My Natural Hospital Birth: Unmedicated VBAC Birth Story
Honestly, I can’t believe I’m sitting here writing this post — because a little over a week ago, we did it. Our sweet Millee Lou made her dramatic entrance into the world.
A natural, unmedicated VBAC in a hospital setting.
Well… mostly. But we’ll get to that part later.
From the minute I found out about baby number four, I knew I wanted to have an unmedicated VBAC. Why? Because I wanted to prove to myself that I could — and more than that, I wanted to trust that God designed our bodies to do this.
I’ve experienced it all: a medicated vaginal birth, an emergency C-section, and a medicated VBAC. So this time, I really wanted to see what it would be like to do it with as little intervention as possible.
Now, I wish I could tell you this was the most beautiful, peaceful, empowering experience of my life… but that wouldn’t be honest.
It was hard.
It was messy.
And it stretched me in ways I didn’t expect.
But I’m still incredibly proud of myself — proud that I did it, proud that I trusted my body, and proud that I leaned into faith when things didn’t go exactly as planned. Some things went beautifully according to plan (and all that I prepped for — PS, if you’re looking for ways to prep for your own unmedicated birth or VBAC, you can check out this blog post), but other things? Not so much.
Before we go any further, please remember — this is just my experience. Every birth is different, and every story is beautiful in its own way.
Alright, let’s chat about my unmedicated VBAC experience.
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Early Labor
At 40 weeks and three days — after weeks of prodromal labor and wondering if every little twinge meant something — my water finally broke. Like, really broke.
I was lying in bed with my four-year-old daughter, who had just fallen asleep beside me, while my husband was putting our three and one-year-old boys down for the night. I suddenly felt something strange and texted him to hurry up because either my water had just broken… or my bladder control had officially gone to zero.
When he came back into the room, I stood up to check if anything had leaked onto the bed (which it didn’t, #blessed!)— and within seconds, a huge gush of water came pouring out of me. The first wave was like something straight out of a movie, but then it kept trickling for a good fifteen minutes.
While all that was happening, I called my mom so we could get the older kids to her house before things really started picking up. Thankfully, it was around 8 p.m. when my water broke, so no one had to make a middle-of-the-night trip.
About twenty minutes later, the contractions started. They were roughly ten minutes apart right from the beginning — steady and unmistakable. By the time my husband got back from dropping the kids off, it was around 10 p.m., and we started timing contractions. They quickly jumped to about two minutes apart and were growing more intense. The contraction timing app said it was time to head to the hospital.
I felt that mix of excitement and nerves bubbling up — knowing we were really about to meet our baby, but also wanting to stay calm and confident in the plan I had prepared for.
Before we left, we called the midwife, I grabbed my TENS unit and my birth comb — my little tools for coping — and we headed out the door toward the hospital to try to achieve my goal of an unmedicated VBAC.
Active Labor at the Hospital
Luckily, we were able to get admitted right away since my water had already broken. And I’m so glad we did, because things really started to get intense once we got there — back labor had begun in full force.
I had an incredible midwife and a student midwife who did everything they could to help me through the contractions. My husband was, as always, amazing — steady, supportive, and encouraging — but I started to spiral a bit. Back labor was something I hadn’t fully anticipated, and suddenly my usual breathing techniques weren’t enough. Every position felt worse than the last, and I found myself telling my husband more than once that I just… couldn’t do it anymore. But the contractions kept coming, relentless and unyielding.
By 2 a.m., exhaustion had set in. I was in tears, feeling completely drained, and finally decided to ask for an epidural so I could sleep.
Getting there was a story in itself. It took about an hour — and five tries with two different people — just to get an IV in for fluids before the epidural. And when I was finally ready, the anesthesiologist wasn’t available. Someone had an emergency, and suddenly, it was looking like the epidural might not happen at all.
My midwife looked at me and gently explained the reality: there was a good chance I wouldn’t get it, because transition was approaching fast. In that moment, I had to make a choice — sit in pain and hope the epidural arrived, or lean into what I had originally set out to do: have the birth I had planned.
