Mistie's VBAC Birth Story

They said I couldn’t, and it wasn’t allowed. I said I darn well could, I would, and I darn well DID!
My name is Mistie and I was due with my second child on August 21, 2012. My first child was born via cesarean 18 months before due to an immediate drop in heart rate and blood pressure that wouldn’t change with changing of positions. He had to come out immediately or we could have lost him. My experience with having a cesarean wasn’t a bad one except I didn’t like the pain and recovery time that came with it. 
.When I got pregnant with my second child 10 months after having my first baby, I didn’t know how much of a fight it would be to have him naturally the way nature intended. I live in Kingsland, Georgia thanks to the military. I have lived all over the country and have experienced many things, and never once would I have thought that I would have been told that I wasn’t allowed to have my baby naturally at the local hospital. Every person I spoke to at the hospital or doctor offices said the same thing: scheduled c-section.  I can honestly say that at the beginning of my second pregnancy I was very ignorant about child birth in America, and so were a lot of people I talked to.  I had always assumed that if you had a cesarean you could still have a vaginal birth the next time. Apparently I was mistaken according to the nurses at the hospital, some friends, and the worse part, family. 

For the first 12 weeks I had the hardest time emotionally and was to the point of giving up until I found what I needed.  I found a Dr who was willing to support me in my birth choice and be encouraging about it! I had called three different hospitals and at least 5 OB/GYN offices and was either told no, hung up on, or had someone who didn’t know what I was asking before I had someone say yes. I was frustrated, upset and scared. I kept thinking “is it really this hard to have a baby naturally?” Having a homebirth wasn’t an option for me because of my first pregnancy, I wasn’t willing to take a chance on something happening to my baby and not getting to a hospital in time. My only problem was that she and the hospital were at least 45 minutes away in Jacksonville, but I was willing to make that drive. It seemed like in person, she was the only one who said I could and would have my baby naturally. Some friends were supportive, but a little skeptical considering where I lived and whether the doctor would actually follow through with the promises she made. My family was the worst, and the reason I fought the hardest to have my baby naturally. To have the women of my family tell me that once I had a c-section that I would always have a c-section because that’s what my cousins and other members of the family were told and experienced. I was hurt, offended, and most of all angry. I was hurt that the women I look to for support and advice weren’t supportive and said I couldn’t and wouldn’t be able to have my baby naturally. I was offended by how ignorant they were, and how easily their doctors and others used that to their advantage. But most of all I was angry! Who were they to say that I couldn’t do it? How could they sit there 2000 miles away in Idaho and tell me that I was wrong and to expect to have a repeat c-section. The words they said not only made me angry but filled me with determination and resolve. I was going to have my baby naturally and I was going to show them that it can happen. I wanted the members of my family to remember me if/when they ever came to this type of situation. It became the driving force that kept me going when I nearly gave in. 

My second pregnancy went better than the first, I didn’t gain as much weight, I kept the blood pressure down and thankfully wasn’t as sick as I was with the first.  Once a month I drove the 45 minutes down I-95 from Kingsland, Georgia to Baptist medical downtown, most of the time I took my child with me. The office staff always looked forward to seeing me and my son, in fact someone was always willing to play peek a boo while I had to stand on the scale or get blood drawn. I had an amazing doctor who listened to everything I had to say, even if it was just to complain about something small in life. I told her that I wanted to have my child naturally and if that meant no epidural and coming in pushing I would do it. She laughed and agreed with me, I could and would have a VBAC and I could have the crazy juice if I wanted it. She gave me some limitations, I had until 41 weeks before we considered induction if I was favorable, or a repeat c-section or if something went seriously wrong with the pregnancy. After giving me those two rules, she never mentioned having a repeat c-section. I didn’t actually believe that it would be that easy so I would bring it up at ever meeting, and each time she would tell me the same thing: that I’m going to have the baby naturally. At one point when I asked about birth plans she told me not to make one, and if I felt the need to have one, don’t show it to her because she’s superstitious about birth plans and VBACs. Having a birth plan would jinx the birth and I’d end up with another C-section so she didn’t want to even know about it. Who would have thought I managed to find a superstitious doctor?

The last weeks of pregnancy were hard on me emotionally and physically. My body went into early labor sooner than I did with my first and my body decided to be evil and play games with my head. I had constant contractions at 37 weeks, lost my mucus plug and bloody show at 38, and harder contractions at 39. At 39 weeks I was only 1cm dilated compared to 3 with my first. I was impatient to say the least! I didn’t like the end of this pregnancy, with the first I was excited, happy and my husband had just gotten home from deployment. This pregnancy, I was worried about actually getting to the labor part, worried about my toddler and other day to day things on top of having contractions. I was an all around stressful mess, but I was a determined stressful mess. At my 39 week appointment my doctor told me that she was going out of town the next week on my due date, she said she honestly thought the baby would come out sooner than my due date because of all the signs I’ve been having. If I didn’t give birth by my due date I would have to see one of her associates at the appointment and maybe the birth if I went into labor while she was gone. I had never met any of the other doctors in the practice, so I was worried about how supportive they would be. My doctor made sure that my plan for a VBAC was plastered all over my file and that her associates knew our plans. At 40 weeks I met with another doctor after having fetal monitoring and an ultrasound done. He had me worried because he wasn’t very talkative. He came in the door, grabbed a glove, and went for my goods before even mentioning his name! I had to make him stop and talk to me for a minute before I allowed him to examine me. It was little funny afterwards since my husband was with me. He made jokes about it the whole drive home.  Even at my 40 week appointment there was no mention of induction or scheduling a c-section, all I was told was that I was going to go into labor soon. Soon was a word I hated by the end of my pregnancy, along with “how are you feeling?” But the thing I hated the most was when people would ask when they were going to schedule me for a repeat c-section. My answer would always be the same: “they’re not” and I hoped each time I said it that I was right. 

