This birth story was used by permission from Heather's blog:

http://babyslime.livejournal.com/

I have a physical disability that fuses my spinal column and limits my mobility as well as causes chronic pain. I take a lot of medications to improve my quality of life. So, I wanted to share my story for other disabled mamas who may have been falsely told they cannot have a natural birth.

 

Yay it's finally done! The birth story! That only took nearly two weeks... you'd think writing two hours worth of story would take far less than that, but you'd be wrong. Half-way through writing I got my birth pictures, which I'm happily adding in, so this entry also contains some nudity. Don't worry there's no massive 2000-pixel-wide shots of my overgrown hippie vag or anything, there's just a bare breast or two (hopefully not three?).

The funniest part to Zephyra's birth story is that we have been saying she'd be born on June 2nd since just after I found out I was pregnant. I certainly didn't love going overdue to 41.5 weeks with all the health issues I was having, but at least I can walk away with a smug, self-satisfied look knowing I totally called that. Who doesn't like being right, right?
I'm writing this as though the events leading up to her birth weren't quite so recent, so that when I look back on it in months or years I won't forget those details. Plus, I plan on reposting this in places that don't have my blog as context so you'll have to forgive me if the tense or structure sounds a little messed up.

*I've now added a birth video/slideshow, which can be viewed at the bottom of this story. Or, [ click here ] to go directly to it on Youtube.

Four days earlier I came home early from a "fun day" at Tempest's school due to unrelenting nausea, and prodromal labour started with a bang as soon I came in the door. A contraction hit me so hard I was standing on my toes, and even though it was the first I'd felt, the intensity made me seriously consider that it was early labour. From there, regular contractions went like clockwork every five minutes, but they never got any further apart or closer together, and never progressed into something more intense, (nor did they subside). I could easily sleep, walk and talk through them: they weren't that painful, just uncomfortable, though it was annoying and kind of frustrating to not have them change into something more meaningful. In spite of this I was convinced this would turn into active labour soon, and after a few hours of it I called my midwife for advice and a heads up, then called Curtis home from work and my doula, MJ, for support. I ran a bath while I waited to see if the pains would space out, but they didn't.
The two arrived at the house at the same time, and MJ and I went for a walk around the block to try and make the contractions pick up. When that failed, and I was still in the same place I was three hours ago, I decided to go to sleep - hoping it would turn into labour sometime during the night. Unfortunately, that didn't happen: after 24 hours they stopped. Or at least they seemed to stop; a closer look revealed that they were actually still going - still five minutes apart - but the intensity had dropped down so far that I had to really pay attention to notice them. They were tiny mere squeezes now, so small I could mistake them for brief muscle spasms if I wasn't paying close attention.


Curtis rubbing my back during the first bout of prodromal labour.

For the next four continuous days they went on like that. The intensity would go up and down depending on my activity (going for a walk, sex, or any other excitement made them hurt more) but the timing stayed the same. FOUR FREAKING DAYS!
Don't get me wrong, I wasn't in pain and I wasn't exhausted; I was coping really well in spite of the frustration. I learned my lesson with Tempest's labour: don't be a watched pot. However, it was rather depressing. Prodromal labour is a special kind of hell no matter how you experience it because you know it can last days, or even weeks before turning into something more exciting. It's like you're standing on the labour cliff overlooking the birth chasm, toes curled over the edge, teetering back and forth, knowing you'll get pushed off at any second... and yet you're still just standing there. It's an insane birth limbo between "nothing is happening" and "something is happening" and it can drive you up the fucking wall. My midwife, my doula and Curtis were all wonderfully supportive during my periodic tantrums about how I was never, ever going to go into labour ever. They reminded me to keep myself well hydrated, well rested and well distracted during that time because real labour would begin soon. Well, relatively soon anyway. They kept me grounded and assured I didn't obsess too much. As my midwife said in the days prior, "The only concerns we should ever have about this stage are maternal exhaustion and maternal crazy-making".
I think the reason why it got to me more than normal is that I experienced absolutely none of it in the weeks prior; something I'm not accustomed to. In my past three pregnancies I had weeks upon weeks of prodromal labour, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I got quite used to that, and as a result it never really felt like I was "imminent", nor did I at any point believe that prodromal labour was an indication that real labour was officially on its way. On the other hand, this prodromal labour came on quite suddenly at 41 weeks, rather than six weeks before birth, so I ended up forgetting about that stage completely and instead found myself excitedly thinking I was about to have a baby.
Unfortunately all that did was result in my having birthy blue balls for the next week.

At around 10pm on the night of June 1st Curtis and I settled in to watch our current anime obsession, One Piece. Just before we started I made a Twitter update about how nothing had changed and someone reminded me about my original birth prediction way back at the beginning of pregnancy:

I joked to Curtis that this prediction meant my labour would start at exactly midnight. While we watched, the prodromal labour BS continued on without variation right up until the clock turned over to midnight on June 2nd. I very suddenly got a squeeze that was different from the rest; the contraction felt like someone was pulling my uterus downward, and taking my spine with it. I leapt up out of my seat and onto all fours to take the pressure of my back. Curtis paused the episode and watched me with one eyebrow raised. As the contraction subsided he motioned to the clock (now reading 12:01am) and asked incredulously, "Did you seriously just go into labour?".

Of course, it's ridiculous to diagnose labour from one contraction, but it certainly did stir the air a little.

The next two contractions were totally out of sync from the every-five-minutes pattern we'd become accustomed to over the last four days... but they didn't hurt at all. We dismissed it as a fluke and I hunkered back down in bed to start watching the episode again. Not thirty seconds after pressing 'play' I had another painful contraction. Once again, I had to get up out of bed to ride it out; laying down on my back through it was way too uncomfortable. We paused the episode again, wrote down the time and waited for another one to hit in five minutes... but that didn't happen: it took nine minutes, and once again it was a poor excuse for a gas bubble, let alone a labour contraction.
This continued for a little while, and Curtis timed them: seven minutes, three minutes, then seven minutes again, all mostly painless. This was getting really annoying. Every time I got one that made me pay attention, they turned into Braxton Hicks, but as soon as I gave up and tried to watch anime, I'd get another rough one.
"Baby is a birthtease," he said.

It was now getting close to 1am and I'd had about seven nice contractions with a smattering of random painless ones. Not really cause for alarm, but it was a little weird how they so suddenly broke up my solid pattern from the last several days.
I got up to go to the bathroom and tried to check my cervix for any changes, but I couldn't reach it and eventually gave up. Baby was lower than she was earlier, but that's about all I could feel. When I took my fingers away they were covered in blood. I normally don't get bloody show like that, and for some reason it really freaked me out. All of a sudden I was having a huge panic attack. I felt shakey and nauseous and absolutely terrified. I showed Curtis the blood and he looked excited... but, when he realized I didn't share that, he stood up and embraced me.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know. I'm scared," I told him.
"What are you scared of?"
"I don't know!"
"Are you afraid that this is going to be labour soon?"
"Maybe... I don't know. I'm having this panic attack and I can't make it stop".
I told Curtis I wanted to call the midwife, Jill, but I also didn't want to because it was nearly one in the morning and disturbing her over a panic attack and a little bit of blood is totally ridiculous. I mean really, who does that? Something in the back of my head kept telling me that this was going to be labour soon, but since I wasn't really having any regular contractions I couldn't go on that as a good reason to call. I really did not want another false alarm, this time in the middle of the night. My panic attack continued to swell and soon I was sitting in the bathroom crying, pacing back and forth. I kept saying, "I'm scared," but had no idea why.

"This makes me think you're about to go into labour." Curtis gestured to me as I leaned on the bathroom sink.
"Why?"
"You're keeping really close to the tub. You keep coming out for a moment or two, but immediately finding yourself back in here. The bathroom isn't exactly spacious or comfortable for pacing, but you had Xan in here and I just get the impression that you're trying to stay close to it because your instincts are kicking in. And I think this panic is you reacting to labour being imminent." As much as I didn't want to think about it, he had a good point. After another few contractions I finally asked Curtis if he would call her for me.

I tried to avoid talking to her on the phone because for some reason I figured this would make me feel less embarrassed. You know, like maybe pass it off like he called her and not me, because I'm holding up remarkably well and all that. Naturally that didn't work; she really wanted to hear me talk about why I was feeling so nervous. While I was on the phone with her I openly sobbed, still not entirely sure why, and had several contractions in a row. The last one felt particularly toe-curling so I gave the phone back to Curtis and paced myself back into the bathroom so I could bite on a towel to muffle my crying. As I paced, Curtis started following me around with the phone held out and taking the towels away from me every time I tried to bite on them. I yelled at him, "What the fuck are you doing?"
He shook the phone at me. "She's trying to listen to your contractions!"
"... oh." Double embarrassed.

He finally left me alone and I heard him talking with Jill for a few more minutes, telling her that he thought I was going to go into labour but I was too embarrassed to ask her to come by since nothing had started yet. She had a strong trust for mother's instincts, and really felt that she should come over, but decided she would take her time getting ready to respect my worries that it would all disappear in a few minutes and I'd end up feeling silly to have ever called. She asked to speak to me again so she could tell me this herself.
"I'll call you after I've prepped and had a cup of coffee, and if you're still having the odd contraction and feeling nervous, then I'll come over and we'll just hang out for a bit, okay?"
"Okay," I answered, not at all confident that this was an aleight thing to do. If it was one in the afternoon I wouldn't feel so bad, but I'd awakened someone up from sleep for what amounted to a few hard contractions and a panic attack, and I was really worried that everything would stop and I'd feel just fine as soon as she walked in the door... meaning I woke her up and dragged her out of her house in the middle of the night for nothing.

