My Natural Hospital Birth Story

This is the story of my natural hospital birth. It was a long process, but it was truly amazing and so very special to me. I hope it encourages you and gets you excited as you prepare for your own birth, natural or otherwise.

The End of Pregnancy and the Beginning of Labor

I was very blessed to have an easy, healthy pregnancy and I loved being pregnant. So I never quite understood when people kept saying to me towards the end, “You are probably so ready to have that baby.” Well, yes, I was ready. I was excited to meet our sweet baby girl. But I was not sick of being pregnant. Pregnancy was, up until our baby was born, absolutely the happiest time of my life.

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However, being the dedicated anxious pessimist that I am, I was always worried the baby would be late and I would have to be induced. My sister had had a very difficult induction with her first baby (see her story here), and by this point, I was passionate about having a natural birth, so I was adamantly against induction – which, in my mind, meant I would surely end up with one.

As I entered my 40th week, people in public who asked when my due date was generally responded with a look of surprise as though they were shocked a woman in my “condition” dared to leave the house – or perhaps they were remembering those stories we’ve all heard about a baby being born in a cab, delivered by the driver or at Walmart, delivered by the cashier.

I was not terribly concerned about giving birth in one of these highly unlikely circumstances given my fear that I would go way beyond my due date and the fact that this was my first baby and not likely to be that quick of a labor.

So imagine my surprise when I woke up at 5:20 am the day after my due date and swung my legs out of bed to have my water break. I had had no contractions or indication that labor was nearing, and for a few minutes I stood in the bathroom panicking. This was totally unexpected. I was not planning on my labor starting with my water breaking.

I struggled with extreme fear over the pain I had to look forward to, because for me, the expectation of pain is worse than the actual experience of pain. I had planned on (as though you can plan your own labor) labor starting off with mild contractions that gradually got stronger and not knowing ahead of time that they were coming! 

After a few minutes of my mind and pulse racing, I managed to mostly calm myself down by reminding myself that countless women have gone through this and it is what my body was designed to do and knows how to do. I tried to figure out if my water breaking had triggered contractions to start. I was having some cramping, but not what I thought contractions should feel like.

I went back out to the bedroom to wake my husband and tell him my water had broken. Even though my husband is the most calm, steady and rational person I know, I somehow thought that after 5 years of marriage, labor would be when I would finally see him freak out. Instead, he calmly got up and started getting ready for the day, assuming we would be heading to the hospital soon. 

I called the doctor on call to let her know we were headed to the hospital. My midwife had instructed me to come in right away if my water broke since I was GBS positive and needed antibiotics at least four hours before giving birth.

However, after speaking on the phone with my doula, who encouraged me to labor at home for as long as I was comfortable, we decided to wait on going to the hospital. So we got up and had breakfast which soon woke my mom who came out to see what was going on. By this point, I was just excited to be able to tell her my water broke since this meant I would not need to be induced.

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Waiting for Contractions

We all spent the morning just taking it easy, my mom and I watching “The Great British Baking Show” on Netflix while my husband took a nap. I had not gotten enough sleep the night before and knew I needed rest for this big day but found it impossible to sleep – whether from the excitement or the hormones, I’m not sure.

My mom and I took a walk at some point to try to encourage the contractions along, but I did not want to use up too much of the valuable energy I would need for the more intense labor to come.

As my body likes to take its sweet time with everything, my “contractions” were very gradual in building intensity. For the first several hours, I really could not even call them contractions because they were so undefined and just felt like cramps.

It was nothing like I had expected. From what I had heard and read, I thought contractions would be easy to track, a specific pain that starts and stops. But throughout much of my labor, I could not tell anyone at a given moment whether or not I was having a contraction, because it was such a vague pain which did not have any particular beginning, peak, or end most of the time. 

Throughout the morning and early afternoon, my water broke several more times, which was also quite unexpected. I didn’t realize that was possible, but just about every time I bent over, stood or sat, I would feel the gush of fluid once again. My mom (a nurse) explained to me this was because amniotic fluid is replaced constantly.

This eased my fears because I did have a picture in my mind of my little baby running out of fluid like a fish trying to survive in a bathtub where all the water is draining out. My mom asked if I felt the baby more since my water had broken and I suddenly realized I felt like I was carrying around a sack of potatoes instead of a basket ball.

