Don’t worry. This is not one of those guilt-inducing soapbox rants. I’m simply going to share my birth story, for whatever it’s worth to you.

The main reason I opted for a drug-free birth was because I wanted to breastfeed right away and did not want the baby to be groggy from the drugs I had during labor. (Many people who use anesthesia during labor still are able to breastfee successfully, however.)

I soon discovered other reasons to “go natural.” For one, having drugs would hinder me from moving freely around the birthing suite because I would be hooked to an IV and a continuous internal fetal heart monitor.

I also learned that once you have one medical intervention, such as labor induction using pitocin, it usually leads to another (painkillers because induced labor is usually more painful) and another (episiotomy because the vaginal opening hasn’t had time to expand naturally) and another (use of forceps or vacuum).

Most of all, I wanted to be as clear-headed as possible for the big show. Having participated in this incredible miracle from conception through nine (really 10) months of gestation, I didn’t want to miss the final act!

I was pretty apprehensive in the final weeks. I’m kind of a wimp, really. So choosing natural childbirth either was going to be the bravest thing I’d ever done, or the stupidest!

Knowing this, I studied books on the subject (specifically about the Bradley method), researched all aspects of hospital birth practices on the Internet, put my wishes in writing using a Birth Plan template off the Internet, and chose nurse-midwife Gloria Dorris — a strong advocate of everything I wanted for my baby’s birth — as my provider. I felt so fortunate to have Gloria on my team!

I also surrounded myself with people who supported me, namely my husband Dave, my sister, my mother and a few key friends. You cannot underestimate the importance of support.

Dave and I arrived at East Ohio Regional Hospital at 4:30 a.m. Sunday, March 12, 2006. I had been having contractions for 23 hours and they seemed to be stalled at six minutes apart. When the nurse checked my cervix, it was only 1 centimeter dilated. In the process of checking me, she felt the cervix “pop,” which we determined was the separating of scar tissue from a decade-old outpatient surgery. The contractions picked up after that, and within an hour I was 2 centimeters dilated. They checked me in.

My labor seemed to progress well and we thought we’d have a baby by noon. I didn’t want the nurse to check my cervix because I didn’t think it was necessary until it was closer to “push” time. That time, however, didn’t come and didn’t come ...

I was Gloria’s first delivery at The BirthPlace, and she high-tailed it home from a family trip to Niagara Falls to get to the hospital. When she arrived at about noon, I was about 7-8 centimeters dilated. It should be soon, she said.

My baby had other plans. I remained all afternoon between 8 and almost 10 centimeters — in that painfully intense stage of “transition” that is only supposed to last a half-hour. I had severe back labor.

For awhile, I ambled around the suite, stopping every few minutes to grab onto something or someone while my husband Dave dug his fist into my lower back to relieve some of the pressure.

I howled. I groaned. I screamed. I vomited. I trembled uncontrollably. I actually felt embarrassed (the Bradley book talks of “pain-free” and “quiet” births), but I was going to do this. Dave was a rock (at least on the outside).

At about 4 p.m., Gloria called Dr. Robert Wetzel and told him the situation. He said if I didn’t deliver in two hours, he was going to perform a Caesarean section.

I think that motivated me, although subconsciously. My body’s natural painkillers put me in somewhat of a dream state.

So much for being clear-headed!

Gloria said she could give me pitocin to open up the cervix, but it would cause more pain. I declined the pitocin, and Dorris directed me into certain positions in hopes of speeding things up.

I finally hit 10 centimeters about 5 p.m. After the fact, we think it took so long because the baby was turning itself from a face-down to a face-up position.

Unfortunately, even though I was fully dilated, I had no urge to push. Dorris had another trick up her sleeve. She told me to sit on the toilet, a position that facilitates the spreading of the pelvis. Ideally, she would have had me use a “birthing chair,” which does the same thing without the “ew” factor. She could have told me to stick my head in a bowl of slugs at that point and I would have done it.

On the very next contraction, my baby’s head crowned.

With support on either side, I moved from the toilet to the bed, where I got on my knees and wrapped my arms around a large birthing ball placed under my chest.

About three more pushes, and at 5:16 p.m., Emma Skye McFarland entered the world. We did it!

Someone took the ball away and I tried to turn over, not comprehending the impossibility of that move — Emma’s umbilical cord was still attached to me. Dave passed her to me under my legs like a reverse “hike” in football. I laid down with her skin-to-skin on my chest. Within 15 minutes, she was nursing.

When they took her to be weighed and cleaned up about a half-hour later, I actually took a shower.

So that’s my birth story. Every mother has one. Share yours by submitting it here.