On August 25, 2025, I gave birth to my second son, Henry, via a successful 100% unmedicated VBAC, after hearing that I “may not have the mechanics to give birth naturally.” 

Those words were spoken to me nearly 2 years prior by the doctor who assisted in the birth of my first son, John. With John’s birth, I was woefully unprepared. I had watched a few birth vlogs, ate the dates, made a little bag of coping tools, and considered myself ready for the endeavor. This is because I have always been one to trust in my body’s ability to do what it needed to. But once I hit active labor with John, I lost all footing and asked for the epidural. My previously perceived, “fast labor”, stalled and I ended up laboring for 22 hours total and pushed for 3.5 hours. All to end up having a c-section due to exhaustion and “failure to progress.” Although John and I came out healthy and happy, I felt as though my body had failed me in some way, as though I had something “wrong” with me, especially after the doctor said what he did. Which, by the way, was a terrible choice of words because having a c-section truly felt like I was a car in a mechanics shop. But that’s a whole other story. 

Fast forward to getting pregnant with Henry. Aside from being thrilled, I was also nervous to give birth again. I initially thought I would have a second c-section, blindly trusting in the previous doctor’s assessment of my body being unable to have a vaginal birth. But as the months went on, that just didn’t feel right. I decided to do more research into VBACS and how to have a successful one. Of course one of the top recommendations is to hire a doula, so that’s what we did. And Emma was the best decision we made. At the prenatal visit with Emma, we discussed goals, coping skills, supportive technics for partners, and so on. I initially had the loose goal of going unmedicated, but felt more prepared to attempt such a feat after the visit with Emma. And only a month later, I went into labor naturally at 38 weeks exactly.

My contractions began at the beginning of the day, but were short, mild and sporadic. That afternoon, I texted Emma that I thought labor was going to officially begin soon and she recommended I time the contractions and to do the miles circuit. After only doing the first position for 20 minutes, I knew I was actually in the labor as the contractions picked up in frequency and intensity. After packing up the van and getting my oldest in the car with his grandparents, we headed to the hospital. When we arrived at the hospital, my contractions were 2 minutes apart and lasting 45-60 seconds. However, when I got checked, I was only dilated between a 1-2. I was monitored in triage for an hour and when I got checked again, I was at a 3. Shortly after being admitted, we called Emma in to join us. My contractions were still every 2 minutes and lasting about a minute, but their intensity kept climbing. 

Throughout the labor process, I kept surprising myself with how stubborn I was. Once I found a position that I labored well in, I didn’t want to move. This was a common theme throughout my labor and delivery experience. But of course, movement is what my body needed in order to progress. In order o meet Henry. Emma coached me to try different standing positions for laboring and also to use the peanut ball. I had only just laid down for 10 minutes with the peanut ball before to my water broke. Things obviously sped up from there. We moved from the bed to the shower for some relief. 

Contractions were still coming at their usual frequency and duration, but again, the intensity increased greatly. However, with the heat from the water and counter pressure on my back given by my husband, the pain was manageable. I took one contraction at a time and didn’t think about anything else. It is true that you kind of “get in the zone.” After maybe an hour in the shower (time was lost to me so I could have been in there much longer), I made the decision to follow Emma’s guidance to get out and try different labor positions in the room. However, right as my last contraction ended before getting out, I had the urge to push. Correction, my body started to push for me. 

Fear flooded in. In that moment, I wasn’t really scared of the pain or the pushing, I was scared of history repeating itself—the seemingly endless pushing for no reason, that the other doctor was right, that I couldn’t do it. 

We quickly moved to the bed and I got hooked up to the nitrous oxide, which provided great relief mentally, in addition to encouraging words from Emma and my husband. I pushed in various positions, reluctantly, I might add. 

However, the clock kept ticking, the contractions kept coming, and still no Henry. My confidence, and energy, slowly dwindled despite the support I was getting from those in the room. At one point, I had asked if it was too late for the epidural, solely because I wanted a break, to recoup some energy. But I quickly ignored that possibility because I knew that I needed to trust my body. That I needed to see this through and give it my all. 
Henry slowly made his descent and after three hours total of pushing, with the encouragement of my husband and many women in the room, Henry made his entrance into the world at 6:32 am. 
You hear women say all the time that they can’t describe the feeling of their baby coming out and being immediately placed on their chest, and that is so true. I can only describe it as a mix of relief, triumph, excitement and love flooding me. I remember saying, “I did it” over and over. There was no greater reward than to immediately love on and cuddle my new little one. Something I missed out on with my first. 

Needless to say, my confidence in my body and willpower was restored, even more so after learning that Henry was sunny side up and that I didn’t need a single stitch. 
It’s amazing what the woman’s body is capable of when in the right environment, with the right supports, and right mindset. I learned many things about myself from Henry’s birth, but first and foremost, I am capable of great things.