Part 3: My 54-Hour Labor and Home Birth Story
Hey there! I am FINALLY sharing the last bit of my natural home birth story. If you haven’t yet, make sure you read Part I and Part 2. first!
Contractions intensify
After the bath, I felt a bit of a mental boost. I was exhausted, I was in a lot of pain, but I felt calm. I had a renewed belief that I could do this.
Several more hours went by, and the contractions came, it seemed, every other minute. I sat on my ball and breathed through them. I did hip circles. I was motivated. I was exhausted. I’d almost forgotten a baby was coming at the end of this.
Whenever I went to the bathroom to pee Amy asked if I could stay for a contraction ON the toilet. I agreed. Every time I went to the toilet I stayed for one or 2 contractions. The pressure was unbearable on the toilet. But I knew it was helping me progress. The toilet and I were, needless to say, still not friends.
Tiffany also went out to get me a bag of IV hydration. My labor had been so long, and I knew I hadn’t eaten enough and was definitely dehydrated. I needed sustenance to finish the task, maybe this would help?
When she came back I was sitting in our nursery, which is really just a sunroom connected to our bedroom, Amy by my side, holding my hand as I endured more contractions. I had had my doubts about splurging on that Pottery Barn Recliner, but damn, was I glad I had it now.
Tiffany set up the IV bag, but I was so dehydrated it was difficult to get it in the vein (which is saying something, because usually my RN friends admire me for my gorgeous veins).
She did eventually get it in, but it didn’t last long because I started having a weird cold feeling in my throat… not a full on allergic reaction but she said we should probably take it out because we didn’t want anything weird to happen. Not after all this time. Let’s get me to the finish line. Sigh. We tried.
It felt like things progressed well over those few hours and I honestly was doing much better mentally…
but as hours went on I was feeling like I would start struggling mentally again if things continued like this. It did feel encouraging that I was making progress even though it ~sucked~ having the contractions come every 2-3 minutes.
We did another cervical check around 4:30pm.
This time it wasn’t AS painful, except when the next contraction came while she was still in there. My cervix had come forward. I was not quite to 10 cm; I was fully effaced and “very very stretchy,” but there was just a “little anterior lip,” which I didn’t know the meaning of and didn’t care to ask, just that it seemed like that meant I wasn’t quite “there” yet.
Tiffany had deferred breaking my water over the last few hours because it seemed like I was making some progress and getting into a better headspace. But at this point, we discussed the option to either proceed with breaking my bag of waters to get contractions stronger and closer together
OR,
Tiffany said I could try to go ahead and push, even though it was a bit premature. She said I was nearly there, and she could stretch that little anterior lip out of the way easily, especially if I were on all 4s. So we did a quick trial so she could see if that would be effective.
Pushing against nothing
Well, not to brag, but I pushed really well, according to Tiffany. (it’s almost like I’m a… professional at this?) After the trial run, I was ready to get on my back again and have her break my water, but she said I should keep on pushing as my contractions came.
One of the things about natural labor (and part of the allure for me) is that your body is supposed to tell you when it’s time to push. An urge is supposed to come, and you listen to it and start pushing. It felt awkward to push when I didn’t feel like it, but I also trusted Tiffany and agreed that it would be best to get this baby out before I tapped out with another sleepless night. Maternal exhaustion is a real thing.
So, I started pushing. It was about 5:30 pm. For those counting, we are now 51 hours into this ultramarathon.
I was on the bed, on all fours. Matt sat in the bed next to me, Amy was on the side of the bed. Tiffany was behind me with her hands in my cervix, stretching the lip out of the way. My mom and the doggy, Ash, were in the living room.
Within 2-3 pushes, my waters broke on their own. THAT was a lot of body fluid. Looking back, it feels good that even though I would have agreed to having my water broken (under these circumstances), it was the right move to wait. Bodies know what to do in birth. Even in a birth like mine.
I changed positions to right sidelying. Amy held my leg up, Matt held my hand from the bedside.
At this point, the contractions were coming about every minute or 2. I pushed with the contractions. I rested in between. Even in this unbelievably intense moment, I literally started to fall asleep between pushes. It became clear that I needed to change positions, and quick, before I gave into the exhaustion.