Finally, at 40 weeks and 5 days my water broke at 2 o’clock in the morning and it was a gush! It was Hollywood movie worthy, in my opinion. I woke up to a pop in my pelvic area and the sudden urge to pee. I clinched the urge to get up and go to the bathroom and as I stood up I got a gush of water down my legs. It was scary and confusing because I knew I was still holding it, but I was giving Niagara Falls a run for its money on gallons per minute over the side. It took me a second to fully wake up and realize what had happened. I was still gushing when my husband came running with a pile of towels and clothes. I had to still pee so I walked to the bathroom and went all the while still leaking water. My husband thought it was funny. Within ten minutes we were out the door on our way to the hospital after calling the doctor and my doula. My contractions started in the car 45 seconds long 3 minutes apart each time. My husband managed to get us to the hospital just under 30 minutes when it always takes me 45 minutes to drive there, but I never drove at 2 am. Within a few minutes I was in my room getting hooked up to a monitor. The attending nurse was amazingly nice and understanding. She made sure my doula could get upstairs without any problems and helped me stand every time I needed to work through a contraction. It took them about 2 hours to get me fully admitted and hooked up to an IV. It took three nurses and 5 tries to get the IV started much to my annoyance. Apparently the most experience nurse was attending a cesarean and the other nurses weren’t as competent about starting an IV in a hand with difficult veins. 

I managed to go five hours before asking for an epidural, and even then I was scared of getting one. I had a horrible experience with my first pregnancy and I was worried that people would think me a wuss for only managing 5 hours of labor before asking for an epidural. My husband and Doula were there for me the whole time helping me stand through contractions or anything else I needed, even sneaking me a drink of water when I really needed it. The doctor administering the epidural finally came in and did a fantastic job. He made me so happy and not scared any more, it just proved to me that the last doctor to administer one on my back was an idiot. Another 4 hours went by easily, with me dilating at a good rate. The doctor who was filling in for my doctor would come in and check on me. He never once mentioned me needing to be prepared for a c-section. As far as they were concerned, I was just a woman giving birth naturally. How I had my first child didn’t matter, I was having this baby naturally! Finally, 10 hours after arriving at the hospital, I was almost ready to push. Unfortunately, with every contraction the baby’s heart rate would decrease and each time took longer to go back to normal. The doctor came in and told me this was happening and gave me two options: too push for hours with the possibility that the baby will be able to handle it or to use a vacuum extractor and push for 30 minutes. There was a very real possibility that I could end up going in for another c-section if the baby couldn’t handle the hours of pushing with the way his heart rate was decreasing. I agreed to use the vacuum, after my doula explained all the pros and cons and possibilities. I didn’t want to take a chance of something happening to my baby and having to go in for a repeat c-section. The c-section wasn’t my concern, I’d do it if I needed to, and it was the baby I was worried about. 

The doctor and the nurses chit chatted away as I’m trying not to panic. I honestly didn’t believe that I would ever make it to the point of pushing. They had a hold of my legs, my husband on my left and a nurse on my right with my doula next to my husband and they had me pushing. I was focusing so hard on the nurse that I didn’t even hear what was going on anywhere else. The doctor was pointing out the baby’s head to my husband and telling him to get ready to cut the cord. My husband took it all in stride, even when the doctor cut me a couple times to help the baby’s head through. I was still trying to push when the doctor put my baby on my chest and had my husband cut the cord. I was so surprised I was frozen. My doula told me to touch him and finally put my hands on him when I didn’t move. I was shocked, overwhelmed and didn’t completely believe that I had just given birth. When they took him across the room to get cleaned I started crying and saying I did it. I got to watch them clean my baby and weigh him then I immediately got to hold him. There was no taking him away or me going to recovery somewhere else. Everyone congratulated me and the doctor said “see nothing to worry about you had him the way you wanted, congratulations.” 

Recovery was fast and completely different from having a c-section. We went home after 48 hours and everything seemed so much easier, except that I did end up with stitches. Walking and sitting were nearly unbearable when I got a hemorrhoid. I was so scared to have my first bowel movement; I actually tried to avoid it for as long as possible. I had a small case of depression in those first days, I became anxious to nurse my baby because of the pain, I cried when he did because I knew he wanted to eat. I finally talked with his pediatrician and had my first bowel movement, that was almost as painful as labor itself, okay not really but it was scary. I was so sure I was going to reopen the stitches, but afterwards my depression went away and I was able to enjoy my little one when he wasn’t nursing, I was still having some pain. 

