Birth of Matilda “Tilly” Mae

✱ ✱ Tilly was born while Jill was with Binah Birth!

At 34 weeks, I started bleeding, because apparently pregnancy wasn’t dramatic enough already. It was enough to warrant a quick ultrasound with our favorite ultrasound tech, Lizzie, just to make sure everything was okay. Thankfully, it was.

Except… we discovered our sweet little girl had decided that head down was overrated and was comfortably settled into a frank breech/transverse position.

Enter Charlotte Scott. We started working together, knowing there was likely a physiological reason Matilda had found herself in such an unconventional position. So, rather than trying to force her into anything, we focused on creating the most optimal space possible for her to stay vertical. Because apparently even in utero, this child was going to do things on her own terms.

And then we waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

40+5 : Monday, August 10

At approximately 4:30am, I woke up convinced I was feeling my baby kicking me.

Spoiler alert: she was not kicking me.

My water was breaking.

Because of course it was.

I knew Jill was out of town, so I called Shoshanah to figure out what exactly I was supposed to do next. And yes, I absolutely asked her if I should still go to work.

Please give me grace.

It was 4:30 in the morning, my brain had approximately two functioning neurons, and I genuinely did not think my water would break first with this birth.

So, after establishing that no, I probably did not need to go to work, I called Jill. She immediately started making her way back from North Carolina to be with me.

Shoshanah arrived around 5:30am to check on baby girl. I wasn’t having strong or consistent contractions yet, so there wasn’t much to do except… wait.

And wait.

And wait.

My best friend came. My doula, Christie, arrived. And suddenly my house was full of the people I trusted most.

So naturally, we did ALL. THE. THINGS.

I curb walked.

I pumped.

I did CST with Shoshanah 😌.

I moved.

I breathed.

I tried every position known to mankind.

Basically, if someone told me it might help get a breech baby into a better position, I did it.

Madison, my photographer, doula, and friend  arrived, and having my entire little birth village gathered around me helped my mindset tremendously.

Later that day, I asked Jill to check me.

5cm dilated. 30% effaced.

Progress!

But there was a slight catch: Matilda was still frank breech, meaning her tiny little butt was the thing pressing on my cervix, except she wasn’t quite centered.

So basically, she was dilating me with her butt while simultaneously refusing to clock into the correct position.

We kept working.

We labored in the pool for a while, and around 9–10pm, I asked to be checked again because my contractions seemed to have completely forgotten they had a job.

Except…

7–8cm dilated. 50% effaced.

Okay, girl. I see you.

The problem was still positioning. She wasn’t centered,essentially an asynclitic butt, which is a phrase I never expected to say about my own child.

So Christie and my midwives decided it was time to make me WORK.

Squats.

Lunges.

Pumping.

More movement.

And then, because apparently everyone had decided I hadn’t suffered enough, I went to bed with a peanut ball.

I slept off and on through the night, contractions inconsistent and sporadic, until around 4–5am when they finally started getting closer.

I texted Jill.

“Okay… what now?”

We wanted to check me, potentially use some homeopathy, and then do an ultrasound to make sure there weren’t any cord issues.

When Shoshanah returned, she brought everything we needed…

…and a birthday cake for Madison because, naturally, it was HER birthday.

Nothing says “happy birthday” quite like showing up to your friend’s house while she’s in labor with a breech baby.

Jill checked me.

Very effaced. Still 7–8cm. But I was just chilling, not in active labor yet, and I’ve seen too many births to not think this is weird, but alas here we are. (And Madi agreed - it’s weird cause she was the same way) 

Which meant what we had been working toward had worked.

Now we just needed consistent contractions to bring this little girl down.

I decided to shower and have a moment alone.

And somewhere in that shower, I realized I felt like a watched pot.

And everyone knows a watched pot never boils.

I needed to recalibrate.

So when I got out, Jill and Madison were chatting, and I asked if I could talk to them. We had recently done many of these same things together at Madi’s birth, so I knew they understood exactly where my head was.

I told them I needed some time to myself.

Jill agreed.

She called a literal “meeting,” told everyone to shoo, set me up with an IV, and gave me the quiet I needed.

And then…

Within an hour of being alone, my contractions went from every 12 minutes…

to every 4 minutes.

And they got INTENSE.

Fast.

Somehow, Jill managed to get everyone back just in time.

And immediately, Christie put me to work on the dilation station — aka the toilet.

Because of course she did.

And, annoyingly, it worked.

Christie has this uncanny ability to know exactly what I need to do, even when every fiber of my being is screaming, absolutely not.

Then Jill and Madison knew.

It was time to pray.

They sang over me and prayed over me, and we all knew we were getting close to meeting this sweet little girl.

For a moment, we were in my TV/living area, and I thought, Yes. This is it. This would be a lovely place to have a baby.

And then I started transitioning.

And immediately I was like:

“Nope.”

“The ground is too hard.”

“My belly hurts between contractions.”

“This is all wrong.”

“I am losing my mind.”

So… back up the stairs we went.

Apparently everyone thought I would struggle with the stairs.

Instead, they later told me I basically flew up them.

Because apparently adrenaline is one hell of a drug.

Once upstairs, I started getting the urge to push.

But something felt incredibly uncomfortable.

Jill realized I had a cervical lip.

After a LOT of arguing on my part, because apparently even in transition I still had opinions, Jill made me push with her so she could move the lip out of the way.

And y’all. THE RELIEF.

Moving that lip created even more intense pressure to push, but suddenly my body knew exactly what it was supposed to do.

Matilda descended.

Her little butt appeared…

…and so did a WHOLEEEEEEE lot of meconium.

Because apparently she wanted to leave no detail out of her birth story.

Then came the acrobatics.

Because this girl had a triple nuchal cord wrapped around her neck, and one of her arms was tangled up in there with it.

So suddenly we had extra hands, some very impressive maneuvers, and everyone working together to help get her safely earthside.

And then…

She was out.

She needed a couple minutes of resuscitation, something that can be needed with breech babies because their lungs don’t experience the same compression during birth as a head-down baby’s do.

And then, just like that…

I heard her cry. And she was on my chest.

Our little trooper. Our little miracle. Our sweet rainbow baby.

Finally earthside. After so many prayers.

So many tears. So much waiting. So much surrender.

The relief was indescribable.

I felt so deeply supported throughout this entire pregnancy, but especially during those final days and hours. There was so much uncertainty surrounding how Matilda would arrive, and so much of this pregnancy became an exercise in letting go of the idea that I could control every detail.

Trust became the word that followed us through this pregnancy.

Trust her. Trust my body. Trust my team.Trust the process. Trust that however she needed to get here, she would. And in the end, surrendering what needed to happen was exactly what we needed.

Matilda didn’t follow the textbook. She didn’t take the easy route. She didn’t even bother getting herself head down. She came into this world exactly as she wanted to, on her own terms, in her own time, with her own little plot twists.

And honestly? I wouldn’t have expected anything less from our girl. Our rainbow baby is finally here.

And she was worth every prayer, every tear, every contraction, every squat, every lung(e), every pump, every peanut ball, every argument with my midwife…

and every single minute we spent waiting for her.

Welcome earthside, Matilda.

You were worth the wait. 🤍