Baby Cary's birth

Emily shares her birth story:

When I found out I was pregnant, I hadn’t been to an OB/GYN in years. Since I was a child, I have despised going to the doctor because of the chance that I might have to remove some or all of my clothing. I wasn’t raised to be ashamed of my body – I am just naturally extremely modest. So I was delighted to be pregnant, but not excited about going to the doctor and having to get undressed.

Around the time of my first OB appointment, a pregnant friend of mine started posting articles on Facebook about the terrors of hospital birth. According to her information, I would be strapped to a gurney in the manner of a horizontal crucifixion, paralyzed by pain medicine from the waist down, forced to labor nude in front of 100 strangers, with the doctor and nurses taking turns violating my body with various unnecessary instruments and machines. If by some miracle I got out of there alive with my baby, we wouldn’t be able to bond or breastfeed because of the trauma, and he would grow up to be a psychopath incapable of making eye contact. 

Needless to say, I was terrified by these posts (from a heretofore reasonable friend) and spent many hours agonizing and crying over my decision to have my baby in the hospital. Being a total birth novice, and having no way to authenticate my friend’s claims about the hospital, I was sadly resigned to my fate but felt it was the only way to be sure that we weren’t too far from help if a true emergency arose.

My son’s birth couldn’t have been more different than what had been portrayed as a typical hospital birth. Six days after his due date, I started feeling strong contractions around 11:30 p.m. My husband (a scientist) tracked them on a spreadsheet. They were one minute long and 7-8 minutes apart until around 2 a.m, when they picked up to 3-5 minutes apart. I rocked and breathed through them, and didn’t scream, to my surprise. We were having a hard time determining when to leave for the hospital, because I thought we were supposed to wait until the contractions were 3 minutes apart consistently for an hour. For some reason, I would have a whole bunch of regular contractions, and then there would be a big gap of about 8 minutes. I figured this meant it wasn’t time to go yet. Suddenly around 5 a.m., the contractions accelerated to 1-3 minutes apart. At this point, I had vomited enough from the pain where I figured I had no fluid left in me to vomit in the car, so it was safe to leave. I really didn’t want to have to take baby home in a vomit car. 

We got to the hospital around 5:45 a.m. After walking around for 10 minutes and becoming lost, I sat on the floor and told my husband to go find the right area, and come back for me. We made it to the labor and delivery intake a short time later, and after determining that my pre-registration information had been lost, I had to take off my clothes and get checked out. YAAA! Pain! I was dilated to a 6. Several nurses asked if I was having a natural birth because I had apparently waited a long time to come in. They got me ready to move to the delivery room, and kept fussing about my gown, making sure it covered everything for the trip down the hall. At that point I couldn’t have cared less if I had to somersault nude to the delivery room on broadcast television…I wanted that epidural. 

Tracy, my delivery nurse, was so nice! Because of all the heavy breathing through the contractions, my mouth was dry as a desert and my tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth. I kept asking politely for ice chips, but no one was responding. When Tracy came in, I asked her and she directed someone to bring me ice. It was the best ice I’d ever tasted. She did another check and determined I was 8-9 centimeters dilated. I was starting to be afraid that I wouldn’t have time for the epidural, and silently cursed myself for not leaving earlier. The fetal heart rate monitor was attached, and I had an IV in my arm (I asked the nurse not to put it in my hand because I am a pianist and I’m sensitive about my hands – this wasn’t a problem for the nurse at all). Neither the monitor nor the IV was obtrusive at all, and I loved listening to baby’s heartbeat. Once the monitor was attached, I couldn’t imagine how nervous I would be not knowing if the baby was alive and kicking through the stress of labor. 

Finally the anesthesiologist arrived, and after asking a lot of questions, he was able to place the epidural while Tracy held my hands. I don’t remember feeling any pain when the epidural was administered. About 5 minutes later, I felt a contraction that was about one-tenth of the strength of previous contractions, if that. The anesthesiologist became my new best friend. I started shivering uncontrollably (side effect of the epidural?), so Tracy brought over a bunch of warm blankets and piled them on me. My OB arrived and checked me. This time I was quite relaxed! She said I was at a 9 or a 10, and she would let me get some much-needed rest, and check on me later. I took a 10 minute nap, and then my husband and I called family and friends to let them know the baby was on his way. I felt so relaxed and stress-free after the epidural kicked in. That break was just what I needed to gather my strength to continue laboring after a sleepless night of contractions. I felt totally at ease, and was able to enjoy and reflect upon the experience and marvel at what was to come. 

