Positive Home Birth Story - My Second Baby
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My first baby was born at home. It was a 23 hour long labor with lots of ups and downs. (You can find that birth story here.) I was in and out of the birth pool, there were points where I was completely stalled, I took mini naps between contractions sometimes, it took me a couple of hours to figure out how to push and then a couple more hours to actually push. It was challenging, empowering, exhausting, exhilarating and all sorts of things in between.
Ultimately, I had my perfect baby in the comfort of my own home and, moments after my son was born, I looked up at my husband and said, “I could do that again!”
I'm pretty sure he thought that maybe I'd lost a little too much blood and had gone a little kooky.
I was dead serious. Every moment of difficulty and all of the emotions I had to go through were absolutely worth it and I was willing to do it all again.
When I found out I was pregnant with my second baby, it was a no-brainer. Of course I was going to have another home birth. Only this time, I was determined to actually have the water birth I had imagined for baby #1.
Aside from extreme exhaustion during my first trimester, I had an uneventful and lovely pregnancy. The only issue that came up was something called “Marginal Cord Insertion” which just meant that at my 20 week ultrasound the umbillcal cord was connected toward the edge of the placenta instead of being connected right in the middle. According to the ultrasound tech, they want it to be at least 2 cm away from the edge. Mine was 1.9 cm away from the edge. I decided not to worry about it. My baby was measuring well at every appointment with my midwife and I decided to opt out of the follow-up ultrasound at 32 weeks.
Baby boy was growing well. Maybe too well.
My first baby was born 9 lbs 6 oz. When I was nearing the end of my thirst trimester with baby #2, my midwife was guessing that this one was going to be even bigger. No problem. My body makes big babies. I'm alright with that. I would just give birth in the water this time and that would make it easier.
Two days before the due date
Third trimester tired is one thing. This was something else. I had no energy. I made my toddler breakfast and collapsed on the couch. Mentally, I was totally great. Physically, I couldn't do a thing. I spent the whole day as a couch potato, watching movies with my kiddo.
I had a suspicion that my body was building up a reserve of energy and that maybe I'd go into labor the next day.
I was exactly right.
The next day
At 5 am, I was jolted out of sleep with a MONSTER contraction. It was quick. I caught my breath. I barely had time to recover when WHAM! Another, very strong contraction.
Okay, I thought, it's just starting strong. It'll slow down.
Nope. Wrong.
This continued for the next two hours. One after another, lasting thirty seconds and about five minutes apart. Finally I decided I should probably shoot my midwife a text to let her know what was happening.
I gave her the update and went to take a shower.
My husband came in to the bathroom to check on me. At that moment another contraction swept over me and I fell to my knees. Probably, I was making wounded water buffalo noises, because he looked visibly concerned. The contraction ended and he asked me how I was doing.
“Great!,” I said, “just gotta shave my legs then I'll come downstairs!”
“You sure you're up for that? Do you want me to stay with you?”
“I'm fine! Maybe go make us some breakfast and I'll be right dow-” and I fell on my knees again with another massive contraction.
You see, someone had told me that it was a safe bet to estimate that your second labor would be about half the length of your first. I'm pretty good with arithmetic. My first labor was 23 hours long. I was about two hours into this one. I had time.
I finished showering and decided to trim my toenails. My husband walked by as I was doing so. “Seriously?” he asked. I held out my hand and leaned on him for the next contraction. It ended, I finished my toes, then I decided I was ready to go downstairs for breakfast.
Standing at the top of the stairs, I realized that I didn't think I'd make it down without having another contraction. Hubby came to rescue me. He held me as I waddled my way down. I got to the first floor as the next wave hit me like a ton of bricks.
Now you'd think, at this point, I would have realized that things were moving faster than I had expected. But no, I was still somehow convinced that I had PLENTY of time before the baby came.
I had a couple bites of scrambled eggs. That was all I could stomach. I labored for an hour or so in my living room, contractions coming without pause. My toddler was awake now, and with each contraction he would rub my back. It was super sweet.
At about 10 am, I went to the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet, holding my husband's hands, suddenly the (already very powerful) contractions went nuclear.
I wouldn't even call it pain. It was like tsunami waves. And I was riding them with energy. Lots of energy. And my poor husband was holding on for dear life.
I dove into every contraction with passion. I could feel my baby quickly moving down. I was moving (maybe writhing is a better word) with every wave, pushing against my husband, throwing him around with a strength I didn't know I had.
Somewhere around this time, my parents arrived at my house. They helped get things set up and kept my toddler occupied.
At 10:30 I lost my mucous plug. We called my midwife. I was dismissing her concern because I was somehow still convinced I had more time. I had a contraction while she was on the phone. It ended and she told me I was a lot further along than I thought. She hung up, got in her car and hit the road (she lives about an hour from my house).
Contractions kept coming, intensity kept increasing, and I finally accepted that it was almost time to meet my baby.
One problem. The pool was nowhere near full. This became my focus. I was determined to birth in the pool. I needed “nature's epidural” - water.
Every few contractions, I'd ask how close the pool was to being full. “It's getting there!” my husband would reply. I saw the doubt in his eyes, though. It might not get there in time.
At 11:30 my midwife arrived. I was in the middle of an exceptionally intense contraction. She quietly came over to the bathroom (where I was still laboring on the toilet and throwing my husband around) and waited for me to take my post-contraction recovery breath.
“How are you doing?” she asked, gently.
I told her I was doing pretty well, all things considered.
She asked me if I felt “pushy”.
“Nope, not yet! The pool isn't ready for me yet.” I had a one-track mind about this pool.
I dove into my next contraction. And suddenly my body started pushing. My baby wanted out and clearly did not share my concerns about the pool.
We decided that if I was going to have any chance of holding off until the pool was ready, I needed to get into a more gravity-neutral position. I waddled over to the living room and got on my knees, leaning over my birth ball. With the next contraction, I felt my baby begin to crown.
It was a battle of wills, at this point. I was team “no pool, no baby”. My body and my baby were team “let's f'ing goooo”.
I did something with my muscles and pulled him back up the birth canal a bit. I didn't even know that was possible, let alone how I did it.
I thought to myself that I could hold out a bit longer.
The next contraction proved me wrong. There was no holding back. I didn’t need to push. I surrendered to it fully and out came his head, followed immediately by my water breaking, and, seconds later, the rest of his body came flying out. Before I even registered what had happened, my midwife untangled him from the umbillcal cord, and handed me my baby in between my legs. As I clutched him against me, it finally sunk in. We did it. He was here. It was over. He was perfect.
I delivered my placenta about 45 minutes later, and he latched on and nursed around then too. After a very intense seven hours of labor, everything after his arrival was so serene. We spent an hour on the couch, skin-to-skin, while everyone cleaned up.
In conclusion
Despite not having the water birth I so desperately wanted, the birth of my second baby was perfect in its own, unexpected way.
He was born 8 lbs, 7 oz. I didn't tear at all this time. My recovery was incredibly easy (unlike my first postpartum experience which was months long) and I felt completely back to normal within just a few weeks.
You really never know how labor is going to go. And you can't use your first as any sort of gauge as to how subsequent ones will be. Of course you do your best to plan and prepare, but when the time comes, you kinda just have to go with the flow and trust your baby and your body.
Thanks for taking the time to read my story. I hope you enjoyed it!