When I became pregnant for the first time, I really thought I was well informed. I read the pregnancy books, watched the documentaries; I exercised, I ate a healthy diet. Every doctor’s appointment, I came prepared with questions. The pregnancy was smooth sailing – until I failed my glucose screening at 26 weeks. After that, everything changed. I attended a class that taught me carb counting and how to prick my fingers for a blood sugar reading three times daily. I followed the diabetes diet to a T and religiously kept a food and blood sugar diary. Not once did I record a high blood sugar number or experience any indication that the condition was interfering with my pregnancy or the growth of our baby. Even though all seemed well, as my due date approached, the talk of intervention and induction increased.  When I had a high blood pressure reading at 36 weeks, my doctor immediately recommended scheduling an induction for the following week (when my baby would be deemed ‘full term’) because hypertension combined with gestational diabetes was too dangerous. I opted instead to monitor my blood pressure for a week and make the decision at the next appointment. My following blood pressure reading was normal, and the induction was cancelled. Two weeks later and two days past my due date, my provider explained to me the risks of continuing a pregnancy ‘overdue’ with gestational diabetes. My baby was too big. GD caused her head and shoulders grow too large, and if I didn’t jump start things now, I’d likely have to schedule a caesarean. I was terrified. I agreed to an induction just two days later, at 40 + 4.

I was given Cytotec and Pitocin, and labored on my back in a hospital bed through excruciating contractions – one after another after another – with no relief in between. I felt like I was going to die. When I was dilated enough for the epidural, I took it. Happily. After that, I slept. My water was broken at some point, and once I was fully dilated, Stephen held one numb thigh while my mother held the other, and I was coached through pushing by a nurse because I could feel nothing. By the time my doctor arrived, it was clear my efforts weren’t enough, and Nadia stalled in the birth canal. Most of this is hazy to me. I wasn’t fully aware there was a problem, and no one informed me of anything that was happening, other than “We need to get this baby out now.” It wasn’t until after Nadia was born that I learned my doctor had performed and episiotomy and used a vacuum to pull her out of me. She was thrust into my arms, the cord clamped and cut, then immediately whisked away for examination. I was completely out of it. The doctor pulled my placenta, stitched me up, congratulated me, and left. When Nadia was finally given back to me, she had a large purple and blue suction mark on her cone-shaped skull where she’d been extracted (that later scabbed and faded away). She was perfectly healthy, weighing 8lbs 9oz. with no blood sugar issues or gestational diabetes ‘side effects.’ I was exhausted and heavily medicated. I slept most of the first day, and left the hospital in a ton of pain from my episiotomy. The recovery was long, but in the end, I was grateful for a healthy baby and confident that I’d made the right decision with my healthcare provider to induce.

About a year and a half later, I realized I hadn’t had a period in a while. I wasn’t overly concerned, because after breastfeeding Nadia, my cycle had just returned and was prone to irregularities anyway. When I finally took a home test – and then 6 more – all reading positive, I was in complete denial. There was NO way! I just got my period back! We weren’t trying! We were being careful! Apparently we’re very fertile in the Spring, because an ultrasound confirmed baby #2 was on the way, with an estimated due date just one week before Nadia’s second birthday.

The first thing I decided to do was start conversations with friends and acquaintances I knew who had experienced natural birth or who were pregnant and planning a natural birth. This led me to online support groups, forums, meetings, all promoting birthing without fear and without intervention. I dove in head first and read every birth story I could find. I researched home births, doulas, and fear tactics employed by hospitals and doctors to scare pregnant mothers into interventions for convenience.

When I made the decision to switch from my OBGYN to a certified nurse midwife who I had researched for weeks, I was well into my second trimester. Choosing to continue my prenatal care with Wendy Shaw was probably the best decision I made for myself and my daughter. I instantly felt at ease and trusted her 100%. My doctor’s appointments never felt clinical; seeing Wendy was like talking to (or sometimes crying to, lol) a supportive friend. My research and new circle of like-minded mamas also led me to a Chiropractor for the first time in my life who adjusted me weekly and bi-weekly from the second trimester up until the days before labor. I even decided to hire a doula to encapsulate my placenta following birth to help with the postpartum period. As my knowledge grew, so did my confidence. And so did the realization that my first born had been unnecessarily and prematurely sucked out of me against her will. She wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready. But this time around, I was determined to have a different experience.

A few days before my due date, a friend and photography client who also happened to be pregnant went into labor. I’d asked her if I could photograph the birth as long (as I didn’t go into labor first!) and she welcomed the offer, especially because her husband is in the military and wouldn’t be able to attend. Watching her labor with her mother and doula by her side was such an incredible experience. Five hours after I arrived at the hospital, I watched as she welcomed her second daughter into the world naturally. Being able to witness in person everything I’d been reading about for weeks was the final affirmation I needed. I wanted the same for myself and my daughter.

At my 40 week appointment, I presented Wendy with our written birth plan (something that never even occurred to me the first time around) which we’d discussed verbally at length throughout the pregnancy. Sitting down and typing, then holding it in my hands, was a really empowering moment for me. I also mentioned being past my due date, to which she replied was not until January 6.  Apparently I’d been calculating my pregnancy based on the early estimated due date my original OBGYN provided, and Wendy’s office had estimated it to be a few days later. This put me at ease and I no longer felt the need to ‘get things going’ by gorging on pineapple or walking for miles. I took the next couple of days really easy, and tried to enjoy the last few moments with Nadia. Just the two of us.

