I had a supportive pregnancy band, which allowed me to work out at a high-intensity gym up until 37 weeks of pregnancy! Each time I completed a 60-second set of cardio or lifting, I thought of breathing through contractions and enduring labor well.

After a long labor with my first baby, I hoped that the second time around, labor would be faster, but not too fast. Due to my age, many of the OBs at my practice were not comfortable with me going too far past the due date, although every scan revealed that the baby was growing and thriving well.

I enlisted a doula who was supportive of my choices throughout the birth and helped me think about every intervention offered to me. Towards the end of pregnancy, I had appointments with two very different OBs at my practice. One was newer, and younger and helped me schedule an induction, which I later canceled. One was closer to my own age, patient with me going as far past my due date as I desired, yet still cautious. I needed both!

At 38 and 39 weeks, I was only about 1.5 cm. I lost my mucus plug gradually in the 38th week. I was then offered and accepted a membrane sweep at 39 weeks. The patient doctor said it probably wouldn’t do anything, but with induction day looming, it was appealing to try to avoid a long stay in the hospital, waiting around for cervical ripening. Additionally, I was present for my sister’s second child’s birth. She had a sweep and gave birth 6 hours later!

While my labor did not start immediately, I did start to feel occasional “gas pain” while walking around the next 2 days, including one contraction that woke me up in the middle of the night on Thursday night and Friday night. I made my husband go with me to the library that Saturday morning in case things amped up and I needed help, but I was aware true labor could still be a week away or more or a matter of hours.

At around 2:30 AM on his due date, I felt another larger contraction, got up to pee, and discovered my pants were wetter than I thought they would be. It was not sweat: my water had broken. I tried to put a normal pad on and saw clear water leaking out. Thankfully, I had purchased disposable underwear for postpartum recovery. With each contraction, fluid gushed.

I woke my husband up, thinking we should race to the hospital, but instead called our doula who encouraged us to stay home, rest, and try to wait for labor to start on its own. However, she did say, “You will most likely have a baby tomorrow!” So, instead of going directly back to sleep, I packed my daughter’s lunches for preschool for the next 2 days, did some laundry, and then got some rest.

When we woke up the next morning, I called the on-call doctor – the insistent one – who told me I should go directly to the hospital. I knew I did not have any medical reason for doing that, so I told her I would wait until lunchtime and then decide, having read that most women go into labor on their own within 6-12 hours.

My husband and I had a beautiful day together walking around our neighborhood while grandma watched our 4-year-old daughter. I had some contractions in front of her in our bedroom, and I hope she remembers that having a baby doesn’t have to be exceedingly painful. Later in labor, I returned to the beautiful walks in my mind.

When we arrived at the hospital, I was already 3 cm and 50% effaced. I was very grateful not to have to go through cervical ripening or any other procedure to induce labor. By the time I was brought into a labor and delivery room, I was 5 cm, and agreed to start the lowest dose of pitocin to bring my contractions closer together. After about an hour, a pattern was established of contractions coming every 2-3 minutes and I quickly progressed to 8 cm!

With each contraction, I was able to maintain a good rhythm, slowly dancing with my husband, moaning, and having my doula provide counter pressure on my lower back. I could feel the ramp-up to each contraction, the intense middle part and the coming down from it. I even lunged between contractions to get the baby’s head hitting the correct part of my cervix! It felt great to work with my body; in my previous labor, I felt that I had to try to relax through contractions and had a difficult time doing so.

When I began to feel things in my crotch and butt in addition to the contractions, I asked for the epidural, and it was given just in time. After a short time on the epidural and rotating in different directions with a peanut ball between my ankles to open up the cervix further, Tobias arrived at 11:45 PM just in time for his due date. I had the shivers for an hour afterward (I did not previously know this was a side effect of an epidural), but thankfully, they subsided. He is a great gift! His name means “God is good” and enjoying him reminds me of God’s goodness daily.

And after a few years, when couples in our friend circle were having babies, we thought this might be the time or us also, to start a family. But we didn’t know how much time it would take for us. After trying to conceive naturally for 6 months, we thought there might be some issue. Hence, I started searching a lot over the internet, about infertility, or how to get pregnant, what changes should I adopt etc.
But I was firm, and then I started using an ovulation calculator, to keep a track on my ovulation days. We even adopted healthy patterns, and my husband even quit smoking and drinking. But month after month, when I was getting my periods, my discomfort increased. I even started feeling envious sometimes, when I saw people playing with their kids. I always thought, ‘Why am I not able to get pregnant?’

I even started to avoid family functions and gatherings, so I don’t have to answer their questions, like, When are you having a baby? Are you planning or not? and so on.

I thought maybe learning more about problems related to infertility might help. But now I didn’t want to sit back, and wait for the things to happen on their own, I wanted to do something, try harder.

And then I consulted an IVF specialist. We discussed our fertility history with her and even went for some medical tests. I had my sonography, blood test and hormone test, my husband also had his sperm quality and quantity tests, and after the reports came, we had a session with our doctor. Any specific reason was not found for our problem. Hence, we first started our treatment with IUI. But as it wasn’t successful we went for IVF. Probably this was our last chance, as we were exhausted even financially, and couldn’t have been able to afford another round.

We were very disturbed, emotionally. The tension between us grew day by day. Sometimes it felt like, Is having a baby so important, that in the hope of a child, we have lost all our happiness? and so we started taking counseling sessions.

After a few days, when the hormone injections and everything were done, the doctor called to give the good news. Finally, my pregnancy results were positive. That day, we cried in joy. And now everything feels worth, all the pain, the efforts, and the struggle, everything was worth it when we saw our little daughter.

– Vaani Minhas

I was 41+ weeks pregnant and had been 5cm dilated for about a week (how was the baby not falling out?). All of the physical symptoms I was experiencing had signaled immediate labor with the previous births, yet no steady contractions. I was over cleaning the house every night, keeping the fridge stocked and preparing the kids. Rinse and repeat. I called my midwife, in tears, and she came to our house and sat next to me on my bed and we talked. I asked her to do another membrane sweep, 6cm. I believe in letting the baby choose his birth day. However, all the pre-labor mingled with the responsibility of three other kids was too much. I wanted to do something. I wanted to believe that I was not going to be pregnant forever.

I was getting close to needing to discuss induction options. I’m not a fan of intervention because it usually leads to more intervention and I did not want to do anything to jeopardize my homebirth. After discussing the pros/cons with my husband, midwives and doula, I decided to try castor oil to get labor started.

Around 1pm I drank a strawberry milkshake (my second favorite flavor, just in case) mixed with the castor oil. We decided that Joe should do school pickup at 3pm and take the kids to his sister’s house (there went the beautiful photographs of my kids lined up around the birth tub meeting their baby brother for the first time).

