Birth Stories

For a week leading up to my baby's birth, I experienced on-and-off contractions. They were never too overwhelming, just frequent enough to keep me guessing. Every day brought a new round of these manageable waves of pressure, making it impossible to know for sure when the moment of active labor would truly begin.

Then, on the afternoon of December 1st, the familiar sensations returned. By noon, I noticed the contractions again, more persistent this time, coming closer together and with increasing strength. Throughout the day, I remained calm, practicing my hypnobirthing breathing techniques. I felt centered and in control, determined to stay relaxed and focused. It was a peaceful, almost meditative time, even as my body began preparing for the final stage of pregnancy.

I went about my day as if everything were normal—lunch with a friend, a long walk with my dog, even a trip to the dog park where I breathed through some stronger contractions. The people around me looked on, concerned, as though I might give birth right there in the park, but I felt no pain, only pressure and tightening.

When my husband was on his way home from work, I asked him to pick up some food. He hesitated, eager to get home and concerned about the progress of my contractions, but I assured him that I was still comfortable and at peace, trusting that there was time. By 8 p.m., as I settled in to watch Friends, the contractions suddenly stopped, just as they had before. It felt like another night of rest was coming before the real labor would begin.

But then, just after 9 p.m., everything changed. As I laid down to go to bed, one powerful wave took my breath away. Another came five minutes later, and soon after that, they were three minutes apart, impossible to ignore. My body was gearing up for the final stretch, and I was fully in tune with it.

With the support of my husband, I moved through the early stages of labor. I labored on hands and knees on the bed, then stood leaning over him in the shower, finding relief in the warm water. Soon, I was in the tub at home, moving fluidly through each contraction, feeling the sensations but without fear. My midwife, who was also a close friend, arrived by 11 p.m., providing me with additional reassurance. The room felt calm, the atmosphere full of love and support. I moaned softly with each contraction, but the overwhelming feeling was gratitude and peace.

At 1 a.m., my midwife advised heading to the birth center. I hesitated at first, assuming I had plenty of time left, but she joked that I was on track for a home birth if I didn’t leave soon—an option I hadn’t planned for. The ride to the birth center was bumpy, but I kept my calm, listening to soothing music through my headphones as I breathed through each contraction. My body was telling me that things were moving quickly.

Once at the birth center, I was greeted by a calm, dimly lit space with twinkle lights that added to the peaceful atmosphere. I immediately got into the tub, feeling the warm water embrace me, and I settled into the rhythm of my breath once more. Within 15 minutes of arriving, the urge to push came over me so strongly that my body took over. I couldn’t stop it. Each contraction brought a powerful urge to push, and my body responded, even before I had a chance to think about it.

My water broke with the second push, and the pressure increased significantly. Still, I was deeply connected to my breath, and my midwife and support team guided me through each phase with gentle hands and encouraging words. When I would feel fleeting moments of overwhelm or discomfort, they grounded me well. I felt a profound sense of trust in my body and in my team.

After some time, my midwife checked my cervix and discovered a small anterior lip. She offered to help me reduce it, and with my consent, she gently did so. This gave me the encouragement I needed. I was fully dilated now. I knew that this was it. I could do this. The idea of pushing my baby out, despite the intensity of it all, no longer felt daunting. It was just the next step.

For hours, I pushed. The process was slow and steady—four hours of pushing in total—but I never doubted my body’s ability to bring my baby into the world. My baby’s head was large, and with both hands by his face, he made the journey a little longer, but I trusted the process. I never allowed fear or doubt to creep in. Even when his heart rate dropped briefly with one of my pushes, my team was able to help me maintain my calm, trusting my team and my body.

And then, finally, my son emerged! The moment he was born, relief washed over me. His first cry was the sweetest sound I had ever heard, and he was immediately placed on my chest. Skin-to-skin, the two of us were bonding for hours as I marveled at his tiny features. He latched effortlessly at the breast, and I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the entire experience.

The placenta followed 30 minutes after my son was born, and I was fortunate enough to have no tearing. As I looked down at my newborn son, I was filled with pride and awe. This had been the most intense, yet the most positive experience of my life. My trust in my body, in my baby, and in my team had made it all possible. I was at peace, knowing I had just accomplished something incredible.

And, in the stillness of those first precious moments, I looked at my husband and said, with a smile, “I can’t wait to do that again someday.” I know I have hypnobirthing to thank for this experience.