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I honestly do not even know where to begin sharing about my unmedicated birth story. I thought I had so much more time and  expected to have a whole series of voice memos recorded, planned, and scheduled before the baby arrived.

And so many of my to-dos got left undone. I wanted to make more freezer meals, finish her nursery, and organize my closet.

Instead, I am lying in bed with a five-day-old baby on my chest, trying to record her birth story while everything is still fresh.

I am still a little shocked that she is already here. She came earlier than we expected (sort of), she is perfect, and this has been the sweetest week. I’m so grateful for how well my birth went and how good I’m feeling postpartum. We definitely have not been feeling like we’re in the newborn trenches at all. It’s more like just an adjustment period of a life change. Like when you start a new job or move houses or something. Different and exciting but not overwhelming or too much… just beautiful. 

So while it’s still fresh in my mind, let me share my story, but first, we have to back up a bit.

The Feeling That She Would Come at 38 Weeks

Sometime around my fifth month of pregnancy, I remember telling Josh that I had a strange feeling I would deliver at 38 weeks.

I did not know why. Then I saw other pregnant women saying they thought they would deliver at 38 weeks, only to still be pregnant at 41 or 42 weeks, so I decided the feeling probably did not mean anything.

Then I reached 38 weeks on a Saturday and was sure I was wrong. At that point I thought maybe I had a few more days to a week at least. My grandmother was staying with us but I felt so sure I wouldn’t deliver early that I even told her to go visit with my cousin for the weekend who lived an hour away.

So anyways, that morning, I felt completely normal. We went to the farmers market, did some shopping, and I had a friend over for lunch.

The only slightly unusual thing was the nap I took that afternoon. I fell asleep on the couch for about an hour and a half and woke up thinking, That nap was something. I was deeply asleep and unusually groggy afterward. Which is sort of my normal third trimester naps but this one felt different. 

My Water Broke First

By dinner, I did not know what I wanted to cook, so my grandmother and I went to get pizza from this cute little place around the corner. We originally planned to eat there, but at the last minute, I decided we should take it home.

We sat down in the living room to watch our show (we’ve been slowly working through it for years because we only watch it when we’re together and we were so close to having it finished). 

I was sitting on the floor eating pizza because the floor was more comfortable than the couch at that point in pregnancy.

We were maybe five minutes into the episode when I felt a small trickle down my leg. I immediately jumped up knowing exactly what it was… my water broke. There was no way it was pee because I had just gone to the bathroom so my bladder couldn’t have had that much in it. I ran toward the bathroom because I did not want fluid getting on the rug. I guess I had jumped up so quickly I sort of startled Josh and my grandmother.

But the magic words were “my water just broke” and they were up too.

At first it started as a trickle but then it kept coming. Josh brought me a towel, and there was absolutely no question at that point.

This was happening.

Baking Sourdough at the Beginning of Labor

I wasn’t really having contractions yet, at least not anything that felt different from Braxton Hicks, so I assumed it might take a while for labor to get going.

I had also been convinced I had at least another week, which meant I still had things I wanted to finish. There was sourdough that needed to be baked, ingredients for another postpartum meal I wanted to freeze, bags that needed one final check, and a few other loose ends.

So after my water broke, I cooked a meal, baked sourdough, finished packing, took a shower, washed my hair, and did my best to get everything ready.

They were probably not the things most people imagine doing at the beginning of labor, but they helped me feel prepared.

We also called my doula and the midwife who was on call at the hospital. I had chosen to deliver at a hospital with an attached midwifery practice, which meant I could have a midwife-supported birth while still being in a hospital setting.

The midwife on call that night was one of the only midwives in the group I had never met. When I explained that my water had broken and tried to share some of my preferences, including that I wanted an unmedicated birth, I did not feel particularly heard. She told me that if nothing had happened by eight in the morning, I needed to come in and would probably need Pitocin. 

I understood what she was saying, but I also knew my family tended to have fairly quick labors. I felt like my body still had time to begin labor on its own. Also, my mother’s labors usually started with her water breaking which is rare – like 5% of births if I remember correctly. But since it was in my family history, I didn’t feel concerned about it.

I also mentioned a few other things I desired and she seemed to brush them off. Then when I said “I’d like my grandmother to help catch the baby”, she said “we’ll talk about that when you get here”. Every other midwife I had mentioned it to had been very supportive. 

 

After I got off the phone, I called my dad and asked him to pray that I would go into active labor at the right time and have the baby with the team that would be best for the birth I was hoping for.

