Childbirth

last updated 2/18/97

In the summer of 1996, I answered questions for someone who was doing a study of the experience of childbirth for survivors of sexual abuse. I am putting what I wrote up here because I wanted to share it with a couple of people I know who were wondering about how their issues would affect their pregnancy. Please be careful about reading this--it tends to emphasize all the minor things that can go wrong. If you are pregnant, and a worrying type, it might just give you more things to worry about.

First child: I felt continous nausea (though I only vomited a couple of times) and very tired and generally miserable for the first four months. We had genetic testing by Chorionic Villus Sampling (CVS--done earlier than amniocentisis), which was a good experience, and learned that I was carrying a boy (I'm glad we had a chance to get used to the idea--I am one of four girls and so it seemed a surprise).

I continued to work full-time, though I didn't really have enough energy. At 30 weeks, I grew concerned about the number of Braxton-Hicks contractions I was having and was diagnosed with pre-term labor. I spent 7-weeks on complete bed rest (up for only half an hour a day, counting going to the bathroom). I was on a home monitor and medication (terbutaline/breathine) first by pill and then by subcultaneous pump. I found the whole bedrest experience very difficult, but I managed to follow instructions. Everytime I went out of the house (for example for obstetrical appointments), I ended up with too many contractions, which were stopped with extra medication. We arranged for a Lamaze instructor to come to our home, and I spent a lot of time on the phone arranging to meet hospital rules for early discharge (I wanted to go home in 24 hours or less).

I went off the medication and bedrest at about 36 1/2 weeks (a few days earlier than the doctors had wanted because I said I couldn't take it any longer). I had contractions every five minutes for a week--we went to the hospital (35 miles away) and were sent home again at least three times.

Finally my water broke, and I went to the hospital. I wasn't in very serious labor, so the midwife had me walk around for awhile. When the contractions began to get worse, I asked for something to help the pain a little (I had previously decided I didn't want an epidural. I am someone who prefers to avoid medication) and was given a shot of Stadol. That nearly put me to sleep, and apparently relaxed me so that things went faster. When I got fully back to an awake state, I was around 9 cm. My contractions actually stopped for about half an hour. I enjoyed the break, but the midwife worried and had me walk around. When the contractions started up again I moved very quickly into pushing, which I found definitely easier to bear.

I pushed for about half an hour, the midwife did a small episiotomy, and my son was born in the early afternoon about 10 hours after my water broke. He weighed 7 lbs. 3 1/2 oz. and had no problems--he never left my room. I remember that when the head started to emerge, the midwife asked me if I wanted to touch it and I vehemently said no. I was able to hold him immediately, and I was on my feet within a few hours and went home the next morning.

I don't have a clear sense of how my abuse history affected my childbirth experience. It meant a great deal to me to have a motherly midwife, and I definitely wanted to avoid being in the hospital (though I had never been hospitalized as a child). I felt a good bit of anxiety and mild depression during pregnancy; I saw a therapist (who didn't turn out to be very helpful) until bedrest made that impossible. I don't think I told any of the doctors and midwives that I was a sexual abuse survivor, though I remember thinking about telling.

I was afraid of my son's dependence, and after a difficult day would feel that I didn't have any more to give. However, I felt very competent and very bonded from the beginning. Sometimes I told people that having a difficult pregnancy made life with a newborn seem easy by comparison. I felt that I was able to give my child love in a way that I hadn't been given love when I was a child. Sometimes, I felt like I had overdrawn my bank account because I was giving more love than I had on deposit. I turned to my husband at those times, which didn't work very well. Usually, after a few hours of feeling I couldn't cope anymore, I would be able to give again. Luckily my husband does not work long hours at the office, and so he really has done a significant share of childrearing.

I breastfed my son for 9-months before weaning him to a cup. I went back to work part-time when he was 8-weeks old and had him in daycare about 6-hours a day. I pumped milk for his bottles at daycare. I was proud of having lots of milk and how he grew getting all his nourishment from me. I took advantage of his diminishing interest in nursing to wean him fairly early and felt a lot of relief about not being tied down to nursing anymore.

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