I made the decision to focus as much as possible, use some nitrous oxide for relief (hence the mostly unmedicated/natural birth), and push through the intensity. By this point, it was around 4 a.m., and I braced myself to ride the waves as fully as I could. I started doing squats while holding onto my husband, and this was the first position that made me feel like she was actually moving down instead of just straight making things worse.
Pushing and Birth: Unmedicated VBAC
After doing 12-15 squats according to my husband, I switched things up and went to hands and knees on the bed right around 5 a.m. I started throwing up — and instantly knew what that meant. Transition.
My baby would (hopefully!) be here soon.
Right after that, I felt an overwhelming urge to push. I didn’t even ask if it was time; my body just took over. At first, it felt like nothing was happening, like I was pushing and pushing without progress. Then, finally, I felt her head start to move down.
The contractions were coming one on top of another, leaving barely a second to breathe between them. I was determined to get this girl out. The infamous “ring of fire” wasn’t nearly as bad as I had expected — but in that same moment, my midwife realized something wasn’t quite right.
They quickly helped flip me onto my back to finish pushing. Her hand ended up getting stuck, so they got that out and I kept going. It felt like forever, even though it was only about eight minutes in total. When she finally came out, she wasn’t breathing right away. They rushed her to the warmer to try to get her to start, and I could feel the energy in the room shift instantly.
Later, I learned that my placenta had started to detach early while I was pushing, so she hadn’t been getting enough oxygen. She had also swallowed quite a bit of fluid on her way out. Eventually, she began to breathe, but her blood gases didn’t look great, so they made the decision to take her straight to the NICU.
The moment they rolled in the NICU bed, it broke me. It brought back a flood of memories from when my second baby had spent eight weeks in the NICU, and I felt frozen — helpless — watching it happen all over again. I got to see her for just a second before they took her, and my husband went with her while I stayed behind.
I got to see her briefly before walking (or really, being wheeled) into the postpartum recovery room. However, being in there without my baby was one of the hardest moments of my life. The room felt so empty. I felt so scared and sad and exhausted.
But after neurological tests came back clear, fluid was suctioned from her lungs, and 16 long hours spent in the NICU, she was finally able to come back to our room.
When I finally got to hold her again — really hold her — after so much uncertainty, it was the most incredible feeling in the world. All I could do was thank God that she was safe in my arms.
Recovery and Reflection
After birth, I’ll be honest — I felt a little defeated. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d somehow failed. Things hadn’t gone exactly how I envisioned, and in those first few hours, I was deep in my head about it.
But once I had a little space and clarity, I realized that God was in every single moment of her birth.
Waiting for this girl to come was a mental hurdle in itself, but now I can see how even the timing was intentional. No one had to drive to the hospital or to get the other kiddos in the middle of the night — a small but meaningful blessing.
And the epidural situation? That was divine intervention too. I had prayed and prayed for an unmedicated birth, and even though in the moment I felt frustrated, it was the exact answer I needed. If I’d gotten that epidural, I might not have been as in tune with my body — and that awareness ended up being so important. When my midwife noticed something was wrong, she told me it was actually faster and safer for me to push her out than take any extra time to prep for an emergency C-section. Looking back, I’m so grateful for how it all unfolded.
I also have to give so much credit to my incredible midwife. Truly, I couldn’t have done it without her. If you’re in the DFW area and looking for care, I highly recommend Midwife + Co!
And while I’ll admit, I don’t necessarily feel the need to do it again anytime soon (ha!) or honestly ever again, my recovery this time around has been so much smoother. I didn’t tear — which still blows my mind, especially since homegirl weighed in at 9 pounds! I’m sure that’s made a huge difference, too.
To wrap up this post about my unmedicated VBAC…
Looking back, I can honestly say this birth stretched me in every possible way — physically, mentally, and spiritually. It wasn’t easy, and it definitely didn’t go exactly how I pictured, but it was beautiful in its own raw, powerful way. God was present in every contraction, every delay, every answered (and unanswered) prayer.
If you’re hoping for an unmedicated birth — especially in a hospital setting — know that it is possible. Trust your body, surround yourself with a supportive team, and invite God into every step of the process. Birth doesn’t have to be perfect to be powerful.
Birth stories are some of my favorite things to read. If you’ve written yours, drop a link or tell me about it in the comments!!
