The Birth That Healed Me
I have written versions of this story a couple of times already.
It felt important to sit down and put it on the page—especially considering my last few blog posts were all about preparing for baby, planning my induction, and the birth trauma I carried into this.
But I had a hard time writing it.
The versions I wrote just didn’t feel like me.
Either too clinical… or not clinical enough.
Definitely not enough me in the story.
So I’m going to try this again—in my own voice. The bare bones truth.
Forget all the specifics about how induction works. If you’re here reading this—or planning an induction yourself—you already know that part.
You’re here because you want to know how it went. Not how it happened.
So here’s how it went:
My baby has been born… and his birth was perfect.
It honestly was. In every way.
My induction went off without a hitch.
The plan planned.
The epidural epiduralled.
And everything went exactly how I wanted it to.
The minutia of the day are important, certainly.
How my partner and I spent the earlier part of the day relaxing and running errands.
My last-minute, totally necessary bookstore run.
The way we tried to enjoy that last day together, just as a couple.
The indulgently long bath I took in our hotel jacuzzi while in early labor.
All of those things mattered.
But what really made the difference—for me at least—was that through the whole thing…
I felt in control.
When we arrived for my induction that Saturday morning, the pre-induction had worked so well that I was already 5 cm dilated.
And I got there with minimal pain—which felt like a huge win already.
Once we were moved to a labor suite, the medical team got my epidural started right away, just like I had asked.
And once it was in?
I felt incredible.
I had heard epidurals take away the pain—but you just can’t conceptualize the difference between pain and no pain until you’ve been in labor.
I could move my legs. Reposition. Feel things.
But the pain was gone.
Completely gone.
I have been doing birth WRONG before now, let me tell you.
The lack of pain meant I could rest before the birth.
Being induced meant I had constant monitoring, so I could just relax—sleep even—and let my body do its thing, knowing my nurse and midwife were watching over both me and baby.
When it came time to push, everything changed in a way I didn’t expect.
Because I wasn’t in pain… I looked up.
And I saw my partner crying.
He was so overwhelmed, knowing we were about to meet our son.
And seeing him cry made me cry too.
We got to have that moment together.
I got to have that moment because I wasn’t delirious and hysterical from pain.
I was able to push effectively.
I could hear instructions.
Work with my team instead of against them.
And it went quickly.
And when my son was born?
I was there.
Not shocked. Not overwhelmed. Not disconnected.
I was present.
I held my baby for the first time, and I will remember every second of seeing him.
I would never describe birth as beautiful.
That hasn’t been my experience.
If anything, I’ve always found it scary, undignified… and a little gross.
But this?
After this, I understand why some women call it beautiful.
The epidural did that for me.
The induction did that for me.
The plan did that for me.
We don’t plan to have more children.
And I don’t necessarily want to do this again.
But now?
I believe I could.
I walked away from this experience not just without new trauma—but with a sense of healing I didn’t know was possible.
I might even be starting to believe that birth can be beautiful.
Even if I still think it’s a little gross.
Before You Go
If you’ve had a difficult birth before, I see you.
And if you’re heading into another one carrying fear—I hope this gives you a little bit of hope that things can be different.
I didn’t think I would ever describe a birth as healing… but here we are.
If this resonated with you, I would genuinely love to hear your story in the comments 🤍
I’ve also put together a list of what I’m actually using right now—from feeding to postpartum recovery—if you want to see what’s been helping → Favorites
And if you’re in this season of motherhood—pregnancy, postpartum, or somewhere in between—you can join my email list for more honest reflections like this (and the occasional bookish moment, too).
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