The Miles Circuit and a Quiet Night of Labor

By around eleven that night, I had finished the last-minute food preparation and gotten everything as ready as I could.

My doula recommended doing the Miles Circuit, which involves a series of positions and movements intended to help the baby settle into a favorable position. During the inversion portion, I felt a pop. When I sat up, I had another huge gush of fluid, so I think the bag may have opened a little more.

After I completed the circuit, my contractions began becoming more consistent. By around one or one-thirty in the morning, they were coming every six or seven minutes and lasting about a minute.

Around two, I decided to lie down and rest.

At that point, I was doing the math in my head. My mother, sister, and grandmothers all had relatively short active labors. I also knew that the hospital midwives changed shifts around eight or eight-thirty in the morning.

So I wondered whether I could peacefully make it another six hours.

When I laid down, the contractions spread to about twenty minutes apart. I knew that if I got up and started moving, they would probably intensify again, so I stayed in bed and slept between them.

It was a strange but peaceful way to labor through the night.

Once I Got Out of Bed, Everything Changed

At eight in the morning, my grandmother brought us breakfast. I stayed in bed to eat because I knew that once I stood up, the game was probably on.

It was.

I walked from our bedroom toward the kitchen, and my contractions immediately began coming about five minutes apart.

Then four.

Then three.

At one point, I was on my knees leaning over the couch and had three contractions that seemed to roll directly into one another with almost no break.

Josh called my doula. She had initially planned to meet us at the house so I could labor there, but he told her he had a feeling we needed to go straight to the hospital.

It took me a while just to get into the car because I could not really move through the contractions, and I could barely talk during them.

Thankfully, the hospital was only about twenty minutes away. My doula arrived before us and already had a wheelchair waiting. She took me directly into triage while Josh parked the car. I thank God for her because on the way up I remember leaning my head back on her shoulder and saying through tears and between contractions “I’m scared”. She was so soothing and reassuring. She helped me find a place of calm before we got to triage that I really needed.

Triage and Advocating for My Preferences

When they checked me, I told them very clearly that I did not want to know how dilated I was.

They could tell everyone else, but not me.

If I was under five centimeters, I knew I would feel discouraged. If I was over five, I thought I might panic because everything would feel like it was happening too quickly.

Triage took a while because several of my preferences differed from the hospital’s usual standard of care. I did not want continuous fetal monitoring, and ideally, I had hoped for intermittent Doppler monitoring instead.

They did not have a nurse working that day who felt comfortable providing that, so we compromised on using the regular fetal monitor for about three to six minutes each hour per hospital guidelines. My midwife looked it up for me.

It was not exactly what I wanted, but it was a compromise I could accept.

I also declined a routine IV because laboring naturally with a needle in my arm sounded like a special kind of hell. They explained the potential risks, I signed the paperwork, and we continued discussing a few other arrangements we had made ahead of time.

Eventually, we were finally moved into the delivery room.

Entering “Labor Land”

As soon as we got into the room, my doula suggested trying part of the Miles Circuit again. I attempted the inversion, but I lasted only a few minutes before telling her I could not do the full half hour. She helped me lie on my side instead.

Very quickly after that, I went into what I would call active labor.

From that point forward, almost everything is a blur.

I entered what a friend of mine calls “labor land.” All I could focus on was getting through one contraction and then the next. My doula later told me they were 2-4 minutes apart and just never let up. My contractions became extremely intense, and I had almost no awareness of what was happening around me but my support team was incredible.

Josh applied counter pressure through every contraction. That man deserves a gold star because the way he showed up for me was amazing.

My mother, grandmother, and doula were all there. My mom and doula took turns staying near my head, reminding me to relax and helping me breathe slowly enough that I would not hyperventilate. Then my grandmother and whoever else was free would massage my legs, help me stay comfortable, and make sure I continued sipping water.

Time moved so strangely. Every time the nurses returned for the brief fetal monitoring, I realized another hour had passed.

The hours felt fast, even though each contraction took everything I had.

When My Body Began to Push

At some point, my doula encouraged me to get up and try to use the bathroom. She thought emptying my bladder might relieve some pressure and help labor continue progressing. It was incredibly difficult to get there because I was so deep in labor, but eventually, with help from her and Josh, I made it to the toilet.

I could not pee. But while I was sitting there, the contractions changed.

I suddenly felt intense pressure, and my body began pushing. I don’t think I completely understood what was happening, but my doula recognized the change and said it was probably time to call the midwife.

