Prior to kiddo number six, I recounted the birth stories of all my children. If L&D is your thang, then feel free to dive into the rabbit hole. If not, scroll on down. Just know that with this birth story, I share a whole lotta my heart. Don’t worry, I don’t go all TMI on you. That story is over margaritas. It’s long, so grab a cup ‘o Joe.
This one? This birth story is for any mom who’s ever wondered if she can have another baby, do birth again after a NICU stay, deliver naturally or attempt a VBAC. This birth taught me to let it all go (don’t you dare make me sing Frozen).
Baby #1: Will
Baby #2: John Paul
Baby #3: Anna-Laura
Baby #4: Clare
Baby #5: Luke
Y’all all know how anxious I was about the delivery with this one. Remember how I obsessed and then my water levels went all wonky? I decided to go social media silent that last week because the pressure was JUST TOO MUCH. As it turns out, not only was that a good thing, but the extra six days past my due date ended up being a tremendous blessing. Although I will be the first to tell you they didn’t feel that way until later. Hindsight. It always bites you in the hiney.
I visited my OB the day before my due date and then three days later; both times she stripped my membranes (didn’t I say I wasn’t doing that again?) and we prayed for some action. Both times we got nada. At my second visit I was desperate and asked her what other options we had besides the c-section to induce labor. After a quick moment she recommended breaking my water instead of sending me directly to the OR. We knew that it couldn’t hurt and perhaps, just maybe, it might get labor going. I kept that information close and we decided to only share it with immediate family. Another reason why I went radio silent.
That weekend I was overdue, I enjoyed a fantastic four-game baseball tournament with our second son and saw him do some stellar pitching. So stellar, that he was awarded MVP. We went for ice cream as a family every single night. On the walk back home from one such evening, a pretty amazing conversation ensued with my oldest about NFP (natural family planning), IVF, the dignity of the human person and why the Catholic Church thinks sex is good. I know. I am marking it as one of my most tender moments as a mom. And, to think that wouldn’t have happened had Gianna come early!
But, lest you think I’m all pious, Monday morning rolled around and I was fed up. Why the {bleep} hadn’t I gone into labor? As I was whining about it to Scott, I muttered I just needed a good cry. So at 6:45am, I waddled into the closet, got down on my knees and just let it all out. Y’all know that ugly cry. Ten minutes later I was back to ordering kids around at breakfast and went about my day. That evening, Scott massaged my feet, we talked baby names and I got the hospital bag packed. For the 48th time. At midnight we finally called it quits and tried to get some sleep.
At 3am, HELLO CONTRACTIONS. God is super de-duper funny. At 3:45, I finally nudged Scott awake and told him we might be heading to the hospital early. I was scheduled to report at 6am for the membrane rupture. There was no way I was delivering without taking a shower first. Vanity, I know. At 4am, the contractions promptly stopped just as I stepped out of the shower. Scott went back to sleep, I got ready, did some client work, putzed around the house, ate breakfast and then welcomed my mom around 5:30am to take care of the kids. This was me in all my 41 week (almost) glory!
Scott and I arrived at L&D check-in at 6am, where the tech handed me a gown and meshy panties and told me to change. Um, no. Doesn’t the mom of six get some concessions? I’d decided to labor naturally and wanted to be comfortable. I held my ground and she just shook her head and laughed. I had already gotten the reputation as *that* mom on the floor. I just pulled up my nursing tank for all the monitors and left my yoga skirt on.
More check-in procedures, more nurses, more questions and then they asked to start an IV. At first I protested, but then I finally consented to having it put in my left arm and then hep-locked so I could be free from an IV pole. The nurse strapped on the contraction and fetal heart monitors and then we waited for my OB. At 9am my membranes were ruptured by Dr. O. I was still at 3cm and 80% effaced so we were hoping this would get the proverbial “show on the road.”
As a sidenote, my L&D nurse, Sharon, was the bomb shizzle. I knew I had a winner when she told me she wanted me to walk away from this birth experience feeling like it was a great one and that she was here to make sure that happened. I might’ve told her she was an answer to prayer and teared up. Maybe.
I was feeling great, contractions started coming every 5-7 minutes and Scott and I were pleased with the progress. Our nurse? Notsomuch. I believe her exact words were, “Kathryn, this every 5-7 minute gig isn’t going to cut it. It’s going to earn you a first-class ticket to the OR. It’s time to get serious.” I texted my midwife friend and she gave some great advice. Gravity is your friend, evidently.
Everyone left, Scott put on Pandora and we just danced. In a hospital room. And I finally, finally, let go. With every contraction, I had been reading a new intention and fervently praying for that person. But, it wasn’t until the Dominican Sisters song from their CD, Mater Eucharistiae, came on Pandora that I finally felt myself falling into God’s perfect plan. When the song ended, my contractions were at a steady 2-3 minute pace, lasting about a minute, and getting stronger.