By early afternoon, my contractions were starting to be a little more defined and intense, and I was attempting to determine the beginning and end of each to track how far apart they were and their duration. It was still quite difficult for me to feel any sort of pattern, but I think they were hovering around four minutes apart and lasting around 45 seconds at this point.

I called my doula, unsure as to when I should have her come and when to leave for the hospital. She listened to me through a contraction and asked how I was coping with them. At this point, I was very indecisive about everything and ended up figuring I didn’t need my doula or the hospital yet if I was still so unsure. I told my doula I would text her what we decided to do after talking to my husband. 

Off to the Hospital

I think it was only about 20 minutes later that I was starting to tune everything out during contractions. We all agreed it was best to head to the hospital before it became too uncomfortable to ride in the car. My contractions slowed down quite a bit during the car ride and the transition to the hospital. I knew this to be normal but was disappointed my progress was slowing down.

It was around 4 pm when we got to the hospital, which meant I had been in labor for close to 11 hours already, but it had been a very slow build up from my water breaking to my current state, and I was ready for things to move along. On our way out the door as my husband and I had left for the hospital, my mom had said, “I think you’re going to have a baby today!” And I was really hoping that would be true.

My doula met us at the hospital shortly after I was admitted just in time for the nurse to examine me and announce that I was 5 centimeters dilated! I was shocked and thrilled to be further along than I expected. My doula congratulated me and said she was impressed I made it to 5 centimeters without her. 

For the rest of the evening, my contractions got more intense and I was glad I had come to the hospital when I did. My doula helped me walk the halls a couple of times trying to help the contractions along. At this point, when a contraction came on, I had to stop and hold onto the handrails, leaning over as I mumbled, “eyi eyi eyi eyi eyi” over and over until it passed.

I was nauseas throughout most of active labor (although it really didn’t bother me much since I was so focused on the contractions), and at some point during the evening, I vomited all over the bed. As nurses came in and speedily got me back in a clean gown and sheets with little effort required on my or my husband’s part, I realized I was incredibly grateful to be in a hospital instead of having a home birth so someone else could deal with the mess.

As evening faded to midnight and beyond, my contractions slowed down again. I was not aware of how far apart they were during my entire labor at the hospital, but they were definitely coming less frequently, although I do not remember if they became less intense. My doula and the nurse both assured me labor often slows down in the evening and early morning hours and then picks up again in the morning.

Although I was once again disappointed by the slowed progress (especially because, although not as unbelievably unbearable as I had imagined they would be, the contractions were painful and uncomfortable and I was ready to be done), the slow down allowed me to get precious moments of utterly exhausted sleep between contractions.

By this point I had also long been asking for a sip of water after every single contraction because they made me so thirsty. I later joked with my doula that giving me water was her main job throughout the labor. I also got teased a bit by my doula and the nurses for peeing so much since they were tracking my fluids to make sure I stayed hydrated enough to avoid a continuous IV. Hydration definitely was not an issue for me!

The night was uneventful and consisted of me, my husband, and my doula sleeping as much as we were able. In the morning, I believe around 7 am, the nurse examined me again and announced with a sweet smile and positive sounding attitude that I was 7 centimeters dilated.

I was crushed. I had only progressed 2 centimeters in 15 hours??? How much longer was this labor gong to last! The nurse assured me in a completely unfazed manner and kind voice that this was perfectly normal for a first baby and things were going as they should be.

Sometime after this devastating news, my doula and I had a moment alone as my husband left to find food and use the restroom. She asked if I would be willing to try nipple stimulation with my husband to help move things along. I had read about this and was not a huge fan of the idea, but at this point, I was willing to try anything!

She also asked me if I was thinking about anything that might be hindering my labor. I told her that I was unexpectedly scared of pushing. This feeling really surprised me because I had mostly heard positive things about pushing, and up until I was in labor, I believed it would be a positive experience. But for some reason, as I got closer to that point of labor (no matter how slowly), I found myself fearing what it would feel like and what it would do to me.

I think I was basically afraid I would tear and that I would feel myself tearing – a thought that makes me shiver even now as I am pretty squeamish about those kinds of things. I can’t watch TV medical dramas for that reason, which is why it is downright astounding that I even wanted to have a natural birth.

Finally Fully Dilated

I think it was around 12 pm when the doctor came in to examine me again. She tried to wait until I was between contractions, but even at this stage, I could not clearly define when one began and ended. I believe this is because the contractions were coming on top of each other sometimes according to a comment the nurse made at one point while I was hooked up to the monitor.

