A beautiful, peaceful labor with a fun twist

Our baby girl was due on Tuesday, August 29. I was hoping she would be a September baby since fall is my favorite season. But as the date approached, I was showing no signs of labor and starting to get nervous. My pregnancy had been easier than I expected--no morning sickness or other complications—and I was convinced I would have a difficult delivery to make up for it.

On the day she was due, Chris and I went to Dr. Stradtman’s office for my 40-week ultrasound. I asked the ultrasound tech to double check that she was a girl. At that point we hadn’t decided on a name, though we had a couple options we were both happy with. While the ultrasound looked fine and so did the non-stress test, doctor said I wasn’t dilated. I left that appointment feeling spooked and out of control. We decided to wait another week and see if labor would begin on its own, even though we were already discussing the possibility of induction.

Chris and I had met our doula, Aimee, early on in the pregnancy. I liked the idea that Chris knows me, and Aimee knows birth, and so the two of them together could support me well. I imagined that labor would begin at home in the middle of the night, and that Aimee would join us and we would all make the decision to go to the hospital together. I listened to many, many hours of The Birth Hour podcast throughout my pregnancy, so despite my planning I knew that everything going accordingly was unlikely! 

Very early on I knew I wanted to aim for a non-medicated labor. I liked the idea of working with my body’s own pain-relief abilities. I’ve never felt very comfortable around babies, and wanted help from the bonding hormones I heard were triggered during a natural delivery. Once when I was explaining my desire for an unmedicated birth to Chris, I used a Lord of the Rings analogy (not surprising to anyone who knows us). Many have asked why Frodo and Sam couldn’t have ridden the eagles to Mount Doom right from the beginning. Why go on such a long and difficult journey? (There are several good answers that I won’t go into here, much to everyone’s relief!) Without the journey and its dangers, there would be no story. When it came to birth, I wanted the opportunity to face the pain and, what’s worse, the fear of pain as part of my journey.

After that 40 week appointment when I got scared, Aimee and I stayed in touch more or less daily. At this point my goal was to get labor started on its own as I desperately wanted to avoid induction and the “cascade of interventions” that I believed would make it much harder to have a natural birth. The 40-week ultrasound revealed that our baby was in the occiput posterior positon, meaning she was “sunny side up” facing my front. Aimee explained that position can indicate a slow start to labor, back labor, and other less-than-ideal birth situations, so I researched ways to encourage baby to flip over. I started off with bouncing on an exercise ball and trying my best to always lean slightly forward. Aimee also suggested a massage, and two days after baby was due I had a lovely massage with Adrian Ward and she gave me a sheet to take home with some pressure points to work on. Chris helped me with those, and in the meantime I drank double-strength Red Raspberry tea and ate pineapple. We joked about it being Labor Day weekend and the perfect time to have the baby, but no signs of labor were forthcoming!

That Sunday, my grandfather arrived in town on a cross-country motorcycle ride that had been planned before we told him about my pregnancy. He stayed with us on Sunday night, and on Monday we explored some of Birmingham together. With my mom, grandpa, and in-laws, we had a houseful for dinner that night, and to celebrate my in-laws’ anniversary we had cupcakes from Publix and watched Father of the Bride Part 2. During the scene where Steve Martin’s daughter Annie is in labor, I remember  my mother-in-law saying “you chose this movie!” But it just felt like the right thing to watch, and it’s always been a favorite of mine. As it turns out, that was the last movie I saw before giving birth myself.

Tuesday morning was our 41 week appointment, which started out with another ultrasound and the good news that baby had indeed flipped over and was now facing my back. We celebrated that and were not too discouraged when doctor checked me and found out I was not dilated any more than the previous week. Aimee had prepared us to ask good questions, and when we decided to schedule an induction for Thursday morning, September 7, it felt like our choice. When we got home and Chris had gone back to work, I researched what happened in history on September 7 and was pleased to discover it was the birthday of Elizabeth the First. I texted Chris “that’s good enough for me” and took it as a good sign that even though things were not going according to plan, all would be well.

Because I was not dilated enough for the induction, I was instructed to come to the hospital on Wednesday the 6th at 4:00 so I could be prepped. That afternoon I walked to mom’s house to have lunch with her and grandpa. The night before I had been lying awake praying and thinking, and the idea came to me to ask grandpa to give me a ride to the hospital on his motorcycle. Earlier during his stay, he told us the story of getting my grandmother to the hospital in Germany when my dad was born. It involved an army ambulance breaking down and grandpa having to flag down a passing car, which turned out to be the military police! My dad owned motorcycles too, and though he died two and a half years ago, when I had this idea it seemed like a special way to include him and his dad in the birth of their granddaughter/great-granddaughter.

When I asked grandpa if he would mind taking me to the hospital that afternoon, my mom was none too pleased and asked if it was OK with my husband! I had asked Chris about it first, and since he and grandpa were fine with the idea there was nothing to stop us. As grandpa said, “I don’t know as we need your permission!” Maybe as a mother I would feel the same in her place, but compared to what was ahead of me, a 10 minute ride on a Harley Tri-glide didn’t seem frightening in the least. So that was settled, and after a good talk and prayer with mom and grandpa I walked back home to find Chris working in the yard.

I set about doing my final packing for the hospital, when I started to feel something like cramps. It was about 2:00 and I started timing the contractions. I began texting Aimee updates and was excited and relieved to see more signs that labor was beginning on its own. The contractions continued, but I wanted to stick with my plan to ride the motorcycle and I made Chris promise not to let on that I might be in labor. So I put the helmet on, got on the bike none-too-gracefully, and grandpa and I set out following mom and Chris driving our Hyundai.

It was a perfectly beautiful fall afternoon, and the fresh air felt wonderful as we rode through Homewood. At the intersection of Greensprings and Lakeshore, we stopped at a red light and a couple young guys admired the bike but tactfully didn’t say anything about the huge pregnant person on it. The rumble of the engine felt great on my back, and I felt so peaceful. I had no idea I was only about eight hours away from holding my daughter, but sensed this was a good start to the story of her birth.

Once we arrived at Brookwood, we spent a bit of time in the waiting area, and I was glad for all the childbirth classes we took since by that time I was very comfortable around the hospital. Before too long we got settled in our room and met our nurse, Kerri Ann. We had brought a laptop and selection of DVDs thinking we may have a long night ahead waiting for the induction, but my contractions continued to progress. I got changed into a hospital gown, and we started trying to watch an episode of West Wing. Dr. Stradtman checked me and confirmed that I was indeed in labor and there was no need to proceed with the induction.

Chris would help me by counting aloud through each contraction; sometimes we would count together and sometimes I just listened. I would look at and squeeze a Weeble toy that my dad had had during his cancer treatments and remember him saying “Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down.” Around 7:30 my water broke. I went to the bathroom to change and realized the pair of the fuzzy socks I’d brought from home were ruined. The amniotic fluid had meconium in it, which meant a respiratory specialist would need to be present at delivery to make sure baby’s lungs were clear. As I continued to labor, Chris gave me sips of water from a fancy bottle he’d just purchased at the hospital gift shop. We decided to call Aimee and ask her to join us, still having no idea how long I still had to go. At one point I threw up, and right after that Aimee walked in the door around 9:30. She just took it all in stride.

From that point I don’t know exactly how events strung together. Both Aimee and Chris were calm and matter-of-fact, and helped me feel like I was doing hard but normal work. Aimee paid attention to the noises I made during contractions and encouraged me to make low pitched sounds rather than more frantic sounding higher ones. I leaned on this advice through almost every contraction and, while it was a little embarrassing, the groaning helped me do something in response to the pain. I was connected a monitor that allowed me to move freely while the hospital staff could keep an eye on how baby was coping.

