This is the story of my amazing, easy(!), redemptive birth of my second daughter.
But to understand that birth, you have to know the story of the birth of my first daughter. On our second wedding anniversary, we found out I was pregnant with our first child. From the beginning, I was anxious about the birth. I was afraid of the pain, as I had seen portrayed in pop culture, but I was also afraid of all the complications that could occur. I read that using an epidural is correlated with higher rates of other interventions and C-sections so I decided I would try to give birth unmedicated. I chose this not necessarily out of confidence in my own abilities, or trust in God, but out of fear of other interventions and complications.
I hired a lovely doula named Rebekkah, as I had read that doulas are essential for unmedicated births. She suggested that I look into a birth center or at least a midwife instead of the standard OBGYN group connected to our local hospital. But I didn’t trust it - what if something bad happened? I was too anxious to trust in any other location for my birth except for the hospital and in any other provider except for an OB.
My pregnancy was otherwise relatively uncomplicated, and I tried my best to do everything right. But at my 37 week appointment, my OB took my blood pressure and asked if I was stressed, as my blood pressure looked a little high. I considered it - I had been rushing to make my appointment and had even accidentally hit a squirrel on the way - so I told her yes, that was definitely it. She marked it down, told me the warning signs of preeclampsia, and had me schedule additional blood pressure checks. I arrived at my 38 week appointment incredibly anxious about having high blood pressure. When they took my blood pressure, my fears were confirmed: it had risen to 170/110. The doctor came in the room and told me what I knew was coming: “You need to go to the hospital to have this baby today.” They never suggested taking it again, trying at home when I was less stressed and in my own environment, trying a different monitor, or any holistic suggestions or supplements for lowering it, all of which may have been beneficial and avoided an unnecessary induction.
They gave me three hours to go home and tie some things up. My husband Joe immediately drove home from work and started finalizing our hospital bags. I called Rebekkah, crying that I wasn’t going to have the natural birth I planned to have. She assured me that it was still possible to not get an epidural if it was important to me. By 5:00 that night, we were checked into the hospital to start the induction process. When I checked into the hospital, my blood pressure was much lower. In fact, it was a normal reading and it stayed in the normal range throughout my entire hospital stay yet no one suggested I reconsider the induction.
They first inserted a medication into me to soften my cervix overnight. With my adrenaline pumping, the uncomfortable hospital bed, the beeping machines and flashing lights, and light contractions starting around 3:00 a.m., I had trouble sleeping more than a couple hours. At 8:00 a.m. the next morning, they started an IV with Pitocin. We spent the initial phases pacing the room, pushing the Pitocin IV stand with me (COVID rules were still in place so we weren’t allowed out of the room), bouncing on the birth ball, and watching Netflix. I remember thinking if this was labor, it wasn’t that bad. The doctors kept coming in and checking my cervix. I was 3-4 cm dilated. They asked me twice if I consented to them breaking my water, and each time, I told them I did not feel ready for it. We called my mom, who came and provided emotional support.
By 5:00 p.m. I was tired of being shut in the same small room for 24 hours, of pacing back and forth, the seeming lack of progress, and the lack of sleep. I decided to try to take a hot shower to relax, but instead of relaxing me, the shower just made it worse. The shower head was broken, so it just sprayed a mist of cold water at me, which made me start shivering uncontrollably. My mom, Joe, and the nurse helped me back in bed and tried to warm me up. At this point, the doctor came in and again asked if she could break my water. Through chattering teeth, I said I just wanted to get it over with, and consented. The doctor reached up with a long hook instrument, and after an intense tug, my water gushed out. I stood up. The very next contraction, I lost my breath, my legs gave out and Joe had to hold me up. The pain instantly went from a 3 out of 10 to a 10 out of 10. Everything was pain. My water, which had provided some sort of a cushion, was gone. The contractions came relentlessly.
From this point forward, I floated in and out of an altered state of consciousness. I don’t remember much. I know Joe called Rebekkah and asked her to come, but I don’t remember her arrival. I remember Rebekkah constantly positioning and repositioning me. I remember her telling me over and over to relax, to lower my voice. I remember fighting the pain, gritting my teeth, and tensing my body. I remember begging for an epidural. I instead agreed to some IV narcotics. The pain meds did not really help the pain, but they did cause me to get really sleepy, and so I fell asleep in between contractions, which was sweet relief. It wasn’t long after they placed the IV that I reached transition and it would have been too late for an epidural anyways. I began to throw up between contractions.