When 20 minutes were up she called again and asked for an update: I'd had about three more irregular contractions and was still feeling panicky, so she made the decision for me and said she was going to come on over and keep me company.
As soon as she arrived I apologized for waking her up over "nothing", and she reassured me that it's never nothing if I'm feeling this uneasy. She assured me she had lots of paperwork she could do if I just wanted to have her hanging around for an hour, and then sat down at my kitchen table and pulled out a large folder as proof.
We ended up sitting in the livingroom chatting for almost half an hour. I cried off and on and continued to have mild-to-moderate, irregular contractions with a bigger one thrown in at random. Jill and Curtis gave me hugs and talked me through the anxiety, which slowly began to fade the more I verbalized it. All it took was saying out loud, "I'm scared!" and crying hard for a moment or two to feel like I was starting to come out of it.
Jill gave me another big hug, "Are you upset that you called me?"
"Sort of," I answered honestly. "Nothing is really happening, so I'm kind of worried this will disappear and I'll feel stupid for bringing you over."
"I don't mind at all; that's what a midwife is for."
"It's been eight years since I've had a midwife, I feel like I've forgotten what to do with one! I don't really know when I'm supposed to call!"
She laughed. "That's right you did your last two on your own! Of all the things you know how to do really well, I guess calling a midwife is probably not so high on the list? Well, I'm honoured to be your first midwife in eight years!"

As we approached the 40 minute mark I was feeling a lot better, but the weird irregular contractions hadn't changed at all. I asked Jill if I could have a cervical check; telling her that I was going to send her home after this so I could wait for real labour to hit... but I wanted to satisfy my curiosity first.
She joked that I'd been sitting on the cusp of labour for nearly a week now and sometimes all it takes is, "Jill's magic fingers" (a cervical check, not a membrane sweep) to make all the difference. I was 4-5cm dilated and 90% effaced that afternoon when I'd asked for my second ever check this pregnancy, and I'd been sitting there since my prodromal labour began five days earlier.
"This is a very different cervix than I felt this afternoon," Jill said quietly. I had no idea if that was good or bad. "Can we wait until you have another contraction so I can feel what they're doing?"
"Yeah, sure," I said. Naturally, this meant that the contractions practically stopped, so she was sitting there with her fingers in my vagina for fourteen very awkward minutes while we waited for the next one to hit. Curtis was sitting on the other side of me and we made a few really rude jokes about how ridiculous it was to have all three of us laying on my bed with someone's fingers in my vagina that weren't his.
Finally a mild one came.
There was silence for a few seconds as Jill felt my cervix for changes. "How does this one feel?" she asked.
"It's uncomfortable to be on my back, but it's not at all labour-y," I answered.
"Hmm," she said. All these ambiguous noises were not giving me any ideas about what was going on and it was making me antsy.
When the contraction ended she showed me her fingers, which were covered in quite a bit more bloody show. "Well," she started. "You're not in active labour, and there's no pattern to these little contractions, but you're seven centimeters dilated and pushing to eight with a contraction. So... I'm not going to go home!"
"Are you shitting me?"
She laughed, "Active labour could start any time between now and six hours from now, but it will start before 6am, I guarantee you, and once it comes on it'll go fast. Want to call your doula?".
I nodded, still stunned. Curtis got up and grabbed both the phone and the call list to let both MJ and my photographer know they should get ready to come over. I snapped out of my daze when I heard him talking on the phone and yelled out to make sure they know to take their time, since active labour hadn't hit yet. Just as I finished saying that a very hard, very labour-like contraction hit. I actually had to moan through it. Three minutes later another one came, and then another three minutes after that.
"Okay," I called out to Curtis again, "Maybe instead tell them to come faster."
"See?" said Jill with a smile, "Jill's magic fingers!" She held her hands up and wiggled her fingers back and forth.

The contractions were now coming three minutes apart like clockwork, hard and intense. Active labour had officially started: it was 2:20am. Curtis and Jill went into the livingroom to set up the birth pool. Jill gave it a last bit of air to firm up the sides while Curtis brought the hose out of the bathroom to start filling it up. At first I was nervous that the pool was going to be filled too soon and it would get cold before it was time to get in... but by the time it had enough hot water in it to run the tank cold I was pacing next to the pool, impatiently waiting to get inside.
Curtis filled it with hot water first and then used cold to bring it back down to a comfortable temperature. By filling it that way he assured we had as much heat as possible, as soon as possible, although we still ended up needing a few pots of boiling water and a few minutes of a cold hose to get the water level high enough to offer some relief. All in all it took no more than 20 minutes to fill, and by that point I was desperate to get in.

The backup midwife, Julia, arrived with a medical bag and started setting up our kitchen table with equipment and receiving blankets. Jill and Julia stepped aside to discuss something to each other, but I couldn't hear them over the sound of my own noises: the contractions were intensifying much faster than I was prepare to handle, and had already gotten to the point where I felt like I couldn't take them anymore. My bones were starting to feel tired and sore. Jill picked up on my exhaustion and prompted me to start drinking Gatorade to stay hydrated.
When the pool was finally ready I got Curtis' help to get in and slid into the water. Relief! My spinal fusions were hurting terribly with each contraction, but being submerged took a lot of the weight off my back and made them much easier to handle. I could feel my whole body sighing in ecstasy. I sat on my knees, leaning over the edge of the tub with Curtis sitting on a chair in front of me. Originally he was going to get in the pool with me for support, but I wouldn't let him go put his swim trunks on so he never did end up leaving that chair.

During each contraction I made low sounds and tried to keep my body relaxed. They hurt a lot; far more than I was expecting from this early stage of labour and far more than I remember my other labours hurting. I was having a really hard time dealing with the pain and was starting to feel that desperate, anxious feeling in my chest that makes you think you're spinning out of control. It scared me.
Curtis was a rock: he held my hand, rubbed my shoulders and whispered in my ear through each contraction, saying I was doing so well and that I could make it through. As each contraction faded he'd tell me he was proud, that he loved me, and that I had made it through one more; bringing me that much closer to birth.

Somewhere around this point both my doula, Mary Jo, and my photographer Shealyn arrived; though I didn't notice either come in.





Mary Jo had a bowl with ice in it that she used to soak cloths for my back, forehead and shoulders. When she saw me reach for my back during a contraction, she put counterpressure on my spine without me having to ask. She poured me a glass of iced Gatorade with a bendy straw and held it up for me to drink while Curtis held my hands and my body tight. I've never needed so much support during labour; and I've never had so much support. I felt incredibly loved; emotionally, it was wonderful.





Physically was a different matter. My back hurt so much. This wasn't a posterior labour, for once, but it hurt far worse than my past OP births with the pain of contractions was centered squarely in my fusions; spine and pelvis. I tried everything I could think to take the rising pressure off my vertebrae, but the further labour went on the harder it was to find anything that was even remotely helpful.
I could feel baby moving and spinning as she got herself into position for birth, making my bones ache each time she completed another circle. She was so active during labour. Jill checked her heart rate with a waterproof doppler a few times to ensure she was doing well, and it was perfect every time.



I asked baby out loud to please stop moving and find a comfortable position. I begged for the contractions to space out; they were coming fast and hard, less than two minutes apart and lasting almost as long now. I wanted to be strong and confident like I'd felt in my other births, but my brain was screaming stop! At one point I remember crying out, "I don't want to have her anymore! I want labour to go away!". I didn't care if it meant I'd be pregnant another week, or another month, or forever - I just wanted to curl up and go to sleep. The pain was exhausting. In the short space between contractions I would think to myself that if I could only get my fusions to stop taking the brunt of the pressure, I'd be able to handle this no problem.



My normal coping skills for pain were useless. I tried several different visualizations through the pain: old ones of water flowing through tubes that worked for me during the worst of my labour with Tempest, or one of coloured air traveling through spirals that I used while labouring with Xan; but neither of those did a thing to help me focus. I finally found one that made me feel a little more in control: I imagined the contractions as a stream of water shooting upward, hitting a glass ceiling and spreading slowly along the underside of the glass before dripping back down into a quiet pool of water. Once they hit the top of the ceiling they would not get more intense and I told myself if I could handle them there, I could handle it the rest of the way through. That worked for about 20 minutes, and by that point in labour 20 minutes felt like an eternity.

Throughout this part of the evening I was battling the fear that the contractions would go on at this level for hours upon hours, and I knew there was no way I could handle them if that happened. It didn't even occur to me that if I'd entered active labour at 7-8 centimeters dilated, that my entire labour was transition, and that's why it felt so scary and intense.
I cried out over and over that I didn't want this to last forever, that I couldn't do it, that it hurt too bad. There were so many calm voices around me, all telling me I could make it through and that it was going to be okay. I kept my eyes closed and tried to stay relaxed between contractions; listening to Jill, Mary Jo and Curtis encouraging me. Just as I started thinking that I was doing okay, the intensity shifted again and suddenly the contractions felt ten times worse. Instead of moaning I was screaming. My spinal fusions felt like they were breaking.



I wanted Jill to check me, to offer some insight that this would end soon. She had me turn around and sit on my bum so she could reach my cervix, and a quick check told her that I was complete. I likely had been for some time now, but I did not feel the urge to push, and after a few more contractions I still didn't feel it. She asked me if I wanted to try a little push during the next contraction to see how it would feel, but my bones hurt so badly that I didn't think I had the strength to. I tried pushing between contractions instead, but instead of relief, it just hurt more. I decided I hated pushing and didn't want to do it at all, ever, for any reason.

The contractions were coming one on top of the other now, and I felt completely out of control. My body felt like it was desperately trying to work through the next stage and couldn't. I refused to push, I felt no urge, I was afraid of the pain, and that nagging fear of this going on forever was starting to get a lot bigger. I was resisting hard and the lack of urge made it easy to hold her in. It had barely been over an hour and a half; this was going way, way too fast and it was scaring the ever-loving crap out of me.

Jill checked me again to see where her head was and felt a giant bulging bag. It was so full that even with the little pushes I was willing to make, it wasn't bringing her down very far. The bag was full enough to dull the urge, which is why I still wasn't feeling anything even as she began to slip through my cervix. During a contraction Jill tried pushing the bag to one side and baby immediately slammed down hard and fast. It was way too intense for me and I asked her to stop. I was so overwhelmed by the experience; I felt like I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I'd now been complete, without the urge to push, with back to back pushing contractions, for probably close to 20 minutes. I was starting to lose myself in the intensity of the experience.
Jill reassured me that I was in control of my labour, and my body, and told me that I could choose how this would go. She was very sensitive to how scared I felt, and how badly I needed the support of those around me, and laid out my choices for me so I knew where I could go from here.
On one hand she could to break my water if I wanted this to go faster: with how fast baby came down when she pushed the bag, she was confident I'd have her out in less than a few minutes if it broke. I'd also finally feel the urge to push.
On the other I could keep the bag in tact and make some pushes on my own time, which would make labour go longer (potentially for some time), but may be a little less intense.
I loved the idea of getting her out sooner, but was way too scared of feeling the urge to push. I opted to keep the bag intact and try self-directed pushing again. I moved back onto my knees, sitting on the cushioned floor of the pool with my head buried in Curtis' shoulder while he gripped my hands.



