As any VBAC birth story must, Zachary's birth story begins with his sister's birth, 21 months prior. Zoe was a breech baby throughout our pregnancy, and no amount of Eastern or Western medicine, plus a little bit of Internet knowledge thrown in for good measure, was going to make her change her mind. (Note to self, lying upside down on an ironing board at a 45 degree angle, not so easy.) If Zoe had been a frank breech, it would have presented few problems for our wonderful midwife who had delivered many breech babies. Zoe was a footling breech, which caused us enough concern that, after repeated attempts to turn her, we chose to have a c-section with the OB our midwife referred us to. As he was sewing up my incision, the surgeon was assuring me that I should have no trouble having a vaginal birth the next time, and he was doing his part to be sure with the type of incision he did and the way he was sewing me up.
Thanks to my outstanding prenatal care and a superb surgeon, the surgery and recovery came off with no problems. I was home in 2 days and feeling good. The main issue was that my body did such a good job healing me from the c-section, there was nothing left to produce milk. Hence, breastfeeding was a struggle for the first 6-8 weeks. Again, with the help of our midwife, we got that figured out and we settled into our life.
Fast forward 12 months and we discover baby #2 is on the way. After much research and discussion with our same midwife, we again committed to a planned home birth.
The pregnancy that was to be Zachary was smooth sailing. The only procedure we had done was an ultrasound at the beginning because we had no idea when we became pregnant. Gosh, we were 12 weeks along by then, so we didn't even have to wait to tell people.
My in-laws were staying with us in our new house on the night before what would be Zachary's birthday. In my quest to be their favorite daughter-in-law, not only did I have their first grandchild while they were visiting us from Vermont, I was going to have their second grandchild while they were in town visiting as well.
I talked to my friend, Gina, at 9 p.m. on April 23. "Go to bed," I told her. “It isn't going to happen tonight.”
Gina was going to make a 4 hour drive to be with us once I went into labor. Having four children of her own, this was no small favor. After talking to her, I went in to sleep with Zoe and dozed off. Around 11 p.m., I woke up, very uncomfortable. I woke up Chris, and asked him to go lay with Zoe so I could be moving around. For some reason it was critical to me that Zoe not be alone, even though she was asleep. I guess I realized this would be her last night as an only child, and I didn't want her to feel like the new baby was taking us away already.
Until 3:30 a.m. I shuffled back and forth from our bed to the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet was the only comfortable position I could find when the contractions came over me. After a contraction passed, I would make my way back to bed, where I would lay down on top of the covers to sleep for 3-4 minutes until I felt the next contraction coming on.
At 3:30 I had had enough of doing this alone. I woke Chris up, again, asked him to get his parents up and tell them to pack up their stuff because they were going to need to get out. (I was getting a wee bit testy by this time.) His parents had known this was a possibility, and since my parents live 1/4 mile away, they had another warm, inviting home they could head to, with Zoe, to pass the time until they got to meet the latest addition. I also asked Chris to call our midwife. She has 6 children, and her husband was out of town this weekend, so we knew it might take her a little time to get things organized so she could get to us.
I passed the time by taking a shower and sitting on the birth ball, walking around the house, and asking Chris why the heck his parents weren't already gone. I had very strong urges to vocalize my way through contractions, and I wasn't totally comfortable doing that with the extra people in the house. Plus, a few curse words were coming to my mind, and I didn't want Zoe to hear them.
Just as the house emptied of our house guests, our midwife arrived. Her two nurses came soon after that, and Gina made it around 7 a.m. Everyone was comfortable and friendly and so amazingly supportive. I was very much in a faraway place, though I was aware of what everyone said to me. Our midwife, was making suggestions on position, encouraging me to drink, and keep moving. I spent a lot of time squatting, moaning, talking to the baby, encouraging it to work its way down, and walking around. Soaking in our sunken tub was a tremendous respite. I was able to relax enough between contractions to fall asleep. Then I realized I was slipping under the water as I fell asleep, so I asked Chris, who was sitting on the end of the tub READING A MAGAZINE if he could keep an eye on me so I didn't drown. He agreed.
Being in the tub felt fantastic, but it also slowed my contractions, so our birthing team set up the birthing chair as I began the quest to push the baby out. My memory of the pushing phase is rather odd. It seemed like a lot of time was spent waiting for each contraction to come, then working my way through it, then waiting again. It was very hard to give myself up to the pain and do things that would make the contractions harder, stronger, and more frequent. To make yourself do something for the greater good isn't easy, even when you recognize the reason for it. Our midwife wanted to see stronger labor patterns, so I began to use the breast pump to up the hormone support in my system. She also had me getting up and swaying between contractions to use gravity to my advantage.
Gina was faithfully videotaping for us and trading off with Chris as the person sitting behind me and supporting me as I leaned back for contractions. Having a female friend there who has also given birth was really a huge factor for me.
On the video of all of this, there are some classic moments where people are talking to me, I respond, and then everyone laughs like I've just said the funniest thing in the world. For example, our midwife says as I am sitting on the birthing stool, taking my hand and guiding it, "Here's your baby's head. Can you feel that?" "No," I respond, thinking to myself, if this baby's head is that squishy, that surely can't be good. Another precious memory is the midwife and the two nurses constantly encouraging me, telling me "that was a great contraction, the baby's really moving down now." The other three of us, who don't attend births on a regular basis, began to feel that these were actually fibs and that this baby wasn't really going to be born.
Despite all this, I never once doubted that I would succeed at having this baby at home. And I never once thought of needing pain relief. It hurt, but it wasn't a bad pain, and it was manageable.
Finally we were almost there, and since I wanted a water birth, now was the time to move back to the tub. Chris climbed in with me in his swimming suit, two pushes, and out came Zachary. I was so suprised he was finally here after pushing for over 2 hours, our midwife had to say, "Reach down and pick up your baby." There he was.
Zachary needed some oxygen to perk him up after his exhausting journey, but less than an hour after he was born, he and Zoe and I were back soaking in the tub, relaxing together. Shortly after that he met all his grandparents who were all thrilled to be present, and then we had a family nap.
I needed a few stitches for a mild tear, but other than that there were no problems. I completed a sprint distance triathlon 11 weeks later, and I will forever be grateful that we chose to have Zachary at home. It was an amazing experience, surrounded by amazing people.