For a while I leaned over the bathroom sink and ran warm water over my hands every time I contracted. I also sat by myself, with the door mostly closed and Aimee and Chris out talking in the main room. This was how I wanted labor to go, with life happening around me and no one fussing over me every minute. I don’t know how long I was in the bathroom, but when I came out it was hard to walk and I got down on all fours right there on the floor. Aimee said afterwards that she thought I had gone through transition (generally considered the most intense phase of labor) there in the bathroom. I said I felt something hard. Aimee asked what it was and I said “baby’s head?” like I didn’t believe that was possible yet.

Not knowing how long the contractions would continue and how much worse they would get was the hardest part for me. Aimee encouraged me several times with “that contraction is over. You’ll never have that one again.” I was more or less on all fours again, this time on the hospital bed, when I said I didn’t think I could do it. Aimee said that’s what she often hears right before the baby arrives. Someone checked me, and I couldn’t believe it when I heard I was about 9 centimeters and it was almost time to push. I got scared again because I was sure pushing would hurt worse. Dr. Stradtman was there, and soon they put an oxygen mask on me because baby wasn’t responding well to the contractions. I remember being afraid that I would throw up while wearing the mask, but I didn’t. I have a clear memory of locking eyes with Chris like he was a rope I was holding onto to keep myself from drowning.

Soon everyone was telling me to push. Remembering what I’d learned about September 7th being Elizabeth I’s birthday, I asked what time it was and they said 11:40. I didn’t want my daughter to be born too soon and miss having September 7th as her birthday. I remember Dr. Stradtman saying that this could take a while and feeling discouraged. Someone asked me what pictures I wanted taken but I didn’t answer—I was too focused and at that point couldn’t imagine wanting any pictures of this gruesome process! Soon doctor was asking permission to do an episiotomy, which was something I had wanted to avoid but knew that it was the right decision in the moment. Then it seemed like no time at all until I suddenly saw my baby. She was born at 12:21 a.m. on September 7th. My first impressions were that she had a lot of brown hair and looked like Chris’s dad! They handed her to me and she almost immediately began to nurse. I felt such a combination of relief that labor was over and disbelief that this person—all 8 pounds 9 ounces of her—had been inside me! Aimee took photos of those first moments and stayed with us until we were feeling settled. I don’t think she left until after 2 a.m., and I was so grateful for her dedication to us throughout that night.

One thing I’d spent a lot of time on during pregnancy was assembling a labor playlist on Spotify. I called it “Chapter 1: I am Born” after the David Copperfield quote I’d recently seen on Etsy. The first song Chris and I remember hearing after our daughter was born was Bruce Springsteen’s “The River.” All Bruce’s music is special to me because of my dad, but that song in particular is one of my and Chris’s favorites. Later I found out that while we were preparing for the motorcycle trip to the hospital, my mother in law had been to Walgreens and decided to get a Coke – a rare treat. She reached into the case and without knowing it pulled out a bottle with my dad’s name, Randy, on it. She saved the bottle, and I have it in the nursery as a reminder of how God brought about every detail of baby’s arrival in a beautiful way only He could orchestrate. He even included my dad.

I have such fond memories of our entire stay at Brookwood, from the little things like the plastic cup full of graham cracker packets to the overall cozy feeling that settled around the three of us in that recovery room. It was there that we not only introduced our daughter to her grandparents and saw her anointed by our rector, but that we finally, hours after her birth, decided on her name.

Welcome, Elanor Alice! Your story has a wonderful beginning.

First baby, natural birth!

My husband and I were surprised to find out that we were expecting our first child. Timing was less than ideal because we were both working full-time and in graduate school. As soon as reality set in I began doing all that I could to prepare for pregnancy, labor, and delivery. It had been a long-time dream of mine to have a natural childbirth, and after a friend recommended Gentle Childbirth Services to me I knew I wanted to learn more. My husband was skeptical at first. “I was worried about the money and I thought they [doulas] were crazy” were his words. As a medical professional, research and evidence-based practice is important to me, so I spent hours researching the evidence behind doulas and natural childbirth. Surprised by my findings that supported these topics, my husband agreed to at least meet with a doula.

We read the online bios and were drawn to Heather. We were drawn to Heather because of her emphasis on education and knowledge and the fact that she had birthed six children. After meeting with Heather, it was clear that we wanted her to be with us throughout our first pregnancy and delivery. She made me feel calm and empowered. I knew I could trust her, and I knew she cared deeply about our family. My husband was comfortable around her and was surprised at how “normal” she was.

After each prenatal appointment I always looked forward to getting Heather’s encouragement and advice. My pregnancy was fairly easy with no major issues. Before we knew it we were 37 weeks pregnant with our first son, Harrison. I was already dilated and Harrison was already engaged, so I was convinced he was going to arrive before his due date. I was antsy and nervous. Heather was able to provide such a peaceful and calm milieu during this time.

I was 39 weeks and 6 days. I had tried everything to get Harrison to make his arrival—long walks, spicy food, etc. I was so discouraged and frustrated, often wondering what I was doing wrong. Heather reminded me that the Lord’s timing is perfect, that Harrison was safe, and to trust in my body and its ability. She was available 24/7 for my questions and concerns. This was priceless.

I was 40 weeks pregnant. It was 2:00am on July 28, 2017- Harrison’s due date. My husband had to convince me that I was in labor. “You can control your bladder, Anna. That was your water breaking- not urine,” he said. I was in denial until the contractions started. We timed each contraction on a contraction/labor app. I sent Heather screen shots of each of them. It was 4:30 and I found myself nervous. I wanted to know how Harrison was doing and if I was making progress. Heather, my husband, and I decided it was time to head to the hospital.

We arrived to Brookwood at 5:00am. Heather arrived at 5:30am. Dr. Kennedy was there by 6:30. I was 6cm dilated.

The labor was rough. I spent most of my time in the shower with Heather and Evan adjusting the shower head depending on where my contractions were the worst. I spent 40 minutes of each hour laboring in the shower. The other 20 minutes I spent on the monitor so we could keep track of Harrison. Heather was so kind and gracious to my nurses. I had 2 nurses- one was training. When the contractions were bad, Heather would gently remind me to lower my voice and to breathe. I would have held my breath the whole time if it wasn’t for her.

It was around noon. I was exhausted. I had spent the morning going back and forth from the shower to the bed. I tried snacking on Popsicles and Gatorade. I required oxygen for a time period because Harrison’s heart rate was low. Heather and my nurses were an advocate for me and for Harrison. We made position changes which allows Harrison’s heart rate to normalize, which allowed me to continue with my desired natural childbirth.

Dr. Kennedy arrived around 12:30. I was 8cm dilated. I wanted medicine to help me rest, but Dr. Kennedy and Heather both encouraged me. They reminded me of how close I was to delivering Harrison and how strong I had been all morning.

I labored in various position for the next 4 hours—yoga ball, standing, swaying, sitting up in bed. The contractions had eased up. I felt in control. The lights were dim. Heather was at the foot of the bed. My husband was to my right, holding my hand. When a contraction would come Heather would breathe with me. I followed her pace and rhythm. My focus point was either on Heather’s eyes or on the blowing leaves outside. I tried as best as I could to relax my whole body. I allowed my right hand to be my “outlet.” All my pain and frustration and strength went into squeezing Evan’s hand, the rest of my body was relaxed. I had IV fluids for a time period because my muscles were cramping.

It was 4:00pm. I was 8.5cm dilated and feeling the urge to push. I was frustrated. It felt like my labor had stopped. The nurse felt like Harrison was turned funny, which was why I wasn’t progressing. She called Dr. Kennedy to come down and attempt to manually turn Harrison. Heather suggested that I lay on my left side and push. I pushed like this from 4:00-4:30. This turned Harrison! When Dr. Kennedy arrived there was no need for her to turn him. At that moment I couldn’t have been more thankful for Heather.

It was 4:30. All of the assistants and nurses and NICU nurses arrived in my room. Heather kindly reminded me that this was it. I was about to meet Harrison.