The best part besides having my son was being able to tell people that I successfully had him VBAC style. I sent a picture via text on my phone to all of the women of my family who told me I can’t with the words “I DID it.” It was kind of an “I told you so” moment but I never meant it in a mean way. It makes me so happy to be able to tell them that just because you had a cesarean the first time doesn’t mean you will always have to have one. With my son’s birth I was able to educate the people around me. Not a whole lot, but enough to show them that I did it and they could to. I want them to be able to say “I can” when they are told no, or at least know that they have the option. It may not be easy but, the option is still there. Even my husband tells people that we had our son “VBAC style” and will always tell them that it’s possible they just have to find the way.

Candice's HBAC Birth Story of Mary

“The whole point of woman-centered birth is the knowledge that a woman is the birth power source. She may need, and deserve, help, but in essence, she always had, currently has, and will have the power.” ~Heather McCue

Birthing Story of Mary Ayn Rae Young

The night you were born changed my entire life.  Yes, we had planned the birth, planned to have you at home, practiced relaxation techniques – me more than your daddy, but nothing could prepare me for how I was going to feel about this entire experience.

It all started at around 4:00 on the morning of July 31, 2011.  My son came into my room, crying, and as I sent him back, I realized that I was having a very mild contraction; more than Braxton Hicks, but nothing that registered in my consciousness as labor, or even something to be noticed.

As I went back to sleep, I had about two more contractions over the span of the hours prior to the dawn breaking that were enough to rouse me.  I knew then.  It was like a quiet secret all to myself.  I had a very comfortable feeling we were going to have a baby that very day.

Little did I know that 8:00 would come complete with a very uncomfortable little boy throwing up.  The day found our feet hitting the floor in a hurry.  As I softly moaned through another contraction, Matt helped get Gavin settled and was trying to figure out where Gavin “drank too much water” from.  Turns out, his only experience with throwing up came from swimming lessons.  Matt took him, with a bowl, to the living room and turned on a long movie, Cool Hand Luke, that they could watch together while riding out his nausea.  No matter what we gave him, it came back up.  Poor soul fell asleep in his arms partway through the movie.

I got up and right away got a load of maternity laundry started in case we needed to transport and I needed clothing to go with me, got a shower and vainly dried my hair to look nice for later, ate breakfast, and kept moving.  I got the huge stack of dishes on the counter washed and in the machine for drying, then started picking up clutter, and vacuuming the floors.

All of that in the span of a couple hours, and I swayed through the couple of contractions I had, moving my hips to help get the babe in position.  I smiled at the thought that this felt so different from my first labor.  This was all to keep me upright and distracted while doing so.  I called my best friend, because I could no longer keep this secret to myself.  She offered to bring over dinner to ensure I wouldn’t have to worry about cooking and asked if anyone was taking care of Gavin.  I told her we had it handled, and not to worry, as it was still very early first stage, this may well take either hours, days, or a week.  I was still easily talking through them, and able to stay upright, so I did.  I texted the midwife to just give her a gentle heads up to keep her phone handy.

It was around noon, the house was clean and ready, and I was able to sit and relax with my boys.  I had been drinking to stay hydrated, and eating when hungry to stay fueled.  (Tuna fish and crackers for lunch?  It was the easiest option without cooking.)  I simply knew that we were having a baby, and wanted to stay in front of labor while I still could.  I laid down for a nap on the couch to keep my rest up.  I had three contractions wake me up that required stretching and a bit more focus.  Deeper relaxed, I kept saying to myself, reminding myself that my uterus was doing much work to help make room to bring my baby here.  Slowly the process took over.

Around 3:00, I woke up from the nap, well aware that I was in full blown labor.  Every time I sat up or moved, another contraction would follow, and they were getting to be more intense.  We had moved from officially 40 minutes apart to about 10 minutes apart in that seemingly short span.  I sat on the ball for a while, and Matt was making plans to run out to get food for the house and dinner, as well as supplies for Gavin.

I took Gavin to the bathroom with me while Matt had a surprise from our neighbor saying our dogs had gotten loose before he was able to leave.  Gavin hung with her for a few minutes while I sat on hands and knees in the bathroom floor, waiting for the dogs to be secured, and Gavin to return to me, and Matt to hurry to the store so he could come home.  My world became very small.  The tiniest details of our bathroom.  The text on the spines of the books on the back of the toilet.  The way the fibers looked on the bath mat.

Gavin sat with me in my own little universe while we got through both of our ailments together.  He rubbed my back, saying “it’s okay Mommy, it’s okay”.  Sweetest of little boys.  Larissa made it with baked ziti to my house, took one look at me, took action to get Gavin fed, and then made me eat a few bites of food as well.  Thankfully, since I was not in my right head to feed the hunger that had been plaguing me for a while before.