With the house quiet, I busied myself laying out the little white newborn outfit I’d had for months. I tidied up the bedroom and opened the curtains so the photographer could enjoy the beautiful lighting. I could already envision the photographs of me laboring in the beautiful tub! I spotted the blue comb I had used to braid my daughter’s hair with that morning and I set it on my nightstand. I had seen where laboring moms squeezed it as a distraction during labor. Within a few hours, I felt the surges come on like waves. I simply breathed through them and tried to ignore them. I would know.

It was then that my midwife, Lynne, text me, “Hey, would you like me to come over?”
I didn’t like the idea of anyone in the house “waiting” on me to give birth, but I agreed because I didn’t want to be alone if things progressed quickly!

Lynne arrived around 4pm and we chatted in my bedroom. Surges were picking up. I text my doula and the birth photographer. They’d been waiting as long as me! It was happening! I smiled, looking at the photograph on the wall of Joe holding our third-born minutes after birth. I knew the photographer would capture things I wouldn’t see, as the birthing mom, and that later it would round out the entire experience. I’m pretty certain I look at my birth photos more than my wedding photos! The birth and fresh baby phase is such a short experience, fueled by so much emotion. Photographs seem to jolt the experience back to life.

The birth team is so amazing in that they do this thing called “holding space” where they journey alongside of me with without judgment, as I wander off into labor land and other unknown destinations, and they are completely willing to end up wherever I need to go. When Joe returned, he put on some music, lit some candles and finished up the dishes leftover from lunch.

Things progressed pretty quickly and they asked if I wanted to get in the tub. YES, please. It feels like an epidural…warm relief all around. There is always a point where I envision what has to happen – head, shoulders, knees and toes – and I want to resist so badly, all the while knowing it was the point of no return. The dominoes have already been set into motion.

There’s no point in resisting. Let it go. Transition. Surrender. Breakthrough. I would meet my baby very soon! The moment I had been waiting for!

The midwives checked me, smiled and said, “Let’s have a baby!” They checked the baby’s heartbeat; strong. My doula pressed a cool, wet washcloth to my forehead. The sunlight was warm. The house was still, calm and quiet. I squeezed my trusty little blue comb and let out all the noises – I think they’re the most human noises that exist – nobody flinched. And then I collected myself, felt the baby’s head engage and I let my body do what it was made to do. I didn’t waste energy making noises, I knew about the fetal ejection reflex and I knew that I didn’t need to count or push (although I couldn’t help it), I just let my body expel the baby and did my best to embrace its direction. My water broke. With the next surge, the baby’s head came out. My arm muscles were exhausted from bracing against the sides of the tub. I kept telling myself to stay limp and it would be over with. With a deep push, his body was expelled and he was immediately placed on my chest. Relief!!
Except. Something felt different.

Babies are usually blue or pink or make a cry. He was limp, pale, and white with an olive green tint. We rubbed his back and I spoke to him. Midwives are guardians of normal. Lynne knew something wasn’t normal. And I knew that they knew something wasn’t normal. Lynne immediately called for his cord to be clamped (there went delayed cord clamping and first latch) and she began applying chest compressions. I watched, helplessly in the tub, as Lynne’s two fingers pressed into the hollow of his little chest, his arms dangling like a lasagna noodle.

“Wake up. Do something. Theodore, it’s mommy. I love you. Wake up,” I screamed as they placed him on the tile floor. I could see, from over the edge of the tub, Joe was calling 911.

Doniece, the second midwife, placed her stethoscope to his chest, “No pulse. No heartbeat.”
His eyes were closed. He was silent. Still.

“Fix him!” I cried. “FIX him! Breathe, Gideon.” Lord, save him, I prayed. I wanted my baby. I needed him. He could not just disappear.

Joe called our neighbor Clayton, a fire captain. By the grace of God, he was home and arrived within minutes. Everyone was working on the baby and everyone was equally frustrated and soothed by the 911 operator’s questions. The seconds, minutes were accumulating in my mind and adding up to…impossible.

I couldn’t cry, so I leaned over the tub and said, “Gideon, be like Gideon. Lord! Save my baby, use him.”
Clayton scooped up his pale, floppy body, half-wrapped in a blue bath towel Lynne had handed him, and bolted out of the bathroom. The photographer had put her camera down.Doniece, calm and collected, helped me to deliver the placenta. There was a tight knot, the size of a large grape, in the umbilical cord. I ran it between my fingers. Without a baby to distract me or breastfeeding to tend to, and my husband gone…they cleaned and dried me off and helped me out of the tub. I lay in bed, silent. I couldn’t even cry. My doula held space for me by reading me Scripture while the midwives were in the kitchen talking on the phone and examining the placenta. I watched as the lights flashed on the extra fire truck at the end of our long driveway.

I pictured a tiny baby coffin. What would I tell our children? Would we be planning a funeral tomorrow?
Doniece came over to take my temperature. I asked her, “Did God do this because I tried to take it into my own hands with the castor oil?” She, with her dark beautiful skin and clear eyes, took my hand and looked into my eyes, “That is not in God’s character, now is it?” I held her gaze and shook my head.

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full (John 10:10).” Using the power and authority given to me, I commanded all spirits of death to leave, in the name of Jesus. Just then, Clayton came in, with tears in his eyes, and asked me what he could do. I told him to pray with me. He held my hand and we prayed. All I heard was, “…this boy is going to grow up to love you, Lord, and do great things for You.” With that came the peace that passes all understanding.

Shock is a gift. It kept me focused on my own recovery, while keeping me from falling apart emotionally. It was a key that the Lord was giving me to unlock the full experience of His strength in my life. In Romans 8:26-27 it says, “In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God.” When I couldn’t cry or even come up with the words to pray, I never doubted that the Lord was very near, very present. He was not judging or condemning me. He was holding space. I knew nothing could separate me or my baby from the love of God. He knew the desires of my heart. He is a good and faithful Father who wants the best for His children. I knew He loved my baby more than I ever could; my love for this child was but a speck of sand in the desert to the love He has for him.

“Do you want me to make you something to eat?” asked my doula.

I nodded and she returned with a large plate of lasagna. I was starving, yet I felt ashamed to be eating while my son was…gone. How was I supposed to be acting? What time had he been born? How much did he weigh? Did he have dimples like his oldest sister? The food helped immensely to give me physical strength.

y doula drove me to the hospital. About halfway there, Joe called me for my blood type.

“Do you want to see him?” I thought it was cruel of him to ask me to see our son over the phone.
“Can you hear him?” Hear him? HEAR. HIM?
“HE’S ALIVE???” I gasped.

Joe activated FaceTime and there, before my eyes, was a screaming, crying baby. My heart. Our baby. Crying. Alive. He had not disappeared. The Lord had breathed life into him!
“I changed his name, by the way. It’s Gideon.”

“Are you serious?” Tears streamed down my face. He had heard me. The name I always wanted! Wow, when the Lord works on one end you can be certain He is working on the other end!!

