Jennifer Blacklock

I want to share my birth story to normalize VBAC (yes, even after 3 c-sections!), home birth and unmedicated birth, and so others can gain confidence in their own ability to birth naturally. Yes, there are risks to VBAC and HBAC (just like there are risks to repeat c-sections), and yes, birth is most often very painful; but natural, physiological birth is still so, so worth it and so attainable. Labor is hard, but, like I tell my kids, you can do hard things!

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Labor started (finally!)

I’d woken up at around 11:30 with contractions that were soon about 7 minutes apart. It was interesting- Perry, our 5 year old, had come into our room about a half-hour before and stood in the dark by my bedside; when I asked him what was the matter he said he had a weird feeling. “Are you scared?” I asked. He shook his head “no”. We hugged and walked back to his own bed and went back to sleep. Right after that, Willa, our youngest, started kind of whining and whimpering “mama…. Mom….” But never fully woke up, just called me like that a few times and went back to sleep. Then I started having contractions. It was like the little ones knew!

I tried to sleep since it was early but was too excited and wanted to see if it was real. It had been about three weeks now that I’d thought labor would be “that night”. I had just been so sure I would be early. Just like I’d been so sure the baby would be a boy (keep reading to see if I was right about that one!)

I got up and stood around and sat around, timing contractions to see if they would keep on with different positions, and they did (finally!) which was the answer I gave Justin when he asked how I knew it was real when I woke him up. We both got up and excitedly started getting things ready- making coffee and getting dressed, etc. I wrote a note to the kids, telling them it was finally time and how excited I was to see them later; I made a checklist for them of things to be done throughout the day while Jesse was watching them like feeding the animals and packing some clothes for the night (with the plan being to stay in a hotel for a night after the baby was born). I called Jesse and whispered with excitement that it was time. She whispered back with matched excitement that she would head right over. I had already texted my midwife, and she’d said to come to the center.

Our plan for “home” birth

This would be my second vaginal birth after 3 c-sections, so, like with my previous birth, we decided to travel to El Paso for the delivery so we could have a “home” birth with a midwife and be near a good hospital if we were to need one. Sadly and unexpectedly, my midwife from Willa’s birth passed away when I was five months pregnant, leaving us uncertain as to whether we’d be able to find another willing midwife. After being respectfully turned down by two different ones, God led us to the perfect midwife for us and our situation. Though not technically able to use the birth center she owns, (because of the c-sections), she was able to let us use a room there for the birth, which took away the burden of finding and timing an AirBnb.

Early labor

On the rare occasion that Justin and I drive together in the early morning, I have the (not very realistic) thought that we should schedule it in sometimes- like “super-early date morning” because we always have great conversations. So it was a nice 2 hour drive. I also tried to rest a little but can’t say I succeeded much. We stopped and got some breakfast snacks at a gas station, and I seriously contemplated getting some cheap, crappy mascara because I’d forgotten my makeup and wanted to look cute in any labor pictures that would be taken (ah, what lofty and naive expectations I have in early labor.)

We met Ambar, the midwife, at the birth center around 4:30 AM. I had continued to time contractions in the car, but they had become pretty inconsistent. She assured me that once labor started, it wouldn’t stop, and not to worry about it slowing down some. She offered me some herbal concoction- warm and strong- which I accepted and took four doses of (held under the tongue for 30 seconds then swallowed, repeated every 15 minutes) while resting next to Justin in the dark room. Ambar had gone to nap (I imagine midwives are masters of squeezing in naps anytime the opportunity is there). I had texted my friend Barbara too, and when she got there around 7:30, Ambar got up and asked if I wanted her to check my cervix. I had started feeling so worried about labor stalling/stopping/being false and having gotten everyone up so early for possibly nothing. I decided to be checked, just for peace of mind either way, whether I was further along than it seemed or not dilated at all.

