In the Wilderness I Make a Way: Abby's Deep and Challenging Redemptive Home VBAC

I have heard before that the labor and birth of a baby deeply resembles the Passion, but I have never understood it so intimately until the birth of my second child.

The birth of my first son had been a hospital induction due to last minute pre-eclampsia that ended in an emergency c-section. I left the experience feeling confused, abandoned by God, and extremely sorrowful to miss out on the many rites of passage I intended to experience. This time I knew I wanted to do things differently.

Though I had seen a team of midwives before through the hospital, I had gotten pretty interested in the idea of home birth. Since this would be a VBAC and I’d had a history of pre-eclampsia, I didn’t know if a home birth midwife would even agree to take me on. Thankfully I found one I really liked who shared my faith and after much consideration, my husband and I agreed we would move forward with her care.

Surrender. If there’s anything I could say that God required of me during my pregnancy, it would be surrender. I was terrified of the unknown, terrified I would spend effort to prepare for a peaceful birth at home only to end up in the same situation again, and terrified I’d have to tell everyone that I’d “failed”. After reading Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth, I tried to adopt the mindset that I couldn’t control the outcome of my birth, only my nutrition, mindset, and exercise. This helped a lot and I threw myself into prenatal exercise and reading about optimizing your nutrition in pregnancy to avoid blood pressure issues. 

For most of my pregnancy, I was happily surprised to find it going perfectly. Though I’d had horrible nausea and food aversions with my first, this time around I had about three weeks of nausea before I returned completely to normal. I was eating better than I ever had. My toddler and I took almost daily walks and I found myself feeling stronger than even before I’d gotten pregnant. 

As I got closer to my due time, my anxiety rose. My blood pressure had been great, but I’d only had blood pressure issues at my 40 week appointment first time around. Would the same problem happen again? Was this all for nothing? I begged God to help me but surrendered the outcome to Him. Again and again and again I desperately poured my heart out to Him and asked Him to take care of myself and my baby. 

My due date came and went. At my 40 week appointment I was delighted to see my blood pressure still within the normal range, but teetering very close to hypertensive. I was eating a ton of protein and taking enormous amounts of magnesium to keep it at bay. And I was also getting frustrated by still being pregnant. I’d been having pelvic pain for months and despite everything I’d tried, my mobility was severely limited. I was so tired of sleeping on my side and feeling gigantic. 

At 40 + 2, I started having light contractions. I knew this didn’t necessarily mean much, except that I was getting closer (whether hours or weeks away!). The next day my contractions intensified and got to about 10 minutes apart. In the middle of the night, they got intense enough that I needed to vocalize and move through them for about 2 hours and then fizzled. The following day, patterned continued.

By Monday morning I was so exhausted and drained that my husband had to stay home from work to care for our toddler. I texted my midwife and she offered to check me the next day and potentially do a membrane sweep. I agreed but I was terrified that she was going to tell me I wasn’t dilated at all and this prodromal labor would continue on for weeks. 

On top of all this, we entered into Holy Week. I had joked that it’d be cool to have a baby on Easter or Holy Thursday, but as they got nearer, I begged the Lord to spare me from having to wait much longer. My husband had minimal PTO and the prodromal labor was making it so we were using it up before the baby had even arrived. I was so mad!

My midwife checked me. 3 cm dilated, 80% effaced, my cervix was aligned, and baby at -3 station. She did a membrane sweep and gave me some suggestions for getting things started. And most of all she assured me my body was doing what it was supposed to do, it was just taking its time. She told me that it would probably be a marathon, but that she suspected that when my body jumped into active labor, baby would come quickly. I hoped she was right, because I couldn’t take much more back and hip labor, and the mental strain of laboring for days was taking a toll on me. 

That night things started to intensify again. My contractions stayed spaced apart, but they were extremely strong. I woke my husband up to help me and he held counter pressure on my back while I tried my best to breathe and work through contractions. My body was absolutely exhausted from being on day seven of intense contractions. At that point I started to desperately plea with my husband to just take me to the hospital to get an epidural or get my baby cut out of me. I didn’t care at the moment about my birth plans, only that this would end.  

We decided to call my midwife around 2 a.m. I was ready to go into the hospital and be done and I wanted to talk to her about it. She sympathized with me that I was going through a real mental and physical struggle. She suggested I take something to help with muscle soreness and see if we could sleep. She told me she could come over in the morning to check me and then I could decide if I still wanted to go into the hospital. And then, like she had every time I’d seen her, she prayed. 