The next contraction hit and Jill gently reminded me to give pushing another try. I gave a little push, and then a bigger one. It hurt so bad. I started screaming again; it felt like my pelvis was breaking apart, so I screamed louder.
"FUCKING OW!"
"That's it! Get mad at it!" Jill said. Her voice never wavered from positive and gentle; never forceful and never impatient despite my stubbornness. She encouraged me to direct the scream lower and push with it. As the contraction ended I felt shaky and exhausted. I started crying, leaning on Curtis and telling him I was too scared to let her go.
Another contraction hit twenty seconds later. It was too soon; I'd barely had time to take a single deep breath. "Why, why why?" I yelled.
"It's because you're almost done," answered Jill. Her voice was calm and comforting. "Your baby is coming."
I felt the bag of waters bulging out against the bottom of the pool. I tried to lift my bum up off the floor to give it space, knowing she'd be born in the caul if I could, but I just didn't have the strength to hold myself up. As I pushed with the contraction the caul spread out along the bottom of the padded pool floor beneath me and filled with water until it felt tight like an over-inflated balloon. I could feel the pressure in it building against my skin until it had no more room to expand beneath me and popped, shooting amniotic fluid out so fast it nearly lifted my bottom off the floor.
"My water broke!" I yelled. The baby's head came down hard and I could feel her turning as she made her way through my pelvis. The peak of the contraction was too much to bear. Now I felt the urge to push.

I moved my hands down between my legs so I could feel for her head: it was coming out fast and I had no room to birth her in that position. I tried again to lift myself onto all fours, and couldn't: my legs wouldn't work. I had slipped a hip joint just prior to going into labour that night, and it hadn't gone back in yet... I was really feeling it now.
Jill gently reached underneath me to see if she was crowning, seeing as I was in no position to tell her, and upon realizing she was she told me what I already knew, "You can't birth baby in that position Heather, there isn't enough room. You can either move onto all fours or have someone help you turn onto your side."
I already knew all fours was a no-go from my earlier attempts. "On my side," I answered. Curtis and Mary Jo helped me turn onto my side and I pushed hard with another contraction. I felt the burn of her head crowning at its fullest almost immediately. Jill told me she was coming too fast and urged me to huff and puff so I could ease her out without tearing. I could barely hear her over the sound of my own screaming. I opened my eyes and saw her face next to Curtis', both wearing soft expression and looking into my eyes, speaking together, easing me through. They told me I was doing well and that it was almost done. Even as her head crowned I didn't believe them; this was going to last forever and she'd never come out.
"You're doing it," Curtis said.
"She's coming. You're doing it," echoed Jill. They were both smiling. As scared as I was, when I looked into their faces the moment didn't feel as frightening; so long as they kept my gaze, I knew it would be okay.





Jill urged me again to slow down. I was screaming, "Ow, ow, ow!" and couldn't help but push harder. I kept my hands down, supporting my perineum so I could feel her head slip out of me. It was soft and smooth, still partially covered in a bit of the caul. It felt like silk under the water and she slid through my fingers as though she were floating. While I screamed and cried above the surface, below she was emerging peacefully; quick and smooth like a seal gliding through cool water. I gently supported her crowning head with both my hands and pushed hard. I felt a hard popping sensation as the largest part of her head flew between my hands - neck, shoulders, chest all came out in a single, quick movement. I felt her shoulders stretch in small circles as she tried to free one of her arms. Jill reached down to support her body, again urging me to slow down if I could. I couldn't: one more half push and she flew out. Jill caught her as she burst into the water with a gush of blood.
"Reach down and grab your baby!"



My hands were shaking. Is it over? She helped me lift a tiny little body out of the water and pull her toward my chest. As she emerged I saw a grey baby with a head full of thick black hair, dark skin and long fingers. She looked exactly like Jericho. Everything around me quieted and my vision closed in around a vision of her floating in front of me. I watched her come toward me, believing her to be Jericho in my birth delirium even as Jill put her warm body on to mine. I stared at her laying there, watching as she moved her arms and legs and began to cough, but I didn't understand.
"Is she alive? Is she alive?"
"She's alive!"
I didn't hear anyone answering me. "Is she alive?". Her first, soft cries filled the room but I kept repeating the question over and over again. My head was in a bubble of fog and confusion and my heart pounded; I couldn't quite hear or feel her, even though she was laying there on my chest crying and reaching her tiny fingers out. My midwife and doula kept answering me, "Yes, she's alive! She's okay!" until finally something clicked in my brain... and when I looked at her I saw a new baby girl. "She's alive! Oh my god, she's alive!"









Curtis was still sitting on a chair behind me, holding me up, Xan was to one side of the pool with Tempest next to us. She was wiping her eyes a little, tearing silently as she stared at her new sibling.
"Look Tempest, it's a baby!" I said. She smiled brightly in return, but was too stunned to speak.





I picked up my new baby and lay her over my legs, submerged to her chest in the water. She fussed a little, moving her head around and reaching out her arms. I stroked her hair and ran my fingers over the curves of her face, lost in the awe of her existence. Somehow I didn't expect this to happen; to see a new person living and breathing in front of me. I lost track of time, and was no longer aware of anything going on around me. The next thing I remember is Jill saying, "Let's deliver a placenta!" and asking me to push gently through a moderate contraction to get it out. All the fear and anxiety I'd been feeling had melted out of my body and was replaced with a birth high. My spine didn't hurt, my stomach wasn't turning, I felt no heartburn, no nerve pain shooting down my legs... and while my body felt weak from the intensity of such a fast birth, I was floating in the afterglow of natural childbirth.










Xan, eager to help, holds hot towels and waits for someone to ask him for them.

My legs were still quite shaky; birthing her was so intense I didn't think I even had the strength left to sit, so when Jill asked if I could move to the bedroom so she could better gauge my bleeding I was at a loss as to how I'd get there. Curtis had been holding me up all this time, watching our new baby over my shoulder but a little afraid to reach out and touch her lest he let go of me and let me slip completely into the water. Several people had to work together to help me stand up and walk the ten steps to my bedroom. Curtis held me and I held the baby as Jill set up a spot on my bed for me to lay down. My body was melting into the bed as soon as I hit it: it was so comfortable. It felt amazing to lay down and relax.



I was so grateful for the love that surrounded me.





Curtis went into the kitchen and made me a plate of peanut butter toast while the kids cuddled in next to me to stare at their new sister. I grabbed my phone and made a few updates to Twitter and Facebook and Jill joked about my use of technology in birth.



I felt so surreal; like I was floating in a dream. It took hours to come down off the high.
Jill checked me over for tears. I told her I was pretty sure I had torn after feeling that pop of baby's head coming through straight down to her chest: she came out at ludicrous speed.


Upon hearing that Jill is going to check me for tears, the kids' interest is piqued and they both peek down to see what I look like after giving birth.



Surprisingly, everything looked fine. Even my bleeding was good! And after I'd been able to have something to eat and drink, my physical exhaustion went away completely and I felt fantastic.
After we'd had almost two hours to sit and cuddle, Jill asked if she could check baby over. She was so calm and quiet as she was moved to the foot of the bed. The kids gathered around to help cut her cord and Jill got their help weighing and measuring her. Everyone took guesses on her weight. I said 7lbs 8oz, Jill said 8lbs, and Julia the backup midwife said 7lbs 14oz... which was spot on. She was 21 inches long with a 36.5cm head circumference.








Jill involved the kids in everything she did, from weighing and measuring to cutting the cord to listening to her heart... they were in awe of the experience, and never once felt nervous or excluded.





We put the special newborn diaper on her, the same diaper both Xan and Tempest wore immediately after birth, and Curtis swaddled her up and cuddled with her for a bit. She was wide awake, gazing around the room and taking in the world. She stayed in that quiet alert for a good two or three hours before finally having a tiny little nurse and drifting off to sleep.













As Jill was packing up, I apologized to her again for calling her too early. I felt kind of silly being a fourth-timer and still not quite knowing when labour was really coming on. "You may have called me early, but with a case like yours I'd rather you called me too early than wait until you were sure it was labour... with how you were silently progressing before I checked your cervix, if you'd waited until active labour hit to let me know about it I don't think I would have made it in time! And I was three minutes away!"
In retrospect, given how much emotional support I'd so desperately needed during that very intense experience, I'm glad I called her when I did.


Her first smile, and it's at the midwife!



Everyone was gone by 6:30am. Curtis moved out to the livingroom to get an hour of sleep while the kids watched a movie before going to school. They were way, way too excited to keep home all day; we desperately needed some rest after pulling an all-nighter. After the kids were gone Curtis crawled into bed with us and dozed with his hand on Zephyra's belly as she lay sleeping in a loose swaddle. I stayed awake until nearly 10:30 watching her before I was able to drift off.
The rest of the day was filled with love and food and wonderful things. After spending most of the day resting, we invited my family over and had an impromtu welcoming party. My dad and his partner Beth, my brother and his wife and their baby girl, my sister and my mom were all piled into the livingroom celebrating her birth. Everyone brought a dish of food so we had a gorgeous potluck dinner of chicken curry, champagne, olives, bread and good cheese, strawberries and New York cheesecake, fresh seasonal fruit and a large bottle of sparkling white wine. The guy who owns the corner store across the street even gave us a free box of licorice cigars to hand out.
Only 12 hours after she was born and here we were having a big party with everyone loving us up and exchanging food and hugs. It was wonderful. At one point during the event I pulled Curtis aside and told him, "This is what I love about homebirth. If we want a quiet day, we can choose not to tell a soul and do nothing but cuddle to sleep. And if we want a party, we can have a party to welcome her to the world." By that point of the evening I was feeling better than I had in nearly a year; I wanted to celebrate it!

Welcome to the world Zephyra Adia!







All photo credits to Shealyn Jackson Photography.

Now with video!