She heard me deal with more contractions than she was comfortable with, tried a couple of different techniques for help with coping, then softly demanded that I call my mother; that it was time, and Gavin is going to need more care than she and I could provide.  I agreed.  One more contraction, and I was able to call her, and did so quickly, so she would not have to hear me deal with one.  I told her things were picking up and getting serious, and I needed her to come and care for Gavin while I labored.  She did so, cheerfully, and I hung up and moaned through another wave.  Larissa, bless her heart, would have stayed, but my boy being sick was making her sick, so she had to make a quick exit the second Matt came home.

Things were rockin’ and rollin’ and this is where my memory gets a bit fuzzy.  Tara, the midwife, called and listened to me for a few minutes.  She had been calling all day in intervals to check and make sure I was coping well, eating, drinking, also to check on my body processing labor and not producing bad things like excess blood and the like.  I had had no bloody show, no waters breaking, no mucus.  The only thing I was relying on was my emotional sign posts, and the intensity of contractions.  No, I had not been timing them, just guessing how far apart.  I purposely stopped looking at clocks very early on in labor just so I didn’t stress the numbers.  Once she listened to me handle a couple of contractions, she concluded that I was far enough along to need assistance, and instructed me to call Cecilia, the Doula, and get her on the way as soon as I could.

I hung up with her, called my photographer who heard me simply speak and told me she was on the way (apparently, I was appearing very ready to have a baby, while I was thinking I might have a long time left to go).  I called Cecilia, but from a text we shared earlier, I knew she was teaching class and couldn’t be free until 9 pm, but I left her a voicemail anyway.  I had not looked up in what felt like a very long time, and I was vocalizing through every wave.  I found myself standing in the door frame of the bathroom, utilizing my fist at the small of my back, pushing against one side of the frame with my full back, the other with my feet, counter pressuring my way through.  They were coming on top of each other.  I was not freaking out, but I knew birth was going to be imminent.

Matt was listening to me, and asked if he should fill the pool, I could only nod.  He left and got started.  I got through a few more, and he returned to tell me that the pump would not work to get air into the pool.  I could only shake my head, while inside I was not wanting any bad news, but couldn’t find the words to tell him so.  He left again to finangle a solution to our problem, and called my mom to ask how far away she was, and to inform her that the pump she loaned us wouldn’t work.  She was about 20 minutes out, but heard me in the background and, in a very worried tone, asked how far apart I was.  I growled at Matt upon the asking that I thought I was about 3 to 5 minutes apart.  Mom hurried.

Once she got here, she immediately broke out a watch and started timing.  She quickly found out that I was 2 minutes apart with 30 seconds in between waves.  She proceeded to ask where the midwife was and freak out a bit since we were alone; all she could see was us catching a baby by ourselves.  I don’t think she could have ran a marathon to get the nervous energy out of her.  She physically supported me through a couple of waves, and I hung my body onto hers for one; it was nice to not have to hold myself up.

My universe was still very small, and I had long since closed my eyes to all the light and energy going on around me.  I needed to be alone.  I needed to have people support me.  I needed to not be touched.  I needed to have someone to hold me.  I needed to have silence.  I needed to have someone tell me I was doing well.  I told Matt that I was pretty sure this was not my greatest idea, and that this was really painful.  He did what men do best and told me that we were in the thick of it now, and it was a tad late to back out of laboring.  I agreed, and turned back inwards as another (another) wave came crashing through.

I kept thinking that my uterus works.  My cervix is working.  I felt everything up front and in my thighs as well as my abdomen.  It was the most intense thing I have ever gone through.  I somehow still thought that we had a while to go.  I also knew with my self doubt that transition was coming, and with that thought, up came dinner.  Bingo.  My tell tale sign that pushing was coming up on the horizon quickly.

The pool was announced to be ready, and with that, I somehow hauled my body into my bedroom to change from my nightgown into my tankini top that I bought especially for the occasion.  I clipped my hair up, and hauled my body back down the hallway to climb into the warm waters.  Off went the overhead light, and I finally caught a small break as my body adjusted to the therapeutic heat of the birthing waters.  I was able to grasp the handles and allow my body to float a bit.

I, at this point, had no idea how many people were outside on my porch…turned waiting room.  All I knew was as soon as my mom arrived, Gavin was whisked out to be watched by caring hands.  People were coming in and out.  Matt sat across from me in his chair.  My body adjusted and the waves were back to one on top of the other.  Stephanie came through the door and with a caring smile and soothing voice came down and said hello on my level.  I remember looking in her eyes and feeling a bit of relief that at least all of this will be captured in a beautiful way, and she was just in time.  She made her own introductions to those in the room, and with that, I was back into laborland.

I was constantly announcing start and stop to my mom, as she was still timing.  I couldn’t get comfortable.  I wanted to run away from my body.  I was writhing when all the sudden, at the peak of another, my mom took my hands, and held her head close.  I so needed that.  I needed anchoring.  I needed to re-center, and I needed the hands of support at just that level to hang onto; I needed a piece of something outside myself to help keep me out of my own way.  My head needed to be reminded to relax, that my contractions are not stronger than me, because they are me.  My mom’s hands did that.

‘This woman’s work’.

