When you experience birth trauma, it is difficult to find it within you to do it again. Norah’s birth left me with so much fear and self doubt. I knew I desired to have more children, but I didn’t believe that my body could do it. I felt afraid of a Cesarean. Afraid of an epidural. Afraid of any intervention because of how things had spiraled so quickly before. So this left me with unmedicated childbirth once again seeming like the least frightening option. Since I had a previous Cesarean, I was met with quite a bit of resistance when discussing my desire for a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) with care providers. I had one dr. shrug at me and say “sure you can try…” There was a lack of confidence in my idea. I understood that there was a 1% risk of uterine rupture because I now had scar tissue from my Cesarean incision. But I kept hearing the phrase “high risk” in reference to my pregnancy. I was completely healthy and so was baby.

I worried that my body would “fail” me again. I wrote a letter to the midwife that had helped me so much in my birth with Norah. It was her words that finally gave me the confidence that I could succeed in the birth I so badly wanted. She believed I deserved a trial of labor, and she believed I could do it. At her recommendation, I finally landed on a practice that had the statistics and reputation I was looking for in seeking a VBAC. My pregnancy with Graham was fairly easy, but my heart and spirit needed a lot of work. I took on preparing for my son’s birth like I was training for battle. Everything that I could find to help me prepare, I sign up. I went to a counselor that did EMDR with me to help process the trauma of Norah’s birth. I went to VBAC classes. I hired a doula. My husband and I made lists of fears and expectations to talk through. I exercised and ate healthy, gaining half the weight this time as I had with my daughter. I did accunpuncture. Accupressure. I went to a chiropractor. I listened to hyponobirthing tracks every night before bed time. I bought birth affirmation card and would meditate on them. I read dozens of books and hundreds of positive birth stories. I did positioning techniques and stretches every day. I knew that it was up to me to prepare mentally and physically for what my body was going to do.

My biggest fear was that I was going to go past 40 weeks again. I knew the hospital’s policy and if I went to 42 weeks again, it meant induction. Every morning that I woke up past 40 weeks, I would cry. It felt like my chances were slipping away, because even after all my hard work, I still had little control over the outcome of my birth. I tried all the natural induction methods I knew about. My neighbors thought I was crazy walking up and down the street off and on the curbside. Nine days after my due date I pulled my breast pump out at my doula’s recommendation. After an hour of using it contractions began. I was hopeful this might be it, but I knew I needed sleep so I went to bed.

I contracted through the night but was able to get a good amount of sleep as they were about 30 minutes apart. The next morning I had my next prenatal appointment with my midwife to talk about options. Baby still looked great, but it was time to schedule my induction. In one last act of desperation I asked my midwife to sweep my membranes. It was an uncomfortable experience, but I believe this is what put everything into motion. I left the dr. feeling encouraged and stopped to get a coffee from my favorite spot. It just so happened to be the day they were giving away free coffee- all the stars had aligned.

My in-laws were watching my daughter at my house while my husband and I had gone to the appointment. When we got home they suggested we go for a walk. At this point my contractions had gotten closer together and I was no longer able to talk during them. As our walk went on I became much grumpier. I remember being angry that someone had even suggested I walk at all because it was July and I was a miserable swamp monster. I turned around to go home because things had intensified. It was around lunchtime that I decided to get into the bath tub to see if labor would stick around or keep moving forward. I was so agitated that I told my husband I thought he needed to call our doula. She said she would be there in the next hour, but I was worried I was calling her for nothing as I knew this could possibly go on for a long while.

By the time she arrived, I was no longer questioning whether or not I was in true labor. My husband, doula, and I became a fine tuned machine. She would do a double hip squeeze on me while my Jonathan held up birth cards for me to meditate on. They had essential oils being diffused and my birth playlist was playing. They offered me water every few contractions, and food every hour. They reminded me to empty my bladder every hour and keep changing positions. I found that I liked being on my hands and knees on my bed with my head resting on a pillow. I refused to move from this position for quite awhile. I threw up several times and I remember thinking that was a good sign- things were moving forward.

