Zoey's Birth Story

My first birth was traumatic, my second controlled, and I so wanted my third to be a different and more supported experience. Before trying for our final baby, I switched to midwifery care at one of my favorite practices in the world. Excited for this experience to be different than the last two, we started trying for another baby. 

In early March we found out I was pregnant. Before I was able to go in for an appointment, I miscarried. This is an experience I’ve had before, pre-Avery, but even though the pregnancy was so early it was an experience that would impact my entire next pregnancy. 

Fortunately this situation solidified that I was indeed in the right place for future maternity care. What I was met with was trauma-based care that was second to none. In a traumatic situation I felt nothing less than heard and seen. My midwives and doctor checked on me often and met me with the utmost care and concern. 

A month after I miscarried we found out I was pregnant again. Many feelings came with this, the main one wasn’t excitement but anxiety. 

Would I miscarry again? How would I navigate postpartum depression and anxiety this time? Could postpartum be a different, more relaxing experience for me? 

Basically from the minute the test came back positive this last pregnancy became uncomfortable in more ways than just physical. So I set out to sit in that discomfort for 9 long months and explore how I could make this a different experience for myself. 

This started with changing my expectations for the birth. I decided this time to hire a doula. My friend and colleague Anjanette, who I texted almost every day from 36 weeks on because I thought I would go into labor super early. 

Jokes on me. 

We decided not to find out the sex of this baby, not really because we had a boy and girl already but moreso because you only get a few big surprises in life and this was one of them. I 100% thought it was a boy because this pregnancy was much like my pregnancy with Eli- super active, very low sitting baby. 

Jokes also on me. 

Zoey’s birth story really begins at 36 weeks. Michael, the kids, and I went to the store one Saturday evening and while we were shopping I started having painful contractions and tons of pelvic pain and pressure, more than usual. It was so intense Michael looked at me several times and said “I think you should probably call the doctor.”

To which I responded “No, I’m FINE. This baby can’t come out yet. I’ve got things to do.”

That same week we ended up in labor and delivery with what seemed like dehydration, despite being very hydrated, but was really just the start of almost 4 weeks of prodromal labor- labor that begins but peters out before it kicks into high gear. Prodromal labor, while annoying as hell, actually does do something. It prepares your body for the real deal and can often translate to a quicker active stage of labor, but by my 39th week I was over waking up in the middle of the night thinking “this is it!” only to be still pregnant in the morning. 

It feels like I tried everything to kick me into active labor that week. I even went with my husband to play disc golf and walked curbs the entire time. On Thursday, January 30th, I resigned that this baby would not be born until February and it seemed my jokes about it staying in until Valentine’s day may hold true. However, that night something shifted and my prodromal labor was more uncomfortable and more regular than it had been before. 

FINALLY. It was time…. 

Knowing I was already at 4 cm based on a cervical check and that everyone expected me to go fast once things started happening, we headed for the hospital just before midnight. I called the troops- the doula and the photographer. I mean, why not right? Everyone decided to go ahead and head to the hospital since they all expected this to be a quick thing and when I got there I was already 5 cm dilated. 

We walked around a bit and my contractions started to pick up. Then it was time for check in stuff. The nurse placed my Hep Lock and just like that the contractions stopped. They just stopped. What the actual fuck? I went back out to walk and see if that would move things along a little more, but ended up bursting into tears at the mere thought of having to go home to wait for this all to happen again.  

Michael and I went back into the room so I could have a mini-meltdown and also talk with my doula, midwife, and nurse about what to do next. Sobbing, I said “I just feel like I should just give up and go home. I don’t know what else to do.”

My midwife, Sheila, assured me that this is normal, it happens, and it was going to be okay. She and my nurse (at the time), Tanya, said they would suggest I stay at the hospital. Tanya said that she expected this lull to happen and once my body actually kicked into active labor, I may not have much time to go through admission again. Not to mention I’d told her early that morning that I was actually glad I wasn’t arriving in full blown labor so I could relax into the admission stuff. 

