To The Momma Of A Natural Birth/Sully's Story

Props to all the mommas who have given birth the natural way. Natural (i.e. unmedicated) was nowhere in my "plan." But if I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't have it any other way. After it all, I felt a rush of adrenaline. Like, I just did that. Go me! And physically, I felt amazing compared to my first.

I wrongly assumed that because my first child took 12 hours before any progression, the same would apply to my second. Dead wrong. While I labored for almost 10 hours, I was only in active labor for about an hour. That didn't make the earlier contractions any less painful, but it was manageable. Once they become 1-3 minutes apart, I consider that extremely difficult to manage. And mine went from 10 to 3 minutes apart within a matter of 10 minutes. There also was no consistency to my contractions until the last hour and a half.


There's no way to plan for that.

But if you are struggling with a decision of medicated versus unmedicated birth, I want you to know that God designed you for this. Sure, it's going to hurt like hell, and while you are in it, you will have a little - or a lot - of regret for turning down medication. But it will be amazing, and once that baby arrives, you will look and feel 1,001 times better than you would have with medicine. And momma, you will be proud.

Honestly, everyone around me, including myself, seemed terrified. My mom kept apologizing afterward for not getting us to the hospital sooner. We truly thought my son was going to be born in a truck. My husband and daughter missed the whole thing. And the nurses... I don't think that they see a lot of natural births in hospitals anymore because a lot of women do those at home with a midwife... in a big pool of water... Later, a nurse told me that my arrival was the most action anyone had seen in a while. Most mommas opt for medicine, or their deliveries are scheduled. The nurses were incredible and acted fast once they realized the gravity of the situation... but there was some fear in their eyes because they were out of their day-to-day element of medicated, pre-planned births.

Sully was born on March 28, 2015 at 12:26 p.m. And here is his story:

Rule #1: If it feels like labor, it's probably safe to assume that it is labor.

3:30 a.m. - The faintest waves of pressure wake me up. Having struggled with aches and pains of every sort this pregnancy, I am hoping that this is it, but I am not optimistic. After all, my due date is 10 days away. I wake Corey up to tell him anyway. Just. In. Case.

4:00 a.m. - The "waves" haven't stopped. Corey gets up to get some water. I start to get a little excited. Start timing contractions, but there is no rhyme or reason to them whatsoever.

4:30 a.m. - We decide that we might as well start getting stuff ready, including washing all my clothes since, at this point, I am only able to wear a handful of things. Corey begins packing the car. Still, contractions are anywhere between 15 and 25 minutes apart.

5:00 a.m. - We go downstairs to hang out on the couch and watch TV, eat breakfast. My contractions are chaotic, sometimes 10 minutes apart, sometimes 25, sometimes painful, sometimes quick and easy.

6:00 a.m. - Sosie's up. She seems totally unphased by my intermittent moaning while hunched over. After all, she's got more important things to worry about, like being the Flower Girl in her nanny and BFF Brittney's wedding today. We watch some Curious George.

Rule #2: Babies don't wait for weddings. 

7:00 a.m. - My mom is up, and we fill her in. At this point, no one seems at all convinced that I am in labor. I am Googling "false labor" like mad. Nothing seems to help us decide. I try to eat, but whenever I do, I just feel full and nauseous.

8:00 a.m. - Contractions still make no sense, but some begin to get very painful and last longer. Discussions ensue about whether or not I should go to the wedding. And if I don't go, who is going to go with Sosie, and who is going to stay with me? There seems to be markedly more interest in seeing Sosie be a flower girl than participating in my phantom labor.

8:30 a.m. - A few very painful contractions warrant some concern from my mom and husband. The wedding is an hour away. Corey wins the privilege of assisting the Flower Girl. While I should be sad that I will miss seeing said Flower Girl in the wedding, every contraction dissipates any urge to do, well, pretty much anything.

9:30 a.m. - Flower Girl and my husband leave. My mom and I settle in for what we think might be a very long day.

Rule #3: Mothers, husbands, Google AND nurses are not reliable sources when it comes to discerning between true and false labor.

10 a.m. - My contractions become can't-breathe painful. But they are still mostly 15-20 minutes apart. We call my sister and ask which essential oils might help with the pain. I am supposed to rub one on my wrists and just "breathe in" during a contraction. Right.

10:30 a.m. - Call a nurse at the hospital to ask whether or not mine sounds like true or false labor. She tells me that there is no way to know but to just keep timing. I am frustrated and confused. Later, I decide that nurses should be instructed to tell anyone experiencing labor signs to assume that it is REAL!

11:00 a.m. - I take a shower after some very painful contractions. Another one comes while in the shower, so I get out fast. There are no words for this pain. And as if in anticipation of my preparation, my contractions become 8 minutes apart. Just. Like. That.