I became more vocal and started feeling panicked about the next contraction. It became harder to stay present, and I wanted to be done. My moaning had convinced my in-laws to go outside and take Norah for a walk. They were concerned that she might be scared about what was happening with me, so they took her to go play at IKEA. Before they left, she came in to say goodbye. She crawled up on the bed with me and handed me a feather that she had found on her walk. It was from a mourning dove. I had recently complained about these birds as they are extremely loud in the morning and had woken me up the past several days. But today I was so thankful for them. My daughter gave me hugs and kisses and I held on to her token with a renewed strength. That little feather served as a reminder to me of what I was capable of doing for the people that I loved. For my daughter- and for this child I had yet to meet.

I held onto that feather for most of the rest of my labor. I began begging my husband and doula to let me go to the hospital for medication. I couldn’t do this anymore. However- it was now 5:00 in Round Rock, and we needed to drive to Austin. Their argument was that if we left for the hospital then, I would be stuck in rush hour traffic laboring in the car. This somehow reached a logical part of my brain because I believed them and agreed to keep going for another hour. My doula served as an amazing gauge on the progress of my labor, and I am so glad we did not leave earlier. By 6:00 my amazing birth team had loaded the car with everything we needed and finally agreed that we should go to the hospital. I was so thankful just at the idea that my baby might be in my arms soon.

It hurt too badly to sit on the drive to the hospital so I hugged the back of my seat in the car as we drove down Mopac. I would later see selfies that my husband and doula took of themselves posing with me incapacitated in the front. I was started to feel my body bearing down and it felt like I had to push. I knew I didn’t want to resist this urge, but I also knew I didn’t want to have my baby in the car. As we stopped at the front door of the hospital a strong contraction came that caused my whole body to push down. I heard a loud pop and felt my water break all of the front seat of my car. My husband had already opened my door to get me out and just barely missed getting amniotic fluid all over him. (My doula would later come back and clean this ALL up for us while we were in the hospital- she set the standard high with how well she loved us)

As we entered the women’s center I was only halfway aware of my surroundings. Every time a contraction would come I would grab my husband’s hands and fall to a squatting position. This helped me with the bearing down, but I had also gotten extremely loud at this point. I am confident that I traumatized several small children and families on the long elevator ride up to the L&D floor. When we arrived to L&D my poor husband and doula realized that I had forgotten to tell them that when I went into labor we were supposed to call my OB and let her know that labor had begun. So when we arrived at the front desk they had no idea who I was and were not expecting me. It seemed that they did not believe I was really in labor until I had a contraction, and then nurses and doctors seemed to be running around everywhere frantically to get me a room and the things I needed.

When they finally got me a room the doctor that was on call came in to check me. I was disappointed because she was the only one that I had not met during my prenatal visits. When she checked me she discovered that I was dilated to a full 10 centimeters but still had a small lip of my cervix that needed to be thinned out. She told me she was going to try to move it so it wasn’t dangerous for me to push and baby could make his way out. I recall that this was the moment that I accused my doctor of trying to kill me because when she did this, it felt like more than I could handle. I would later find out from my doula that my son was slightly OP (Occiput Posterior), so my doctor was also trying to get him to turn a bit to be born safely. We then entered the second stage of labor which took around 40 minutes. I was really tired of being in labor so I was not wasting any time or energy on pushing- I was all in. I wish now I could go back and tell myself to be more gentle with my body and to take my time. But logic wasn’t really finding it’s way to my brain during those 4o minutes.

I remember my doctor bringing a mirror to show me what my progress but it was too much of a distraction for me. I also remember there being a ton of people in the room as I gave birth to Graham. One of them later told me that she had actually gotten off her shift but had chosen to stay and watch because moms like me were rare and she wanted to see natural childbirth happen. Another one told me that it was moms like me that made being an L&D nurse interesting and exciting. I wish now that I had known how invasive it was to have tons of strangers in the room just watching my most vulnerable moments. That I could have requested they leave so I could have some privacy.

Graham came into the world at 7:35 that evening screaming louder than I could have ever expected. He was so mad to be out of his warm comfortable home- my first clue at this sweet boys temper. My husband got to catch him and cut the cord, which was absolutely incredible that the hospital let him do that. I got to bring him to my chest right away and stare at his sweet face and shockingly red hair. I delivered my placenta and got to see the amazing organ my body had grown to sustain my baby boy. I had a second degree tear and a hematoma from pushing so hard. This made my recovery much harder than I had originally hoped it would be, but I was so thankful that I was able to get up several hours later and shower.

