I thought Silas’s birth story would be a fitting first-post for the “birth” of this blog! *(Caution: I’ve included a few graphic anatomical terms for accuracy. Read at your own risk!)*

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“If you were this far progressed at 39 weeks, I would send you to the hospital to have your water broken; I would not let you go home.”

Sitting with our midwife in the doctor’s office at 36 weeks pregnant, Michael and I were shocked by what the midwife told us after my first anatomical check: I was already 3 cm dilated and “very effaced.” Our midwife, Kathy, seemed surprised that I had been progressing without feeling many Braxton-Hicks contractions. What was also surprising, however, was that she was so ready to offer medical interventions. We lived an hour from the hospital, so her main concern was that when I did go into labor it would probably go fast. However, I knew I wanted to have an unmedicated birth—that’s why we chose to see a midwife instead of an obstetrician. Michael and I had spent the last 6 months researching, reading books, listening to birth stories, watching documentaries, and asking almost every mom we know about her thoughts on natural childbirth. We learned above all things that God has uniquely designed a woman’s body to carry, birth, and support the life of her child. The more a woman can learn to trust her body and God’s design for childbirth and know that she is capable of bringing her own child into the world in relative peace, relaxation, love and joy, the more “successful” she will be at having a natural, unmediated, vaginal birth.

We were hooked. The more I studied and the more Michael got excited about supporting and coaching me through labor, the more confident and calm I felt about having this type of birth. (Disclaimer: I do NOT believe there is any moral issue regarding medical interventions in labor and birth. But having talked with women who have done it both ways—excluding those who had epidurals that just didn’t take—all of them would choose to have another natural birth over a medicated birth. That was enough for me.)

After that 36-week visit when our midwife acted as if I could spontaneously go into labor any minute, it became incredibly hard to wait on the baby. I know now why many women opt out of ever having a cervical check. It definitely creates expectations. The expectations only intensified when we found out that I was 4 cm and 90% effaced the next week. I was also told my bag of water was “bulging” and the baby’s head was very, very low. He had been head-down since 28 weeks and my sore pelvic bones could attest to how low he was. I had also been losing the mucus plug over time (with “bloody show”) since 36 weeks. Again, the anticipation was seriously building.

Anticipation turned to anxiety when, at 38 weeks and 3 days (still pregnant, still about 4cm) Michael’s employer assigned him to work in Henderson, NC—3 hours from home—staying in a hotel overnight Tuesday through Friday. My anxiety turned to near panic when his company told him his assignment the following week would be in Richmond, VA—5 hours from home! If he agreed to go, he would be arriving back home around 11pm the night of my due date. The only alternative was to take unpaid time-off, which would shorten the amount of time-off we could afford after Baby came. With our midwife (and birthing class teacher) convinced I could go into very quick labor at any time, this option seemed not only very sad and lonely, but incredibly risky: even if Michael could drop what he was doing on his job site in Virginia and rush straight to the hospital, and even if he made it in time for the birth itself, I would still have to labor for at least 5 hours without my best friend, my birth coach, my baby’s wonderful father. This quickly became NOT an option for us. So what do we do??

…Well, our midwife did say she would break my water at 39 weeks… Would we consider going that route??

I began to pray intently, crying out to the Lord for wisdom. The week Michael was working in Henderson I went to stay with my oldest sister, Kelly, who was studying to be my doula. More than anything, she was an incredibly supportive resource about natural birth (having done it herself!) and a great sounding board as I processed all of my thoughts and concerns leading up to the birth. (And my nieces, Blakely and Sydney, were great distractions!)

Praise God for sisters!! The Lord was so good, so near, and so comforting in all this upset, and I knew the Holy Spirit was drawing me close, inviting me to trust that He had a plan in all this, even if it was different from our own plans.

At the end of week 39, on December 13, we had another scheduled appointment with the midwife. Michael would work for half of Friday in Henderson then drive to Albemarle to meet me at the house, and we would ride together to Charlotte to the doctor’s office. I had been praying all week that we would know what to do after this appointment: either go straight to the hospital to have them break my water, or trust the natural process and hope I’d go into labor before Michael had to leave for Virginia.

Just to throw one more kink into things, on the way to the appointment I got a call from the doctor’s office: our midwife would not be able to see us that day because she had to go attend another birth at the hospital; could we reschedule for next week? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? NO WAY!! I asked if there was ANYONE else who could see us today at 3pm, and we were reassigned to see a random Ob from the practice. Such is life.

After some routine questions came the moment of truth: the cervical check revealed that I was not 4, not 5, but **6 cm dilated!** And 100% effaced!!

