The Birth of Alexandra

Alexandra was born on the very first day of September. Had I remained a patient with my then regular doctor, she would have come August 21st, via cesarean. Had the second doctor had his way, she would have come sometime between August 21st and August 29th, probably after a long and unsuccessful induction, via cesarean. But instead, she was caught by a patient midwife and she came via vagina.

The parts about Alexandra's birth story that I want to stick with me and that I want to share with the world are simple: trust your gut, believe in yourself, rely on your partner and your tribe, and always, always, always know your options as well as or better than anyone giving them to you.

When you wake up 30-something weeks pregnant and every cell in your body is screaming at you to hire a doula: you find Jetta on doula match and decide to hire her the moment you hear her voice.

When your parents offer to come *before* your due date: you say "thank you."

When your husband takes advantage of his flexible schedule and offers to accompany you to the OB appointment on your due date: through ALL THE TEARS, you say "yes, please."

Leaving the first OB, at seven weeks, was easy. I was barely pregnant and based on my own extensive VBAC research, I knew she was either blatantly lying to me because her practice parameters made a VBAC patient inconvenient or she was so out of touch that I didn't want her to be my doctor anyway. Leaving the second OB, at 40 weeks, was tougher. But when the conversation about induction turned from my concerns to his mentioning xbox as a suitable form of childcare for his own kids during my delivery: we said, "no, thank you." Then we called our doula and made plan B.

Someone told me once they didn't understand why I was so obsessed with a VBAC for Alex. At the time I explained it as an intense desire to avoid the pain (physical and emotional) of the recovery from another cesarean birth and a chance to heal emotionally from that experience. And while those things were true, upon reflection it was so much more than that. First, I wasn't technically obsessed with having a successful VBAC; I was obsessed with giving myself the greatest chance possible at a VBAC. And second, I knew in my heart that my body could do it. I believed that my body deserved a second chance and that I wasn't broken. And when you believe something with your whole heart, it gives you the courage to make otherwise seemingly "odd" decisions.

That belief and courage inspired me to find Jetta and to convince my husband to invite a relative stranger to our daughter's birth. It enabled me to share some of my heaviest sorrows and fears with Jetta, who in turn helped unburden my brain and encouraged me to let Alexandra have her very own birth story independent of anything that happened with her brother. It enabled me to commit to an unmedicated delivery in a culture that rains nothing but fear. It enabled me to believe that my baby wasn't too big; she was a masterpiece that was perfectly built by my body. And finally, in the final moments before we met Alexandra, that same belief and courage enabled me to trust my team when they told me I could push my baby out without an epidural, just as I had planned. It was sketchy there for a while and I tried to quit but that's the thing about a tribe: they have your back (or in this case both of your legs) until the end.

A year later, I am so full of joy. I am a proud parent but also a proud person and a proud woman. I am so in awe of her journey but also of my own. There were so many emotional and logistical and medical battles to be fought and I fought every last one til the very end. And I have no regrets and I have no unanswered questions this time. And I am grateful: for the journey, for the outcome, and for the million things that went my way.