The Greenhouse Birth Center ~ Where families are born, gently.

Kate Elizabeth's Story

Sarah, Steve, Kate

I had a relatively easy and normal pregnancy. I had my first pre-natal appointment around 10 weeks, had genetic screening blood work at 11 and 16 weeks that reveled very low chances for the common genetic problems, had a routine ultrasound at 20 weeks showing a healthy baby who was right on track for growth and development, and I never developed gestational diabetes, pre-eclampsia or other complications. The baby (we didn't know the sex) was always moving, letting me know it was there. Based on my LMP my due date was June 2. I was hoping for a "birth day" somewhere in the single digits of June, but was expecting to go past my due date.

June 2nd sailed past. June 9th sailed past. I learned that a woman from my birth class, who was due on the 15th, had her baby a few days after my due date. I started getting the concerned phone calls from family members. I was big, and a little uncomfortable (and very puffy), but being overdue wasn't too hard. I had stopped working around my due date so I spent two weeks hanging out at home. We tried the typical natural induction methods, but I never even really felt Braxton hicks contractions, much less real ones. Around 10 days overdue I was tired of waiting and was ready to finally meet my baby.

Somewhere around 12 days overdue (on June 14th) I had an appointment at the birth center. We decided to schedule a biophysical profile at MSU to make sure that things were still OK in there for the baby. The scan went well, although the tech couldn't believe that "my doctor wasn't letting me have this baby yet!" We went over the results at the birth center a day or two later. The biophysical profile score was 8 out of 8. The total amount of fluid was also measured and was slightly below normal (the lower end of normal for total fluid is 5 and my total fluid was below that, but not much). We met with Kip again at the birth center a few days after the biophysical profile. I was now 15 days past my due date and we decided to strip my membranes and to start using some homeopathics to encourage labor. Unfortunately, my cervix was not favorably positioned and Kip couldn't strip my membranes. I also had not dilated at all.

The next day (Saturday, 16 days overdue) Steve and I spent the day being pretty lazy. Well at least I was lazy (Steve was working on finishing up a kitchen renovation). The good thing was that I finally started feeling some consistent crampiness. Sometime in the evening I thought I was having contractions, and they were getting more uncomfortable. All of the sensation was in my lower back. I took a shower, tried the birth ball, but after a few hours felt like I needed to call Kip. I didn't feel like things were imminent, but felt like this was real and wanted to let her know. We expected the baby to be posterior because the baby's butt was in the upper right quadrant instead of the left. The pain was significant, but it was also just an incredibly uncomfortable feeling that I wanted to stop. As time went on I didn't really feel anything in the front, it was only my back that hurt. Finally, Steve and I met Kip at the birth center around midnight.

The good news was that I was in real labor. The bad news was that it was pretty early. I was 2-3 cm dilated, fully effaced, and +1 station. I quickly learned that back labor really sucks. I couldn't sit down comfortably…and lying down didn't work well for me either (although looking back I should have tried to rest a little more). So that left me pacing and bending over the side of the bed. Counter pressure didn't really do much for me. Light touch felt better, but I had a hard time telling Steve what I wanted.

I asked to try the tub. I knew it was a little early, but really wanted to try something. When I got checked a couple of hours later, I was still 2-3, which was hard to hear. At some point I started alternating between sitting on the toilet (thoroughly cleaning out my intestines, having bloody show, and finally finding a sitting position that was acceptable), pacing, and in the tub (I mostly l had to be in a hands and knees position in the tub). I found the tub to feel really good the first time I got in, but after that it felt more just like a welcome change in experience, but not quite the "natural epidural" that some women talk about.

Kip checked me again around 4 am (my waters hadn't broken at this point, so we were checking my cervix every 2 hours or so). I think by this point I was finally 4 centimeters. I think I was also +2 station now. No wonder sitting was not my favorite position to be in!

By around 7 am I had dilated to 5 centimeters and had found that my only real relief came from moaning. I tried to only moan when I needed it (during peaks of contractions) but it was hard to stop. Kip reminded me to stop when I forgot, which was often. It was also hard to remember to slow my breathing. I was still alternating between the tub, toilet, and pacing. I added a little bit of time in the glider, but mostly just because I was sooo tired. I needed some rest and I think I made it through a couple of 15-minute sessions in the glider. At one point, a little before 7 as the sun was coming up and I was pacing, while Kip and Steve were both resting, I remember feeling very jealous. I wanted to rest and sleep so badly. Around this time it was hard for me to distinguish individual contractions. My back hurt all of the time and then sometimes it hurt a lot more. The pain never stopped. For me, there were no rest periods with back labor, and that was hard for me to accept.