Finally, around 11:30 p.m., my body instinctively started pushing on its own. They had put the head of my bed up, and it felt so good to be kneeling and leaning on the raised part of the bed. As I allowed my body to push on its own, all of the sudden, there was a rush of activity. My hospital room, which had previously been quiet and dark, suddenly became a flurry of activity. What felt like a strobe light was turned on and pointed directly at me. “IT'S TOO BRIGHT!” I yelled. The nurse replied, “Sorry, the doctor needs it to be on.” So Joe took a washcloth and placed it over my eyes. The nurse then told me, “you have to lie on your back.” I remember thinking, “no, I don’t want to lie on my back!” But in the moment, I didn’t have the energy or words to say how I felt. I just did what she said, flipped to my back, and put my feet up.
Then, they told me I needed to push as hard as I possibly could with each contraction. This felt wrong, but they were yelling at me like it was a sporting event: “PUSH PUSH PUSH PUSH COME ON MACKENZIE PUUUUUUSH!!!” So, with my knees up near my ears, I summoned my strength and pushed with all my might, screaming a guttural scream. Finally, after an hour of pushing, our Josie was born at 12:29 a.m. I had an internal tear and needed stitches. I lost a good amount of blood. I remember feeling weirdly detached from the entire moment. I was in shock at the pain and exhausted from not having slept more than two hours in 48 hours and the marathon of birth. Though I was relieved it was over, amazed that this baby had come out of me, and proud of myself, I did not feel the immediate rush of love and attachment toward Josie that I had expected. I felt almost angry about what had happened. I remember telling Joe, as they wheeled me to the recovery room, “I never want to do that again.”
The next days in the hospital were horrible. As I later read could happen because of an induction, my milk took nearly FIVE days to come in, and Josie at first could barely suck for longer than 30 seconds at the breast (since she was born early and sleepy, and we also later found out she had severe oral ties). Because of the lack of milk, she cried all of the next night, and we had no idea how to calm her. She lost over 10% of her birth weight. The nurses and lactation consultants told us to syringe formula into her mouth. The hospital staff also came into the room all hours of the night to run tests and refused to let us turn the lights off “for safety.”
When we were finally discharged from the hospital, we had not slept more than a few hours in four days and our mental and physical health reflected it. I was dizzy, felt detached from reality, couldn’t stop crying, and couldn’t process what had happened. I also had anemia from the loss of blood, which made me very weak. I couldn’t climb the stairs of our house without my heart beating out of my chest and feeling like I was going to pass out. Looking back on it, I also suffered from postpartum depression for at least the first 4 months of Josie’s life. I struggled to feel attached to her, struggled to leave the house, resented my birth experience and the experience of having a baby, had a lot of postpartum rage, and it felt like my life was over. But it wasn’t, and things slowly got so much better…
Lucy’s Birth Center Birth
Flash forward one year. I was comfortable and happy in my new life as a mom, and was absolutely in love with my little girl. But I still had not healed from Josie’s birth experience. Every time I thought or talked about it, I cried.
On Easter Sunday of 2023, I found out I was unexpectedly pregnant again. Upon finding out I was
pregnant again, I sobbed into Joe’s chest, “I can’t do it again.” But this time, I immediately turned to prayer. I then felt peace and acceptance that this baby would bless our family and that my birth experience this time would be different. I just needed to trust my good Father. At first, I told myself that I would get an epidural this time, but then Rebekkah reached out to me and offered to get coffee because she had seen on social media that I was pregnant again. I decided I’d go
talk to her, if only to process Josie’s birth, which I certainly had not yet come to terms with.
