I love reading birth stories, and would love to share an example of how a birth not going to plan can actually be empowering (and really, what birth actually goes to plan??).

I had an appt at 41+3. My last cervical check was around 40 weeks, where I was fully closed and 50% effaced. I'd spent the week going on 3 mile walks, gyrating on my birth ball, having sex, eating dates and guzzling red raspberry leaf tea...surely some progress had been made. Nope, I was still fully closed, and the midwife said she'd be surprised if I went into labor anytime soon. We prepared for induction at 42 weeks at the nearby hospital, which crushed me. My fears were based mainly in that I have extremely low blood pressure and am not a good candidate for an epidural, and I've heard that inductions can be quite difficult to do without pain medications. And TBH, I'm not comfortable in hospitals and was hoping to do most of my laboring in the comfort of my home.

We left the center, I cried, and then we got into action, making an appointment with my acupuncturist that day. It was so comforting to see her again, as she was I believe integral in helping us conceive. She guessed I'd be having a girl and the baby went crazy when she stuck the needles in my foot.

Later my mom and stepdad, who had been in town since my due date, came over and we all walked to a Christmas tree lot down the street and bought a small tree (bush) for our apartment. I was having nerve pains in my groin the whole walk, which I'd had, but never as frequent or intense. At home, my mom brought up my grandma's first birth and said it was traumatic, and I realized my dad's mom's first was too, as well as my mom's, and I felt scared.

At night my husband and I listened to the Hypnobabies "Come Out Baby" track, then had a great talk about surrendering, and I felt determined to break the trauma cycle and enjoy this birth no matter how it happened, which required letting go. My husband fell asleep, and I realized the BH contractions I was feeling were coming pretty regularly and frequently. I timed them at roughly every 6 minutes and got so excited I couldn't sleep so I labored in the living room, breathing in the new Christmas tree. I woke my hubby up at 6am so he could call in to work. The contractions at this point were still very manageable and exciting, and I was able to easily work through them using the Hypnobabies hypnosis we had learned. I started a baking project I'd planned (I'd heard it was good to be on your feet in early labor), but couldn't finish it so my husband did. I remember being on my hands and knees on our cushy kitchen mat in the middle of an intense wave and seeing my hands covered in chocolate and wanting to lick them. My husband says my face was covered in chocolate, too 😂.

The drive to the birth center took an hour, but I listened to my hypnosis track the whole way and don't remember much except remarking at how beautiful the sky was - heavy with clouds about to rain. I was getting pretty vocal at this point, exhaling with loud "aaahhhs", so I think the drive was a little stressful for my hubby.

When we got to the birth center, the only midwife I didn't jive with was there to greet us. Hubby told me afterwards she was just there because the other one was running late, but I didn't know and was pretty upset. I was 4cm dilated, and she confirmed I was in active labor so I could stay. Pretty early on she found during one contraction the baby's heart rate decelerated a bit, which she didn't like so she strapped me up to the fetal monitor (the other MW told me later this was NOT what the birth center does, but this MW was new and didn't know. I believe me being tied to the bed and not being able to move around slowed down my progress here). The baby's heart rate was fine for the next few hours and finally our preferred midwife showed up and the other left. I was only 5cm at that point, which was discouraging. Looking back now, I can see how my discomfort with the first midwife really affected me. If you're familiar with Ina May's Guide to Childbirth, she talks about the Sphincter Law, and I believe I didn't progress that whole time because I didn't feel safe with her.

Now free from the monitor, I got up and moved around as much as I could. My husband, who was an immense support throughout my labor and basically acted as my doula, applied intense counter pressure to my back with every wave. Eventually they filled up the tub and let me get in, which was almost heaven, but I think it more just took the edge off. I really appreciated it either way, and did not want to leave. They were still checking the baby's heart rate every other contraction with a Doppler and so far, so good. I was on my knees, my hands gripping the back of the tub for about 2 hours, during which my husband squatted uncomfortably behind me to put pressure on my back during contractions and talked me through some visualizations and hypnosis scripts. I was so tired and I thought I still had a ways to go. I told him I didn't think I could do it and he'd reply, "But you are doing it" and that helped. I also kept apologizing for being so vocal - I didn't expect to need to make so much noise - but he and my midwife laughed and told me this was my birth I could do whatever I needed.