“And you’re sure you’re not in labor??” the doctor gawked at me. Uh, yep. Not in labor.

Even before we told him we lived an hour from the hospital he said he was going to call our midwife (who was already at the hospital) and let her know we were coming to have my water broken.

I asked: “If they break my water tonight, how confident do you feel that I could successfully have an unmedicated, vaginal birth?” I had heard the stories about the “cascade of interventions” that often occurs when labor is induced prematurely and natural contractions don’t pick up immediately. I knew I did NOT want Pitocin: this synthetic form of oxytocin tends to make contractions so much stronger and more painful and prevents the mother’s brain from producing its own natural pain-fighting hormone cocktail. And I definitely didn’t want a cesarean: recovery is normally longer and harder, and sometimes you miss out on the early bonding immediately after birth. And above all, I wanted to ensure the health of my baby. (Side note: the 6-8 bouts of hiccups he was having every day gave me confidence that his lungs were probably developing well! I had had a very healthy pregnancy and Baby was measuring right on average for size, so I wasn’t really worried about his health if he came a week early.)

To my question, the doctor responded: “You’re 60% of the way there already. You’re as good a candidate as they come.”

When we gathered ourselves and came out of the exam room, 4 nurses had congregated in the hallway. “Congratulations!! We heard you’re going to have your baby today!” one of them said. “Are you sure you’re not in labor?” asked another. “It my birthday today; you’re DEFINITELY going to have a baby before midnight!…And you’re SURE you’re not in labor??” said another nurse. Maybe that was my 15 minutes of fame. While I had had a healthy, uneventful pregnancy, I had also gained over 50 lbs and never exercised regularly. I thought it was those super-thin, active preggos who have quick labor, not me. It was a mystery how I had progressed so far, and I definitely felt like a medical anomaly.

Walking excitedly out of the doctor’s office—feeling some pressure to go to the hospital but still unsure of what we wanted to do—I realized I was really hungry. We decided to head to Zoe’s Kitchen for a quick dinner, and on the way we contacted our families to update them and seek advice. When we got to the restaurant I called the hospital to let them know we were not coming immediately; we still wanted to think about our options. We would let them know within an hour what we decided to do.

“I’m sorry, you need to come here IMMEDIATELY,” the nurse said urgently. “You are a liability, and its extremely dangerous for you to be walking around 6cm dilated. Your doctor ordered you to come here and you need to come back to the hospital RIGHT AWAY!”

Uhhhmm….I’m not sure if they can really force me to induce labor, but the urgency in the nurse’s voice was enough to tip the scales for me: “Michael, let’s just go have a baby!!” We quickly (and nervously) ate our “last meal,” and made our way back to the hospital. Our families were all in route and we were getting really excited! We checked in at the hospital (which is really fun when you’re not in labor!), and got settled into a room. Our first nurse, Sarah, gathered some preliminary data on the fetal heart monitor and confirmed that no, indeed, I was not in labor. (Thank you. As if I would not notice…)

Our midwife, Kathy, came in about an hour later and we talked about all the options. She agreed with the doctor: they would be stunned if I did not immediately go into labor after she broke my water. When she checked my cervix, she said with a look of awe, “Ya know, I could stretch you to 7cm.” Holy. Cow. Seven centimeters without ever having gone into labor. So we went for it. One crochet hook and a warm gush later, we were past the point of no return. I got up to use the bathroom, and before I even made if back to the bed, I felt the first contraction. Within 10 minutes, the contractions were regular and increasing in length and intensity, about 4 minutes apart. Alright! This is really happening!! My sister, Kelly, arrived first, followed by Michael’s mom. After about an hour, my mom and other sister, Casey (who was 7.5 months pregnant!), arrived. By that point I was in serious pain. Well at least we knew I wouldn’t need Pitocin!

Michael, Kelly and I had practiced many different breathing and massage techniques for labor. But since I technically started labor in the “transition phase” (7cm and beyond, notoriously the fastest and most painful stage of labor), I didn’t want anyone to touch or talk to me AT ALL. Part of me felt bad that there was nothing for anybody to do, especially Michael. I knew he really wanted to help me cope with this crazy-terrible pain. But all I wanted was to sit on my knees on a folded up yoga mat with my arms folded on the bed (or the labor ball or Michael’s lap) with my head down, eyes closed. I breathed, I moaned, and I MOVED. I could not keep my hips still and you would have had to sedate me to get me to lie down in bed! I tried sitting on the labor ball: nope, not enough range of motion. I tried laboring in a warm bath: I had one contraction and it was AWFUL. I was too confined! I sat on the toilet for a while and rocked back and forth and rolled my neck around. That was the only alternative when my knees got tired of the floor. I know what they mean now when they say that the birthing mother will withdraw into herself. I said very few words and had my eyes closed through 95% of the labor and birth, but I was still amazingly aware of everything that was going on in the room. It was incredible to just relax and trust what my body was doing.

