Baby #3 Birth Story And My experience Performing a VBAC
I hope my story inspires you to speak up and advocate for yourself, educate yourself on the birthing process, and discover more about yourself and what you’re capable of doing.
If you know me, you know that I’ve been eager to have a natural unmedicated birth since the birth of my first son. I’d like to say that at the time of my first pregnancy, having a “natural” birth was simply something I wanted to do. But, like many expecting moms at the time, I was heavily influenced by countless blogs and documentaries that claimed natural (vaginal) unmedicated births were the only way you should have a baby and that doctors were out to make money rather than look out for your best interests. So, you can imagine the disappointment I had when not one but two of my babies were born via cesarean section. I am grateful that they were able to make it into this world safely and without any setbacks. However, wanting to have a vaginal birth this third time around hit home a little different than the first time.
Before I go into detail about birthing my dear Easton and my experience with successfully performing a vaginal birth after a cesarean section (also known as a VBAC), I’d like to briefly level set on my current viewpoint regarding vaginal unmedicated births versus c-section births.
As women we should first and foremost reject the notion that one mother birthed her child “naturally” while another did not.
As women we should first and foremost reject the notion that one mother birthed her child “naturally” while another did not. Whether your child was born c-section or vaginally requires bears no weight as long as your child was safely brought into the world in a healthy body. Furthermore, I believe the advent of the c-section technique is a wonderful thing. Many women and babies would suffer today if the c-section did not exist, so I am grateful for science and innovation. With that said, I do believe that healthcare providers should use it sparingly and only in the event of an emergency. Too often I’ve heard (and experienced) stories where a c-section was suggested and executed simply out of convenience for the doctor – a heavy emphasis on “the doctor’s convenience” because if a mother decides to have a c-section for whatever reason, that’s her business.
I feel equally as strong about the use of medicine to reduce the pain of labor. I am grateful that scientists and doctors have found a safe way to administer medicine to reduce pain. I trust that most healthcare providers administer it responsibly and encourage moms to ask questions and learn about the different medicines offered. Moms should not feel pressured to use or not use medicine. Medicine is a good thing when used appropriately and sparingly if possible.
So now to the story…
Unmedicated labor and vaginal births should not be characterized as this euphoric experience in my opinion. Maybe some moms have cracked the code, but without divine intervention I am unsure how the pain of labor can ever be “pleasurable” (insert hysterical laugh here). I had a birthing coach once tell me that some women have nerves like ramen noodles and some have nerves like linguine noodles. The woman with linguine noodle nerves can typically deal with pain relatively easy but the women with ramen noodle nerves feel everything and find pain hard to bare. Then there are women who fall within the spectrum. I would say my pain tolerance is somewhere in the middle. I feel a lot but I can endure quite a bit.
That’s where I found laboring to be the most challenging – enduring the pain. During the first few hours of labor – starting roughly around 3 AM that morning – I managed to use what’s called “hypnobirthing”. Hypnobirthing is exactly what it sounds like. You take your mind somewhere else other than in the room with your pain. You imagine the pain is something you enjoy. I know, it sounds crazy but it’s a solid strategy if you can execute it. So for the first few hours I imagined I was on a beach somewhere and each contraction was a tide coming into the shore and then flowing back into the sea. The whole idea is to distract you so that you don’t think about the pain. Distracting myself worked until I was about 6 hours into labor.
I can only imagine how our partners feel watching the person they love go through a seriously painful process and not be able to do anything about it. Even for them, laboring is a challenge.
My midwife and I had discussed my birthing plan prior to me going into labor. Because I wanted a VBAC, her instruction was for me to labor as much as I could at home. I was to come into the hospital when I felt like the baby was definitely about to descend or when I simply couldn’t bare the pain anymore. I was not about to have my baby at home or cut it that close. Doing so might have traumatized my poor husband who would probably prefer the stork to bring our little angel into the world. However, jokes aside, birthing babies (especially for black women) is a scary thought these days. The stories we hear almost makes you want to forgo the whole process because it’s so risky. Likewise, I can only imagine how our partners feel watching the person they love go through a seriously painful process and not be able to do anything about it. Even for them, laboring is a challenge. Nevertheless, my goal was to endure the laboring process at home without medicine until I reached what I felt like was my peak of pain intolerance.