I had done it. I could not believe that I had actually succeeded in the moment I had been training for so long. My husband and I both felt so empowered by what we had just done. My proudest moment was when I signed the mandatory consent form in case of an emergency cesarean while holding Graham in my arms. We found so much redemption in being able to educate ourselves and then fight for the birth that we desired. I truly believe we had such an amazing experience because we eliminated fear’s role in the whole thing. It had no part. We knew my body was doing what it was supposed to and that we were part of something bigger than all of us. And while my son was the one who made the grand entrance, we were all reborn that day. Changed forever by the beauty of new life.

I believe there is power in telling your story. It’s been 4 and a half years now since Norah was born and I am still processing through it. Every time I mull through that experience I discover something new or a piece that I missed. And I believe I continue to learn something every time I share it. I really wish I had had a doula for Norah’s birth. I wish I had been more prepared, more educated. I am so grateful that at the end of those days I got my sweet healthy baby, but there really is much more to it than that. Childbirth doesn’t only birth babies, it births mothers. No matter how childbirth goes, it changes you forever.

I had a fairly easy pregnancy. I read every book/article/blog on Pinterest that was available to me to prepare for childbirth and motherhood. I went into childbirth thinking I would be the exception to all the rules. I wouldn’t have to have emergency intervention. I wouldn’t labor for days. I wouldn’t have postpartum depression. Because I felt I had prepared myself for birth, I was confident my labor was going to be beautiful and just as I hoped. And still, sweet Norah’s arrival into this world completely rock mine.

To start off, Norah was 2 and 1/2 weeks late. This was extremely disappointing to me as it increased my odds of having intervention. It came to the point where my midwife thought we needed to go ahead and induce in order to keep Norah safe. It was Thanksgiving night and I had just gorged myself with stuffing (M.I.S.T.A.K.E) because I knew the hospital wouldn’t let me eat once I was admitted. I was so devastated that we were still having to induce after all this waiting, and then suddenly I started having contractions. I was so excited! I was hopeful we weren’t going to have to induce after all.

We went to the hospital that evening, and the nurses still wanted to use Cervidil to get the process moving along. I refused to let the nurse go ahead and put an i-v line in because I was sure I wasn’t going to need it. My water had broken, but I was only dilated to a 2, so we had a long way to go. Jonathan and I settled in for a night of sleep as I continued to focus through each contraction. I labored all night, with no sleep.

The contractions got more intense and we started trying different methods I had read about. We sat on the birthing ball while Jonathan rubbed my lower back. I layed down with the peanut ball between my legs. I squatted. I walked around the hallway. But every time I felt I found a rythym, it was interupted by some external force. We had a leak in the roof of our room and a maintenance guy had to come in and fix it while I labored. I wish I had known at the time how incredibly invasive this was, and that those kind of interuptions can really disrupt labor.  We made it to the morning, but things were starting to get really hard. The contractions were aggressive, I imagine from the Cervidil, and I was sure that we had to be making progress. My midwife was waiting as long as possible to check me, and I kept thinking the longer I could focus, the further along I would be when she came. The nurses offered me their birthing tub, which they referred to as “the natural Momma’s epidural.” I had been laboring for 20 hours now. Now as a doula I hesitate to say that any mother will enjoy the same thing every time. Before labor I was sure that I would want to be in the bath, but in this case the birth tub felt like a pit of contraction flavored lava. My expectations had been set too high. The water made me feel overheated and more uncomfortable. 22 hours in now, and my midwife finally came to check me. I had progressed. From a 2 to a 2 & 1/2.