It was extremely uncomfortable having the doctor’s hands in me. I yelled out in pain and she pulled her hands out. I cannot tell you the relief and hope I felt inside when the doctor told me I was 9 centimetres dilated and could start pushing any time I felt the urge. She said the reason it had felt so painful was because she was trying to stretch the last little lip of cervix but stopped when I cried out. 

My doula celebrated this news with me and we relaxed (as much as a laboring woman can relax) while I waited to feel the urge to push. As with everything in my labor, the urge came on so gradually, I couldn’t even figure out that that was what it was until it began to build over the course of about a half hour.

Once I was able to distinguish the pushing urge from the regular contractions I had been having, I told my doula, “I think I’m starting to push”. At one point I told her I was trying to resist the pushing so I wouldn’t tear, but she told me not to worry about that because that happens toward the end when the baby is further down the birth canal.

As the pushing became more intense, my doula began to coach me through the pushes. She advised me to wait for the contraction to grow and hold off pushing until the contraction was at its peak and then push with that power. She also encouraged me through each contraction to push through my bottom. Even though I didn’t quite understand what this meant, it helped me focus on what to do and how to direct my energy.

As a side note, my husband and I are extremely grateful we had a doula. Her soft encouragement and experienced advice was extremely helpful in ways my husband would not have been capable of simply because he did not have the training and experience my doula had.

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It was also a huge burden off of my husband’s shoulders to be able to leave to eat and use the restroom knowing he was not leaving me alone. But as grateful as I was for my doula, my husband was irreplaceable as my tower of gentle strength when things got intense with the pushing.

This next bit may be TMI for some, but I’m sharing the raw reality of giving birth for those first-time moms who want to know what to expect. At some point during the early pushing I became incontinent – kind of hard to avoid when every single muscle and ligament in your core is pushing and squeezing down and out without mercy.

This was another moment when I was extremely grateful to be in a hospital as the nurses, once again, quickly and effortlessly got everything cleaned up without me having the embarrassment of having my husband do this for me. Thank you nurses!

The Pushing

So what does the urge to push feel like? It’s exactly what it’s called – an urge. No, an IRRESISTIBLE urge so intense that giving in and pushing with the urge felt WONDERFUL! I have heard many people say it feels like you need to have a bowel movement; i wouldn’t have thought to describe it that way necessarily, but I suppose that is how it felt at the beginning.

I don’t remember how long I had been pushing when I told my doula I felt like the baby was between my legs. She asked if I wanted her to get the nurse to check and I said yes. I don’t think my doula thought the baby was as far down as I thought she was, because she seemed surprised when the nurse lifted my gown and leg (I was on my left side) and they could see the head. I was so excited this whole thing was finally moving along!

The nurse positioned a mirror so I could see the baby’s head. This took a few moments as I had to keep telling them which direction to tilt the mirror so I could see – nothing like a woman in labor directing, “To the right a bit … Too much, now left … Up a bit …”.

I cannot express what a magical and joyful moment it was when I saw lots of dark wavy hair. I looked at my husband, who was also looking at our baby’s noggin, and said with a bright smile, “She has hair!” My husband’s answering excited grin was priceless; it’s a moment I’ll never forget.

Upon seeing my progress, the nurse must have notified the doctor because the room suddenly filled with the doctor and several nurses. It seemed like a lot of people (I think four or five nurses plus the doctor) and my doula later said all the nurses didn’t need to be there; they just wanted to witness a natural birth because it’s not the norm, even though this hospital was known for being very natural birth friendly.

But at the time, being that I had never been in labor before, I assumed this many people must be necessary to deliver a baby. I did not mind having so many nurses around me because everyone was so encouraging. They were all literally cheering me on the whole time. I just felt surrounded by overwhelming support and it was amazing. 

The next few hours involved a lot of progression and regression and position changes. Every time I pushed, I would make good progress but once I stopped pushing, the baby’s head would recede again.

I started on my left side and had the most consistent contractions this way, but I was not making good progress with my pushes. I remained on my left side for quite some time, however, and at one point, I suddenly got a Charlie Horse in my leg from holding my leg up, even though my doula and a nurse were helping support my leg.

Oddly enough, getting this leg cramp was, to me, the most embarrassing part of all of labor. I had long ago lost all dignity and modesty regarding being nude and losing bodily fluids all over myself and the bed, but for some reason, it just seemed so ridiculous that during LABOR, of all times, I would get one of those annoying leg cramps I sometimes get during the night.