With that realization tucked into my head and heart, the next thing I remember was the midwife’s assistant, Tonya, arrived.  She made her introduction, but I never looked up, I just weakly waved.  Late labor sounding; low, but getting louder.  I kept trying to keep my tones low in my gut this whole time.  The lower the tones, no matter the volume, the more relaxed the body gets during each wave.  Thankfully, my consciousness kept that nugget of wisdom handy.

Tara came through the door not much later.  More introductions and hellos.  She got down to business and got the doppler out for the first check in my labor.  Heart tones were great.  She took my temperature and blood pressure, and upon satisfaction of those numbers, proceeded to set up her equipment.  I pointed her to the direction of the Birth Kit in my bedroom, as Matt had already brought out her other items in the big bin.  The next thing I remember, Cecilia walked through the door, and immediately took place right next to Matt’s chair on the stool he had set up in front of me for his seat.  He happily sat in his recliner instead.  During each wave, I reached out and asked for hands.  That simple touch was so healing.  I got Matt’s fingers and Cee’s hands.  I squeezed the dickens out of Matt, and tried to hold Cee’s as gently as my hands would allow during the moment.  The baby’s hearttones were being checked every couple minutes; it was only mildly distracting since nobody was asking me to move out of my little world to accommodate them.

I was fully aware of every conversation going on around me, yet I could not contribute, nor did I want to.  It was rather nice , in between waves, to just lay there and be.  Be supported, be taken care of, be looked after, be cheered on.  Cee mentioned my “perfect Bradley relaxation”, then rubbed her finger over the one wrinkle I had in my forehead.  Having had it made known to me, I melted it away, and relaxed further.  Deeper relaxed.

Another wave came through, and I toned my way through it, but this time, I had to tone differently; my mouth needed to change shape, my throat needed to sound out.  My mom cracked the joke that I sounded like Dori doing whale impressions; while funny to the rest of the room, I could only glare at being disturbed.  This went on for a few more waves, my varied toning, hands anchoring me, upper body hanging over the side of the pool, knees supporting my working body, sweat starting to bead on my face.

Then it happened.

At the peak of a wave, I grunted out loud.  This caused a knowing look between the midwives and doula.  “Candice, can I check you, please?”  The one and only check during my labor of my cervix.   Tara was having a time trying to get in there under the water and in my current position, I finally just declared that checking in general is not fun, and to go ahead with however it had to be done.  Surprisingly, I felt nothing while she checked.  It was then declared that I was complete, and effaced.  Baby was nice and low.  Pushing could commence at my leisure.

Low and slow, that was what I kept repeating in my head.  Each wave brought about the uncontrollable urge to push with it, and for once, my body felt like it was working with me instead of me working against it.  I visualized in my head, and arc, and at the start of every wave, I was at the bottom of this arc, as I continued up, I would start to push, doing my most effective pushing at the top of it.  Slow.  Effective.  Slow.

I regained consciousness for a moment and looked straight up in front of me.  I was greeted by a warm smile from Cee.  She proclaimed, “you’re doing it, Candice!”  Indeed, I was.  I sunk back into my world pretty quickly.  But I was doing it.  Female hands holding mine, guiding me through.  Female hands reaching into the waters for measurements, confirming life is coming.  It was really wonderful to not hear people yelling at me to push, or counting to 10.

Somewhere along the way, during a push, I felt my membranes release.  “Something broke” I said, even though I knew immediately what “something” was.  I seem to remember more waves in between, but my memory jumps to as Tara was providing perineal support, she was noting the position of the baby, and gently guiding my pushing to slow down to avoid a tear.  Slowly, at her direction, I started to puh-puh-puh my way through with shorter, gentler, but controlled pushes, to help me stretch evenly.  While this was going on, Matt had a lot of different questions about the baby, including her hair color, but never once got up to check.  Cee happily gave him a play by play of what I was going through, as he kept telling me to breathe at the top of a pushing contraction.

I worked quietly.  It was intense work, but good work, and I knew this, even in the thick of the fog.

I was asked if I could turn over for heart tone readings, but I could not.  I could not move my body from the position that was working.  They had me move my leg out, and maneuvered to get low enough to hear, moved away when I was pushing, then came back when it was over; this was the one heart tone I could not hear right away, but Matt, and everyone else, heard the faint heart tone that was good and strong.  From having two babies, Matt had learned to tell the difference between maternal and fetal heart tones.

I could feel myself stretching with each small push.  Stinging, stretching, burning, but once the muscle stretched initially, it did not sting nearly as much on the next push.  I could feel her head stretching and coming down.  I felt her brow present, and all the fears of having an arm present with it went away.  I knew she was textbook perfect at that point.  I felt her brow come through, then her face, her chin, then I felt her rotate.  I knew I’d have her out soon.  Upon rotation, the neck came through, then one shoulder, another rotation back, and the other shoulder.  She easily slid into the warm birthing waters.

One hour after the birthing team walked into my home.  Eighteen hours after labor had begun.

10:28pm

I was overwhelmed and wanted to touch her, to hold her.  As Tara brought her up, I was trying to turn around and catch a glimpse of my prize.  She came out of the waters with healthy, strong cries; the sound that will bring tears to any new mama’s eyes.  I had to pull my leg up and over the cord, once thick and pulsing with life, now empty and white as it put what was left into my daughter.  I held her.  In the warm waters, we connected, and I drank in her scent from the top of her head.  I marveled at her beauty, and her small size.

