VBAC Birth Stories

These VBAC birth stories are very candid. The fist birth was not at all the birth this mom envisioned except for being vaginal. So for the second VBAC - third birth - she changed cared provider and took a very assertive approach...and she had a beautiful drug free birth!

Read on...

VBAC Birth Stories: Number One

This was written shortly after my VBAC in 2008. It was not a good experience for me. If you still want to read it, go ahead but be warned it was not pleasant. You might prefer to read about my 2nd VBAC - below - which was much much better.

I'm not sure that my birth story is as traumatic as some...no one almost died, there was no medical crisis, etc. I just had a really lousy experience that doesn't seem to want to leave me.

I will try to start closer to the beginning. I was midway into my pregnancy when I began reading some not-so-mainstream books about pregnancy and birth. I started thinking that I was not so pleased with my OB office's approach to things. I'm a person, not a textbook, and I should be treated so. No woman is the same, likewise no pregnancy or woman's body is the same.

But, I digress.

Yeah, great, I achieved the VBAC I wanted so badly. Yay-rah. The problem is the whole thing has played hell with my mind.

Without going into too much detail, it was more-or-less a textbook birth. The problem with that? I didn't want a textbook birth. I wanted honesty and integrity, which I feel lacked severely.

It all started April 8, 2008. I relented and came in to the OB's office for yet another non-stress test. Everything was great. Then, they decided to use the ultrasound to check the amniotic fluid level. The doctor rated the level at a two, which she thought was very low for 41.5 weeks. I don't think it was that unusual because I am still convinced - based on my period dates - that I was really 43.5 weeks, but doctors don't want to think that a woman could be non-textbook so they refuse to believe it.

After much concern about the lack of fluid, a cesarean was scheduled for the next morning. I was devastated because I did not want another cesarean. My daughter's birth was taken totally out of my hands because I had to have a planned cesarean, due to medical issues. I did not want another repeat. I wanted a birth that I was in charge of and involved in. A cesarean would not be the birth I wanted and needed.

Sometime after midnight I started having contractions about every hour. They increased to two in an hour and at 5:00 a.m. I phoned the OB. She told me to come in at the scheduled time and she would tell the staff to check me and see if I was in labour. She also informed me that if I was, I would not be going home, rather I would be stuck there in hospital until I delivered. That did not make me happy.

I went upstairs and proceeded to get ready. When my husband got up shortly after, I told him what was going on. I also told him what the doctor said about not leaving the hospital. All I wanted him to do was to tell me that since I was already in labour, to not worry about it, that we would stay home and wait it out. He did not. He told me later that he did not even remember my telling him that I was in labour. I think he was just so absorbed in what he was going through at the time. I did not realize at the time, but he was upset as well. He did me a large injustice by not expressing his feelings or thoughts because I really feel that, had I known how he was feeling about the situation, I might have been a little more assertive at the hospital.

When we arrived, it was determined that I was in labour. Typical of women in labour arriving at the hospital, my labour stalled. Once I ran out the doctor's stopwatch on how long I should be in labour, they came at me again with pitocin. Pitocin, the same evil stuff that I had stressed I wanted nothing to do with was about to be plunged into my veins.

After being assured that I was going to be given "just a little" pitocin to gear up labour a bit and then it would be backed off, I relented. It sounded logical, sort of. No, that's a lie because the way the nurse explained it to me made no sense but since I felt like the only one in the room that didn't understand her, I thought something was wrong with me and that I should just be a good girl and take it. No one said to me, "Hey, that's that stuff you said you'd run away from the hospital if they tried to give you, remember?" Because that was what I really needed. I needed to know that it was okay for me to say "Hell no."

I cannot help but blame my husband a lot. Logically, I know - because he told me later - that he really thought I knew what I was doing when I made the decision and was not about to second-guess me if that was what I wanted. Eventually - I've been told it was several hours later - I begged for an epidural because I could not stand the pain any longer. The pitocin made me feel as though I was on fire. It got to the point that I could no longer pinpoint an exact location of the burning because it was all-consuming. I began to alternate wishing I could die, and becoming totally convinced that I was going to.