The doctor returned about an hour later and decided to break my water to move things along. Tracy helped me turn on my side so that the baby could get into a better position and move past my pubic bone (not 100% sure of the medical details here). I spent the next couple of hours relaxing, eating ice, and talking to my husband. Tracy popped in and out to check on me and the baby. Around 11 a.m., it was time to start pushing, so she turned off my epidural. She helped me into a reclined seated position and showed me how to use my arms to brace myself. She and my husband each took a leg (which I could move just fine) and used their bodies to provide leverage for me to push against. Pushing was going rather slowly despite the epidural wearing off and the pain coming back, so I asked for a mirror to see my progress. After a few more pushes, I could see a spot emerging which was the size of a half dollar – the top of the baby’s head!

My OB came in to deliver my son. I was feeling the pain quite a bit and it was causing me to hold back the urge I felt to push, so I asked for the epidural to be turned back on. Once the epidural returned to near-full strength, I wasn’t scared to push harder. I could see the baby crowning in the mirror, and I could feel that I was going to tear, so I asked my OB to do a small episiotomy so that I wouldn’t have to see my perineum explode. She did this for me even though she thought I wouldn’t tear too badly. Since I could feel the size of the baby coming out, I disagreed! One huge push later, and the baby’s head was delivered. My husband said he had his eyes open and was looking around! My OB caught the awed look on my face and said “I know, right!”

She asked me for one more push, and two seconds later my baby was on my chest. He was amazing! Tracy saw how large he was (9 lbs, 8 oz), and said, “No wonder it took so long!” I thought an hour of pushing was not too bad, actually!

After a few minutes together, my husband cut the cord and Tracy took the baby to a little warm table to be cleaned up and checked out, while my husband took pictures. My OB delivered the placenta and stitched me up. I had torn a bit to the side in addition to the episiotomy, but nothing major. Tracy brought the baby back to me and we breastfed right in the delivery room. We are still breastfeeding two months later, and our little family has bonded like you wouldn’t believe.

Thankfully, it turned out that my friend’s “insider knowledge” was a bunch of lies and exaggerations. I loved my hospital birth. It was one of the best days of my life!

Eris' hospital birth

Alex shares her story (and a darling video!) from her daughter Eris' birth:


I had the textbook-perfect pregnancy, from the winter solstice to the autumnal equinox, despite having polycystic kidney disease. I was extremely physically active throughout, including taking a Dancing For Birth prenatal class. Since I was Group-B Strep positive, I was instructed by my Family Physician to call as soon as my water broke, which it did with an audible popping sound at 1:40am in the morning on my due date. After calling my doctor to describe the orange fluid leak, I woke my husband at about three in the morning to head to Swedish First Hill hospital in Seattle, Washington state, USA. After we checked into triage, more amniotic fluid gushed out in their bathroom, causing me to be responsible for closure of their bathroom for bio-hazard clean up for the rest of the night. 




I napped between mild contractions until 7:33am in the morning, when I was checked and my cervix was found to be 3-4 centimeters dilated and 70% effaced already, qualifying me for a Birth Suite! At this point, the nurses asked me to rate my pain on a scale from one to ten, where ten was the worst pain I'd ever experienced. I was sorta sore from the internal exam, so I said three or four. They said, "So, five or six?" My husband and I laughed. My doctor told me to walk around for two hours, which I did, and by the time I was checked again in the Birth Suite at 11:10am in the morning, I was 4 centimeters dilated and 100% effaced with the baby at 0 station. They asked me about my pain again, and I was doing fine as long as I wasn't laying around, so they just intermittently monitored my daughter's hear rate with a hand-held monitor. 

I danced during contractions, later retreating to rocking in a rocking chair between them. The port on my hand for my occasional IV antibiotics was not restrictive in the least.  My doula arrived on the scene and pampered me with back-rubs and cups of tea for the rest of my labour. As the endorphins kicked in, the world seemed surreal, and reality melted away, but not in a bad way; more like in a "Yellow Submarine" sort of way! By 2:09pm in the afternoon, I was 6 centimeters dilated after sitting in the rocking chair listening to movies, and my doctor recommended the jacuzzi tub, which slowed contractions but made them far more productive! At 3:29pm in the afternoon, my uterus simply started pushing on its own. My doula whispered softly that she was going to tell my doctor I was having the "urge to push" and that I would then be surrounded by a lot of people and noise and to just stay inside myself. I was surprised to be found to be 10 centimeters dilated, since I was expecting the feeling of "giving up" or wanting pain medications that was described during transition in all the books I'd read. Those thoughts had never crossed my mind, and I remained relaxed and in great spirits.

They put up a support bar over the bed so that I could squat and push. My doctor donned booties and joked that she always regretted it when she didn't. Foreshadowing of the splashy event about to take place! At a potty break to reduce the physical barrier of my full bladder, my external intermittent fetal monitoring briefly registered a heart deceleration, which frightened me, but switching to a hands-and-knees position solved it. The two and a half hours of pushing really didn't hurt until the last minute, and felt good, albeit tiring! Strangely, I did decide to yell during this stage, despite the great reduction in pain, sort of like a war-cry! My husband dozed in spite of it all.


In between contractions, I shouted for somebody to order me some oatmeal, which I ate after the birth. At 6:32pm, all 6 pounds and 13 ounces of her shot out like a baby horse! She was 19.5 inches long. My first words to her were, "Hi. I built you. I guess that makes me your mom." Then, my husband said something like, "I think we'll keep her" and I looked up at him with tears in my eyes and said, "I'm so relieved that I love her!" 


Unfortunately, she had swallowed a bit of meconium, and I had significant tearing that needed some stitches, but we recovered quickly and we still got out of there after our standard 24-hour watch period. My daughter also punched a nurse right in the face during her first bath!

My hospital experience was terrific, and I look forward to another great hospital birth of my son, Orion, coming this May!  It is funny because during the last labour's potty break described above, my doctor told me, "We should do this again sometime!"  Sure enough, we will! 

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We were featured on Frugal Dad's Top Parenting Blogs! Thanks, Frugal Dad!

(Sorry I haven't been updating more frequently -- Miss Natalie has been crawling for a few months now, and is THE biggest troublemaker! I'm getting quite a backlog of stories, so I'm hoping to get some up here soon.)

Baby Blair's happy hospital birth

Chelsea shares her daughter Blair's birth story:

I would like to tell a little about my daughter Blair's hospital birth. The hospital staff was just fantastic, and I cannot thank them enough. I hope this story will help dispel the lies that all hospital births are horrible and traumatic.

I am a first-time mother. Like any parent, I was nervous and excited when my boyfriend and I found out we were having a baby. We chose an Ob-Gyn recommended by a neighbor. The office staff truly made me feel welcome and at ease, and my doctor was so warm, caring and helpful the whole way through. When I was about 24 weeks along, we took a tour of one of the two hospitals in town. I fell in love with the tour leader -- she reminded me at once of my grandmother and my kindergarten teacher. We saw how clean, secure, calm and quiet the maternity ward was. I liked that mothers were guaranteed private rooms.

My boyfriend and I went home to work on a birth plan. I like the idea of a birth plan, because it allows you to express how and what you think will happen, and what you think you might like or not like, and your doctor can offer imput and suggestions. I knew I did not want an episiotomy, and my doctor assured me she rarely, rarely performed them. She informed me I was positive for Group B strep, so I would need to arrive early at the hospital so that I could receive IV antibiotics. (Funny thing, I was actually more scared of the needle than the pain of childbirth!) As far as pain management, I wanted to try without any, but I told myself I wouldnt feel guilty if the pain was too much and I decided I needed them.

Months later, once my contractions were 5 minutes apart, we drove to the hospital. The admitting nurse was very friendly and helpful. Of course, with Blair being my first baby, labor took a while. We arrived around midnight, and Blair was born at 8:45 that night. So, I went through several nurses and both of my on-call OB's. (The delivering doctor ended up being an affiliate of my OB's. She was also just wonderfully helpful.) The staff were all immensely caring and helpful, I really felt cared for. Everyone made an effort to answer my questions, address my concerns, explain what was going on.

I really could not have asked for better care or people to help me give birth. There were no complications for me or for Blair. I am so grateful to the entire maternity ward staff! One especially wonderful staff member was the lactation consultant, the lady who had given us the tour earlier.

