Broken Trust, Building Intuition, and Giving God Space: Mary's Birth in a Different Hospital than Planned

THE BIRTH OF MY FIRST BABY:

My first pregnancy was labeled “high-risk,” and for good medical reason. Around 35 weeks my blood pressure began climbing, and by 37 weeks I had all the classic signs of preeclampsia: severe swelling, rapid weight gain from fluid retention, protein in my urine, and hypertension. At the same time, my husband had just accepted a new job and we were moving three hours away at the last minute - without a new provider or birth plan in place in our new city. While I don’t minimize the seriousness of preeclampsia, I do believe the stress of that move pushed my body

over the edge.

I was induced at 38 weeks with my original provider. I had no birth plan beyond being an “easy patient.” The induction lasted a full three days, I had an epidural, but ultimately birthed vaginally and had a healthy baby. And I was grateful. I subscribed to the belief that birth was something women just endured - healthy mom and baby is all that matters, right?

POSTPARTUM HEALTH COMPLICATIONS:

Postpartum told a different health story. I struggled significantly with breastfeeding, gained excessive weight, felt constantly exhausted, and my cycle never returned after my baby weaned. I was repeatedly told that nothing feels normal for a year or two after birth. “Welcome to motherhood” - but I knew something was off. I’m the second oldest of seventeen children; I had watched pregnancy and postpartum many times and I knew it doesn’t always have to be like this.

After seeing multiple doctors, I was diagnosed with PCOS. The immediate recommendation was a medication called Metformin, with zero discussion of alternatives. I was told it was the only way I’d lose weight, regulate my cycle, or conceive again. That answer didn’t sit right with me. Upon looking into Metformin, I learned it was the kind of medication that would have lifelong negative effects on my body and any future pregnancies – and there was no plan to get off of it at any point. I was just told I would essentially need this medication until menopause. I asked myself: shouldn’t I at least try addressing root causes first?

I decided to give myself 90 days - 90 days of intense adjustments to my lifestyle, and if I saw no progress, I would go on Metformin. I changed my diet, focused on weight training and cut out the intense cardio, added light supplements, and eliminated as many endocrine disruptors as possible. The results were immediate - within days: weight loss and restored energy and mood. My cycle returned the next month and I quickly conceived our second daughter, Josephine.

That experience fundamentally changed how I viewed health, fertility, and medicine. I became

more focused on root causes, more cautious of blanket medical solutions, and ultimately this is

what led me to be more open to natural birth. Still, out of fear of developing preeclampsia again, I chose a hospital birth for my second pregnancy. I don’t necessarily regret this choice - I was working with the information I had at the time - but if God gifts us with more children, with new information I now have, I would choose differently.

PRENATAL CARE:

Pregnancy went beautifully. My signs of PCOS still decreased. I felt so much better this time

around - I was nauseous the first trimester but nothing like the extreme nausea through 34

weeks I had with my first daughter. I also worked on my diet to prevent preeclampsia. I was feeling very hopeful as my pregnancy progressed. My providers had zero concerns until a routine growth scan estimated a large baby - estimated to be around 9 1⁄2 pounds by 40 weeks. This didn’t concern me. I had passed the gestational diabetes test twice, 9 1⁄2 pounds isn’t all that big, bigger babies run in both our families, and I knew ultrasounds are pretty inaccurate towards the end of pregnancy anyway. I never doubted she would be over nine pounds. My first was eight pounds born two weeks early, so nine pounds or more felt on par for the perfectly normal size baby my body makes.

Despite this, my practice strongly pushed for a 37-week induction. I was told shoulder dystocia

horror stories over and over again. I declined, concerned that early induction would increase my risk of complications.

