DISCLAIMER: Birth story ahead. And I'm keeping it real. Because I've lost all sense of shame. You've been warned.
So here I am. 41 weeks pregnant. Being 41 weeks pregnant in today's day and age is the equivalent of being like a modern day leper. People look at you like they're terrified you may actually explode at any moment. As if they can catch pregnancy from you. I can't even tell you the number of times I heard, "I can't believe they haven't induced you yet!" Here's the deal: when you're a VBAC, most doctors will not induce you or augment your labor because it increases your risk of uterine rupture (you're welcome...store that one away for later). Which is totally fine by me because I wanted to go into labor on my own anyway. I got so many phone calls and texts that week asking if I was in labor that is was ridiculous. It probably didn't help that I alarmed everyone at the beginning of the week thinking I was in labor. Fact: Braxton hicks contractions are not the same as real ones. At. ALLLLLL.
So again, here I was, 41 weeks pregnant and pretty convinced that I would in fact be pregnant forever. And ever. Amen. Here's the deal: my OB was giving me until 41 weeks before we talked about the possibility of another csection. So my options were either: go into labor on your own in the appropriate amount of time or have major surgery. No pressure. I met with her the day before I went into labor (Thursday) and we had tentatively put in the books that if MA didn't come by Monday, she was scheduling a section for Tuesday. I felt like such a failure. I mean, obviously I knew that my body was preparing for labor. I had been having contractions on and off all week, walking every dang day, drinking red raspberry tea like it was my job, and doing any other activity that is believed to induce labor...whatever that may be... ;). So she checks me, I'm 2 cm, 60% effaced and she strips my membranes, you know, for good measure.
So cut to Friday, August 8th. It's around 3 am and I start having contractions. Real, honest to goodness contractions. I've never been so pumped to be in pain in all my life! I had prepared myself that this labor would probably be a while because VBACs typically are, so I tried to go back to sleep until it was time to go to the hospital. Well, that didn't really happen. They were coming about every 10 minutes and lasting around a minute or so. That went on until about 430-5 am. At that point they went to 4-5 minutes apart, still lasting the same amount of time. And did I mention that they sucked?! Because they did. I had been in touch with my doula (who by the way had a VBAC of her own and had assisted on several herself), who was talking us through things, but really at this point it was best to keep waiting. I felt like we might be going sooner than later, though, so I told Ben to get the rest of his stuff together. Ya know, just in case. Laying down wasn't comfortable at that point so I decided to get up and move around. Well that sent my contractions to about 2-3 minutes apart, BUT they got shorter (only lasting 30-45 seconds) which is not ideal. The doula had mentioned this might happen--with having a scar on my uterus, it was somewhat aggrivated so I needed to calm it (and myself, hellllllo) down, so she suggest getting a shower. Which I did. Which did not help. So I got out. It was around 630-700 at this point. Meanwhile, my sweet mother is in Mobile FREAKING out because I haven't gone to the hospital yet. Relax, I tell her. This is your second baby, she reminds me. They come faster, she scolds. I'm not a typical second baby haver, Mom. You know nothing, I say arrogantly. (Disclaimer: Your mother is always right)
So contractions are still 2-3 minutes apart, unbelievably intense, but still super short. We have all our stuff in the car and ready, and in my head I'm thinking heeeey, we should probably go, but I didn't want to have to be hooked up to monitors all day long and feel like a failure when thing a weren't progressing as they should, so we decided to wait just a little bit longer. I was miserable, but I basically decided that I am weak and can't actually handle labor because I was probably nowhere close to being able to deliver. So I decide to lay back down. It is now around 7:25. This slowed my contractions back down to 4-5 minutes and made them longer again. I was having some pretty intense back labor so I decided to get on my hands and knees to relieve the pressure when IT GOT REAL. I hear a pop. A gush of fluid. My. Water. BROKE. I run to the bathroom. So much water, so much blood. It was time to GO. Ben calls his sweet sister Kellee to come watch Oliver (who by God's grace was STILL sleeping), while I stand in the bathroom leaking all the things and screaming like a banshee. He got everything sorted, made sure car seats were in the appropriate place, and basically was the portrait of the calm and patient husband.