Lisa's baby stories

Birth story one

It was January 26th, and I was 9 days past due. My OB had scheduled an induction to be started the following morning, so in addition to being tired of the pregnancy, I was worried about being induced. I very much wanted to have a natural birth, and was afraid I wouldn’t be able to accomplish this if I had the induction. For a week I’d been trying everything I could think of to bring on labor, except eating spicy foods since I have a huge aversion to them. It was four in the afternoon, and my husband was heading out to his evening classes. We had just tried one of the more…intimate ways of bringing on labor, and I was having some mild contractions, but I figured they wouldn’t last since I'd been having them on and off for a week, and they always went away after an hour or less. So off to class my dear hubby went, and I promised to call if things picked up and became regular.

When around 5:30 the contractions had not yet gone away, and seemed to be fairly regular, I started timing them. They were 10 minutes apart and lasted about 20 seconds or so. Nothing to get excited over, but excited I got since this was the most that had happened in weeks. I had a snack and watched some TV trying to distract myself so I wouldn’t get my hopes up to high if this didn’t turn into real labor. I timed them again at 7, and they were 7 minutes apart, lasting 35-40 seconds. Now I did get excited. But I didn’t want to call my husband yet, just in case. Besides, they weren’t close enough to go to the hospital. I double checked that my bag had everything I wanted/needed in it. I spent about an hour fiddling with baby clothes and planning what I would put my baby in for his first pictures. At 8:30 I timed my contractions again, and they were 5-6 minutes apart lasting a solid 40-45 seconds. So I called my husband. He got home about 9 pm, and was raring to go to the hospital. We timed my contractions again, and they were still about the same as before, so I said we’d wait. He spent the next hour and a half timing my contractions, and asking me if I was ready to go yet. He was so anxious. At 10:30 they were a little less than 5 minutes apart, still lasting about 40 seconds. Off to the hospital we went.

The hospital wasn’t far, and there was no traffic since it was late at night. But in the span of that short car trip my contractions actually slowed down. When we checked in they were back to being almost 7 minutes apart, lasting only 30 seconds or so. Luckily, I was dilated 4 centimeters, 100% effaced, so they let me stay. I would’ve been really bummed if they had sent me home, which I was afraid they would do considering how much my contractions had weakened. It was a little after 11:00, and I’d now been in early labor for about seven hours.

The hospital was great about my desire to maintain mobility during labor. They put in a Hep-lock so I wouldn’t have to be attached to an IV, and they put it about midway up my forearm so that it wouldn’t interfere with my ability to use my wrist or elbow joints. They told me that since I was still fairly early in labor, they would wait until I thought things were really picking up before they did another cervical check, and attached the monitors. After that, they wanted to attach monitors once every hour or so for about 15 minutes, so that I wouldn’t have to be continuously monitored. I spent most of the next couple hours walking back and forth in my room.

Sometime after one in the morning, maybe closer to two, I got really nauseous very suddenly, and threw up everywhere. I was also beginning to feel pretty miserable in general, and decided I was going to lie down. They hooked up the monitors, and checked my dilation. I was 7 centimeters, and I think they said contractions were about 3 minutes apart, lasting for about a minute. After monitoring the baby and I for a little bit, they removed the monitors so I could move about as I liked, but I did not want to get up again. At this point, I remember there was a wonderful nurse who would sit with me for a while and help me through contractions. She didn’t stay in the room all the time, but when she came in she would stay for several contractions, and talk me through them. My husband spent most of the remainder of the labor alternating between pacing, and asking me if he could do anything for me. I remember he also had a wet washcloth that he would hold to the back of my neck or wipe my face with when I asked. I remember being really hot, and not wanting the sheets on my bed anymore. At some point, they had hooked me up to continuous monitoring. They gave me an oxygen mask, which I didn’t want to use. I think they gave it to me because of the baby’s heart rate, but I’m not sure. I also remember that the thing they put on my finger to monitor my pulse was for some reason seriously getting on my nerves. At some point, after asking the nurses several times if I could take it off, I just removed it myself and told them I wasn’t wearing it anymore. They didn't make a big deal out of it. The nurse just put up her hands in a sort of placating way and said, "OK, sweetie, that's fine." I think that was around the time I was dilated 8-9 centimeters. Somewhere in all of this they broke my water, since it hadn’t yet broken on its own.