Harrison was born at 5:05pm. 9 pounds 12 ounces. 21 and ¾ inches long. 14.5 hours of natural labor. APGAR score of 9. The experience was surreal. What a precious and valuable gift Heather and Dr. Kennedy were—to me, Evan, and Harrison. I look forward to many more pregnancies, deliveries, and birth stories with Heather. All glory be to Christ!

On the night you were born

On the night you were born
For my daughter, Ruth
-Christina Terrell

Despite my gynecologist gently joking that he’d never known anyone stay pregnant forever, I was convinced I would. While it was exciting to know I was creating your life, I felt miserable overall like a prisoner held hostage in my own body. At any given moment of the day, you could find me shoveling Oreo Blizzards into my mouth or crying in the bathtub while listening to Velvet Underground. I was a walking (err, hobbling) parody of a pregnant woman. The last few weeks were especially rough as I piled on the weight I’d avoided gaining during the earlier months. (Your Dad had to heave me out of bed in the mornings. Talk about a loss of dignity.) Worse, I started to grow increasingly anxious about the things that could go wrong. What if your umbilical cord was choking you or you had a foot growing out of your chest? What if you were stillborn? What if it hurt real bad and I couldn’t handle it? What if you had a penis AND a vagina? What if I died? What if, what if, what if…I wore your Dad out with hypotheticals. He patiently repeated the same words he’d been telling me since we found out about you: Everything’s gonna be fine, Gink.

Determined to have an un-medicated, non-induced birth and give you your first shot at autonomy, I gently toyed with a few old wives tales thought to thin the cervix and get things going. I took Evening Primrose Oil capsules with every meal. They gave me hot flashes and nightmares. I ate pineapple so often that the acid roughened my tongue.  I kept going to prenatal yoga and walked the dogs ‘til I felt like your head was going to pop out between my legs. You were due Monday, February 16th, but I often referred to this date as arbitrary assuming since you were my first born you’d be a little late. I think I remember reading somewhere that only 5% of women give birth on their due date. Also, my doctor was on call that day and always a pessimist I figured there was no way things could be that convenient.

It was unseasonably warm on Valentine’s and I took Billie to the river for her birthday while your Dad was at work. She swam in the Cahaba and made friends with a large pit bull named Max. Max’s owner asked me when I was due. “Monday,” “What are you doing here! Go home! With my first born I walked two miles and a lady told me to go home and take a shower and I’d go into labor,” “Did you?” “I did.” Max got to playing too rough and I hoisted my heavy body out of the river spot via tree swing rope, ate a Big Mac and disgusted with myself climbed back in bed. I just didn’t think you were ever going to come.

The next night, I was lying in bed with your Dad and the dogs when something felt a little off. At this point, I was overly honed into my body assuming any and every weird feeling could be the beginning of labor. You can imagine my excitement when I went to the bathroom to see a clear, odorless liquid running down my leg. I called your Dad into the bathroom and asked him to examine it. He thought it was my mucus plug. I thought it was my water releasing. We consulted Google and still unsure, went to bed. Around two in the morning, I started to feel cramps radiating from my back to my stomach. I remember smiling and telling myself to get more rest. At five, I woke up to pee and saw my bloody show! I was basically dancing back to the bed, again forcing myself to rest more. By 7:30, the contractions were coming on strong. Contractions aren’t something you can explain. You can read about them and imagine them and wonder if they’ll be like your period cramps or like eating bad Mexican food, but no matter what you can’t know them until you are having them and once you are having them, they are impossible to miss. I crawled on all fours on the heated dog bed and rocked my torso on the exercise ball. When they would get  intense, I’d shove my face into the corner of the room and my mind would take off, visualizing a variety of scenarios. In a lot of them, I saw you as an older child, frolicking next to me. We were at a farm and you were giggling and petting goats and then we were in Italy, cruising around on a river in a boat shaped like a goose. I also imagined a roller coaster, cranking up and up and up and as the contraction came to an end, the carts would fly down hill. I closed my eyes and breathed through each one, excited that the time was now and determined to have a positive birth experience.

 In between contractions, I downloaded an app to time them and crawled in bed, gently touching your Dad on the leg. I wanted to let him sleep longer but this was real! This was it! We were going to meet you! Our daughter! And on your due date, no less! “I’m in labor,” I smiled. He later admitted to not fully believing me. I tried to hold off on texting our doula, Kelly, but excitement got the best of me and I went ahead and told her I was in the throes of contractions. She started to make childcare arrangements and by ten she was in the bedroom with us, complimenting my breathing and how calm I was handling everything. This gave me a much needed confidence boost. Look at me. In labor yet cool, calm and collected. Go on, brush your shoulders off.

The hours spent laboring at home feel fluid and weird, like time was stopping and simultaneously moving faster. Your Dad made me a grilled cheese sandwich and poured me a glass of wine. The dogs were confused and I felt annoyed by them but I still wanted them near me. Kelly explained how changing positions could speed things up, but warned me the change would be jarring and might be more intense for the first few contractions. They definitely were. I walked around the house and upstairs to say hey to the cats, pausing to lean over onto counters, tables and couches as a contraction waved over me. Speaking of waves, I had a lot of visions of the ocean. I also thought about your great-grandmother and envisioned myself a variety of female animals birthing. I was a cat having kittens. I was a mare delivering a filly in a cozy, old barn on a rainy day.

Around two, Kelly suggested that the intensity and timing of my contractions made her believe I was dilated enough to get in the birthing tub. Zak excitedly packed the rest of our things into the car and I hobbled outside, placing my knees in the passenger seat and holding on to the back of the chair. Every minor bump we hit spurred awful, painful contractions. I tried not to get mad at your Dad. I knew it wasn’t his fault, but I wanted very badly to cuss him because it felt like he was purposely hitting every single blemish on every single road. In hindsight, I’m happy it happened this way because I was able to keep my progress while changing environments.

Walking into the hospital, everything was so cold, white and sterile. The girls at the front desk almost looked like they were disgusted with me. I was ushered into the room with the birthing tub and soon met an awful, rude nurse who clearly was not interested in working with a natural mom. She checked my tonsils via my cervix and determined I was dilated to nearly 6cm and effaced 90%, which cleared me for getting in the tub. But first, she made sure to rudely talk to me during contractions, insisting she couldn’t take my pre-registration paperwork I had completed online nor would she accept the printed copy that I had brought with and instead demanded I answer everything verbally. I remember Kelly taking up for me and saying that I completed everything beforehand to avoid being asked these questions. I slid into the tub and tried to ignore her. I swear the contractions hurt worse when she was around. I had high expectations for the tub and while it felt good, it wasn’t as immediately relieving and relaxing as I had hoped it would be. I labored in it for probably two hours, but maybe twenty minutes, as at this point in the day, time was completely irrelevant to me. The shower was actually much better and I braced myself on all fours on the bench and let the insanely hot water wash over my back. I most definitely had a back labor and it worried Kelly that your head was in a bad position, but luckily you were cooperative.

A new nurse, this angel of a woman named Jeri, came into our room and informed us she would be taking over the night shift. I immediately loved her. She was so sweet and nurturing—definitely a breath of fresh air after the other homegirl. Kelly and your Dad had been offering me Gatorade constantly throughout the day and it worried Kelly and Jeri that I couldn’t urinate. Kelly said sometimes a cervix wouldn’t dilate with a full bladder. I kept going to the bathroom and sitting on the heated toilet seat, enjoying the few moments of privacy it afforded me. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked like a monster, but in a good way. I looked tough. I was tough. I just couldn’t pee is all. Your head was making me feel like I had to boo-boo, so I abandoned the pee efforts and went back to try new positions. Some of the contractions were incredibly intense and your Dad became skilled at alternating a heating pad on the small of my back while I was in the thick of one and then cooling my upper back off with a wet washcloth as soon as it ended.

