ICAN Blog

Two years ago this month, my older son, M. was born. He came into the world via a necessary, though unanticipated, cesarean birth. His birth left my husband and I feeling fairly traumatized and uncertain if we would be willing to take a gamble on another birth experience. I initially felt like I would be too scared to try again for a vaginal birth, but, over time, became more and more certain that if we were to have another child, I wanted to have a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean). My primary motivations for wanting a VBAC were twofold: 1) I wanted to be able to come home from the hospital and actively parent my toddler (and this seemed like it would be exceedingly difficult while recovering from surgery), and, 2) I wanted to have a healing experience that would leave me feeling confident about my body and about birth.

Once we decided we felt comfortable going through birth again, I started thinking about assembling my team. I knew that it would take a village to have a non-surgical birth. I started attending the VBAC/C-section support group at BABS more regularly. I also met with a local OB who I had heard was very VBAC-friendly. I decided I liked him and that we could make this happen. We conceived and began making plans.

Our Birth Team: We hired a fantastic doula – one who had experience with lots of kinds of births, including VBACs. I met with her, early on, to try and decide if we wanted to have a hospital or home birth and she gave me great advice. She told me that the most important thing was to be in the place I felt safest. For me, that was the hospital, so that’s what we decided to do. I also knew I wanted to labor at home until I was in active labor. Although I wasn’t worried too much about uterine rupture,*** I was concerned enough that I knew I’d be nervous laboring at home by myself. My doula helped me set up an agreement with a local direct entry midwife where she was on call to come to our home during labor to listen to heart tones and check my progress, if I wanted. Just knowing she could listen to the baby’s heart made me feel very safe laboring at home (heart tones are often the indicator that a UR is happening).

With our OB, doula, and backup midwife all accounted for, my husband and I felt like we had the perfect birth team. But I also knew I still had a lot of physical and emotional work to do before the birth of our second child.

Physical Preparations: As I had in my first pregnancy, I went to prenatal yoga at BABS at least twice a week throughout my pregnancy. I also saw a chiropractor that regularly works with pregnant women, Dr. Brandon Osmon. This time, I saw him earlier and more often than I had in my first pregnancy. Once again, I had an anterior placenta, meaning that I would be very likely to have a posterior baby (for more info about how baby’s position can affect birth, visit spinningbabies.com). So I knew that I needed to make as much room as possible in my pelvis for this baby to turn and get into the right position during labor.

Near the end of my pregnancy, I also did multiple sessions of craniosacral therapy with Melissa Larimer and Molly McDonald. They are both gifted practitioners and I am convinced that their work is what helped my son move into a better position for birth. They also helped me with my emotional work, helping me process through some of the trauma from M’s birth that I was still holding in my body.

Emotional Preparations: Not everyone who has a surgical birth is traumatized by it, but I sure was. Additionally, we had been very worried about M’s safety during my labor, and I was very fearful as I thought about going through anything like that again. At my doula’s suggestion, I met several times with a counselor (Rosie Falls from Bloomingfamilies) who really helped me work through the trauma from my first birth. She helped me think about turning points, things I wanted to do differently, trigger points that might bother me during this next birth, and so much more.

And, of course, how could I forget my dear husband? He was 100% on board from the beginning with our decision to try for a VBAC. He listened to a lot of processing, worrying, second-guessing, reading aloud from websites, and more during our pregnancy.

Finally, I had to get my head in the right place. I read several books that helped me – mostly because they had stories from other women who had tried for VBACs (some who had had VBACs and others who had to have repeat c-sections). I also spent a lot of time talking with my unborn baby. I told him that I was going to do everything in my power to keep him safe and I asked him to do what he needed to do to be born. I really saw this birth as a joint effort between the two of us – something I hadn’t really considered the first time I was pregnant.

As the arrival of our baby approached, I would often vacillate between being sure I’d have a VBAC and certain everything would go wrong….I’d usually change my mind 3-5 times a day. Ultimately, I felt like it would just be what it would be. I knew going into the birth that there would be factors I could control and factors I couldn’t and make a conscious decision to simply do everything I could to make the controllable factors work for me. I also reminded myself over and over again that my chances of having a non-surgical birth this time around were virtually identical to what they had been during my first labor – 75%. Those are pretty good odds.

The Birth: After months of preparation, I was thrilled when I finally went into labor just a few days after my due date. Once labor began, I mostly stopped thinking about this birth being a VBAC. Instead, I felt like any other woman working to bring her baby into the world. The only time I thought about it was when the contractions got extremely difficult to manage and I found myself thinking, “I can’t do this. It hurts too much. Maybe I could just have a c-section and this would all be over.” That’s when I knew I needed to have an epidural. I had always been a big supporter of having a drug-free birth, but I wasn’t ashamed to use all the tools at my disposal to get to the goal of having a non-surgical birth. After about 24 hours of laboring (mostly at home) with the epidural giving me some much needed rest I was able to begin pushing our son into the world. Since I hadn’t pushed at all with our older son, I was absolutely over-the-moon to be finally experiencing this part of childbirth. After a few hours of pushing, we welcomed our son to the world. Weighing in at just over 10 pounds, he looked like he was about 6 weeks old already! As the doctor placed him on my chest, my husband and I both cried tears of joy and he said to me, “You did it. You really did it.” And I thought, “No, we did it. This was a team effort from beginning to end.”

Sometimes – no, all the time, I think – it takes a village to birth a child. If you are preparing to give birth it is my hope that you will find your village and move together towards a birth that helps you feel empowered and supported as you become a mother.

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***Uterine rupture is the thing most folks are worried about when they opt to (or are forced to) have a scheduled repeat cesarean. UR is less likely when the scar is low-transverse (as mine is and most are these days). UR can be a total rupture (which can have serious implications for baby and mama – including infant death and emergency hysterectomy), but it can also be a simple pulling of the scar that has no effects on baby or mother. Stats about the likelihood of UR vary based on all kinds of variables. There is a great chart here with more numbers than you can shake a stick at. In really simple, non-numerical terms, I reminded myself that while the chance of UR was higher for me as a woman with a scarred uterus, it was still VERY low compared to many other dangerous things that could happen to any mother/baby during labor (including placental abruption, cord prolapse, and shoulder dystocia – see info here).

Background:
My first cesarean was a result of lack of education completely. I put my full trust in my OB and never questioned a thing. It was an elective cesarean at the OB’s prompting as a result of the baby’s size. I remember her discussing concerns with me about the baby being too big, getting stuck, shoulder dystocia, 4th degree tears, and such. That was enough to scare this uneducated, first time mom. The cesarean was an awful experience. I don’t remember meeting my baby or breastfeeding, did not bond for quite some time, and I had hives for two weeks from some medicine I was given for the surgery. My baby was 10lbs 4oz and 21.5 inches long.

My second cesarean was not supposed to be. I was planning a VBAC at a local hospital with a midwife who worked in a group practice. At 41w4d I was still pregnant and had gone in for another BPP and NST, baby looked good. The OB stripped my membranes to try to get things going and suggested that if things didn’t get going that night then I should come in the next afternoon to see if I would be favorable to have my water broken. I was up half the night with contractions but then went to sleep so I would be rested. Things slowed. The next day I was packing my bag to go into the hospital when I got a phone call from my midwife. By this point my contractions were regular again but not intense. The midwife talked to me for a minute then says that one of the OBs wanted to talk with me. (The OB in the practice who has a known reputation of no supporting VBAC’s and being c-section happy. I was actually told by the midwife to avoid her, so I did. This was our first interaction.) She proceeds to tell me that she is the OB on call for the weekend, to her my pregnancy ended at 39 weeks, and I no longer had options at their hospital. If I showed up, they would just perform the cesarean. Of coarse, I knew I could not be forced to a cesarean against my will but I was irate over the phone call. I honestly did not know what to do. I was not prepared to fight every second for my VBAC – everyone had been supportive until then. I ended up driving to another city in search of someone to support my VBAC, literally last minute. It didn’t happen. I was not prepared mentally to fight so I had my second cesarean that day with an OB I did not know, at a hospital that I had never been to. He was 9lbs 15oz and 21.5inches long. The cesarean itself was better than my first, physical recovery was easy but my emotional recovery was extremely difficult. There were so many tears and I didn’t like talking about it. Not to mention, there were not exactly many people I could talk to because no one understood. I mean, why was I upset since I had a healthy baby? I felt angry, abandoned, sad, everything. Two months postpartum I knew if I ever got pregnant again I would never go near a hospital. My husband happily agreed. I am sure it was not easy for him to see me crying so much. I attended my first ICAN meeting around that time and was finally able to tell my story to people who understood. Over a year after my second cesarean I was pregnant, on the road toward a home birth.