I think that a lot of mommas have moments like I did at that point. Where you realize that your child just might live inside you forever. And at that point, it didn’t sound like the worst idea. It’s hard to describe the hopelessness that I felt in that moment. Oh man I cried. How could I have done all this work, endured so much and not progressed more than this? I wish I had known that there is much more to the birth process than dilation. Had my effacement progressed? What was the station of my baby? Knowing these things could have possibly encouraged me enough to keep going. This was the breaking point. Letting go of the completely natural birth I had longed for was very difficult for me. Mom guilt is a real thing, and I have had to process through letting that disappointment go. As an Enneagram 3, I don’t like to “fail”. And that’s what it felt like-my body failed me. Jonathan had been instructed to not let me have medication, as many mothers so bravely command I’m sure. I’m also sure it was difficult for him to go ahead and give into his pleading wife, but he graciously did and in that moment I was so glad. I wasn’t ready to do the epidural, so I took the lighter option of fentanyl. This is a narcotic used to treat pain, and I liked this option because I wouldn’t lose feeling in my lower half. They put me in bed and went ahead and put in the i-v. After four tries, they finally got it in. (I regretted not letting them put it in before I was contracting so regularly). Isn’t it interesting how contractions can put things into perspective? Normally the i-v experience would have been extremely traumatic, but in the light of contractions it was trivial. I was in labor land. They gave me a little button to push that would administer more medicine if I needed it (not an open bar I guess). I was so glad that relief was finally on the way. Unfortunately they might as well have thrown the medication at me. It would have maybe been more effective.

As many times as I pushed that button, the medication continued to have no affect on me. It was now around 10:00 pm, I had been laboring for over 24 hours, the medications weren’t helping to relieve my discomfort, and I was stuck in bed not able to move around. I was so tired that I felt I could not go on. It’s amazing how pain and sleep deprivation can make you abandon your belief system. I believe that each mother has a turning point at which to call it, and this was mine. The anesthesia team came in and I remember being so tired and the contractions were so painful that I didn’t really care that they were about to put a needle in my back. The lady got it in just fine, and immediately it was glorious. The sweetest nectar of life giving numbness. At this point I had progressed to what felt like an insulting three. But I didn’t care, that epidural finally allowed me to rest. For so long I beat myself up for not progressing more. Now having received my doula education, I can see that it makes sense that my body didn’t exactly feel relaxed or safe at the hospital. That a very nature process was rushed and put on a time clock. My midwife decided that it was time for pitocin, because my water had been broken for too long and I wasn’t making progress. -Several years later I would learn that this was the actual reason for my Cesarean, not an emergency. Failure to progress. Surely with pitocin’s help I would get to meet my girl soon. With my epidural in, I finally got to go to sleep.

At around 2:30 AM I awoke to a new level of pain I had not yet experienced. It was sharper and more hostile. It seemed like my body’s natural reaction to trying to survive this pain was just to writhe. I just knew my little girl had to be close, but it didn’t seem normal for me to be feeling so much. We called the nurse in and she said that I shouldn’t be feeling anything, but let me just say that there was much to be felt. Turns out my epidural had stopped working. Did you know that was a thing? In all my reading I had not learned that different people metabolize medication differently. That sometimes they just don’t work. I was taken by surprise with this new level of pain, and that was because I had made it to a 6! So what did we do? Epidural #2! That’s right, out with the old and in with the new. This one was more unpleasant as there was a far greater sense of urgency I felt with each contraction. Desperation. They got it in, and the flood of bliss arrived again and I easily drifted to sleep. They were monitoring Norah’s heartbeat because it kept slowing down due to the pitocin, and eventually had to stop it. All I hoped was that I would soon get to see my sweet girl’s face.

I woke up around 8:00 am. This awakening was one of panic. My epidural had stopped working again, but I was at a 9 this time. I didn’t know what to do with this amount of pain except cry out every time it came about. It seemed as though I was going to get to do the unmedicated birth I had so longed for. As my midwife checked me, she realized that my cervix was swollen and it was preventing Norah from being able to drop down as low as she needed to. Since I was stuck to my bed because of the epidural I was not able to change positioning to help my baby get to where she needed to be. My water had been broken for 36 hours now and the hospital’s “policies” said that my girl was at risk because of the possibility of infection. My midwife said she thought it was time for an emergency c-section, and we couldn’t argue. We thought her life was at risk, and did what any parent would do.

My midwife alerted anesthesia that they were needed for the operation. Unfortunately, our hospital only had one anesthesia team, and they were previously occupied with another patient. This meant we had to wait. Looking back now, I wish I had advocated for myself more. Put two and two together that if a cesarean is actually an emergency, you don’t wait an hour for anesthesia. Since we were waiting to have the c-section, I was told to not push, but just wait. I was fully dilated and my body was bearing down but I wasn’t allowed to push. At this point I was seriously convinced I was going to die. It sounds humorous now, but I think more families experience this fear than we realize. The screaming and writhing had reached such a level that someone on staff deemed me worthy of needing a chaplain to be sent in. That poor woman was praying for me as I sobbed. Her beautiful prayer would get faster and faster as each contraction came on. Bless. Bless her sweet little heart.