A little before 9 am I was in the tub leaning back and Kip found that the baby's heart beat had gone down. This was our first sign of any problems. Kip got me out of the tub and onto the bed on my side (I think my right side). We rechecked the baby's HR, and it was back up some. Clarice got there soon afterwards, but I think Kip was already thinking we should transfer to the hospital. Kip had Clarice check me, and she agreed I was still 5 centimeters, with bulging waters. Clarice heard the same heart rate we had heard throughout the night (~150), but the variability was not ideal. While Clarice was examining me, my water broke. And there was meconium. The heart rate dip, lack of variability and the presence of meconium all indicated that I needed more continuous monitoring than the birth center is able to provide.

We left for the hospital in our own vehicles at 9:38 am. Why I looked at the clock I don't know. I think I was telling myself that by 10 am I would be at the hospital and at least this part of my labor experience would be over. The 15-minute drive to the hospital was very hard for me. The roads were pretty clear since it was a Sunday morning, but I hated every red light with a passion. Before we left, I remember being ok with the transfer and pushing back the wave of panic about the baby. When we were leaving the birth center, I could only be in the moment and didn't or couldn't think too much further into the future. I think the worst case scenario in my mind at this point in time was ending up with a c-section.

We got to the hospital a little before 10am on June 19th, 2005 (Father's Day). I followed Kip into the hospital, while Steve and Clarice dealt with cars, finding my wallet, etc. Kip had called ahead to let OB know we were coming. We headed up to the 3rd floor and were ushered into a room. The walk into the hospital was challenging… I remember a part of me just thinking "OK, we're at the hospital now. I don't have to keep doing this anymore." A part of me wanted the hospital staff to just make it better, to make the pain go away so I could rest.

The main goal in the first few minutes in OB triage was to start continuous monitoring to see how the baby was doing. We began with external monitoring. After ~45 minutes of this, the OB staff were seeing the same things that the midwives had observed: a strong heartbeat, but less than ideal variability. We started internal monitoring and decided to try a pitocin challenge to see if it would lead to better heart rate variability. Before they could start the pitocin, I had to get an epidural.

During the hour and a half or so in the triage OB room I have a few strange memories. I remember an OB student (male) asking if I was OK with him in the room. I was definitely at the point where I did not care who was in the room. I remember changing into a hospital gown when we first got there and having no reservations about just pulling my tank top off and dropping my pants to my feet (assuming someone would help get them off all of the way when they wanted them off). When the internal monitors were in, but before the epidural, I was standing next to the bed attached to many wires and tubes, hanging on Steve, moaning, and obsessing about whether I was going to the bathroom with every contraction. Because of the presence of meconium, the hospital staff had started an amnioinfusion (a saline solution being infused into my uterus) and that was what was gushing out of me, but it felt like I was continuously going to the bathroom.

Within minutes of starting the epidural, but before the pitocin was started, I had a tetanic contraction (one that didn't stop) and was given a shot to try to stop the contraction. We then proceeded to a STAT c-section because my blood pressure was dropping and the baby was obviously in very serious distress. My epidural drugs were swapped out for a spinal block. I was taken out of the room and wheeled towards the OR. Someone threw some scrubs at Steve and he joined me at some point in the OR. I vaguely remember leaving the room and seeing the look on Steve's face and knowing that he didn't completely understand what was happening at that moment.

I don't remember what I was feeling while being wheeled down the hallway or while waiting in the OR for surgery to begin. It has become a wavy memory. I think I was scared, but also sort of in that "OK, this will be OK, just go with it" state of mind. My lack of sleep, physical pain, emotional and physical shock, and many drugs all made the whole experience surreal.

The OB staff made sure the block was working. I didn't feel the incision, but felt a lot when they were trying to deliver the baby. The baby was big and already low in my pelvis, which made it a difficult c-section delivery with a lot of "manipulation". At some point someone said, "The baby is out." I don't remember much at that moment. I don't remember if I was worried about not hearing a cry. I don't think I really understood the emergent nature of the baby's birth. I think I thought that after the baby came out everything would be OK. After awhile, I remember asking if it was a girl or a boy. "It's a girl," someone said. And later we learned that she was pretty big... 10 lbs 11 oz.

