Brianna’s Hospital Birth Story

No longer a day of mourning.

I always thought, as an only child married to another only child, that we would have only one child together. When I got pregnant right before he deployed, we were all shocked and adjusting to the idea of being a family of four. Even more surprising was when the due date of our unborn baby was sandwiched between two very important dates: the date of my grandmother’s death, and the date of my grandmother’s birth. My grandmother was someone who I grew up with and was very close to. Her death was sudden and tragic and I always heavily mourned the day she passed.

As I went along in my second pregnancy, I measured large. After my first child was born at 38 weeks, I thought there was no way a second pregnancy would make it to the “due date”. I was right; or so I thought. Prodromal labor sent me to the hospital more than one time. After gaining over 50 pounds and being uncomfortable for weeks, I was excited to hopefully welcome this baby sooner than the “full” 40 weeks. Stubbornly, she remained comfy in the womb, waiting for the time to be right. I had been offered membrane sweep and induction, but declined, with my goal to have a second successful medication-free labor and delivery. But boy was I becoming desperate, especially with multiple times where labor seemed imminent, but never came.

Then, on Tuesday, December 18, I awoke at 5:30AM to my first noticeable contraction. It didn’t feel much different than the previous prodromal labor contractions, so I sent my husband to work and he gave me the phone numbers to only be used in an emergency, if it was “actually” go-time. The next hour was much of the same. I woke my 2 year old for daycare and quickly, my contractions intensified. I called the emergency-only work phone numbers and asked for my husband to be sent home, and called my mother in law, waking her from a sleep to take over getting my daughter to daycare. The contractions continued to intensify and by the time my husband and his mother arrived at 7:30AM, I was making a peanut butter sandwich, hunched over with an anxious and silent audience behind me as I breathed through contractions. I finished making my daughter’s lunch and gave her a hug and began the 30-minute trek to the hospital.

Upon arrival, I knew I needed to get in the building right away and declined a wheelchair for fear of being left alone at the car. Every few steps, another contraction. At the registration desk, there were many questions and typing. Continuing to decline a wheelchair, I began making my way down the long hallway to the family birthing center. Every few steps, hunching down to focus on the next contraction. By the end of the hallway, I felt my water break. Finally, making it to the family birthing center, we were let in to find nobody in the hallway ready to help us. Until I squinted to see my midwife, Alicia Darr standing at the other end. She immediately recognized the urgency of the situation and got a nurse to help me. The nurse helped me get undressed while my husband moved the car.

In the bathroom after changing to a hospital gown, the nurse attempted to put monitors on my belly and talked about an IV. Unable to speak, and not wanting any hands anywhere near my contracting belly and my focused mind, I grabbed her hand and tossed it off of me. I may have said some not-nice things as well. She readily found me another nurse.
I remembered from my first birth that being on my knees and laying over a yoga ball was the most comfortable position. The kind hospital staff quickly obtained a mat and a yoga ball, but going through transition was too uncomfortable for a long period of time in one position. Alicia attempted to check my dilation while I stood over the bed, and eventually asked that I lay on my side to get an accurate check. At this point, contractions were nearly constant. The most comfortable place I could think to go was the mat on the floor, and I laid down on my side. I was at 9.5cm dilated. Alicia told me “if you turn over, I can hold the rest back, and she will be here.” I contemplated it for several seconds while I breathed through back to back contractions. Finally, in a moment of a moderately relaxed belly, I turned to my back and said “ok” After two quick pushes, my 10 pound 3 ounce baby was born at 10:03AM; intervention-free, on the floor, on the anniversary of my grandmother’s death.

I no longer mourn my grandmother’s death because I have my daughter to celebrate. And I no longer believe in coincidences. Instead, I thank my grandma for sending me joy in place of sadness. Now, to honor her memory, I celebrate my grandma’s birthday, just two days after my daughter’s.

I’m so grateful for an amazing experience delivering my second daughter with Alicia by my side.