 

 Be sure to follow Heather on her blog:

http://babyslime.livejournal.com/

 

Tags: birth stories,home birth, water birth, natural birth, disability, midwife, doula, positive birth stories, inspiring birth stories, birth stories with pictures, birth stories with video, birth pictures

  

I can remember having a conversation with my midwife Ellen when Christian, my first, was about a year old.  We were chatting about random things when she pops up with this thought:  "I think a cancer girl would be a nice addition to your family".  (Think, zodiac signs.)  I have no idea if she'd remember saying that but for some reason it always stuck with me.  Cancer girl, I contemplated ... nurturing, earthy and calm.  Sounds nice!   When October rolled around the following year, I waited until about 3 days before ovulation, threw on my hottest lingerie and wiggled a seductive finger "thisa way" to Frank.  He'll tell you he had no part of this, but in my mind, this "cancer girl" was already a done deal!  Without taking a single test at all, my pregnancy was confirmed after 19 days of high temperatures using the sympto-thermal method of NFP.  I was pregnant and due between July 19- 23 depending on calculations. 

Having had such a fulfilling experience with our midwife the last time, we begged Ellen to provide our prenatal care and attend our upcoming birth.  She had to give this decision some serious thought.  While a 7 mile distance separated us the last time, a move to Ohio had taken place since, and from her front door to ours was now exactly 2 hours.  We begged harder and finally, she agreed to take care of us. 

I felt blessed to have enjoyed a fantastic, healthy pregnancy and convinced myself this had to be another boy.  I carried the same, craved the same things and felt the exact same way I did the first time. 

On Sunday July 10th after a typical church and lunch Sunday morning, I jokingly asked Frank how cool it would be to have our baby tomorrow on 7-11.  Better yet, what if the baby was BORN on 7-11, AT 7:11 and WEIGHED 7lbs 11oz?  He playfully rolled his eyes and told me I shouldn't be so superstitious.  Of course my baby would choose his or her own birthday, but that lucky 7-11 was still swirling around my mind. 

July 11th about 4:30am - I awake to dull achiness.  Yuck.  Walking around and a couple of loads of laundry later, I'm fine so I go back to bed.

6:00am - Christian wakes up uncharacteristically early.  He normally gets up at 9 or 10am.  I take the opportunity to get up and make breakfast and spend time with him.  Little did I realize that this would be the last quiet morning, just him and I.

12:00 noon - We both nap.

2:30pm - We both awaken.  I have a super faint bloody show and more dull achiness.  Better call Ellen to fill her in.  She is working on some home improvement project.  I tell her "Don't come now, it's not that bad, I'll call you back in an hour".  MISTAKE!  (but I don't know that yet)  I have my very first contraction while on the phone, and another 2 minutes later.  I manage contractions and walk/breathe through them just fine.  At one point I can remember laying on my bedroom floor, working through a contraction.  My sweet almost 3 year old little boy lays down face to face with me, strokes my cheek and says so reassuringly "It's okay mama, my tummy hurts too." 

I've now totally lost track of time.  I call Frank to alert him that I'm in labor.  I ask his schedule, and he informs me that he has a 4:45 patient coming in and asks if I can wait.  I tell him I'm not sure.  I'm sure I'll be fine.  I'll call him back.  Before I know it, contractions start to get pretty intense.  Crap!  This place is a mess!  I start vacuuming in preparation for my birth team's arrival, which is not working for me too well.  I am on all fours now working through contractions mid-vacuum line, and I call Frank back, sounding panicked, mostly just to get sympathy.  Frank tells me to call someone, anyone, to come over to help with Christian.  I think I'm fine so I don't. 

I manage to call Sam, my doula, a little later and ask her in the most pathetic of voices, "Sam, can you come over???"  Sam is in nursing school and happens to have an exam right then.  She goes to school, pleads with her instructor who completely disregards the urgency of the situation, so Sam (bless her heart), agrees to take a big fat ZERO on my account, and walks out of class.  My other doula Holly is somewhere in the middle of wild, wonderful West Virginia, in transit on her way home from picking her kids up from camp.  Sam calls Holly on her way over, but Holly thinks that maybe I don't really want her here since I didn't call myself.  Oh Jeez Holly!  Get here - QUICK!

Next I remembered that I haven't showered yet and lots of people are coming over to see me naked.  I jump in and suds up.  That shower felt awesome, and in the shower I stayed.  I sent Christian down to unlock the door for Sam.  I am at the point now where my body is in total control, not me.  Sam's voice was heaven and calls out "Chris, I'm here!" and I immediately thank the Lord because it was not the situation in itself that was scary, it was that I couldn't keep tabs on Christian very well, with labor coming on so quick.  Sam assesses the situation and tells me she could hear me from outside - with the windows all closed!  To be fair, the windows aren't great.  They're kind of thin.  Sam goes to get the birth ball for me to lean on in the shower.  I am on all fours.  Sam is now IN the shower with me, rubbing my back and squeezing my hips.  Yes, the shower is running still, where does one find such great friends?

Somebody at some point calls Frank the husband and Ellen the midwife to let them know that is baby is NOT waiting for anyone and that while things are progressing quickly, they are progressing normally.   Totally unknowing to me, Frank has since called off the rest of his patients for the day and is driving the one hour drive home at 90 MPH, praying to God he doesn't get pulled over while listening to the Christian radio station for good measure. 

I hear Holly arrive and I can feel the comfort that brings to all of us.  One more set of eyes, one more person to help.  Sam mumbles some stats and facts to fill Holly in and although I'm not aware because I'm wrapped up in laborland, there are "holy shits" and "WTF's" being mouthed in silence behind my back.  Who cares.  I love, trust and feel safe with these women.  These aren't just ANY women.  These are both intelligent, educated women with experiences both personal and professional that hold a lot of weight in the world of mothering and childbirth.  Sam was well on her way to becoming an RN, IBCLC and has been with LLL for 17 years.  She is a doula and mother of 4 - 3 were home VBAC's!  Holly is an LPN, mother of 4, 2 born at home, childbirth educator and doula and even though she didn't know it then, was on her way to becoming a midwife assistant herself. 

I'm not sure if they make onion sandwiches, but if they do, that's exactly what Holly ate for lunch just before she arrived at my house.  Holly whipped open my shower door, got down to my level, locked eyes with me, and said with more authority than I've ever heard her use "Hey, there is no reason for all that noise.  Use your energy to bring your baby down with sways, moans, breathing."  She may as well have said  "Hhhhhey.  You got any more hhhhhonions?  I could really use some hhhhhelp cutting up some more hhhhhonions so I can have them hhhhhandy."  (Note to self:  Have mints available at next birth.)  We laugh our asses off about this now, but I really though at that moment, if this kid didn't kill me, then surely it would be death by onions.  And Holly is a really hygienic person, so this really came from left field.  *Whew*  I closed my eyes, rocked my hips and thought of my baby.  I was snapped out of my trance by the strangest sensation.  It felt like someone was half way up my can, followed by a discreet "Oop!  A little peanut butter!"  Confusion.  I didn't have peanut butter recently.  There is no peanut butter upstairs, what is she talking about?!  Then the sudden humiliation.  OMG!  No way.  Did I really?  And by the way, if you have any ideas as to how to repay the friend that has just taken the liberty of wiping your fanny, please comment below.  There are just no gifts ... no words .... I love Sam. 

The really good news was that there, in my spacious tiled shower, where my two great friends were helping me deliver my baby, one still half naked and partially wet from the hot running shower, somebody's head was sticking out of me!  But ... already?  Where is the midwife?  Where is my HUSBAND?    My baby was already being born, whether we liked it or not, whether we were prepared or not, whether I thought I could do it practically alone or not.  A tiny new life, with jet black hair and wide eyes (what a view that must have been) fully alert, was well on it's way!  Holly told me that on the next contraction I could push my baby out.  That contraction never came, we just sat there for what seemed like a long long time, probably 30 seconds.  Finally I got too impatient and pushed the baby the rest of the way out in one swoop!  Holly caught the slimy new thing and instructed me to swing my leg over the cord and sit down.  Finally, the intensity of the situation was subsiding just a little since the baby was all the way out.  I just sat and observed.  This baby looked different then the last.  This one had very strong features, a very Romanesque nose and that hair - just black as black can be!  The cord was really short, so much that I could hardly bring the baby up to me.  The girls claimed that they never saw the sex of the baby, but I don't see how they wouldn't have known by then.  Even if they did, they did what they SHOULD have done, which was to let ME discover it and announce it first.  THAT is what is right!  Man, do I LOVE those women!  They just get it, they just know. 

10 minutes later a frantic Frank enters the room with a look of "What just happened in here??".  "Well, what is it?" he asked.  "It's a GIRL!" I exclaim with tears in my eyes!  There she is, the cancer girl, born on 7-11.  A dream come true!  I finally had the chance to rinse the conditioner out of my hair, so I finished up my shower and noticed the bittersweet feeling of an empty belly, but a heart swollen with love and appreciation. 

She was born around 5:15 pm - we forgot to look!  Just in time for dinner!  And speaking of dinner, I had a tray of lasagna downstairs in the fridge that Sam threw in the oven.  We left the new baby girl's cord intact for a long time, and I delivered her placenta via the midwife over speakerphone.  What a circus!  Our baby was pink, alert, breathing, perfect!  Apgars 10 and 10. 

Ellen finally arrived 45 minutes later.  I was WAY off on that timing, and I take full responsibility for not telling her to head down sooner.  But how should I have known I'd have a 2 hour 45 minute labor??  It was a whirlwind of an ordeal, but this birth taught me more about trust, the birth process and my body's capabilities than I'd ever realize.  I had no tears, no stitches, no trauma and birthed her on hands and knees hugging that birth ball, the way that felt right. 

After Ellen's newborn check, the birth team threw in some laundry, cleaned up, and brought plates of dinner up for all of us to enjoy while we got to fall in love with our newest family member.  One of my best friends, Shayla, arrived then, to check out the new addition and to bond with the family.  I smiled an appreciative smile, as I watched from my bed, as she got out of her car with a huge tote of girl clothes.  We're not finder-outers, didn't have a single ultrasound, but we were covered!  (I love you, Shayla!)  A couple hours later, I was in Christian's room installing his bed frame so he could sleep in his new bed that night.  Okay, truthfully, I was afraid Frank wouldn't do it right so I wanted to do it myself, but the picture we caught always gives us a chuckle!

