To prepare for labor and delivery of my first baby, all throughout my pregnancy I would come here to birthstories.com to read about the real-life experiences of other women. I was fascinated by all of their experiences and, not having experienced childbirth for myself yet, I tried to prepare myself as best I could by learning from their experiences. I owned a copy of every labor and delivery book I could find. I started touring local hospitals and even interviewing midwives while we were still trying to conceive. Nothing could have prepared me for what we would soon experience that has changed my life forever.

Finally we decided to have a natural birth at the only local birth center and have our baby delivered by a licensed midwife. There were two midwives on call. One had been the owner and operator of the birth center for over 25 years and the other was the president of the midwives association for our entire state. I checked their licenses and they were both clear and active.

The birth center was within five minutes of local paramedics and within 15 of a local hospital. We had hired the most well-known doula in the area after receiving three letters of recommendation and conducting an interview of our own. Our doula was also employed by the birth center as a midwife assistant and instructed their childbirth education classes and lactation support. We asked all the necessary questions, which you are advised to ask before having an out-of-hospital birth, and received more than satisfactory answers.

I did searches on the Internet and local newspapers and could not find anything negative about the birth center or any party involved. We even attended natural childbirth classes outside of the birth center, where we received statistics on all of the local hospitals and their Cesarean section rates and how they were unnecessarily high. We further took private hypnobirthing classes in our home. My husband was still recovering from recent knee surgery, so we asked our sister-in-law to be our coach. She happily agreed and attended all the childbirth classes with us. I thought we were prepared.

My pregnancy was completely normal without any complications. After many false alarms, I finally went into labor on a Sunday morning around 6 a.m. with intense contractions about 12 minutes apart and slowly getting closer together. After laboring by myself all day at home (and walking the block multiple times) I contacted my support team and the midwife on call. It was about 6 p.m. now. The contractions were five minutes apart lasting about 60 seconds.

After the midwife listened to me labor through one of the contractions over the phone she advised us to not hurry, but to go ahead and come to the birth center. Our doula was to meet us there.

I was in pain and decided to labor in the shower. At about 7:30 p.m. on the way to the birth center I threw up twice and was already shaking. I thought to myself, "Wow, could I be in transition?" Walking up to the birth center I threw up again.

I immediately began to labor in the shower again, but felt little relief now. The shower felt cold and I couldn't stand still, feeling it necessary to rock from side to side. Shortly after getting in the shower the midwife told me it was necessary for them to check how far dilated I was. I was afraid that if I was not that far along that I would panic and told my sister-in-law that I did not want to know how far along I was. Months later I learned that at this time I was only 2 centimeters dilated.

I begged to labor in the Jacuzzi tub. Within an hour of being in the tub I was unable to speak through the contractions. I sat in the built-in seat in the Jacuzzi tub and closed my eyes and for some reason felt it necessary to rock my head back and forth and continuously bend and straighten one of my legs over and over. The pain was unbelievable.

I remember listening to the sound of the jets in the tub and it reminded me of the pedicure my sister-in-law and I had gone to get only weeks before. With the sound of her voice and the jets from the tub I just replayed the pedicure over and over in my memory. It took all of my concentration to envision myself somewhere else, and as crazy as it sounds, I think it is the only thing that got me through it. The reason it helped was not because I felt like I was reliving the foot message, but it worked because I was envisioning myself somewhere else.

This was nothing I had planned on doing and nothing I practiced during my hypnobirthing classes. I didn't use any of the hypnobirthing techniques. I certainly was not quiet and I absolutely felt every bit of pain. It was just a good distraction.

Anyway, around 5 a.m. the next day the midwife informed me that she would need to check me again. When I asked how far dilated I was she told me I was doing fine. Between contractions I again asked her and she said, "Don't worry, you are more than halfway." I looked her directly in the eye (between contractions) and asked her, "Can I do this?" She looked me in the eye and said, "Yes you can. You are more than half way." Months later I learned I was only 5 centimeters dilated at this time.

She told me that I needed to change positions until I felt something different because the baby's head was on an angle and we needed to get it to turn. She had me try various different things and eventually she had my sister-in-law get into the tub with me and apply all her weight onto one of my knees, pushing my leg back against the back of the tub. If certainly felt different, but in hindsight it was like when you hurt your finger so you step on your own toe to differ the pain.

Anyway, after awhile the midwife asked me if I felt like pushing. I said I didn't know. She said I would know because I would feel different. My sister-in-law got out of the tub and I labored on all fours in the tub for awhile. I told her I felt different and asked if I should push. She said I could if I wanted to. So I started pushing. Nothing was happening. The midwife told me I needed to get out of the tub and try something different.

I labored on the toilet for awhile while my husband vigorously massaged my head and my sister-in-law and doula pressed alternating heated rice sacks against my back. The midwife held the Doppler against my belly and said I need to lie on my side because my heart rate had dipped. So I lay on the bed and this was the most unbearable pain I had been in yet. I knew that if I had to continue to have to labor in this position that I wouldn't be able to take the pain.

They told me I could get up. It was about 7 a.m. now and the contractions were one on top of the next. I labored at the foot of the bed for awhile, holding onto the bedrail and sitting on a birth ball between contractions.