When we arrived at the valet, my doula got me a wheelchair and Joe wheeled me to the NICU. We sat in the lobby and we talked and cried and prayed while we waited to be allowed to see the baby. I learned that Joe had followed the ambulance, alone in his truck. They had taken the long way – we were already 25 minutes away – and they had to completely pull over and stop the ambulance several times, leaving Joe to assume the worst. I am awed by the composure and grace with which Joe handled the barrage of decisions he was faced with.

Finally, the receptionist called out, “Okay, they’re ready for Rescue’s parents.” Rescue. I was going to get to see my baby!! I knew my baby needed me; that my presence would make a difference in his recovery. I followed Joe’s lead, as we eagerly washed our hands. Then he led me to our little station in the NICU, where a nurse was leaning over his laptop. It was surprisingly quiet. And there, underneath a soft, glowing light was our pink baby. As I got closer, I observed his perfect body. Ten fingers, ten toes. His head was covered in tape and wire and tubes. I had a flashback to his hair at birth, dark and even.

“Hi, Gideon. It’s Mommy,” I whispered, pressing the back of my finger to his exposed cheek, so soft.

Gideon was being treated for Hypoxic Ischemic Encephalopathy (HIE) – he would spend 72 hours naked, on a cooling blanket. He’d had two blood transfusions and one platelet transfusion. The potential long-term outcomes of hypoxia (lack of oxygen for an extended period of time): brain damage, cerebral palsy, epilepsy, seizures, hearing/vision limitations, sensory processing issues, speech delays and language disorders, etc. An MRI after the 72-hour period would give us an indication of what to expect.

My baby was breathing. We could deal with neurological issues later. I would never stop giving gratitude for his breath alone. One morning my mother-in-law came in with a stack of note cards, pens and a Bible. I wrote out several verses and taped the cards to his window. I read and re-read the Anti-Anxiety book and healing/faith promises from a Bible study I had taught earlier that summer, receiving the peace the Lord had for me. I was Gideon’s advocate. As his mother, I would believe in him more than anyone!

I was not a patient, so I had no room or bed. We slept on makeshift cots, floors and office chairs. I was terribly uncomfortable. My hips ached, my feet tingled, and I was still very much postpartum (I had to navigate that situation as best I could from my backpack). We stared at monitors, watching the numbers dance. We learned which beeps to ignore. I pumped incessantly to keep up with the demands of the feeding schedules.

I remember one morning going to the hospital, alone. I stood in the Wendy’s line waiting for coffee and I just started crying. I just wanted the cashier to give me a hug. Or anyone. A janitor. Anyone. I sat and drank my coffee alone and wiped my tears on the tri-folded brown napkins. I stopped at the bathroom to clean up. A lady in the stall next to me was singing worship music. As I was washing my hands in the sink, the lady emerged. She had beautiful dark skin and bright eyes, she reminded me of Doniece. She asked me when I was due, smiling at my postpartum bump. I told her my baby was in the NICU upstairs. And then I started crying. She walked over and asked me, “Do you believe in Jesus?” I smiled and nodded, “Yes, ma’am.” “You go right up to that baby, you put your hands on him and you say, ‘In the name of Jesus this baby is healed. He is going home. He is going home.'”

I took the elevator to the third floor. I set my stuff down on the window ledge. When the nurse left Gideon’s station, I looked around and waited until I couldn’t see anyone in sight. I stood up and put my left hand on top of Gideon’s bandaged head and my right hand cupping his wired feet. I whispered out loud, “In the name of Jesus you are healed, Gideon. In the name of Jesus. You are going home.” I kissed my baby. I sat back down and waited.

We prayed for everything. For his heart murmur to close, for his breathing to improve, that he would not have any seizures, that he would tolerate bottle feeds, that he would take to the breast, that he would get the MRI in the 24 hour window, that his MRI would be perfect. His heart murmur closed, he has weaned off oxygen, he never had a seizure, he bottle fed, he breastfed, got his MRI within hours of being off the cooling therapy and his MRI came back perfect. On August 21st, we brought Gideon home, in his little white newborn outfit.

After giving birth, I entered what is called the fourth trimester, the time when my midwives and doula support me from home. They check in on me and make sure I’m covered with things like meals, childcare, provide breastfeeding and emotional support, etc. It was during this time that I asked my doula to read a draft of my birth story. This is what she shared with me:
“Something I remember that wasn’t in there is that when Lynne announced that there was no heartbeat, you asked everyone in the room to pray. And while we prayed, silently and out loud, they got a heart beat again. In remembering your birth, this stands out to me as the moment God restored his life. I really think it was because of the prayers that were spoken out loud and given silently.

It was an amazing moment. Even though he wasn’t able to breathe on his own yet, his heart was beating on its own!”

– Taylor Hindermann

After 2 years of trying to conceive, I found out I was pregnant on November 3, 2021. We were so grateful to have a baby that we decided to keep their gender a surprise! Little did we know, this wouldn’t be the last surprise of my pregnancy!

Being plus-sized and pregnant felt like having a red flag sticking out of my back. My normal blood work and blood pressure, negative gestational diabetes screening, and negative for preeclampsia seemed to surprise the OBs I saw. Almost as if being fat meant my pregnancy would be doomed from the start…yet it was totally textbook and smooth sailing! I felt as if I was going against all odds – which was a totally bizarre feeling, since weight/BMI is not a good measurement of one’s health. At the first few appointments, my weight and BMI were brought up. “Because of your BMI…blah blah blah.” I put a stop to that immediately and asked the medical staff to not bring up my BMI or tell me my weight. With normal labs and screenings, I knew I was healthy. My body was doing exactly what it was meant to do – regardless of the number on the scale.

At 30 weeks, we learned our baby was breech. We weren’t overly concerned because there was plenty of time and room for baby to flip! Knowing baby was head up, I started doing Spinning Baby inversions, saw a Webster certified chiropractor, and went to an acupuncturist for a moxibustion treatment. If you googled “how to flip a breech baby,” you’d see everything and anything I tried. I’d never had acupuncture or been to a chiropractor before. I was nervous to try new things, especially while being pregnant. I found peace knowing that if I tried everything out there, I could at least say “I tried.”

For 34 weeks, I prepared my body for a natural vaginal birth. Prenatal yoga, pelvic floor exercises, preparing my mind. I was so ready to birth my baby out of my vagina. June 24, 2022, we found out our sweet baby was still breech at 36 weeks. Knowing we planned for and would continue with a hospital birth, our OB automatically brought up the need for a cesarean birth. We were so confident that baby had flipped…we were devastated. I cried a lot. I felt like I failed and that my body wasn’t doing pregnancy right. I was offered an External Cephalic Version (ECV) but with an anterior (in front) placenta and amount of belly fat I had, the success rate was less than 30%. I was told an epidural was recommended and that an emergency cesarean was possible. I declined the ECV, as it had high risks and went against many aspects of my birth plan. I continued doing everything I could to encourage baby to flip. It was exhausting and my mental health took a toll. I was no longer enjoying my pregnancy like I had for the other 8 months. I stopped everything and I accepted that whatever was meant to happen will happen.