My HBA2C:
I woke up around 2am Saturday(May 12th), with contractions coming approximately every 3 minutes. I timed them for a while and then decided to contact my doula. Unsure of what was going on, she decided to come over and I continued laboring. I laid back down to try to rest more before the sun came up. I was able to sleep some in between contractions. When morning came we called our babysitter. Our boys left and I ate some breakfast. I labored during the morning and about 10am my midwife showed up and my contractions started slowing. She suggested Billy & I go for a walk so we started walking up and down our road. Things were not picking up and we came back inside. I went to lay down in bed to keep from exhausting myself since things seemed to be stalling. I felt disappointed. As a VBAC mom I just felt like my body was failing or something. I laid in bed listening to music and a praise song came on and it said, “my whole word is caving in but I feel you now more than I did then. How can I come to the end of me and somehow still have all I need? God I want to know you more, this is how it starts…I find you when I fall apart.” It hit me hard because I felt like everything was falling apart. I had wanted this VBAC for over 2 years and I knew at that moment that it was out of my control but in God’s control. 

Around 1pm, my midwife and I decided to do a cervical check just to see what was going on. She checked me and at first I was 3cm. However, that was only because I tensed up – when I relaxed I was actually 7-8cm. (Note: I only learned this after labor! For the longest time I thought I was only at 3 at that point! Funny now, not funny then!) We decided to strip my membranes to see if everything would start moving along more consistently. Also, my cervix was still a bit posterior. After an hour or 2 my labor picked up again. Then next 8 hours are a complete blur. I was in the birth pool, out of the pool, leaning on a bench, hanging off DH, to the bathroom, back in the pool. One vivid moment I remember was laboring in the pool and listening to music. I was in between contractions and singing along to the Matthew West song “Strong Enough.” I staring at my doula and singing, “I can do all things, through Christ who gives me strength.” Those lyrics gave me strength for quite some time. At some point my contractions began getting very strong on my back. Billy, my doula, and friend took turns and had to constantly be at my side for rubbing my back and applying counter pressure. It seemed that I was in transition for hours upon hours. I felt something was stalling me again and I was dealing with exhaustion. At times my legs lacked the energy to stand. I remember telling my doula that I didn’t feel like things were progressing.
About 11:00pm we decided to do another cervical check to figure out what was happening. Turns out my doula and midwife both were suspecting a cervical lip. I went to lay in bed for the check.  I felt I could not cope with contractions laying in bed. I was 9-9.5cm, bag of water still intact, with a cervical lip, and the baby moved at some point during labor and was now asynclitic. We decided to move the lip, then break my water, and possibly try to realign the baby correctly. This was the hardest part of my labor and it felt like it lasted forever. I endured at least 15+ contractions during that cervical check, laying on my side/back in my bed. (Being confined to the bed at that point made me realize later on why an epidural would be appealing for someone confined to a bed laboring in the hospital.) After my midwife was done she had went back upstairs and I laid in bed for a few more contractions. I was waiting for a break before I got up to get back in the pool. Billy & my friend stayed with me. My doula left the room to go pump.  As I experienced those last contractions on the bed I felt like I needed to push. I was laying on my side…felt like the baby was going to shoot out but I was so tired I couldn’t even lift my leg to ease that feeling. As soon as I got up I had a hard contraction and by body threw itself into a squatting position beside the bed. My doula came back and I made it a few feet and another hard one hit me and I squatted next to the couch. My midwife heard that one, hung up from her phone call, and came down the stairs. I finally made it to the tub and my midwife was asking if those pushes were involuntary – my doula said yes and I gave a quick head nod.
I was in the tub and I was on my knees, sort of squatting, and my body was completely in control pushing him out. Wildest feeling ever. It finally hit me at that point. I realized my VBAC was happening. It was reality. I also quickly realized that this was the part everyone says is painful but I didn’t care. My body was working hard. And soon I was able to feel him coming. Billy was feeling him come out which was amazing. He was giving everyone the play by play…he would tell us that he could feel his ears, nose, and even his tongue sticking out. Those were amazing moments – I could see and hear the excitement from Billy and I felt so focused and in control. I actually enjoyed pushing! I breathed through the pushes to keep things going slowly. Finally at 1:14am, May 13th, he appeared in the water and Billy caught him with tears in his eyes and he and placed him in my arms.

I began nursing and shortly after I delivered the placenta in the tub without much effort. (It was huge!) Also, the cord was 3 feet long with a true knot.  I got out of the tub, got cleaned, and into bed. I relaxed in bed while the newborn check was being done. Billy made me a smoothie and fed me a bowl of cereal. About 2 hours after he was born Billy cut his cord and I fell asleep in the middle of it all.

I delivered a 9lb 8oz and 22inch long baby with an intact perineum. I got a small cut on my labia but nothing that needed any care. Best of all, my sweet boy Eli came to me early morning of Mother’s Day. I am so blessed and thankful to God for such a gift!

~The birth of Ava Sophia, A VBA3C~

You know that definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.  Yep, that one.  I’ve gone over that saying so many times in my head.  Am I crazy?  Why do I even want this so badly?  Am I willing to go through hours and hours, maybe days, of labor to possibly end up with another c-section?  I could, and according to about 99% of Obstetricians, should have scheduled a c-section anyway.

I don’t know if I’m crazy so much as really, really stubborn.  I wanted this “natural birth” in 1996, 14 years ago.  That plan was foiled when my teeny baby girl stopped moving in utero and had to be cut out of me.  It felt more like a tumor removal than a birth.  I was terrified there was something wrong with my baby but the doctor reassured me that I would be able to wear a bikini after the surgery because the incision would be low.  Sweet relief.  My troubles were over!  (Try to keep up, that’s sarcasm!)  Yep, that was my welcome to motherhood.  Sitting alone in that postpartum room pumping milk like crazy listening to other babies crying in the rooms next to me, while I had to wheel myself down the hall to visit my little girl.

In 1999, I almost got my “natural birth”, but after contracting for 5 days and reaching 9 cm, my cervix swelled and I was absolutely at my limit.  I consented to c-section…firing my doctor in the process (He acted like a jerk the whole time I was in labor…all 12 hours it took for me to get from 6 to 9 cm)  Anyone else would have done the same thing in my situation.  The new doc who came to actually do the surgery told me that my pelvis was shaped like a “funnel” and I would never birth vaginally.  So I guess my diagnosis was ‘failure to progress’ due to ‘cephalopelvic disproportion or CPD’.

I never paid any attention to that.  Doctors do and always will misdiagnose…some more than others, they are human and humans make mistakes, doctors are no exception.  I wish I had a dollar for every time a woman has had a c-section for a “big” baby and then VBACed an even bigger baby.

I didn’t make great choices for my next birth in 2005.  I was very distrustful of OBs and hospitals.  I decided that I would attempt a homebirth (An HBA2C).  I was due Christmas day and hired a couple of midwives that I really didn’t feel 100% comfortable with.  I just didn’t know of anyone else who was going to attend a VBA2C.  It ended unfavorably.  I started contracting on the 19^th and kept going and going and going…just like the last time.  On the 22^nd I had reached my limit and was so exhausted, emotional, devastated.  Upon realizing I wasn’t going to get the support I needed from my midwives, I reluctantly headed to the hospital, hoping for some intervention to help me birth.  Unfortunately, the on-call OB gave me no choice and told me I had to have a CBA2C.  So, I did what I knew I had to do and asked for an AMA (against medical advice) form and went back home.  I continued laboring through the night and the next day around noon, surrendered, decided I was done and went back to the hospital to meet my precious little girl.