The surgeon who would be operating on me came in to check my status. He just so happened to be extremely handsome. Go figure. Just what you want when you have lost all dignity. When he checked me, he thought the swelling had gone down and Norah had dropped down further. He casually threw out that he thought I could go ahead and have this baby, and suggested I try pushing while we waited for anesthesia. Hope returned that maybe I could do it, I could have her safely and vaginally, and so I started to push. Turns out that contractions hurt much more when your body is ready to push out baby and you have to try to hold the baby in. Who woulda thought? Pushing actually felt like a relief and my husband, midwife and nurses were such great encouragers. I got to push for an hour, but the progress I was making was minimal. After waiting for an hour, the anesthesia finally arrived. The surgeon said that I could try to keep pushing, but there was a lot of meconium present which he felt wasn’t a good sign. If I opted to keep trying, we would lose the anesthesia team and have to wait again if I changed my mind. This was such a difficult decision to make without all the information. I didn’t know what questions to ask and I didn’t have a support team reminding me that I could always say no. My poor husband also had not slept for two days and we were both past our limit.

They started prepping the OR and I was once again set with the task of waiting. My sweet husband was so wonderful at reminding me I wasn’t dying and that I could do this, but I was so afraid of having to experience another contraction that I didn’t believe anything he said. Fear really can convince you of some things in childbirth. I became more and more desperate for them to save Norah’s life and I’m pretty sure I begged everyone to do that as well. They finally came to take me to the OR and all my standards and expectations were gone. I just wanted to get my girl out safe and meet her.

They took my epidural out to replace it with the spinal tap. That was very intense. I immediately lost feeling in everything. The pain relief was nice, but I didn’t like the complete numbness. I couldn’t feel my face or lips, so as Jonathan was talking to me I couldn’t really respond. I heard the surgeon reprimanding my midwife for letting me try for a vaginal birth for so long. His condescending comments put my central nervous system even more on alert. I now wish that I had attained the confidence to tell him that his comments were inappropriate to share in front of me, and that his only remarks should have been ones of encouragement towards his frightened patient. The next thing I knew, I heard someone say look at all that blonde hair! Followed by the sweetest sound of my life, Norah’s first cry. Her cry made me come to a bit so I was more aware of things when they brought her to me. And she was perfect.

I have a dear friend who has made incredible changes to the Kerrville hospital c-section procedures. She worked hard to get the hospital there to implement something called the family centered cesarean. This meant that after the doctors got Norah out safely, instead of taking her away, they gave her to me for skin on skin contact. I got to hold Norah immediately and gaze into her steely blue eyes. It was worth it, all the pain, fear, suffering. She was worth it.

Unfortunately as they began to sew me up, I started feeling pain in my abdomen. Turns out my body is just a tad resistant to anesthesia. Good to know for future endeavors. The same way that pain puts things into perspective, so does love. Normally I probably would have minded being able to feel my body being sewn back up, but Norah made it seem not so bad. Once she was there in my arms, none of the other stuff that we had just been through seemed to matter in the moment. We chose Norah because it means light. And she is such a light to the world.

To those Mamas who deal with disappointment from their birth experience: you are a great mom. You are worthy of love and respect. Let yourself off the hook for things not going the way you had hoped. Birth is such wild unpredictable experience, and we can never really control all its components. We must take these experiences and let them make us stronger. To remind us of what we can endure, specifically as mothers. Find a healthy way to process the thoughts and feelings you associate with a disappointing experience. Find a support group or local counselor so you don’t carry the weight of it alone. I went to counseling to move past some of the trauma from Norah’s birth. I did EMDR. I found other mothers like me to talk to about it. When I finally faced the trauma I carried with me from those days, I finally found freedom from it. Which allowed me to reclaim my strength and bring my power into another birth experience.

Birth will change you forever. Norah’s birth lit a fire inside me to help empower and educate other women to advocate for themselves in birth. And to help other women do the necessary work to bring their babies earth side peacefully, no matter the setting. And for that I will always be grateful.