We met, and I finally was able to talk through my feelings. I spilled my heart out to her, telling her that, while I could not have gotten through Josie’s birth without her, I felt that I had not handled the pain well, that I felt out of control, that I believed I had suffered needlessly, and that I still felt bitter about it. She grabbed my hands, looked me in the eyes, and told me, “Mackenzie, you had one of the hardest birth experiences a woman can have. Pitocin contractions are not normal contractions. You had them for over 16 hours without an epidural. You were amazing! I don’t know what you’re talking about. You handled them how any woman would.” She explained that she told my story to many of her clients as inspiration. She told me that, if my next birth was not an induction, I’d likely find it much easier to handle. And if it was an induction, I could always get an epidural (but I had already done it before without.)
It was around this time that I stumbled upon the Made for This app and ultimately bought and read the book. I voraciously consumed the content. I had read other “natural” birthing books and listened to hypnobirthing meditations, but the message was always along the lines of “find the goddess within.” This was the first Christian/Catholic view of birth I had ever read and it changed my entire mindset. From fear to faith in God’s good plan for birth. From the old view that childbirth is a curse to the redeemed understanding that childbirth is a means of sanctification. From needless suffering to the idea of redemptive suffering - that pain can be united to Christ’s and offered up for a purpose.
Armed with this new confidence and trust in God’s divine providence, I not only decided to try for an unmedicated birth again, but to offer up my worries, go all in, and transfer to a midwife- only out of hospital birth center. I realized that what had led to Josie’s birth being a negative experience for me had a lot to do with the hospital setting itself.
In preparation for this birth, I listened often to the prayers and meditations on the app, worked through a lot of my fear and baggage, practiced relaxation and deep breathing in tense and painful situations, and most of all, I prayed constantly for the birth I desired to have. I prayed specifically that I would not have high blood pressure or need an induction; that my birth would be fast, easy, and uncomplicated; that we would make it to the birth center (we lived up to 70 minutes away with traffic); that our drive there would be easy and not too painful for me (all I could imagine was dealing with those insane Pitocin contractions while on a highway in bumper to bumper traffic); and that we would not need a hospital transfer.
On the app, I read about a woman who prayed a 54-day novena leading up to her birth, and I decided to do the same starting around six months pregnant. It was truly such a blessing. As a former Protestant, I had never felt particularly comfortable with Mary. But in methodically praying every day, I found so much depth, solace, and comfort in the Rosary. In the Sorrowful Mysteries, I felt a deep connection to Jesus’s dread and suffering, and in the Glorious Mysteries, I felt hope in God’s promises. I particularly connected to Mary for the first time in the Joyful Mysteries. I marveled in Mary’s assent to pregnancy, even knowing it would bring her pain and hardship; her selfless service to her family by traveling to care for her elderly relative Elizabeth while she herself was pregnant; her utter trust in God while giving birth in the most unideal circumstances; her offering her child back to God; and finally, her patience and good humor in finding the boy Jesus in the temple after losing him for days. Ultimately, I saw in her a perfect model of motherhood and trust, and felt myself in her care.. I found so much peace and meaning in my pregnancy that was utterly lacking in my first.
At about 38 weeks, I started getting prodromal labor at night. Nearly every night, I would start getting rhythmic contractions that were 3-5 minutes apart that were enough to keep me awake, but that would often stop after a few hours. This was such a difficult mind game. Nearly every night, I’d time my contractions and convince myself that I was in labor, then feel the rush of disappointment when they fizzled out. Eventually, to protect my own sanity, I had to tell myself that unless I couldn’t talk through the waves, I was not in labor and was not allowed to time them or pay attention to them. My midwife also suggested that I could take Unisom so I could at least sleep at night.
Finally, on December 11, I was 39 weeks exactly. After a full week of prodromal labor every night, I woke up feeling good. I felt so good, in fact, that I went to the chiropractor, who hit some labor-inducing pressure points in my feet, and then I cleaned out some closets and went on a walk with my mom. I did the Miles Circuit (as recommended by Rebekkah) during Josie’s nap time and took a nap myself. That night, I felt the rhythmic contractions starting back up again. Because I had been so disappointed so many times before, I merely sat on the birth ball and watched a mindless tv show. I didn’t even tell Joe what I was feeling because I didn’t want to acknowledge it. I took a Unisom and went to bed.
