Before I start, I just want to say that I am grateful for the opportunity to share my confusing birth story. The roller coaster of emotions and the highs and lows of my story may trigger some of your readers but may inspire others, as well...
I found out I was pregnant May 31, 2013. My partner (now ex) had 3 previous children. This was my first. The thing is, we planned her. I had an IUD expiring, and asked if he wanted more kids. He said he did, and we discussed removing the IUD and planning naturally, to avoid pregnancy. “If it happens, it happens” is what he said. That was in March. I removed the IUD, and the next month I began my cycle.
On May 31st, after work, I drank a well loved spicy Caeser, and I looked at my ex and told him something was off. It didn’t taste right. I knew my drinks and this tasted off. I opened another and the same reaction happened. I told him “I think I need to go to the drug store.” Which he replied “you’re not even late” - he was right. My period was due that day and hadn’t come. So I went to the store anyway and bought a first response test. I peed on the stick. I waited. Then nearly fainted. I called for him to come read it. I was pregnant. His first words to be were “oh no. You can go get an abortion.” My head spun. An abortion? For a baby we discussed and somewhat planned? But I’m pro life for myself? What does he mean? My thoughts were scattered.
The moment that was supposed to be exciting and exhilarating were ruined by his attitude. “I already have three kids.” That was his excuse. This 39 year old man with 3 kids that knew exactly what would happen without protection or birth control just told me to terminate my baby. The next 36 weeks were nothing short of a nightmare. I was sick as a dog, I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, we argued constantly about the baby, about how much he drank and spent on alcohol instead of the baby. His almost 11 year old son moved in with us that summer. He was a great kid, with so much love for his unborn sibling already.
He helped out around the house when he remembered, he always did his homework, and attended a youth centre nearby. He made mistakes but owned up to them, and always tried to make sure he did his chores. Like any typical kid, he forgot often, but he tried his best. Unfortunately, he was influenced by the constant abuse surrounding him. It began to take a toll on him, and even though he won’t admit it, he was unhappy. Hell, we all were. The constant emotional and verbal abuse towards me was becoming less and less hidden. Judging my food intake, restricting my finances, spending over 700$ a month in alcohol, belittling me at work (he was my foreman), telling me he can’t love a baby he doesn’t even know when he has 3 children that are alive and that miss him. I was living in a nightmare.
By this stage of pregnancy (around 20-25 weeks), I had already begun to gather things for the baby. On September 9th, 2013 I found out my baby was a GIRL! I would have a daughter! I was over the moon excited for this baby. But then, my thoughts became my fears. How could I have a daughter with a man who is so mean to me? How could I raise a daughter around a man who calls his pregnant spouse “fat, vile and disgusting”, who tells me I’m an idiot for wanting a drug free birth, that I’m not strong enough to do it -my heart was crushed. I became angry and withdrawn. It felt hopeless. Good news came about 3 weeks later when I was accepted into the Lucina Midwives’ care in Edmonton. I was so excited to be in the care of midwives because I knew the care would be intimate like I needed. They had a support group for their clients that consisted of 8 women all due in February approximately. We all met and immediately connected. Our midwives were fantastic women with tremendous patience and compassion for each and every one of us. They taught us that we have a choice in our birth story, that we can do this, and further bestowed their faith in women onto us. Much of their support resonates with me to this day. I distinctly remember asking our one midwife “who do I talk to about eating my placenta!” She giggled and said it was her. I felt at home. Finally, I felt at peace and felt safe. Leaving the birth centre was always difficult. My peaceful surroundings would sharply turn back into the nightmare that I called “home” - still to this day I wonder if these ladies knew about the abuse without me saying anything about it. I haven’t asked them. I don’t have the courage.
Fast forward to the day I went into labour. January 29th, 2014, I woke up at 7:30am with my waters leaking (I thought I was peeing myself - I’d done it before). I called my midwives and they gave me instructions. I called my daughters father, and told him to stay at work until I gave him notice. He worked until 2pm. I spent all day walking around, sipping chai lattes in -37 Alberta weather. Her father arrived to our home around 3pm. My contractions were still going unnoticed and tolerable. He decided after giving me a lecture about not making dinner (while in labor) that he would go for a nap. Around 3:30 he laid down upstairs. My contractions immediately picked up, averaging around 8-10 min apart. I drank some water and watched tv in the living room waiting patiently for things to pick up. I began to feel tense with him home, as we had a very difficult relationship from day one. Around an hour later, my contractions became more strong and powerful. It was nearly 5pm now, and I decided to contact the midwives. I let them know they were getting much stronger and I needed to focus through them more. They told me to call them if I felt I needed to go in, regardless of being 4 minutes apart for an hour. At about 6, they jumped from 6-8 mins apart, to 3 minutes apart. I woke her father up, at which time he snapped on me for waking him and for not knowing where his t-shirt was. He began yelling at me for this. I proceeded downstairs, hunching over with each contraction. The last one at the door was about 6:30pm and I held our living room table. On it rest an Indian bowl we had filled with trinkets we’d found on hikes. As I hummed through the pain, he condescendingly said “it’s your fault for not wanting the drugs.” I reached into the bowl and grabbed a train rail nail I found and threw it at him. I couldn’t believe how he was behaving.