I was in and out of it during the remainder of my surgery. I slept at some point. I was really tired and had a lot of drugs in me. At some point I woke up and was still laying in the OR. I got the shakes and couldn't keep my arms on the arm extenders. I felt sick and threw up a little bit of food, even though I hadn't eaten in about 15 hours.

At some point they realized my uterus had ruptured. At first they didn't see the rupture and kept giving me drugs to make my uterus contract down (pitocin, cytotec, and other drugs), but it remained non-firm. Finally, while manipulating/massaging my uterus, there was a gush of blood and they found the rupture in the back. The only part of this I remember is the OB staff talking about getting a camera to take a picture. I guess the placement of the rupture was rare and they wanted to document it for teaching purposes. So, the rupture was repaired and my abdomen was sewn up.

The OBs wanted to make sure my bladder had not been damaged from the speedy c-section and were trying to use an endoscope to evaluate it. From what I've come to understand from Steve's description of what happened, the light source wasn't working correctly and they weren't convinced that there weren't any problems. At some point in here they also did an x-ray to check for missing sponges (because of the emergency the normal counts before the procedure had started hadn't been done) and found one! So they opened me back up, removed the sponge from somewhere up near my ribs, and opened up my bladder to check for damage. My bladder ended up being fine.

So my C-section lasted 4 hours. I left the OR with a catheter, an abdominal drainage tube, an interjugular tube (they had to use my neck because they blew out all of my veins in my non-IV arm), an epidural line, and an IV. I received four units of blood, had my stomach opened up twice, and had a vertical incision (classical C-section vs. bikini cut they typically do now) to remove my very distressed daughter.

Before I left the OR (maybe it was a dream while I was sleeping), I thought I heard someone tell Steve that the baby had died. But she hadn't, not yet.

I was in recovery for over two hours. I was very sleepy. One of the midwives stayed with me and one went up with Steve to the NICU. I can't even remember clearly who stayed with me. Clarice, I think. (Kip and Clarice both stayed at the hospital during the surgery). A doctor tried to talk to me about what had happened during surgery. Someone else tried to talk to me about the baby and how she wasn't doing well. I wasn't aware of the amount of time she had been resuscitated at this point. I later learned that Kate was born without a heartbeat and was resuscitated for 15 minutes before she got one. Her apgar scores were 0, 0, 0, 1, 4 at 1, 5, 10, 15, 20 minutes. Kate never breathed on her own and only opened her eyes once when she was being incubated. Many of these details I learned when I read Kate's hospital records and autopsy report two months after her birth and death.

Steve came back down from the NICU. We talked about a name. The name that had been running around in my drugged-up head was Kate Elizabeth. So that became her name. I forgot until later that there were other names higher on the "list", but we weren't really in a place for a logical discussion.

After a couple of hours in recovery, I was wheeled up to the NICU in my hospital bed and saw Kate for the first time. I could only see her hand and the side of her body because I was reclined. After a few minutes, machines started beeping and Steve and I had to leave the room. When we were brought back in, the NICU staff told us that there wasn't anything else they could do. Kate's lungs just weren't transferring enough oxygen to her blood stream no matter what they did. They disconnected most of her tubes and swaddled her and let Steve and I hold her. We checked for a heartbeat after a few more minutes and she didn't have one. Kate looked like me and had big feet. She had more hair than I had expected (most of the babies in my family are mostly bald when they are born.) She also had dry skin because she had soaked up all of her vernix.

I think a shocking delivery, becoming a mother for the first time, meeting my daughter and saying good-bye to her all within a few hours is still something I am still trying to wrap my head around. I don't know if I really knew that you could be healthy, with an uncomplicated pregnancy, go into labor on your own, and still have your baby die. Kate's official cause of death is meconium aspiration. We will never know the extent that the uterine rupture played in Kate's death, although I think it was a factor in the amount of meconium she aspirated, and the amount of trauma she went through before she was delivered.

It has been eight months since Kate was born. I have spent this time wondering many things. I wonder if my uterus could have ruptured at the birth center, and if I would have died. I wonder if, had I gone to a standard OB office, if we would have had the same outcome. I wonder if I had decided to have a C-section soon after getting to the hospital if Kate would have been OK. I wonder what my life would be like now if I had a baby at home. I wonder when and if my bitterness/anger/sadness/isolation will release their hold on me. Most of all I wonder what my daughter would be like now, what her personality would have been like, and what Steve would be like as a father. On top of this I have started to wonder about the future and future pregnancies and babies. In order to move forward I have to accept that there are never any guarantees and that as natural as birth is, death is also natural and always possible.


