the very tiny bathroom just so you can tinkle. I sat there on the toilet as I stared at my no longer white flip-flops wondering how I got here. I had flashbacks of thinking; someone could have died in this hospital gown. I did actually talk to a friend about this, a midwife; she had never thought of it in that way, even after all the women she had cared for in the past. “Surgery is messy, maybe change when you’re out of surgery?” is what she suggested. That seemed reasonable.

I’ve gotten pretty good at reading the room. A couple of times, while I sat there in the hospital bed waiting for surgery, I could see there was some concern on the monitor. Thankfully, it was as simple as a position change, likely a few decelerations. Of course, most people in the room knew of my previous birth horror stories, so while they didn’t say anything was off, I had my head on a swivel. The anesthesiologist came in to discuss surgery. He looked so incredibly young and slightly nervous. I do think being a healthcare provider myself, whom people know in hospital, perhaps made everyone a bit more nervous because he must have asked me the same question 400 times. That being said, he was extremely kind and during surgery, turned out to be a total rocks star and I appreciated his thoroughness.

My OB came back in to go over the possible complications and consent. It felt like the last time I could say I wanted to change my mind, but I didn’t. I felt safe - nervous, but safe. I was ready; ready to birth my baby in the best way for me, my baby, and my uterus. There are moments of grief when you don’t birth the way you had envisioned, but today I had envisioned being surrounded by kind, competent and caring people, and that was all true, no matter how I was birthing. I chose to walk into the Operating Room, room 2; the same place my second baby was born almost 4 years earlier. I wrapped myself in a blanket; it looked just like a cape, superwoman walking into her surgery. I wasn’t walking alone; I was surrounded by a fantastic group of women, who would all help guide my baby into the world. As I entered the OR, Christina Aguilera’s ‘Fighter’ rang from the speakers; the most perfect entrance and a moment that gave me the faith I was where I was supposed to be.

There were so many people and yet it felt quiet. Music played as I received my spinal, which seemed much easier than getting an epidural. I curled my back, gave a good hug to my nurse, and took deep breaths. I laid down on the operating table and asked for my husband, who wasn’t too far behind. He came in dressed to impress in his surgical garb. I could hear people around me, but not specifically what they were saying. I had started to look inward, preparing my body to part with the baby I had been growing for months; readying every cell in my body to begin its healing process right away, accepting entry of something foreign in order to birth my sweet boy.

My OB is also my friend and a well-respected colleague, and I know she was on her A-game. A midwife colleague of mine also assisted on the surgery while another friend and colleague stayed close right by my side; I was surrounded by so much love, care, and years of education and skill; and truly some badass women I admire. I had that moment again, as I did in the bathroom, thinking how did I get here? And I thought, how do we get anywhere? Perhaps it’s not how we got there but where we go from here that will dictate our progress and our healing. I had a lot of nausea throughout the surgery and that rock star anesthesiologist held something ginger-scented thing under my nose for a good 30 minutes and I remember thinking, what a sweetheart. Other than my husband, he was the only man in the room. He did at one point ask my OB about strapping my hands down (which is common but not really necessary), and she just looked at him like, no. Damn, I love her, I thought. More reassurance I was going to be okay.

My husband held my hand the whole way through; I was overwhelmed with love and even had a tear stream down my face. The surgery seemed to take longer than it had in the past. I think the more cesareans you have, the more scar tissue, perhaps the more possibility for complications; not today Satan. I had the dream team and they were working with so much care. Songs from my playlist continued to play, all the sweet notes I had chosen, each one a perfect entrance into the world. Then just one minute before 1:00 am, LL Cool J’s “Mama Said Knock You Out” began to play, and there was a crescendo of people talking, “There he is!” and that sweet cry a mother holds her breath to hear. My OB brought him right over the drape to meet his mama and I just laughed at his song choice to enter the world; don’t call it a comeback; I’ve been here for years.

A cesarean isn’t over when a baby is born. I immediately sent my husband over to greet our newest addition, the team taking care to clear the path for me to see him. I was still feeling quite a bit of nausea but was assured by my surgeon it was going to get better momentarily. I knew this meant putting all my insides back in (sometimes it’s hard to know too much about the procedure). At one point I asked my friend, “Look over the drape, how does my uterus look?” She laughed but obliged, “It looks perfect, Andrea.” I knew she would tell me the truth, and I took a sigh of relief. I met my sweet boy cheek to cheek just moments later. I was a bit too nauseated to hold him, but my husband held him on me for several minutes. The room started to get quieter as people exited. Thankfully, no need for an entire infant team, my baby boy was doing perfectly. I knew we were getting close to leaving the OR as they started counting instruments. My nausea was improving and, although tired, I was already on my path to healing, just as I had coached my body to do. As we wrapped up in the OR, I felt a sense of calm; it may have been the administered drugs, but I also think I felt that sense of ‘I did it.’ Coming down from the high of birth, soon my sweet baby was in my arms in recovery and so my healing began.

2. What surprised you the most about having a c-section?:

The surprise isn’t really about having a c-section, the surprise for me was my recovery. By preparing my mind and body for surgery, I healed with so much ease. I felt strong and confident in my decision and in my recovery efforts and that made a world of difference.

3. What kind of support do you feel you received (from friends, family, healthcare team) after your c-section(s)?:

I do think I have an incredibly special and supportive team; from my partner to my OB, to those I met in the OR that day, my family, my friends; I have been so lucky to have a rally of support. This is also something that I have learned throughout my journey of birthing; whom you surround yourself with is so incredibly important. When we feel supported, no matter the outcome, we are better able to heal.

4. What’s your #1 piece of advice/encouragement for a new c-section mom?:

Give yourself grace. There is so much that we don’t have control over, but no matter your journey, how you came to birth, and your thoughts/feelings surrounding those circumstances, be kind to yourself - body and soul.

5. How do you believe having a c-section birth(s) made you stronger?:

I think I have always been strong, I just didn’t know how strong I could really be; now I do.

Name: Andrea Thompson

Country of Residence: USA

Profession: Nurse Practitioner, ARPN, FNP-C, PMHNP-BC, Thrive Wellness of Reno

Instagram Username: @andreathompson.np