When our baby girl was one week old, we named her Francesca (after her daddy) Alexa (after St. Alexander).  She was 7lbs 6oz and 20 inches,  black haired and blue eyed!   Six years later, she has proven to be exceptionally nurturing, which is helpful since we added two more siblings after her.  She is also very calm and reserved.  We are blessed by her presence.  Happy 6th Birthday Francesca Alexa, my beautiful girl!

 

Tags: home birth, natural birth, positive birth stories, birth, birth stories, free birth, midwife, doula, midwife stories, doula stories, natural home birth, homebirth, 

    I call my midwife and let her know whats going on. My contractions are between 7 and 10 minutes apart. Getting stronger. I decide to go see my chiropractor and get a quick adjustment. I have to take a shower first and while I am in there, I am getting hit over and over again by contractions. I feel everything in my upper belly. They are so strong I am already vocalizing. I start to worry 'Is this normal?' We get in the car to start our 30 minute drive. A bit uncomfortable but I manage to stay relaxed and keep my mouth slack and open. I go in, get adjusted and my Amazing chiropractor, C, gives me wonderful encouragement and a big hug. It is exactly what I needed at that moment. She has been adjusting me since about 27 weeks. I am very grateful to her.

    After I am adjusted I am rocked by 3 contractions that are 3 minutes apart. I decide that I want to swing by my midwifes, Adrian, birth center and have her check to see if my waters had broken. I decided not to have her check my dilation. This was an issue in my previous birth. She found that my waters had not broken. We got back into the car and drove to Target to get a few last minute supplies. Once there, my contractions were 5 minutes apart. And hard. I was stomping my foot through them and banging my hand rhythmically on the cart. I think my 3 year old Aaron was a little freaked out! But it was helping me cope. It was now around 12pm. I had one contraction that was stronger than anything I had yet experienced. I told Eric it was time to go, now! We leave and head home. Eat lunch, get Aaron down to nap. Make some calls. Try to rest. But I couldn't lay down. It all just felt worse laying down.

    Being a doula myself, I had access to a few doulas for my birth. One was my sister, Jaclyn, who would be traveling over an hour to get to me. The other, Amber, one of my best friends. Allison was another close friend. She was "head" doula. She had been keeping in touch with me all day so far. Texting, calls, she was keeping tabs. Around 4pm she came over and began timing me. I was between 4 - 8 minutes apart. Very vocal. Getting longer, stronger and closer together. Aaron woke up from nap and my other sister Niki came over to help out and entertain him. I needed him to go so she took him out to eat and play. Eric started to set up the tub and this is where things get hazy for a bit.

    Allison asked if I wanted to get into the regular tub while Eric blew up our birth tub. She made me some chicken noodle soup and I ate a ton of it. She took pictures and I called my mom. Called Amber. She got there around 6:30. I was very active. I think they were around 3 minutes apart. Waves crashing. Taking me out to sea. Allison calls my midwife, Adrian, and her apprentice, K, and tells them they need to get here NOW. I didn't know it until much later but Allison and Amber were preparing to catch this baby. It seemed like I was about to give birth.

    I have to say now, that Eric was the most amazing birth partner. He was my rock and the only thing that got me through the contractions at times. His whispered words of encouragement, the kisses and holding my entire body weight through entire contractions. I am so blessed we had this experience together. I know we are capable of anything. I am very luck to have him.

    Adrian and K get to my home around 8:30. I know most of what I'm about to tell you from my birth record. Once they got there I was in the tub. They checked the baby's heart rate, perfect 140's, and did the usual stuff. My contractions spaced out to around 7-8 minutes. My sister Jaclyn arrives. I zone out in the tub for an hour or two. They ask me to get out. I sit in the rocking chair. Things get heavy. Really heavy. I cling to Eric. I loudly vocalize through every contraction. Searing pain that I can only pound my fist to rhythmically to cope. I look up at Adrian and say "I don't want to do this." She grabs my previous birth records and write on the back "I CAN do this!" And puts it next to me to read. I am shaking and hot and cold. They tell me this is transition.

    I tell them I want to get into bed with Eric, I am tired. Its 12:30am. I get back in the tub and they space out. They gave me a few spoonfuls of honey and some coconut water. Adrian asks me if K can check me. I agree. Lets see how much longer we have. I have a killer contraction and jump out of the tub, waddle to my bed and am hit with another. I lay down and she checks me. 9cm, -2 station, bag of waters bulging. I begin to cry. "I'm not broken! My body can this! I can do this!" I get back into the tub and wait. And wait. And wait. They give me toast. They change my positions. Contractions continue to space out. It's now 3:30 am. I'm in bed with Eric again. They ask me to try pushing a little to see what happens. I get up on my knees and push. I have a large gush of fluids. I am scared but thrilled this is almost over. Nothing else happens. I get back in the tub. I fall asleep, wake at the top of a contraction, fall back asleep. My midwife asks if she can check me to see whats going on in there. Its now 4:38am. Whats she finds is more devastating than I have words for. I am only 4-5cm. Baby high at -4 station. Waters not broken. I cry. I am heartbroken.

    My contractions space out to 10-11 minutes apart. My midwives leave to get some rest. I am angry. I am scared. My sister asks me if I can take anything to help me sleep. Eric calls Adrian at 7am and she agrees. I sleep until she calls back 2:38pm. I feel rested. I am still contracting every 10 minutes. I take another sleeping pill and sleep until 5:30pm when Allison calls and says she will bring us dinner. I ask for a cheeseburger :) She had gone home as well earlier, got called to another birth, and then came back to me. Doulas are amazing! I go back to bed and send her home to get some sleep. Eric and I have long talks about what is happening. I feel we should make plans in case of a transfer. We fill the birth tub with fresh hot water, have a glass of wine and wait for something to happen. I am exhausted to tears.

    We call Adrian back around 9:30pm to tell her contractions are picking up. I am excited. I tell her not to come yet but that I wanted her to know they were finally 5-8 minutes again. They space back out again. I tell Eric I am done. I cannot do this anymore. It's 4am. I want to transfer. We decide to transfer to the hospital close to Adrian's birth center and stop in to see her first. Maybe have her check me. She finds I am 5-6cm and we are all encouraged. I am making progress, even if it is slow. She asks me if I want to rest in the tub and let Eric get some sleep. I do and while I am in the tub she comes in and we talk. She tells me how she became a midwife and tells me stories. She sits quietly while I breathe through contractions and rubs my bells when they end. Midwives are beautiful people. I wish everyone has access to Adrian for their births. She does a rebozo on me and we order breakfast. After I eat, contractions come on. They get as close as 2-3 minutes. My chiropractor comes over and adjusts me again. We talk about my fears and I feel better. Contractions space out again. I slowly feel my VBAC slipping away. I take herbs. I do nipple stimulation. I squat. I do everything and anything. Nothing works. aAt 7pm we decide to have her check me. I am still 5-6cm. I decide to transfer. I cry harder than I can ever remember. I still feel a lump in my throat now. I know that I have lost my VBAC. I feel failure like I have never known.

    Adrian talks to me about where I want to go. I can go to the hospital down the street, but she doesn't know the OB on call and she doesn't know how we, a VBAC home birth transfer, will be treated. She tells us about a hospital that is an hour away. They are amazing, she says. She knows the OB's there. They will give us the things that we feel are important during a c-section. I look out side and see it's snowing. I find it ironic that I had been telling our son Aaron my entire pregnancy, that it would be snowing when his brother or sister was born. And it was.

    We get in the car and suddenly its a whole new ball game. Contractions are coming every 2 minutes lasting 2 minutes. I am screaming, I have no coping skills left. I am begging, pleading, for the pain to stop. I'll do anything, please just make it stop. I hate this. I want to throw myself out of the car. I yell at Eric, punch the seats and the ceiling. Anything to escape the pain. It is like nothing I have ever felt. It's snowing hard. We are on back, winding roads, in a New Hampshire blizzard. Stuck behind a sanding truck. You can't make this stuff up!

    We get to the hospital and I jump out of the car and run {I feel like I was running, it was more like a fast waddle} at Allison. I tell her to help me, Pleas help me! I feel something come out of me. I tell her I think my water broke. She feels my legs and says she can't tell. So, in the middle of the parking lot...I pull down my pants to check. I don't care. Modesty be damned. Its just a lot of show {blood and mucus, seen when you are dilating.} Allison tells me to ask to be checked and if I am more dilated we will leave and I will push the baby out in the back of my Subaru. This hospital has a vbac ban.

    We get inside and the OB checks me, says I am still only 6cm. More crushing failure. It takes them 5 tries to get an IV going. They finally hold me down and put it in my wrist. The part where your hand meets your wrist. Not a good spot. But they gave me pain meds. They did nothing. I am still screaming. I am quiet embarrassed about how loud I was. I really didn't care at the time though. My back was on fire. They had to get 2 bags of fluid down before they could do surgery. At some point I just...gave up. I withdrew into my self. I stopped fighting and let the pain wash over me. It was all I could do. There was no running left to do. I had lost my vbac and now all I wanted was for the pain to just stop. I was half sitting on the edge of the hospital bed. Allison asked me to have them check me again. My midwife told me to as well. I might be 9cm and could still do this. It will remain one of my biggest regrets that I did not. They could clearly see I was in transition. Because when I stood up to walk to surgery, my waters really did break. It is with a heavy heart that I tell you I walked into the OR next.

    My surgery went was well as a section can go. They dropped the curtain for me to see the delivery. They let Eric announce the sex, Another BOY!, and let me have my amazing doula Allison be there too. She held my hand and rubbed my face. She sang Amazing Grace to me so she could help me it a better experience for me. The OB leaned over the steril drap to tell me that my uterus had torn along the incision line, a 3cm extension and that I will never be able to attemp another vaginal birth. My heart is crushed and I feel like I am dying inside. Avery David was born at 12:16am on January 16th, 2011. 8lbs11oz 19 inches

    It still hurts me. Yes, I have a beautiful son. Yes, he is healthy. But that's not all that matters. My experience matters too. I hope one day I can try for a VBA2C, reguardless of what my OB said. I hope one day I will know what it feels like to push my baby out into the world. I want to hear someone say, "Cari, grab your baby!" and have my messy baby placed on my chest and know I am the first person who touches them. I hope no one ever knows the pain of a failed birth. I hope one day I will feel okay with everything that happened and the choices I made. I hope one day I can say proudly that I am not broken. I know I am a great many years from this.