I was so thrilled when she said I was 3-4 centimeters! Things were still slow, but at least I knew it was really happening. She also did a membrane sweep at that time, per my request. I was ready and wanted to progress. After weeks of false labor, passing my due date, and taking some homeopathic remedies to try to help things along, I was so ready to meet my baby. Since labor had started around 11 and my midwife and a friend had both said to expect a labor about half the length of my “first” (actually fourth, but first vaginal, so like a first), which would be about 13 hours, I told Justin, Barbara, and Ambar that I wanted a baby by lunch time.

Justin went to get burritos at “Rafa’s burritos” at Ambar’s recommendation, she said I would need my strength. The burritos were unexpectedly about 16 inches long, with homemade tortillas, and very delicious.

I had stopped timing contractions but Barbara started at some point, while I was doing the miles circuit that Ambar suggested. It started with a super awkward position— chest and head flat on the bed with my hips twisted and knee over the peanut-shaped yoga ball (for 30 minutes on each side)— and finished with a long walk up and down the stairs outside while the landscapers mowed. We talked about baby names, Barbara sharing the ones she and her husband had considered over the years, and Justin and I realizing our different tastes have grown even more different. I joked with Justin that we should name the baby “Feather” because I had seen two tiny, beautiful feathers during focused contractions on this walk. Feather was much too unconventional for Justin’s taste. His suggestions of Daniel and Matthew were much too conventional for mine.

By that time contractions were quite strong but still bearable enough to just breathe through. Barbara and Justin could tell I was having one without me saying anything, but I didn’t need to make any noise yet. They were about 5-7 minutes apart by then. After the miles circuit I wanted to rest; but contractions were getting stronger and stronger. Ambar suggested I sit backwards on the toilet for a few contractions; “you want a baby today? Toilet”- with a tone of certainty in her Puerto Rican accent.

I knew I was nearing the point of losing my sense of modesty but wasn’t quite there yet, so I labored alone on the toilet for about half an hour, 5 or 6 contractions. I could hear Barbara and Justin chatting in the room, which was a comfort to me; I could also hear Barbara tell Justin how far apart my contractions were, which was comforting too, sort of grounding.

Labor was hard now. I was groaning through contractions and feeling like the end was surely near. Laboring backwards on the toilet, I remembered that my friend Sarah had sent me a song that was always on her “labor playlist”- Leaning on the Everlasting Arms. I listened to it and hummed through contractions instead of moaning through them, which was nice. This was probably the most comfortable part of hard labor- the position, the humming. But I became restless. Back in the room, I was still restless, I wanted a new position but nothing seemed right- a stack of pillows on the bed- not high enough; leaning on the little dresser- uncomfortable facing the wall; laying, leaning, back pressure- I was just getting to that point where it was overwhelming. When Ambar saw me next she said my face had changed- earlier she had said I looked so peaceful she couldn’t tell how I was doing with the contractions- now the peaceful, unreadable face was gone.

I had put my period absorbing underwear and pants back on before coming out of the bathroom. When I walked out I felt a little gush, and thought it could possibly be my water breaking, but nothing more came so I assumed probably not. I didn’t mention it because I didn’t think it was important. When I did eventually tell everyone, the midwife gave me a little paper strip to test if it was amniotic fluid, I went into the bathroom and pressed it onto my period underwear and it turned blue, which meant it had been my water breaking. I was still doubtful but took it out with a grim countenance- I was just feeling grim in general by that point, no more excited early labor- and Ambar nodded certainly to say it was, in fact, amniotic fluid. Justin and Barbara both lit up excitedly, in contrast to my glumness.

I was weepy, crying every now and then and saying I didn’t know why. Barbara encouraged me that it was just what I needed to do. I wanted to be checked to see how much progress had been made, sure it would encourage me further since I must be getting close. I said I was worried that I wouldn’t be, that it would be like last time when I thought I was getting close but was only at 5. Inwardly, though, I was certain I was at least around 7, close to transition, if not already there. I thought maybe that was where all the weepiness stemmed from. Ambar checked me while I laid on the bed; “you are about… the same, about a four, five, yeah…”. Oh, I was so distraught to hear that. The possibility I had dreaded was reality, I was only half way there! I could hardly stand it. I cried and did not feel uplifted by any encouragement.

Active labor

Ambar said she had felt the water bag making a sort of lip around the cervix and that she could “sweep” it to remove the lip so that baby could better engage and press on my cervix to hopefully speed things along. I said yes, to do it- anything to get through this a little faster. I needed to take off my pants and underwear again and I remember Ambar saying “what if you don’t have any pants anymore? Then everything can just”, she moved her hands in a big sweeping motion, “come out”.

As soon as that was done, labor kicked into full gear. Contractions became nearly unbearable in their intensity. The midwives filled the tub for me- a beautiful, big claw foot tub that I had dreamed of laboring in since I had seen it the first time we visited the birth center. I’m sure it was better than laboring out of the tub, but it was no “nature’s epidural” as I’ve heard water called. I wanted it to be hotter, I would’ve taken it scalding hot, but it felt just barely warm enough, and in between contractions I would shiver. Megan, the young midwife who had started coming in at some point that I didn’t really know, said the shivering could also just be part of transition. Of course, by this point (when I actually was in transition), I thought transition would never come after the discouragement of learning I was only 4-5 a while before.

Labor now was agonizing. Contractions were close and painful. I had been hopeful (aren’t we all?) that maybe, possibly, I could experience a “pain-free” birth.

I felt nauseous between contractions (though I never threw up). Chelsea, another midwife, had gotten a dim lamp for the bathroom and turned off the bright light. Justin was there too, near my head, holding my hand and reminding me to relax- that was one of the most helpful things throughout the whole labor, he would say “relax your jaw, relax your hands, relax your neck” and it gave me something to focus on and gave me the ability to release tension, something I had felt impossible to do last time but is the thing that helps most with pain (my midwives afterward said Justin was a great doula). I asked if Barbara would come in if she felt comfortable (me being in nothing but a bra in the tub), she did and held my other hand and reminded me, when I would start to thrash from side to side or shake my head, to find my focal point- something that was also incredibly helpful for the pain and intensity. I focused all my attention on the little ring at the end of the water spout.

I would stare hard and straight at that little ring during contractions while the midwife “ooh-ed” from the foot of the tub. She didn’t tell me to follow or anything, but I did, and I knew it would help me to stay “low” from reading things like Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth. I ooh-ed and focused all my energy downward. I would think “low, low”. I couldn’t exactly feel the baby moving down, it was strangely more like I could sense that baby was getting lower and lower. It was very strong and intense, the most focused thing ever, to be reclined in the tub, staring at that ring, and sensing the baby moving down while keeping my sounds as low and steady as possible.

My inhales were sharp, and the exhales were broken ooh’s. My breathing became so forceful that it made my hands stiff and tingly, but there was nothing I could do to change it. I would squeeze Justin’s and Barbara’s hands with all my might during contractions, but in between the tingly hands were so bothersome I asked them to roll my wrists to try to relax them.

Justin had been reaching over me to hold my hand, and it started to bother me desperately (everything felt either desperate or annoying by that point), so he climbed over the tub to the other side (it was angled in a corner, without enough room to squeeze past). He looked terribly unstable in his cowboy boots standing on the high sides of the ceramic tub crossing over! (But thankfully he didn’t fall!)

Pushing

I wondered if being on my back might slow things down, that’s when I turned into more of a forward leaning squat and felt a slight urge to push. I said I thought I would need to push soon and wanted to get out and lay down, because I didn’t feel I would be able to push in the tub. I don’t know why. Somehow I got out and onto the bed between contractions, wrapped in a towel. I was on my side, remembering my last birth when I was staring at the sticker on the lamp that said “MAX” for what seemed like an eternity; now I was facing a lamp again, focusing on a tiny crystal prism face.