We went from the bed to the nursery, which is actually attached to the back of our bedroom. Matt sat on the glider behind me, I sat on Tiffany’s birth stool, leaning into him.
Looking back, I really am glad I spent this climactic part of Reed’s labor in his room.
I got back on my hands and knees on the floor of the dark, moody nursery. I was simultaneously more aware and present than ever while also drifting into a world that was just me, alone in the dark, the only one who could finish this task. I was Eleven in the Upside Down, but still like, in a salt bath in the real world? I was in two places - I could hear the voices of my support team, gently encouraging me, but I was also utterly alone in the darkness.
Tiffany’s hands stretched into my cervix as the contractions intensified, and every time a contraction came, I was too tired to push, but the only way to deal with the pain of these contractions now was to push into them. Something about that was empowering.
But it also felt impossible to continue on much longer. And it was disheartening to feel like I was pushing into nothing.
(I remember it feeling so dark in this moment - I think there was maybe a lamp on. I was so confused by this photo, because I remember darkness. I asked my photographer, she confirmed she used a flash. Now that is skill, because I had no clue in the moment).
I groaned that I couldn’t do it anymore. And I truly didn’t think I could do it.
I heard blurred voices from Amy saying “you already ARE doing it” and Tiffany saying “you’re going to have to dig really deep” or something like that.
As a side note about birth trauma… this piece is still an area of confusion for me… because as pushing went on, it was horrible, just horrible having her hand in there because pushing into the contraction was painful enough, then her stretching me just intensified it. Not to mention… it feels violating. But… I consented to it. And I consented with full trust in her, not like in a way I felt forced. I felt safe with her, and knew she had my best interest, not her own, at heart. It felt necessary to get to the end of this birth, and yet, it was horrible, and never something I would choose freely just to speed up labor. Birth trauma is confusing.
The Upside Down
This was my moment of reckoning. I had never wanted to get “out” of anything more in my life, and from my vantage point, I didn’t have any options.
It felt impossible and impractical to go to the hospital. It was way too late for that. How could I even get myself to the car? (I’m POSITIVE that in a true medical emergency, I could’ve… and I know Tiffany would have let me know if that were the case)
Through closed eyes, feeling in utter darkness, I envisioned all the support I had around me. They were all there for me. I had all the support in the world.
But it could ONLY be me.
I was the person who had to get this baby out. No one else could do this job.
I was tasked with this , it had to be me.
In that moment, that truth felt soul-crushing. Utterly impossible. There was no way out. I had to keep going.
It was a spiritual reckoning. Begging God for help, begging him to make this baby come out. Because I was at my end. Physically, emotionally, I had nothing left. Literally nothing.
And I felt so, SO weak. But I had to keep going.
In that moment, something happened. Once I realized the only option was to move forward (probably wouldn’t be safe to give myself a C section… but I DID consider it), all I can say is that God gave me some kind of other-worldly strength to keep going.
So I kept pushing.
I had very little concept of time while pushing. But I didn’t necessarily feel like I was getting close.
Tiffany was saying I was getting him below the pubic bone. I was only mildly encouraged by that. It felt like I was pushing against nothing, pushing nothing. I didn’t want to get any hopes up of being “close” because for all I knew, I had hours to go.
We went back to the bed. I laid on my left side this time. Amy held up my leg. This part was all a blur. I remember almost nothing.
Finally, Tiffany recommended that we go to the toilet. I remember just thinking No No no no NO. For the love of God, not the toilet. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Please.
She asked calmly, “Why don’t you want to go to the toilet?”
I said it just hurt SO bad. The pressure was unbearable.
I just remember her saying something along the lines of “I think if we want this baby out, it’s time to really lean into that pressure.” Or “that pressure is what is going to help get the baby down, it’s time to lean into that.”
I knew she was right. And I hated her for it.
I got my ass off the bed and went to the motherfucking toilet.
Mount doom, or THE MOTHER FUCKING TOILET.
Here is where things really started moving, literally.