He and Kelly massaged me with almond oil and reminded me to relax my jaw when I clenched it too tight. Dr. H sent me some popsicles and I remember greedily slurping down a lime flavored one. I also snacked on granola bars and crackers throughout the labor to try and keep my energy. Jeri asked when my water broke and we explained that I had the small trickle but never a big gush. She examined me and said you were still wrapped in the amniotic sac and asked if she could have Dr. H break my water. I was terrified of the amniotic hook (it looks like a crotchet needle!) but agreed. As soon as he broke it, I felt a HUGE wave of relief.

Around this time, with my face pushed into the back of the hospital bed, I remember thinking to myself, “I can’t do this,” but I refused to verbalize it. I felt like saying it would make it real. I also remembered reading other women’s birth stories and how this was a common feeling to have at the later stage in labor. Then I thought…oh my, are we nearly done with this? I also didn’t want to ask questions like that though. The only thing that mattered was the exact second we were living in. But gah, it was getting hard to keep this up. I pushed the thoughts away. I told Kelly I wanted to get back in the tub. Jeri said she didn’t know if I could because she believed I was dilated too far. (At the hospital where we had you, you can labor in the tub, but you can’t deliver in the tub. You can get in after you’re dilated 4cm but you can’t get in past 7cm.) She asked if she could call Dr. H in to check me. I agreed but tried not to get my hopes up too high. I thought I heard him say 9cm, but I couldn’t believe it. I asked them to repeat it. Nine! He said he was ok with me laboring down or practicing pushing. It was really almost time to meet you!

Up until this time, I had used just about every part of the room to labor. I’d been in the bed inside my body pillow, on exercise balls and peanuts, in the shower, the toilet, the tub. I’d done squats while bracing myself on the bar that pulled out of the bed. I’d leaned against your Dad, though I kind of hated this position and felt like I was going to break him. I’d been on all fours, I’d been on two feet and now they were suggesting I get on my back. “Heck naw,” I thought to myself, but the suggestion was actually really good. It wasn’t laying flat on my back like you see in movies, but instead, the bed folded into an upright reclining position and I was able to rest my back against the top part in between waves. My bottom half was positioned at an angle to make it easy for you to slide out. Here’s the part I loved most though—the way my birth team supported me during pushes. The bar at the bottom of the bed was pushed up and Kelly stood across from me and draped a twisted sheet over it for us to play tug-of-war. As the urge to push came on, she and I would tug as Zak would help lift my legs back and Jeri would place her fingers inside of me, encouraging me to try to push them out. In between urges to push, I would pull your Dad down to me and we would kiss. His kisses were like a drug, filling my body with oxytocin and allowing me to envision my vulva opening like a sheela na gig. This became a steady routine. Tug and push then be rewarded with kisses. And here’s something worth mentioning: I definitely didn’t expect pushing to feel good, but oh my goodness, it did. It hurt too, don’t get me wrong, but it hurt in an amazing way. I had envisioned it would be worse than the contractions, but it’s a totally different sensation all together. This gave me a boost, along with the positive reinforcement I was getting from your Dad, Kelly and Jeri who kept telling me how strong I was and what a good job I was doing. Around this time, Jeri told me she could see your head and that it was covered in hair! This wasn’t much of a surprise considering I was plagued with wicked heart burn nearly the entire pregnancy, but it was exciting to know you might look like all the visions I had of you: tiny, covered in vernix with dark hair. “What color is it?” “It looks dark.” I smiled to myself.

We continued our pushing routine. At one point, they told me you were trying to make your way down on your own, sans contraction. You were trying to help get here sooner! I really appreciated that! Not much later, I overheard Jeri tell Kelly she thought it was nearly time to call the doctor. I was so excited to meet you, but I still couldn’t believe this experience was close to over. I just couldn’t let myself get my hopes up that it would be over soon because I worried something could easily snag and cause it to drag on longer.

Dr. H came in the room and asked Jeri to turn off the “French fry light” overhead. I was grateful. Earlier in labor, I had asked to wear my eye mask but it was short lived. He began to vigorously massage my perineum, telling me how tough I was because even women with epidurals sometimes complain about it. I accredited it to your Dad rubbing my perineum with coconut oil at home every night for the past two weeks. Unfortunately, I still ripped and gave myself a second-degree episiotomy. I felt myself split and it was so painful, I was sure it was you who had slithered out of me. I even looked down to see you, but you weren’t there. Luckily, I tore the push right before you made your appearance because it was seriously uncomfortable. Your Dad leaned forward to kiss me again and said “Just one more!”

I didn’t know if I could believe him or not, but I wanted so desperately for it to be true. I couldn’t wait to hold you, meet you, to stare into your sweet little eyes. Sure enough, on the next push, there you were—dark haired, tiny, and covered in vernix, exactly as I’d pictured you. I immediately burst into tears. You were crying. Your Dad was crying. Kelly and Jeri and Doc were crying. Doc thanked us for reminding him why he got into his profession to begin with. We were all crying happy tears, telling you hello. Eager for our skin to touch, I held you on my chest and you immediately latched on to my breast. And that’s the story, Baby Girl, of the night you were born and the moment we first met.

A vaginal birth after FOUR c-sections!

VBA4C?!?  I mean, seriously, what crazy person attempts a vaginal birth after four c-sections?  What about the risks and possible complications?  Wouldn't it be easier to just have that fifth c-section?

So, why not have another c-section?  My husband, Gregg, and I may want more children.  We both agreed that having any more than five c-sections was just too much of a risk on my health.  
Honestly, the odds were not in my favor.  Wait, wait...I'm not talking about rupture statistics.  Through ICAN (www.ican-online.org) I was quickly made aware that the risks were definitely higher in attempting another c-section.  So what wasn't in my favor?  Almost every doctor in the area.  Almost every hospital in the area.  Except one...Dr. Davis and UAB.  This doctor and this hospital were willing to provide me the means to try for a vaginal birth.  But the odds were still against me.  For this vaginal birth to be a success so much had to be just right.  I had to go into labor on my own, baby had to be head down and not posterior, baby's heart rate couldn't decrease at all during labor, and lastly my c-section scar couldn't rupture.  None of this would be possible without the grace of God - so I prayed and I trusted He would have a hand over it all!

When I started out on my VBA4C journey I was determined to do everything within my power to make it happen.  My first pregnancy ended up in a c-section because of mal-position and because after having an epidural I had no idea how to push out a baby effectively.  So, my first decision - this baby was to be born naturally.  If you know me, you know that pain is something I'm not a fan of and am also completely terrified of.  So, my second decision - hire a doula that would help me through the pain of childbirth.  I checked references and found the best doula (seriously, she is!) in all of Birmingham - Fredia Nelms.   

Armed with my doula and loads of reading and watching birth stories my pregnancy advanced.  I warned Fredia ahead of time that my babies come early.  Child #1 came at 37 weeks, child #2 at 37 weeks, child #3 at 36 weeks, and child #4 at 35 weeks.  I was certain we would be having another early baby.

Sure enough at 33 weeks the contractions began.  And they continued for 6 whole weeks.  It became a regular thing for me to be up all night with contractions 10 minutes (or less) apart for hours.  Several times I was sure "this was it" and would text Fredia.  By 38 weeks I was certain I was going to start screaming at her if she told me I was just having false contractions again.  Did she not hear me?  These things hurt!  They most certainly were not false!  Thankfully, she knew my body better than I did and advised me to rest instead of rushing off to the hospital.  Each time the contractions would fizzle out and I would mope around fat and miserable.

Friday night - July 18th.  I was just a couple days shy of 39 weeks.  (Did you read that??  39 weeks!  I'd never been pregnant that long!)  I had a horrible night of contractions.  They stayed 4-5 minutes apart throughout most of the night.  I sent my usual text to Fredia the next morning, and she once again told me to rest.  I wasn't too mad at her this time because she did add that "you will need the rest if you have this baby later tonight."  Seeing that word tonight was thrilling to me!  