Partly because of the leg cramp and partly because of my lack of progress, the nurses asked if I wanted to try repositioning to my hands and knees on the bed. Once I was on my hands and knees, I was still struggling with the leg cramp, so someone got me a packet of salt which my husband poured into his hand for me to lick. Strange as it may sound, this act of service from my husband made me feel so supported and loved during this exhausting time.

Amazingly, the salt seemed to work instantly and I don’t remember ever struggling with the cramp again. From this point on, probably sensing how close we were to the end and how much I needed his strength, my husband stayed right by my side and held my hand while I remained on all fours. That was the most encouraging thing to me in that moment.

After a while of being on hands and knees, it was obvious I needed to try a new position because, despite me rocking into the pushes like I had practiced in one of our birth classes and making good progress with each push, my contractions had slowed way down.

Finding the Perfect Position

One of the nurses or the doctor asked if I thought I could stand and squat with the squat bar attached to the end of the bed so that gravity might help the baby’s descent. I had no idea how I was going to get out of the bed without smooshing my baby’s head, but I was willing to try anything to help the process along.

I somehow managed to climb out of the bed and waddle to the end of it where the bar was attached. My doula wrapped her rebozo (a large scarf used for various birthing activities) around the bar so that I could hang onto it as I squatted into my pushes and pull myself back up at the end of the contractions.

My progress was better in this position, but my baby was still receding at the end of each push, so one of the nurses suggested I put one foot up on a stool while I squatted to broaden the opening for the baby to come through.

As we got very close to the end, I was completely and utterly EXHAUSTED unlike I ever have been before or probably ever will be again. I was sleep deprived from minimal sleep the night previous and not nearly enough sleep the night before I went into labor, but mostly the level of effort and exertion required to push was extraordinary and the pushing phase had been going on for so long.

At this point, I was very close to being unable to go on. I told my husband later on, a few pushes before she was born, I felt like I was past the limit of what I could do, and by the time she was born, I probably was just a couple of pushes away from truly being unable to do anymore. At this moment, the exertion was so intense, I felt like everything inside of me was trying to heave out of me at the end of every push – that’s the only way I can describe the feeling I had.

My doula kept asking me if I was in pain or if I was feeling the ominous “ring of fire” (which I never really felt, just a slight burning that was completely bearable) because I was yelling through every push. But I wasn’t actually in much pain, the effort was just so great, it was impossible not to vocalize it. In response to my doula, I just kept gasping, “I’m so tired.”

During the last several minutes of pushing, I had the strangest sensation inside me that felt like the baby’s face moving. It may have actually just been the nurses fingers as she messaged and stretched me, but it really felt like the face of my baby moving, perhaps attempting to cry in protest to this miserably long descent.

The doctor and nurses were extremely positive and encouraging. They began asking me to try to get several pushes into each contraction, and my sweet doula countered this pressure with softly spoken encouragement to do whatever my body felt it needed to do.

I decided to try pushing several times with each contraction. Although the second push of each contraction felt a bit forced, I knew I had to do more to get this baby out before I lost my last tiny bit of strength, so I pushed as many times as I could through each contraction, which was usually two or three times.

There were about two pushes before she was born when I could tell by the reaction of everyone in the room that they thought it was the last push and she was going to come out, but she was apparently continuing her habit of receding back inside. This girl did NOT want to leave her nice comfy womb home!

The Birth of My Baby

And then, FINALLY, at long last, after four and a half hours of pushing, the last push came and my baby slid out into the doctors hands. I do not know how she managed to catch a slippery baby coming down with the force of gravity, because I really could not see beneath me.

At any rate, she did catch her and very promptly handed her to me. I brought her as close to my chest as I could, but the cord was short and I didn’t know how much slack I had, so I didn’t want to tug her up too much.

The nurses helped me sit on the birthing stool I had been using so that I could snuggle my daughter safely. My husband came to squat next to us and stare down at our new baby girl. As soon as the cord stopped pulsing, it was clamped and my husband cut it so I could hold my baby unrestricted.

Our baby had quite the cone head from being trapped in the birth canal so long, but it didn’t make a lick of difference to me. She was our baby, so beautiful and tiny with a head full of dark wavy hair like her daddy. We were both instantly in love with her.

She cried and cried and I tried desperately to calm her, wanting so badly to sooth and comfort her for all the trauma she had just been through being kicked out of her home of the past nine months.