I spent a lot of time thrashing about in the bed trying to find a comfortable position, and I didn’t want to get up. I was crying because it hurt so much, but I dozed in between some of the contractions, that’s how tired I was. Finally, I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore, and asked for pain medication. I had been at 9 centimeters the last 3 times they checked, and I was frustrated and tired. They called the anesthesiologist, and then that wonderful nurse came back in. She told me I needed to get up from the bed and go pee, which I didn’t want to do, but between her and my husband they got me to do. Then she had me stay standing leaning against my husband while she changed the pads that were on the bed. Finally, when I got back in the bed, she said, “Let me just check you one last time, dear, before the anesthesiologist gets here.” Lo and behold, I was at 10cm. I think I laughed I was so happy. She cancelled the anesthesiologist, and a few minutes later, I felt like pushing.

They say I only pushed for 20 minutes before my baby was born. I remember that during the pushing stage, the contractions didn’t hurt. My husband helped support me sitting up in the bed, and he rubbed my shoulders in between contractions. I vaguely remember the “ring of fire”, but it didn’t last long, nor did it hurt nearly as badly as I’d been told it would. I remember the awe in my husband’s voice when he said, “I can see his head.” What I remember most is the doctor telling me to reach down and grab my baby, as he guided my hands under my son's arms, and allowed me to pull him the rest of the way out and onto my chest with the final push. I remember my son’s eyes locking with mine as I greeted him, and those few seconds of silence and recognition before he resumed his cries.

My beautiful boy was born January 27th, 2010, at 6:37am, 8 pounds, 1 ounce.

Birth story two

So I was 10 days past due, again, and still no baby. I went to bed cranky and uncomfortable. With my first, I went into labor at 9 days past due, and he was born at 10 days past due. I’d been having pro-dromal labor on and off for days, but so far no real labor. At my appointment four days prior, I was 4 centimeters dilated and had really expected to be in labor by now. After all, second babies are supposed to come sooner, right? Not.

I woke up at 2:30 a.m. needing to use the restroom. When I got up from the toilet, I felt my water break. Yay! I was having contractions, but they didn’t feel any different from the false-start contractions I’d been having, so I waited. They started becoming regular around 3:30 or so. This is when I woke my husband up. We took our time getting ready. I made sure I had everything ready to go for my toddler when he woke up so it would be easy for my dad to take care of him. We were about to head out at 4 a.m. when my boy woke up crying. I laid back down in bed with him to try to get him to go back to sleep. It difficult at that point to lie next to him through a contraction without him knowing something was different. But I did it, since I didn’t want to scare him.

At 4:45 we finally headed to the hospital. By now my contractions were 3 minutes apart, and really hurting. The hospital is typically a 45-minute drive over the mountain, but there was no traffic, and hubby sped a little. We arrived just after 5 and were checked in to L&D at 5:20 a.m. They hooked me up to the monitors for 20 minutes, put in a Hep Lock. Hubby fetched me some ice water to sip on in between contractions. They checked me, and I was 6 centimeters. After 20 minutes, they took me off the monitors and told me I could walk around if I wanted. I had originally planned on laboring in the tub for a while, but at this point it just seemed like too much trouble. I didn’t even want to get out of the bed really. I don’t know how far apart the contractions were or how long they were lasting at this point. I was no longer paying attention to the clock.

I got out of the bed anyway since usually that helps speed things along. Hubby was basically holding me up during contractions. At some point, the midwife (CNM) arrived. She suggested squatting during contractions, but I couldn’t. It hurt too much, and my legs were shaking just trying to stay standing. Shortly after this, I wanted to get back in the bed. Hubby says it was just after 6 at this point. I was feeling a lot of pressure, so the midwife checked me and said I was at 9 centimenters. I started crying. I was upset because I’d gotten stuck at 9 centimeters for almost an hour last time, and I was immediately anticipating the same thing happening this time. Hubby was holding me, and telling me, “It’s ok, you’re doing great, that’s 3 centimeters in an hour, etc.” The next contraction came, and I told the midwife I had to push. She asked me to try not to, but I couldn’t help it, so she checked me again. She said I had just a little lip of a cervix left, but that I could go ahead and push past it.

I only pushed for about 10 minutes total. I started out pushing on my side, but then things got scary. First of all, this was completely different from my first in that the pushing stage hurt, a lot. With my first I stopped really feeling the contractions while I was pushing. This time was the opposite. The contractions hurt worse. I heard the midwife say, “He’s stuck, go get the on-call doc, now.” A nurse ran out of the room, and I think a couple more came in. Apparently we had a shoulder dystocia. They had me turn on my back. One nurse was doing compressions on my abdomen just above my pubic bone, kinda like CPR. That hurt like hell. It hurt more than the contractions and pushing. Another nurse was helping my hubby push my legs back during contractions. Whatever they did worked. He wasn’t stuck for long. I was told less than a minute.

As soon as he came out they rushed him over to the little warming table and gave him some oxygen. Apparently oxygen deprivation can be an issue with a dystocia. So I wasn’t able to hold him immediately like I was with my first. But everything was fine. He didn’t suffer any complications. Once they were sure he was ok, they handed him to me so I could hold and nurse him. They had to cut the cord quickly to get him to the table with the oxygen, but they still handed my husband the scissors to cut it down further once it was clamped. I thought that was nice. Everyone left the room for a while to give my family some privacy. We spent over an hour bonding before they took him to weigh him and clean him up.

And so, my second son was born at 6:29am Sept. 20, 2011, 9 pounds, 4 ounces, after just over an hour in the hospital.

Elizabeth's emergency C-section

Elizabeth shares her daughter Vivian's birth by C-section:

I had a rather nightmarish time in labor and delivery with my first pregnancy. Practically the first thing that happened to me when I checked into the hospital was that an anesthesiologist made me sit down so he could run me through the informed consent forms for epidural anesthesia (which I was pretty sure I didn't want when everything started). After the forty-five minutes of sitting, listening, and pausing for contractions that it took to get through those, I had had enough. I asked for the epidural, and it was the greatest thing going until I started pushing, when it developed a window that couldn't be closed, no matter what we tried. I pushed for five hours, running a fever and convulsing through contractions when I tried to rest, before the OB got out the vacuum equipment and we managed to deliver my son. And then I hemorrhaged, and needed stitches. I was immensely grateful to the OBs and nurses who were so patient with my prolonged pushing stage, as I was terrified to have a c-section, but when my husband and I decided to have a second child, I informed him that I'd prefer a homebirth, and began researching midwives. The day I got a positive pregnancy test, I started making calls.

Two days after that, I stopped. I had spoken to three midwives. One turned out to be a hundred miles from us. One was planning a vacation for around my due date. The third was available, and kindly advised me to avoid crossing my legs for the remainder of my pregnancy, and be sure to keep my knees below the level of my pelvis at all times to prevent the baby from turning breech. With no good alternatives, I scheduled an appointment with my old OB.

Unfortunately, a week after that appointment I began to miscarry. We'd lost our baby. But six weeks later, when I was pregnant again, it occurred to me that I'd gotten some options back - the nice, local midwife would be available around my new due date! I scheduled an interview, at which I learned that she was not licensed, did not work with an OB as backup, and that the emergency transfer plan if my birth went wrong would be to go to the nearest ER. More research dug up a fourth home birth midwife, a Christian Scientist who would not prescribe or administer Rhogam. I gave up on home birth, and found a hospital-based practice of CNMs instead.

When I explained my prior delivery, these midwives encouraged me to go for a "healing" natural birth. Pregnancy made me depressed and anxious, but I increasingly found peace and reassurance in the image of the perfect birth in my head. I would deliver this baby calmly and easily, preferably in the jacuzzi tub of one of this hospital's birthing suites. My husband would hold my hands and rub my shoulders while a midwife assured me we were doing beautifully, and the baby would float gently out of my body and into my arms.

I don't like jacuzzis all that much, and I usually want to get out of the bath before my hands start to wrinkle up. My husband gets nervous and twitchy around hospitals, doctors, and laboring women. The last time I'd been in unmedicated labor, I had cussed through every contraction. But four CNMs and a psychotherapist encouraged me in this fantasy.

When I was diagnosed with complete placenta previa at my mid-pregnancy ultrasound, they assured me that the condition usually went away, and I could keep planning an unmedicated birth. When I wound up in the ER for bleeding at 26 weeks, they sent me home with instructions about pelvic rest and told me not to worry. I would still have my natural birth. When I came back to the ER for more bleeding at 29 weeks, and was hospitalized for a week, they continued to reassure me. The problem would go away. We didn't need to discuss the possibility of c-section yet. I was home on strict bed rest, but I would still have a natural birth.