I of course took my doula's advice to heart - and then promptly gathered up my family and headed for the zoo!  It was a wonderful day!  I think it was needed by us all.  That evening, after my heart was full of happiness from our day, I finally settled into bed at about 12:30am.  Within five minutes I felt 2 very distinct pops in the front of my belly.  I knew exactly what it was!  Within 5  minutes the contractions started and I was visibly leaking fluid.  I yelled at my husband, Gregg, who was fast asleep.  He helped me put towels on the bed so I could lie down and try to rest for awhile.  As soon as I laid down a contraction hit and, oh my goodness, it was horrendous!  I was immediately screaming.  

We sent Fredia a text at 12:50am, and after talking back and forth for an hour or so we collectively decided it was time to head to the hospital.  I was still screaming through contractions and had decided that there was no way I was having this baby without an epidural.  

Our friend, Denise, was called to sit with the kids so we could head off to the hospital.  She was a Godsend.  She was able to start counter-pressure on my back that immediately helped the contractions.  She showed Gregg what she was doing so he could take over.  I don't know what I would have done without the counter-pressure.  It was still horrible, but it would have been so much worse!

At 1:56am we sent a text to Fredia, "On our way."  This was immediately followed by another text, "I really think I want meds."  The contractions were no joke!

At about 2:15am we finally arrived at the hospital only to be stopped at the front desk so Gregg could get a nametag.  Seriously??  We were then told at triage to have a seat in the waiting room.  Again, seriously??  Keep in mind that I am still screaming through each contraction.  They finally got me back to triage at about 2:30am.  

They checked me and found that I was only 5cm.  Sweet Fredia had sent me this text on our drive up, "I want you to remember the number assigned to your cervix when you get there is not a reflection of how hard you are working or how far you have to go.  It's not the whole picture."  With that in mind hearing that I was only 5cm wasn't devastating.  Of course part of the reason it wasn't devastating was because I was certain I was going to be getting drugs in the very near future!

At UAB they require you to stay in triage until a room is available in labor and delivery.  And of course, a room wasn't available right away.  Oh, and guess what else, they can't give you drugs until you're in labor and delivery.  Didn't they know I was dying?  I literally was screaming for God to save me, help me, just make it stop.  This is only mildly embarrassing to me now!

At 3:04 am we were finally taken to labor and delivery.  Within minutes two angels arrived - Fredia and the anesthesiologist.  To my horror they both wanted me to be checked before I was given an epidural.  At this point the only position that I could handle was standing and leaning over.  I somehow managed to make my way into the bed to be checked. 

I was completely dilated!  Oh my gosh - I was complete!  I clearly remember Fredia locking eyes with me and telling me I could do this.  And all I could think was - crap, I have to do this!

I immediately went into a strange sort of primal mode.  The ridiculous screaming stopped and I focused on what I had to do.  For around 40 minutes I pushed and pushed.  I started on all fours at the head of the bed.  The doctor quickly got bored with my progress and left leaving just the nurse, Fredia, Gregg, and I in the room.  (So much for me being such a high risk patient!)  I'm not sure who suggested it but Fredia helped me get into a squatting position at the foot of the bed.  I pushed about 15 more minutes and started feeling the burning.  After the next push I could reach down and feel my baby's head.  I remember Fredia telling me I needed to breath through the next contractions - don't push - the doctor has to get here.  But it was impossible not to push.  This was the point where I learned that the "ring of fire" was truly no joke!  My next push his head came out and with the next our little Stephen Michael came out into the hands of the nurse at 4:06am.  I can still hear my husband saying, "Devon, you did it!"

My little man was put immediately on my chest!  I've had five children and this is the first time I've ever held one of my babies right after they were born.  What an amazing feeling!

It took me about 2 weeks to really wrap my brain around the entire experience.  I truly never thought I would experience a normal delivery of a child.  I always questioned whether my body could even do it.  And I surely never thought I would do it without an epidural.  But I did!  My body does work!  

One of the biggest things I struggled with after the delivery was the loss of my birth plan.  I had envisioned this beautiful labor experience.  I had a playlist all ready to listen to while I bounced on a birthing ball.  The fast, hard labor I had was almost traumatic in a sense.  It's taken me until now to accept that things happened just as they were supposed to - just as God planned.  If labor had lasted 5 minutes longer maybe I would've ended up getting that epidural which could have changed the entire outcome.  So many things might have been different.  But they weren't, they were perfect!

I know without any doubt that I couldn't have done it without the 2 hours of counter-pressure my amazing husband provided (I had the bruises to prove it!) or the awesome support of my doula!  I don't know if we'll have more children, but if we do I'll want both of them by my side once again!  And again, Dr. Davis and UAB were amazing.  They gave me a chance when no one else would!  

My husband tells me I need to be humble when telling my story.  That's a very hard request because I'm just so darn proud of myself!  With the help of God, I did what so many considered to be impossible.  I had a vaginal birth after FOUR c-sections!  And I did it naturally!  I rocked my VBA4C!

A natural induction

I always heard “you never remember the bad parts about labor and delivery. Everything is erased the moment your child Is born.” For me that is not true. I remember every single second of our daughter Alice’s birth. I remember every....single...moment. I remember the waiting, the pacing, every contraction, every push, everything. Moreover, I feel incredibly lucky that I do remember. Because everytime I see Alice smile I remember experiencing bringing her into this world and the joy I felt through every painful second of her labor.

At 40 weeks my doctor checked me and shook his head. I was nowhere near ready to deliver Alice, and I was perfectly content to let her stay and cozy for as long as she needed. I did not want to rush her, and thankfully neither did my doctor. I had searched for a doctor that would be on board with a natural delivery, and Dr. Huggins was the ticket. He smiled at me and told me to come back at 41 weeks. There was no mention of induction. There was no talk of a C-section. I was in good hands.

41 weeks came and went with no change. I was still certain that Alice was healthy and strong and Dr. Huggins agreed. However he told me that at 42 weeks he would feel irresponsible if we did not discuss our options. I agreed and settled in for what I knew would be another full week. Sure enough I showed up, still pregnant, at my doctor’s office at 42 weeks. An ultrasound revealed my amniotic fluid had decreased and my placenta was well past its prime. Dr. Huggins hugged me and told me, “it’s just time”. Tears immediately welled in my eyes and I envisioned another induction experience like the birth of our 5-year-old son, Homer. Dr. Huggins knew how strongly I felt about being able to have an un-medicated birth so he suggested trying a balloon catheter first. My husband, Philip, and I were excited at the prospect of still being able to go into labor at home as we’d hoped. We left the doctor’s office with a little spring in our step (as springy as you can get at 42 weeks).

The balloon catheter went in. The balloon catheter came out. There was no progress. I was certain I would be sent immediately for a high dose of pitocin, encouraged to have an epidural...the works. Instead, Dr. Huggins suggested starting me at a very low level of pitocin. He wanted me to be able to go without an epidural if possible, and stick to as much of my birth plan as he could while ensuring the safety of Alice. We went through an entire day of pitocin with absolutely zero progress. I was exhausted. I had laid in bed, watching the clock move slowly, nervous that at the end of the day they would crank it up and throw me into the landslide of labor interventions. Wrong again. Dr. Huggins made a crucial decision to remove me from pitocin, allow me to have the night off, get some food, get some sleep, and start again the next day with the pitocin. I was shocked. Another day? Two days of this? I was surprised and overjoyed! I had never heard of going on and then off of pitocin. And where was this option during my first birth? I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Huggins was not about to rush this birth.

Alice was still thriving, and Huggins knew that if I continued pitocin through the night I would be too tired to endure the marathon that was ahead. So instead of staying the course of many a modern doctor, Dr. Huggins stop the IV, unhooked me, encouraged me to take a walk and to eat a fabulous dinner with my husband. Whole Foods pizza never tasted so good.

