A Story of the Impossible: My Positive, Unmedicated Vaginal Breech Birth
When the Plan Starts to Change
The story begins at my 28-week anatomy scan follow-up for baby boy. They wanted to recheck his kidneys—one had appeared slightly dilated—and finish the scan since he’d been hiding his face last time.
During the ultrasound, they confirmed he was breech (bottom-down rather than head-down, which is preferred for vaginal birth). At 28 weeks, there’s still plenty of time for baby to flip, and all the providers reassured me not to worry. I wanted to believe them, but something—mother’s intuition or maybe a nudge from God—told me he was going to stay breech.
Determined to help him turn and avoid a c-section, I consulted my doula and dove deep into the internet. I started a daily routine of time-consuming exercises and positions and began weekly chiropractic visits to align my body and create more space for him to move.
At 32 weeks, I had a growth ultrasound to check for intrauterine growth restriction, a concern with a bicornuate uterus. Thankfully, his growth looked great—but he was still breech. Again, I was reassured there was time, but if he hadn’t flipped by 36 weeks, they’d schedule a c-section.
By 34 weeks, I was growing discouraged. Every day that passed made it less likely he’d flip—and more likely I’d need surgery.
Somewhere in the haze of research, the idea of a vaginal breech birth entered my mind. I read up on it on the Evidence Based Birth website and decided it was worth discussing. For my 34-week appointment, I saw an OB instead of my usual midwife to talk about an ECV (external cephalic version) and the possibility of vaginal breech birth.
That appointment was disheartening. Due to the shape of my uterus, they wouldn’t attempt an ECV, and vaginal breech birth wasn’t an option at their facility either.
The final two months of pregnancy were incredibly hard on me emotionally. It’s difficult to explain the grief I felt—like I was failing myself and my baby. I mourned the birth I had hoped for. There were things I loved about my first son’s birth—cutting the cord, holding him immediately, a smooth recovery—that I feared I’d lose with a c-section.
Another concern was how I’d care for my two-year-old without nearby family. I pictured him saying “hold ya” and not being able to pick him up. How would I get him in his high chair, his car seat, his bed? I felt like I was going to lose part of my ability to mother him the way I wanted to
.
At 36 weeks, an ultrasound confirmed what I already knew from his movements—he was still breech. They scheduled my c-section. I was devastated.
I felt stuck. Do I surrender to the plan and prepare for surgery—or do I try to find someone who supports breech birth? I turned to my doula, who reached out to her network and found a single doctor, three hours away, with experience in vaginal breech births. I knew I had to at least explore the option to find peace with whatever decision I made.
I drove the three hours to meet him later that week. We talked for nearly an hour—about breech birth in the U.S., his experience, whether I was a good candidate, and what to expect. When I left, I felt a deep sense of peace and clarity. My husband and doula were both on board with moving forward.
But the peace didn’t last forever. In the final weeks, I wrestled with doubt. Was I being reckless? Was this too risky? I revisited the research over and over. Yes, there’s a slightly increased risk with vaginal breech birth—but the data shows it’s around a 1% increase in severe or minor birth injuries, and that risk is dramatically reduced when you’re working with an experienced provider.
The decision weighed heavily. In the end, I chose to schedule an induction at the hospital so I wouldn’t have to labor during the three-hour drive and could be closely monitored throughout.
We scheduled it for 7 AM on May 1st, 2025.
The Induction Begins
My husband and I drove up the night before and stayed in a hotel two minutes from the hospital. I slept fitfully—nerves and 39-week pregnancy aren’t a great combo. We checked in through the emergency entrance just before 7 AM.
After changing into a gown, I met my nurses, had labs drawn, an IV placed, and was monitored for 30 minutes to establish a baseline. Around 9 AM, my doctor arrived, introduced himself to my husband, reviewed the strip (which looked great), and checked my cervix—I was already at 2 cm. We decided to start with a dose of Cytotec vaginally.