I guess everyone in the room was greatly relieved when I got the epidural; according to my husband, the moment it started, the tension in the room dissipated. I don't recall this but apparently I had been fighting with the nurse, and my eldest sister (present in the room also) was doing some of the same. Odd, because I don't remember this. I'm not sure if I was just so distracted or if I just chose not to remember it.

I remember bits and pieces, really. I remember crying and pleading with my husband to take me home. I am pretty sure I remember that I also pleaded with him to take the pitocin out of my arm.

When I insisted that the nurse turn it off, she agreed but made it clear she would have to phone the doctor. Upon her return, she informed me that the OB had stated that if I did not have the pitocin turned back on, then in two hours when she came in, I would be having a cesarean. I felt defeated.

Shortly after, I was informed it was time to push. I found myself flat on my back with my legs in the air - exactly the position I did not want to be in - to birth the baby.

I wanted to kick the doctor every time she barked orders at me to not make noise. Hello??? How am I not supposed to grunt or make some sort of noise when I'm trying to push a baby out of me. I think that, had the nurse and my husband not been acting as stirrups, I just might have kicked her. It's about all I could think of doing at the time. It was hard to focus on anything else.

At this point, I was sure that, if I did decide to have another baby, I was sure that I would avoid OBs and hospitals like the plague. I did not return for my post-partum check. I went to our family doc instead.

I also just wish I didn't feel so horrified at the whole thing. I know the end result is a baby, although sometimes I felt as though I was just going through the motions. I occasionally felt a twinge of caring for him, but it seemed like those twinges were few and far between and would remain that way for a few months.

I can honestly say that I have been raped and felt less violated than I did when that OB got through with me.

Fortunately, I have healed a great deal from his birth. I love Elias more than anything and there is no difference between any of my children. I am very fortunate in that I am much better now and I know many women do not heal so well from a traumatic birth.

VBAC Birth Stories: Number Two

My contractions began at about 3 am, Monday morning, April 20, 2009. They continued off and on all day. We went to the scheduled appointment at the birth center where they did a NST - non stress test. Once everyone was confirmed to be okay with baby, she wanted to check to see how far dilated I was. I seemed to have surprised her when she discovered I was right about 4.5 - I don't know if I was too calm or what. Next, I was told to go home, stay active, hydrated, and be certain to eat.

We began making arrangements to get the kids taken care of. My mother took our daughter with her. We then met Jon's parents in Avon for supper and passed off the little guy to them. Contractions sped up to about 8 to 10 minutes apart during supper. We then proceeded to go home and try to get ready.

Contractions held pretty steady around ten minutes apart, after a bit of fluctuating to about 12-14 first. I started feeling a little chilled so I decided to jump in the tub. I stayed in for a while until I got bored. It was nice and very comfortable while it lasted, however. I got out and lounged on our bed with a book for awhile.

We watched Bones and Two and a Half Men that we had DVRed previously. I honestly don't recall if this was before I got in the tub the first or the second time.

It wasn't too long before things began to get harder to deal with. I felt like I just really had to poop. I sat on the toilet for awhile, frustrated because I couldn't do anything. I kept peeing though. Every time I thought I was done peeing, I felt more coming out, which rather confused me as I sat there. Finally, I decided to get back into the tub. It didn't help. I felt even more like I needed to poop. It was odd because I wanted to try to poop right there in the tub, which completely baffled me at the time!

Out of morbid curiousity, I inserted a finger inside to feel if anything was going on. I felt something very hard, which puzzled me. I could not figure out what on earth would be so hard that I could feel.

The heat of the water started making me feel sick, which helped even less. Jon started putting some cold water in to try to cool it off. It helped, but not much. The heat made me feel like I was going to vomit. Finally he got the water cooled down, all the while trying to get me to get out. At one point, I was half hanging out of the tub in much pain. He finally convinced me and helped me climb out.