She was wrapped into a fresh pink towel and a little white hat put on her head, as I was hoping to deliver the placenta shortly after her, so I wanted her connected.  The special bowl for catching the placenta was retrieved, and we waited while I adored the newest creation to come earthside.  More hot water was added to the pool, and as the warmth flooded around us, my heart poured over in elation.  I couldn’t believe that I was finally face to face with the one that I had dreamed over for so many nights before.

Time was ticking by, and after half an hour and only cramping to show for waiting, I made the call to cut and clamp her cord to get her to warmer, and drier, settings.  Matt was not all that interested in cutting, but my mom was all about it.  Two hemostats were placed, scissors passed, and with a loud “clack”, we were now two instead of one.

Gavin was briefly brought in to see her, but like any two and a half year old, all he saw was this really awesome pool in his living room and wanted in it right then.  Because he couldn’t, and he was feverishly sick still, he was ushered back out to be taken care of by family outside.  Thankfully it was a nice, warm summer night.

Now to get back down to business, and get this organ delivered.  One full glass of gatorade later, I was regaining strength and endurance.  While I leaned over the side of the tub once again, I started to sweat as the water was now hot again, and all I could feel was cramps again as my uterus did its work of detaching, and expelling it.  Mary made her way next door to my elderly neighbor’s house to make her debut with them.  It was quick, but it felt like an eternity that she was gone.  15 more minutes passed, and no placenta to be seen yet.  So we decided to come out of the water, with a plan of moving me to my bed, and giving it a bit more time before we give it a shot of pitocin.

Getting out of the pool was about as graceful as getting in.  After gathering myself around a chux pad, I waddled my way down the hallway to my bedroom to finally lay down and get out of my wet top.  This also provided prime opportunity for skin to skin with her, and to see if we could get her to latch to get the oxytocin flowing and my uterus to clamp down.  Then, with one giant push, and a sloosh, out it came into the bowl.  One hour and twenty one minutes after she was born.  It never felt so good to be done before.

My abdomen now soft and fleshy, an empty vessel that carried her.  It was time for a warm shower and to get cleaned up.  It took a bit of help to get me neatly into the shower, but once in, water flowing over me felt so nice, however, I was in a hurry to get back to my little pea pod.  I’m pretty sure that was the fastest shower I have ever taken.  Tara was giving me instructions as I was showering for care during this time and afterwards for my body.  Once out, I was asked to urinate.  That was the hardest part of this whole thing.  To control that muscle and make it work was an almost impossible task.  Tara turned her back and turned on the water in the sink in an effort to help my mind over matter.  I finally was able to dribble, and thus was able to get up and get back to my kiddo.  I was so happy and proud that I was up and moving within moments of giving birth.  I was not broken.  I was not beaten up.  I was a mother, a woman, and capable.

I was swimming in a sea of pink with all the towels around us.  My mom found a brush and brushed my long, wet hair.  I finally got her to nurse; her latch was perfect, both lips flanged out.  Time seemed to stand still as everyone waited and watched, making conversation.  Her newborn check was about to take place as a hot plate of ziti from Larissa was brought in to me and I handed her over.  I chowed down, not realizing how ravenous I was!

Tara checked over every single detail of Mary; nothing escaped her notice.  She observed, and made note of everything to Tonya, who was writing it all down.  She was so gentle with her.  Matt stepped forward to help weigh her; the one question everyone had burning in their back pockets.  Gently, she was placed into the sling, and held up in the air.

6 pounds, 9 ounces.  19 and 3/4 inches long.

One vitamin K shot, and a lot of pictures later, everyone was making their way out and saying their goodbyes.  It was around 1 a.m.  I was completely over the moon and swimming in a birth high.  It was a wonderful place to be.

I spent many hours in the night, next to my mom, simply beholding the wonder of what just took place.  She stayed the night with me, in the same bed, all three generations in the same space.

The warm July night in which you were born, we all rejoiced.

To see more pictures, you can view the slideshow.

Karen's HBAC Birth Story of Avery

May 3, 2012, 4:55pm
7lbs 8oz, 20.25 inches
Rebecca: my wife
Sammy: our 3.5 year old daughter

Around 39 weeks, I came down with a terrible intestinal illness. Actually, first my daughter got it, then I had it, and then my wife got it... And I didn't end up going into labor until everyone was well and the housekeeper we had temporarily engaged came and cleaned the house.

Anyway, starting with the night I came down with it, I'd been having light contractions on and off, but nothing that developed into any sort of pattern. Wednesday morning (housecleaning day), a day past my due date, Sammy and I went to preschool at the library as usual. I started having the same light, almost painless contractions. I ignored them, thinking they would stop soon. They kept coming consistently through lunch with my Mom and then our usual visit to my grandmother. I started timing while I was there. 7-8 minutes apart but very short.  I ignored them another couple of hours as we all got home. My mom came over to take me to my prenatal yoga class, since I didn't think I should be driving at that point. They were still about 8 minutes apart but spaced out a bit when I got up and moved around. Yoga class was nice; I took it pretty easy. I had several more during class and some good strong ones in the car on the way home. Rebecca was waiting for me when I got home with a glass of wine (doula's orders) and Sammy was sleeping upstairs.

