Our Birth Story



As most of you know, my pregnancy seemed like forever....and a day. 

Every day past the due date got harder and harder until walking ended up feeling like I was dragging a ball and chain. A prisoner of my own body!

Thanks bed rest.

I kept thinking she was coming early especially due to the specialists having me believe she was deemed to come early! But...at 42 weeks...She was hanging in there tightly and induction was seeming at this point...really nice! So Friday was the day and it couldn’t come fast enough. 

Thursday my doctor decided to put in a foley balloon to dilate me and if you don’t know what that is...it’s not fun! Haha it’s a mini water balloon inserted to help dilate you and when you dilate to a (3?!) then it comes out and your body is progressing.

Contractions were frequent and real harsh (so I thought!) 

130 I lost the balloon and 2 o clock my water broke! Then labor really started getting tough! 

I labored downstairs from 2-6 am and then figured it was time to go to the hospital anyways because my induction was at 7 that day. 

Hit every red light and stopped by not one but two trains. I was sure I was having her in the car haha 

We arrived in the hospital at 7 and the wheelchair was already expecting me to help head to the room. I found out that I had been a 6 so progression looked good! Or that’s what I thought.

For hours I had been stuck at a 6. The pain from the contractions made me throw up but I felt like I could handle it. With the news that I was not progressing caused me to fear that the pain would be long and horrible so I opted for an epidural. They needed to then put me on pitocin to speed up the contractions and process and so I was getting so pumped on fluids. 

Pumppeddddd sooo many fluids! 

Especially because I was able to control how much epidural I got! Since I had already endured a 80 foot long needle and tube into my back I figured use it- I clicked that button like I was a college student slurping caffeine before a final that their life depended on.

Every 30 minutes the nurses would come in and have to along with Aaron pick me up and turn me side to side to make sure that the epidural didn’t just settle in one area! So sleep was not a thing! I was exausted.

24 hours of labor later...I was basically going to be kicked out. 

And my doctor...didn’t show.

The nurse came in and told me I had an hour to progress to a 10. 

I was shook. My brain was running in circles and I was NOT about to get a C-section. “That was not part of the plan” ran through my head 100 times. I rested and rested and really put my mind into my body to progress. 

I was at a 9.5 by the time the nurse came in and told me time was up...and that she was going to get me there!! So she basically self dilated me to that 10 and we started pushing! 

The best group of midwives and nurses were there and all of them were heaven sent! 

2 hours later. (high five if you read that in Spongebob lingo)

Our world changed!

We were then in the hospital for 3 days. 3 WHOLE days!


Selah had problems latching because she wouldnt stop sticking out her tounge. Some people call it immaturity, some tounge thrust, and some would say its just a normal baby thing. But to me it represented fear.

Fear because after 48 hours of her not latching, the nurses let us know that she would have to do formula from a bottle and my world practically crashed internally because that was one of the things i had been dreaming to share with my daughter and of course because pregnancy and birth plan didnt go as planned AND was really hoping for that one thing to work out. (that run on sentence was meant to be read fast like my brain was moving haha)

She wouldnt latch the bottle either.

They then filled a tiny cup up and she would lick the milk out of the cup…like a dog. I was beside myself…what do we do?

We had a lactation consultant and multiple nurses come in and invade my bubble. It was standard procedure. I just felt out of my natural element. Like I was being forced to do something unnatural to my baby. Someone elses hand shoving your babies head onto you forcefully over and over and your baby screaming because there is someone else making them do something they clearly are not ready for. Someone elses smell. Someone elses energy. To me…it was torture. This was MY sacred moment that i waited my whole life for…

The nurse regretfully commented that she was going to have to take her to the NICU and put her on feeding tubes because there was no way that she would be able to let her go without eating longer.

It threw my world in a tornado spin…my daughter cant eat on her own?! How long? Do i not get to bond?!

Through many tears and tons of determination and frustration in the next section between feeds- I prayed hard. Freakin hard. And believed that I could do this. That she could do this. That that little tongue could do this. Just me and her, I sat there and unforcefully let her think about it and ease into it.

And she did.

My strong little fighter latched.

I have never been so proud!!!

A moment of Selah.

PAUSE, AND PRAISE. (exactly what her name means!)

Because of the influidity of her latch and the caution that she might not be sucking hard enough, they did put her on formula bottle feeds for a little to make sure that she was getting back to birth weight and once we were settled in home- we found our rhythm.

So now, that little tongue reminds me of strength. And i love it.