Unlike my last pregnancy where I labored for about 2 days – slow and steady – this pregnancy progressed much faster. It seemed like my contractions were coming in back-to-back and I wasn’t catching much of a break. During my last pregnancy I followed the 5-1-1 rule – go to the hospital when your contractions are five minutes a part, last one minute long, and are like that for at least one hour. Last time, as soon as I met the 5-1-1 rule, my husband and I rushed off to the hospital with my perfectly prepared hospital bag. At the time my water hadn’t broken and I was managing my pain well. When we arrived at the hospital, I completed the intake paperwork and calmly sat in the waiting area, breathing through each contraction as they prepared a room for me. Once I entered the room the nurse greeted me and informed me that I’d have to take and pass a covid test before the entire nursing staff was able to enter the room. After about 45 minutes, I met the necessary nurses and they checked to see how much I had dilated. If I remember correctly, I had dilated all of 4 cm which is laughable compared to this time around. I had been there another 2 or 3 hours before I reached about 8 cm dilated and then I asked for pain medicine through my IV because the pain was too much to bare. Shortly afterward, I opted for an epidural because I was exhausted and unable to take the pain anymore. I should probably write a full post about my second pregnancy and labor. But, long-story-short, after receiving the epidural I felt super relaxed. However, my baby’s (Kingston) heartbeat was starting to slow down. The nurses kept turning me from side-to-side to make Kingston more active but it wasn’t working. When I finally reached 10 cm dilated the OB asked me to try and push him out even though he hadn’t really had an opportunity to descend. With his heart rate steadily slowing down the OB then suggested we proceed with a c-section to ensure the baby was okay considering the circumstance. The OB or nurses didn’t say it outright, but common sense told me that the epidural definitely had an effect on the baby’s heart rate, so I moved forward with the c-section because I was worried about my baby making it into the world.
I give you the brief story of my second pregnancy and birth because that experience shaped a lot of my decision making this time around. I was determined to have a vaginal birth this time so I made sure to stay home as long as possible. As I breathed through the contractions this time I began to remember all too well the pain I felt last time when I was in the hospital laboring. I remembered how I felt when I asked for the pain medicine and epidural. At some point I had reached that peak of pain again. I debated going to my midwife’s office instead of the hospital because I didn’t want to go to the hospital with only have dilated 4 or 5 cm again. I didn’t want to get anxious and ask for pain medicine or an epidural too early and jeopardize my baby’s wellbeing again. However, I knew that I was at a point that I needed the pain medicine and I had endured as much as I could. At this point the hypnobirthing technique wasn’t cutting it. My mom was supporting me by massaging my back and squeezing my hips to relieve pressure but then I started feeling the urge to push. So I made the executive decision to go straight to the hospital, it was time.
In a funny way it was kind of like the movies from that moment on. I haphazardly threw a hospital bag together. From experience, I knew I didn’t need pack much but I wanted to at least bring the baby an outfit to go home in and some comfortable pajamas to sleep in post-birth. I was stopping every few steps to breath or wail through contractions. We hopped in the car and sped off to the hospital. When we reached the hospital we didn’t take the time to park. We pulled right up to the door as I was experiencing another contraction. I was expecting hospital staff to run out and immediately help me out the car and into the building but they took a minute to address me. That should have been an indication of how my experience would continue to unfold but I ignored the lack of urgency and made my way to the front desk while my mom held my tight grip.
When I got to the front desk the receiving nurse – again with little urgency – asked for my license and insurance. Then, again to my surprise, she asked that I take a seat in the waiting area while they completed the check in process. While I tried to be as pleasant as possible while experiencing each contraction, I was getting a bit upset that I wasn’t given more attention. Again, I ignored the mediocre service and proceeded to sit in the waiting area. After a moment of sitting, I couldn’t take it anymore. I got up, still gripping my mom’s hand, and decided to take a walk around the waiting room. Each time I had a contraction I’d pause, sometimes breathing heavy, sometimes letting out a bawl or two. The front desk nurse then proceeded to walk over and ask me to calm down because I’m scaring the other mothers in the waiting room – THE GALL!