When the contractions became most painful, I kept feeling like I wanted to let go and cry, but I knew if I didn’t stay in control of my emotions everything would fall apart. If I let myself get distressed, the increased adrenaline would lower my body’s production of oxytocin and slow down the labor. I had to stay on top of it.

The pain level continued to escalate until I felt like I could not handle it anymore. I wanted to cry…I wanted to scream…for a while I felt like I might die…  At this point my mom reminded me: “This is as hard as it will get, Sammi. These contractions wont get any worse!” And she was right. I knew the end was in sight. Throughout all this, I never even considered an epidural. Maybe it was because I knew it was already too late, but I’d like to think part of it was will-power and faith. I had trusted the Lord to get me this far and I knew He had equipped my body and would equip my mind for the hardest parts yet to come. I had to just keep pressing on.

After 2 hours of HARD laboring I started feeling an urge to push. Michael raised the head of the bed to 90 degrees, and I knelt over the back of it and held onto his hands. “I think I feel the urge to push!” I said. “I think you’ll KNOW when you need to push,” my mom replied. “Well then, I NEED TO PUSH!” The midwife I had just come back and I could see over my shoulder that they were getting the warmer and other equipment ready for the baby. (So exciting!!) Kathy quickly checked me again: 9 cm. Almost there. I knew that the only risk to indulging this first urge to push is that I could risk causing an inflammation of that last remaining centimeter of cervical tissue. This means that if you push too soon, the cervix can actually close back in and prolong labor. No thanks, I do NOT want to drag this thing out!! Kathy suggested that I push lightly on every-other contraction. They were about 30 seconds apart now and so unbelievably painful. Pretty soon the slight urge to push became a desperate, head-to-toe, all-encompassing demand from every cell of my insides that I MUST push this thing OUT!!!! The most terrifying part of the whole experience was the sounds I began to make at this point. I went from light breathing in the beginning, to deeper, heavy breaths, to low moans, to louder moans, to deeper and louder cries, to thunderous growling and yelling! I intentionally kept my eyes closed because I knew I sounded completely psychotic. (Imagine a bear fighting a tiger fighting a woman in labor. Yep. That.)

And this is when things got crazy. I was still on my knees with my backside to the midwife. I was grasping Michael’s hand with both of mine and bearing down HARD when the pushing urges came. At once point I was so overcome with the pressure and pain that my whole body was convulsing and I bit onto Michael’s finger. Really, I just craved the sensation of something pushing against the front of my teeth—I didn’t bite very hard. But later Michael told me he immediately decided he was willing to sacrifice a chunk of his finger to the cause! What a man!!

Soon Kathy suggested that I turn over. (No way! I thought.) “Where do you want us to put the baby if you push him out like this??” “I’ll roll to the right!!” I huffed. It seemed like a legitimate plan to me! I really didn’t want to be on my back! But a few contractions later she demanded that I turn over; apparently there was a small lip on the anterior of my cervix that wouldn’t open up because the weight of the baby had been putting pressure on the same spot this whole time. I complied. Michael took my right leg under the knee, my mom took my left. And I continued to push.

After a couple pushes I sensed the energy in the room getting really intense. Between contractions, I opened my eyes and looked at Kathy. “You’ve GOT to get this baby out, Samantha. On this next push you’ve GOT TO GET HIM OUT.” I knew immediately what she wasn’t saying. I had read enough birth stories to know: the baby’s heart-rate was dropping as he was being squeezed through the birth canal. I know that this is a serious concern, but I also know several moms and babies who have experienced this and successfully delivered before any permanent damage was done. So, by the grace of God, I didn’t panic. Not at all. In fact, I thought, I can’t push him out on the next contraction. But give me 2 or 3 more and I know I can do it! I knew we were close! I could feel right where he was!! And with the next push, he wasn’t out–but he was crowning. They wheeled around a mirror and told me to look. Yep, there was the head. That was motivating! With the next contraction and another ear-splitting howl, I pushed again. “You’ve got to get him out NOW, SAMANTHA!!” Kathy said. This was getting serious. Sometime during these pushes, Kathy told me she’d have to cut me. “Do it!!” I always thought this would be the pinnacle of pain in an unmediated birth. But that small cut was kind of like stubbing one toe while the other leg is being run over by a train. It was a minor sting in comparison to my whole body being split in half from the inside out.

