“Kyle! Wake up! I think the baby is coming today!” I said.
Kyle jumped up immediately. His body was moving, but his eyes were barely open. He asked me how far apart the contractions were.
“About 5 to 7 minutes apart,” I answered.
“How long have you been feeling this way?” Kyle asked.
“About 30 minutes,” I replied.
After that, Kyle told me he needed to take a shower and that I should call the doctor. I was so angry. His shower took five minutes, but to me, it felt like forever. I called the doctor even though I was screaming from the pain. A nurse answered, and I described my symptoms and asked if I should go to the hospital.
“I guess,” she replied.
That call felt so unnecessary, I thought, but the doctor had said we needed to notify them when I started feeling this way.
Then we jumped into the car, and Kyle drove to the hospital as fast as he could. I wasn’t even looking at him, but every few minutes, the pain was getting worse.
“Why did you decide to take a shower?” I asked.
“Well, you needed to feel the contractions for an hour, so I thought I still had 30 minutes,” he said.
He held my hand, and I tried to put my anger aside. The hospital was 45 minutes away. I could hear the engine speeding, and I was scared we might get pulled over—but it was an emergency. We were about to meet our baby.
He parked as close as possible to the hospital entrance. I sat in a wheelchair, and we rushed inside. Kyle tried to open the door, but it was locked. I was in so much pain—I was screaming and felt like I was going to faint. Kyle started calling the hospital because we didn’t know what to do.
While we were waiting outside, a nurse was leaving the building, so we quickly went in. We made our way to the elevator at the end of the hall, pressed the button for the 4th floor, and walked through what felt like a maze.
When we finally found the room, the nurses took my vital signs, and I heard my baby’s heartbeat. I was only 3 centimeters dilated, so I had to wait another hour before being moved to the delivery room. I needed to be at least 5 centimeters.
In the meantime, I had to walk around, bounce on a Pilates ball, and do squats. I don’t know how I managed, because my body just wanted to lie down, and I felt so dizzy. I even vomited a couple of times.
Finally, my body was ready, and I was taken to the delivery room. A nurse asked if I wanted an epidural—I didn’t even let her finish the question. I immediately said yes. I knew the needle was big, so I closed my eyes because I didn’t want to get nervous.
After that, I said out loud, “Oh my God, I’ve never felt like this before.” I felt relaxed, almost sleepy, and the pain was gone. During my last trimester, I had been dealing with severe sleep deprivation—some nights I only slept for an hour, even though my body was exhausted.
The nurse laughed and told me to try to rest.
Three hours later, I woke up and started feeling the contractions again. The doctor came in and said, “You’re almost ready to start pushing. This could take 20 hours or 15 minutes—it depends on you. Just follow my instructions.”
I was so scared of having a C-section. During my pregnancy, I had been doing exercises to strengthen my pelvic floor—mostly yoga with a Pilates ball. So when I heard the doctor’s words, I told myself, If I do this quickly, I won’t have to go through the pain for so long.
I started pushing every two minutes for ten seconds. But it felt like nothing was happening.
“Don’t give up—keep pushing!” the doctor said.
Kyle was holding one of my legs, pushing it toward my chest, while the nurse did the same on the other side. Before labor, Kyle and I had talked about his role—I told him I just wanted him to hold my hand. Deep down, I was worried he might faint. But seeing him there, helping the doctor, I was so impressed.
“Keep pushing!” the doctor said again. “I can see her head. Do you want to touch it?”
I said no—I felt like it would make me even more nervous.
“Push! She’s almost here!”
My face was red, my brow was furrowed. “Push as hard as you can. Take a deep breath, hold it, and push!”
Then, everything went quiet. I stopped hearing the voices around me—but I felt her come out, like a sudden release.
I opened my eyes and saw my baby, covered in a soft white coating. The doctor was holding her, and Kyle was about to cut the umbilical cord.
Then they placed her in my arms. She was crying.
It was the first time I heard her voice—and to me, it was perfect. 🤍