Nonetheless, I got into our truck (which he didn’t even hold my arm to get into - again, with full blown contractions) and his son followed suit. His son was 10 at the time. The drive was 45 minutes long to Lucina Birth Centre in Edmonton from Morinville. During this time, I texted my best friend, Leilani, letting her know we were heading over. She was my acting doula, without me even knowing it yet. During the drive, her father began to criticize me for texting directions but not giving him verbal ones to the birth centre. His son was in the back seat whispering that he was praying for me to not feel pain, and for our safe arrival. He apologized profusely for his fathers behaviour as well... Looking back I see how twisted it all is.
We arrived at Lucina at 7:23pm. I was desperate to get into the safe hands of my midwives. They asked if they could check my dilation which I happily agreed to. We were shocked to hear I was about 6.5cm upon arrival! I begged for my birthing tub to be filled so I could be in water where I was most comfortable. Leilani arrived some time after I was in the tub. The warmth of the water soothed my body between contractions, and the faucet running cool water on my lower back helped the pain. Leilani went between grabbing me cold water to cool cloths for my head, while my child’s father sat like a deer caught in headlights. His son sat in the far corner eating the McDonald’s Leilani brought him, since I didn’t make dinner while in labor LOL. At around 9pm I felt the urge to push. I tried to fight it but my midwives reminded me to surrender. Allow my body to do its necessary motions for baby to arrive. I began to push with everything I had in me, while in the tub. After a few pushes, some tears shed, a lot of swearing and all of the energy left in my soul, my dear sweet baby Feather arrived! 9:15pm they announced was her arrival time. They moved me from one end of the tub to the other so I could lay more comfortably and prepare for my placenta to expel. Feather lay on my chest under a warm wet towel, and we lay skin to skin. The midwives asked her father if he wanted to cut the cord, to which he declined. So, I took the opportunity to sever it. I was grateful for this right of passage but felt sad her father didn’t take the time nor try.
After her cord was cut, we moved to the bed. By this time, my ex had asked the lead midwife how much longer I would be there for. She expressed only a few hours if all went well, and he indicated he wanted to leave. She escorted him and his son out of the building and left me and my brand new baby in the hands of my best friend. They administered some shots of pitocin to encourage my placenta to expel, and unfortunately had to manually attempt to remove my placenta. My placenta finally expelled, at which time I lost a bit more blood than normal. She asked me to advise if anything felt off or if I needed her. We lay under the blankets and my midwives brought me a snack. If I recall correctly, it was a bowl of berries. Shortly after, I looked at my midwife and asked if it was normal to feel faint. Before I finished the word faint, I had fallen over to my left.
When I awoke, paramedics had arrived, they had moved me to a gurney and were about to transport me to the Misercordia Hospital. Leilani stood by frightened as ever, but remained calm. She had installed my car seat in her truck and began to try to contact the father. He refused to come help with my baby. I was administered more shots of pitocin to try and stop the hemorrhage to no avail, and Leilani was instructed to make her way to the Mis with my only minutes new baby. The midwives helped her load the precious cargo, and by then I was already on route. I recall only blips from here until surgery, so I apologize if some things don’t make sense.
I remember being brought to the emergency room and the doctors shouting at the medics to get me up to the maternity OR. I was brought into a room of some sort, where I was approached by various nurses and doctors. I was shouting for my baby, asking where she was and if she was okay and not to touch her. A nurse crouched down and told me “you may not live to see your baby so you need to stop asking about where she is.” I went from half dead to fully alert and ready to strike. A doctor calmed me down and told me “miss, your baby is okay. She’s with your friend. We need to work on you so you can see her.” After he said that, I fainted again on the gurney and woke up in the OR to a nurse holding paperwork in my face. I was forced to sign a form I couldn’t even read, waiving them of all liability in the event of an incident. How this is legal is beyond me. Immediately upon signing, which I couldn’t hold the pen for, I felt a burning in my urethra. I squirmed, held my legs closed and screamed not to touch my already tender genitals. They were attempting to insert a catheter. Several nurses held my legs down and opened my vulva to insert the catheter. I felt everything. I felt the burning of the insertion, I felt their fingers digging into my legs, I felt my legs give out from fighting too long. They put an anesthetic mask on my face and before I knew it, I was gone.
When I woke up, I was in a recovery room. Leilani was in the chair at the end of my bed and my darling baby was in her hospital cradle by my bed. Leilani looked so afraid and so relieved all at once. She brought Feather over to me and a nurse entered the room. She was kind, had a warm embrace and snuck me ginger ale and ice before given instruction to do so. I was asked to waive a Pediatricians right to care for my baby, which also meant I wasn’t allowed to use any hospital items for Feather. This was because I was refusing their assessments for feather, which my midwife had already done at Lucina. They contacted her to confirm and allowed me to sign. The nurse, however, snuck me cloth diapers and taught me how to latch. I was exhausted. My body was sore. My catheter was still in and my baby was lethargic from all of the stress. It was 3am. She hadn’t eaten in 5 hours or more. She nursed like a champion though, and we laid in bed awaiting our next move. Her father still hadn’t come to the hospital for us, and made every excuse not to come. A doctor arrived that morning and told me we needed to check my vitals and platelets. If they were low, we’d likely need a transfusion. I was scared. We tested them shortly after, which was no easy feat. 17 attempts and finally we got a vein, drew blood and filled my body up with saline. I needed 3 transfusions scheduled for later that day, and would need to be under 24 hour watch. I wasn’t going home for a while... still no sign of her father. He did however make a joke asking if me needing blood meant I’d have mixed race in me and end up speaking the language of whatever race donated blood. Sickening human being.
Leilani stayed the entire time minus a mandatory 4 hour work meeting. She snuck me in food because goodness knows hospital food is horrible. The friendly nurse was back that evening and snuck me more ginger ale. I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink until the transfusion was done. 48 hours in the hospital, one person by my side the whole time, my daughters aunt and cousin drove 3.5 hours on January 30th to see us. I was finally released the 31st. Leilani drove me back to morinville, which honestly felt like being driven back to the gates of hell. I walked in the door to a disgusting mess. The first thing he said to me was that his mother was on her way with his other 2 children, which I had no desire to deal with. I was exhausted, bruised, broken, angry, confused, scared, delighted that my baby was okay, and my midwives still needed to complete a home visit. I welcomed Leesha into my home, and something always told me in my gut that she knew I wasn’t okay without me saying. Her gentle touch during our assessment was comforting. She taught me how to latch, how to ensure baby is drinking, and signs to look for to feel like she was getting “enough” to eat. She also told me not to forget about me. I didn’t understand that at the time. But now I appreciate those words more than ever.
After she left, the father began to gather us all for photos and play “pass the baby” like we were some happy family. Both of his kids were sick with colds and infectious noses and were kissing my baby. She later became sick from it, but was thankfully not hospitalized. He expected me to host the family, while my entire body was swollen and fatigued. I was lethargic but he didn’t care. He didn’t even offer me water. I went upstairs to nurse my baby and hid from everyone for a half hour to an hour. I wanted out. I didn’t know what to do. I just knew I didn’t want to be there....
I wish desperately that my story had a happier beginning. Almost 6 years later, I can say we had a happy ending. I left her father after he assaulted me shortly after Feather turned 13.5 months old. He assaulted me a few times before that, but this time was different. The kids saw it. My toddler saw it. I left, I ran to a friends home with nothing but a duffle bag and a car seat. He drained my account to ensure I couldn’t run away with my baby, but 3 months later, I did. I moved to Ontario and we are happier than we’ve ever been. Feather is a little genius, the most loving child but also has trauma behaviours that are being assessed. She is a warrior child, and as much as I would love to say I’ve taught her well, it is she that has taught me everything I need to know about the type of woman and mother I choose to be.
Mama Bear and Mama Wolff would like to thank Mama Raven for sharing such an incredible story with us. It is a story that we do not take lightly.
Please know that our doors are always open for anyone who needs to talk about a difficult situation in a safe judgment free environment.
The Jessica Martel Memorial Foundation personally helped in this situation. For inquires please do not hesitate to contact them, or any other organization, to receive the help you deserve.
https://jessicamartelmemorialfoundation.com
FAMILY VIOLENCE OUTREACH/SUPPORT
587-879-6125
outreach@jessicamartelmemorialfoundation.com
Please know that you are always worth a better life 💕