Our 38 week appointment came. Baby was still breech and an ultrasound showed little chance (and space!) of our baby turning. Our baby was comfy head up and closest to
my heart. I wasn’t sad anymore. We laughed that our surprise gender baby was giving us another surprise of being breech. I had spent the week before my appointment reading positive cesarean stories, educating myself on the process, and creating an alternative birth plan. I knew what I wanted. I informed the OB that if I was going to deliver via a cesarean, I wanted it to be after 40 weeks. This was difficult to request, as the OB group wanted it done by 39 weeks to avoid my body going into labor while baby was in breech position. I put my foot down and made my needs known – the birth would not take place earlier than our due date: July 15th, 2022.

I scheduled my cesarean birth appointment for Saturday, July 17th, 2022 at 8am with the OB who let me cry for 15 minutes during our 36 week appointment. After scheduling our birth date, I felt a sense of relief. Weeks of anxiety, nerves, and tears were gone. I had regained some control and my confidence was back. While it wasn’t the track we planned to be on, we were back on a track. We were having a baby!

The night before our birth, we went to our favorite pizza place. I wasn’t able to eat or drink after midnight, so I wanted to enjoy my last meal before becoming a mom! Once home, I took a shower with the sterilizing soap and it was weird to bath with soap that didn’t suds. We crawled into bed with our three dogs for the last time before bringing our baby into the world.

The birth was scheduled for 8am and we needed to get there by 6am for prep. Though it was less than a 15 minute drive, getting to the hospital felt like forever. We listened to the birth playlist I made filled with songs that made me the happiest. We arrived at the hospital, grabbed our essentials, and walked through the huge spinning door.

My doula called me “mom” and for the first time, that felt real. We took the stairs to the third floor in order to walk off some nerves. Everything started to be the “last” before I became a mom. Last time going to the bathroom before becoming a mom. Last time checking my phone before becoming a mom. Last time I took off my clothes before becoming a mom. It was happening. I was becoming a mom.

Once in the prep/recovery room, they did a quick ultrasound. Our baby was still breech – no surprise! One OB told me my contacts needed to be taken out and the OB performing the cesarean said they were fine. It showed me that I still had a lot of control – I just needed to use it! I met the anesthesiologist and I prepared myself for the biggest conversation of the day: getting my husband in the operating room with me for the spinal block. I know this isn’t the norm but I’ve heard it’s not impossible. I shared my history of a traumatic spinal tap being done and without any issue, my husband was able to come into the OR while the spinal was administered.

I walked to the operating room wearing a bedsheet as a cape. It felt silly at first but now I can see the significance. I was a freakin’ superhero. The operating room was exactly as I expected: bright, cold, and white. I sat on the table while my husband sat in front of me holding my hand. I repeated “I can do hard things” over and over as the anesthesiologist completed the spinal block. It was over. I survived. My husband left for the prep and would return with my doula once they were ready to begin.

I closed my eyes as feeling left my lower body. I soaked in every remaining second of baby in my belly. Moments later, I heard music playing. My husband and doula were entering the OR playing my birth playlist. We agreed to let the playlist play on shuffle and have our baby born to whatever song was playing. Another surprise! I asked to have a clear drape the entire time, rather than after the birth, so I could see everything I wanted.

I heard the OB say, “we’re going to get started.” It was the strangest sensation. I didn’t feel much but was aware of everything happening. After about 8 minutes, the OB and anesthesiologist told me, “you’re going to feel a lot of pressure” and that’s exactly what happened. No pain, just pressure. And then I heard it. The cry. My baby’s cry. My baby was here!

The OB asked my husband to reveal the gender and he said, “it’s a girl!“ I have a daughter! I cried while my baby was immediately brought to me for skin to skin. The OB asked what her name would be and we immediately knew. We had names picked out for 2 years. Marisol Lucille. Marisol meaning “the sea and the sun” and Lucille was the name a grandmother on both sides. Our sweet baby girl was born at 8:52am to the song Such Great Heights by The Postal Service – one of my favorites. As I was being repaired, we held our baby. Exactly 8 pounds and 19.5 inches. I did it! We were officially mom and dad. We had a baby!

They rolled me out of the operating room and my doula told me to hold my fist up like the rockstar I was. It’s true. I was a rockstar and I held my hand up with pride. Before entering the elevator, I pushed a button that would play a song throughout the entire hospital. Now everyone knew I brought a baby into the world.

At that very moment, I didn’t care what hole my baby came out of. My baby was brought earth-side and I was a mom. Nothing else mattered.

Birth wasn’t something I feared. It’s something women have done forever and a process our body instinctually knows how to do. To make sure I had the birth I deserved, I needed to step out of my comfort zone. I advocated for myself throughout the entire pregnancy and birth. I learned to ask “why?”, educated myself, and trusted my intuition.

Throughout my pregnancy, I shared my journey in hopes of empowering more pregnant people and encourage them to trust themselves. Whether you have a hospital birth or a home birth, natural or medicated, vaginal or cesarean – you deserve to have it be YOUR birth. Your body and mind are capable of magical things!

My beautiful birth.

I woke up on August 8th, having period-like cramps that were coming and going. I have had them a week before, but this time they seemed to be coming more regularly, in a more defined way. We decided not to get too excited, knowing that this could go on for days. Instead, we went to our favorite café to have pancakes, I cleaned the house, tried to sleep (which I couldn’t) and in the evening we went grocery shopping. At the supermarket, I had a rather strong contraction (compared to the contractions I had had during the day). In the car, on the way home, another one. This went on. I finally allowed myself to get my hopes up and texted Sofia (the midwife) and Clara (my doula), just to let them know. I ate and decided to go to bed early, but couldn’t fall asleep. At midnight, it was Miguel’s birthday and I gave him my gift, all the while having contractions that were getting more intense. We finally timed them between 2 and 3am, realizing that they were pretty much coming every 5 minutes and lasted for 1 minute. This is when, according the info we had, people should either go to the hospital, or settle for a home birth. Miguel was pushing me to call Sofia, but somehow, I couldn’t believe that it was already time. The contractions didn’t seem to be as bad as I had expected them to be at this point. Finally, Miguel called Sofia himself and she said she would come. I informed Clara and she also got on the way.

