VICTORIOUS Birth
After Multiple Cesareans
Page 3
It was growing light outside and all I knew at this point was: contraction, breathe, contraction, rest. The intensity was all upfront and especially WAY down low, much different from my prior posterior labor that wrapped pain mostly throughout my back. Even though it now felt all along my cesarean scar line, I did not fear rupture. Yet voices of doubt spoke of how my body was too tired to keep going and that if I didn’t verbally throw in the towel soon my body might just pass out from sheer exhaustion. Every muscle was involved in this labor of love and in addition to the shaking I was sweating profusely. I was having a few flashes back to that lonesome, unsupportive, cold, sterile hospital room surrounded by providers, coming in mechanical shifts, who all thought my body was broken. In the moment of that memory I recommitted myself to believing in birth: I will *not* give up.
I John 4: 18 “There is no fear in love. But perfect love
drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment.
The one who fears is not made perfect in love.”


Feelin’ Kinda Pushy

Around 6:45am or so I noticed that at end of each contraction I would have about 8-10 seconds of involuntary pushing. It was unexpected and uncontrollable—like a sneeze. For a moment I was concerned I might still only be at 5cm. J had been asking if I was feeling pushy and now I was undeniably overwhelmed with the urge. It felt good. At this time, K, the Family Nurse Practitioner (who specialized in newborns), arrived. I was initially irritated—someone new was in my space. Shortly after K's arrival, J asked me to stand up in the water so she could do a quick check. When I stood up and out of the tub she started by listening to baby’s heart rate between contractions. As I was clinging to Lee to do a little "labor hoola" during the next hard contraction, J said, “Oh, something’s happening.” I opened my eyes long enough to look between my legs and in the surface of the water I could see blood dripping as the contraction pushed my baby against my cervix. I was COMPLETE—fully dilated, fully effaced. This was about 7:30am.
Dreaded Decels

I knew that I felt better squatting and even better standing while clinging to DH slowly bouncing baby down into my pelvis. And now that I was complete, J and K would be doing intermitten heart rate checks between contractions to check for things like cord compression. I just kept rocking, kept breathing, and kept moving baby into an optimal birthing position in my mind. J had told me that if at any point she asked me to climb out of the water and get on all fours that she would need me to do that immediately. And now was that time as they were having difficulty getting a good fetal heart rate. I hopped (as much as a laboring woman can hop) out of the tub and got on all fours. Not a good reading. “Get on your right side!” I laid on my right side. Still not good. “On your left side. Hurry, Shaye!” But I couldn’t hurry and of course I was now having a pushing contraction. And did I happen to mention that my right-side ligaments felt like they were snapping in two when I tried to change sides? I felt panicky for a split second and visualized an ugly hospital transfer. Lee helped me carefully roll to my left side. During this time I remember hearing K (the neonatal nurse) say, “I got 90bpm that time.” They were getting varying heart rates and checking me in a variety of positions allowed them to quickly see what was happening with baby. What they were assuming from this check would be confirmed as baby made his/her entrance into the world. I’m quite sure that had a few of the low decels (decelerations of the heart rate) happened in the hospital I would have been wheeled into the OR without any further investigation for fear that I had ruptured or that baby had a nuchal cord. But these women were patient and cautious at the same time. Thank God they knew what to look for in advance to know what might be coming later. They respected birth and waited for any signs of needing to intervene.
Psalm 23:1 Lord, YOU are my shepherd.