Finally I felt the real urge to push, which felt like I needed to make a bowel movement only I knew it was a bowel movement. Anyway, I pushed and pushed. At one point I looked down and saw a brownish red liquid running down my leg. I asked the midwife if this was my water breaking. She said it was just normal birth fluid. She kept telling me to try different positions. I labored squatting. I labored lying on the bed. I was exhausted. Everything I had eaten or drank since I arrived at the birth center I had vomited.

Finally they said they could see the head. Just one more push they kept telling me. Each time I stopped pushing the baby would slide back in. Over and over they kept telling me just one more push. I started to think I might die and the baby might never be born.

Finally someone took my hand and put it on her head. I couldn't believe it. She was really right there. Two more pushes and her head was out. It was 12:23 p.m. more than 30 hours after my first contraction.

The midwife shouted, "I have meconium here, I have meconium." The birth assistant was frozen. The midwife told me not to push, and my doula left my side saying, "I've got it, I've got it" and started assisting the midwife. The midwife assistant remained still.

The midwife suctioned and then ordered me to start pushing. So I pushed. She told me I had to push harder. I told her I was pushing as hard as I could. She told me we have to get this baby out now! So I pushed with every bit of strength left in me and I felt her slide out of me.

There was a lot of commotion. "Why isn't she crying?" I asked. And no one answered. "Why isn't she crying?" I begged.

"She's alright," the midwife told us. "She just got a little stressed on the way out so she had a bowel movement and we need to get it out before she takes her first breath." Then they laid her on my chest. I had a rush of emotions. This was my baby that just came from my body!

She was the worst color gray you can possibly imagine. "What is wrong?" I kept asking. The midwife was vigorously rubbing her and tumping the bottoms of her feet. The doula kept reminding me to say her name. "Hi, baby, I am your mama. Come on and give us a little cry, Jayna. Mama's right here." Her eyes were open and she was looking at me the whole time. Still no cry.

"It took you long enough, Mama," the doula told me, and I was stung with guilt. Jayna looked like she was getting worse and worse and I insisted to the midwife and the entire room. The midwife assured us she was getting better. "Look, she's pinking up," she told us. She was not pink anywhere. I told the midwife, "If you think we should go to the hospital just to have her checked out, I would rather be safe than sorry." She told me she didn't feel that was necessary. She just had a rough trip and needed some time to adjust to being here, she told me.

I continued to request to be taken to the hospital, and the midwife continued to ignore my request. Then she told us she needed to weigh her in the other room. I sent my husband with her. I insisted to my sister-in-law that if the midwife didn't transport us to the hospital that we would go on our own. I knew something was not right, but I had no idea how bad things were.

When the midwife returned with my husband and baby, all the sudden the mood changed. The midwife said that we were going to go to the hospital just to have her checked out and that she had called for transport so we needed to get ready to leave. It was one hour and 23 minutes after Jayna's birth.

She started delegating tasks. Telling my sister-in-law to collect our things and my husband to help me sit up and get dressed. I sat up in bed for the first time since she was born and realized I was sitting in a pool of blood. My husband helped me swing my legs off the end of the bed and put on my clothes with blood still dripping to my ankles.

I looked up and saw the midwife doing mouth-to-mouth and chest compressions on my baby, who was lying there half dressed in the pink little bunny sute I had picked out months in advance for her to wear home for the first time. So many times I had envisioned what she would look like in this little suit, but never had I envisioned her like this.

My whole world stopped. The doula buried her head in her hands and my sister-in-law began to cry as I clung to my husband's arm, who was as motionless as I. "Don't cry," I demanded my sister-in-law, "or you will make it real." Within moments the ambulance arrived.

Jayna was treated at a local hospital where we were told she was very sick and that there was nothing more that they could do for her. The doctor reached across me and picked up a phone. He addressed another hospital and said, "We have a dying baby here."

Jayna was then taken to another local hospital by helicopter where we learned she was suffering from meconium aspiration syndrome. They debated if she was even "salvageable" and gave her less than a 5 percent chance for survival.

She spent the first seven days of her life on a machine called ECMO, which is a heart and lung bypass machine similar to what they use during bypass surgery. Jayna was on a ventilator for an additional two weeks. She suffered permanent brain damage from oxygen deprivation and we were told that if she survived she might not be anything more than a vegetable. She spent 32 days in the NICU.

I separated my pelvis during labor and delivery.

Today Jayna is 2 1/2 years old. She does have continuous health problems, but thanks to a miracle from God she has yet to show any signs of developmental delays. She knows her ABCs and 123s and loves horses and anything purple. She loves to run, jump and play. She is the light of my life and our whole world. We thank God every day for giving us the gift of her life and for letting her stay here with us.

I shared our story not to scare soon-to-be mommies, but to raise awareness of the risk of out-of-hospital births. You will read about how safe out-of-hospital births are. How the staff is equipped to recognize and handle emergencies. I am here to tell you that no matter what the odds are, your baby is not worth the risk. Your child is the most precious gift you will ever receive.

While it is true that mistakes can happen anywhere, if you are in a hospital where there is more staff and equipment to handle the situation once recognized, your and your baby's chance for survival will be greater. Even if the chances are one in a million. Your baby could be that one, and it is not worth risking their life.

It doesn't matter where you live or how qualified the midwife. If you are not in a hospital you are increasing your and your baby's risk. There is nothing I wouldn't endure if I could only take back the suffering that my daughter has had to and continues to endure. I would be glad to answer any questions. Feel free to contact me at the e-mail address above.