    I am forever grateful to everyone who supported me through my pregnancy and labor. Without you, I wouldn't learned all I did about myself and my ability's. I know I left out a lot of stuff. Some of it was too personal and close to my heart to share and some I forgot. But this is it. All 67 hours of labor. It may not be the perfect labor but it's mine. And I am proud of it.

My amazing support

Just breathe

Getting heavy

Me and Jaclyn

52 Hours in. Can you tell?

Right after getting to the hospital

Surgery

We have a boy!

10 minutes after birth, doing skin to skin with Daddy, waiting for me to get out of surgery.

I love you Eric!

Big Brother Aaron getting lots of love

So in love with his brother

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Tags: VBAC, vaginal birth after cesarean,  VBAC stories, hospital transfer, hospital transfer stories, attempted home birth with hospital transfer, ruptured uterus, torn uterus, rupture, cesarean section stories,  midwife, doula 

This is a very long story, not because a lot happened, but because I experienced a lot while it was happening.

I want to note that I do not mention God in the course of this telling, not because He was absent from the event, but because His presence permeated the event. Conception is a prayer. Birth is a prayer. The closeness of my relationship with my husband is a prayer. I tend to pray physically and emotionally rather than verbally, so when I speak of calming, of embracing the power within myself, it is all rooted in my connection with God. I believe that God was and is present in all, and so I chose not to be redundant in the telling of this story.

First, I have outlined some of the events that took place before labor started:

Starting after week 20 when I've had an ultrasound to confirm a happy, healthy resident within my womb, I begin the HypnoBabies Home Study course. I am a firm believer in the power of a positive attitude, and that our state of mind has more to do with our physical well-being than we tend to give it credit for.  While practicing the HypnoBabies course, almost without fail I slip into deep hypnosis and experience what is termed "hypnotic amnesia." This means that I remember starting the session, going into the relaxed state, then can't remember anything else until I spring awake to the sound of the instructor counting upwards from one to three. I have listened to each track while making myself stay conscious, so I know I wasn't receiving any hypnotic suggestions that were out of line – to the contrary, it all made a great deal of logical sense to me.

Oct 11th: I arrive at my 36 week appointment. I have scheduled this appointment with an OB rather than my midwife because hospital policy requires two prenatal visits with an OB for mothers seeking a VBAC. The OB discovers that my baby has flipped to a breech presentation, which is the reason I had a C-Section with my first child. I leave the office feeling very upset but trying hard to remain positive about the baby flipping back head-down. I schedule a version (where the OB manipulates the baby from the outside to flip back head-down) for the next day.

Oct 12th: I've downloaded the HypnoBabies track for flipping a breech baby and listened to it once at home. I go in for my version and bring my iPod with the track loaded on it. As they are doing the non-stress-test for the baby before the version, I listen to the track a second time and slip into deep hypnosis. I wake up as the instructor counts from one to three, and within five minutes the OB arrives to begin the version. The entire process takes maybe a minute and, quite honestly, tickles. Women often speak of how painful a version is, but it was not in the least bit painful. The OB and nurse comment about how great my relaxation technique is.

Nov. 3rd: I'd been experiencing prelabor off and on for a few weeks (ever since the version, actually) with the intensity increasing bit by bit. I woke up at 3am and noticed I was having regular contractions. I started to time them and noticed that they were about three to five minutes apart. This lasted about two hours when, as I was about to let Chris know what was going on, it struck me that he had some work to complete on a job site (he's a self-employed handyman) and that having the baby that day would not only set him back on his timeline, but really inconvenience the other contractors he was working with and cause his paycheck to be delayed for at least a week. Of course, once I thought of that, the prelabor came to an abrupt halt.

Nov. 5th: Chris was done with the bulk of his job and was going to take this day off (after running one last quick errand to the job site) so we could take our daughter to the zoo and enjoy the last of the good fall weather, and some walking for mama! At around 10 a.m. he called home to inform me that the majority of his work tools had been stolen from his work truck. No zoo, no family time, no contractions this day. Lots of stress and phone calls to the police and the insurance company.

Nov. 8th: My due date arrives, and our toddler celebrates with a bout of the stomach bug! I spend my due date soothing and cleaning up after my vomiting child, praying that I don't get sick and terrified that I'll have to deliver a baby while vomiting from my toes.

Nov. 10th: I see my midwife, who informs me that I'll need to make an appointment with the OB to discuss induction options in case I am still pregnant by the following Monday. I'd like to note here that I had an amazing midwife for my prenatal care – very hands-off, very relaxed about the fact that I was a VBAC patient, and very encouraging that I could have the delivery I was hoping for. I chose the practice and the hospital based on their fabulous VBAC success rate and their low-intervention approach. However, I was going to be 41 weeks pregnant and they do have policy tied up in liability that would require they suggest induction after a certain point. I knew I had the right as a patient to refuse, but I also knew as a mother that I had to weigh risk and reward and make some tough decisions if my labor didn't begin naturally.

And so begins the story...

I left the midwife's office feeling frustrated. I knew that in order for labor to begin and succeed naturally, I needed to have some alone time with my baby to come to peace with a great many fears I was experiencing. My dear friends, who were going to watch Morgan for us at the time of actual labor, agreed to watch her for me that day, since they'd had a premonition that things would begin for me that day – I called them as they were walking to the phone to call me. Right before going to see my friends I spoke to the mother of another friend – the mother is a hypnotherapist and had guided her own daughter through a hypnobirth. She gave me a beautiful pep talk that really set the tone for my attitude the rest of that day.

I dropped Morgan off with our friends, then went straight to my chiropractor for an adjustment and another very good pep-talk. She had me speak out loud to my baby and ask him if he was ready to be born. I could feel that he was, and that it was definitely my fears that were keeping him inside. I knew that I needed to release those fears before anything productive could happen, so after leaving the chiropractor I called my husband and asked him to come home and spend the evening with me so we could both center and ready ourselves for the arrival of our new family member.

Over the course of the evening we discussed quite a bit about fear, and how it can impede success. As absolutely geeky as this sounds, I asked Chris if he had the Litany Against Fear from Dune memorized, because I might want – or need – him to recite it to me to help put me in the right frame of mind while laboring. Of course, he rattled it off without a moment's hesitation–  I love my husband :).

I personally find this litany to be very powerful:

"I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing...Only I will remain."

I firmly believe that fear stops progress in many ways. We build mental and emotional blocks, which can in turn become physical blocks. Fear can and does stop labor. It isn't anything mystical - it is a natural safeguard against danger. When women were birthing in caves with wolves howling at the door, they needed a way to protect their offspring. If labor had begun and the wolves crept too close, a women had to be able to flee to safer ground to complete the delivery of her child out of harm's way. It just makes sense. It happens to other species in the animal kingdom. It is how we survive. This, along with the anatomical structures within the muscles of the uterus, is something I learned about through the HypnoBabies Home Study Course. That is another reason I really loved the course – it wasn't just about state of mind, it was very educational and taught me a lot about my body that I didn't know before.

The difference for women today is that the wolves at the door are mostly of our own making and in our own heads. Escaping a fear that is born from within takes a little more mental control and faith. I needed to spiritually ground myself that night with my husband by my side in order to believe that I was truly safe and could deliver our baby into the world.

Our friends were kind enough to keep Morgan overnight, and Chris and I had a close and beautiful evening together. The next morning I was awakened at 3 a.m. by a rather strong contraction. I got up and went to sit by the computer with my timer. I had a couple at 12-15 minutes apart, but nothing exciting. Eventually I found myself wandering to YouTube. There I searched for HypnoBabies Birth and found this beautiful video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JlG1j2lNm6A).

It apparently inspired me, because minutes after I finished watching it my contractions began to get closer together, until they were between 5-7 minutes apart. I timed them for about an hour, then decided to go back to bed to see if they persisted. They did, and I continued timing as long as I could. I dozed off between a couple, but would be wakened by the intensity, which I saw as a good sign.

After three hours of this, I decided to wake up Chris and let him know. I called the hospital to see if they wanted me to come in yet (yes, 5-7 isn't very close, but I'd been sternly reminded time and again that for a VBAC they wanted me in sooner than with a "normal" labor, so anything strong and persistent under 10 minutes apart I was advised to call). The nurse on the phone's response was, "Oh, we don't like having VBAC moms laboring like that at home! You need to come in now!" So, we did.

On the drive to the hospital, I kept worrying that I would get to the hospital and everything would stop. I didn't want to be one of those that they "sent home." After all, I'd been having contractions off and on since 36 weeks – I'd waited until they were intense enough to wake me from a deep sleep and close enough that the nurse on the phone wanted me at the hospital.

Well, to keep this portion of the story short: I was sent home. As soon as I walked into the triage room they went from 5-7 minutes to a half hour apart. I was only slightly more dilated than I'd been the day before. Nothing worth staying for.

Upon leaving the hospital, it dawned on me that the triage room was my last point of fear. That is where I'd been when they informed me that Morgan was breech and where the OB had so callously delivered the verdict of “You just bought yourself a C-Section.” (Yes, those were her exact words.) I needed to ball up that memory of triage and throw it away. It had nothing to do with the present.

Which brings me to another relevant movie quote. This is the exchange between Simba and Rafiki from The Lion King. Rafiki has just hit Simba on the head with his walking stick:

Simba: What was that for?
Rafiki: It doesn't matter, it's in the past.
Simba: Yeah, but it still hurts.
Rafiki: Yes, the past can hurt, but the way I see it, you either run from it, or learn from it.

My body was still running from the past. I needed to let that part of it go, and hold on to the lessons learned. I'd already acted on everything I'd learned from that experience – that I needed to be my own advocate, that I needed to listen closely to my body, and that I needed to be prepared to accept whatever may happen that was outside of my control. I hadn't made my first child flip breech. I hadn't made my water break before discovering this. I hadn't chosen to go into labor on the night that the one OB in town who I didn't trust was on-call. I had done the best I could in the situation at that time, and my beautiful baby girl was born to the world. That was then. This was now. I needed to separate the two events once and for all.

We went to see our friends who were caring for our daughter. When I exited the car at their house my contractions began again (right in the driveway!). They returned to the 7-10 minute range while we were there, because my body knew it was safe. Eventually we decided to go home so we could rest. We brought my daughter home with us because we missed her and wanted to have the evening with her, knowing that within the next 48 hours the baby would be here for sure.