Michael told me later that the baby’s heart rate dipped down to around 40 bpm during this time. (Whew. I’m so, so glad they turned down the volume on that fetal monitor!!) He also said that sometime during these few pushes, Kathy told one of the nurses to call the OR and get ready for us. Praise be to God that this is the one major detail I missed during the birth! Every one in the room was terrified. Except me.

After one more push, I opened my eyes to see a blonde nurse I had not noticed before standing 6 inches from my face: “Ok, Samantha, STOP SCREAMING. Tuck your chin down. Hold your breath. NOW PUUUUSH!!!” What great advice! I had no idea how much power I was losing through all the yelling. Once I kept my mouth shut and channeled the desperate agony into muscular power, we really made progress! But Baby still wasn’t out. On the next push (I think only the fourth since Kathy first told me I HAD to get him out) my mom, both of my sisters, Michael, his mom, and two nurses all moved in and started yelling and cheering: “COME ON SAMMI!! PUSH, SAMMI, PUSH!! COME ON, YOU CAN DO IT!!!!” With one final tsunami-force push, I watched in the mirror as his whole head emerged! Some people say that after the head the rest of the body sort of falls out, but that was not the case for me. I had to push again pretty hard to deliver the shoulders. Then—THERE HE WAS. All of him. But he was rather blue…and limp. Kathy turned him on his belly and rubbed his back with two quick swipes. I heard a gurgle. I saw a squirm. WHEW. He was ok.

She laid him on my chest. “Oh my gosh, Oh my gosh, OH MY GOSH.” I kept saying. I held one hand on his back and with my other hand held his head.

Oh my gosh.

   

Silas Judson Lawing arrived at 9:08pm. He was 7 lbs, 10 oz, and 20 inches of PERFECTION. (With the exception of a serious cone-head. Poor baby. He was upside-down for 12 weeks and then squeezed tightly through a very small opening!)

“You did it. THERE’S OUR BABY,” Michael whispered low in my ear. It was so surreal. Only 2 hours of labor and 30 minutes of pushing, and he was HERE.

Technically, this birth story should be ending now, but the next part was so unexpectedly intense that I have to include it…

“Did you ever think you could love someone so much?” Michael’s mom said from over his shoulder.

Umm…no…but, “I’m still really hurting!” I said. I’ve heard many people say that after the delivery all pain is forgotten and some women don’t even notice the delivery of the placenta. Not the case for me! I continued to have really strong contractions, and I knew that since Kathy needed to start stitching me up, she would have to hurry along this third stage of birth. We had maybe 5 or 6 minutes of reprieve before she began tugging on the cord. “Gosh, this REALLY HURTS,” I said quietly. Everyone was gathered excitedly around the bed and we were so relived that my baby boy was healthy but I was so confused by the continued pain. Its supposed to all be over now. But this still really hurts! Kathy asked who was going to cut the cord. I knew Michael didn’t really want to, so I asked my mom if she wanted to. She was thrilled! Then after a hasty delivery of the (HUGE) placenta, Kathy gave me 4 numbing shots and started stitching.

Kathy continued stitching as I held my baby close on my skin. My mom asked if I wanted someone to take him for me—they could all see better than I could that I was seriously bleeding. And I was definitely hurting. But holding my precious baby boy, my sweet, sweet love, was the best treatment for the pain. I was reminded that all of this agony has a purpose. And every second of it is worth it.

After the stitches and a Percocet, I took a few more minutes to gather myself. There were 5 family members in the room with me but 11 more in the waiting room. Still, it was over an hour after the birth before I was ready for visitors. But once everyone came in (and the Percocet kicked in), I finally felt relaxed. I was so glad to share our little wonder with all the people we care about!

Thanks to those pain meds, I was able to really enjoy the following few hours. Even when we finally settled down at 2am for our first night, I was so thrilled that our Baby Boy had finally come, I couldn’t sleep! I kept watching him peacefully breathing through the clear wall of the basinet beside my bed. That tiny face, that golden hair. He was so perfect!!

While my recovery in the following week was tough, we have been unceasingly grateful that God has given Silas to us. He is a precious gift, an undeserved blessing. We pray daily for the Spirit to empower us to be good stewards of his life. We desperately need wisdom to raise Silas to know and love and fear God.

We look forward to sharing more about this incredible journey called parenting!!