I’m not sure how long I pushed on the toilet. But damn. It was intense. I’ve said that word so many times writing this story, and truly, it’s honestly hard for me to describe exactly how intense this part was - it was the most intense physical experience of my life.
But something amazing also happened on the toilet. Something horrible, and also amazing. (Terrible…yes…but great- name that movie)
My body started to kick in. Literally.
A contraction would start, and I would start pushing as I had been, and then as I ran out of breath with the push, it was like my body kicked me and started pushing too, and I could push even more into THAT feeling.
After pushing into “nothing” for ~2.5 hours, things were happening. I could actually feel the head. It was an unbelievable feeling. Impossible to describe - impossible to endure, and yet, I was doing it. Horrible, but intense. Powerful. Awful.
Knowing that if I could push into that, lean into that intensity, I would actually be FINALLY getting closer to birthing my baby, to being done with this.
I screamed from places so deep inside of me, it almost felt like it was outside of me. The wildest and most primal sensation I’ve ever experienced. If I’m still Eleven, I’m like, closing-the-gate level screams, every ounce of energy and power radiating from me to push this baby out.
Tiffany was saying we were getting “closer.” But 53 hours into labor, “closer” was all relative; I had no idea what “close” meant. And the cruelty of this labor was that I felt like I must have been close SO many times already.
So I wasn’t getting my hopes up- I fully assumed I’d have to keep doing THAT level of intensity for at least another hour or two. Like sprinting a marathon, after running 5 Ironman triathlons. Without food.
Finally, Tiffany said it was time to get off the toilet so I “didn’t actually birth the baby INTO the toilet.” Still, I didn’t let myself believe we were actually super close. I thought it would be another hour at least of this unbelievably, unbearable intensity. We moved to the bedroom.
The Birth Stool
Since the toilet position was working so well for me (I am reluctant to admit), I got on the birthing stool, right next to the bedside. I had Matt behind me to support me, Tiffany on the floor in front of me, and Amy on my right, helping Tiffany hold her flashlight with one hand and her other on my thigh.
I Could see my mom in the living room out of the corner of my eye, but I honestly was oblivious… including when my brother in law, who had flown in from Knoxville for a Thanksgiving visit that day, walked in to my screams after being warned by my mom AND Matt that things were… REAL. But that’s another story for another day.
it was only about 20 minutes longer.
Eleven Closing the gate in Stranger Things season 2 is the closest thing I can compare to this experience
I wish, and don’t wish, I had a video recording my screams. They were the deepest screams of my life. I was Eleven sending One into the Upside Down. It was like I was screaming with ALL the rage I had built up over a lifetime of all the painful things that had ever happened to me. Or even just the rage of being a woman. It was like this weirdly powerful release. But at the moment, it was the worst thing I’d ever experienced. I raged with it like a wild primal woman.
It was mysterious… somehow, even in the trauma of this birth, it was also part of a larger, deeper healing experience, screaming out pain I’d held deep in my body for years. Not the healing experience I asked for, but, maybe, necessary for deeper healing? I’m still processing this…
I started crowning.
I felt it. I looked down, horrified at what I saw. I screamed in horror, pain. I didn’t actually know what was happening in the moment, I was just like… what just happened to my anatomy?!
Amy kept saying “you’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe,” her hand on my thigh.
I was getting “closer.” But this time, dazed as I was, I knew I was really close.
I am not really sure how many more contractions it was. It wasn’t many. But each one packed a huge punch, a huge scream. An animal instinct, a wild form of myself coming out.
I barely remember the moment, but finally, Reed’s head came out.
[I also remember thinking, in all my spare time during this pushing stage, does the body come out easily after the head? Or will I have to push really hard for that too? For some reason I did NOT know in that moment and I COULD NOT remember. I assumed I was going to have to work as hard for the body as I did for the head. The inner dialogues I had in moments like this are hilarious to me]
With one final push, Reed’s body slid out of me- face and belly up, looking right at me.
Tiffany caught him and handed him to me.
An exhale.
Possibly the biggest exhale of my life.
I held his slippery, bloody body against my chest, my neck.
It was 8:14pm.
Tiffany said maybe don’t hold him so high because the cord wasn’t long enough. Rookie move.