They suggested I get in the bath, take a rest, and regroup in a few hours. We also discussed Sheila breaking my water because it seemed like my body just needed a little push into the next phase of labor. 

So that’s what I did. I got in the bath, sent my doula home to get some rest, and after my bath I took a nap. When I woke up, contractions were coming back- but still very spaced out and not as painful as they were before. The day nurse, Holly, had come on and I woke up with a new mission- to not leave this damn hospital without a baby. Sheila came in and we decided that we would do AROM after I walked a bit more. 

Michael and I put on our matching plaid robes and went for a walk around the hospital. 

Around 10:30-11, Sheila came back and broke my water. Here we go…. 

Ummmmm…. Here we GO? 

Contractions started picking back up, but they weren’t super strong and I was able to manage them well. We watched the Food Network channel and talked with Anjanette about all the things. They brought in lunch and I ate- chicken fingers and a burger, something I never imagined I would eat in labor. I texted my mom to tell her to put the huge piece of ginger I’d bought in a bag in the freezer because I didn’t want it to go bad. We talked about how Avery would be so excited to get out of school and have a baby brother or sister soon afterwards. Even better if it was a sister.

She responded “only you would be managing the house while in labor.”

It’s true. 

Around 12:30 PM Friday, January 31st, my contractions started becoming more regular. I was starting to have to focus and breathe through them, but was still able to talk, make jokes, and converse with everyone. I told Anjanette and Holly several times that the toilet was my nemesis because every time I went to the bathroom the pressure was so intense and it was like a constant contraction. 

My photographer, Brooke, was there capturing all the best images silently in the background. 

About an hour or so later, as Holly was checking the baby's heart rate, she asked me how I was feeling. I said contractions were strong but I was doing okay. She said she and Sheila talked and said they may not even know when I was in transition because I was managing everything so well. 

Not too long after that, I remember having a very strong contraction. One that made me have to brace a bit and breathe with a lot of intention. All of a sudden it was boiling hot. I took off my birthing gown and headed for the bathroom. Of course, the toilet being my nemesis, I sat down to pee and had a huge, hard contraction. My husband came to the door and I put my hand up for him not to speak to me. “I’M FINE”- my life’s motto.

When I came out of the bathroom, I climbed on the bed on all fours. One contraction right after another, they wouldn’t ease up. I heard everyone making their way in the room, setting everything up for the baby, Sheila walked in with her headlamp on rubbing her hands together and smiling from ear to ear “It’s time!”

Michael grasped my hand while Sheila and Anjanette supported me. “I don’t think I can do this”, I said between contractions. Sheila said, “you are doing this.”

Before I knew it the pressure was too intense. They asked if I wanted to try side lying and I’m pretty sure I screamed “yes” with a few expletives following it. One contraction right after another. I remember saying “not again, not now, just give me some down time!” Nope. I screamed for some pain medication to take the edge off. Two contractions later, just as they got the medication into my IV, I roared and there she was. Zoey. I joked that her head wasn’t even pointy. Sheila said “yeah she came out in about 5 minutes so she had literally no time in the birth canal for her head to change shape.”

I looked at the clock and it was 2:44. It may have been roughly 20 minutes since I entered transition, about 3 hours since my water was broken, two hours after contractions picked up, and right before Avery got out of school. 

After that was a blur. I’m glad I have photos to remember because it was all just a blur of activity. Sheila, Michael, and I talked about my placenta. My friend and fellow doula, Emma, brought us coffee. All the midwives and doulas came in and we had a pow- wow while Zoey nursed for the first time. 

It was perfect. The perfect third and final birth. In fact, right after she was born I looked at Michael and said “Well that was a good finale.”

And it was. This is Zoey’s birth story. One for the books.

All photos taken by Brooke Quintero. Mama Bear Birth Stories