After the glass of wine, some magnesium, and a shower, I laid down to get some rest. But laying down made them stronger and closer together, so I got up and fiddled around/tried to rest. By about 2am they were getting strong enough that  I woke Rebecca up to help me through them. They were less than a minute long, but about 2-3 minutes apart. Shortly we decided to call the doula and start setting up the tub.

Heather, our doula, showed up around 3:30am. I got in the tub for a while, which felt amazing. It didn't slow down the pattern of contractions.  The midwife came and checked me around 4:30. Then we took a walk around the neighborhood. Checked again, was declared to be in labor but very early. I was a bit discouraged due to the lack of bloody show and the difficulty the midwife had reaching my cervix. The midwife left. Soon Sammy woke up for the day. We had breakfast - eggs and toast - and then I got back in the tub and she helped pour water over my belly. My mom came over and helped Sammy get packed up and then took her to their house for the duration. I enjoyed having Sammy there for part of it, but definitely wanted her out of my hair by the time she left. She was very sweet but quite distracting for me, and not in a beneficial way.

For the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, under Heather's and Rebecca's ministrations, I got in and out of the tub, walked in the yard, listened to birth affirmations, tried to rest and eat, and tried various other positions and locations around the house. At two points - one in the tub and one upstairs on the birth bed listening to the Hypnobirthing affirmations track - I got into this weird dozing/lalaland state between the contractions. This was great because I hadn't slept the whole night.

I also had a few emotional moments. Heather kept making me try to poop, the meanie.  I was in the bathroom, and Rebecca disappeared to do something and I sobbed to Heather that I was afraid. I was afraid I wasn't going to be able to do it, I was afraid that I would be too weak. I don't remember what Heather said to me but I know it helped and I pulled my act together. Later she made me listen to the Hypnobabies VBAC track, which pissed me off because I was having such a long, difficult labor and it kept talking about "easy, comfortable" birthing. I was like, "screw you, hypnobabies!" So I sat in the birth tub and cried and felt very sorry for myself.

At one point Heather got me to sit backwards on the toilet with my head resting on pillows on the tank. I thought I would hate this position, because I hated sitting frontward on it, but it was actually really comfortable and I got in the zone there.

Occasionally the contractions spaced out a bit to more like 5 minutes apart, I think, but mostly stayed in the  3 minute range. I dealt with them by saying "Hooooooh" a lot, louder and louder as the intensity stepped up. Heather suspected the baby's head was cocked a little bit, interfering with dilation. About 2pm, Heather put me in the open-knee-chest position to let her float up a bit and hopefully reposition. I stayed that way for about 45 minutes, and then Heather and Rebecca took turns "sifting" my belly with a towel - holding up the weight of it with the towel and jiggling it back and forth to try to reposition Avery's head. The contractions then got very intense. They started coming one right after another with no or very little break. I was kind of singing my "hoooooh" sound, very loudly, with lots of vibrato :) Ashley, the midwife, checked my cervix right as this super-intense period started. I asked for this exam, hoping I'd be at around an 8. It was a very uncomfortable exam... I made them tell me a number, which was 5. I had a little bit of a breakdown then, thinking I was still many hours away from relief. I sobbed some more about how unfair it was that my labors were like this. Heather and Ashley wanted me to put my foot up in a lunge position to help with the asymmetrical dilation, but I couldn't deal with it during contractions. All I wanted was to get in the tub, so Rebecca was reheating it again. Finally it was ready, and I got in and was able to lift my leg out a bit for a few contractions. The tub helped a lot but it was still very, very intense. I was just hanging on for dear life. I knew it had to be transition but I also believed it couldn't be, that soon after being at 5 centimeters (which was actually generously rounded up, I later learned). I started thinking about transferring because I thought there was no way I could endure several hours of this, or if it got worse. And how in God's name I was going to ride in a car in this state? I stopped thinking about transferring, because NO. No car.

After a little while in the tub, about an hour after the belly sifting, something changed. I got "pushy", as they say. For some reason I started needing to grunt and bear down during the contractions. It was scary because I was sure this was too early to be pushing. After a few of those contractions, Heather asked me "Do you feel like you need to bear down?" My reaction was a dismayed, "I thought I was!" For some reason in my head I had translated that to "You are not bearing down right now, would you like to?" so I thought I was doing it wrong! But she assured me that yes, I was bearing down.

After she said that, I reached down and felt inside. I could feel the bag of waters (and, I guess, Avery's head) there. It was smooth and firm and right there in the birth canal. I told them I could feel her coming down. Ashley came and checked me in the tub - I remember her saying she was going to, and I remember her saying we were good to go, but I have no memory of the actual check. All of a sudden there was activity all around. Phone calls were being made, like telling the nursing assistant, previously told to take her time, to stop taking her time and step on it! The contractions spaced out a bit and I was so, so happy for the break.

