Birth Story

I was afraid of pregnancy—the changes inside and out and the pain. I was afraid of labor, of the possibly unknown start of it, and of the pain, the pain, the pain. I was afraid of the new stage, of the seemingly endless sleepless nights. I was afraid that I wouldn't be a good mom to three, that I would be stretched too thin to have the patient and loving attitude I wanted to fill my home.

But I made the decision not to let fear own me. I decided to be obedient to God and go through pregnancy, labor, and the newborn stage one more time. Now that we’re four weeks into having a newborn and done with pregnancy and labor, I’m so thankful those parts are over, that they didn't last forever, and I’m so thankful to have Baby F. The baby turned out to be a game changer for my oldest son, too. He had been struggling with being super disrespectful to us, his parents, but his behavior flipped for the better after the baby’s arrival. So much so that my husband mentioned he thought the reason for having Baby F was for our oldest son! A month after the baby's birth and my oldest still thinks it feels like a dream that the baby is here.

I know it doesn't always turn out for the better; sometimes God teaches me most through things that don't go "my way." But for this story, at the end of it, I have more gratitude to express than misery. Whether the reason is a gift from God, prayers, my perspective, or a combination, I’m grateful.

It was March 3, my due date. My mom helped people remember the date by saying it was the third day of the third month and our third boy. Only 5 percent of babies are born on their due date. Induction was scheduled for that day because of my age and gestational diabetes diagnosis. Everything indicated that the baby was ready to be born, I just hadn’t started labor naturally yet. I had a fear of the baby being born so fast that we'd miss the hospital completely, so I was on board with being induced. The baby was head down and pretty low. We arrived at the hospital at 6 a.m. and waited an hour and a half until we were called back. It was a busy day for births at that hospital. The doctor, whom I hadn’t actually met before but ended up liking a lot, said I was 2 cm dilated and 50% effaced. I told her I wanted to try to go without an epidural, and she said I’d have to focus on imagining the baby coming out. Pitocin started, which took a long time to work last time, so I was trying to get it out of my head how nice it would be if he was born that day.

I was happy to see the doctor, who came back to check on me at 2:30 p.m. She knew I wanted my water broken as soon as possible, as my last birth happened very quickly once the water was broken. She said she’d see how far along I was and break the water if it made sense medically. Turns out, at 4 cm dilated and 80% effaced, she felt confident in breaking the water. She said it looked like a completely different exam than the one just a few hours earlier. She warned me that in the next hour or two, I’d have trouble talking through contractions. She was right. By 6:30 p.m., after contractions ramped up so much that I wanted to give up on refusing an epidural, as it felt like my body was ripping in two, my body naturally started pushing! Nine minutes later—two of which were while the doctor was in the room—Baby F made his appearance! The nurses commented that he was a big baby at 8lb 10oz and 22 inches long, with a whole head of hair! I couldn't believe how round his sweet little head was. There was a little bit of difficulty getting the placenta out, and some extra bleeding with more pain, but then the hardest part was over! At one point, no one was in the room except my husband, the baby, and me. A sign to me that everything was fine. It looked like no NICU stay for us! My first son had holes in his lungs and had to go to the NICU 30 seconds after he was born for eight days, which was miserable, so I really felt grateful that that situation wasn't duplicated.

Some different things I tried in this labor that made all the difference…

• Grabbing a comb to focus on the pressure points in my hand rather than the labor pain and using grabbing it as a nonverbal cue to my husband that a contraction was starting.

• Wireless headphones—one ear on, one ear off—with a worship music playlist.

• Most of the time, I was on the birthing ball (thank God for wireless monitoring and nurses who wouldn't give up on making it work!), and my husband would give my lower back counter-pressure.

• In the last and worst stage of labor, I stopped making so much noise because it didn’t help anything. Instead, I would focus on a lyric in a song I was listening to, or focus on slow breathing, or imagine how my body was doing what it needed to do to get the baby out.

I felt like a badass and so strong after going through this! No epidural, no tears, and fear didn’t win! I’m so thankful for a more positive labor experience after the last two left a negative imprint in my mind. Thank you, Jesus!