Rule #4: Don't wait to shower.

11:15 a.m. - Out of shower. Yell for my mom to start throwing things in the car. I am struggling to get dressed, and my hair is soaking wet. My doctor said to wait until contractions are 5 minutes apart before even thinking about heading to the hospital. But this is ridiculous. So I manage downstairs to the living room, halfway dressed, where I've camped out for the morning

11:30 a.m. - Somehow, very carefully, I get clothes on, and after one contraction, I tell my mom to GET. IN. THE. CAR. This triggers panic, and mom now seems to be moving incredibly slow. I am trying to remain calm and not seem as if this is AN EMERGENCY and then there's some discussion about where the keys are, whether or not there are pillows in the car, or the exercise ball, where shoes are, etc.

11:35 a.m. - I reach the bottom of the stairs just near the front door when another contraction hits and they become about 3 minutes apart.

Rule #5: Over-prepare.  If not, there's always Siri.

11:45 a.m. - My mom helps me to my husband's 10-year-old, manual, two-door Tacoma that might as well be a donkey. Ya'll... I believe labor is why profanity was created. My mom hands me a pillow, and says, "Here, scream into this." I am on one butt cheek (somehow this helps?), hanging on to the handlebar above my window, pounding the other into the truck ceiling with every, now 2-minute apart, contraction. And We. Are. Off. The hospital is 15-20 minutes away, depending on traffic. This is when we are both thinking... we may be too late.

11:50 a.m. - I can't think about anything but getting through each contraction, which consists of a lot of screaming and pounding.

11:55 a.m. - I suddenly feel the urge to push, and I think, "No. No. No. No." I can't do this. This can't happen. But, there ain't no way off this train. And my mom is also a little scared at this point and suggests calling the hospital to tell them to get a team down at the front - pronto! Not a bad idea. I am trembling and trying to focus long enough to ask Siri (yay for Siri!) for the hospital's number when I feel a very strong urge and GUSH my water breaks. All over my husband's passenger seat. Heh.

11:57 a.m. - When the nurse answers, I try to explain the severity of the situation, but apparently nurses believe that mommas in labor overestimate their progression. Super calmly and sort of uninterested-like, she says, "Just come upstairs when you get here." ...................................................... WHAT?! There is not way on God's green earth I can even get out of the dang truck unless someone physically yanks me out.

Rule #6: It's perfectly fine to disregard the advice of men while in labor. 

12:00 p.m. - Pull up to the front of the hospital. My mom jumps out of the car and goes inside looking for someone - anyone - to help. The front desk is abandoned. ....... She comes back out and a staff member on break and a paramedic both see her in distress ... and probably hear my screaming. Sheer shrieks. The (male) paramedic comes over to the truck and advises me to "stop screaming because it's not helping" .......  I mean.

12:01 p.m. Screaming continues.

12:05 p.m. - Woman on break has alerted the L&D staff upstairs, and mom locates a wheelchair and both she and the paramedic and the lady on break are trying to coax me into the wheelchair. But I ain't moving..... Until a gang of nurses descends upon the truck and one very seriously looks me straight in the eyes and says," Get out, now." So glad they now understand what's happening. =)

Rule #7: Don't get too attached to your "birth plan." 
12:07 p.m. - I am carefully hoisted in the wheelchair and as we enter the hospital, I ask, "Is it too late for an epidural?" Cue laughter.

12:10 p.m. -  Wheeled into a delivery room, onto a table. There are probably 10 nurses in the room scurrying around like little ants. About four of them are trying to show me how to breathe through the contraction instead of screaming. I finally give in to their request when the doctor arrives.

12:15 p.m. - Doctor is gloved and ready and says to push. I honestly have no idea what I am doing. A natural birth is so different from a medicated one. She says there is going to be a lot of burning.... In addition to the existing pain and immense pressure?!?!? Yes. I can't even cry at this point. I am in shock.

12:17 p.m. - The God-given momma strength takes over and I focus all my energy on pushing and all I can think is push pain push pain push pain push pain. I forget to breathe. But he is coming, I can feel that he is coming and after about 10 minutes of this chin to chest push pain push pain push pain...

12:26 p.m. - This little body just sort of plops out. And immediate relief...

With this, there is still some discomfort to be had. Another urge to push, almost like a contraction, will deliver the placenta. Then, within minutes your body begins coming down off of all the pregnancy hormones, and I couldn't stop shaking. And I was freezing cold. But the doctor still had to stitch me up, for which I needed a local anesthetic delivered by a very big, very long needle. This all took another 10 minutes. But after that, I felt so alive. So proud and happy and energized. So full.

This is what God intended.