I’m not sure when things were “okay” after the decels, but I distinctly remember being told to breathe—to give baby some oxygen. At one point someone put an oxygen mask on me which I removed shortly thereafter. I pushed on all fours again and could hear some quiet discussion—the mention of DH’s name, a little boy’s voice, and then I heard K say, “It’s okay, he won’t remember it.” What they explained later is that my 2.5-year-old son was incredibly curious about his mommy on the floor growling like an assortment of wild animals. He had climbed behind me, looked up between my legs while I was pushing, and began sweetly calling out, “Baby? Baby?” Oh what I wouldn’t have given to witness such a precious scene. Too bad we didn’t have the camera out.
Things seemed really quiet for a very long time. I’ve heard so many VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) stories of moms who claim that they suddenly knew they could birth their babies once they made it past the point they were at when they had their cesarean in a previous delivery. For me my first cesarean came after purple pushing for a couple hours, so passing that point would come only after a head popped out. I told myself to just keep going -- to trust birth and trust God. I was comforted by the fact that I had a very active and strong baby who would do wonderfully through the final stages of labor. I had NO idea we were within 30-45 minutes of that final push.



Psalm 23: 2-3 He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul.
Nearing the Finish Line

About this time, I believe 8:15-8:30, J suggested I push in a "hanging squat." That's where I am hanging suspended by Lee’s arms or knees. The pelvis is wide open but little to no pressure is on my knees and ankles as I’m sorta leaning back into DH. They got wonderful heart readings in this position even during pushing. After the hanging squat we all moved back to the bedroom. I remember in my head being very upset about this move. I had wanted to be in the water to give birth and going to the bedroom was just one big nuisance to this laboring momma. Once I got on the bed I didn’t want to move anymore despite the awkward positioning of my neck and head. Lee, J, and K asked me repeatedly to scoot down and get more comfortable. COMFORTABLE?! Haha! That was one word that made absolutely no sense to me at this point. Apparently they didn't think that was as funny as I did because next thing I know they’re lifting me and moving me down so that I don’t have that crick in my neck anymore. Whatever.
       J: “Shaye, what do you want more than anything right now?”
       Me: “I WANT THIS BABY OUT!!!!!!!” Agghhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!"
       J: “Do you want a VAGINAL delivery?”
       ME: “YESSSSSS!!!!!!!”
       J: “OK. The head is right there--just a couple more pushes.”
       ME: (I'm thinking "LIAR!" in my head)

She asks me if I want to hop back into the water to push my baby out. I want so badly to say yes, but I can’t imagine moving again at this point. I decline the move believing that every bit of energy I have left will go to pushing.
Psalm 23:4 “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,
for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”
Chorus:  Lord heal me, please free me
              I know you hear my prayer.
              Lord love me, please touch me.
              I need you here.
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J gets up to grab something from another room and while she’s in the hallway I hear K announce to her down the hall, “Baby is crowning!!!!” Suddenly Lee, J, and K are all talking about the head. Lee is excited which makes me cry as I type out the memory. Then God, in His unfathomable ways, gives me the endurance of a momma lion and I find an unwordly stamina to push. One big push and my hand flies down to investigate as I’m feeling some stinging sensation especially up along the left-hand side. All I remember saying is, “Ouch!” It’s important to mention at this point that multiple OB/GYNs from my past have informed me that whenever I have a vaginal delivery I will tear horribly and will have a far worse recovery period than any normal woman would because of a skin condition I was born with. Years ago I was told I would, no doubt, need an episiotomy. So in my head I’m thinking, this is it—here comes that horrible tearing. When I put my hand down further I felt what seemed to be a rather large, hairy grapefruit hanging out of me. It was soft and gushy to the touch. Surely that’s not a HEAD! Where are the bones? My eyes came fully open in shock. Furthermore, I had been expecting a horrible “ring of fire” and if this stinging was it, I was SO over it. I’m elated--giddy with euphoria. I AM birthing my baby! Right here, right now!
ABOVE: Not beautiful, but the only "pushing" shot we have.
J and K begin cheering me on, “Shaye, push through the pain. Lee, help her with her leg. Keep going. Almost there!” I grab my leg and promptly discover that I have no contraction, no urge to push, no surges, nada. I wish I had the energy to laugh because this really is funny: The head is practically hanging out of me stuck in that famous ring of fire position you hear about, and I’m actually WANTING a contraction to help me with my last push. Are you kidding me?! So I just push anyway. And much to my surprise the head is already out. I push once more and in seconds the rest of baby slides right out. It is finished.