In 2009, I find out that I’ve had a fused sacrum my whole life.  In other words, my sacrum won’t move.  My pelvis is still normal in the front, but birthing for me is a whole other ball game.  Labor will probably be longer and more painful. That had already proven to be true.

I felt a little robbed.  Whatever.  The only thing that information changed was that it gave me validation for what I’d been through.  No wonder my labors were so long.  No wonder I haven’t been able to get a baby through!  I’m not having any more babies anyway.

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I’m pregnant.  (bet you didn’t see that coming!)

I’m pregnant and I cannot, no way, no how, can I just schedule a c-section.  It’s not in me.  No matter how I look at it, no matter how much easier it would be, I just can’t bring myself to be ok with it.  I can’t even say it out loud.  Just thinking it makes me throw up in my mouth a little.

Ok.  I probably am a little crazy…or a lot, when it comes to birth.

I’m at a crossroads.  I want a homebirth so badly I can taste it but knowing what I know, I feel like I’m going to need an intervention beyond the capabilities of a midwife.  I met a wonderful OB at an ICAN meeting some months before becoming pregnant.  He was warm and kind and very human (not doctor-ish at all) and he said to me “you’ll have another baby”.  At that time, even though I wasn’t planning to, I knew if I ever did, I would go and see him.

I’ve slept through the whole pregnancy.  At 29 weeks I had an ultrasound that showed a smallish, golf-ball sized fibroid right in the front of my uterus.  I’ve got so much built-up anxiety about this birth.

My “due date” is June 12, and while I’m not afraid to start labor, I’m afraid it will never end.  I’ll be in labor forever.  I really, kind of, believe that this baby will not make it out of my vagina.  I did start having contractions on the 11^th but ignored them as long as I could.  On the 12^th, I went and ate crab legs (contracting about every 3 minutes…probably 60 seconds long), went to the park with the kids, bending over a picnic table every few minutes.  They continued to beat me down, well into the night.  I’m handling things, but start thinking about the length of time it has taken me to get from point A to point B in my previous labors…oh wait, I never made it to point B, at least not on my own.

Now I’m beginning to feel foolish.  Its 2-3am and I can’t sleep.  I’d rather someone poke me in the eye with a hot needle than lay down or recline.  I’m really beginning to doubt myself.  I had to have a good cry…whine to my husband a little.  He hugged me and loved me as only he can and I decided to suck it up, wipe my tears and get myself together.  No matter how I looked at it, my baby would be here in the next couple of days.

I did some belly lifts and made and intricate arrangement of pillows on my bed so that I could take an ambien and sleep in as close to the hands-and-knees position as I could get.  I used a long thin heated rice sock under my belly and a large square one on my low back.  I guess I slept some because I had really weird dreams…maybe more like hallucinations.  I was in Alice in Wonderland.  There were bombs planted all around me and when they went off, I had really strong contractions.  I got up quickly and practically ran out of my room to get away from the “bombs”.

It was morning and I must have totally relaxed allowing my baby to move into the optimal position because the contractions were coming hard and fast.  I was able to check my cervix and realized that I was dilating and my mucus plug was dislodging.  A couple of hours later, I was already at about 3 cm.  I was excited but not too excited because I couldn’t really allow myself to focus on much more than the contractions.

I wanted to go ahead and head towards the hospital, yes, at only 3 cm.  It was a 45 minute drive (the doctor made it worth it!) and I didn’t want to be in the car during transition…even though I was still technically in “early labor”.  I went by my chiropractor’s house to get a quick adjustment.  I know that she thinks I’m crazy for going so early in labor.  I had to sit on my nursing pillow because it was so uncomfortable for me to just sit on the seat.

I waddled up to the nurses station at the hospital, get checked into a room and the nurse tells me that MY doctor is not on call.

Um.  The other doctor will give me a c-section.  I’ll just wait for him to call me back.

He’s not answering his phone.  He was at the hospital 36 hours yesterday with another VBAC.

We will leave if he doesn’t call back.  But I know he will call back so I’ll just wait.

The nurse is “ok” with me waiting because after checking my cervix (which seems to be in my throat) she assessed that I am still in “early labor” and at 3 cm.  She asked me if I had a birth plan.  I said “my birth plan is to VBAC, that is all.”  She set me up with a heparin lock and put me on the monitors for a 20 minute strip.  When she left the room, I ate a protein bar.  My doula and birth photographer arrived and I went and walked/squatted in the hallway.

The nurse called me back in the room, my doctor was on the phone.  He asked if I wanted to leave the hospital and go labor elsewhere.  Ummm, no.  I really don’t want to go.  I really want to stay.  I really don’t think I can handle leaving and coming back.  These contractions are really strong and long and on top of one another.  He said “ok” and he’d be up later.

My doula raised the bed into what looked like a throne to me.  I started quoting Alice in Wonderland…being the Red Queen.  “I need a pig here!” “I like a warm pig belly for my aching feet.”   She pushed my knees toward my sacrum during contractions…It felt wonderful!

My contractions started spacing out a bit, and were perfectly manageable.  This was the nicest labor ever!  I got up a few times to go to the bathroom having a couple of contractions en route and on the toilet.  My doula became concerned that I was losing steam and labor was slowing down.  She suggested I leave the hospital to labor or take a nap.  I was NOT leaving.  Not now.  She and my photographer went to get something to eat and my hubby took over the knee presses.  I ate a honey stick and kept cracking jokes.  This was so easy!  I took a trip to the toilet and decided to check my cervix.  WHOA!  This was different!  It was actually opening…a lot!  Soft, slimy, at least 5-6 cm and my bag of waters were bulging out.  I hurried back to my throne.  The nurse came in and checked me and SAID I WAS AT 7cm and gone from -3 station to -1 station!!!  I’d been at the hospital for about 3 hours!  This was probably the happiest moment I’ve had in a very long time.  I was ELATED!  I started to tear up and told the nurse “You have no idea what this means to me!”

About an hour later, my wonderful doctor walks in and says “you were 7 an hour ago; I thought you might be complete by now.”  I’m thinking, How do you know I’m not?…

At that moment, a contraction came on fast and furious.  It only seemed to last a second and then fizzled out really quickly.  It felt very different and made me nauseous.  I said “Ew, that was weird.  That one just made me want to puke.”  I was ready to start pushing and my doctor knew it.  He said “keep it up” and left the room.

I started to feel kind of drunk.  Everything is getting hazy.  Contractions just shifted gears and made me feel HOT, sweaty, and sick to my stomach.  I made lots of references to Alice in Wonderland and continued making jokes even though I was feeling so weird.

I got in all kinds of positions to push.  I followed the directions of my doula but wasn’t really loving pushing.  I was in on my hands and knees and a contraction started that really hurt, I guess it was the pressure because all of a sudden my water exploded all over the bed.  I laughed because this is probably one of the coolest things that have ever happened to me.  It was a huge victory to have my water break all on its own.  It felt awesome to have all of it gushing out.  Now I could focus my energy into making the water move from my body and know I was pushing in the right place.

Also, just to clarify, these contractions hurt, they sucked, and I only pushed because it felt better than not pushing, but I did NOT like it.

My doula instructed me to get into the ‘dangle’ position.  The bed is up as a chair and my husband sat in the chair.  I get to wrap my arms around his legs and hang limp, letting my lower body completely relax during contractions.  YUCK!  This felt AWFUL, so it must be getting the baby down, right?  I got suckered into doing that for 5 contractions.  There were more Alice in Wonderland references for this one since it looked like I was doing the ‘futterwacken dance’.  I told my doula “This is the best birth you’ve ever been to!” then I though about that for a second and added “Today, anyway.”  I guess the pain made me goofy.