I was also semi-frantically trying to encourage her to latch while also trying to let her find the breast on her own. I felt like I had a stop watch counting down an hour from the moment she was born since I had read over and over that getting the baby to latch within the first hour sets them up for successful breastfeeding. I realize now all this anxiety was unnecessary and I should have just relaxed and not felt pressured for time.

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As I sat on the birthing stool adoring my baby, I was unpleasantly surprised to continue to experience painful contractions. I had read third stage labor (delivering the placenta) would involve much less painful contractions than first and second stage until the placenta was delivered, but these were still pretty painful. I was dismayed that I did not have the relief I had anticipated following the birth of my baby.

Fortunately, however, these contractions only lasted perhaps 15 minutes or so until the placenta plopped out of me as I was gingerly working my way back onto the bed. I am told by my husband and doula that along with the placenta, enough blood poured out of me to be worthy of a crime scene.

My midwife later said I lost twice the amount of blood as an average vaginal delivery but about the amount of a cesarean delivery. My doula also later told me I had one of the largest placentas she had ever seen which may explain why I bled so much (for those first time moms who don’t know, the bleeding comes from where the placenta tears away from your uterus).

Because my bleeding did not slow down on its own, the doctor ordered Cytotec and Pitocen to be administered. Also because of my heavy bleeding, I was not allowed to stand without assistance for the next couple of hours, not that I was really able to anyway. I was so exhausted from the 37 hour labor and weak from the blood loss, I didn’t really feel safe to stand and move about. 

Once the bleeding was under control, the doctor began to examine me for tears. Well, I did tear in one spot, and let me tell you … the doctor digging around in there was the most excruciating part of the whole labor. That was the only time during the birthing process when I felt out of control with pain and started screaming.

This was also another moment when I was extremely grateful for my calm doula who gently coached me to “keep it low”, referring to moaning in a deep, low voice rather than scream which helps you relax and stay open.

The Beginning of Recovery

After the doctor finished stitching me up, I reclined in the bed feeding my baby as my doula focused on feeding me. I was so grateful for this since I desperately needed to eat but was far too engrossed in my baby and feeding her to consider feeding myself.

After bonding with and nursing my baby for an hour or so, I handed her off to my husband and she instantly quieted down and went to sleep in his arms, her tiny naked little body warmed by his bare chest. It was a precious daddy-daughter moment.

That night, once we were finally settled in our recovery room for the reminder of our stay, we had the opportunity to rest. And so my husband and new baby proceeded to sleep. Not me. I was too paranoid to sleep despite my exhaustion.

This tiny little person was brand new in the world. How did I know she wouldn’t just suddenly stop breathing? What if she choked to death (which seemed entirely possible as she did indeed choke on amniotic fluid constantly throughout the night)?

I was also concerned about the fact that I couldn’t wake her up to nurse all night. This worried me since I had read newborns should be awakened to nurse every few hours if they are not waking on their own. I have since read that newborns sleep for 12 hours after birth which makes perfect sense because that’s exactly what she did. 

Despite the exhaustion and lack of sleep, this was the happiest time of my life. And I have to say, as much as I love doing things natural, I LOVED being in this hospital for delivery and recovery. I was so blessed to find a hospital in our area that is extremely supportive of natural birth.

I had the perfect combination of a natural birth experience and being taken care of by nurses, which took the burden off of my exhausted husband so he could rest too. We didn’t have to worry about defrosting something for supper or washing dishes or changing the sheets when they got blood on them. It was just nice to know that someone else would handle all of that for a couple of days.

Although my mom was staying with us at the time and was incredibly helpful, it was also nice to have a day for my husband and I to be alone with our new baby and hold her before having to share her with other eager arms.

Ultimately, I was extremely satisfied with my birth experience. The only thing I would have changed and will try to find an alternative to next time is getting antibiotics. Because my labor was so long, my daughter and I got a boatload of doses (plus an extra dose the morning after due to a charting error), and I fear this may have contributed to her reflux, which she still struggles with over a year later.

But other than the reflux, she is a very healthy baby and for this I am endlessly grateful. And I could not have asked for a more beautiful baby whom I love with a fiercer love than I could have ever imagined possible.

Want to know what happens after delivery? Read my post on the postpartum experiences your friends won’t tell you about!

If you liked this birth story, be sure to check out my 2nd natural hospital birth story!