August 14, 2024
In
Postpartum, Pregnancy, Resources
Medicated vs. Unmedicated Labor Experiences
My initial perception of labor was one of excruciating pain and fear. That perspective completely changed when I was present at my cousin’s first birth nineteen years ago. It was a life-changing experience. In that moment, it felt as though God had come down from heaven. The energy in the room was incredibly powerful. I witnessed a new human being enter the world, and it filled me with awe. My cousin’s birth seemed calm, beautiful, and empowering. Seeing her experience transformed the way I viewed labor and birth forever.
MY FIRST BIRTH STORY
At 34, I decided it was finally time to have a child. I had postponed motherhood for years, but eventually I felt ready. Even so, deep down I was terrified—of giving birth, of the unknown, and of the enormous responsibility of caring for a baby. This new chapter felt exciting but also overwhelming and uncertain.
When I became pregnant with my daughter, I didn’t educate myself very much about birth. I glanced at one birth book, attended one childbirth class, and went to my regular OB appointments.
I ended up having an unexpected cesarean birth that left me with intense physical pain, postpartum depression, and birth trauma.
Two weeks before my due date, on a Sunday, I started having contractions. They were irregular and mild enough that I could continue my normal daily activities. That night, while my husband slept, I stayed on the floor timing contractions and resting between them. I remember spending most of the night on my hands and knees or lying on my side.
Around 3:00 a.m., my contractions became much stronger. I took a shower, packed my hospital bag, woke my husband, and we drove to the hospital.
When we arrived, one nurse checked me and said I was about six centimeters dilated. Another nurse came and she examined me again but wasn’t certain about something, so they performed an ultrasound. That’s when they told me my baby was in a breech position and that I needed an emergency cesarean birth.
I didn’t know what to think. I had never learned much about emergencies and breech babies, so I completely relied on the medical staff, not really understanding what was about to happen.
One of my biggest fears since childhood has been needles. Receiving the spinal anesthesia was incredibly frightening and uncomfortable. As a child growing up in Poland, I often received antibiotic injections in my buttocks when I was sick. I remember screaming and trying to run away from nurses. Those memories came rushing back.
Soon afterward, I was taken into a very cold operating room. From my chest down, I was completely numb. The staff transferred me onto the operating table, and I remember feeling heavy, awkward, and vulnerable. A curtain was placed in front of me, my hands were strapped, and the surgery began.
Although I couldn’t feel pain, I could feel the pulling and tugging. My body began shaking uncontrollably, and the nurses placed a warm blanket over my chest. My husband stood beside me, but I think he was just as scared and overwhelmed as I was.
Much of what happened afterward feels like a blur.
I remember they placed my daughter, wrapped in a blanket, next to my head, and I couldn’t hold her as my arms were strapped. I remember saying hello to her, and she responded to the sound of my voice. That moment remains one of the clearest memories from that day.
After surgery, everything felt hazy. I was moved to recovery and then to my hospital room. The nurses frequently asked me to rate my pain. I remember either later that day or the following day, two nurses helped me out of bed to use the bathroom. They supported my body as I slowly walked and helped lower me onto the toilet. I felt old.
I was in so much pain and shock that I couldn’t even sit down by myself. I felt completely powerless.
One memory that still stands out is needing to sneeze. I was terrified because I thought the pressure might cause my incision to open. A nurse suggested holding a pillow against my abdomen, but even with the pillow, sneezing was incredibly painful. Laughing and even blowing my nose also hurt a lot.
One blessing was that my milk came in immediately, and I was able to breastfeed my daughter from the start.
When we returned home, I quickly realized how limited my body was. After coming home from the hospital, I tried to bend down to pick something up from the floor, but an intense pain stopped me immediately. It took nearly two years before the pulling sensation around my incision completely disappeared. Returning to work just ten weeks after the surgery which made everything even harder. I was physically recovering, emotionally exhausted, depleted, and overwhelmed by motherhood.
I often found myself sitting in Los Angeles traffic on my commute to work, feeling guilty that I wasn’t home with my baby. During those long drives, everything felt unbearably heavy. I later realized I was experiencing postpartum depression.
After spending nearly two years commuting more than an hour each way, I finally made the difficult decision to leave my full-time, demanding job. A month later, I found a part-time position that eventually became full-time. It was much closer to home, less stressful, and allowed me to begin rebuilding my life.
Looking back, my birth experience profoundly shaped me. For many years, it made me believe I could never have another child. I often wondered, How could anyone want to go through that again? But over time, my healing journey also led me to seek a deeper understanding of birth, trauma, and the support that every family deserves during one of the most transformative experiences of their lives.
MY HEALING BIRTH STORY
Four years later, I decided to try again. This time, however, I was determined that if it was safe for me and my baby, I would not have another cesarean birth. I wanted to experience an unmedicated/physiological/vaginal birth.