I’m so thankful I had her in my ear reassuring me that I was capable and free to do whatever I needed to do along the way.
I honestly could not believe the nurse told tell me to calm down. Had she ever experienced labor pains? Even if she hadn’t, I couldn’t have been the first mother to walk into the labor unit in excruciating pain. For my sake – and my mother’s who was ready to give the lady her 2 cents – I took a breath and simply said, “okay”. It was all I could muster to say. My mother mustered way more than me but she reminded me that I didn’t have to listen to the nurse and to get through the pain as best as I could, even if that meant bawling some more. I’m so thankful I had her in my ear reassuring me that I was capable and free to do whatever I needed to do along the way. After another nurse came out of the ward to retrieve another mother, she heard me wail and asked if I was ready to be admitted. I’m not sure what happened but that put some urgency behind the other nurse and I found myself being wheeled into a labor room soon after.
I guess my shouting and crying-out did me a little justice because the nurses came rushing into the room, assembling the IV and plugging me up to machines. Another nurse checked my dilation and I was a superb 7 cm. “Thank God”, I said to myself because I would’ve been disappointed had I only dilated a few cm. During this time, I kept pushing through the pain as the nurses moved around me. Another nurse came in and swiftly administered a covid test. Every so often I could hear the nurses discussing my progression. Occasionally they would ask me questions, questions I thought they should’ve easily been able to look up in the medical records I gave them when I entered the hospital. This is why I didn’t put together a written “birth-plan”. Never have the nurses looked through plans or papers I brought to the hospital. They always ask their own questions and base their actions on their own notes anyway. I would like to say I was completely annoyed at this point but I didn’t care. I blurted out responses and continued to listen for indications as to how far I had progressed.
At some point, one nurse thought that it was appropriate to inform me about the “unusual” nature of performing a VBAC after having two c-sections. Her exact words were – “its never been done”. I think that statement was the only thing to truly distract me from a contraction that day. I replied, “you mean it hasn’t been done at this hospital before?” She said, “it hasn’t been done anywhere”. What an ignorant thing to say. Not only was it ignorant, but it was insensitive. I couldn’t think of a reason why she would feel the need to tell me that. Like, what’s in it for her? Shortly after that exchange, another nurse mentioned that “the doctor wouldn’t be happy about performing a VBAC” because “they just don’t do them”. I mean, again – THE GALL!
Eventually the OB walked in and went over my medical records and asked the nurses about my progression. After finding out that I was attempting a VBAC, she told me that it was something she couldn’t perform. As a practice, she and the other OBs at some point decided that they would not support VBACs as a group. I told her that I communicated my plan to have a VBAC to the other OBs in her practice during my prior prenatal appointments. Of course, she was the only OB I hadn’t had an opportunity to meet prior to this moment. She asked which doctors I spoke with and what they said and …I mean… In this moment I had reached what felt like my highest point of pain so some major eye-rolling was in full effect. After spewing off the doctors names and insisting on having a VBAC, she told my husband that we would have to sign a release form stating that we went against their advisement. Ideally, they would’ve liked me to have a c-section, even after I had naturally progressed through labor up until this point with no issues except my attitude. I told her that signing the release form was fine with me. They should’ve just said that from the beginning and skipped the back-and-forth.
Around 8 cm I asked for pain medicine because the labor pain was kicking my butt. The nurse confirmed my contractions were coming back-to-back and that it was a wise decision to take medicine so I could catch a break and have some rest before I pushed baby out. The nurses gave me fentanyl which definitely took the edge off and helped me get to about 9 1/2 cm. The nurse informed me that my baby might be a little sleepy from the medicine when he arrived. Knowing that information didn’t sit too well with me but neither did my distress. The nurses checked for progression a few more times before one of them said the baby had began to descend and was in position. Those were the magic words I was waiting to hear because I quickly asked for an epidural. Now, I’ve heard that after a certain point in labor most doctors won’t give you an epidural, but I guess they were sick of my drama. My contractions were a force to be reckoned with for sure. I was screaming and gripping my husband as he recited to me what we learned in birthing class. I was moving around the bed like I was possessed and sweating. I would’ve given me an epidural even if it were against “the rules” too.