By the time everyone arrived, I couldn’t talk through the contractions anymore. Sofia checked the dilation – 4cm and the head of the baby was very much down. Everything looked like things would move quickly and Sofia decided to prepare the birth pool. Clara was laboring with me in the bedroom. After a while, we decided to all try and get some more rest. We went to bed and I slept between contractions for a few hours. In the morning, progress had slowed down a lot. Contractions came less regularly, 5cm dilation. I blamed it on the sleeping, but didn’t get too frustrated. Sofia left for a while and Anna came. I took a shower and made breakfast but couldn’t eat much. Clara, Anna and I went back to the bedroom and had a few beautiful hours there. We listened to mantras, picked affirmation cards for each contraction. They both applied counterpressure on my back, massaged me, held my hands. The contractions got stronger and stronger. At some point it hit me – this was really out of my control. It was at the same time as I was looking at one of my affirmation cards, when a weird mix of emotions overpowered me – humility, fear, gratitude – and I started crying. I felt weak, drank a bit of coconut water and an iso drink, tried to eat a raw bar, but immediately had to throw up. Weirdly enough throwing up felt like a huge relief.

Clara made a fantastic tea. Sofia came and we did spinning babies on the bed to help the baby assume the right position. She asked me if I was afraid of something and I told her I feared the moment when I wouldn’t have breaks in between contractions anymore. She told me to relax and that there would always be a break. This calmed me down a bit. Another examination showed that my cervix was almost 7cm open. I wanted to rest on the bed for a while longer and again contractions slowed down, however, they stayed very intense. When I got up, I ran to the bathroom and had to throw up again. Sofia came again and spent some time with me in there, swaying me from side to side, infusing strength into me.
I wanted to go to the pool. It was almost 6pm, 14 hours had passed since the birth team had come to our home. It felt wonderful to enter the water, immediate relief. I felt it was quite hot, though, but I was told the temperature is ok. I found a perfect position to stay in, leaning forward, arms and head resting on the pool. Clara and Anna were wonderful, holding my hands, massaging my back. I was not able to talk anymore. Progress slowed down. I wanted to say things – please someone measure the water temperature; the window is open behind the shut blinds; please put the tea that Sofia made on ice so I can drink it – nothing came out of my mouth. I spent three hours in the pool, progress was slowing down again, but no one urged me to leave the pool. I was grateful, but knew I had to get up. Finally, I left the pool and went to empty my bladder, as told. Sofia and I did the spinning babies exercise and we spent some time in the bedroom. I wanted to go back to the pool. This time, the water felt cold. Miguel brought hot water and I spent time in the previous position. Contractions slowed further down and I got worried. Anna and Clara reassured me that a resting phase between transition and pushing can be normal. I remembered this now from the books I read, but my inner voice told me that I had to get out of the pool. The voice got louder and louder, but I was afraid of the contractions. I went into an inner dialogue with Rosalie, begging her to come out. I played the thought of going to the hospital in my mind, but what was waiting there for me seemed so much worse than what I was going through in this moment.

Finally, Miguel urged me to get up. I stood inside the pool, holding on to him, wrapped in towels. The nature of the contractions changed. Sofia encouraged me to get out of the pool in order not to get cold and Clara suggested to sit on the toilet for a while. Sofia examined me, to make sure nothing was in the baby’s way. 9,5cm, nothing was in the way. This gave me a lot of reassurance. I went to sit on the toilet, facing the wall. Relatively quickly the contractions turned into something powerful. I didn’t feel like pushing yet, but I felt like an enormous energy was passing through my body with each contraction. I started to be really loud, I just felt like I had to be.

At some point the “urge to push” came. What a revelation when I realized that the pushing was absolutely involuntary. In contrast to what the language around this phase suggests, the pushing was not an active act. My body opened its doors, wanting to eject the baby and I had little to do with this. An absolutely overwhelming experience. Sofia told me that they could see her hair. I didn’t feel scared anymore, I wanted to meet my baby. She went down and up, down and up, down and up. I felt caught in an infinite loop and asked if she was ever going to come out – more to get some reassurance, not because I was actually afraid she might not come out. Sofia explained that it will be easier for the baby to come out if I had my knees pointing inwards, which was hard to accomplish sitting on the toilet. She suggested several times to kneel on all fours, but I didn’t have the strength to assume a new position. I felt too passive. As if a higher power had taken over my body. After a while, Sofia urged me get off the toilet. I needed the firmer guidance and was now able to get off and onto all fours. I realized it had gotten too intense for Miguel and that Clara was talking to him outside. I heard that it was still before midnight and I wanted to give Miguel his baby as a birthday present. I open, I surrender. I tried to actively intensify the pushing and it seemed to work. Midnight passed, I was disappointed, but wanted it even more to end. Miguel came in and out, clearly not handling it well anymore. He asked for anesthesia, voiced his concern someone might send the police. I wanted to tell him that I am ok and to please let me scream, but I couldn’t talk. Clara encouraged me to make sounds of a deeper pitch, as this would help the process more. I tried my best to follow her advice.

Eventually, I felt the “ring of fire”. Finally! It would just take a few more pushes. Miguel was called in. The next contraction came and I pushed with everything I had. I felt something tearing, my mind went into alarm mode, but the contraction wasn’t over and my body kept pushing – and the whole baby came out at once. I couldn’t believe it. I was shaking, tears were running down my cheeks. 26 hours of labor were over (not that I was aware of that, the whole experience was absolutely timeless). Rosalie was born on August 10th at 00:18. I wanted to see my baby, but Sofia was doing something with her and I didn’t dare to turn around, fearing I would rip out the placenta. It didn’t take long, though, and I had Rosalie in my arms. It didn’t feel real. Sofia hugged me from the side and everybody accompanied me on my shaky legs to the bed. Miguel was psyched up, while I was partly still in another world. Clara showed me how to put Rosalie on my breast and I couldn’t stop staring at this little wonder on my chest. After maybe 20 – 30 minutes, Sofia came to take the placenta out. I had to push just a little bit. Miguel got to cut the cord. Sofia examined me and told me my perineum was 100% intact and that I had two very small tears on the side. No stitches needed. I was incredibly relieved.

The baby was taken to be weighed and measured. Sofia asked me very politely if they could take her for just a moment, but for me it was the most natural thing. I trusted all of them blindly after what we had been through together. I was flooded by a huge wave of gratitude, for having been able to have this baby at home, surrounded and supported by people I trust, who kept a peaceful, almost sacred environment. Clara spent the night – what an angel! She walked the dog, collected dirty towels and laundry and turned on a washing machine, brought me water and a plate with freshly cut fruits and cake, took lasagna out of the freezer for the next day and helped me breastfeed Rosalie throughout the night.
I couldn’t be more grateful for the experience and I know that this birth in the hospital would have been an extremely different story. Giving birth to Rosalie, in my home, surrounded by people who believe in the power of the female body, was a transformative experience. I went through a passage and came out a different woman – ready to be a mother.

It was time to call the midwife.

I had been having contractions on and off all day but they were finally getting somewhat consistent. I called Hiedi to let her know it was starting. But I wasn’t expecting what she said in return.

“Go home. Eat a good dinner and go to bed.”

Go to bed? How can I go to bed? Our baby is coming!

As excited as we were it felt like there was no way we could possibly sleep, but we made our way back to the house, cooked a good protein filled dinner and went to lay down. After all, she had been delivering babies for 30 years, she probably knew better than us.

