Have you ever tried something once, endured a horrific experience (albeit with a happy ending), and endeavored to try again? You know in your heart you can do it, with the right preparation, perseverance, and support. So, with a guru’s guidance, you press forward. That was me, trying a VBAC. I knew I really wanted to have a natural birth, I knew it was good for the baby, and so I tried really hard to make it happen. The first time, it didn’t (understatement). The next time, I consulted numerous professionals, and the doctor considered the best in the area believed in me. It made all the difference. Thank God for him.
So how did I get to that day, Andy’s birth day, holding my sister’s hand in a Jacuzzi suite at Martha Jefferson Hospital? It took a lot of chutzpah and God’s grace. When I found out I was pregnant, I went to the same OB/GYN practice I frequented while pregnant with Sasha. When I told the doctor I would like a VBAC, she told me about how dangerous they were, proceeded to list all the dangers, and said she would absolutely not recommend them. And also, she was too busy being a mom to actually deliver any more babies, so she wouldn’t even be the one helping me when I went into labor. Although VBACs are not for everyone and do pose considerable risk, I knew I was actually a very good candidate, medically speaking, so I had to find another doctor stat. A doctor who believed in me and my baby. And preferably one who wanted to deliver kids.
The most frequent recommendation was a doctor at Martha Jefferson. I liked the doctor’s practical approach, his stellar track record (figuratively and literally speaking, because he’s a long-distance runner), and his sense of humor. Amazingly, though I was already over four months pregnant at that point, he decided to take me on as a new patient! Praise God! This really was a life-changing blessing for me. Were it not for his encouragement of me and patience and guiding wisdom, I don’t think I would be able to deliver little Andy naturally.
The doctor advised me not to gain more than 25-30lbs. I took care of my body while pregnant. I went swimming at least twice a week at the UVA pool, kept the chocolate croissants to a minimum, and walked my favorite nature trail at least once a week. I tried to finish all my graduate school assignments ahead of time so that I would not have to cram in April when I’m supposed to be resting. I was doing well in school and I felt good about everything.
But alarmingly, the baby was breach just a few weeks away from his due date. I was starting to panic. Here I tried so hard to position myself for a successful VBAC, and this little guy wouldn’t even give me the opportunity. I talked to my grandma who was a OB/GYN in Ukraine. I told her my troubles. She said, “Don’t worry. He’ll turn.”
“How do you know?” I pleaded.
“Don’t worry.”
A relative suggested some Japanese exercises which were basically the butterfly pose in yoga with the hands in prayer position while lying on one’s back. One moves the hands up and the feet out simultaneously and then slowly returns to the starting position. I found these exercises calming. I also walked more, as much as I had time for given my studies. And wouldn’t you know? Little Andy turned.
A week before my due date, big Andy came to Charlottesville so that he would definitely not miss the delivery (him mom came later and helped me a lot, too). We spent a lot of time outside, walking along streams and rivers, spending time with my daughter, just being together. The funny thing was, my due date came and went, and there was no sign that this baby wanted to come out. A friend recommended some natural medicine, and big Andy recommended sex. My doctor said I should try castor oil.
Have you ever tried castor oil? Don’t. Let’s just say it made everything start going, including labor! Soon I was in Martha Jefferson with regular contractions, getting as comfortable as possible in a bath tub. I knew that water really calms me and acts as a natural epidural, and I got to 10cm surprisingly quickly. This was a really big deal because with Sasha, I was stuck at 8cm. To be at 10 was a triumph in itself!
My doctor said it was time to start pushing. However, I did not have the urge to push. I was experiencing back labor, so I was in a lot of pain, but I couldn’t be in water anymore. A spiky-haired nursed recommended several positions to relieve the pain, and nothing seemed to work. I thought I could squat like some sort of natural birth sumo master, but instead I was on the bed pushing while holding my breath. I thought I was supposed to breathe when pushing, but my doctor said I needed to hold my breath. I had to adjust quickly, mentally flexible like a very pregnant warrior (think Chris Farley in Beverly Hills Ninja). Truthfully, it took me a while to get the hang of it. Hours later, we were finally getting somewhere. Was it because the doctor threatened to use the forceps or was it because my sister told me “Well, I guess you’ll be having this baby tomorrow (it was Friday night)?” Suddenly, my pushing became like God pushing creation into being. I pushed very hard and the doctor said, “Prepare the nursery!” Those words made me so excited and so happy, and made me push harder. With my husband’s help and the help from my sister, I was able to give birth to little Andy naturally.
How did I feel? Everything hurt and I felt relieved to be done and holding my baby. Wow. We did it. I did it. Thank you, Lord.
Three days later I had a dream. I fell asleep in the middle of the day and my grandma appeared to me saying “Vsye budet khorosho.” Everything will be okay. I took that to mean about the baby. It was a very short dream. I saw her, heard her, and then woke up. I told my sister and my husband. I asked my dad about how grandma was doing (my mom had gone a few weeks back to take care of her because she was very sick. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I will be fine.”). My dad avoided the question. Only on Friday did my mom call me to let me know my grandma had passed. Can you guess when? On Monday.
My parents said they did not want to tell me earlier because they didn’t want to affect my milk supply (upset mamas may make less milk). And I think if my grandma hadn’t appeared to me, I would be very upset. But she gave me a gift, and so I felt loved and surrounded by her care. And she had seen pictures of little Andy before she died. And she was proud of me.
So, I felt sad, but so grateful for little Andy to continue our line, her line. And he is playful and joyful like her. I like to think that she watches over him, and for that I am so grateful. My grandma was always courageous, and I pray that she can help me have that courage for the rest of my life, to do things I believe in. If I fail, at least I tried. If I succeed, I may witness a miracle. Either way, a strength pushes through inside me, and as I count my blessings, my children are first on the list. Thank you to everyone who helped me! Baba Nina, high five! We did it!