My first child took his sweet time arriving. My body was ready, but he clearly was not. In fact, my obstetrician confidently told me, “There’s no way he’ll be late.” Yet, his due date came and went without a hint of labor. I was just a very pregnant woman, waiting.
During my pregnancy, my husband and I attended a birthing class that equipped us to handle the pain of labor—by having us hold an ice cube. For those who haven’t given birth, let me tell you: that’s not exactly a true representation of labor! Like many first-time moms, I aspired to have a “natural” birth—no drugs, just breathing and the belief that I could handle this.
In my quest for a natural experience, I tried every old wives’ tale about inducing labor known to man. I walked hilly 3-mile routes daily, practiced yoga poses, and munched on chicken and eggplant parmesan, not sure which was supposed to work. I doused everything in hot sauce and constantly sipped raspberry leaf tea. But still, nothing happened.
A week into my maternity leave—because obviously, this child would be on time—I started feeling anxious. I didn’t want to return to work still pregnant. So, I reluctantly set an induction date for ten days post due date, thinking he would surely come before then.
But the day before the scheduled induction arrived, and still, nothing. In a moment of desperation, I decided to see an acupuncturist. As she inserted needles, she asked why I was so determined to avoid induction. I explained my desire for a “natural” birth experience. She responded, “Whatever happens, this will be your birth experience.”
That statement hit home. In my fixation on doing things “right,” I had lost sight of the significance of the moment. This was about welcoming our child into the world and becoming parents, not about meeting a strict guideline. If I needed Pitocin to help me, then so be it.
Ultimately, my son—and later my other two children—required a little extra help to make their grand entrance. My husband and I even created a code phrase for when I wanted an epidural: “I’m serious, darn it!” In the end, labor moved so quickly that I didn’t have time for the epidural. And honestly, if I had needed it, that would have been perfectly fine.
When I reflect on that day, it’s not the medical assistance I recall, but the overwhelming joy of suddenly becoming a family. I remember the shock of hearing my son’s first cry and the unexpected spray of pee that hit everyone nearby. I think about how he was both exactly what I had envisioned and a complete surprise all at once. He seemed impossibly tiny, yet loomed large in my heart. I was filled with relief—he was here, healthy, and I had done it.
It was my experience, our family’s first experience together, and it was absolutely perfect.
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Summary
In reflecting on my journey to motherhood, I realized the importance of embracing the birth experience rather than fixating on how I thought it “should” happen. The arrival of my first child taught me that the essence of the day was about family, love, and acceptance of whatever path labor took.
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