At 32w3d, I felt a gush of warm fluid between my legs, and got out of bed to see if I was bleeding again. When I stood up, more fluid gushed down my leg and splashed on the floor - it was definitely blood. I waddled to the bathroom and got a maxi pad, which overflowed about a minute after I put it on. I woke my husband and told him to call 911. The next hour or so is kind of blurry. I unlocked the front door. I grabbed a bag. At the 911 dispatcher's instruction, I lay down on my side by the door to wait for the ambulance. It took them twenty minutes to get there, and then we realized that my husband couldn't come with me. He needed to wait for the babysitter who was coming to stay with our son. At the last moment before we headed out, I realized I needed to know where we were going. The hospital I'd planned to deliver at was not the closest appropriate facility, and probably wasn't an appropriate facility at all - when I'd come in with bleeding at 29 weeks, they'd had to transfer me to a hospital with a level III NICU. We agreed that we'd go to that hospital again, and the EMTs helped me into the truck.

The EMTs didn't seem to have any idea what placenta previa was. They wanted to do a quick pelvic exam to be sure I wasn't having the baby right away, but once they got a good enough look at my pants to realize that they hadn't started out dark red, they decided that their best course of action was to drive.

I was the last person to realize I was going to have a c-section that night. My husband figured it out while waiting for the sitter. My mother realized it as soon as he called her to say I was bleeding again. The hospital started prepping for it when the EMTs radioed that they were bringing me in. I don't know what I thought would happen at the hospital. That they'd give me a magic shot and hang me up by my ankles? I didn't realize I was having the dreaded c-section until midnight, when a surgeon who I thought looked like Hawkeye Pierce told me that the OR would be ready in a few minutes. (At my six week follow-up, I discovered that the surgeon looking absolutely nothing like Alan Alda. I was shocked.)

The surgery I'd feared turned out to be an incredibly peaceful experience for me. My husband had a harder time with it, but they didn't hook him up to a drip with morphine. The anesthesiologist was soothing, the nurses were sympathetic, the surgeons tempered their professionalism with the occasional dry joke and just enough small talk that I was confident that nothing was going wrong. At one in the morning (I made it to 32w4d by a hair), we heard our daughter cry for the first time. The nurses cleaned her, and wrapped her in a blanket before bringing her to our side of the blue curtain. My husband held her where I could kiss her cheek for a moment before they took her to the NICU. I sent him with her, and lay back to think about names and be sutured back up. The assisting surgeon told me that she was taking the time to do a double layer of sutures, so I'd have the best possible chance of a VBAC later if I wanted. I was tempted to tell her she could fasten me back up with staples and carpenter's glue for all I cared. I was done having babies (I'm still feeling done).

My mother was waiting for me in the recovery room, where the anesthesiologist gave me drugs to stop the post-morphine itching. I was wide awake, and I wanted nothing more than to see my daughter. My mom gave me the report from the NICU, and we chatted until I was declared de-drugged enough to move to the post-partum ward. Before we went there, they took my gurney up to the NICU floor, and parked it by my daughter's isolette for a few minutes. My energy was fading, but I was so glad to see her.

I went home from the hospital four days later, and Vivian spent 32 days in the NICU. She needed three doses of lung surfactant to get through her first day, but was considered a "feeder-grower" by the end of her first week. She's been incredibly healthy ever since. She's now a few days from her second birthday, sweet, smart, and too fast moving to take a picture of. The attached photo is of her first "outing" from her isolette.

Thank you so much for running your site. It's such a valuable voice and resource for the way that women usually give birth in this country, and a testament to the work of mothers and the medical professionals who aid them through labor.

Hospital delivery of twins

Amy shares her twin sons' birth story:

Here's my story:

It actually starts out way earlier than the birth---I have PCOS and I'm infertile as a result. Ultimately, my husband and I did IVF to conceive. We didn't want multiples, so we agreed with the RE, to have only one transferred. Imagine everyone's surprise when we saw two at the 7-week ultrasound! So, we knew from then that they were identical, and immediately the fear kicked in. What if I miscarry? What if they are born too early to live? What if they are born too early to live without significant health issues? How would we afford childcare for two at once?