So Kellee gets there and I am trying to not let her see me because she herself is about to have a baby in a couple of months and I didn't want to traumatize her with the yelling and screaming and crying that I was doing, so I go out into my carport and wait by the van for my husband. It is now around 7:45-7:55. There is an intermediate school behind our house. CHILDREN and their parents are walking to school, meanwhile I am hanging on to the door frame of my van screaming and traumatizing them all for life. I owe them all counseling. Oy.
So Ben comes out with the keys ready to go. I am crying saying that I CANNOT sit down, there is no way, so he says to just get on my knees and ride backwards in the front seat. Safe. So I do. He calls the doula, the hospital, and my mother to let them all know we are on our way. Meanwhile, I am screaming in the background, so much so that my mother thought I had actually given birth in the car and had a full on meltdown in front of one of her faculty members, because OH YEAH did I mention it was the second day of school and we were leaving during school hours. Brilliant.
So the drive there was insanity. I didn't actually see any of it as I was riding backwards and acting like a crazy woman (I was not the portrait of the calm laboring mother...bless), but I felt it. We live about 20 minutes from the hospital. Ben made it in 10. He was driving on the wrong side of the road, honking his horn, flashing his lights, running lights, going 70 miles an hour at some points through Mountain Brook all the whole reassuring me I was doing a great job. AND STAYING SO RIDICULOUSLY CALM. Seriously, he deserves a medal. If he had a go pro camera, our ride would definitely have put that Texas woman's ride to shame. It was complete organized chaos. All the while I am feeling the urge to push something FIERCE and repeatedly told my husband that, "I am going to poop! I am going to poop all over this van, oh my gaaaaaah!" He told me go ahead, we'll get the van detailed later. God. Bless. Us. Everyone.
We arrive at the hospital around 8:15. Ben runs out of the car, leaving the doors open and it running, telling that he needs a wheelchair. No one was really rushing to his aid, so he yells, "No, seriously, my wife is about to have a baby like now. I need a wheelchair!" I tell whoever had the wheelchair that I physically cannot sit down and I'm going to have to ride on this thing backwards. She says I can't do that. I said I'll hold on tight. I wish I could paint a picture for you all how not myself I was. It was almost like I had turned into some kind of crazy animal. They rush me in the room and everything after that was a blur. They threw me on a bed, changed my clothes for me (oh the shame), checked me and told me I was complete and ready to go. There was no time for medication. That ship had sailed. **Side note: I had not fully committed to whether or not I wanted an epidural. I knew I wanted to wait as long as I could without one, but I suppose The Lord was giving me what He thought was best.** Ben asked the nurses if he could go move the van really quick. They said if you run. YIKES. He and the doula get back in at about the same time. There are needles flying everywhere, I am pushing, everyone is seeing my everything, and then all of a sudden my sweet girl is out and on my chest, beautiful and healthy and crying. Four pushes and she was here. At 8:30 am. Sweet goodness.
It was the most intense moment of my life. Ever. We had been praying so hard for a quick labor with minimal intervention and that is exactly what The Lord gave us. We saw the power of prayer truly at work. So many people were covering us in prayer and it was evident. God's hand was there guiding every single step of the way. It was scary and awesome and wonderful all at the same time. I felt so alive. I had just gone through something so emotionally and physically draining, and I felt like I could run a marathon right then and there. It was such a rush and such a high.
So that was it. Five and a half hours of labor and a 28 hour hospital stay and we were home with our sweet baby girl. Come to find out I am not a typical VBAC case. I guess since my body had experience labor already it kind of already knew what it was doing and was ready to go. My mother has finally decided to forgive me for "making her embarrass herself in front of God and everyone" and we are all adjusting nicely to our new little family of four. My recovery was been so much easier than last time. Insanely easy. I mean, I was still in pain, but it beats the heck out of having your stomach cut open. Our sweet girl has only been here with us four short weeks, but I can't even imagine our family now without her. We are blessed. We thank God everyday for two healthy and beautiful babies.