The baby had been having some heart decelerations and my doctor wanted to see where her head was.  I was up on the squat bar when he checked me.  It HURT!  He informed me that my cervix was high and around the baby’s face.  She wouldn’t be born if I wasn’t able to move it down around her head.  Great.  I had to lean over the squat bar, facing the bed, do a pelvic tilt and push to save my life during the next set of contractions.  It felt like I was doing this forever because it hurt so bad that the endorphins must have really kicked in.  I felt like I was floating.  I flipped around to face the other way on the bar and kept pushing.  All of a sudden there was a mention of oxygen and people started moving fast.  I heard “lay on your left side!” “Wait!” (I’m in the middle of a contraction. I can’t move.) I was quickly thrown onto my side anyway and my leg lifted up.  Baby’s heart rate came back up, but that really sucked!

At this point, I’m in and out of half-asleep mode.  Things are really hurting, I’m working so hard and everyone starts saying “it’s time to really start working now.”  WHAT?  I’m working harder than I ever have in my life!! I’ve got my eyes shut and even though my doula told me to open them, I kept them shut.  I couldn’t focus on pushing with my eyes open.  Everyone starts saying “PUSH!” “I AM pushing!”  I honestly don’t know how this could get harder.

It did.  A lot.  The nurse starts reciting my baby’s heart rate with each contraction.  That can’t be good.  My doula got a towel for me to pull on while I push…to help the head move under my pubic bone.  That took so much concentration, and strength.  And it didn’t even work.

My doctor says “Abbey, I might have to use forceps to help the baby come down.”  I said “ok, do what you have to do” I really didn’t care, I wanted to be DONE.  I asked him if he’d have to cut an episiotomy and he reassured me that he hardly ever does them and no, just because he was using forceps, didn’t mean he would.

Of course, it wasn’t going to be over until it got even harder.  I was instructed to NOT push for 3 contractions.  Yes, in other words, eternity. (This was to give the baby oxygen before her descent through and out the birth canal.) After all I’d done to make it to this point; I honestly didn’t know if I could just DO NOTHING for a few minutes.  I started to hyperventilate and was told to slow my breathing…oh yeah…I forgot that I was breathing.  OK…that’s done…what’s next?

Somebody says “it’s time to really start working now.”  Who said that?  If I wasn’t completely incapacitated I would be in a very lively argument with that person right now.  But I can’t think straight, can’t see straight, not even sure I’m still in my body.

My doctor put in a quick catheter to drain my bladder before a contraction starts and he positions the forceps.  Push through the pain has a whole new meaning to me.  I cannot begin to describe the power and force, the inhuman strength it took to do what I was doing.  I needed everyone yelling “push!” to keep me going.  That contraction ended and the forceps were removed.  The baby’s head is under my pubic bone and I feel tons of pressure.

The baby’s head is down and I have another contraction.  One of the nurses started counting and I yelled at her “no counting”…she says “then you have to push”…I say “I am!”  Everyone is yelling at me.  “Push through the pain!”  “Push her out!”   “Grab your legs!”  “NO!”  “Wait!” “NO!”  I think my doula grabbed my hands and put them under my knees even though I needed just a second to catch my breath, there was no time.   My doula asked my doctor if I could touch the baby’s head and he replied “no, I need her to push”.  It was ok, I didn’t want to anyway.  I really didn’t care.  I just wanted it to end.    (The nurse is reciting the heart rate, in the 50’s and dropping)  My doctor tells my doula “I’m sorry, I have to do this” she tells me, “Abbey he’s going to cut an episiotomy” I say, “ok.  That’s fine.”  I have never been so ready for anything to be over in my life.

5:13 pm.   Suddenly, it was done.  It was probably the quietest moment of my life.  There was so much energy, so much force and then right at the moment of birth, it seemed so still, so quiet…it was time for me to rest.

I hear my doctor tell the nurses “nuchal cord x2 and tight body cord”

A few minutes pass, I felt like I’d just been hit by a truck.  My eyes are still closed and my doctor is working on my vagina… Whatever he is doing is awful.  He says, “Here comes your placenta.”  I was pretty much ignoring him, at least trying to.  He gets my attention, I look up at him and he says “Abbey, I’m holding onto your fibroid.”  Oh, that’s nice.  The placenta tore to pieces and his entire arm is inside me.  My fibroid is the size of a SOFTBALL!!!  The placenta had attached directly to it!  NO WONDER I had a hard time pushing her out!!!  (As soon as he was able, he drew a picture of what my uterus looked like with the fibroid and where the placenta was.  Unbelievable.

I am in disbelief and a bit of shock.  I laid there not able to sit up because I would have passed out…I couldn’t believe how light headed I was.  I think I had lost quite a bit of blood (because of the fibroid), but my doctor still didn’t require I take the routine pitocin after delivery since I had preferred not to.

Wow, that was hard and painful and certainly not intervention free.  But the interventions used, I was grateful for.  I still did it without pain medication!  I got my “natural birth”!!! It was not at all what it was ‘supposed’ to be like.  But I did it.  I FINALLY did it!  I have had a combined 250+ hours of contractions adding together my 3 attempts at VBAC.  This was a long time coming.  I could not be happier.  Nothing is going to steal my joy.  (Not even the hematoma I developed a week later and 3 weeks postpartum had to have surgically removed.  My anesthesia was a spinal.  The same kind used for c-sections. J)

I decided I’d better call my sister and tell her I’d had the baby.

She didn’t answer, but I left her a voicemail.  It went something like this:

“I just had a baby. Out of my VAGINA!!!!” I think I made a few more phone calls making that announcement.  I took great joy in saying those words!

Ok, so that wasn’t the ideal birth, and would probably be way more traumatic for lots of women than a c-section…but it was MY birth and like an ugly child with a face only a mother could love, I am so happy it was what it was.  I just had to do it…and according to my “birth plan”, I got everything I wanted.  I couldn’t be more thankful.

So maybe my new mantra will be, “if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again”.  That’s much better than the definition of “insanity.”

My photo slideshow can be viewed here..  http://www.dfwbirthphotographer.com/AvaSophia.html

Antonette is the writer for the Homebirth and Midwifery column for Mother Earth News Online.  She is currently expecting baby #3 at home any day.  This is the story of her home birth VBAC of her second baby.

Dear Evangélina,
It has taken me a year and a half to write our birthing story. I couldn’t write it because it was ours and I wanted to keep it with us and savor every memory.  I’m still amazed each and every day at the entire experience. I look at your sweet face and can’t believe that you are here, and how you came to us on October 6, 2010 was peaceful and nothing short of amazing. Welcome Evangelina, you have given me more than you will ever know.

Birth Story of Evangélina Antoinette

October 6, 2010, at 11:04 am I said the three words I waited over four and a half years to say. I looked in to my newborn daughter’s eyes and said “I DID IT.”…

My pregnancy with Evangélina was easy and I spent 9 months reading everything I could get my hands on about homebirth and VBAC’s. I had prenatal care with the most amazing homebirth Midwife who never treated me like I was a “VBAC case”. I was a woman, who was pregnant, and healthy, and unless something proved that otherwise she would treat me no differently. Sometimes I would actually forget that I was planning a VBAC. She made me feel like I could do this, and that I have been doing this for ages, and to trust my body even during the gestation process. The empowerment she gave back to me during my pregnancy gave me strength during labor and delivery. I am forever grateful for the care she gave me.

On October 5, 2010, I was 41 weeks and ready to meet our daughter. I was very anxious and excited at the thought that at any minute my body would be starting labor, on its own! That evening my mother took me to a local diner in our small town for a mother/daughter dinner. During dinner I started having some light contractions. This was no different than the nightly contractions I was having every night for almost two weeks, and by this point I just ignored them and didn’t get excited. I learned to welcome these contractions as a way to practice focusing and relaxing. It was also a beautiful way of my body reminding me “You CAN do this, because we ARE doing this”. My body worked.

Clément had been battling a cold for a few days and wanted to go to bed early. I thought this was a great idea for the both of us since I knew labor could start at any moment, it was probably best that we got as much sleep as we could. The contractions from dinner hadn’t stopped and I couldn’t fall asleep so I decided that I would lay down and put on my pregnancy visualization cd to help soothe me. At about 10pm my contractions were feeling a little stronger than I was used to. I laid there and timed them at about 5 to 6 minutes apart.  I rested for another hour as the contractions grew stronger. I went downstairs to the kitchen, not wanting to wake Clément because I was still in denial that I was actually in labor at this point. I started walking back up the stairs when my water broke. It was more of a small gush, but in that moment there was no denying that this was it…I WAS in labor. I had been waiting for this moment for weeks!