We had a nice evening together. Chris did his best to keep Morgan from bothering me as I was having more and more intense contractions, so I could be left to center and calm myself, but quite honestly, one of the most beautiful moments of the entire night happened while Morgan was with me. One of the physical and verbal cues taught in the HypnoBabies course to put the mother into a relaxed state is to have the birthing partner say the word "Peace" and place their hand on the mother's shoulder.  In my case, I chose the physical cue of having Chris put his hand on top of my head – it's a gesture he's done from the beginning of our relationship to help put me into a calmer state of mind. Since Morgan wanted to cuddle with me in bed while I was trying to relax myself, I decided that she could help. I explained that when I asked her to, I needed her to put her hand on my head and say "Peace" because it made Mommy feel good. And she did, gently and proudly. It was really special to have her with me and helping in her own small way to bring her baby brother into the world.

At around 7pm, we got Morgan into her jammies and put her to bed. We both read to her and tucked her in for the night. She was exhausted from all the fun she'd had with our friends and fell right to sleep.

Soon after putting Morgan to bed, I had two things happen that lead me to believe the show was very much on the road. Yuck warning: I lost my mucous plug and had quite a bit of bloody show, and my intestines decided to empty themselves. At that time my contractions had gotten close enough that they were erring on the side of 5 minutes, though with breaks as long as 7 minutes. I called the hospital again to check in, and this time the person who answered the phone was very nonchalant about it, even though I was a VBAC patient. She advised me to just labor at home as long as I was comfortable. I didn't particularly want to go hang out at the hospital again, so I gladly followed her advice.

By about 8 my contractions were still floating between 5-7 minutes apart, but were intensified. I was having "back labor" (I guess – my lower back was hurting with each contraction), but I discovered that if I applied pressure to the two points above my hip bones in my lower back, it was like an "off" switch for the pain. At this point I didn't feel the "pain" was really all that bad, and found it easy to manage using the pressure points and hot baths/showers.

At this time I also stumbled upon a really, really funny website - damnyouautocorrect.com. I could not keep from laughing out loud – really, really out loud – and kept reading through all the contractions because a friend of mine had advised that laughter, especially mouth-wide-open laughter, is good for dilating the cervix (that whole mind/body connection). I probably read the site off and on from 8 to 9. At one point Chris even came running into the bedroom to check on me because I was laughing so hard he thought I was sobbing.

Around 8:30, my friend, who is a doula, stopped by to check on us. She wasn't able to be my doula for the birth due to some prior obligations but was nice enough to check in. Apparently the HypnoBabies calming and relaxing techniques were working because she took one look at me and said, "Oh, you're nowhere near having this baby! You probably won't need to go anywhere until tomorrow morning." And after a visit of about ten minutes she left, with the promise to come check by again the next morning.

At around 9, I crawled into bed to rest for a bit and asked Chris to come be with me. I put on the HypnoBabies "Easy First Stages" track and we listened to that as the contractions got more and more intense. After listening to the track, we got back up and seriously discussed getting a hotel room in Waconia so we'd be closer to the hospital when the "real" deal started. It was about 9:30 when Chris began looking for a hotel room.

It was while Chris was in the living room on the phone with the hotel that I, alone in the bedroom, started having what seemed to be a never-ending contraction. It started, got very strong, then abated for maybe half a minute before intensifying again. I waited for it to end, then realized that it wasn't one long contraction after all – my contractions had just suddenly jumped from 5-7 minutes apart to 30 seconds - 1 minute apart. I walked out to the living room just as Chris hung up with the hotel and informed him that we weren't staying at the hotel after all, and we needed to go NOW. (Note: the hotel was kind enough to refund our stay – it helped that we called them at 3am with a squawking newborn in the background!).

I called the downstairs neighbor who was kind enough to agree to stay at our place for the night so our friends (who only had one car, and that car was out for the evening) could come pick Morgan up in the
morning. Chris ran to pull the carseat from the car and bring it inside, and I did my best to keep my wits about me as the contractions came rolling one on top of the other. In a flash of inspiration I grabbed the baby's ring sling, wrapped it around my back and under my belly, and used it to apply pressure to my back whenever a contraction hit. That made things more tolerable. Chris calmly escorted me to the car and we got underway.

Now, between when the contractions made their magical jump and when we got to the car, I was not using any "calming" techniques. I was in, "Get the hell out of the house and to the hospital quickly!" mode. I was scared, anxious, and hurting. I was so oblivious to anything but "get to the car" that I was even groaning loudly through contractions in the elevator, not caring who might be there when the door opened (and generally I try to behave with some decorum in public areas!). When we got to the car, I called the hospital one more time, let them know what was going on and got instructions on what to do when we arrived (it was sometime between 10 and 10:15 when we hit the road, so we had to enter the hospital through the Emergency Room). With that last "must-do" task out of the way, I figured it was time to start focusing on calming myself.

I found my iPod and put on my soothing music (http://tinyurl.com/38jyq9r), and just... relaxed. I don't recall doing anything consciously, it just happened. I attribute that to the self-hypnosis training – all the tools I needed were in place, and I didn't have to work for any of it. The music I selected was from a CD I'd owned since college (which, for some perspective, was over ten years ago). It's the CD I listened to whenever I needed to zen myself into a state of peace for writing (which was my profession prior to motherhood). It was also the album that I added to my HypnoBabies playlists on my iPod – I'd listen to whatever track was relevant for the day, then the music would play. That way the music was closely tied to the hypnosis training.

It was truly amazing how quickly I found peace and centering on the drive to the hospital. When a contraction came along, I would apply pressure to my back, then let it roll through me. I found myself chanting "open, open, open," again, not a conscious decision, it just felt like the right thing to do, and it helped bring me to a more relaxed state.

After a good long drive through deer-infested wilderness (it's about 30-45 minutes to the hospital from our apartment, depending on traffic and lights, through some beautiful countryside. A little part of my brain was actually set aside for looking out for deer – I have better night vision than my husband and the last thing I wanted to do was hit a deer on the way to the hospital! Funny how our minds work sometimes...), we arrived. I was wheeled up to the labor and delivery floor and put straight into triage. They hooked me up to the monitors and went to get the midwife. Chris supported me again through the wave of contractions. When the midwife checked me, I was dilated between a four and five. This was just after 11p.m.

Another side note here: the midwife on call that night was the other midwife (there are two at this practice) and, strangely enough, the very first time I saw her, I had a premonition that she would be the one to deliver my baby. I even told a friend about it at the time. I loved my prenatal midwife, and I loved the midwife who delivered my baby – both women are outstanding at what they do and I would recommend them to anyone!

Back to the story...

We were moved to our birthing suite. This whole time I'd kept my iPod going with an ear bud in one ear so I could hear my music but still interact with the hospital staff. The nurse was fabulous (I want to keep her forever!) and would acknowledge when I was having a contraction and sit quietly until it passed. Chris was also incredibly amazing through all of those contractions – without fail he was on the
spot to apply pressure with one hand and place his other hand on top of my head, saying the "peace" cue along with other soothing words. There were many times when I would be so overwhelmed with love for him by the end of the contraction that I'd curl up against him or lean over for a kiss. The bond between us at those times was indescribably strong.

We hooked my iPod up to the docking station (our room had a built-in docking station with surround sound, so very nice!) and turned the lights down way low. It was incredibly relaxing and very calming to have the music play throughout the room – I think it really set the tone for everyone. The nurse and midwife both noted several times throughout the evening that we were doing an amazing job working together, and that my relaxation technique was really good. Again, I know that half the credit goes to my husband and how in-tune he is with my needs. I am a very, very lucky woman!

One of the first things the midwife did was to break my water and hook me up with internal monitors. Because I was a VBAC patient, this was required, and quite honestly I'd take internal monitors over external any day. I hate the feeling of anything strapped on my belly – I could hardly even stand pants or skirts with maternity panels because the pressure on my belly was annoying.

I'm not sure what time it was when she broke my water. For the next hour or so, the only way I marked time was by the music that was playing. I believe we listened through the playlist at least once and had started it over again before things once again changed up. There were times during this phase when, quite honestly, I had contractions that made me giggle. I'm not sure what it was, but they really did kind of tickle.

By the time it was nearing 1 a.m., the contractions I'd been having that compelled me to chant, "Open, open, open..." had changed to a chant of "Down, down, down..." I could feel the urge to push down and
out, but until the midwife gave me the green light, I didn't want to give in to the urges. This was the one time when things got really intense again – not painful, just intense. This is one of the least flattering descriptions, but one that will likely be universally understood: when I was fighting against the "push out" contractions, it felt very much like that body-wracking shakes you get from violent diarrhea. I had just gotten onto the birthing ball to try leaning forward against the bed and rocking my hips when these began. The midwife came back in and asked me what the contractions felt like. I described it to her, and she said it was time to do another check. This time when she checked, I was fully dilated and ready to push. It was just after 1 a.m.

Some of you may notice that something is missing in this narrative: transition. Having just read up on transition, I believe that the few minutes (really, it didn't seem like a very long time) where I was having those body-wracking shakes might have been transition, but it wasn't horrible at all. Like I said, it just made me shake more. It didn't hurt. I can say that with absolute honesty. And once I was given the go-ahead to give into those urges and push, the shaking stopped.

In 99% of life you will NOT hear me use this phrase, but when it comes to laboring, I just have to say: ignorance is bliss. My contractions were not timed. I was not on the clock. I wasn't told what “stage” I was going through. My midwife and my nurse simply said “let your body do what it knows to do” and that was it. THAT helped so much! Had I been told, “Those contractions are 90 seconds apart…” I would have been feeling every moment that passed. I was not placed under a microscope – rather, it felt very much like the tide washing in, rolling over me and through me, a completely natural occurrence that was nudging me toward the horizon of my child's birth. Though I glanced at the clock a handful of times, no one ever called out the hour. It was a timeless transformation from mother to mother and child.

As I started pushing, I tried leaning backward against the back of the bed. It worked all right for a while, but it wasn't quite right. I tried a couple different positions before we decided that, based on my pelvic shape and what felt good, I should lay completely flat on my back with my knees by my ears (well, not literally – I'm not that bendy!). The midwife agreed that it was a very counter-intuitive position, but that with how things we working for me, it might be our best option. And, quite honestly, it was by far the most comfortable position for me.