At 11am, we called the birth photographer, I got my first check and found out I was a measly 4cm. Sharon warned me about that progress. She reminded me not to feel discouraged and made the comment that mommas of three or more babies tended to be fire alarms. Around 6cm, we blaze through and we’re pushing in no time. I can’t even tell you how much I held onto that wisdom. Fortunately for me, she worked with the midwives at a neighboring hospital and had helped many a momma deliver sans pain meds. Because I had made progress, we opted to hold off on the pitocin. My OB arrived, was thrilled with the progress and said they would check me again at 2pm.
I had been jetting to the bathroom every hour or so, but by 1:30, I had to hold onto the railing in the bathroom just to steady myself. The contractions were crazy intense. I whined to Scott that I should just call anesthesiology. He encouraged me to wait until my next check by the nurse. He felt I “had a few more good ones in me.” Total cheerleader, that one. If you want to know the real rockstar, it’s him. Scott is the reason I made it through that delivery. He knew just what to say, how to hold me, when to back off, where to be and how to give me the extra push I needed to power through every contraction. In fact, when things got really intense, he would say, “Just focus on your prayer partner. They’ll lead you through it.”
And y’all did. You sooo did.
I decided to lay down to labor after standing most of the morning and when I did, WHOA NELLY. Those contractions came on like a Mack truck. God kept bringing two phrases to mind with every contraction. One was from a dear friend who reminded me of the power of visualization. “Don’t fight the contractions, lean into them. The more you fight, the more you’ll have. Lean into the pain, focus on your cervix opening and take them one at a time.” The second was my priest who told me in confession, “God will be there in that moment of delivery. In fact, He’s already there.” Knowing that He was with me and waiting for me at delivery gave me tremendous peace.
By now, the contractions were so strong that Scott had to repeat the intention to me right before the wave hit. I could no longer concentrate on anything but that one contraction. A little after 2pm, I was at 6cm, almost 7. Sharon reminded me of the “fire alarm” and I gained renewed hope. She paged Dr. O and told her I was progressing quickly. Around 2:45 (I think), the nurse checked me again, this time while I was having a contraction. Oh my lawd. I may have asked her, “Are you kidding?” but then a contraction hit and I forgot. I was at 8cm. She paged Dr. O and told her to get to L&D #2, PRONTO.
A little after 3pm, I was at 10cm and the time to push had finally arrived. It’s no coincidence that I offered up my last intention with that last contraction. It was prayers for my kids and Scott’s encouragement to pray for Luke that carried me through that very last contraction. At one point, maybe around 7cm, I looked at Scott and contemplated asking him if that meant I didn’t have to have a c-section.
Just before I began pushing, Sharon caught my eye and said, “Kathryn, look at me and listen. You push when I tell you, you breathe when I tell you. If you’ll listen to me we’ll get this baby out in no time. I mean it.” I nodded and got focused. Let’s just say they don’t call it the ring of fire for nothing. My track record on pushing was good. It typically only take a contraction or two and we are welcoming a new life to the family.
I remember pushing with all I had in me thinking, why the heck isn’t this baby coming out? Everyone kept saying, “Oh looks good. You’re doing awesome. Almost there. Keep pushing.” Two contractions and six pushes later, out she came. Scott had asked for calling rights and he was the one to shout out: “IT’S A GIRL!”
Then, I cried.
Gianna’s cord was a good four-feet long! That earned a big ooh and aah from the entire L&D team. The remainder of the minutes that followed were filled with so much joy, jubilation, relief and happiness there aren’t enough words in the English language to convey them all. There were tears from lots of us and a really tender moment between Dr. O and me. “Thanks for believing in me,” I told her. “We did it,” she replied.
Yes, yes we did.
Before Gianna was even an hour old, my parents arrived with the kids and the crazy officially began. At this point, we still hadn’t decided on a name (that came two hours later!) Telling them of their sister’s arrival was just awesome. The nurses stamped Gianna’s feet on a pink sheet of paper. We then handed that pink sheet and a blank blue piece of paper, told them to guess the sex and then turn the papers over. This was their reaction.
I never dreamed I could have a successful VBAC. I certainly never dreamed I could do it without drugs. But God had the perfect plan in place. To say this birth experience was healing is quite the understatement. Nothing will ever erase the fear I carried because of Luke’s birth, but in many ways, Gianna’s entrance into the world healed more than just my heart. She is a reminder that God is kind and merciful. I would relive that day a thousand times – the pain, the labor, the joy and the gratitude.
And, when He tells you to let go, you really should.
*In another week or two I’ll be sharing the slide show of all our birth photos from our photographer. Until then, I hope you enjoy the photos above from Leilani! If you want to know why we chose to hire a birth photographer, you can read about that here.