We went to bed, but there wasn’t a lot of sleep happening. I would just get my body settled when a contraction would come on. They were about 10 minutes apart at this point. My legs were shaking – from excitement, adrenaline, nervousness – I’m not sure, probably a combination of them all. I knew that my body was going to exhaust itself if I couldn’t get more relaxed.

Around midnight I decided something needed to change and to get in the shower to see if that would help. It was instant relief. The hot water melted my body and helped me relax through the contractions instead of tensing up. It felt like I was only in there for about 15 minutes, but I ran out of hot water and my husband told me it had been over an hour!

I left my shower sanctuary, but knew that my body needed to be in the water. My water had not broken yet, so I decided to go in our hot tub, while my husband waited for our hot water to catch up so he could fill the birth tub in our living room. I turned the temperature down to 98 and made my way through contractions leaning over the side of the tub for the next 6 hours. The water gave me enough relief that I did sleep in between the contractions, but it was still a long night.

Around 6am things were starting to ramp up and it was time to call the midwife again. My contractions were about 4 minutes apart at this point and getting stronger.

As I made my way around the house the intensity hit me and I threw up whatever snacks and water I had been drinking. I had heard this was a sign that the baby was getting closer, so I was encouraged by this. My midwife and her team said to just keep doing what we were doing and they were on their way.

I made my way to the living room and got in the birth tub. The water was the only place I wanted to be. When our midwife arrived, they checked me and found I was 6cm dilated. They suggested I get out of the water for a bit. I tried 2 contractions on the couch, but the intensity was too much, so I got back in the tub. Hiedi said as long as I was still progressing it was fine, but sometimes the water can slow labor.

After I got settled back in the water in my squat position, I mentally let go. I felt safe and at peace that the midwives were there and just wanted things to happen. I welcomed the contractions and just told my body to do its thing.

This sped things up. It took just under an hour and I got an overwhelming urge to push. Hiedi was surprised at this since they had just checked me, but she said to just do whatever my body was telling me to.

In my mind I was scared again. The intensity was overwhelming and my body was just acting on its own at this point. I didn’t know if I could do it. I was seriously questioning why I had gotten pregnant in the first place. Hiedi and her team talked me through each contraction and encouraged me that I was doing great. She coached me to get into a sitting position because it didn’t seem like I was pushing effectively in a squat.

I was fighting it at this point. But there was nothing I could do to stop what was happening. Once I wrapped my head around the fact that this was it, I was almost there, again I decided to surrender and let it happen. I just wanted it to be over and to meet my baby. Looking back, the mind and body connection was so strong. Going into labor I was nervous and a little scared. Could I really do it? How painful was it going to be? Was I as strong and tough as I thought I was? I think these thoughts had a big impact on the length of my labor. I think if I would have gone in more confident then it would not have taken as long, because once I did overcome the fears things happened fast!

I got into a sitting position and did what my body told me to. At some point during a push my water broke with a big pop. Once I had mentally made the transition it took me about 20 minutes and the baby’s head was out. They checked for a cord around her neck and everything was clear and told me to push whenever I felt ready. It was an instant relief! I snatched up this little slippery bundle and brought it to my chest.

I couldn’t believe I had just done that. It was the hardest thing I had ever done in my life. I was exhausted, but also felt on top of the world.

Baby started screaming right away, which was a joyous sound to know that their lungs were working perfectly. I was so relieved that labor was done and that the baby was fine that I had forgotten to even check if it was a boy or girl. My husband finally asked. I lifted up this little bundle and said “It’s a girl!”

We had decided on the name Alice Elizabeth after two of our grandmothers. She was born at 10:55 a.m.

After a few minutes I pushed out the placenta and soon got out of the pool and into a nearby lounge chair so that we could both be checked out. I had a small tear, but did not need stitches. I had pushed a little too fast when she was crowning. I felt it when it happened and wasn’t surprised, but was thankful that things would heal up on their own.

About 2 hours after birth, the team had helped me shower and had everything cleaned up and we were both doing well. Alice was already sleeping in my arms. Birth is tiresome for both mama and baby! They packed up their remaining things and crept out the door with a promise to be back the next day.

We were alone, just our little family of three in our own living room. My husband and I were just on top of the world and couldn’t believe any of it had just happened. We slowly made our way to the bed and cuddled in for our first sleep as a family.

Suddenly you’ve now joined the club where new mums are eager to share their own story and it only seems fair to share my own, too, after having enjoyed listening to others. I have my maternity notes and journal (something which I would highly recommend keeping during pregnancy and birth) in front of me, and I’ve been trying to piece together my own birth story. In spite of the fact that it has been just over a month since given birth, I can still remember the start of my labour, the conversations with the midwives, the cesarean and my baby girl’s first cry, although, everything felt like a blur at that time.

My story actually started from day one of pregnancy. It was my first pregnancy and our parents’ first grandchild. Our home was filled with joy and excitement after our announcement, but my instant elation came down to terror when we were informed that we were in lockdown and that I could not meet or invite anyone. Listening to our friends, families and midwives, it was uplifting to hear about the advances in pain relief and birthing techniques since the past twenty years, the increase in awareness of medical interventions and the vast resources available for pregnant mums. But we were also filled with the scary ones like possible complications of assisted delivery and cesarean, the side effects of pain relief medication, and pain and blood loss during birth, all of which, to be frank, felt like they completely buried the good thoughts and made me worry of what I am walking into. My kind-hearted husband sat beside me and said, you know what, let’s just get a cesarean booked instead.

Given the lockdown, it was also encouraging to hear positive comments about the supportive midwives during the pandemic, the government advice given to pregnant mothers on COVID and the precautions taken at the hospitals. However, we were also informed of visiting hours being reduced to an hour a day, only one birthing partner being allowed during established labour, the increase in the risk of COVID transmission during pregnancy and the occasional story of how some mothers gave birth without a birthing partner at all. I retreated back to my shade and felt completely deflated. Who would have ever thought that COVID would cause such a huge impact on pregnancy and birth? My mind swirled with a mixture of happiness, gratitude, fear and confusion.

Desperate to feel other than panic, I googled ‘giving birth at lockdown,’ and the first thing that popped up was NHS Start4Life on pregnancy and birth care, including advice on healthy eating, COVID precautions and coping strategies for mental well-being during the pandemic. My husband and I instantly signed up for their weekly newsletter and found them to be brilliantly easy to read and informative about everything you need to know about pregnancy and birth. We even signed up to all the virtual antenatal classes, which were educational and presented me with all the options, their benefits and risks to help me make informed decisions for my birth plan and highlighted the importance of consenting to medical procedures. With great online resources combined with antenatal classes, a lovely and caring community midwife and a strong and supportive network of family and friends, I felt like everything was falling into place again.