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Kate Elizabeth's Story Sarah, Steve, Kate I had a relatively easy and normal pregnancy. I had my first pre-natal appointment around 10 weeks, had genetic screening blood work at 11 and 16 weeks that reveled very low chances for the common genetic problems, had a routine ultrasound at 20 weeks showing a healthy baby who was right on track for growth and development, and I never developed gestational diabetes, pre-eclampsia or other complications. The baby (we didn't know the sex) was always moving, letting me know it was there. Based on my LMP my due date was June 2. I was hoping for a "birth day" somewhere in the single digits of June, but was expecting to go past my due date. June 2nd sailed past. June 9th sailed past. I learned that a woman from my birth class, who was due on the 15th, had her baby a few days after my due date. I started getting the concerned phone calls from family members. I was big, and a little uncomfortable (and very puffy), but being overdue wasn't too hard. I had stopped working around my due date so I spent two weeks hanging out at home. We tried the typical natural induction methods, but I never even really felt Braxton hicks contractions, much less real ones. Around 10 days overdue I was tired of waiting and was ready to finally meet my baby. Somewhere around 12 days overdue (on June 14th) I had an appointment at the birth center. We decided to schedule a biophysical profile at MSU to make sure that things were still OK in there for the baby. The scan went well, although the tech couldn't believe that "my doctor wasn't letting me have this baby yet!" We went over the results at the birth center a day or two later. The biophysical profile score was 8 out of 8. The total amount of fluid was also measured and was slightly below normal (the lower end of normal for total fluid is 5 and my total fluid was below that, but not much). We met with Kip again at the birth center a few days after the biophysical profile. I was now 15 days past my due date and we decided to strip my membranes and to start using some homeopathics to encourage labor. Unfortunately, my cervix was not favorably positioned and Kip couldn't strip my membranes. I also had not dilated at all. The next day (Saturday, 16 days overdue) Steve and I spent the day being pretty lazy. Well at least I was lazy (Steve was working on finishing up a kitchen renovation). The good thing was that I finally started feeling some consistent crampiness. Sometime in the evening I thought I was having contractions, and they were getting more uncomfortable. All of the sensation was in my lower back. I took a shower, tried the birth ball, but after a few hours felt like I needed to call Kip. I didn't feel like things were imminent, but felt like this was real and wanted to let her know. We expected the baby to be posterior because the baby's butt was in the upper right quadrant instead of the left. The pain was significant, but it was also just an incredibly uncomfortable feeling that I wanted to stop. As time went on I didn't really feel anything in the front, it was only my back that hurt. Finally, Steve and I met Kip at the birth center around midnight. The good news was that I was in real labor. The bad news was that it was pretty early. I was 2-3 cm dilated, fully effaced, and +1 station. I quickly learned that back labor really sucks. I couldn't sit down comfortably…and lying down didn't work well for me either (although looking back I should have tried to rest a little more). So that left me pacing and bending over the side of the bed. Counter pressure didn't really do much for me. Light touch felt better, but I had a hard time telling Steve what I wanted. I asked to try the tub. I knew it was a little early, but really wanted to try something. When I got checked a couple of hours later, I was still 2-3, which was hard to hear. At some point I started alternating between sitting on the toilet (thoroughly cleaning out my intestines, having bloody show, and finally finding a sitting position that was acceptable), pacing, and in the tub (I mostly l had to be in a hands and knees position in the tub). I found the tub to feel really good the first time I got in, but after that it felt more just like a welcome change in experience, but not quite the "natural epidural" that some women talk about. Kip checked me again around 4 am (my waters hadn't broken at this point, so we were checking my cervix every 2 hours or so). I think by this point I was finally 4 centimeters. I think I was also +2 station now. No wonder sitting was not my favorite position to be in! By around 7 am I had dilated to 5 centimeters and had found that my only real relief came from moaning. I tried to only moan when I needed it (during peaks of contractions) but it was hard to stop. Kip reminded me to stop when I forgot, which was often. It was also hard to remember to slow my breathing. I was still alternating between the tub, toilet, and pacing. I added a little bit of time in the glider, but mostly just because I was sooo tired. I needed some rest and I think I made it through a couple of 15-minute sessions in the glider. At one point, a little before 7 as the sun was coming up and I was pacing, while Kip and Steve were both resting, I remember feeling very jealous. I wanted to rest and sleep so badly. Around this time it was hard for me to distinguish individual contractions. My back hurt all of the time and then sometimes it hurt a lot more. The pain never stopped. For me, there were no rest periods with back labor, and that was hard for me to accept. A little before 9 am I was in the tub leaning back and Kip found that the baby's heart beat had gone down. This was our first sign of any problems. Kip got me out of the tub and onto the bed on my side (I think my right side). We rechecked the baby's HR, and it was back up some. Clarice got there soon afterwards, but I think Kip was already thinking we should transfer to the hospital. Kip had Clarice check me, and she agreed I was still 5 centimeters, with bulging waters. Clarice heard the same heart rate we had heard throughout the night (~150), but the variability was not ideal. While Clarice was examining me, my water broke. And there was meconium. The heart rate dip, lack of variability and the presence of meconium all indicated that I needed more continuous monitoring than the birth center is able to provide. We left for the hospital in our own vehicles at 9:38 am. Why I looked at the clock I don't know. I think I was telling myself that by 10 am I would be at the hospital and at least this part of my labor experience would be over. The 15-minute drive to the hospital was very hard for me. The roads were pretty clear since it was a Sunday morning, but I hated every red light with a passion. Before we left, I remember being ok with the transfer and pushing back the wave of panic about the baby. When we were leaving the birth center, I could only be in the moment and didn't or couldn't think too much further into the future. I think the worst case scenario in my mind at this point in time was ending up with a c-section. We got to the hospital a little before 10am on June 19th, 2005 (Father's Day). I followed Kip into the hospital, while Steve and Clarice dealt with cars, finding my wallet, etc. Kip had called ahead to let OB know we were coming. We headed up to the 3rd floor and were ushered into a room. The walk into the hospital was challenging… I remember a part of me just thinking "OK, we're at the hospital now. I don't have to keep doing this anymore." A part of me wanted the hospital staff to just make it better, to make the pain go away so I could rest. The main goal in the first few minutes in OB triage was to start continuous monitoring to see how the baby was doing. We began with external monitoring. After ~45 minutes of this, the OB staff were seeing the same things that the midwives had observed: a strong heartbeat, but less than ideal variability. We started internal monitoring and decided to try a pitocin challenge to see if it would lead to better heart rate variability. Before they could start the pitocin, I had to get an epidural. During the hour and a half or so in the triage OB room I have a few strange memories. I remember an OB student (male) asking if I was OK with him in the room. I was definitely at the point where I did not care who was in the room. I remember changing into a hospital gown when we first got there and having no reservations about just pulling my tank top off and dropping my pants to my feet (assuming someone would help get them off all of the way when they wanted them off). When the internal monitors were in, but before the epidural, I was standing next to the bed attached to many wires and tubes, hanging on Steve, moaning, and obsessing about whether I was going to the bathroom with every contraction. Because of the presence of meconium, the hospital staff had started an amnioinfusion (a saline solution being infused into my uterus) and that was what was gushing out of me, but it felt like I was continuously going to the bathroom. Within minutes of starting the epidural, but before the pitocin was started, I had a tetanic contraction (one that didn't stop) and was given a shot to try to stop the contraction. We then proceeded to a STAT c-section because my blood pressure was dropping and the baby was obviously in very serious distress. My epidural drugs were swapped out for a spinal block. I was taken out of the room and wheeled towards the OR. Someone threw some scrubs at Steve and he joined me at some point in the OR. I vaguely remember leaving the room and seeing the look on Steve's face and knowing that he didn't completely understand what was happening at that moment. I don't remember what I was feeling while being wheeled down the hallway or while waiting in the OR for surgery to begin. It has become a wavy memory. I think I was scared, but also sort of in that "OK, this will be OK, just go with it" state of mind. My lack of sleep, physical pain, emotional and physical shock, and many drugs all made the whole experience surreal. The OB staff made sure the block was working. I didn't feel the incision, but felt a lot when they were trying to deliver the baby. The baby was big and already low in my pelvis, which made it a difficult c-section delivery with a lot of "manipulation". At some point someone said, "The baby is out." I don't remember much at that moment. I don't remember if I was worried about not hearing a cry. I don't think I really understood the emergent nature of the baby's birth. I think I thought that after the baby came out everything would be OK. After awhile, I remember asking if it was a girl or a boy. "It's a girl," someone said. And later we learned that she was pretty big... 10 lbs 11 oz. I was in and out of it during the remainder of my surgery. I slept at some point. I was really tired and had a lot of drugs in me. At some point I woke up and was still laying in the OR. I got the shakes and