The pushing portion of labor went very smoothly. I don't know how else to describe it. When I felt the urge to push, I'd push. Neither the nurse nor the midwife ever told me to hold my breath or started counting to ten for me. They encouraged me to breathe through the pushing but to keep my muscles engaged. At this point the little voice in my head kept repeating, "I'm a belly dancer! I can totally do this!" The big, masculine voice outside of my head was also saying beautiful, encouraging things to me the whole time. They had turned on the "spot light" (like the light at the dentist's office, but shining elsewhere) and had told me to imagine pushing the baby in that direction. Chris took that and said, "Push our baby into the sunlight, birth him into the sun" – it was beautiful.

I did request the mirror while pushing, knowing that I'm the kind of person who performs better when I can see results taking place. I will admit that I didn't have any starry, "Wow, that's really my baby!" euphoria. I did have a, "Wow, that's him," moment, but after that I went back into the mindset of, "I have a task to finish." Well, watching the progress did help quite a bit. When I reached the point where I was crowning, I recall thinking, "Is this it? That's not really so bad..." Again, I attribute that mainly to the fact that I wasn't afraid. I had also been coaching myself that I wasn't going to experience the "ring of fire" sensation because I'm a fire performer and I know how to deal with fire. Totally a mind-game, but it appears to have worked! Oh, and I was completely lax about "preparing" my perineum for birth, but the midwife did apply oil while I was pushing. I kept cracking up the nurse because I am very, very ticklish, and every time the midwife would put more oil on, I'd giggle. I'm assuming they don't get many people giggling during labor.

Once he crowned I believe it took one more good push and he came all the way out. His left hand was tucked up by his face – I remember that. And I remember thinking, "Damn... that's a lot of baby!" (He was 9 pounds, 4 ounces and 20 inches long.) They placed him right up on my chest, just like I had wanted. I just remember feeling how warm and close he was. I looked at Chris and saw the joy beaming from his eyes. There was one itsy bitsy tear at the corner of his eye, and for Chris, that's a lot. This is quite honestly the part of the delivery that is the most blurry – I remember everything in a haze, but mostly just remember how incredible it felt to be holding my baby. He was born at 1:41 a.m. – a mere four hours after the “OMG it's time!” contractions started at home.

The midwife let the cord finish pulsing before she clamped it and let Chris cut it. The placenta delivered very soon after and everything was fine. Upon inspection, it was found that I had one tiny nick on the inside, so she put in a single suture and that's all I needed.

And that, more or less, is how Jameson came into the world. I was allowed to get up out of the bed after an hour and had no trouble at all walking. It felt good to have control of my body through the whole process, to feel and move my limbs as my body directed. Was it entirely pain-free? Not entirely, not until I got centered and was able to relax was I able to roll with the punches, so to speak. Was it painful? When taking that word to mean “full of pain,” then: No. I can say that for sure. Uncomfortable, odd, different – but certainly not agonizing! It was totally doable, incredibly empowering, and a truly beautiful experience.

There is no reason why a healthy mother giving birth to a healthy baby shouldn't be able to have a successful VBAC, and even a beautiful natural VBAC should she so choose. Preparing to give birth helped me finish healing the emotional scars of the C-Section. Giving birth opened me to a whole new side of myself and helped me access wisdom, insight, and power that I never knew I had.

I would like to thank the staff of Ridgeview Medical Center in Waconia, MN, for the amazing experience, the grace and the respect shown toward my body and its natural abilities.

Please feel free to share this story far and wide.

Theresa
Age 30
C-Section performed 01 Jan 08, girl, 7 lbs 4 oz, 18”, 9/9 APGAR
VBAC delivery 12 Nov 10, boy, 9 lbs, 4 oz, 20”, 9/9 APGAR

Tags:VBAC, vaginal birth after cesarean, VBAC birth stories, natural birth stories, positive birth stories, birth stories with video, hypnobabies, hypno babies birth stories, breech, pressure waves, birth video, midwife

My husband was doing my head in at this stage! He was talking SO LOUDLY, about stupid things, and I just wanted quiet. The kids were following me around as I worked through each contraction. I yelled at him to go away, take the kids to his mother's, as I wanted to be alone!

My husband had been traumatised by our other kid's births, and throughout the pregnancy we had decided he would stay with the kids at his mum's, while the doula was my support person at hospital.

It was bliss when they left, the contractions were quite close together, and my doula was sure I was in active labour. I wanted to stay at home as long as possible, so I jumped in the shower for a while and laboured on the bed, with a heat pack.

At about 10 am, I decided to go to the hospital. My doula set up a pillow in her backseat for me, and what followed was the most excruciating 40 minutes of my life. I was in the back seat mooing like a cow, when I realised I needed to walk around to help with the pain! :lol:

We arrived at the hospital, and my doula dropped me at the door with my bags and went to find a car park, the contractions were at least 3 minutes apart at this stage, and I was in the foyer of a very busy hospital, unable to walk very far, and definitely unable to carry 3 big bags worth of stuff. I leant over a table in the corner, and continued my (loud) vocalising, it was involuntary, I could not stop myself, and kept gyrating my hips. I had many onlookers, but paid no attention to them. I was in the zone! I had a few people ask if I was okay ( during contractions) so merely nodded.  After about 20 minutes, two hospital employees helped me go to birth suite. I had to stop every 4 or 5 steps to have a contraction.

I made it up to the second floor, and into birth suite, where I had a massive contraction, and told the midwife this was my third baby. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head and she said it wouldn't be long! I said it was my first vaginal birth and she looked panicked, she was definitely a bit freaked out.

My doula finally found a carpark (after 30 minutes of searching) and joined me in a labour room.

The midwife suggested we have continual foetal monitoring. I refused, and consented to intermittent monitoring with a doppler. I laboured in the shower, with hot water on my back, while a student OB watched. At one stage he said, "This is why I'm glad I'm not a woman!" Luckily, I had finished the contraction and replied, "Never say that to a woman in labour! Tell them they are amazing, and doing something spectacular." This was the first time he'd seen a completely intervention free birth, so you could tell it freaked him out!

I worked through the contractions pretty well, vocalising through each one; sometimes on the toilet, sometimes on all fours in the shower, sometimes on the fitball, but always with the hot water on my back. If my vocalising began to sound high pitched, my doula would remind me to keep it low, this was an immense help. The low vocalising seemed to calm my nerves, and gave me something to focus on.

I clashed with the midwife a few times, they wanted to do certain things, and I did not consent. They did continue to check the heart rate with a doppler a lot, though.

I remember sitting on the toilet, waiting for transition to hit, as I was handling the labour pretty well, and actually really liked the endorphins I felt between contactions, it was like the best drug ever!  I was so peaceful and felt like I was on another planet. Although I did turn to my doula at one stage and say "I want this to be over now." She told me that was a good thing.

At around this stage I saw my midwife and doula look at each other and say to each other it wouldn't be long; then my husband walked through the door!! He'd come. He proceeded to run the hot water over my aching back and supported me as I leant into his chest. I was bent over on my husband when the midwife pointed out to the student OB the brown line that was on my back, which indicated how far dilated I was.

I can't remember reaching that out of control, horrible transition feeling, but I needed to push. The midwife asked me if she could give me an internal (which I had refused up to this point) and I finally consented to; I was 10 cm and ready to go.

I pushed on all fours on the bed, I felt a constant stabbing pain in my back, which meant I couldn't feel when to push with the contraction, I just pushed the whole time. The baby's heart rate started to drop, and the midwife called the OB on duty. I freaked, and was sure they were going to cut me open again. I jumped off the bed, crouched down and pushed like crazy, the baby still didn't come.

The OB was wonderful, she entered the room, a calming presence to the midwife's panic. I pushed for 10 minutes with her in the room and then she asked if she could help me get the baby out, I agreed. She set the vacuum up, and my legs were put in stirrups. I pushed hard, there was a midwife, my doula, the OB, the student doctor, and 4 nurses (for the baby), my husband and a pediatrician in the room, all cheering me on and offering words of encouragment.

It felt like forever; but I did it! I pushed my baby out! It was amazing! I exclaimed with joy, "I did it, I pushed a baby out my vagina! A baby came out my vagina!" The baby was placed on the table surrounded by nurses, she was blue and had an apgar of 3. I was told it was a girl, and she was briefly placed on my chest. She was beautiful, with a lock of dark hair, which was a surprise, as my other babies were blonde.

She had to go into the special care nursery, and I sent my husband and doula along with her. I was filled with joy, with those amazing post-birth endorphins coursing through my veins, and was so proud I had achieved my totally drug free vaginal birth, and elated my husband had decided to come and be at the birth, but I was scared, too. Worried about my baby girl. The OB told me I had suffered a third degree tear, that tore my rectum and was very close to being a fourth degree tear. She suggested I be repaired in theatre (and be given an epidural) as it would mean I would have a better outcome. I agreed.

My husband returned and said our baby was beautiful, and now breathing okay. I was told by my midwife she swallowed some amniotic fluid and was rattly, but would be okay. She had been posterior, but also at a weird angle, so I had trouble pushing her out. She told me I had done very well to get her into the birth canal as low as she'd been, and that the OB had only needed to assist me with the vacuum a couple of times.

I met my baby girl 5 hours after her birth (which was at 3.49 pm on the 27 of July). She could breathe fine, but needed a drip in her arm to give her antibiotics, as they suspected she had also swallowed meconium.

She weighed 3.727  (about 8 pound 4) , 54 cms long, with a head circ of 35.5 cm, and had an apgar of 8 and 5 minutes. I am now going to University to study to become a midwife, so I can help women achieve the birth they wish to have. I believe birth is such an important part of a woman's life.

Tags: VBAC birth stories, vaginal birth after ceserean, VBA2C, Vaginal birth after 2 cesereans, midwife birth stoires, doula birth stories, birth stories, positive birth stories, meconium, 43 weeks gestation, overdue, posterior

Tags:  Natural birth stories, natural child birth stories, natural childbirth stories, birth stories, meconium, doula birth stories, doula stories, doula, positive birth stories, positive childbirth stories, empowering birth stories, birth stories that won't scare pregnant women

River William-