Looking back, I realized that it was also the best decision to start my maternity leave as early as I could. On busy days at work, I would get so distracted that I used to feel like I did not spare much time to bond with my baby girl or was too tired to do so at the end of the day. I felt like I had time to just reflect on my thoughts and bond with her at my own pace when I was on leave. I even recommenced painting after many years, started writing a pregnancy journal, finished knitting a baby blanket and shoes and much more. Given the social distancing, everyone was working from home, so I was also being pampered well by my husband and my parents and happy to admit, it was bliss. Having your own time helped me physically, mentally and spiritually, something which I think is important to have during pregnancy given our fast-paced culture, so for all the working mums-to-be, I would definitely recommend starting your leave early, too if possible.

By the end of pregnancy, I still wanted to keep my baby girl all to myself inside me. I was ready for the birth, but I was dreading the after. I was bombarded with comments like ‘You’ve been pregnant forever; it’s our turn now to spend time with the baby!’, ‘get ready for the sleepless nights and endless nappy changes’ and ‘You won’t have time for yourself anymore, so make the most of it now’. I was convinced I would not be able to bond with the baby when she arrived. When I moved to my parents’ home closer to the due date, I spent time with my mother to talk it all through, my fears and concerns. I felt like my whole world lifted from my shoulder and I finally whispered to my bump ‘I’m ready for you now my baby girl. Let me know when you are too Love’. Uncharacteristically I then went back to tidying my bedroom.

On a lazy Sunday morning on 25th April, I was in my 41st week of gestation my contractions conveniently started after breakfast. I managed to bear them for a few hours until they worsened. My husband called the triage and I was admitted for assessment, but to my dismay, I was not in established labour yet, so was sent back home. I tried to welcome the contractions using breathing techniques, paracetamol, a TENS machine and a hot shower as advised, but when the waves of the pain reached its peak, it surpassed all my efforts by evening. I remember an affirmation I read a few weeks before ‘Every contraction brings you closer to your baby’, but then everything changed.

I crawled into the car agonizingly slowly and complained all the way to go slow as a snail’s pace to the hospital that night. Once admitted, my midwife kindly allowed my husband to stay with me and offered me all kinds of pain relief intermittently, including oral tablets, intra-muscular injections, gas and air and epidural. Most of which I had previously declined in my birth plan but was now desperate to try them all. They all helped me to some degree until the epidural was finally in after four painful attempts, and then it completely wiped out my labour pains. I was even able to take a short nap after and woke up to a sunny morning in time for the doctors’ ward rounds. I did not give consent to assisted delivery due to the risks associated and personal reasons, so my Obstetric Consultant had advised cesarean, although, in hindsight, it would have been nice to discuss and finalize this before I went into labour as an elective procedure. You can discuss the benefits and risks of having an elective birth with your midwife and Obstetrician if you are interested as part of your birth plan beforehand.

Gratefully, I had an uneventful surgery, and the moment we heard our baby’s first cry, it was music to our ears, and we felt complete as a family. All this time, not leaving my side, my husband was also incredibly calming me, reassuring me and coaching me.

Once in the postnatal ward, the thought of my husband then returning home due to the COVID restrictions did worry me about how I would manage on my own with my baby, but the midwives were caring and supportive. I was in my own personal bubble, and it was the best bonding time with my sweetheart with no interruptions. When we were discharged the day after, all I wanted is my Mum. When she scooped up my princess into her arms, we finally shared a special mother-to-mother moment in person. Since then, she supported us in taking care of our little girl day and night whenever I wanted to take a break, and I could not be more grateful to her. I hope that one day I can be that sort of parent to my little girl, Alekhya.

In retrospect, I feel extremely proud of myself to go through the pregnancy and birth despite the COVID lockdown and the scary birth stories. I feel happy to reframe my birth as something positive in the end and thankful for all the support from my husband, parents, friends and midwives. For all the soon-to-be mums, whether in lockdown or not, don’t be afraid of the scary stories and make the best use of all the available resources to help with your decision-making to frame your birth positively too.

*Thursday, July 16th*
I went to my 39 week midwife appointment. I was still 1cm dilated, which hadn’t changed since my 36 week appointment. Since I had Gestational Diabetes, my induction was scheduled for Wednesday, July 22nd.

*Sunday, July 19th*

3:00 PM
I thought labor was starting because I had contractions that were about 10 minutes apart for about 2 hours before they stopped.

*Monday, July 20th (due date)*

2:30 AM
I started having contractions about 10 minutes apart.

3:30 AM
I felt a small amount of fluid and rushed to the bathroom. Having checked everything, I assumed I had just lost my mucus plug because no more fluid came out once I stood up to go back to bed.¹ When I returned to bed, my contractions were about 8 minutes apart.

4:00 AM
I woke up Dan. My contractions were now 4 to 6 minutes apart and lasting 30-40 seconds.

4:30 AM
We decided to get up, shower, and get ready for the day.

5:00 AM
My contractions started getting even closer together (3 to 4 minutes), lasting about a minute each while I took my shower. At this point, we knew we were going to be heading to the hospital soon, so we called my parents so that they could be here to watch Leila.

5:30 AM
I took my 40wk bump picture (?) while Dan cooked breakfast. I ate and drank coffee between contractions. Dan also loaded up the car and I even checked my blood sugar (gestational diabetes) during this time.

5:45 AM
My contractions were now 2 to 4 minutes apart and lasting a minute or more.

6:00 AM
I called my midwife. She advised me to wait a little longer, and to go to the hospital at 7am. While I was on the phone I had 2 contractions, which I was still able to talk through.

6:30 AM
My contractions were 2 to 3 minutes apart and lasting more than a minute. They started to become far more painful at this point, too. As Leila woke up, Dan explained what was happening and we said goodbye to her. She was super excited to hear that baby sister was finally coming.

6:45 AM
We headed to the hospital. My contractions were about 2 1/2 minutes apart in the car, lasting more than a minute.² I could no longer talk through them.

7:00 AM
We arrived at the hospital. The main entrance for the parking garage was coned off, the first of many changes made at the hospital due to Covid-19 that we would encounter. Dan drove around the garage to see if there was another way to get in, with no luck. He stopped to ask a staff member outside the hospital where to park, stating that I was going to have a baby. After what seemed like an eternity, we finally
parked, got through another contraction, and headed for the entrance of the hospital.

7:10 AM
After weathering a few contractions in the parking lot on our way from the car, we made our way inside. Dan checked in with the new, and obviously makeshift, security checkpoint in the main lobby. Security informed us that we would have to wait for someone from labor and delivery to come escort us. As the dedicated entrance had been closed due to the pandemic, they would have to navigate a maze of hallways across the hospital. As we waited in the lobby, a few men walked by asking Dan if I was ok. He just kept responding with, “She’s ok, she’s just having a contraction.” (I was moaning through contractions at this point.)