That first dose started mild contractions—every 5 minutes, lasting 30–45 seconds, and very manageable (2/10 pain). After two hours of monitoring, I got up and tried to encourage progress: birth ball, cat/cow, walking the halls. My nurse popped in occasionally to check vitals and progress, but contractions remained steady without intensifying.
Around noon, I went back on the monitor. My doctor felt labor was moving enough on its own, so we decided to wait. In the afternoon, contractions grew slightly stronger—every 4–5 minutes, lasting 45–60 seconds, with pain around 3/10. I could still eat, move, and talk comfortably, so I figured we had a long way to go.
At 5:30 PM, we reassessed. I was only at 3 cm, so we agreed to try another dose of Cytotec—this time under my tongue. That picked things up to every 2–3 minutes, about 60 seconds each, and pain increased to 4–5/10. I was still coping well, using deep breathing, positive visualization, and relaxing through each wave. We updated my doula but told her it still felt like early labor.
My doctor suggested I try to rest, which is easier said than done with contractions every 2–3 minutes. I listened to calming music and a birth meditation, but between the discomfort and people coming in and out, rest was limited.
At 7:30 PM, my husband and I went for another hallway walk. I felt discouraged—contractions were regular but not intensifying, and I feared another long labor (my first was 26 hours). Afterward, I lay down and cried. I was mentally exhausted, so my husband called our doula for support, and she said she was on her way.
When Everything Aligned
Just 10 minutes later, while lying on my side talking to my husband, I felt a big kick—then a pop—and a gush of fluid. I told him I thought my water had broken. He got the nurses, who confirmed it and called my doctor.
My labor instantly shifted. Within two contractions, pain jumped from a 4 to an 8 out of 10. It felt like I had skipped hours of labor progression in minutes.
My husband called the doula again, and I stood up—fluid running down my legs—while contractions came every 2 minutes, each one more intense. I used combs in my hands (Google the gateway pain theory!), deep breathing, and relaxed my body while my husband applied counterpressure.
Our plan was to go unmedicated, since minimal intervention improves outcomes with breech. But the pain made me question everything. I asked to get in the birthing tub, knowing how much it had helped in my first labor.
By 10:10 PM, I was in the tub, contractions intensifying. My husband rubbed my back, and the nurses brought a cold cloth and fan. My doctor checked me while I was still in the tub—I was at 8 cm. I was shocked.
Minutes later, I started feeling pushy. The team encouraged me to get out of the water. It was so hard to move, but I managed to get onto the bed on hands and knees, leaning over a birth ball.
Time blurred. My body took over, and I pushed instinctively. After 3–4 contractions, I felt his body begin to crown. He was frank breech, with his feet by his face, so his bum emerged first. As his legs released, the pressure decreased dramatically. I knew I needed to get his arms and head out swiftly. With intense but focused pushing, I felt his whole body emerge.
I learned later from both the nursing staff and my doctor that things had gone as perfectly as they could have for a vaginal breech birth. The doctor never touched the baby during the birth, which is key in allowing the breech baby to come on their own without added pressure or traction. This method, sometimes referred to as “hands off the breech,” helps reduce complications and allows the baby to rotate and descend in the way they need to.
Once our baby boy was born, they immediately passed him through my legs so I could hold him. That moment — pulling him up to my chest, knowing I had just done something I wasn’t sure would be possible — was one of the most powerful and healing experiences of my life.
My placenta came out easily a 15 or os minutes later, and I was grateful to have no tears. I was able to hold him skin to skin for a full hour before anyone weighed or measured him. Those first sacred moments with him on my chest were everything I had hoped for and more.
Reflecting on the experience, I still can’t believe how everything aligned. The right provider. The right timing. This story is about more than just a breech birth. It’s about trusting myself, advocating for what felt right, and following the quiet voice that told me there was another way. I’m so glad I listened.