I ran (waddled) up the stairs, tried to wake Clément who was passed out on nighttime cold medicine.This is a man who never drinks coffee or alcohol, and had just taken cold medicine before bed. He wouldn’t budge. The words “honey, my water broke” didn’t even phase him. This was a good opportunity to make some phone calls. I called my midwife, our doula (and good friend) Flora, my mom and my best friend Jes (who lived in Kentucky at the time). I told the midwife, doula and mom that I didn’t feel there was any reason for them to come over just yet, the contractions weren’t too painful  and I would really like to just be with Clement at the beginning and try to rest.

Our doula arrived at around 2 am, and my contractions were still a good 5 minutes apart. I had moved to the birthing ball and found it helpful to bounce and open up my hips with each contraction. I wanted to get some rest before things really picked up, so Clement shut off the lights and Flora went downstairs and rested on the couch. Clement and I laid in our bed together and worked through the contractions for a half hour when I decided it was time to call the midwife, the contractions were coming closer at 3-4 minutes apart and it was getting harder to manage them.  After calling the midwife, I moved to the shower where I stayed on hands and knees and rocked through each contraction. The warm water felt so good as it came down on my back. The contractions were painful, but I loved being able to move the way I needed to in order to handle them as they grew stronger.

After the shower, we moved to our bedroom and stayed there on my hands and knees, resting my head on the ottoman to the glider and rocking back and forth to the rhythm of each contraction. I later saw a photo my doula captured of me in that moment and I had my eyes closed and a smile on my face. I looked so happy to be in labor, no matter how uncomfortable I may have been.

At 4 am our midwife and her assistant arrived. They got me on the bed and checked me. I was 4 cm. Those were the sweetest words I had ever heard. That’s 2 more cm than I ever got with Baylin. I felt like I could do anything in that moment. I started crying and turned to my doula and said “Did you hear that? I’m 4 cm!”  I was smiling. My body was working. It wasn’t broken.  I didn’t feel afraid of what was to come. I gave in and fully trusted whatever my body intended to do. This was going to be me experiencing ME. My body knew exactly what to do, and I was just along for the ride, and I had a wonderful and loving group of people in my home stepping back and trusting the same.

After I was checked, the midwife suggested the birth pool and I couldn’t have said “YES!” faster. Clémentwent downstairs to fill up the pool. Half an hour later I stepped into what I thought was heaven. Tucked in the back of our dining room, in my own private little space, was my birth pool full of warm water. I had the freedom to stay on my hands and knees and rock and sway. In between the contractions I was able to rest my head on the pool’s soft side. It made the contractions space out more, but didn’t lessen their effectiveness, and offered a wonderful sense of relief in between each.

My midwife went home to rest, and her assistant stayed with me while Clement and our doula rested. We dimmed the lights as my doula lit all the beautiful votive candle holders made for me at my blessingway. The room had such a peaceful warm glow to it. In between the contractions I looked around and thought “this is how it should be”. Everything felt right. No one was in control or trying to orchestrate my labor.

At 7 am my mother arrived to help take care of Baylin. Bay was amazing from the first moment he came in the room to see I was in the labor. He came up to me and softly spoke and told me it would be ok, and gave me a kiss, then walked back to the living room to be with my mother. He wasn’t worried or scared. Even my 4 yr old trusted my body and stepped back to let it do what it had to. The deep loud moaning sounds never once concerned him. He would give me a gentle kiss as if to say “you CAN do this mommy” before heading back to the living room.

As the hours went by, my contractions grew even stronger and more painful. Each contraction required more focus. If I felt myself slip even just a little, if the thought “I can’t do this” slowly started to creep up I could feel even more pain and I had to snap back. When you are having a natural birth at home, you don’t have the options of drugs. The worried me when I was pregnant, but when I was in labor it was what actually helped me through each and every contractions. When pain meds aren’t even an option you have two choices….teeter off into a dark place hide in the corner praying to god it all ends soon and feeling 99.9% sure you are going to die, or….you just do it…you just get through each every one. As a contraction started I faced it with a “bring it on” attitude. That contraction and I were going to work together to get this baby out. I rocked, and moaned to the same rhythm each and every time.  I was one more contraction closer to holding her.

Our bathroom was upstairs and it felt to me like it was a mile away. My midwives finally got me up and out of the water and headed to the bathroom in between a contraction. A contraction slammed in to me as I was going up the stairs. I didn’t have my pool, my warm water, or a flat surface to get on my hands and knees and rocks. When I finally made it up the stairs I told everyone that there was no way I was going back down. While sitting on the toilet, I had a few really intense contractions, but sitting on the toilet made them feel so good. I felt very in control. Since I was not going to go back down the stairs, no matter how much I loved being in my birth pool, we decided to try and get me squatting on the bed. I was about 9 cm with a cervical lip. I was feeling a lot of rectal pressure and wanted to try pushing. With every contraction my poor husband was being squished further and further into the memory foam mattress. It was very uncomfortable for the both of us to be on the bed.

The midwife brought the birthing stool into our bedroom and I immediately moved over to it. Pushing on the stool was amazing. It allowed me to push down with each contraction, and watch as she crowned. I was able to SEE how effective my pushing was. No one was telling me to push, it was just my body and my baby, and I was just experiencing it all. I remember looking out the window at the changing leaves thinking “I’m doing it! I’m actually doing it!”.Then thoughts of Baylin’s birth flooded my head: an OB who didn’t allow my body the time it needed, he didn’t trust birth. Sitting in a hospital bed for 12 hours curled up in pain and scared of what was going on with my body…fighting the process, having the “snowball” of inductions and getting stuck at 2 ½ cm., then having my body cut open, my baby removed from my body, and taken away from me. In that moment as another contraction was building up, I pulled all that anger, and hurt and I felt like Super Woman. I pushed with everything I had. I pushed out years of hurt. At 11:04 am my beautiful 8 lb 4 oz baby girl was born. An overwhelming rush of relief and shock came over me. I sobbed as I held her in my arms saying “I did it! She came out! “. She was beautiful. To me, there was no one else in that room but her and I. I savored that moment. She had my lips, Clément’s ears, and dark hair. When Clément came over and kissed me, I felt like the luckiest woman in the world. I did it! I brought my daughter earthside on MY terms. I birthed my daughter and also the trust I thought was lost in my own body. I was healed.

“Women who are giving birth, trust yourselves. Trust your inner power. Trust your ability to give life. This is something absolutely sacred that is inside all women in the world. “ - Ricardo Jones, Orgasmic Birth

Slideshow created by our talented birth photographer Christine Lillard at Eyes of a Child Photography: HBAC of Evangélina Antoinette

Read more: http://www.motherearthnews.com/home-birth-midwifery/the-power-of-trust-the-vbac-birth-story-of-evanglina.aspx#ixzz21piXsUnf

The story of my VBAC would not be complete without first understanding the story of my first birth, which was vastly different than this one. So here it is:

The Birth of Olivia Susan:

I’ve been putting off writing this in it’s entirety for 31 months now for several reasons: one is that it is really emotional for me and the other is that I have started to forget the details. In preparation for my second birth I feel as though I need to just stick it out and write it down.

I was due to have my first baby on October 7th, 2009. It had taken my husband, Scott, and I the better part of three years to conceive and carry a baby to term. The time in my life was tumultuous even before the pregnancy: Scott had recently lost his job and I was dealing with a large amount of mental health and physical problems when I found out I was pregnant. It had taken us years to get here, however, and so we were clearly having the baby regardless of our situation at that time.