The midwife said we could stay downstairs in the tub if I wanted to, and I couldn't decide what to do... I hadn't really wanted a waterbirth and I wanted to be upstairs, but I was kind of paralyzed with indecision.  Ultimately Rebecca reminded me that the plan was to go upstairs where all our beds and showers are, and I'm glad I went with that. The stairs seemed a bit daunting but I just waited for 1 more contraction, then got out, let them dry me off, and lumbered up the stairs before another contraction could come.

Everyone was busy hauling gear and everything upstairs. I kind of landed on the bed on my hands and knees, without really thinking through what position I wanted to be in, and pushed like that through a few contractions while they lay chux pads under me. Sometimes pushing felt good and sometimes it was terrifying and I cried and fought it instead. But I could feel myself making progress. Holding some pressure to keep her in place between the contractions was hard! I was so tired. I had a hard time holding myself up and wasn't comfortable at all, so I decided I wanted to flip over. I got on my back sitting up a bit and started pushing that way. During one of the pushes I felt a pop and gush as the membranes burst. I love that nobody was holding my legs up and yelling "Push! 1-2-3-4-5..." etc. They gave me some suggestions but I did what felt right.

The midwife was checking heart tones between contractions as she came down. When she was near crowning her heart rate was around 100 instead of 130's where it bad been. I think hearing that her heart rate was down a bit (even though it was still fine) gave me some extra motivation because I think in the next 1 or 2 contractions, I pushed through that burning ring of fire. They were saying stuff to me, instructions meant to keep me from pushing too fast and tearing, but I had a hard time understanding what they were asking and I was just doing what my body said to do.  I got her head out and then I heard them say "No more pushing, no more pushing." I got that! It was an incredible feeling. The midwife felt for a cord around her neck, then asked me when I was ready. I wasn't sure so I just said I was! I pushed some while she wiggled the baby right out. Delivering the rest of her hurt more than I thought it would, but it took almost no time and she slipped out - what a weird, wobbly feeling - and then she was on my chest and it was *amazing*. I said "Oh my God" about a hundred times and also "I did it!" a lot and "You're a baby!" (I'm not sure what else I expected.)

Avery's apgars were 8 and 9, and she didn't cry, just let out 2 or 3 little squawks as she became an air-breather. She really didn't cry at all until way later during the newborn exam, when she slightly objected to being weighed and having her temperature taken. She had come out with her head straight, but had a lump on the side of her head where she had been asynclitic against my cervix, just as Heather suspected.

Rebecca cut the cord after it stopped pulsing - interrupted by Avery peeing on us - and a few minutes later I pushed out the placenta. I had a bit more bleeding than we'd like so I ended up getting a shot of pitocin and some misoprostol. That controlled it. I had a little scrape on the side and a nick at the bottom, but nothing that needed sutures. I probably could have avoided even that if I'd been able ti listen to them about pushing more slowly.

Avery latched on for the first time about 10 minutes after her birth. I ate a bagel and drank about a million gallons of coconut water and Gatorade. I felt fantastic, healthy, on top of the world.  It was so beautiful and I'm so thrilled with my birth team, and how it worked out.

I think my instincts were right on about avoiding the hospital. The tub was such a key factor in avoiding an epidural, and I wouldn't have had it in the hospital. With an epidural we would have had a harder time fixing her position.  Plus the hospital would have pushed augmentation after 16 hours of real contractions only getting me to a 4. With that and all the variables of which OB and which nurses I'd get, the intensity of that last hour, and how much better I was able to relax at home without all the hospital policies - I doubt I would have had a vaginal birth there, much less a completely unmedicated one. I still wish the hospital had been a better bet for a VBAC so I wouldn't have had to take even the slight risk of something going wrong too quickly for us to handle by transporting. Be that as it may, I also very much enjoyed the side benefits of being at home post-birth. It was great to be able to shower in our own shower, then snuggle and sleep in our own bed without the discomforts and constant interruptions of the hospital.

Welcome to ICAN of North Florida's Blog

ICAN of North Florida is a chapter of the International Cesarean Awareness Network serving Florida's First Coast: Jacksonville, St. Augustine, the Beaches, Ponte Vedra, Nocatee, Fernandina, Yulee, Orange Park, Green Cove Springs.  The International Cesarean Awareness Network is a non-profit advocacy and support group whose mission is to improve maternal and child health by preventing unnecessary cesareans through education, provide support for cesarean recovery, and promote vaginal birth after cesarean (VBAC). 

Every year we give support and information to thousands of women through our main office, local chapters, and e-mail support group. We provide impartial information, based on the latest research, which is easy to access for women and their care providers.

Chapter Leader - Kimberly Hellmuth, (904) 237-0451
Chapter Co-Leader -  Candice Young, (904) 294-3113
Chapter E-mail: north.fl@ican-online.org

Meeting Information:
Morning Meetings are held on the 3rd Wednesday of the month at a rotating playground around the Jacksonville area. Please see the events tab on facebook or the calendar for locations. These meetings are child-friendly!

Candice and Kimberly at the Great Cloth Diaper Change 2014
selling baked goods to raise funds for the chapter.