On Wednesday night, June 5, I started having some light contractions, but definitely not Braxton Hicks. I was a week overdue. I went to bed early, thinking that I was going to have to tell Joe (my husband) the next morning not to go to work. Well, sure enough, they never got any closer than 15 minutes apart, so Joe went to work the next day.

They stayed pretty consistent through Thursday, but never got stronger or closer together. I spent a rather uncomfortable day trying to keep my 2-year-old occupied, and I was exhausted by the time Joe got home from work. I went to bed early Thursday night, but didn't get much sleep because the contractions were starting to pick up some and get stronger. I was pretty sure I was in labor. I had a hard time believing it because I really thought I was doomed to be induced. I had a Monday doctor's appointment looming, so I had almost given up on going into labor on my own.

I didn't get much sleep Thursday night, as the contractions were definitely getting harder, and I was having some bloody show. Finally, at about 5:30 a.m. on Friday morning, I woke up Joe and starting loading up the truck for the hour drive to my mom's house where I wanted to do the majority of my laboring. The drive was HARD; it sucks having contractions while in an uncomfortable position!

When we got to my mom's house, Joe and I took a long walk. While we were walking, the contractions were coming about every three to five minutes, but they weren't as hard as I knew they should be. Joe was getting nervous, thinking we should head to the hospital, but I just knew it wasn't time yet. When we finished walking, I ate some breakfast and laid down for a rest. The contractions started slowing down, so I got a nap, but I also got discouraged. I knew this was real labor, but I couldn't understand why things weren't speeding up the way they were supposed to.

Finally around 1:30 p.m., the contractions started picking up again and gaining in duration and strength. Around 3:30 p.m., on the advice of my doula, we decided to go to the hospital to get checked and decide from there if we wanted to be admitted or go back to my mom's and labor some more. At the hospital, I was 3 centimeters dilated and completely effaced, good signs, but not enough to make me stay. The baby's heart rate was good, so we decided to leave the hospital.

When I got back to my mom's, we got in the whirlpool for a long time, took a walk and rested. Around 9:30 p.m. Friday night, I was having a hard time getting through the contractions. I was starting to shake with each contraction, so we decided it was time to troop back to the hospital. I was fully expecting to be 6 or 7 centimeters, well into active labor, but I was only 4 centimeters. I had been working so hard for so long, and I was really very discouraged to be only 4 centimeters! I tried not to let it bother me, though.

Once at the hospital, things really picked up. I started having very close contractions with triple peaks. At 1 a.m., I was checked and was at 7 centimeters. Progress, at least. Around 2:30 a.m., I started having some pushy contractions, so I was checked again, and I fully expected to be complete, but I was only 8 centimeters with a lip on the cervix that was swelling because of my premature urge to push. I had to lay on my side and pant through push contractions for about 20 minutes (HARD) to let the swelling go down. Then the nurse (also a practicing midwife) moved the lip of the cervix back while I pushed the head past it. That was probably the most painful thing I've ever done.

Let me also say that this is the point I really wanted to just give up. When I was laboring with my 2-year-old son, I did fine until I hit 8 centimeters. His head was swelling, and my cervix was swelling and that's when we decided on a Cesarean section. So, when I heard 8 centimeters and swelling, I thought it was over, and I was having another C-section. So when it came time to push the head past the lip of the cervix, I thought we were just delaying the inevitable.

Luckily, my doula and the nurse-midwife really encouraged me, and I finally got to 10 centimeters to start really pushing. I didn't realize this until later, but no one offered me pain medication. I had put it in my birth plan that I didn't want pain medication of any kind, so the doula told me that it was up to me to ask for it. She was going to discourage anyone from offering it to me. I'm so glad no one offered it to me, because I might have accepted and then regretted it later. As it was, I never even thought about it, and I got through the hardest part without it.

At around 2:30 a.m., I started pushing. I wasn't really having strong urges to push, so my pushes weren't that effective, and I was really wearing myself out. I eventually got better at it and started having strong urges to push. Well, I was working so hard, but the baby wasn't getting much further. I hated finishing a pushing contraction and having everyone tell me that I was almost done, but then having it drag on and on. I wound up pushing a little over three loooooong hours.

I finally did it, though. I pushed out my little girl! I got to see her crowning in a mirror; that was pretty neat. I didn't have an episiotomy, but I did have a second-degree tear. It's probably from me being so happy to have the head out that I kept pushing and the shoulders came out really fast. The doctor told me at one point that she could give me a little cut and the head would be out, but I decided that I wanted to keep pushing. It was only three contractions later that her head came out, and I tore a little. The stitches aren't too bad, though. Much better than a C-section scar!

Rylee was born at 5:35 a.m. Even though I was completely exhausted after such a long, drawn-out labor, I felt wonderful. I couldn't believe I had actually done it! No drugs, no interventions and my body worked the way it was supposed to. I had really thought my desire for a VBAC was a pipe dream, because the baby was big and post-mature (obstetricians are scared of both of those things, especially in VBACs). But, I did it! And, now I have a beautiful girl and a beautiful son. Life couldn't get any better!