One of my favorite pastimes is reading birth stories – there is something magical about the days and nights when babies are born.  When Megan sent me her thoughts on all 3 of her babies’ births – ranging from traumatic to healing – I really wanted to share them.  You can see more images from sessions with Megan here.

If I’ve photographed your maternity, birth or newborn photos and you’d like me wto share your birth story – please e-mail me at heartlovephotography@live.com.

In her own words, Megan’s birth stories…

I have wanted to write my experiences about child birth for some time now. My oldest is 4, then I have a 2 year old, and my precious 5 month old. All boys. All perfect. My first pregnancy was amazing. I was on cloud 9 the moment we found out about Jackson. My husband and I had been trying to conceive for almost a year at that point, and truly…I was worried, but thankfully we had no issues. Except one. My due date. 3 weeks after my husband was to leave on his first deployment. I was OK with it. I was scared, but knew I would survive, and he would come home to a 6.5 month old. Well, my little Jackson decided to be a stubborn tush {yes, I call him that} and be breech. We found out at my 32 week appointment. I was sure his head was in my ribs, but the midwife was SURE it was his bottom. Well, I was right. She assured me he would turn, and sent me on my way. Well my next appointment was with another provider in the practice. What an amazing doctor. Just overall nice, and honest {I thought}. He wasn’t confident in turning breech babies, and I wasn’t confident at all. I didn’t know why he was breech, and frankly, I was OK with him being breech. A scheduled c-section meant I could plan. I could make sure I had help, and maybe, just maybe my husband could stay those 2 weeks till I delivered. The time came, and my husband left. I was 37 weeks pregnant with a scheduled date 2 weeks away. Such is life in the military…My mom arrived the day before I had Jackson, and I nervously prepared for his birth.

I was angry deep down inside. I wanted my husband there.  It wasn’t fair.

Jackson arrived at 8:03 in the am. Breech as breech could be.  His little head was stuck…maybe I should say big head.  The doctor allowed his birth to be filmed for my husband, and my mom was with me, and held him first.  Well after the “I am a momma” high wore off, the pain came.  Holy hairdo’s I was in pain.  I didn’t want to move, I couldn’t pick Jackson up without help, I couldn’t get out of bed…I couldn’t nurse.  It was sort of traumatic. I am pretty sure I did have a meltdown, and called the CO’s wife, and demanded my husband call me.  {Thank you Angela, you were and always will be an amazing friend}

 
Well one thing led to another…Jackson wasn’t nursing well, so I bottle fed….He was jaundice, so he needed light therapy….I went into A-Fib…off to a cardiac floor I went.

 
I wasn’t with my baby.  PPD here I come.

 
I write this with tears in my eyes because it was suppose to be an amazing time. And honestly, for me, it wasn’t.

 
I am not afraid to say I was depressed.  It was hard.  It took one day a few WEEKS later for something to click.  He was crying, and when I picked him up, he stopped, and looked at me and a calmness came over me and him.  I was his momma.  No one else.  I was all he had.

 
That was it, I think at that moment I felt the euphoric feeling most women feel at birth.  I was just then giving birth to my son.  The weeks and months passed, and I  fell more and more in love with my Jackson.  We co-slept.  My most favorite thing in the world.  Finally we welcomed our Marine home, and it was the most amazing moment.  At that moment, I watched him become a father.

 
Fast forward, and we were thrilled to find out we were expecting #2, another boy. With no deployment in sight, I was excited.  Without a lot of knowledge, I decided to take the easy road.  Another c-section.  With a midwife who assured me my uterus would explode, I was scheduled.  I was ok with it.  At 28 weeks my Logan had decided he wanted out.  We were returning from a trip to Minnesota, and when we landed contractions were 2 minutes apart.  Scared, I called my OB…they said “go to the hospital” I must have been in a daze, because I heard “come to the hospital” so we drove…an hour….to my OB.  When we arrived, they looked at me in shock.  She meant the hospital in Raleigh, because if they couldn’t stop labor, that was probably where we would end up.  As I laid there in that hospital, and the contractions kept coming, no matter how much I drank or relaxed…I was so nervous.  What would I do with a premie?  Hours passed, and finally they decided to give me steroids “just in case” for his lungs, and then a few shots to stop labor. I begged for those shots, because I have a minor heart issue.  SVT, no biggie, I just get irregular rhythms at times, but the medicine to stop labour was a drug that could send me into SVT or A-Fib again.  I knew it was the last resort, and thankfully it worked.  It worked at 28 weeks, and again at 32 weeks.  I guess he was anxious.  My little Logan arrived at 39 weeks via c-section.  He was perfect.  His daddy cried, as did I.  I think at that moment, I was at peace with Jackson’s birth 2 years prior.

 
Again, fast forward 2 years…My sweet little Everett.  #3 was on the way.  A surprise, sort of.  We were excited!  I was determined to find a doc to vba2c me.  Out here in Cali, I thought they would be all over.  Not so much.  I researched, and called a few OB’s.  My first OB didn’t do them, wouldn’t do them, and decided I was high risk.  She sent me to every single doctor known to man.  Why?  I don’t know.  A bout of pre-term labour, and a minor heart thing must have scared her ha ha ha.  I am thankful I found another  OB.  When I called, I asked if he would VBAC.  The nurse said he does {on occasion} so I thought I would give it a try.  I made the appointment, and we chatted.  He put my mind at ease and made me feel OK with a c-section.  I wasn’t broken.  I just had broken information.  I was at peace with a 3rd c-section.  My pregnancy went OK.  I was sick a lot, and fell in a hole and broke my foot, but that aside…the pregnancy flew by and finally it was time to meet #3.  I was thankful my BFF Jill flew in for the birth.  She photographed my maternity, birth & newborn pictures in a matter of a week.  She also helped me in my choice to nurse #3. I had never succeeded in nursing, but I was determined.  I am thankful for her, and her encouraging words.  5 months later he is exclusively breastfed, and a chunky monkey.  Anyway…back to his birth.

 

39 weeks…#3…3 boys all born 2 years apart…all in September!

Everett compared to his big brother as a newborn…

I do feel cheated at times…it lasts for a second. I do wish I would have experienced a natural child birth, but as I sit here with my 3 perfect boys, I realize, that I am not broken, just mis-informed, and in the end they are here and healthy, and I would do it all over again.