When I’ve read or heard about the “urge to push”, I always imagine it to be insanely strong, like a great and unstoppable heaving, but that’s not what it was like. It wasn’t “right there”, like going to the bathroom is, instead it was very deep in me, more like I was trying to push my stomach or lungs out through my bottom (and felt just as impossible as that would be). I felt desperate. Soothing voices sounded painfully loud, everyone’s efforts to comfort felt irritating. I wanted somebody to do something to help, but of course there wasn’t much to be done. I remember saying I thought I needed to push and that I needed someone to tell me how. I guess that showed some of my subconscious fears.

I was wishing that I could somehow have relief (like drugs!); I would’ve undoubtedly taken an epidural if I’d been in the hospital (one of the big reasons I’m glad I wasn’t). Ambar was near my head and I remember asking her, whining in desperation, “isn’t there anything we can do?” Ambar, her brow furrowed with sympathy, shook her head and clicked her tongue with a gentle, “no…”

I started really pushing, there on my side on the bed. It was a blur, but I know I wasn’t being coached at all, just encouraged, though I didn’t really hear much or anything of it. A few pushes and the head was out. A couple people, I think Justin and Chelsea or Megan were holding my leg up to make space, since I was on my side. Another push and baby was all the way out.

It was all worth it, baby is here!

Everyone helped me lay back and put baby on my belly/chest. It was 3:30 in the afternoon- so a few hours past my lunch-time wish, but still a much shorter labor than last time. The midwives pointed out how amazingly quick the second “half” of labor was— from when I’d been checked and only at 4-5 cm, to baby born had only been an hour and a half! Someone said “girl” in the midst of an effort to get baby colored up and crying. One of the midwives told me to talk to baby; I wasn’t worried or scared because of having watched and read plenty of birth videos and seeing that it’s normal for babies to take several seconds or minutes to get pink and breathing. Justin said afterwards that he had been scared though.

But baby did start breathing and crying perfectly. I was so happy and relieved, so glad the labor was over, so glad our baby was here. I asked, “did someone say it’s a girl?” I thought they must’ve seen wrong. One of the midwives said “oh! I don’t know, I thought you said ‘she’, I thought you knew. Let me check…”

Yes, it was a girl! So all my thinking of her as “Theodore” while I was pregnant turned out to be pretty funny!

I delivered the placenta, feeling a little scared to push it out, but with reassurance that I could do it and a gentle tug, it was out. The cramps afterward were very painful, but it was all okay now. No more desperation, no more agony. My baby was here! I noticed that she had such a sweet, round little face, a perfect little circle. Justin commented that she had chubby little arms, and Ambar, who had been a little concerned earlier in the pregnancy that baby and I weren’t gaining enough weight, said, “well, baby has no neck, so that is good!”

Going home, home

We called Jesse and the kids for them to hear baby cry; they were so excited! They started heading to El Paso to meet us so we could stay in a hotel together that night. However, as everything settled down I decided I’d really rather be in my own bed and home that night. The midwives checked baby and me fully- all was well (and no tear for me!), baby weighed in at exactly seven pounds. We all guessed her weight to see who would be closest, and Ambar guessed it right on; she did a little pose of triumph, and the other midwives laughed and asked how she always gets it right.

Justin got us some takeout dinner and cut the cord after a good long while of baby getting every drop of life from it. The kids arrived and met their new baby sister (and had a moment of disappointment that the hotel plan had changed), and after being cleared to leave (my pulse was pretty high for a bit but went down after some additional rest and electrolytes), we all headed home.

I was so glad to be in our own bed with our sweet new baby. What a blessing. What a miracle! Birth and new life are such miracles. And God had seen us through another vaginal birth after 3 c-sections, something that, though not nearly as terrible or dangerous as doctors and hospitals make it out to be, still held its risks (like all births), and something that not everyone gets to experience, so something I’m deeply grateful to have been led and protected through. Praise God!

After a few days calling her “baby”, we finally landed on the name Olive (her perfect round face helped seal the deal!). Olive means “olive tree”- a symbol of peace in the Bible. Her middle name is Ariyah which means “lion of God”. So, peace and strength, just like the way she was born. Praise the Lord for giving us strength and peace and for bringing this new little miracle into the world!