My Second Birth Story
Let me start with this. There is no right way to give birth.
I wholeheartedly believe that.
To be completely upfront, I hesitated to write this. Not because I didn’t want to share my story, but because birth can be a tricky topic where shame and comparison like to rear their ugly heads.
This isn’t a blueprint or a how-to guide. It’s simply my experience. And at that, just one of my experiences with birth.
During the final weeks of pregnancy, I found positive birth stories deeply encouraging, and I’m sharing mine in case it offers some comfort or solidarity to another woman. I’m also just excited to share this story as it was an incredibly special experience for me.
One more quick note before we begin: I’m writing this almost four months after Lillian was born, thanks to my incredible husband who took notes throughout the day. I can’t recommend doing that enough, it’s amazing how quickly the details fade. I know there’s so much I would’ve forgotten if we hadn’t documented it then.
Here it is.
preparing for birth
I was due with my second daughter, Lillian, on March 29, 2025—just one day after my oldest, Magnolia, was born two years prior.
My first birth taught me a lot, but that’s a story for another time. The Sparknotes version: I woke up to my water braking, contractions went from 0 to 100, I labored for about 20 hours with an epidural, and Magnolia was born sunny-side up (occiput posterior) after a long pushing phase.
Overall it was a positive experience but there were things I hoped would be different this time around.
Magnolia’s birth shaped how I prepared for Lillian’s. I did what I could to help Lillian get in an optimal position for birth and dove into reading up on pain management techniques that would allow me to stay mobile. Based on those goals I wanted to have an unmedicated hospital birth. All while holding space for the reality that some things are simply out of my control.
the start of labor
Those last weeks of pregnancy are such a head game. I’d been sitting at 3cm for a couple of weeks, riding the roller coaster of “could be today, could be two more weeks.”
On March 25, I woke up at midnight to contractions. I was 39 weeks and 3 days—and excited. I know that might sound strange, but I’d prepared for this and was ready to see how it would all unfold.
I had set up our nursery as my labor space. It felt symbolic since it was the room I’d bring this baby home to. I’d hung up affirmation cards, had my birth ball and heating pad ready, and last minute ran down to the basement (between early contractions lol) to find a box of tealights for soft lighting.
I got into the all-fours position with my chest on the birth ball, which had been my go to during labor prep workouts in the third trimester. After about 45 minutes of contractions on my own, I was sure this was the main event. I woke my husband and called my sister to come over. My sister, Libby, is a postpartum nurse and certified doula. She had flown in from Seattle 10 days earlier and would be supporting Andrew and I during the birth.
At this point contractions were painful but manageable, coming every 7 minutes and lasting about a minute. The breaks between contractions helped me feel in control. I eventually moved to sitting on the ball and resting my chest on pillows on the bed while Andrew and Libby took turns squeezing my shoulders.
Some things that helped me during this phase:
Movement. Being able to move was huge for me! A lot of my movement at this point looked like swaying back and forth on the ball both during contractions and rests.
Counter pressure. But surprisingly not at my pelvis like we had practiced. Instead I wanted Libby and Andrew squeezing my shoulders. We’re not talking about massage, I wanted an intense squeeze.
Surrender. When I could manage it, I tried to let my body be loose during the contraction. This was so helpful, but honestly the hardest technique to stick to.
Focused breath. Since contractions were consistently about 1 minute, Andrew and Libby would tell me three more breaths when we were getting to the peak.
Staying present. In the moments where I let my mind wander to how much longer I was going to be in labor I would feel scared or out of control. The more I could stay in the moment I could keep my calm.
Around 2:15 a.m., after a particularly intense set of contractions on the “dilation station” (aka the toilet), we decided to head to the hospital.
Side note: Apparently I’m a labor puker. It happened during my first birth and again this time. Intense contractions would trigger vomiting. I had no idea that was a normal thing until it happened to me, so I’m sharing it here in case it helps someone else feel less surprised by it.
arriving to the hospital
The transition to the hospital threw me off a bit. The intake process included a lot of questions, and I found it hard to stay in the rhythm I’d developed at home. But once we were settled, with the lights low and some music on, I got back in a groove.
I labored on all fours on the bed for a while before asking for a birth ball. That same position sitting on the ball and leaning onto the bed was still my go-to. I stayed there from around 3:45 a.m. on, except for cervical checks.
By 4:15 a.m., I was 7cm, Maggie Rogers was playing in the background, and things were ramping up.
Side note: I really didn’t like cervical checks. Even when timed between contractions, they’d always trigger one immediately after, eating into my rest time. That being said, it was nice to hear I was progressing.
transition and birth
At 4:25 a.m. I was on the ball when I had a huge contraction and my water broke. Everything intensified from there.
This was the hardest part. I started saying things like: “I can’t do this.” “I want out.” and even “I’m scared.”
The pain was intense and the breaks were short. But Andrew and Libby stayed locked in with me. They were making eye contact, reminding me of my affirmations, and squeezing my shoulders with all they had.
Around this time, which I now know was transition, the on-call midwife came into the room and quietly introduced herself, saying she’d be there in case my OB didn’t arrive in time. I remember thinking “Oh that’s nice, but my doctor is on her way.”
I started spontaneously bearing down during contractions. This was not a decision on my part, just instinct. My body had taken over and she knew exactly what to do.
I was feeling a lot of pressure and told the nurse I felt like I needed to push. She suggested I get in the bed, but I didn’t want to lie down. That was my least favorite position. I stood next to the bed with my hands on the mattress to take one last contraction.
The midwife came over and said, “The baby is right there, you’re good to push.” I had no plans to deliver in standing, but in the moment it felt completely right.
Over the span of a contraction, with my body doing most of the pushing on its own, Lillian was here. After five hours of labor, she was born at 5:06am.
afterward
I had a huge emotional release, but not the immediate relief I expected. That may have been because I was still standing—or maybe it was just the surprise of how fast everything had happened. My husband cut the cord, and I delivered the placenta still on my feet.
Once I climbed into bed and finally held my sweet girl for the first time, I felt the full weight of relief and joy settle in.
My OB arrived shortly after to check on me and stitch a small tear. Once the room was cleaned, the sun began to rise outside our window, and we had a moment of quiet. That’s when I finally felt fully at ease.
final thoughts
Thank you for letting me share this story with you. If you’re reading this in the thick of pregnancy or postpartum, I hope it reminds you that there’s no one right way to do this. Your experience—whatever it looks like—is worthy of being honored. Mine is just one version. But I hope some piece of it reminds you that your body is wise and you're allowed to birth the way that feels best for you.