As I began preparing for this pregnancy, I learned something that completely changed how I viewed my first birth. My daughter had been in a frank breech position, a position that, with an experienced provider and under appropriate circumstances, can allow for a vaginal birth. Learning this left me feeling deeply betrayed. I couldn’t stop wondering if I had truly been given all of my options.
That determination led me to search for a supportive doctor and a doula who believed in physiological birth. I immersed myself in learning. I took HypnoBirthing classes and attended one of Dr. Stu’s workshops on the art of breech birth.
I will never forget that class.
I was about six months pregnant, sitting in a room full of strangers, when I suddenly burst into tears. I cried harder than I had in years. For the first time, I allowed myself to fully feel the grief, anger, and betrayal surrounding my first birth. Learning that my daughter might have been born vaginally opened something inside me. It was the first time I truly let those emotions surface. Until then, I had buried my feelings so deeply that no one, including myself, could fully see them.
My healing journey had finally begun.
During my first trimester, I also began experiencing significant lower back pain. My doctor referred me to Ozar Wellness House, where I received chiropractic care, acupuncture, massage therapy, learned foot-strengthening exercises, and practiced Pilates. Within a few sessions, my pain disappeared. During my third trimester, I also enrolled in prenatal yoga, which helped me feel stronger, more connected to my body, and more confident as birth approached.
About three weeks before my due date, I began experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions. I’d had them for about five days before they became noticeable.
Four days into Braxton Hicks I had my prenatal appointment, and then I went back to work as usual. I remember walking to my car after work, holding my belly because it felt incredibly heavy. I called my doula to tell her that my contractions seemed stronger and closer together. She calmly suggested I take a warm bath and drink a glass of wine to help me relax. I followed her advice.
The moment I stepped out of the bathtub and dried myself, everything changed. My contractions became much more intense. I called my doula again, and she told me it was time to head to the hospital. Shortly afterward, she arrived at our house. As soon as she walked in, I threw up my entire dinner, a sign that active labor had truly begun.
At the hospital, I remember stopping every few steps during contractions. I would kneel, lean against the wall or railing, and breathe until the wave passed.
Once we entered the birth room, I immediately got into the bathtub. My husband sat beside me and read HypnoBirthing affirmations while I sat in the warm water. At one point, I even fell asleep for a short while between contractions. When I woke up, I no longer felt comfortable in the tub, so I stepped out and sat on a yoga ball.
As the morning progressed, exhaustion set in. I looked at my doula and said, “I can’t do this anymore. I think I need an epidural.”
She looked straight into my eyes and simply said, “You can do this.”
Those four words were exactly what I needed.
For a while, I lay on the hospital bed in a reclined position. Almost immediately, I experienced excruciating pain shooting through my legs. I didn’t understand it then, but now I know that position wasn’t working for my body.
The nurses offered to break my water, but I declined. After my first birth, I was afraid that any intervention might start a cascade leading to another cesarean. At that moment, I didn’t want anyone to interfere. I simply wanted to trust my body.
My doula encouraged me to get up and move again.
As soon as I stood, I felt an overwhelming pressure deep in my pelvis, followed by the unmistakable urge to have a bowel movement.
My body was taking over.
The nurses guided me back to the bed because my baby was coming.
When it was time to push, I remember feeling confused about breathing and pushing because my body was already pushing on its own. I wasn’t making it happen, I was simply following it.
The doctor arrived just as I began pushing. Since my water hadn’t broken, she jokingly put on a face shield, saying it might splash everywhere.
The nurses kept telling me, “Your baby is almost here.”
I didn’t believe them.
I was exhausted again and felt like I had nothing left to give.
Then, after one or two more pushes, everything changed.
My son was born at 11:57 a.m., and my placenta was born right away.
It was one of the most powerful moments of my life.
Our birth plan included delayed cord clamping, but because my placenta was delivered immediately afterward, the doctor explained that, according to the hospital’s protocol, it was safest to clamp the cord right away. My husband cut the umbilical cord, and although we were disappointed that we couldn’t delay the clamping, we were overwhelmed with gratitude that our son had arrived safely.
After years of carrying fear from my first birth, I had finally experienced what I had hoped for, a birth that left me feeling strong, capable, and deeply connected to my body.
That birth didn’t erase my trauma.
It transformed it.
It showed me that birth could be powerful instead of frightening, healing instead of disempowering. It became the experience that ultimately led me to become a doula, so I could help other families feel informed, supported, and truly seen during one of the most important moments of their lives.
SUMMARY
MY MEDICATED BIRTH
Long recovery / healing of the wound, about 3-4 months and it took 2 years for it to heal completely.
Trauma / Postpartum depression
Very painful and slow recovery
Not mobile for 2 days and baby steps for a week and had to be very careful for about 2 months
MY UNMEDICATED BIRTH
Short recovery (a day or two)
Happy mama
Zero pain after birth and postpartum
Mobile right after the birth
Photography of my son’s birth taken by an amazing doula and birth photographer, Lauren Guilford.