When you’re given an epidural you have to be extremely still and in an uncomfortable humpback position sitting on the side of the bed. You can imagine this was hard for me to do while contracting every minute but you bet I mustard up whatever strength (and hypnobirthing technique) I had left in me to be very still. Once the epidural hit, I was ready to finish the job. I was able to get a little rest before pushing. They had reached in to place a monitor on the babies head to track his heart rate more accurately than the monitors placed on my stomach. After resting a bit, they asked me to start pushing. I don’t know how long I pushed for but eventually the baby’s head started to crown. Apparently his head was lodged under my pelvic bone and – with me being unable to move very much – they suggested they use a suction to help pull baby out.
Using a suction was a decision I wasn’t really ready for. I hadn’t researched the risks associated with it. I honestly didn’t know what it all entailed or how it looked. However, the doctor told me my options were to suction the baby out or go for an emergency c-section and I needed to make a decision quickly. I looked over at my husband who I think phoned a friend about it. Given the information we had on hand, we realized one solution wasn’t necessarily better than the other. After going through so much already, I absolutely refused to succumb to another c-section. So, I told the OB to suction him out if that was what we needed to do. I pushed a few more times from various angles and then they proceeded to suction him out.
One last push made him come out and I heard him scream a very strong, un -“sleepy” cry. I couldn’t have been more relieved. They placed him on my stomach for skin-to-skin. I awkwardly held him not knowing how I should stabilize him while trying to avoid spreading goo and blood everywhere. I wanted to kiss him, but again, the goo and blood was unavoidable so I passed.
I honestly can’t say I felt joyful in that moment. I felt jittery from the medicine. I felt tired and I wanted to sleep. I felt concerned when they took him away to clean him up and check his vitals. I didn’t cry nor was I overwhelmed with happiness. I was just relieved I think.
the best part of a vaginal birth is the recovery process.
After the placenta came out the midwife stitched together my third degree tear – sigh. About thirty minutes later I was wheeled into the recovery room. I gained feeling back into my legs way more quickly than my c-section births. When I got up to use the bathroom I happily surprised because I was so used to being hunched over in pain from my c-section scar post-birth. I tell everyone who asks me – the best part of a vaginal birth is the recovery process. After birth I was able to hold my baby unassisted, use the bathroom and move around the room as needed virtually painless. Peeing was uncomfortable and the idea of my first bowel movement was downright terrifying. However, those setbacks were minor compared to the setbacks I had after my c-section.
When I look back on my experience all I can say is that I’m grateful. I am grateful that I had supportive husband who put his fears aside so I can pursue what industry would consider a risky birth. I am grateful for my mother who caught the first flight into Atlanta that morning to help me labor. She constantly reminded me that I was capable of reaching my goal. I am grateful for my grandmother who wrangled my 2 toddlers while I labored.
Side note: I thought their [my toddlers] presence while I was laboring at home would’ve brought on all this oxytocin. It didn’t. I love my kids but they were definitely in the way and stressing me out. I found being in my room and by myself to be the most calming environment.
I am grateful for my capable and competent healthcare team. I don’t blame the entire team for a few bad apples. Likewise, while the OB on staff was insensitive at the onset, once we signed the release form she was on board and rocked it.
Most of all I am grateful for my sound mind and abilities. The way I had to chant to myself and psych myself out sometimes. The way I had to advocate for myself before and during my labor. The way I had to let go and let God. I am truly grateful and because I am grateful I am also proud.
This experience proved to me that VBACs are possible as long as you are a healthy and capable being. I believe that you should allow the body to do what it’s supposed to do from the birthing process to the healing process and any other process it goes through. Minimal if any intervention and medicine is always best in all facets of your health in my opinion. Choosing to utilize minimal procedures doesn’t mean those procedures are bad. As the adage says – too much of anything can be a bad thing.
Everything happened in its on time the way it was supposed to happen and I am grateful that it did.
My experience was neither overly delightful or completely dreadful, it just was. Everything happened in its on time the way it was supposed to happen and I am grateful that it did. If you’re reading this in preparation for your own birth, remember that your experience won’t be like mine or anyone else’s. But I hope my story inspires you to speak up and advocate for yourself, educate yourself on the birthing process, and discover more about yourself and what you’re capable of doing.
Life With Ess 