At the next visit, my anxiety about the conflict with my provider showed up as a slightly elevated blood pressure reading. Suddenly, “gestational hypertension” was added to the list of reasons I needed to be induced. At home, my readings were consistently normal. I mentioned this to my provider and she explained to me that her clinical recommendation had to be based on the number she was seeing in the office, because technically speaking, they don’t know whether or not I’m being dishonest about my home readings. I completely understood she has to work within certain confines, and her clinical recommendation has to be based on this. However, she basically told me that if I’m being honest about my numbers, then I don’t have true gestational hypertension. Well, I knew I was being honest about my numbers. I understand that she couldn’t take my readings into account, but I certainly can – and I’m the one making the decision whether or not to induce.

Every appointment from then on was riddled with tense, awkward conversations. I tried to be respectful and appreciative of my midwife’s advice and time – but I wasn’t going to be pushed into an induction I didn’t believe was necessary. The conflict didn’t help my blood pressure at each appointment, no surprise there. Because I was declining the induction repeatedly, they wanted to run a plethora of additional tests every time I came in. All labs, NSTs, and biophysical profiles were perfect. Still, they insisted on inducing. I was repeatedly warned about the risks I was taking, and my husband was even called and told how reckless I was being and that I was increasing our baby’s risk of stillbirth!

By 41 weeks, my provider told me I had essentially set myself up for a C-section by letting the baby get bigger and bigger each day. That was the moment trust fully broke. My husband, doula, and I decided we could not stay and birth with a provider who had already decided how my birth would end. This was the moment I became truly grateful for my doula. She really gave me so much reassurance that I was not being reckless, I was thinking through all of this very logically and intuitively, and that she would support me no matter what I decided — even if that meant showing up to a random hospital. My husband was also very supportive and fully trusting of my discernment in this. I’m not the type of person to make emotionally driven decisions and he knew this. I had a lot of people against me in the final weeks leading up to my birth but I had all the support in the world from the people I counted on the most.

JOSEPHINE’S BIRTH:

I went into labor at 41+1, and it was a beautiful, textbook labor—about 14 hours total, beginning

around 10:00 a.m. Because I’d had so much prodromal labor that week, I didn’t believe it was real until around 4:00 p.m., when contractions settled into a steady rhythm about three minutes apart.

I wanted to labor at home as long as possible, so I called my doula to come around 8:00 p.m. We left for the hospital at about 9:30 and arrived just after 10:00. We decided to go to the local hospital instead of the one my practice worked in and where I had originally planned. We intentionally wanted to deliver at a hospital that had no record of me since my providers had riddled my medical records with multiple red flags that I didn’t believe were issues. I had far more concerns about those ‘red flags’ causing an issue by the way the staff might approach them or then view me as a patient.

We declined most interventions, and the staff was calm and respectful, which I was very grateful for. They asked about the size of my first baby—I said eight pounds (omitting that she was born two weeks early. I didn’t want to stress them about a big baby.)—and whether I had any concerns about my blood pressure. I didn’t – I was truthful. When they checked me, I was already 8 cm with a bulging bag of water. The pressure was intense.

I was completely present and inwardly focused, not thinking about timing or progress. Around

11:30 p.m. they checked me again and I was fully dilated and my water had already broken - I hadn’t even realized it. The moment I was told, the fetal ejection reflex kicked in. Pushing felt like pure relief. My doula and I later reflected on how instantaneously I felt the fetal ejection reflex once I was told “You don’t have to hold back anymore.” I wonder if I was ready to push sooner, but felt mentally hung up on holding back.

I pushed for about 20 minutes, and she was born at 11:52 p.m. on December 12th - the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe. That settled the middle name debate. Her name is Josephine Maria.

The birth was beautiful and minimally intervened, especially for a hospital birth. Her size - nine pounds, eight ounces—was never an issue, and my blood pressure remained normal throughout labor and postpartum.

Afterward, I reflected on how much we had prayed for a safe, unmedicated birth. Had we

accepted an induction without good medical reason, we wouldn’t have given God the space to answer that prayer. The final weeks of pregnancy were tiring and at times difficult, but they strengthened my conviction, my trust in my intuition, and ultimately carried me through both birth and postpartum.

Mary is a 22-year-old stay at home mom of two girls living in Youngsville, NC. She has been married to her husband, Gregory, for two years.