The pregnancy was long and hard for me. I felt guilty almost every day because I didn’t enjoy being pregnant more. I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes and branded “high risk” around week 28 or so, and was followed very closely from that point on to watch my diet and the baby’s growth. We were in very tight financial straights at that time, so I made a few decisions that definitely impacted my birth experience. I elected not to take any sort of childbirth education class: it was super costly and we simply didn’t have the funds for it. I also decided very early into my pregnancy that I would have an epidural because “childbirth hurts”. I relied a bit too heavily on my medical training (I am an ICU registered nurse at heart) and knew that childbirth was painful, often long, and always unpredictable. I just wanted an epidural and I wanted a vaginal birth: other than that I was thinking I’d just go with the flow.

Fast forward to 41 week: I was over a week overdue and I was miserable. I went to the Perinatal specialist for my weekly sonogram (which really becomes a lot less exciting after months of weekly appointments, believe it or not). I had no idea that the beginning of two of the hardest days of my life were starting that morning.

Dr B (who I had come to like very much over the course of my pregnancy) became concerned very quickly about the lack of fluid they found during my ultrasound. I was told that my placenta was old and wasn’t functioning any longer. They were also concerned that my baby wasn’t moving. I immediately started crying, fearing the worst that my baby wasn’t going to survive. (I had previously suffered four miscarriages prior to this pregnancy). They sent me immediately to Frederick Memorial Hospital.

I was admitted to FMH at 9:30 in the morning. Scott was there with me. We called a bunch of people, Nora, my parents, Scott’s parents. We tried to warn them that it would likely be awhile. The original plan was that they were going to just section me on the spot, but I really didn’t want to have major surgery without even trying for a vaginal birth. I begged them to test the baby and see if the little one could handle an induction. I was on the monitors for two hours and the baby’s activity looked fine so they opted to induced. I should mention at this point that I was 0cm dilated, and only 20% effaced even though I was ten days past my EDD. At 11:30 in the morning they gave me my first dose of cervadil. I laid on my back for an hour, and was then told to walk. So I walked. And walked. And Walked. Then they checked me after several hours. No progress. 0cm, 20% effaced, -1 station. Repeat above. I was given another dose of cervadil, made to wait an hour, then walked for what seemed like an endless amount of time. Again, I had made no progress. This took a full 18 hours before something changed. They did, before the end of the night, switch me over to another drug to supposedly dilate my cervix, I can’t remember what that one was called, but I was supposed to keep it in over night. Finally, at a random check in the middle of the night by Dr A I had finally dilated to 1 whole centimeter! I was 30% effaced at this point.

Enter pitocin. This was the beginning of the horror for me. Up until this point, while it had been a long process it was relatively manageable. The pitocin was administered via an IV line and within two hours I was in so much pain that I cold not even see straight. I was having trouble breathing, urinating, walking, sitting, laying, taking, everything. And the even better part was that I wasn’t dilating any further, I was still at 1cm. I remember very clearly having a moment where I was standing in the entryway to the bathroom holding myself up on the door jam and feeling utterly alone, unable to even scream the pain was so bad. I caved: I asked for my epidural at 1cm at sometime in the middle of the night (it’s been so long that time has lost all sense of meaning to me at this point…)

They gave me my epidural. It was wonderful at the time, but I was already disheartened because I’d wanted to make it to 5cm and I was worried I’d just cut my nose off to spite my face. It’d already been a horrible 20ish hours and I had made almost no progress. I cried. A lot. But the pain was gone, so at this point they continued to increase my pitocin to a ridiculous amount unbeknownist to me–I wasn’t feeling any pain. It took a long, long time but after another 8 hours I had finally dilated to 5 cm. My doctor decided to break my water. Then things got real scary. I entered the transition from hell and went from 5 cm to 9.5 cm in about 20 minutes. I was shaking, sweating, scared, and the nurse I had at this point was completely terrible. In hindsight, I should have asked for someone else. I will if ever put in that situation again. I kept feeling like I had to push and was told by the nurse that I still had a lip of a cervix. It was a very strong urge and it didn’t go away. I kept asking her to check me. The nurse (Suzanne, I’ll never forget her name) finally huffed at me and said “If you feel like  you have to push then just push.” And rolled her eyes. I was crying, scared didn’t know what was going on and tried to explain that I didn’t want to push if it wasn’t time because I knew enough to know that that would drastically decrease the chance that I would be able to deliver this baby vaginally.

I finally started pushing. My epidural wore off 4 times. I couldn’t catch my breath, I couldn’t get on top of my contractions. The nurse was terrible. She kept coming into the room and doing things to me (hanging medications into my IV, squirting stuff on my vagina, taking my temperature and rolling her eyes) without explaining at all what she was doing to me. It made me panic more. I kept getting yelled at for not holding my breath while I pushed, but that made me feel like my eyes were going to explode out of my head. After about an hour of this the nurse callously announced that “first time mothers can push for 2-4 hours” and I burst into tears–I had thought I was almost done! She also discouragingly shook her head at the doctor when she came in to check on my progress. It was horrible. I spiked a fever and then proceeded to have all these additional interventions done. My epidural wore off again, and I was having horrible searing, burning pains in my clitoris. Not my vagina, the baby never crowned, but in my actual clitoris. It was awful. I was stuck on my back for an endless amount of time–pushing, crying, screaming, with no support from the staff. I felt isolated from my daughter, my husband and my best friend who were all there at the time. I felt alone and scared and I was trying so hard to do what I was supposed to and nothing seemed to be working. I was exhausted. At one point I explained to Dr A when she came in that I just couldn’t get on top of my contractions. She looked at the IV pump and commented that the pitocin drip was up way higher than it should have been and abruptly turned it off.

Finally, a technician came in with a grab bar for me and allowed me to push standing up. This was SO much more productive. I wish that I had been allowed to push like this from the beginning, it made such a difference. At that point they checked me again to see if the baby had made any progress: and discovered meconium. So, after hours of pushing and pain, the doctor felt the baby was stressed and that they needed to get the baby out as quickly as possible. I was rushed into the surgical suite for a Cesarean section. I felt like such a failure at this point. It’d been 36 hours, I’d tried so hard and I was just so exhausted. So I agreed.

This next part, I thought I would be relieved, but I was even more terrified. I felt as though something was being done to my body and I had absolutely no control over. I couldn’t see what was going on, and the medication they gave me in my epidural wasn’t working: I could feel them cutting me so they had to numb me to the point that I was numb up to my neck. I felt so claustrophobic – the sheet was pulled up so close to my face, I couldn’t see anything. Luckily the anesthesiologist was being very patient with me and explaining step by step what was going on. I was terrified. I was crying, shaking and so scared.

I felt like a drawer that someone was rummaging through. Finally they pulled the baby out (there was a lot of pressure) and announced that it was a girl! (We had not found out the sex of the baby previously). This is one of the few tender moments I remember from the whole experience. The doctor asked me what her name was: we told her “Olivia Susan”. I didn’t get to see her. She left me and Scott went with her to take pictures of the baby and watch over her: it was just me and the anesthesiologist. They did at one point bring the baby to me and showed her to me. She was gorgeous: big eyes and looked just like Scott and my father. She was born at 6:33pm on October 15th, 2009. They took her away from me and Scott went with her. I didn’t see her again until almost 11pm that night. They did call back from the nursery and tell me the weight of the baby: she was 6 pounds and 3 ounces and 19 3/4″ long. It took them another hour to sew me up and I was then finally transferred to the PACU.

They had given me some medication in my epidural that was supposed to keep me pain free for 24 hours. Of course, nothing had worked as far as pain management up until this point, so this didn’t either. I was all alone in this tiny recovery room all by myself in excruciating pain. They wouldn’t let me go to the postpartum room or to see my baby until my pain was under control. They were having to give me IV pain medication every 15 minutes and I was still in pain. At one point my husband did come back to see me: this is when I found out that most of my family had left to go home. They’d all seen the baby and were ‘tired’. I cried. I was so dejected, lonely, and sad.

When they finally got me back to a room with some sort of pain control I had to argue with the nursery nurses for over an hour: they wanted to wash the baby, check the baby’s blood sugar, and do nine million other treatments. They had cooled her down too much (I’d had a fever during delivery and the baby was born with one). Finally I demanded that they just bring me my baby (it was 10:45pm at this point: she hadn’t nursed, I hadn’t held her, and it’d been two days I’d been trying to have this baby). I was so tired when I finally got to see my baby that I almost dropped her (they kept putting benadryl in my IV because I was itching from all the pain medication without my consent–and I’d been up for the better part of two days).