Thankfully I was able to get some pockets of sleep. She and her assistant arrived late morning and she checked me. 4 cm dilated, 90% effaced, baby at 0 station. She reminded me that dilation wasn’t everything, and my body had clearly been doing good work to get itself ready to birth this baby. 

I so desperately wanted to give up but after being encouraged by both my husband and my midwife that I COULD do this, I decided to give it one more night. If it came to nothing, I’d go to the hospital and get a big, fat epidural. I asked for so many prayers from my family and friends!

That afternoon, a friend watched my toddler so we could do some things to get labor going. We went curb walking. We danced the merengue for 20 minutes. I pumped for 20 minutes before and after dancing and walking. But…nothing. I had had sporadic contractions for seven days and then all of a sudden I was actively trying to get things along and no contractions whatsoever. 

My toddler came home right before bedtime and we put him to sleep. Then my husband and I prayed a Rosary together for my peace and to surrender everything to the Lord. We both went to bed early around 9 p.m., him in bed and me sitting on a yoga ball leaning up against our bed. A little bit later, I had a contraction. Another. And again. 

By 10:30, I woke him up to help me. I eventually got in the birth tub to help my back and thigh labor. My body was working so hard and I was already so exhausted. Around 12:30 a.m. he wanted to call the midwife because my contractions were around five minutes apart but I was so disillusioned from the prodromal labor that I wasn’t convinced I was in active labor yet. I told him to wait a few more to see if they tapered off or stayed. After a few more all around five minutes apart, he called my midwife. I remember telling her it probably wasn’t real and my husband was just getting excited. We called the doula and all headed over.

Everyone came in so quietly and peacefully into my birth room. At every contraction, my team was at my side. My husband and doula took turns with counter pressure and squeezing my hand. The midwife’s assistant massaged my aching thighs in between contractions. They offered me water and electrolytes. Gregorian chant played in the background while I worked. 

As the pushing phase began, I had moments of lucidity and wonder that I was experiencing instinctual things I’d only read about - the fetal ejection reflex, reaching my arms up to stretch and open my cervix, even growling while pushing. I had grieved the absence of all these things after my traumatic c-section and doubted my body could even do them, but here they were. 

Pushing continued. Each contraction was intense and a huge mental, spiritual, and physical hurdle. I remembered Isaiah 43, “In the wilderness I make a way.” Though I wasn’t alone, I was in the wilderness of this labor, knowing only I could push this baby out. I begged God to be with me, I begged for healing in my family, I begged for strength to carry on. I offered up every desperate prayer to every saint I could think of. I surrendered over and over and over again. 

I didn’t know how long I’d been pushing but it felt like ages. My midwife suggested we try some different positions so I moved to the toilet (hated that) and then she checked me. She could see hair! He was coming, but slowly. She offered to break my water and I happily obliged. Anything to get things over with.

I got back in the tub after awhile and my husband joined me, cradling my exhausted body in the water to keep my head up. My strength was being so heavily tested. I had no idea how long it had been but I could see light peeking through the curtains and I knew it had to be morning. 

Finally, finally I could feel a little (huge) head coming out. A few times I could feel myself panic and practiced all the low humming and j-breathing I could to keep this part slow and controlled. I could feel him slowly coming down and slightly back up with every contraction. His head came out and my midwife told me to get on my hands and knees to give one big push for the rest of his body. 

And there he was, passed from my husband’s hands through my legs to my chest. Perfect. Chubby. Born. 

I wept. 

I could not stop praising God for seeing me through the most strenuous physical and mental challenge of my life. I actually did it! Despite my anxiety, despite my doubt and trauma, my body actually WAS made to birth this baby. And here was my little Liam Joseph, crying and curled up on my chest in a tub in my bedroom. Throughout every contraction his heart rate had been perfect. My blood pressure had remained normal. This child was the image of God’s redemption and provision and I was so overcome with gratitude that (though I’m not much of a public crier) I could not stop crying.  

Apparently Liam had come out with both fists by his face, which explained the prodromal labor, back and thigh labor, and prolonged pushing phase. It also meant that I had some significant tearing, which my midwife was thankfully able to take care of at home. 

Nothing had been perfect or blissful or pain free. My birth had been long and difficult. And I didn’t leave it unscathed either, as the recovery from tearing required a lot of time and physical therapy. There were trials throughout, but woven through these trials was God taking me deeper and deeper to a place of complete loss of control and dependence on Him to sustain me. 

Abby Gillmore is a wife and stay at home mom to two lively boys. She resides in Indianapolis, IN.