The Cleanup
I remember standing up to move myself into the bed, and blood fell onto the floor. I later learned I actually hemorrhaged.
Everything was a blur. I got into bed, I suppose. Was I still holding the baby? I don’t remember. I put the baby on my chest.
I knew eventually I’d have to birth the placenta, but I didn’t even want to think about it. I was just in that moment.
I felt kind of numb. I was aware I had birthed my baby, and he was on my chest. But it was more of this relief that the whole thing was done (besides - dammit! I had to also birth the placenta!)
Tiffany gave me a shot of pitocin in my thigh and in my upper trapezius to help stop the bleeding. She later told me that she had anticipated the hemorrhage because of the long labor.
Amy went and got a little muslin blanket to wrap around Reed.
Amy started wiping the blood off my neck and chest with baby wipes.
Tiffany checked the baby’s heart rate while I held him on my chest. I lifted him up to look at his face. Take it all in.
It was time to birth the placenta.
I honestly don’t remember any kind of urge to push or contractions. My body just felt numb. I just remember Tiffany saying it was time, and having an instantaneous surge of fear and horror, I couldn’t push one more time. Tiffany and Amy reassured me - “the placenta doesn’t have bones,” and would come out easily compared to that big ole OP baby.
(I actually do have THIS moment on video, and I’m really glad to have it now.)
I didn’t love it, it felt like a weird deep ache, but I birthed it in just a few breaths. Tiffany put it in a bowl next to me, as it was still attached to the baby.
At some point, it didn’t feel like that long, maybe 15 or 20 minutes later, the cord had stopped pulsing and Tiffany cut it (Matt was not interested in doing this part and after all he had been through, and I don’t blame him!).
Tiffany and Amy weighed the baby. 9 lbs even. Although, Amy said she’d rarely seen a bigger baby, she was shocked he wasn’t more than that.
Matt took the baby for some skin to skin time while Amy and Angelle helped to clean me up.
All I wanted in the whole world was to take a bath. They assisted me to the bathroom.
BUT, as we walked to the bathroom, I started to see stars and black out, sat down on the toilet and knew that I needed to get back in bed ASAP. I wasn’t aware at this point that the amount of blood I’d lost was more-than-usual, on top of the fact that I was completely depleted and dehydrated.
In the bed, Tiffany took my blood pressure. I was fine. But she urged me to stay in bed for 24 hours. I really, REALLY wanted that shower. I would say I was devastated, but I was too numb to feel any big feelings.
My mom went out to get food.
It was a Monday night. I wanted nothing but a gigantic burger. It was 9 something and 5 guys closed at 10. This was dramatic, would I get to eat?
I didn’t care that much. I ate goat cheese and crackers in bed for a snack.
After Amy cleaned me up, they brought baby back to me to feed him.
He was not great with the latch right off the cuff. Tiffany said to feed him what I could and then let him sleep. He’d been through a lot too.
My mom came back with my burger. It was so damn good. But I had caught a second wind of excitement as I marveled at my baby, took pictures of him, and sent friends the news. I couldn’t wait. My burger got cold. I couldn’t finish it.
After tying up all the loose ends and kindly cleaning up (all things considered, we did a good job containing the body fluids), Tiffany, Amy, and Angelle left. Tiffany said she’d be back to check on me sometime the next day.
When I finally was ready for bed around midnight (what in the heck was I doing??!? I told you I got a second wind), I remember the sheer deliciousness of being able to sink down onto my back. My belly soft but no longer pregnant. Able to turn onto my side without feeling like like an awkward whale. It was strange. I had a baby in me just hours ago, and now I didn’t.
I was relieved. I was exhausted. I was glad I couldn’t get up to go to the bathroom, because I never wanted to see that toilet again. I wasn’t fully connected to the fact that a baby slept just a few feet away from me in his bassinet. That always makes me a little sad.
I went to sleep. It was over.
And THAT is how my first baby was born.
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Whew! that was a doozy. I anticipate some kind of epilogue/reflection piece to follow. Make sure you’re on my Juicy News email list and following me on Instagram so you don’t miss a thing!