Around 9pm I was feeling very pushy and my midwife checked me and told me I was complete (and had a "bulging bag of waters"), which totally shocked me. But the baby's head still hadn't engaged. Soon after, she was listening to the heart rate, and I could hear this one was very slow. She calmly told me to get out of the tub, we were transferring to the hospital. She said if I were a second time mom she wouldn't be worried, but with the baby so high still, she thought we still had quite a bit of time and they might need a vacuum to get her out as quickly as she thought was needed. I was a little scared, but my husband held it together and told me everything would be fine. My midwife told me I needed to hold back pushing, which felt so impossible at this point and the only time in the labor I would describe as actually painful.

They dressed me quickly, my poor husband gathered all our things in a flash, peed for the first time in hours, and helped me to the car. All with me having powerful contractions 30-60 seconds apart that made me want to push so badly. Somehow he got me into the backseat of our car on my hands and knees (I could feel the baby in my bottom and couldn't sit) and followed the midwife for the mile-long trip to the hospital with me roaring the entire time. Halfway there, I hear a loud POP and my pants are soaked. "It popped, it popped!" I screamed. (I thought I was telling him my water broke, but he later told me he wasn't sure what exactly popped and this scared him, poor guy!). We park in front of the hospital door and no one is there waiting for us despite the midwife having called ahead, so the two of them walk me in past a security guard who decides not to stop us (smart man), up the elevator and *ding* out we walk into the waiting area of a quiet lobby - a midwife, my husband, and a roaring woman with her pants completely soaked (me). The receptionist hands my husband a clipboard and asks him to fill out a form. He just stares at her, but she insists, so I lean into my midwife during the most intense contraction yet, worrying that I was bursting her eardrums by how loud I was. Suddenly there is a swarm of nurses and a wheelchair, but I tell them I can't sit down (I can really feel her coming out now), but they get me on, and I'm just hovering on it holding myself up with my hands as they wheel me away, my husband gripping me so I don't tip over. I will never forget the look on the faces of the people in that waiting room!

Somehow in a matter of seconds they undress me and get me on a bed on my back despite my protests (I really wanted to be on my hands and knees), and I'm surrounded by nurses and one of them tells me, "Okay mama, I need you to push," and I look at her like she's an angel, "I can push?!" and three powerful pushes later, our baby was on my belly (less than 10 minutes from when we pulled up to the hospital). My husband is elated, "We have a baby! We have a baby!" Then, "Wait, what is our baby?" And they look and say it's a girl, and he says, "We have a daughter!" and he cries. She was covered in meconium, so they're pouring water over me and her to try to wipe it all off, but it doesn't stop us from loving all over her, poop and all. She was peacefully looking around at first, but they needed to make her cry because of the meconium, so my husband starts singing the song he used to sing to her in my belly (Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds"), and I join him, and the room goes completely silent and she stops crying and just stares at us.

My midwife later apologized to us - she didn't realize how quickly it would go and we could have safely delivered at the birth center - but we tell her how grateful we are to her for not taking any chances. Maybe this could be considered a "traumatic" birth experience, but whenever we tell the story to whoever listens, we laugh hysterically and I feel so trumphant and powerful, and the cycle of traumatic births feels broken. We say we got the best of both worlds -- a very comfortable and peaceful labor complete with candles and a giant birthing tub followed by a super quick delivery with postpartum care at a hospital.

Regardless, we are totally smitten with our baby. She's already 2 months, but here she is shortly after her wild journey down to Earth 🥰

And now: