At 7:09 a.m. on a summer morning I got a text letting me know that labor had likely begun. She had started contracting around 3:00 a.m., alongside mucous discharge and a few rounds of diarrhea. The contractions were consistent, and she got up and moving for the day. By 9:27, they had slowed down, but at 1:32 p.m. they picked back up with more intensity, again paired with diarrhea.

Throughout the day, Mom alternated between rest and movement. She napped with hubs & her toddler—lots of snuggles and good cuddling moments—while also practicing intentional movement with the Miles Circuit. By 4:39 p.m., we spoke on the phone. She shared how her day had gone, and we discussed shifting her mindset: rather than pushing activity to try to force things forward, I encouraged her to prepare her body and mind for evening rest. I gave her a gentle “labor warm-up” plan to use if she felt like she needed more movement.

By 6:17 p.m., Mom texted that contractions were stronger, and she was beginning to get the shakes. Concerned about transition, I made my way to her house. About 20 minutes later, I arrived and found her on all fours draped over a birth ball, Dad rubbing her back as she breathed beautifully through her contractions. It was clear that she was in labor, though I suspected the baby might be in a less-than-ideal position given her stop-and-go pattern. Still, she was in a safe, active labor rhythm, and I suggested we head toward the hospital.

Mom was hesitant, worried about arriving “too soon” and facing pressure from staff. I reassured her that since the hospital was just 20 minutes away, we could take our time and even choose not to go in right away if she wasn’t ready. Together, she and her husband packed their car, kissed her daughter & mom goodbye through some emotional tears, and prepared to leave home. I made sure everyone was fed and hydrated—packing a dinner plate for Dad, feeding the littlest sister, and making sure Mom had snacks and water for the ride.

At 7:18 p.m., we drove to Miami Valley Hospital. We lingered in the parking lot and waiting room, making sure Mom felt ready before officially checking in. I reminded her she was always in charge—if triage didn’t feel right, she could step out and come back later. At 8:09 p.m., her husband came back to report that she was 4–5 cm, with her bag of waters still intact but no baby felt. By 8:43, we were walking together to Room 2016—the same year she and hubs were married, a sweet sign of alignment.

Once settled, contractions intensified. At 9:20, she struggled lying flat on her back with the monitors, furrowing her brow in discomfort. I quickly repositioned her into flying cowgirl by 9:37, which helped her focus. At 9:49, I prayed over her, and soon after, Dr. Mick came in and reassured us that she had a “happy baby” on the monitor. By 10:23, Mom was draped over the back of the bed, headphones in with worship music, fully “in the zone.” She snacked on chips and granola between contractions, even joking with her husband about chip clips.

She moved through lunges, forward-leaning positions, and by 11:18, the nurse noted baby was low, though struggled to keep the monitor in place. Despite interruptions, Mom remained calm and kind. At 11:48, the nurse administered IV fluids, explaining it would “resuscitate” the baby—an unclear explanation that unsettled us all. Shaking with the intensity of contractions, she was checked and told she was “complete,” only to be rechecked moments later and told she was 6–7 cm instead. That confusion was hard to process, but she carried on bravely.

By 12:06 a.m., Mom asked for another layer of support, as she had coped with only her breath until now. A water birth tub was prepared, but delays and a leak made the process long and frustrating. Finally, at 12:50, she was able to float in the tub—relieved, moving beautifully with each wave. She stayed centered, even as staff fussed with monitors.

At 1:57 a.m., Dr. Mick checked her in the tub and shared that baby was still high, unable to even determine dilation or break her water. We all felt discouraged and perplexed.  At 3:37, she was 8–9 cm, but baby’s position was still unclear. I gently encouraged her out of the tub so gravity could help. She agreed, though she had been comfortable there. Standing by the bed through contractions, she worked calmly even as nurses fumbled with IVs. At 4:07, she thought her water might be leaking, and as we asked the nurse to swab to confirm, the bag finally broke in a dramatic gush—just as blood dripped from her hand due to an IV mishap. We caught each other’s eyes with unspoken groanings through that level of chaos.

At 4:52 a.m., Mom received her epidural. With pain relief, she finally rested. By 6:37, she was catheterized, and by 8:30, we were surprised to hear she was only 6 cm again. Dr. Neva explained that the intact water bag had likely been holding her cervix open, and once it broke without baby descending, the cervix closed slightly. Contraction strength was then measured with an internal monitor.

With her Mom and Mother-In-Law present now we went to work! We doubled down on intentional techniques: forward-leaning inversion, abdominal lift and tucks, exaggerated runner’s lunges, side-lying releases, hip shaking and jiggling. By 11:00 a.m., she was 7–8 cm, and by 1:30 p.m. contractions were surging back to back. At 3:08, she was 9 cm, though Pitocin was added to regulate her pattern. We continued repositioning with peanut ball, flying cowgirl, side releases, and hands-on massage.

Mom leaned not only on her breath and her body but also on her faith. Scripture was spoken over her, and prayers rose up at pivotal moments. Her mother prayed aloud, declaring God’s Word when she needed strength, and her husband, steady and tender, read his Bible to her as she rested. Worship music filled the room, creating a holy atmosphere.

Finally, at 7:26 p.m., she was 10 cm and +1 station—baby was coming down at last. At 7:42, Mom began pushing in earnest. With a mirror to watch her progress, she found encouragement and strength. Surrounded by her husband, her mother, and her mother-in-law, she pushed with power and grace. At 10:07 p.m., their baby was born—crying right away, placed immediately in Mom’s arms.

Her husband was loving and attentive every step of the way, and her mothers were incredible support—cheering her on and even supporting me when I grew weary. Dr. Neva showed remarkable patience and trust, intervening only with Pitocin, and allowing Moms body the space it needed to bring her baby earthside.

Her VBAC was long, layered, and full of twists, but she remained calm, kind, and steady throughout—never losing her sweetness, never giving up. Her baby’s arrival was the beautiful culmination of her strength, her faith, her support team, and her deep love for her family.

There were no stitches, only a small tear, and an overwhelming sense of victory. This VBAC was not only a physical triumph, but also a spiritual one. Her mother’s prayers, her husband’s scripture readings, and her very own whispered cries to the Lord carried her through.

Her birth was a testimony of patience, perseverance, and faith. She never stopped trusting her body, her baby, or her God. And in the end, she was met with the sweetest reward—the sound of her baby’s first cry, the warmth of their skin-to-skin embrace, and the joy of knowing she had done it.

A sacred story of strength, family, prayer, and love.