They finally brought her to me, and I got to look at her. She was gorgeous.

Luckily, I still loved her. So very, very much. She was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. Welcome, baby Olivia. You are perfect.

The Birth of Alice Kathryn:

After what I can only describe as a traumatic event, it goes without saying that we wanted a very different birth when I got pregnant with our second, and last, child. I immediately dove into crazy amounts of research the instant I saw two lines on the little stick (at exactly 4 weeks to the day!). I read easily two dozen books starting before I’d even been to my 7 week checkup. A few of my favorites were Pushed, Natural Hospital Childbirth, Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth, and The VBAC Experience. I also immediately started searching for a VBAC friendly provider. While I did not have any major problems with my OBs the first go round, I did feel as though I’d fallen prey to a lot of unnecessary interventions that had contributed on many levels to my first birth resulting in a cesarean. Unfortunately, due to insurance limitations, I quickly discovered that I was unable to deliver at home it with a midwife, which is what I truly wanted. I decided to go to my first prenatal appointment with my current physicians and see what they had to say, armed with a million questions.

My worries turned out to be unnecessary, however. The very first thing they did at the office was present me with the VBAC consent form which included unbiased information about the benefits and risks of a VBAC vs a repeat cesarean. The pregnancy was relatively routine: about three weeks before my due date I started having acupuncture, chiropractic treatment, using evening primrose oil daily, walking every day trying to get things as relaxed and in line as I could. Scott and I had taken a Bradley class with a local instructor who was amazing and we learned so much. There was a brief scuffle where my OB tried to schedule me for a section at 39 weeks and after much discussion and information I convinced them to give me until 41 1/2 weeks until they’d take the baby. I had a section scheduled for June 7th (two days after my oldest’s 21st birthday. Even with a supportive OB you still have to be willing to advocate for themselves because they do get caught up in the doctrine of being surgeons, in my opinion.

So I hit 39 weeks – only 1cm and 10% effaced at this point. I’m getting worried: I really want to have this baby naturally. I start having frequent contractions that seem like active labor and then go away when I go to bed. Very frustrating. The week comes and goes: every day I have contractions, every night they go away. At this point I. Am. Done. Luckily my doula is amazing and keeps me going.

I had been having pretty intense contractions all week at this point, but they would go away when I would lay down to go to sleep. I was beyond frustrated by the time Saturday came around when, once again, I had contractions all throughout the day. Since nothing had come of them all week long, I elected to go to a good friend’s housewarming party that night rather than sit home and be frustrated. The contractions continued throughout the party, and I kept asking my husband how long it’d been since the last one. Each time he replied “Ten minutes.” They hurt, but I could talk through them and continued to enjoy the party until my two year old needed to be taken home and put to bed. This was about 9:30 at night. My contractions had become irregular by then: I figured I’d just get ready for bed and they’d peter out by morning just as they had all week.

As I got into bed they almost immediately intensified: laying down was really uncomfortable. I tried to sleep anyway, and my husband came to bed shortly after, some time around 10:30. At 11:45 they had become so uncomfortable I woke him up saying I just couldn’t handle them by myself any longer. This is when the night truly began. I sent my doula a message letting her know that I was in labor, but should be okay on my own for awhile longer.

The contractions were consistently erratic, sometimes as close as three minutes apart, sometimes varying as long as seven minutes. After I woke Scott up he suggested I get in the shower, which I did. And I stayed there for a good two hours. I was able to allow myself to relax much better with the hot water directly on my back. I was trying to think positive, dilating thoughts. I probably would have stayed in the shower the entire time, but unfortunately the hot water ran out!

I was still contracting, but very, very tired. The contractions were centered in my back and would work their way around front with each one. Back labor is painful! I decided to try and sleep. Scott and I both laid down at about 1:30 in the morning for an hour, and I slept–but was rudely awakened with every contraction that came. After an hour I woke Scott up, I couldn’t sit still, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t have anyone touch me, couldn’t sit on the birthing ball, I had to be standing . We woke our oldest, Nora, and told her we were walking around the neighborhood and to listen out for our (then) youngest, Olivia. So we walked. And stopped every 4-7 minutes so I could sway with the contractions and try to relax through them. If I focused on anything else except breathing slowly the pain became unbearable. We walked for awhile, desperately trying to decide on a boy’s name between contractions as we had not picked one yet and it seemed that this baby would be arriving the next day and we did not know if we were having a boy or a girl. I remember being embarrassed at having to stop in front of someone’s house for a contraction and the front door opened: a guy was walking his (obviously drunk) girlfriend to the car and we were in the way! I had to make them walk around me–I was so intently focused I couldn’t even explain what was going on! I have a vague memory of my husband greeting them and then focusing back on me, which in hindsight is pretty funny, I suppose.

I had been texting people to see who could take Olivia for me while we were at the hospital and hadn’t gotten a response back yet. It was about 3am at this point so I’m not sure who I expected to wake up but not having anyone to for sure take her was making me anxious. We got back home and I was making myself eat and drink between contractions, even though I wasn’t really hungry. I drank a lot of raspberry leaf tea and ate a lot of applesauce. I had to sit on the birthing ball between contractions and stand up to either lean on the desk or sit on all fours to focus on the contractions. At 4am I sent my doula another message: it was go time.

I think I anticipated that we’d be rushing to the hospital as soon as Aurora (my doula) arrived. I felt like I’d been working for a long, long time and was silently hoping I was almost done. She got there about 5am and was very calm and wonderful. This is also the time that Nora woke up for the day as well. Aurora gently guided us and reminded us that you dilate approximately 1cm per hour during active labor, and I decided there was no need to rush to the hospital. At her suggestion I headed back up to take another hot shower. I remember feeling like I was being a rude host leaving her downstairs! I spent another hour or so in the shower and the contractions were so intense. I developed a silent mantra “Breathe in, breathe out. Open wide. Dilate. Breathe in, breathe out.” I was totally silent and in my head throughout most of this process.

After the shower I ended up essentially completing the rest of the process in my bathroom downstairs, on the toilet with the light off. I could sit through the contractions, stand if I need to, and pee freely. I finally got a response from the girl who normally watches Olivia that she could take her for the day. After cooking me an egg for breakfast that I couldn’t eat much of, Scott went to take her there so she would be situated when we needed to leave for the hospital and I remember having a pang of concern for my firstborn as she kissed me goodbye and walked out the door. I felt immensely better about the situation once Scott returned having safely delivered Liv. This was around 8:00 in the morning. I was feeling uncertain at this point. I knew things were picking up–I was becoming unable to tolerate having clothing touch my abdomen and the contractions were so very intense. I was also worried about going to the hospital and having things stop or slow down or end up with a section again–I knew this was possible. I was worried. I reached out to Aurora because I just didn’t know what to do. I could no longer sit at this point. My contractions were not as close and as regular as “typical” active labor is. I was starting to get frightened – it had been a long time and I was starting to get scared.

At about 9am after a conversation I don’t really remember with Aurora I decided it was time to go. It was abrupt but when I had felt it was time, I was ready. I was wearing nothing by my husband’s robe at this point: not even any underwear! All of us piled into three cars and then everyone had to wait for me to finish a contraction because I couldn’t get in the car while having one.

The ride to the hospital was awful. Every bump made the pain worse, it was really hard to continue being focused and calm and relaxed. I called my OB and let them know what was going on, and we called my mothers in law and left a message letting them know we were going to the hospital. It took me probably a good 20 minutes to walk the ten feet to the door of the FMH emergency room. I had three contractions on the way and had to stop and breathe with each one. Nora, Scott, Aurora and I all stood there with each one–with a ton of crap! We had my wedge pillow, my birthing ball, a cooler for my placenta, the bag, one of the nurses joked that it looked like we were going for a Memorial Day cookout! (this was the Sunday before Memorial Day). Once we entered the hospital I refused to sit down in a wheelchair–I simply couldn’t sit at all, even between contractions at this point.