They helped me back to the bed, and that was when I started saying, “I can’t do this.” I told Josh, “I don’t think I can do this. I need something.” He looked at me and said, “You are doing it.” My doula said the same thing.

They kept telling me I was doing it, everything was okay, and I was almost done. But I couldn’t tell. The end still felt impossibly far away. I had no idea where I was progression wise because the contractions had been the same just about the whole time we’d been there. My doula later told me that the nurse on duty told her that she didn’t think I’d progressed any because I just kept laying there quietly moaning through contractions. She was very unconvinced when my doula told her I was about to push this baby out. 

The pushing contractions became more intense, and I began having to bear down with them. On one hand, I could not control the fact that my body needed to push. On the other hand, I still had some control over how hard I pushed.

The midwife came into the room and asked whether she could check me. My answer to almost everything at that point was, “I don’t know.” My doula and the others gently encouraged me to let her check because pushing before being fully dilated could potentially cause an injury.

I was still lying on my side, and thankfully, the midwife did not make me move onto my back. She barely began checking me before saying something along the lines of, “Okay, let’s push this baby out.” The baby’s head was already right there.

My Grandmother Caught Her

One of the most beautiful parts of the birth was that the midwife had agreed to let my grandmother help catch the baby. This was something I had wanted so, so badly. My grandmother got ready while the midwife coached her, and I began intentionally working with the pushing contractions.

I pushed for about twenty minutes. Part of that was by design because I could feel everything stretching and opening, and I wanted to push slowly enough to give my body time to adjust. I would push, then back off a little. Push, then back off again.

At one point, I asked whether she had crowned, and they said yes. That helped me understand where we were and how much effort I wanted to give. This was something I had learned about in the book Natural Childbirth the Bradley Way by Susan McCutcheon.

Then someone said her head was halfway out.

At that point, I thought, “All right. I am done here. I’m just doing this.”

I gave another one or two pushes. Her head came out, and then her body came flying out behind it. I did not even have to push her body out. My grandmother caught her and passed her up to me. It was the most beautiful moment.

“I Will Never Do This Again—and I Can Do This Again”

The relief after she was born was immediate. The contractions simply stopped. She was placed on my chest, and we had three beautiful golden hours together. I always wondered if I’d be one of those people that breathed their baby out and cried as soon as she was handed to me… I was not. There were definitely deep low moans through my contractions which sounded SO loud in my head. I even remember asking if I was being too loud but everyone assured me that I was not. The midwife literally told me that I was at about a two for loudness. I didn’t believe her at the time but was surprised when I watched my birth video back. 

When she came out and was placed on my chest, I was able to grab her but needed a moment to gather myself. And shockingly, I was the only one in the room not crying. I sort of chuckle about it now but it was a whole body experience… almost an out of body experience and I  needed a moment to come back to myself.

During labor, part of me was thinking, I will never do this again. Then another part of me was already thinking, Okay, but if we have another child, I can do this. I felt so proud of myself.

Our daughter weighed five pounds, thirteen ounces. She was small, but healthy. Her Apgar score was nine, she latched right away, and she passed all of her newborn assessments beautifully.

My placenta came out without difficulty, and everyone commented on how healthy it looked. It was a little small, but our baby was small too, and after talking to family members, I realized that small babies simply tend to run in our family.

We stayed at the hospital for one night. Part of the experience of being there was sweet and romanticized in our little newborn bubble but I also wanted to be home.

Because she was so small and because my water had been broken for eighteen hours, the hospital initially considered keeping us for another night. But the pediatrician on duty happened to be part of the practice we had already chosen for her.

Baby girl looked great, so they agreed to let us go home as long as we brought her into the office the following day. We were home after about twenty-four hours.

The Birth I Had Prayed For

Her birth did not happen when I expected it to… well it did but it didn’t.  Voice memos for the podcast weren’t scheduled. Not  every item on my list was finished. I thought I had more time. But when it came to the things that mattered most, I felt prepared.

In the end, I had an incredible support team and felt so heard. I was able to advocate for myself and compromise when necessary without giving up the things that mattered most to me.

I gave birth without medication or unnecessary interventions. My grandmother caught my daughter. And I think I got about as close to the birth of my dreams as I possibly could have while giving birth in a hospital.

Now we’re home, basking in the joy of this tiny, beautiful person who arrived a little earlier than expected and yet somehow completely on time.

Let me know what you thought of this episode or if you have any questions. You can send me a text or voice message DM on Instagram.

All my love,

Allison Sue