couldn't keep my arms on the arm extenders. I felt sick and threw up a little bit of food, even though I hadn't eaten in about 15 hours. At some point they realized my uterus had ruptured. At first they didn't see the rupture and kept giving me drugs to make my uterus contract down (pitocin, cytotec, and other drugs), but it remained non-firm. Finally, while manipulating/massaging my uterus, there was a gush of blood and they found the rupture in the back. The only part of this I remember is the OB staff talking about getting a camera to take a picture. I guess the placement of the rupture was rare and they wanted to document it for teaching purposes. So, the rupture was repaired and my abdomen was sewn up. The OBs wanted to make sure my bladder had not been damaged from the speedy c-section and were trying to use an endoscope to evaluate it. From what I've come to understand from Steve's description of what happened, the light source wasn't working correctly and they weren't convinced that there weren't any problems. At some point in here they also did an x-ray to check for missing sponges (because of the emergency the normal counts before the procedure had started hadn't been done) and found one! So they opened me back up, removed the sponge from somewhere up near my ribs, and opened up my bladder to check for damage. My bladder ended up being fine. So my C-section lasted 4 hours. I left the OR with a catheter, an abdominal drainage tube, an interjugular tube (they had to use my neck because they blew out all of my veins in my non-IV arm), an epidural line, and an IV. I received four units of blood, had my stomach opened up twice, and had a vertical incision (classical C-section vs. bikini cut they typically do now) to remove my very distressed daughter. Before I left the OR (maybe it was a dream while I was sleeping), I thought I heard someone tell Steve that the baby had died. But she hadn't, not yet. I was in recovery for over two hours. I was very sleepy. One of the midwives stayed with me and one went up with Steve to the NICU. I can't even remember clearly who stayed with me. Clarice, I think. (Kip and Clarice both stayed at the hospital during the surgery). A doctor tried to talk to me about what had happened during surgery. Someone else tried to talk to me about the baby and how she wasn't doing well. I wasn't aware of the amount of time she had been resuscitated at this point. I later learned that Kate was born without a heartbeat and was resuscitated for 15 minutes before she got one. Her apgar scores were 0, 0, 0, 1, 4 at 1, 5, 10, 15, 20 minutes. Kate never breathed on her own and only opened her eyes once when she was being incubated. Many of these details I learned when I read Kate's hospital records and autopsy report two months after her birth and death. Steve came back down from the NICU. We talked about a name. The name that had been running around in my drugged-up head was Kate Elizabeth. So that became her name. I forgot until later that there were other names higher on the "list", but we weren't really in a place for a logical discussion. After a couple of hours in recovery, I was wheeled up to the NICU in my hospital bed and saw Kate for the first time. I could only see her hand and the side of her body because I was reclined. After a few minutes, machines started beeping and Steve and I had to leave the room. When we were brought back in, the NICU staff told us that there wasn't anything else they could do. Kate's lungs just weren't transferring enough oxygen to her blood stream no matter what they did. They disconnected most of her tubes and swaddled her and let Steve and I hold her. We checked for a heartbeat after a few more minutes and she didn't have one. Kate looked like me and had big feet. She had more hair than I had expected (most of the babies in my family are mostly bald when they are born.) She also had dry skin because she had soaked up all of her vernix. I think a shocking delivery, becoming a mother for the first time, meeting my daughter and saying good-bye to her all within a few hours is still something I am still trying to wrap my head around. I don't know if I really knew that you could be healthy, with an uncomplicated pregnancy, go into labor on your own, and still have your baby die. Kate's official cause of death is meconium aspiration. We will never know the extent that the uterine rupture played in Kate's death, although I think it was a factor in the amount of meconium she aspirated, and the amount of trauma she went through before she was delivered. It has been eight months since Kate was born. I have spent this time wondering many things. I wonder if my uterus could have ruptured at the birth center, and if I would have died. I wonder if, had I gone to a standard OB office, if we would have had the same outcome. I wonder if I had decided to have a C-section soon after getting to the hospital if Kate would have been OK. I wonder what my life would be like now if I had a baby at home. I wonder when and if my bitterness/anger/sadness/isolation will release their hold on me. Most of all I wonder what my daughter would be like now, what her personality would have been like, and what Steve would be like as a father. On top of this I have started to wonder about the future and future pregnancies and babies. In order to move forward I have to accept that there are never any guarantees and that as natural as birth is, death is also natural and always possible.
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