The next morning, bright and early at 6am, we started our second day of pictocin. My body had been warmed up, and a couple hours later my uterus finally decided to wake up and join the party. The contractions started very slowly. Dr. Huggins still wanted to mimic natural labor as closely as possible, so I was started on the pitcocin very slowly. As they increased the drip in small increments the contractions grew stronger. I wanted to get out of bed, to move my hips and let the contractions flow through me as I walked around. Unfortunately, I still had my trusty IV with me, so the walking IV pole became my friend, traveling up and down the hallways with me Philip. My husband and I entertained ourselves as much as one possibly can while wandering the same hallway back and forth for an hour. It was a good time for us. We knew what was ahead and our nervousness and excitement were bundled up in a tightly wound ball of anticipation. I tried to unwind that ball in my head with every step I took. I breathed. I listened to Alice. I felt my physical self in a way I had never experienced before. As I walked the contractions grew stronger. At one point I had to stop and brace myself with the hand rail with each rush. The waves passed over me and Philip and I started laughing again. I knew as long as I could talk and laugh we had a long way to go. Then the talking stopped. Philip looked at me (slightly scared) and asked if he needed to call Aimee. I shook my head, no. Two minutes later a contraction almost took me to my knees. I told Philip to call Aimee....NOW.

We slowly made our way back to the room and Aimee arrived. She was the most welcome sight I had seen all day. Her energy flooded the room and suddenly I knew that I could do this. I could push through these walls and get to the other side. Her calm gaze and reassuring touch told me that I was doing what millions of women had been doing for millions of years. This was what my body was engineered to do. I felt the confidence I needed to labor and deliver Alice.

The contractions quickly grew intense and very close together. I moved from the ball to the shower to the bed. I finally settled on the ball as my favorite place to ride the contractions. Aimee was with me the entire time. She kept telling me how great I was doing, and kept reminding me that I would meet my baby soon. This got me through the darkest moment in my labor. Each contraction was its own monster. And each time I felt myself sliding into a rabbit hole of despair Aimee and my husband were right there to pick me up again. At one point I felt this was my destiny, to be endlessly in the pain of labor. I knew I had to continue but I wasn’t sure I had it in me. And then suddenly I was there. Every cell in my being told me to start pushing. I was thrilled and terrified at the same time. Aimee gave me the green light and told me that if my body was telling me to push then I could push. I was on my knees with my upper body leaning on the ball and with the next contraction I felt my muscles work in a way they had never worked before. It was the most excruciating feeling and yet it felt so good. I felt powerful. Eventually Aimee told me that I could move to the bed and face the wall to push. I took her advice and somehow made it to the bed. I continued to push and Aimee’s voice in my ear kept encouraging me every minute along the way. And then suddenly things moved quickly. With a single push I could feel Alice drop and begin to crown. I’m pretty sure this is when I started yelling. Aimee told me to stop for a moment but I couldn’t. I had to keep going. My body was exhausted and I knew that if I didn’t push Alice out in the next minute I couldn’t go on. I was facing away from the rest of the room so I didn’t know what was happening behind me. With the nurse’s and Aimee’s approval I kept pushing and suddenly I felt Alice slide out. It was the most incredible feeling I have ever experienced. In the next few seconds a crowd of people flooded into the room and things got a little interesting.

What I could not see was that Alice was born without my membranes rupturing. My water never broke. Immediately after she was born there was a scary silence and lots of rushing about. Alice was suctioned and soon after she gave a loud cry. My heart finally started beating again.

They laid Alice on my chest and I tucked her inside my nightgown. It is a feeling I will carry with me the rest of my life. The way she looked in the seconds after she was born is forever in my mind. I felt high in the best way possible. I had experienced every single second of her journey into this world. I felt as though I couldn’t even concentrate on what people were saying to me. The world was spinning around us and I was completely lost in this little person in my arms. Aimee’s guidance during Alice’s birth was an invaluable gift. Her presence gave us the calm encouragement we needed to get through the most difficult moments. Looking back on the overall experience I know that the education and support she provided allowed us to have the birth we had hoped for. She was a constant source of emotional strength and humor when we needed it. I’m not sure I could have gotten through my labor as well as I did without her by my side.

First baby, so much better than I expected!

Before we get to the details of our story, these were my expectations going in -- I would be overdue...at least 8 days. I would experience false labor AT LEAST once. I would have a long labor...at least 20 hours. I would go into labor at night and be incredibly tired. I would know when I was having contractions. Things might not go the way I wanted. I might not be able to do this (anyone else go from thinking “newborns are so tiny!” to “Their heads are so HUGE!” as they neared the due date?). When we met with our doula, Bobbie, at 38 weeks, she told us that she wanted us to be able to look back on our experience and have it be everything we had hoped. When she said that I instantly thought, “well, I don’t want to expect THAT much.” I know things don’t always go as planned with labor, and I wanted to be realistic. But I can honestly say we had an incredible experience. This is our story…

On Tuesday, February 4, I had my 39 week appointment but opted not to get checked because I didn’t want to be disappointed or have false hope. My doctor was fine with waiting until 40 weeks to check me again. At 10:15 that night, I emailed our doula, Bobbie, an update about our appointment and to tell her I’d had an unusual discharge earlier that day that was “all clear and kind of snotty consistency” but with some light pink at the end (I’m pretty sure it WAS my mucus plug). I also told her my back had been achy pretty consistently that evening, but in a more constant way (not getting worse or going away). As I tried to sleep, I remember looking at the clock around 11pm and thinking that I really didn't feel good.

We had asked my friend, Rachel, to attend our birth to help keep our families and friends updated, take pictures, and provide extra support for me and my husband as needed. At 6:20am on February 5, I texted Rachel to let her know I was having bad back cramps since the night before, but that it was probably nothing. Rachel is a nurse, so I asked for her work schedule because I wanted to know how much of a heads up she might need when we thought we were in labor...in a couple days. She responded that she was working 7am-3pm that day and that she’d keep her phone with her.

At 7:30am, I texted Bobbie to let her know I was still having “bad period cramps” but that I couldn’t distinguish a start/peak/stop or a pattern. The more intense cramping only lasted about 30 seconds, and I was still achy/crampy in between. At that point, I was really not feeling well and decided to take a nap and then call the chiropractor to see if I could go that morning. Laying down and being in the dark made me feel worse, but I was so tired it was worth it. My husband was going to get out of class at 10:40am, so I was hoping he could drive me. Unfortunately, when I woke up from my nap and called the chiropractor at 9:40am, their last appointment was at 10:30am. So I decided to try to make it myself for a 10am appointment….I just put on sweats, brushed my teeth, and left. When our chiropractor, Dr. John, asked me how I was doing (I wasn’t looking too good at that point!), I couldn’t help crying. I was just tired, didn’t feel well, and was dreading the thought of feeling like that for the next two weeks. In reality, I was just emotional, because I was definitely in early labor!

When I got home, I really didn’t feel like being by myself, so I called Kyle and asked him to come home right after his class before he had to work in the office from 12-3pm (the office is in the dorm right across the hall from our apartment). I just wanted the presence of another person. He came home and got some food for me to try to eat, and I drank a glass of red raspberry leaf “iced” tea which I’d been drinking faithfully several times a day for weeks. By 11:15am I texted Rachel and Bobbie that there was nothing new.

My husband left for work at noon, and I texted my friend, Kristie, to see if she was able to hang out. It didn’t work out, but she encouraged me to time my contractions. At 12:48pm, I texted Kristie back: “So the first two I timed sitting were about 1 min long and 9 min apart. But then I got up and it’s 20-40 seconds 2-6 min apart. So confusing cuz it seems so much more situational. Like always right after I go to the bathroom. And I can feel it really tight in my back but I don’t feel like my stomach is really hard. It’s not quite making sense to me.