At around 3:00 a.m., I woke up to go to the bathroom and felt the waves again, but this time, very similar to strong menstrual cramps. I laid back down and tried to go back to sleep, but found myself breathing deeply and focusing to get through them. At one point, Joe woke up. He asked me if I was okay and told me I had woken him up by blowing air in his face. (I guess my deep breathing was a little less discrete than I had intended!) I told him I felt contractions but I wasn’t sure if it was the real deal.
I decided to draw a bath. Rebekkah had told me that this was a good way to tease out real versus
prodromal labor, as prodromal labor often stops when you get into a bath or warm shower. Instead of stopping, however, the contractions only became more intense in the water. I decided to call Rebekkah and get her opinion. When I expressed that I wasn’t 100% sure if this was real labor or not, she merely told me, “I trust you.” This powerful statement gave me what I needed to trust in myself and what I was feeling. I then called the midwife on-call number. One of the midwives, Mary (another sign of God’s providence!), answered. She told me that I was likely in the early stages of labor and that I should stay home for another few hours. I told her that I lived up to an hour away and that I was a second time mom, and she said, “I’m so sorry I forgot that. Come on in.”
We nonetheless took our time packing, and waited for my mom to arrive to watch Josie. At this point I needed to vocalize through each wave. But because I had practiced so much, I was totally relaxed, my breathing was even, and my voice was low. We finally got in the car and took off toward the birth center around 4:40 a.m. On the way, I played the Birth Prayer from the Made for This app over the car speakers while Joe and I held hands. It was such a moving prayer, expressing total surrender of the birth to God and recognizing the enormity of bringing
life into the world. I felt God’s presence and started crying because I was overwhelmed with the beauty of the prayer. I looked over, and Joe (who is almost never emotional) was crying too.
When the prayer ended, I realized with a panic that we were 15 minutes into the ride, and I had not yet had any contractions. With a sinking feeling, my mind raced that I had mistaken prodromal labor for real labor again, that I had gotten my doula, my husband, my mom, my midwife, and a nurse out of bed at 4:30 a.m. for nothing. I could tell Joe thought the same thing, but he reassured me that it was good we were on our way—at least I could get checked out. We arrived to the birth center in 35 minutes thanks to the early morning lack of traffic, and I had only had two very mild contractions the entire drive. Another sign of God’s answer to my prayers to pregnancy - He nearly stopped my contractions during the 35 minute drive that I had been worried about.
The second we pulled into the birth center’s parking lot - boom! I had a big contraction, which, though intense, was a relief. Mary came out to greet us and ushered us to our cozy room, which was quiet and lit softly with twinkle lights, and Rebekkah arrived shortly thereafter. They let us lay down and relax on the queen sized bed, and I dozed there for 45 minutes with light contractions every few minutes. Mary told me I could choose to have my cervix checked, but that I didn’t have to. I decided after a bit that I wanted to know. Mary checked me and told me I was three cm dilated, but 100% effaced. She told me I was likely in the early stages of labor, that I should relax and settle in, and that I shouldn’t be discouraged by the dilation, as effacement is half of the story. I was so grateful at that point not to be in a hospital, because a hospital would have turned me away for not being dilated “enough.”
Rebekkah then suggested standing up with one foot up on the birthing stool to help baby drop.
The next two or three waves were quite intense, but still manageable. At the peak of each wave, I could almost see in my mind’s eye, the balloon of my uterus inside me, hardening, while the rest of my muscles and body melted around that hard balloon. As I came out of each wave, I felt very nauseous and dry-heaved. I remember thinking that I had nausea just prior to pushing with Josie, but thinking that there was no way I was in transition now, since I was only 3 cm dilated 10 minutes ago. I remarked that my electrolyte drink was making me nauseous, so Rebekkah got a cold, wet washcloth and dripped peppermint oil on it. It was the best smell I’ve smelled in my life and it instantly took away my nausea. I put it over my face and inhaled like it was the only oxygen in the room.