The pregnancy went along fine until the beginning of the 3rd trimester, when my cervix started funneling/effacing. I was pulled from work, and was home on modified bed rest. At 30 weeks, pre-term labor started for real. I was admitted to the hospital, given nifedipine and hoped for the best. Labor was stopped, but not before I was 2 centimeters dilated. I remained in the hospital and things were stable for two weeks.

At 32 weeks, another round of pre-term labor. It was stopped again, but then I was dilated to 4 centimeters. They kept me in the hospital for two more weeks, and at 34 weeks pregnant, I went home, back to bedrest for the remainder of the pregnancy. The boys held out until 36 weeks.

At exactly 36 weeks, my water (baby A's sac) broke spontaneously at 3:30 a.m., Jan. 22, 2009. So my husband and I went to the hospital. At that point, the type of delivery was based on fetal positions and of course, the babies tolerating labor. They did a quick ultrasound when I got to labor and delivery, and both boys were head down and doing fine, so my OB said it was fine to try for vaginal delivery.

The next 12 hours were pretty boring. I had constant EFM due to the high risk of delivering identical twins---one external monitor, one internal. Also, for some reason they couldn't find the results from my GBS test, so they assumed it was positive and gave me the antibiotics. I was comfortable enough in the bed, and was able to unhook myself from the monitors to go to the bathroom. Contractions weren't very strong.

After 12 hours, the OB on call suggested pitocin augmentation. The contractions were very irregular and not real strong, which was due to carrying twins and my uterus being so distended. When they gave me the pit, they also placed an epidural catheter, but did not put any drug in. I was told to just speak up if/when I wanted the epidural and they could immediately administer some. After 4 hours on the pit, things started to hurt, especially in my back, so I asked for the epidural. It worked immediately, and the contractions were no longer painful, though I could feel pressure every time one happened. I was able to nap a bit. Finally, after about 20 hours of laboring, I was ready to push.

Hospital policy was to deliver multiples in the OR, just in case the need for an emergency C-section came up. So, they wheeled me over there. Up to that point, a nurse, a resident and my husband were with me. The nurse and the resident were very nice and were coaching me during the pushing.

In the OR, the OB was also there, a team of nurses for both babies, and maybe even more people, but I'm not sure. Despite the large audience, by that time, I didn't care. Even though the epidural made it so the contractions didn't hurt, the pushing was another story. I found it quite painful, especially the "ring of fire." Not sure why I could feel the pushing but not the contractions, but there it is. Anyway, I pushed at Baby A for about two hours (I think), but he was turned a bit to one side and then he started having late decels, so they hauled him out with the vacuum. They pulled while I pushed. He came out right away then, and was fine. He was taken off to be weighed, measured, checked, etc., and I rested for a few minutes before resuming pushing.

In those few minutes, Baby B, who had been lodged in my rib cage since 20 weeks pregnant, dropped right down and it was an amazing feeling...I could breathe again! They did another quick u/s to make sure he was still head down. He was, and he was out in four pushes. Babies were born on Jan. 23, 2009, and were 12 minutes apart. Both babies could breathe fine, so neither went to the NICU, though they were observed closely in the regular nursery for an extra day to make sure they didn't lose too much weight or get too jaundiced. At birth, A was 5 pounds, 2 ounces, and B was 4 pounds, 9 ounces ... when we took them home 3 days later, A was 4 pounds, 11 ounces, and B was 4 pounds, 3 ounces. But they were stable and eating, they regained their birth weight in a normal amount of time.

About eight hours after they were born, I hemorrhaged, but there was a nurse in the room at the time, and she got a team of many people in there in seconds. It was scary, but they had me on pit and O2 and stable very quickly. I am thankful that I was still in the hospital when it happened ... the quick response prevented a transfusion (or worse).

Anyway, since I lived in that hospital for a month on bedrest, I met all the nurses on the L&D floor. They were all very nice to me, and when I came back to the hospital to have the babies, I had already met the nurses that were there during my L&D. When I had the hemorrhage, one nurse that I knew from before was holding my hand while the team did what they needed to do. She was very reassuring. The whole L&D was very calm ... there was no screaming or rushing around. The doctors and nurses were very considerate and I was asked for consent before they did anything (vaginal exam, pit, epidural, etc). The OB explained why he wanted to do what he wanted to do.

I don't plan to have any more children, but I did, I would definitely use the same OB and deliver in the same hospital. Getting the babies here safe and sound was everyone's top priority, and it was a nice bonus to have an overall pleasant experience.