By 2pm, I decided I needed to rest, so I found a movie on Netflix and laid down in bed to watch. At that point, things were getting more intense, and I had to pause the movie three times and only made it through the first 5 minutes of the movie before shutting it off. When a contraction hit, I paused the movie, clenched my pillow, and rocked back and forth on the bed groaning. That was not how I was supposed to (or wanting to) handle contractions, but I couldn’t do it by myself. I called Kyle and asked if he could come home. At 2:44pm I texted Rachel that I thought I was having consistent contractions and that we might want her to come when she got off work at 3..

I kept going back and forth about whether I thought my cramping was contractions. I had talked to Bobbie at 2:50pm, and I think she could tell that I was in active labor because shortly after our conversation she asked for a contraction update. At 3:15pm, I responded: “We haven’t been able to track 100% but mostly 45-50 seconds and 2-5 minutes apart. It seems to be getting closer. They’re not each the same intensity but they all hurt. I’ve been handling it better since Kyle got here. And I’m still in denial (at least in between).”

At 3:14pm, Rachel called about what we needed her to get for us before she came. I couldn’t make it through a conversation with her at that point, and I kept apologizing for always needing to pause while giving her a list of snacks I wanted from the grocery store. I was also getting texts from people, but I couldn’t respond back. (These should have been clues to me that THIS WAS IT...but again, my expectations told me it was all just going to end, and we’d have weeks left).

That afternoon, Bobbie was actually at her own OB appointment to find out the gender of their little one. Since I was in denial that I was in labor, and I didn’t want her to miss her appointment, we told her we were fine. Between 3 and 4pm things picked up and at 3:51pm I texted Bobbie that contractions were about 30 seconds long and 2 minutes apart, but I didn’t think they were intense enough to be super close to having the baby. Shortly after that when her appointment ended, my husband asked her to come. By the time we called, I just kept hoping she would get here soon.

Labor started getting really intense very quickly. Kyle could only leave me for a moment before I would call out “I need help,” and he’d run back and press on my back. My whole labor was back labor, and I spent all of labor in our bedroom (since we live in a dorm, we had planned to go to a nearby hotel to labor, but that never happened). The most comfortable position for me was to lean over a tall stack of pillows at the edge of our bed with Kyle pressing on my back. Unfortunately, my legs got tired, so I had to mix it up by sitting on a chair or exercise ball occasionally. I had to go the the bathroom frequently during labor, and I always dreaded it because I knew a strong contraction would hit right after. And EVERY time my husband would have to meet me at the sink for support before I made it back to the bed.

Rachel arrived about 4:45pm and Bobbie arrived around 5:15pm. I was so happy when they got there. We had not finished packing for the hospital yet (I had thrown a few things together “just in case” earlier that day), so they were trying to get our things together in between contractions. Thankfully I had written a detailed list =) Bobbie asked if she could check my purple line. I just remember her saying something like, “Ok, good.” I thought her reaction meant I wasn’t very far into labor, but she had motioned to my husband and Rachel that she thought I was 5cm. At some point I asked Bobbie if this was going to just go away (still thinking it could be false labor), and she responded with “you are DEFINITELY in labor.”

We started talking about going to the hospital, but I just wasn’t sure what the right decision was (you know...since I was STILL in denial about how far into labor I was). We made the decision and everyone starting hurrying to get everything ready to go. That was especially hard for my husband because I kept calling him back to press on my back. Bobbie timed contractions between 6:02pm and 6:49pm -- and I had SIXTEEN contractions between that time that were a minute to almost two minutes long and just about two and a half minutes apart. My breaks were only a minute! At some point in there I threw up. After the fact, Bobbie told me that by the time we left, she was very glad we had decided to go to the hospital because she knew we were getting so close to having the baby.

I don’t remember having contractions in the car, but I do remember repeatedly telling my husband, “It’s ok. We’re fine. Just be safe.” during the drive. Although most of labor went smoothly and like we had hoped, getting to the hospital did not. The trip included going up an on ramp (the wrong way), not finding a parking spot, going to the wrong floor, and having many contractions on the way to our room. Once we FINALLY made it where we were supposed to be, our awesome nurse decided we could go straight to a room instead of heading to triage to see if I was really in labor -- that much was clear.

Once we made it to our room (about 7pm), they checked me and said I was 6-7 cm. I wanted to labor in the tub, but that room was taken and they couldn’t get the blow up tub (apparently a necessary part was missing). They strapped on the monitor to check baby’s heart rate and said I’d have to be on for 30 minutes, but it ended up being much longer than that. Although I didn’t know it, they apparently kept losing his heart beat, and they needed a consistent strip before letting me go. Thankfully, they let me kneel and lean against the propped up head of the bed which was much better than lying down. At some point right after I got into that position my water broke. And shortly after that I threw up again. They had ice chips for me which I really enjoyed being able to chew between contractions. Getting the hep lock set was difficult because my contractions were so frequent and intense, but they eventually got it on the second attempt.

Dr. Radbill was on call that night and came by and prayed for us. As I was experiencing intense contractions, I overheard him cheerfully say “I’ll be back in a few hours” and I thought “You’ve got to be kidding me….it couldn’t be that much longer still.”

When they finally let me get off the monitor, I went to use the restroom. Since I knew I’d be having contractions, I sat on the toilet backwards so my husband and Bobbie would have access to my back to apply pressure. Labor got even more intense at that point. Bobbie kept trying to have me moan/groan low, but it was so hard. Throughout labor, I kept thinking “I know I should relax through this, but I just can’t.” When I was able to get control and deeply moan, it helped. I always thought I’d be very internal and quiet during labor -- that was definitely NOT the case. Keeping my eyes closed pretty much the entirety of labor was the only thing “quiet and internal” about my laboring. I needed to be very verbal to make it through each contraction, so that’s what happened. I don’t think I ever quite made it to a scream, but there was some loud grunting and groaning happening (for those who know me, that is not characteristic of my personality...but once labor takes over, personality doesn’t have much say).

While I was on the toilet, I had my “I can’t do this” moment. Although I didn’t express that verbally or even fully register it mentally, Bobbie later told me I started shaking my head (a sign that I was nearing giving up). She knew I needed to change it up. We decided to get an exercise ball and get in the shower. Once I got in the shower, I sat on the world’s smallest exercise ball. No seriously...it was so small and half deflated. So that wasn’t going to work -- it was extremely uncomfortable for me to sit on. I wedged the ball in the corner of the shower so I could lean against it, and Bobbie ran hot water over my back. That water felt SO good and finally got to all areas of my back that were hurting. Labor quickly intensified in the shower, and my body started bearing down with contractions. Bobbie knew I was complete, but waited until I felt pressure to have me go back to the bed. Everything was so intense at that moment, and with the last contraction I had in the shower, my body started curling in on itself with my heels raised off the floor -- my body was pushing!

I don’t even remember walking from the bathroom back to the bed (around 8:30/8:45pm), but I somehow ended up back on the bed leaning against the back of it. They checked me and said I was complete and ready to push. At that point I was just relieved we were getting to the end, and I think my mind started to clear a little bit. Excitement started to take over the room. Dr, Radbill came by, confirmed I was complete, said first time moms usually push 1-3 hours, and left (I don’t remember that part). Shortly after, I overheard the nurse calling the doctor again to tell him we were complete, pushing, and crowning and pretty much that he should run. He hadn’t even made it back to his office. The pushing stage of labor was such a relief. It’s almost like I didn’t feel the pain anymore. My husband and Bobbie just rubbed my back gently, and my body took over. Though I didn’t fully register the words, I have vague memories of Bobbie repeatedly telling me, “Good job. You’re doing this. Keep going. You’re doing this.” Her encouraging words were so helpful during our whole labor.