Two days before Nora’s due date, I woke up at 2:16 a.m. with a contraction. I was SO excited. This was it. I was finally experiencing spontaneous labor. I woke up Stephen and let him know that I thought this might be it, then I got in the shower. By the time I got out, the contraction pain had faded, and I was back to regular Braxton Hicks. I decided to go back to bed, knowing I would wake up again if things intensified. They never did. The next day I mostly hung around the house, finishing laundry and scheduling appointments. My mom and I worked out logistics for Nadia when labor started. Stephen made me a quesadilla, and I went to bed.

At 3:16 a.m. on the morning of Nora’s due date, I woke up with the same contraction pain as the night before. Dubious this time around, I decided not to wake Stephen, and again headed for the shower. But sure enough, the contraction waves stuck around. Regular and increasing slowly in intensity. I knew there was still plenty of time, so for the next hour, I leisurely finished packing and applied a full face of make up in between contractions. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it was so relaxing and calming (and a tip I picked up from my chiropractor!). At 4:45 a.m. the contractions started to get sharper, and I timed them roughly 3 minutes apart. I decided to call Wendy. She told me to listen to my body and continue to labor at home until I couldn’t speak through them. When I was ready, I could go to the hospital and have the nurses check me. I woke Stephen up, then called my mom to come over and stay with Nadia who was still asleep. While waiting, I continued manically tidying the house, moving and walking non-stop. Contractions kept coming stronger and stronger, and I had to start moaning and breathing deeply to get through them. My moaning woke up Nadia, so she ate cheerios and watched me labor (which she deemed ‘boring’). My mom arrived shortly after, and Stephen hopped in the shower.

By 5:45 a.m. I was in serious pain. I burst into the shower and told Stephen we needed to leave, NOW. The car ride was brutal. Severe contractions so close together. I thought for sure when we got there I would be at least 5-6 cm dilated. When the nurse showed us to the room, I undressed and she checked me. 3 cm. I was devastated. I knew right then – there was no way I could labor for hours like this. I panicked, completely. The moaning and breathing quickly escalated to screaming. I couldn’t find a comfortable position on the bed, and I wanted nothing to do with the birthing ball I’d insisted on bringing. When my water broke and it was a dark green color, I knew there was meconium in my fluid. I lost it. Convinced Nora wouldn’t be able to breathe on arrival, my anxiety completely took over. I informed the nurses that I could NOT do this, I was crazy for trying, and I wanted my epidural, NOW. They mostly ignored me, coming in and out to check baby’s heartbeat and my blood pressure, while I continued to scream “please, please, please.” Eventually, one of the nurses held my hands, looked me in the eyes, and said “You can do this” to which I replied “No. I. can’t. I really can’t.” They kept telling me to breathe through it and stop losing control. I told them I didn’t know how. I was enveloped in a total panic attack – experiencing the most excruciating pain of my life, cursing myself for attempting this naturally without taking a breathing class. WHY hadn’t I ordered hypnobirthing? WHY didn’t I hire a doula? WHAT was I thinking? I kept asking for the epidural, and they continued to placate me. “Oh, we’re just waiting for your lab work”  and “You still need two bags of fluid before we can call the anesthesiologist.” I begged them to give me something, anything. I was given a pain reliever (I don’t know what it was) but felt zero difference or relief. (Stephen is convinced this was a placebo, haha).

Eventually, under the delirious impression that my magical epidural was just around the corner, I was able to muster a shred of composure, and developed a rhythm of coping with the pain. As each wave approached, I stood and leaned completely into Stephen while squatting slightly and swaying back and forth, moaning gutturally. The nurse checked me a second time, and in those 45 minutes, I’d dilated to a 7. She told me Wendy was on her way and that things were moving very quickly, but I was almost there.

When Wendy walked in, I felt calmer instantly. The entire demeanor of the room changed as soon as she spoke. She dimmed the lights, rubbed my back, and just stayed with me. I started to feel tons of pressure and couldn’t stand up any longer. She told me to do whatever felt comfortable. I climbed into the bed, got on my knees, and draped my upper body over the head of the bed, letting my arms dangle and burying my head into the pillow I’d brought from home. It smelled like lavender, Stephen, and Nadia. As each contraction built, I rose to my hands and knees and rocked backward and forward, imagining I was at home. Imagining Nora’s face. Wendy calmly told me to stop fighting my body and give in. With each contraction, I felt Nora moving lower and lower. “Bear down into it” Wendy said, and almost involuntarily, my body obliged. I squatted deeply into each wave. I knew this was it. I knew three pushes and she’s here. Wendy felt her head, and that gave me the last burst of energy and motivation I needed. I remember saying “Wendy, I just want her out,” and she said “then push.”

I knew I was crowning, but I didn’t feel the ‘ring of fire’ I’d read so much about. I was in pain, but knowing meeting Nora was so close got me through. I delivered her head, and heard Wendy suction her nose. I asked if she was okay (still worried about the meconium) and she said she was fine. The next contraction, she was out! Wendy said “catch your baby” and passed Nora between my legs underneath me, and I sat up on my knees and held her against my chest. Immediately, I burst out laughing. I can’t explain the surge of endorphins. It was beyond amazing. She was so, so beautiful. Exhausted, I rolled over onto my back and held her skin-to-skin until her cord stopped pulsing. Wendy allowed my placenta to deliver naturally, and let me know there was no tearing and zero stitching required. Nora was examined right in my arms, and we nursed. I was up walking and showered shortly after. It was incredible. I felt so energized and HAPPY. I remember just grinning at Stephen, saying “we did it!”

A grand total of 4 hours from start to finish, it was truly the most empowering experience of my life.

Naturally, I took lots of pictures 🙂