Next, a hospital employee came through the main doors, and looked like he was about to begin his shift. He saw us and asked security if someone was coming to get us from labor and delivery. He took one more look at us and said: “I’m taking them.” He set his stuff down near the security desk and grabbed a wheelchair. He escorted us down several hallways and through many sets of locked doors. To me, it felt like he was running. Dan said he was walking briskly. I will forever be grateful for this man who got us to labor and delivery. He patted Dan on the shoulder, said “good luck,” and was gone by the time Dan turned around again to look for him. We never got his name.³

7:20 AM
We were finally at the labor and delivery desk. As I was moaning through contractions, Dan found and gave my ID and insurance card to the woman behind the desk. They wheeled me into triage, where they asked me to change into a hospital gown and leave a urine sample. They asked if I needed Dan to help me, and I said “no.” Once I answered, they took Dan to a triage “room.”

After another contraction, I sat on the toilet. As I attempted to fill the cup for my urine sample, I thought to myself: “Pee is not going to come out, a baby is!” I immediately pulled the help string next to the toilet and yelled for help.⁴ Three nurses and my midwife came in and I told them I needed to push. They stripped off my clothes, got me into a gown, told me not to push, and got me to my triage bed.

7:25 AM
My midwife checked me and said, “Complete and +2.” For those of you who may not be familiar with what that means, basically the baby was coming. They quickly wheeled me through the hall and into a delivery room. I kept telling them that I had to push, but they kept telling me to try to just breathe through the contractions. The delivery room was chaotic as they started getting the delivery bed ready. My midwife instructed me to “pant breathe” through one more contraction to help me not to push.⁵ Through the chaos I kept hearing Dan reassuring me that everything was going to be okay, and encouraging me to stay as calm as possible.⁶

7:30 AM
They were able to get me transitioned into the delivery bed between contractions. My nurse realized that I hadn’t taken my cloth mask off since arriving to the hospital and navigating the lobby and hallways.⁷ She quickly took it off of my face and tossed it to Dan. By now, my body was just naturally and instinctively pushing for me.⁸ Two pushes later and…

7:35 AM
Kyla Christine Ganoung is born. She was 7 lbs 12 oz, 20.25 inches long, born on July 20, 2020.

Things to note:

¹ It was actually my water that broke at 3:30 AM, and I just didn’t realize it. (We would have headed to the hospital then, had I known)

² If there would have been any traffic, I would have had her in the car or in the lobby of the hospital.

³ The man who took us to labor and delivery was seriously my guardian angel.

⁴ I honestly thought I was going to give birth on the toilet in triage.

⁵ Breathing through a contraction when your body wants to push is extremely hard.

⁶ I’m incredibly grateful for Dan. He kept me grounded in a situation that was so chaotic.

⁷ Breathing through contractions while wearing a facemask is very difficult.

⁸ The female body is incredible. I fully intended to get an epidural, obviously there wasn’t time for that. I am still in awe of what my body did to get my little girl safely into my arms.

Ever since we had our first child, which was an emergency action, I was determined to try for natural delivery the second time around.

When I conceived again, I tried to gather facts about VBAC (Vaginal Birth After Caesarean Section) and the associated risks.
Now that the baby is here, the nitty grittier doesn’t matter, but I feel sharing our birth stories can empower new parents, so if you are still interested to know my VBAC experience, read on!

And was pleasantly surprised to know that about three out of four women (75%) with a straightforward pregnancy who go into labour give birth vaginally following one cesarean delivery, with the risk of uterine/scar rupture being less than 1 percent ( two to eight women in 1000 – about 0.5%).

My doctor was on board with the idea of me trying for a VBAC, till week 39 – that’s when she was concerned with the fact that baby’s head was high up, not dropped the slightest and had still not descended lower into the pelvis. Also, the fact that the baby was on the bigger side, she was quite sure that it was going to end in a C-section and strongly advised me to schedule one in the next few days. I was quiet heartbroken and asked for some time to get mentally ready, as I really wanted this VBAC. Anyhow, I tried acupuncture, acupressure, and chiropractic to try and align my pelvis, ripen the cervix, walked like a crazy lady last few weeks (25k steps a day!), bounced on my exercise ball all the time, in fact, I stopped sitting anywhere but the ball, deep squats, pelvic tilts, raspberry leaf tea, you name it!

So yes, I was heartbroken when I got told the situation dint look favourable anymore. My husband and I talked, and we agreed to just wait it out. I went back to my OB/GYN, who was still half-heartedly ok to wait for 40+10 days but kept reminding me that there is no point to push it.

Finally, at 40+4 weeks, I went into spontaneous labour at midnight, did some pelvic tilts, squats and figure 8s on the ball during initial mild contractions, quick lookup at breathing during labour etc. Finally, around 2:30am asked my husband to get ready for the hospital. Around 3:15 am, we were in the hospital, with contractions being around 3 minutes apart and lasting around 40-50 seconds. Gradually they started getting stronger and more frequent. I made sure to practice deep breaths during the contractions, and yes, that helped me tremendously to stay calm and composed throughout the birthing process.

Around 4 pm, I was 3 cm dilated and was offered an epidural, which I gladly accepted. But as luck would have it, I was now 8 cm in a matter of 10 minutes, and sadly epidural was no longer an option. But the midwives assured me the baby will be out soon. Sure enough, our baby boy weighing 3.6 kgs (yes, big baby for me, considering I am only 5’2”), was out in the next few minutes. My husband got to cut the cord, which is something unheard of in our home country; we were quite lucky to have experienced it. I wanted it to be a part of the birth I imagined, as we couldn’t experience it the first time around (being an emergency section).

They immediately put the baby on my chest for skin-to-skin, while I let it all sink in. And as they say, once the baby is in your arms, you forget everything that leads to that moment. I could see moisture in my husband’s eyes; it was a magical moment that took us back to the birth of our lovely daughter, who was deep asleep at home.

Now coming to recovery, c-section vs vaginal birth, here is an honest opinion:

I was up on my feet minutes after vaginal birth, which is something I missed last time with a section, where anesthesia takes 8-10 hours to wear off, and considering it is major surgery it does take a while to heal.

But from my experience, c-sec recovery, even though slow, was quite smooth and straightforward for me. As for vaginal delivery, I could freely move around even though episiotomy stitches did start to bother me after a couple of days; it didn’t last long, though.

Another big plus for me was the duration of the hospital stay, I was in for 5 days with the section, which is something I desperately wanted to avoid. This time I was discharged the next day, though if it was left up to me I would have left for home straight after giving birth.

In a nutshell, while both births have their pros and cons, I would not rate one higher than the other; it all boils down to your personal preferences. My personal experience and recovery with C-sections was very smooth, and so was with the vaginal delivery.

And my 2 cents, if you would still like to have your VBAC/vaginal birth, please let the baby cook for as long as he wants; your body is made to do this! Remember to advocate for yourself; it’s your body, after all.

Good luck, fellow mamas and would-be mamas!