I never thought it would happen to me. In fact, my doula even casually mentioned at our first meet and greet, “You won’t have your baby in the car. Mentally, it’s practically impossible”. Our chosen obgyn and hospital was 50 minutes away. I chose my doctor because he is extremely pro evidence based birth and the facility is as natural birth friendly as you could find in a hospital, without being a birthing center. This was my second (and most likely final baby) and I really knew what I hoped to get out of this birth. Realistically, I had also tried to prepare myself to accept that birth plans don’t always go as planned. So my ultimate plan was to have as natural a birth as possible, avoiding induction and getting support from my husband and doula.

I kept a very active lifestyle while pregnant, exercising four to five days a week. I ran until I was 34 weeks but stopped due to pelvic floor pain. Exercise came easily because I love it and it’s a large part of my career. I hoped that this would help contribute to a quick and easy labor.

I assumed my daughter would arrive late as I was induced with my son at 40+6. I had tons (and I mean TONS) of painful Braxton hicks that began to increase in intensity and consistency as I got closer to my due date. The day of my due date, I allowed my OB to check my cervix and I was only dilated to one. Most of us know that means nothing but regardless, we all hope for a higher number. 😉 My hope was to arrive at the hospital in active labor, doing most of my labor at home. My OB asked if I was interested in having my cervical membrane swept and I agreed, knowing that it only sparks labor in 25% of pregnancies, if their body is ready for it.

So on December 5th, at 40 weeks, later that evening, I thought my water had broken. It was in fact my mucus plug like I’d never seen before. It was slippery and clear with some blood in it, which I asssumed was my bloody show. My doula advised me that’s what this was. It continued to seep out over the next few hours- slowly. Kinda creeped me out because I’d never experienced it like this. My doula assured me that it is not unexpected after a cervical sweep. So I tried not to read too much into it. My Braxton Hicks were really consistent and hurting and I noticed I began to get a bit of back pain / achiness. This freaked me out because I had horrendous back pain with my labor induced son. He was posterior (sunny side up or face up on his exit) and the labor pain was excruriating. I knew that I couldn’t tolerate that again without an epidural and had prayed that my daughter would be in a good position to exit and her face would be down. The back pain eased at some point and I felt relieved. I did start to get lower abdomen pain that began like BH but seemed to transition into real lower pelvic pains. I timed them and they were 40ish seconds long and ten minutes apart. My doula was looking for a pattern of one minute long contractions at seven minutes apart. She led me to believe that it could be false labor due to the sweep. I labored throughout the night, trying to sleep and I stopped timing them. At one point, I started timing them again because I couldn’t really sleep through them. I remember at one time, sitting up ramrod straight due to the pain. I finally headed downstairs to eat some cereal and lay on the couch. They were painful but I was breathing and moving through them. I still wasn’t concerned because my doula didn’t seem to be. We were conversing through text.

My son woke up and I had him get my husband. I was hurting now and couldn’t help him get ready for school. In hindsight, this is when we should have left for the hospital. My husband came downstairs and made breakfast; I’m not sure he was completely aware of how far apart my contractions were. He was distracted by getting our son ready (talking craziness about taking him to school instead of dropping him off with my parents on the way to the hospital and sticking to the plan) and trying to get us out the door. I suddenly had a contraction that hurt worse than the others. I stopped timing because the app was messing up my phone. I asked my husband to call the doula and ask her what to do. He called her and she said she would come over. I am such a people pleaser and afraid to burden anyone. Despite the pain, I found myself saying over my husband, “no rush!” Again, hindsight - what the HECK?! was I thinking!? That WAS the time to start rushing. Before the doula arrived, the contractions had intensified and I really had to stop and focus to get through each one. I went upstairs (with difficulty) and grabbed a sports bra, deodorant and my Fitbit (to try to time them because they seemed awfully close). I had a hard time walking between contractions and had to really focus to get back down the stairs. I made it almost all the way down the stairs when I realized that they were really close. As each contraction came on, I leaned down onto the stairs and repeated over and over, “I can do this...I can do this”. The contractions were two to three minutes apart. And they were intense. This is when I freaked out a little in my mind. I tried calling out to my husband to tell him how close they were but he was busy getting the car loaded and my son taken care of. He came and met me on the stairs and I tried to explain how close they were. We walked toward garage and I had to stop at the door. The doula arrived and I was in pain, in the middle of a contraction, explaining how close they were and shaking my head that we waited too long. I had an intense need to have a bowel movement and insisted that I needed to go to the bathroom. I struggled to walk back to the half bath with the doula’s help. She encouraged me to just go back toward the car. She told me we could stop at a gas station and I looked at her in horror. There was no way I would be able to ambulate to a nasty gas station bathroom in this shape. She must have seen my freaked out look because she followed up with, “No, that’s not a good idea”. She once again encouraged me to the car and said, “or else you’re going to have this baby at home and I don’t think you want that”. I told her I couldn’t make it to the car. Contractions were about two minutes apart at this point. She told me to walk really fast when the pain stopped. I staggered to the car with the help of my husband too who was saying “ready to transport”. Our poor son was worried about me and I had been assuring him earlier that this was all normal and the same with him (except it wasn’t quite, due to being induced, Him sunny side up, intolerable back labor which called for an epidural...).

I managed to get into the car between contractions, laying on my side, reclined, with a microwave warmed bean bag warmer on my lower abdomen and a towel in my hand (I had started sweating profusely when the doula arrived). Fortunately the doula has encouraged my husband to grab some towels just in case. My husband called my mom as we were in route, telling her to meet us at the hospital. My mom wanted us to drop our son off on the offramp on the way south. My husband refused saying we were just going to GO. We couldn’t stop. I don’t think my Mom understood how close my contractions were. At this point, I believe I was in transition. Keep in mind that our hospital was 50 miles south and it was the middle of morning commuting. In the back of my mind, I had that thought that we wouldn’t make it. There were closer hospitals in proximity to us but I had initially committed to this specific doctor at this specific hospital because they were natural birth friendly. My doula didn’t suggest going local (10 minutes away) and my husband got on the freeway and started driving to the planned hospital like a maniac. He remained SO calm. Later, he told me how he was panicking internally. Our son was complaining about being bored and wanting to be entertained. I was in a daze, I imagine, with the glassy eyed look of someone in transition. I could hear everything around me but it took a lot of energy to speak. My husband started driving on the shoulder with his flashers, periodically weaving in and out of heavy morning traffic, as speeds way beyond the limit. I recall saying to him, “Just PLEASE be careful!” He responded, “Sweetheart, this is one thing I’m good at.” Sheesh. Men and their driving egos. Every time I got a contraction I would lay back into my husband’s shoulder, grabbing the upper handle above my door and brace myself, trying to breathe the best I could. I couldn’t find my water bottle and my husband said it was somewhere in the back. He handed me our son’s, who immediately started complaining that I was drinking his water (little turd! Hehe).

My body started involuntarily pushing during the contractions. I’d say I had three good ones with pushing. It felt like I was pushing a bowel movement out. Who knows? I probably was too! 😳 It was the most bizarre feeling. Sort of a good feeling despite all of the pain. Helped me get through the contractions because at this point, they were intense. Like I said, pretty sure it was transition.

Out of nowhere, we saw a Sheriff on the freeway traveling alongside us. My husband rolled down his window and started shouting at him that I was in labor and that we were headed another 30+ miles southbound to the hospital. I think he was freaking out.

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