The Birth Story of My Second Little One
And the Outcome I Never Anticipated
Note: I did not use AI at any point in the writing of this piece including drafting, writing, or editing. The pictures are all my own as well.
I first shared this story on my instagram at a few months postpartum. I’ve edited it here to include more details and I’ve edited a few grammatical errors, but I’ve kept most of what I wrote as it is — when I wrote it I was less than six months postpartum, and I want to honor the raw state I was in at that time.
Evangeline’s story starts with Seraphinas birth (which I shared in detail here). The short of Seraphina’s birth is this: my water broke, and after being in early labor for a long time I transferred from homebirth to the hospital. 60 hours after my water broke and after 4.5 hours of pushing, seraphina was born - but her shoulder got stuck behind my pubic bone (called shoulder dystocia) and she had to be resuscitated. She recovered quickly, but we lost our golden hour.
To avoid the same outcome with Evangeline, I took a number of measures in her pregnancy. I saw a webster certified chiropractor (I previously didn’t “believe” in them), and I saw a pelvic floor physical therapist. With the help of each of them I prioritized movement, and diet, and I practiced what maneuvers I would do if a shoulder dystocia occurred again. I left an unsupportive birth practice and transferred again to homebirth midwives. One of them had a shoulder dystocia with her third pregnancy, and felt confident she could resolve one if it occurred in my birth. I visualized the birth I wanted every day. I prayed many Novenas, including a 54 Day Rosary Novena. I had many friends praying fervently for me. This pregnancy was comparatively uneventful. I, and everyone else, felt confident birth would be smooth and redemptive.
To me, the worst outcome I could imagine is that I would have another shoulder dystocia. I imagined my midwives would quickly resolve it – but the recurrence would maybe prompt me to consider planned cesareans in the future. I had complete peace about this birth.
I technically even passed my gestational diabetes screening. With my first pregnancy I was diagnosed by observing my sugars at home. As my due date approached, my midwives had asked me to take at least the one hour test, so they had a better picture of what was going on. I failed the 1 hour by about 20 points. In my second pregnancy, I failed the 1 hour by only about 10 points. I took the 3 hour test with the fresh test and (narrowly) “passed” all four blood draws. Technically speaking, I didn’t have gestational diabetes – but I continued to observe my sugars at home, and felt I at least had some kind of impaired insulin response, so I continued with the diet. Similarly to my first, as the third trimester progressed my numbers became harder to control. I stopped gaining weight as I could eat so little, and so little seemed appealing.
I was due in the last few days of September, but I very much wanted to go “late” to have an October baby. My first baby was born at 39 weeks and 1 day, and I felt that was too early. I had this feeling that if I could go past my due date, labor would go much faster and more smoothly. The day of my due date, I woke up with completely blocked sinuses. It felt like there was a brick wall in my nose. I said to my husband “okay, now she better come late!” Because I was sick, I felt I would certainly not go into labor.
The day after my due date, a bit to my dismay because I was ill, I woke up at 3:30 am with contractions, exactly as I visualized. I took a bath to clear my sinuses, and continued to labor through the day at home peacefully. At around 1 pm I felt the contractions were getting very intense even though they weren’t getting closer together, so I asked my midwife to come. She checked my cervix and said I was 8 cm dilated. I shed tears of surprise and joy - this was going SO well! I couldn’t believe I was already in or nearing transition. We set up the birth pool, and I labored comfortably in there with Sam’s support. Weirdly, the sack of waters was bulging but would not burst - I could feel it myself. The midwives continued to listen to Evangeline through the Doppler. A few hours later, around 3:30 pm or so, my midwife checked me again and I was fully dilated. She suspected that as soon as my water broke, Evangeline would arrive quickly. I had been having the urge to push. I followed this urge, but nothing seemed to happen.
After a while, the midwives informed me they were worried. Evangeline’s heart rate was higher than they were comfortable with, and had been for some time. They were concerned that I was dehydrated, or that if they broke my water Evangeline might not tolerate it well. I drank a lot of water and tried different laboring positions all over the house, but nothing changed. They reminded me that the goal is not homebirth at all costs.
At around 6:30/7 pm Sam and I drove the 30 excruciating minutes to the hospital, where they quickly wheeled me in and gave me the last room. The doctors came in and we discussed. My cervix was becoming swollen, but was still pliable and responsive. We all believed that once we broke my water, Evangeline would come quickly. They broke my water but there was meconium in it - indicating Evangeline was stressed. No one said anything, but we all knew.
Through the night we watched the monitors to be sure she was recovering well from contractions. Her heart rate would get high, higher than normal, but quickly recover when the contraction was over. As the night progressed, it took her longer and longer to recover. She came down to station +1 but no further - she couldn’t seem to crown. The doctors suspected she was in a weird position - they did an ultrasound but couldn’t figure it out. They tried to manually turn her but had trouble doing so as well as discerning the sutures of her head.I continued to labor until just after midnight when the obstetrician made the call: Evangeline was not tolerating labor well - she was no longer recovering in a timely fashion, and I had indications of an infection. He said we could choose between an operative vaginal birth with forceps - if they failed it could result in a chaotic cesarean, or we could have a cesarean now - still urgent, but less rushed. I asked if I could have time to talk about it with my team, and he said we had one minute to decide - we had already waited as long as possible, time was now of the essence.