Rebekkah and Mary then left the room. Mary later told me that she was at the desk calling the next midwife on duty to tell her I’d likely be a while. Rebekkah later told me she left to get some tea, as she thought she needed some caffeine to help keep her awake for what was likely to be a longer labor. The next wave, however, blood began dripping on the floor. Joe flagged down Mary, who came back in, and told us not to worry, and that this meant that things were progressing. As she was still talking and checking on baby’s heartbeat, the next wave hit, and this was the big one - it double-peaked, lasted almost a full minute without stopping, my water broke, and then baby started crowning. I remember gasping for breath, yelling, “it won’t stop! It won’t stop!” But it eventually did stop so I could catch my breath.
Rebekkah heard the commotion and came running in the room. Mary took my clothes off of me, and I remember saying that I didn’t want to give birth standing on the concrete floor. So everyone
helped me into the tub. I said that the water felt too hot, so they let some out and turned the faucet to cold. With me on my knees in the tub, and as the cold water splashed on my back (which felt amazing and distracted from any uncomfortable sensations), with my next contraction and almost no forceful pushing from me, our sweet Lucy was born at 6:53 a.m., as the sun rose.
It was December 12, the feast day of our Lady of Guadalupe and the day before St. Lucy’s feast day (we had chosen her name months prior)! I had no tearing and minimal bleeding. She was 7 lbs. 7 oz.
This all happened in the span of less than 30 minutes since the check when Mary said I was three cm dilated. I was shocked at how quick and easy it had been. There were only one or two minutes that felt truly hard. I was totally present, totally calm, and instantly fell in love with my little baby. We cuddled in the tub for a bit, then moved to the bed for a blissful time of skin to skin and nursing while we marveled at each other. Lucy latched on instantly and nursed for 30 minutes. Everything was unhurried. No one took her away to swaddle her, clean her, or measure her for a long time. Mary switched out with her replacement midwife, who was ALSO named Mary. God has a sense of humor.
They took her vitals, and there was some initial concern with low oxygenation and temperature.
Because passing through the birth canal squeezes the amniotic fluid out of the baby’s lungs, and Lucy’s trip through the birth canal was so quick, she still had fluid in her lungs. They wheeled in some oxygen and monitored her. They gave us the option of transferring to the hospital to have her checked, but told us they were not overly worried. Because of their confidence, we decided to
wait and see. While she was laying on me, her temperature was not rising, and her oxygen meter kept going off, which put me on edge. They turned the temperature of the room up to 80 degrees and placed layers upon layers of blankets on her, but nothing was working. So I suggested they place her on Joe. (I call him the human furnace—he’s always hot). They initially protested—it’s usually skin-to-skin with the mom that stabilizes the baby—but I insisted they try.
That did the trick! Once Lucy warmed up, her oxygenation came up to a healthy number, and over the course of the next day, she coughed up a lot of fluid. Rebekkah told us that, if we were in the hospital, they would have whisked her away to the NICU to sit in an incubator with oxygen. Instead, she stabilized via cuddles from her daddy. Joe considers it one of his crowning achievements, as he often brags to people how he saved our little Lucy with his body heat.
Once the second Mary felt confident that Lucy was stable, around 6 hours after birth, we got to go home to our own bed. My recovery was laughably easier than it was with Josie. My milk came in on day two. Lucy was never hungry. I had more energy, much less pain, and was ready to be active much earlier. I never hit a hormone crash, and, while two under two was difficult and overwhelming (especially during the dark and cold days of January and February), I never felt depressed. I attribute a lot of the issues I had the first time around to the Pitocin, which I’ve now researched can interfere with your body’s natural production of hormones and cause issues with attachment due to its interference with natural oxytocin. Its use has been linked to much higher levels of postpartum mood disorders.
I now look back on Josie’s birth knowing it was all part of God’s plan. Her birth emptied me of myself and prepared me for the sacrifice required for being a good mother, and it made me a better and holier person. Lucy’s birth, however, was a miracle. It redeemed my first childbirth
experience and helped me to appreciate my body and my strength. Every single one of my specific prayers that I had trustingly placed into God’s hands had been answered. I remember telling Joe, “if every birth were like that one, it’s not bad at all!”
Mackenzie and her husband, Joe, live with their goldendoodle and two young daughters in the Chicago suburbs. A part-time attorney and full-time mom, Mackenzie enjoys running, trying new recipes, and spending time with her family. You can find her on Instagram here.
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