I honestly never even really tried to push. My body just instinctively (and intensely) did it on its own with each contraction. Once the doctor got there and set up, they told me they could see the head. My husband responded with “He’s so cute!” And I laughed because that was just ridiculous (turns out he hadn’t even seen anything). They told me I could reach down and feel his head which was awesome and gave me the extra boost I needed. Although contractions didn’t feel as intense, I was feeling pressure and stretching that was painful, but not as distinct as the “ring of fire” I’ve heard about. Dr. Radbill did an excellent job of coaching me through pushing and slowed me down at the end to minimize tearing. His head was born and then the rest of him slid out with the next contraction. Our little boy was born at 9:14pm on February 5 (5 days early!).

They handed him to me for immediate skin to skin. Our little guy was here! He weighed 8lb11oz, was 22 inches long and his head was 14.5 inches. And the first thing he did was poop all over me and himself. I needed stitches in three spots, but I didn’t tear too badly. We attempted breastfeeding, and he had a hard time latching at first. That was a surprise to me because I’ve heard stories of babies easily and quickly figuring it out especially if they were immediately given to the mother for skin to skin. Thankfully we have not had many problems since.

The scariest part of our whole experience was later that evening when I almost passed out in the bathroom. I was barely responsive for a while leaning against the rail by the toilet as they kept asking me “are you with me?” I had bled a lot right before that, and the bathroom (including the heated toilet seat) was hot. The nurse called in another nurse, and they got a wheelchair to take me back to bed. I felt better once I got back to the cooler air of the room and had a drink. They started setting up pitocin, but my husband stood up for me and double checked whether it was necessary. They decided they could let me wait a while and check my bleeding one more time before giving it to me. Thankfully, I didn’t end up needing it, and I’m so thankful!

Our Bradley class was very helpful in helping us feel prepared for labor, and I think it especially helped my husband feel prepared to support me during labor. He was THE BEST support I could have asked for. Bobbie was an incredible doula, and I’m so thankful for her support, guidance, and encouragement throughout our labor. And Rachel kept our families and friends updated, took pictures, talked to nurses, moved our car, got us dinner, and was in general just wonderful. I couldn’t have done it without any of them.
We are so thankful for our birth experience and understand we were very blessed with a relatively quick, complication-free first labor. Even the timing of our son's birth was perfect so that my husband did not miss much school and both sets of our parents were able to visit from up north shortly after our son's birth. We are so incredibly blessed to be his parents! He is such a sweet baby.

Accomplishment, joy, and leaving a legacy of natural birth

Before I had a natural birth, I was a natural birth. Back in the 80’s, when epidurals were the cool new thing and very few moms were going the natural route, my mom did. She told me her birth stories,and my dad told me how proud he was of her. I grew up knowing that when I had babies of my own, I wanted to birth them naturally.

However, that’s not how it happened with my first baby. As soon as I made it to 40 weeks, my doctor pressured me to schedule an induction. I reluctantly agreed, feeling that I didn’t really have an option. So, early on the third day past my due date, my doctor broke my water and started Pitocin. It got very intense very quickly, and I took an epidural as soon as I could just to save my strength. My sweet boy was born safely that afternoon, and I was thrilled.

For several months, I was content with my first birth. But occasionally I would meet someone who’d had a natural birth, and I still felt tingles in my spine as they talked about it. I had a deep need to fully experience the birth of a child, in all its challenge and for all its glory. I knew I would never be content if I didn’t. Three years later, when we were pregnant with our second baby, I was determined that it would be different this time. I found a new doctor, I hired Kelly as my doula, and I took a childbirth class taught by Fredia.

Apparently I bake my babies a long time. My due date came and went again, with only erratic contractions. Finally, on the fifth day past 40 weeks, I woke up at 1 AM with crampy contractions! I got up and ate a little bit while I timed my contractions. They kept coming, and I coped easily using deep breathing and relaxation techniques. I got my husband up when I was sure this was the real thing. I moved from a sitting position to lying on my side, and eventually I settled into an all-fours position. That’s where I was when Kelly got to my house. I was so excited to see her; it was really time!

Then the contractions really started getting intense. Standing or sitting upright during a contraction was almost unbearable because of the downward pressure. When deep breathing was no longer enough to help me relax, I started vocalizing a deep moan. This helped me continue to cope through those stronger contractions. After several of those, Kelly started encouraging us to get ready to move to the hospital. I was well past the stage when the doctor tells you to call, but we knew I wanted to labor at home as long as possible in order to streamline my admission to the hospital. We left the house around 6 AM. We drove fast down I-59, with our flashers on, me on my knees in the reclined front seat, facing the back. Once we got there, I had a deep urge to get settled in my room, to be on my knees in a bed again and stay there until this baby came out. I hustled inside, stopping to lean on something during contractions. I remember people kept asking if I wanted a wheelchair (as if I could have sat down!). When I got in my room, I got back on all fours in the bed. The contractions were really intense by then, and some of them were doubling up on the previous one. I remember thinking I couldn’t do this much longer. Those 5 minutes were evidently my transition phase. About that time, I was rather curtly telling the nurse that she couldn’t check my cervix until I was ready to push. She was a good sport and left me to it while she gathered her equipment. Not long after she left the room, my body kicked into a whole different gear. I was in the middle of a contraction, and all of a sudden, completely involuntarily, my back curled up like a cat and I was bearing down. I managed to tell Kelly, “Urge to push! Urge to push!” We had no idea what my cervix was like since I had so tactfully dismissed the nurse’s requests to check it. So to be on the safe side, I really needed to resist that urge to push until she came back. When you’re in childbirth class and they tell you to “blow out the candle” when you’re trying not push, I just don’t think it’s possible to convey what a monumental a task that is. It’s like trying not to sneeze with a feather in your face, only 10 times stronger. But for the most part, we managed. We finally got the nurse back to the room, and I still don’t think she really checked me because my baby’s head was already in the birth canal. That’s usually a good sign that your cervix is open. Wow, the relief! I got to push through the second half of that contraction, and then I got a break. Everyone around me was scrambling, I think; I had only been in the room about 30 minutes, and they were trying frantically to get my doctor in the room. But I was in another place. I was vaguely aware of all that going on around me, but my task was inside my own body. I knew it was doing its job, everything was going to be fine, and wow, it was already almost over. I was tired and ready to have a break, but I was not afraid.

My doctor made it just in time. The baby was crowning. My body pushed her head out with very little active effort from me. One more contraction and we had her shoulders out – she was born! Praise God! I had done it! I cannot describe what an amazing, exhilarating feeling I had right then. Up until that very moment, I still felt just a bit of nagging uncertainty. What if something went wrong? What if I needed an emergency C-section? What if I just got tired and discouraged, or I didn’t stand up for the kind of birth I wanted, and I accepted unnecessary interventions? What if it went like last time? But in that moment when she was born, when I gave birth to my baby, all those little what-ifs popped like bubbles all around me and I was left with exceeding joy and accomplishment. And then, as if that weren’t enough, I turned over and they handed me my baby. I held her close against my chest, skin to skin. She was sooooo soft. I nuzzled my mouth and cheek against the top of her fuzzy little head, and she snuggled into me. She started rooting, so I helped her find my breast. She latched on easily, and we were nursing! Soon I had another contraction, and I gently pushed my placenta out. Dr. Stone stitched up a small laceration while my baby and I cuddled. For several hours I just felt warm and fuzzy and wonderfully happy.

Altogether, my labor was about six and a half hours. I stayed in the bed afterwards and rested with my baby, ate a big breakfast, and took a shower. By the time all the family arrived, I was fresh and clean and moving around. My recovery was so much easier the second time – no swelling from IV fluids, far fewer stitches, no narcotic pain medication (or its side effects), and less muscle stiffness thanks to my mobility. But by far the best thing about my recovery was the emotional high. My body created its own pain relief with oxytocin and endorphins (and no medicine interfered with that process), I was in a natural state of euphoria that carried me all the way through the postpartum period. I was emotionally healthier after my second birth, in large part due to its being a totally natural labor. I had done it. I carried the art of natural birth through to another generation. And I was finally content.
~Jennifer