I laid naked on the bed, miserable.

He had already turned the ceiling fan on high. I asked him to open a window. I kept on with that constipated feeling as I was racked with pain. Finally, Jon phoned Barb - the CNM (certified nurse midwife) who (I believe) suggested we get to the hospital. Andrea - another CNM - had already let her know we would almost definitely be phoning that same night.

He finally coerced me off of the bed, although I still stood leaning over the bed sort of swaying back and forth. I tried to reach down to get my pants on, but was unable to. He had to help me get my pants on. Bending over was just not possible at this point. Sitting was even more unimaginable, although there was not much other way to get to the hospital.

Once we got to the car, I laid the seat back as far as it would go. The Jimmy Buffet CD I had been listening to earlier was still playing. I was able to focus on that fairly well. You wouldn't think Buffet would be terribly conducive to laboring but, oddly enough, it did help.

I won't lie. The ride was fairly miserable. The pain became almost constant - no real reprieve at all. Finally, we got to the hospital. Jon told me he could either drop me off at the front or I could stay with him and walk from the garage. I opted for the latter. I was not about to be by myself at this point!!

We parked, Jon grabbed pretty much everything leaving me to grab my pillow and we began walking. And walking. Every once in awhile I had to stop, grab the wall, and hold on, all the while feeling that strange needing-to-poop feeling. After the pain would somewhat subside, I would then be able to continue walking. Finally we get into the lobby where Jon said something about a wheelchair. I wasn't sure that I wanted to sit down, but I also wasn't sure that I wanted to keep walking. I decided to sit down.

We went up to the third floor only to find that we were at the wrong doors - after 9 pm they get locked. We went to the other doors only to find out that we had to go back downstairs to another set of elevators entirely to come back up to the third floor.

Once we finally got in, the nurses immediately knew who we were. We went into the room that was waiting for us. I don't recall a lot of what went on while I continued feeling miserable. At one point, the nurse asked me to use the toilet. I sat there, peed, and suddenly realized that I needed to poop so badly. I started bearing down, trying unsuccessfully. At this point, I knew something felt off. I reached down and touched my vulva to feel what was going on and felt something hard. It startled me and I snatched my hand back. It took me a moment to get it together and I felt again, only to feel nothing abnormal.

I had been bearing down off and on. At one point, the nurse asked me if I felt like pushing. I said I didn't know. It was about this time that she came in and insisted I get off of the toilet. I would later learn that my grunting had alerted the nurse, who was calling frantically trying to get anyone to respond and come to help.

The nurse walked me to the bed. It wasn't terribly easy since I was walking bowlegged at that point. She had me lie down on the bed in order to wrap the straps for the baby monitor around me. I really wanted to be doing anything but lying down. She kept trying to get me to lie flat and I kept telling her no. I wanted to be upright but she wouldn't let me, telling me I couldn't without the midwife or an OB there. I was so angry!! Finally I rolled over on my side and refused to lie on my back.

I kept bearing down - by this time I had figured out what was going on with the feeling to poop that I had been having - and I felt this odd burning sensation. I remember hearing "rimming" used twice by the nurse. It was then that I decided I wanted the baby out and I wanted him out right then!! At one point, Jon told me the baby was out. I yelled back, "No, he's not because I can still feel him!!!!" It was about then that I felt almost a woosh and the burning was gone.

Finally, Barb rushed in. Jon would later tell me that she ran into the room, donned some gloves and got to me just in time to catch the baby.

Noah was born at 12:06 am on 21, April 2009. He was 8 lb 15 oz and 21 inches long.

This mom is the author of a blog called our crazy house.

To leave a comment or review Click Here

Read others' comments and reviews.

VBAC Birth Stories: Reviews

Any thoughts? A comment or a story? A suggestion? Share with us!

What Other Moms Have Shared with Us.

Click below to see contributions from other moms to this page...