I’ve had three completely different birth experiences, and none of them unfolded the way I imagined they would.
My first was a hospital birth with an epidural.
My second was a C-section with a breech baby.
My third was a natural water birth after a long IVF journey to have more babies.
All three were emotional.
All three were overwhelming in their own way.
And all three changed me.
Before my first birth, I went into it with very little real understanding of what labor and delivery would actually feel like. Most of what I thought I knew came from movies, bits and pieces from other people, and just assuming it would somehow all make sense once it started. I knew birth would hurt, of course, but I didn’t fully understand how intense it could feel in my body. At the same time, I also know every woman experiences labor differently. What felt incredibly intense for me may feel very different for someone else. Some women seem to breathe through it and work with their bodies in a way I had not yet learned how to do.
By my second birth, I was trying to educate myself a little more about natural birth, but that changed completely when the doctor told me I needed a C-section instead. At that point, I thought maybe it would be easier in some ways. I would not have to worry about doing everything myself in labor. I would just lay there and let it happen. But I was not thinking enough about the recovery or how draining it would feel afterward. That part felt out of my control, and sometimes you really do just have to go with it.
By my third, I was much more prepared. I had educated myself more about natural birth, pain, and how to work through contractions. I knew it was not going to be easy, but I felt more equipped for the journey. I understood more of what my body might do, and I had more trust in the process, even if I was still scared.
What stayed the same through every pregnancy was this quiet fear I never fully said out loud:
Am I doing enough for this baby?
Am I enough for this baby?
Am I doing everything I can while they are growing inside of me, and will I be enough once they are here?
That fear never really leaves. It just changes shape. And I don’t think we talk about that enough.
My First Birth — The One That Made Me a Mom
With my first baby, I was most excited about finally having this little person I could love and protect. I was stepping into motherhood for the first time, and even though I didn’t really know what I was doing, I wanted that baby so deeply.
I was mostly just hoping for the best.
When labor started, I remember feeling overwhelmed by the contractions because I did not know how to work through them. I knew birth would hurt, but I did not understand how consuming it could feel for me in that moment. Looking back now, after having my third naturally, I can see just how different the experiences were. With my third, I could clearly feel when contractions were building and changing. With my first, it almost felt like I just hurt the whole time and did not yet know how to work with what my body was doing.
I even had a reaction to the first pain medication they gave me and threw up, which definitely was not how I pictured things going.
I had my first baby at 41 weeks exactly, and he was 9 pounds, 14 ounces. Even now, that still sounds big when I say it out loud. Everything felt intense, and I was learning in real time what it meant to be in labor, what it meant to lose control a little, and what it meant to finally meet the baby I had been carrying.
And then there was the moment that stands out in every birth for me — hearing that first cry.
That moment always stops me.
When I first saw my baby, my first thought was, there you are.
Like my heart had been waiting to recognize someone it already knew.
That birth made me a mom. It was the beginning of everything. It changed me in ways I could not have understood until I was living it.
But if I’m being honest, I also felt more alone than I let anyone see. I wish someone had sat down with me and talked honestly about what birth could feel like, what postpartum could feel like, and what the emotional side of it all could look like. A lot of the talk I heard was just, “It’s going to hurt.” But there is so much more to it than pain.
I shared more of this experience in The Birth That Made Me a Mom.
My Second Birth — The One That Was Breech
My second birth was completely different.
This time, I was excited because I was having a girl. I was already imagining all the little girl things, and I went into it with more confidence about caring for a baby. But the birth itself took a turn I had not really prepared for.
My baby was breech, and I ended up having a scheduled C-section at 39 weeks. She was 8 pounds, 3 ounces, and from the moment I learned I needed surgery, the whole experience shifted.
I had been trying to educate myself more, but once I was told a C-section was needed, I had to adjust quickly. In some ways, I thought it might be easier. I would not have to labor the same way. I would just lay there and let it happen. But what I did not fully think through was how different that kind of birth feels in your body and how much longer the recovery can feel afterward.
In some ways, it did feel calmer because I was not laboring the same way. I was there, awake, behind the sheet, while the doctor explained what he was doing and what the tugging sensations were. It almost felt like being part of something and separate from it at the same time. That sounds strange, but that is really how it felt. Like there was this curtain between me and the moment, and then suddenly — baby.
It is emotional no matter how your baby comes into the world. But a C-section felt different to me. More peaceful in the sense that I was physically still, but also more disconnected.
I was scared something would go wrong while they were cutting me open. That fear sat quietly in me, even though I was trying to stay calm. I had to put so much trust into the doctor and nurses.
There was one nurse I’m especially thankful for. She kept reassuring me, keeping me updated, letting me know what was happening with the baby. She put her hand on me and made me feel like someone was really there with me. She even told me before they took the baby for a few minutes, instead of just taking her without warning. That mattered more than people might realize.
What was hardest for me was that my baby wasn’t just right there with me the way I wanted. She was in the NICU, and I really struggled with that. I did not like being separated from her. I do not even remember every detail now about why they were monitoring her breathing and feeding the way they were, but I do remember how much I wanted us together.
That experience gave me so much motivation to get up and start walking as quickly as possible. I wanted to heal. I wanted to get home. I wanted to be with my baby.
The recovery from that birth was harder on me physically. It felt longer. My body struggled more. And if I ever have another hospital birth, I know I would ask more questions, want more details, and go in with a more specific birth plan so I could better understand what is happening and what I am comfortable with for both me and baby.
That birth taught me how little control we sometimes have — and how much strength it takes to surrender when things do not go as planned.
I go more into this experience in The Birth That Turned Everything Upside Down.