We finally made it to the labor and delivery unit and they weighed me (in kg, yay!) and then sent me to the triage area–I think I was so calm and quiet that they didn’t think I was very far along. Based on their reactions I was worried about getting sent home because I wasn’t as far along as I thought I should be. I was very scared that my contractions weren’t productive like my first labor and I wasn’t going to be able to make it through this process. They had me pee and then it was time for my first vaginal check in almost eleven hours of labor. I held my breath due to nerves and the nurse (Kari) asked me “How far along do you think you are?” I almost burst into tears and was afraid to even guess -”I don’t know!” to which she replied “How does 7-8cm sound? And you’re fully effaced and this won’t be long!” My entire entourage, myself included, literally cheered and I did start crying – this time from relief. They asked me about what I wanted to use for pain management and my husband dutifully answered all the questions and explained that I was doing this naturally. He handled all the questions for the most part, which was wonderful. Especially when we realized I had forgotten my purse and had no ID and did not have my insurance card!

They immediately got me into a birthing room and checked the baby–baby was looking awesome on the monitor so they let me go back to my favorite place – the shower. This was the point where they realized I was a VBAC and I got worried – they started calling the charge nurse and telling her that I was a VBAC and reminding my OB that I was a VBAC, I thought ‘oh god please don’t let this be the end!” Luckily not much changed in their demeanor at this point. I got back into the shower for another hour. A new nurse, Shayna, came in at one point and checked the baby’s heartbeat with a doppler and baby still sounded great. Scott made sure everyone had my birth plan, and wasn’t gone away from me for more than a few minutes to pee the entire time we were at the hospital.

Once I got out of the shower I didn’t get dressed again until after the baby was born. In hindsight I realized that I must have entered transition in the shower–my contractions started double peaking, I couldn’t rest even between contractions, and they checked me again – I was at 9cm. It had been about an hour and a half since my last check and I verbalized – “I can’t do this for another hour and a half!” Aurora and Scott and Nora said all the right things, I remember none of them, however, and very shortly after felt the urge to push. Dr Chen came in and checked me – said I was at 9.5cm. Then I got scared again. This was what happened with my oldest – I had a lip of a cervix and I started pushing too soon and ended up with a section. Dr Chen also told me that it was going to take along time to push out the baby because I didn’t have my oldest vaginally so it was going to be like a first delivery. This is one reason that I will remind people that words are powerful: I started to unravel at this point. Also, At some point during this interaction he broke my water. I really didn’t want to have my water broken–I had really bad associations with it during my first labor. They told me it was medically necessary for reasons that made perfect sense at the time that I can’t recall right now. I was in bed when Dr Chen broke my water and it was so gross–fluid went everywhere. I didn’t want anyone to touch me to clean it up and the nurse was laughing at herself for wanting to clean me! There was meconium all over the place and Dr Chen said that we could keep going at this point but they’d have a neonatologist for immediately after the delivery and that family couldn’t cut the cord and I couldn’t have the baby on my stomach. I remember the pang of sadness I felt at that.

Luckily I had an amazing nursing team. I must give credit where credit is due: Traci the technician had been there when Olivia was born–and she was the only saving grace. When she walked into my room I burst out with “You are my FAVORITE! You were there when I delivered my daughter!” She laughed and replied “I like you, already!”

I kept saying “I feel like I have to push!” and they kept telling me not to. Secretly, at this point, I was bearing down between contractions – sort of mini pushing. They were so intense, they hurt so much at this point, I looked at Aurora and said “I really don’t think I can do this any longer.” She told me “You are doing this.” Nora told me “Just keep swimming.” Scott told me “I love you.”

Shayna, my phenomenal nurse, had me get on the bed and pushed the remainder of my cervix out of the way while I bore down. It was uncomfortable, but it was better than trying to continue doing nothing. Dr Chen came back into the room, checked the baby and started taking the bed apart and pulling out instruments: I got panicky. “They aren’t going to cut me, are they?” Dr Chen replied: “No, I’m getting ready to deliver this baby.”

Then the pushing started. I thought it would be easier this time around: it was not. I was still unprepared for the pain, the intensity, the exhaustion. I pushed and wasn’t pushing right, I just knew it. Directed pushing is not for me. If I ever have another baby I’m doing it at home, alone. I couldn’t find a good position in the bed: I tried the bar, on my side, on my back, nothing felt like it was working right. The counting and the yelling didn’t help much, either. Dr Chen came in and checked me again: told me nothing had changed. I got more panicky, yelled at him to please not touch me, tried breathing through a few contractions, nothing worked. Dr Chen started to get concerned about the baby’s heart rate: the nurses went to bat for me and told him that the baby had a low baseline heart rate and things were fine. When he left the room Shayna reminded me that this was what I wanted, and it was time to push this baby out. She didn’t want to give Dr Chen any reason to take me to the OR. I gathered up my willpower and decided to refocus and try again. It hurt so badly, in my head I was convinced I was going to fail at this again. All my preparation, my study, my practice, my 15 hours of drug free labor and I was going to fail again. I looked at my husband and begged him, “Just let them take the baby.” He told me no, he couldn’t do that. Aurora and Nora told me no, too. Traci then made me mad on purpose, told me she was getting me the mirror and I was going to watch me push this baby out all by myself weather I liked it or not. And something switched in me. I can’t describe it, I can barely remember it. I remember pushing and seeing my baby’s head and thinking “well, that looks much less swollen than last time. If I can see it–I bet I can push this baby out in no time.” Once I got the mirror, I saw that baby’s head and I was like a madwoman. I knew it was so close–if I could just push harder. So I did. And after three big pushes and a ton of burning all of a sudden the baby’s head was out! It was purple and scrunched and I was worried something was wrong. They told me to slow down while Dr Chen rotated the baby–I could feel the shoulders behind my pubic bone. Then they told me to push again, so I did and the baby literally fell out of me.

It seemed to sudden, I could barley believe it–everyone was laughing and cheering and I saw Scott crying. Aurora and Nora were crying. I was stunned. They showed the baby to me as they clipped and clamped the cord, I couldn’t believe I had done it and it was over! Then I remembered I didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl, I had to ask. They were so not used to people not knowing they had forgotten to tell me! Scott said “It’s a girl!!” That was when it hit me: I had a daughter. I had brought her Earthside under my own power, with minimal “modern advancements” and a phenomenal birthing team. I started crying and saying “I have a daughter, is she okay? I have a daughter!” over and over again. They took her over to the table and Dr Chen started sewing me up. In my urgency to get the baby out once I saw her head crowning I had torn in two places, a second degree tear. That was unpleasant. I also suddenly became aware that I was naked and asked for a robe–I was cold, too. Nora was on the phone calling Jake, I was texting the nanny a picture of the new baby to show Olivia, and this whole time my baby girl was maybe three feet away from me. I got to see her messy, watch her take her first breath. Scott went over and asked the doctors when they could bring the baby over to Mom. It was like he’d woken them from a daze: they were so intent on the “routine” of the hospital that they hadn’t even realized I hadn’t held her yet. So they brought her to me.

So in awe, so in love, so perfectly. I love you, Alice Kathryn. Welcome.

Follow up notes: Alice was born on her due date, May 27th, 2012. Alice’s APGAR scores were 8 and 9. She weighed 7 pounds and 1 ounce, 18 3/4 inches long, born at 2:33pm after 15.5 hours of active labor. Alice nursed within ten minutes of being born and we were discharged as soon as she was 24 hours old on a holiday. I was up to pee 30 minutes after they finally finished sewing me up, and my nurse told me I was the first patient in her 10 years as an L&D nurse who requested to walk from the delivery room to her PP room, which I did, without incident. My recovery was almost immediate. I went home on nothing more than ibuprofen. I did fracture my spine in delivering her (in my opinion this was directly related to pushing in those unnatural positions) and I *still* recommend this VBAC experience over my first section. However, I needed the confidence, the education, and the amazing birthing team that I had to be able to accomplish the feat of giving birth.