I asked the providers to leave the room so I could discuss with my husband and our midwife who accompanied us to the hospital. I said I was so afraid both ways. A life flashed before my eyes with either option, imagining worse case scenario. Cesarean never occurred to me as a possible outcome for this pregnancy. If I could survive Seraphina’s labor and birth vaginally I thought I could will my way through anything short of placenta previa or similar conditions. Our midwife reminded us of the risks of both options. I had a feeling that if they could not tell what position she was in, forceps seemed unwise, especially given my history of shoulder dystocia. I was afraid to say this out loud. I didn’t want to make Sam afraid. I asked Sam to pray, and we all felt peace that the cesarean was the best option. Again, the goal is not “vaginal birth at all costs”. They quickly wheeled me back. The whole time I pushed as hard as I could, hoping to give birth on the operating table before they could cut me open. Oops! Just a fluke. She was on her way this whole time!I was laid out in cruciform on the operating table. My homebirth midwife held my hand as my husband caught my vomit from the medication. I shivered violently. I was so cold. My arm kept falling off the table, and the nurse got annoyed with me. My midwife stood up for me: “She’s so cold. Help her.”
When they opened me up, they found Evangeline was Occiput Posterior and Asynclitic - essentially facing the “worst” possible direction and her head and neck were “cock-eyed” in such a way that her head could not mold through the narrowest part of the vaginal canal. The doctors had to use a lot of force to get her out of my pelvis, leaving me still sore and tender 10+ weeks out in a way I was not with my vaginal birth. The combination of her position and the fact that they had to work so hard to get her out indicated that the forceps would have failed miserably and likely grievously injured us both.
Evangeline was born plump and cried quickly - because I am so short there wasn’t room for her to lay on my chest, so my husband held her to my cheek for skin to skin as they stitched me up. I felt as if I were in a sick dream, with my arms splayed out as though on a cross. I could only think of Christ “here is my body broken for you”. I thought of Christ “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” And I held all these feelings in my heart. I felt relief that she was okay, but I also felt fear for the future - what would this mean for our promise to be open to life? For our desires for a large family? In the end I am grateful for our health, that we are together and both recovering as well as we can. But I hold that gratitude simultaneously with a grief for the loss of what I wanted for both of us.
They wheeled me to to recovery room where I breastfed her in a daze. I spiked a fever and she seemed warm, too. Fortunately, I had the presence of mind to tell my husband to take off his shirt and do skin to skin with her. Her temperature quickly decreased down to normal, while mine stayed elevated.
I think the hardest part was how blindsided I felt by this outcome. Even when I transferred to the hospital all three doctors I met felt confident that we just had to figure out the right “trick” and my baby would come out quickly. Why did this happen? I’m still not sure. Months out, I tried asking my PT, my chiropractor, my midwives, and even the OB who delivered. They all said they did not see it coming. The only insight the OB could give other than the baby’s position was the inside of my uterus did appear to host an infection – it was “gunky”. Was this related to the sinus symptoms I was experiencing? Did this illness trigger labor before my baby was ready? Did my compromised breathing also compromise my ability to relax my pelvic floor and allow her to get into optimal position? I will never know. My providers said it was likely just a freak thing. Babies come how they are supposed to come. I did everything I could. And the OB even said I was a great VBAC candidate.
Postpartum, I felt extra motivated to not let this birth get in the way of our bonding like I did with my first. I really leaned into all of the skin to skin, honoring the first 40 days, and just letting her take the lead in all ways. If it’s of interest, perhaps I will write a piece dedicated to this topic: overcoming undesirable birth outcomes to reinforce the bond between mom and baby which factors from the birth experience may have compromised. Let me know if that is something of interest of you, and specific questions you have. My experience with my second was night and day because when I looked back at the first year of my first daughter’s life I realized our relationship was first compromised by the birth, and there were a few things I did unintentionally that compromised it further. Fortunately, now I am as close as can be with both girls, but I still like to share that information with mothers who don’t know the obstacles and how they can overcome them.
I share my story because the truth is I used to carry a lot of shame with it. Shame that was unreasonable. I am not so powerful as God that I can make the world bend to my will. Shame comes from pride, and for me pride festers in secrecy and darkness. Despite being a doula, I had an irrational belief that if my will was strong enough I could have the birth I wanted. But life is full of chance, and the world is fallen, and no matter how “good” we are, how many times we do it “right”, frankly, shit happens. I couldn’t will the outcome I wanted, I actually had to surrender my will entirely to do what was best for my family. And I guess in many ways that is what motherhood, and the Christian walk, is all about: we have to die to ourselves. Often there are not good options no matter how “good” we are. All I know is that every time I’ve read a story similar to mine I felt the shame flake away and if I can be that for someone else I want to put it out there and not keep it to myself.
It was by realizing all of this that my first birth was redeemed. Maybe I was at fault for that outcome, but all I can do now is accept it. Maybe it was what happened in my first birth that allowed the circumstances of my second. Regardless, I feel strongly that I was not at fault for the outcome of my second birth. For months, I would touch my scar in the shower, and weep. I was grieving. I knew that part of healing would be allowing myself to be sad. To hold happiness that my baby was alive and well and sadness that I hadn’t been able to give her the start to life I wanted – I knew I needed to give myself permission to hold those feelings simultaneously in my heart.
We are now almost 2 years out from this experience and I would like to think I am mostly healed, both physically and mentally. I’ve accepted the outcome, and I don’t feel shame about it anymore — even though I also know it was “not how it’s supposed to be.” In a sense, I am grateful for having endured two very different experiences that allow me to hold space for moms who have had all kinds of births.
In my next piece I plan to write about having hope for the future despite these experiences — and how that doesn’t always mean that I believe I will have a “better” birth experience in the future.
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Blessings to you and your family. Thank you for sharing your story, it’s so important. Birth is wild and even if we do everything “right”, sometimes the outcome isn’t what we hoped for. Praying that the Lord will redeem this incredibly hard experience for you, I know He will in time. Much love to you. I would love to hear more about how your first birth impacted bonding.