My Third Birth — The One That Showed Me My Strength
By my third baby, my story had changed a lot.
I had thought I was done having babies. Then I met my current husband, and life opened up a new chapter for us. What followed was a long journey of IVF to have more babies, and by the time I got to this pregnancy, I carried a lot more understanding with me — not just about birth, but about waiting, hoping, and holding onto something you want so deeply.
This was the birth I felt most prepared for.
Not because I thought it would be easy, but because I had done more of the inner work and the education. I knew more about natural birth. I understood the pain would come in waves. I knew there were things I could do to help myself through it. I was still scared of the pain, because I am not someone who handles pain easily, but I trusted myself more.
One thing that made a huge difference this time was my midwife. She did not just check on the baby — she checked on me. She would sit with me, talk with me, ask about my feelings, my worries, where my mind was at. Those talks mattered. They made me feel seen and prepared in a way I had not experienced before.
This birth was a natural water birth at a birth center, and it felt so different from my other two births. It was intense, yes. Especially near the end, when the contractions changed and I knew pushing was close. That part still scared me. Even with all the preparation, I still felt that fear of pain rising in me.
But I also knew more this time. I could feel the contractions for what they were. I could work with them better. I knew tensing up made everything worse, and breathing through them gave me a little more space to handle what was happening.
My third baby came around 43 weeks, weighed 8 pounds, 9 ounces, and that whole experience felt deeply emotional for me. Not just because of the birth itself, but because of everything it took to get there.
This birth showed me a different kind of strength.
Not the kind that looks calm or perfect… but the kind that keeps going even when you’re scared, even when your body is tired, and even when things don’t go the way you expected after.
It made me feel more present in my own body. More aware. More connected to the experience. It did not erase the hard parts of my other births, but it gave me something new — trust in myself.
This is the birth I talk about more in The Birth That Showed Me My Strength.
What Stayed the Same in All Three
Even though all three births were different, some things stayed the same.
The moment of hearing that first cry.
The moment they come into your arms.
The rush of love and protectiveness.
That sudden feeling of, there you are.
After each birth, that mama bear part of me kicked in immediately.
And after each one, I was struck by the same truth: no matter how the birth happened, I had done something powerful.
When I look back, it really is incredible what a mother goes through. You spend months growing a life, carrying that baby, wondering if you are doing enough, hoping everything is okay, and then you go through whatever labor, delivery, or surgery it takes to bring that baby into the world.
And through all of it, what you want most is simple: for your baby to be healthy, and for you both to be okay.
What Birth Changed in Me
Every birth changed me, but especially that first one, because that is where everything begins.
No one really prepares you for how much you change. Your body changes. Your hormones drop. Your emotions shift. Your mental state can feel completely different. Your identity changes too.
And it does not stop with the first baby. Second, third, and beyond — every time, you still go through change. You still have to move through it, understand it, survive it, and figure out who you are on the other side.
One thing I have learned is how important support is.
I did not have the same kind of support in my first marriage with my first two kids that I have now with my current husband. And that difference has been huge. To feel seen, supported, and understood matters more than I can even explain. Even his family has checked in on me, offered support, and made space for me to be honest. One mom in the family went through postpartum depression herself, and because she knows what that feels like, she reaches out to me. That kind of care means so much.
Support does not take away the hard parts, but it can make you feel less alone inside them.
What I Would Tell My Past Self
If I could go back and talk to myself before each birth, I would say different things.
Before my first, I would tell her to take care of herself more and reach out more. Postpartum depression and anxiety hit me hard with my first. I did not understand enough, and I needed more support than I knew how to ask for.
Before my second, I would tell her to educate herself more about breech babies and ask more questions. I would tell her that just because the birth itself feels calmer does not mean the recovery will be easy.
Before my third, I would remind her that being more prepared does not mean she will not still feel fear. It just means she has more tools to walk through it.
And honestly, for all three versions of myself, I would say this:
Give yourself more grace.
Ask for help sooner.
You do not have to carry every part of this alone.
What I Wish Someone Had Told Me Honestly
I wish someone had told me that you cannot fully prepare for birth — not physically, not emotionally, not mentally.
You can read the books, watch the videos, and listen to other people’s stories, but when it is your turn, it is different. It is yours.
I wish someone had told me that it is okay to feel scared, even if you thought you were ready.
That it is okay if things do not go how you planned.
And that strength does not always look how you think it will. Sometimes it looks like asking for help. Sometimes it looks like letting go of control. Sometimes it looks like simply getting through one moment at a time.
I also wish someone had talked more openly about postpartum — about the emotional side, the mental load, and how important it is to have support.
Because becoming a mom is not just about giving birth. It is about meeting a completely new version of yourself.
What I Understand Now
What I understand now is that every birth and every baby carries its own story.
You can have three completely different experiences and still come out of each one changed in ways you did not expect.
There is no perfect birth.
There is no one right way to do it.
There is no single version of strength.
But there is something incredibly powerful about what a mother goes through — growing a life, carrying it, and then bringing it into the world however that story unfolds.
And even though every journey looks different, there is something that connects all of us in it.
We may not have the same stories, but we understand the feelings.
The fear.
The love.
The strength.
The transformation.
That is what makes motherhood so humbling and so powerful at the same time.
And that is why we need to keep sharing our stories — because even when our paths look different, we can still help each other feel less alone.
No matter how your birth story looks, it still counts.
And so do you.
If you’ve had more than one birth, did they feel completely different for you too?
I’d love to hear what stood out the most in your experience.
✨ Thank you for letting me share this part of my story.
With love,
Rachel (RaiRai 💛)
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