Georgia's birth story

my second baby

If you are here reading this because you googled “second baby birth story” or some such variation, hello! I was once you. No, you will not be pregnant forever. Yes, babies do eventually come out. Writing a birth story in this amount of detail and then publishing it feels self-indulgent, but I spent days reading birth stories, going deeper and deeper into my search until I reached internet waste land. Every single story made me tear up. It really is a miracle that any of us end up here at all.

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I knew in my heart that this child would not come early, so I scheduled my first day of maternity leave for the Monday following my due date. Sure enough, my due date came and went and so many people — kids and teachers alike — asked what I was still doing at school. Or they asked when my due date was, even though I had told them just a day or two earlier. I understood though. The subtext was you are a walking science experiment, and I want to see the findings. Me too, I thought. Me too.

I had two false alarms with my labor — the first when I thought my water broke on Saturday morning (Oct. 18). Turns out the “spontaneous leak,” as I tried to describe it, was just my strained bladder. Then, intense contractions that ramped up to eight in one hour on Sunday (Oct. 19), which prompted us to go to the hospital, only to be swiftly rejected as everything came to a halt. To add insult to injury, I was only 2.5 cm dilated. I did get to reconnect with the nurse who supported my first birth, which felt like a blessing or a sign of some sort.

I returned home, frustrated that we had already sent our son to his grandparents’ and would have to ask more of our family’s time later in the week for the scheduled induction. I also knew the night would bring more intense Braxton Hicks contractions as that had been the case all week. I dreaded going to bed.

We woke up on Monday (Oct. 20). Jonny picked Ari up from his grandparents’, dropped him off at preschool, and then we headed right to the doctor’s office for my membrane sweep. This appointment was scheduled with the same doctor who delivered Ari five years ago. He doesn’t work in the hospital anymore, so it was fun to see him so near the end of my pregnancy. He asked us about our name ideas and when we reminded him that we didn’t know the sex of the baby, he joked that the heart tones sounded like a girl’s. We laughed.

We drove immediately from the doctor’s office to Mt. Tabor, also known as “Mt. Labor,” as it is the last place desperate women turn to for self-induction. It was sunny and crisp and the air smelled so good. We walked to the top. I felt a few contractions, but nothing like I had felt the day before. We decided to stop at Coquine Market for lunch. Coquine is where we have celebrated my birthday since we moved to Portland, but I’ve never been during the day. We ordered a slice of fig cake, hot chocolate, and ham and cheese sandwich (what the hell, I thought, it’s been 40+ weeks). I almost took a picture, but I decided to Stay in the Moment and keep my phone away. The sun was pouring in through the window. My skin had that tingly, defrosted feeling from being outside on a cold day. Jonny and I had the same giddy conversation we’d been having for days, desperately excited to meet this baby. It was a perfect lunch.

On the way home, I made a to-do list: nap, prepare some chocolate-peanut butter dates, take Ari to the library after school. After a little over an hour on the couch, I felt the same “spontaneous leak” as before. Immediately the contractions started. They were much stronger, but the embarrassment of being sent home from triage burned in my brain. I told Jonny that I would set a thirty minute timer, and then we would call the nurse line for guidance. I had two more contractions and immediately changed my mind.

We grabbed our bags and got in the car. We called the nurse line at 3:17 p.m. and told them we were on our way to the hospital. I said urgently in between contractions: PLEASE HAVE AN EPIDURAL READY. I KNOW IT TAKES SOME TIME TO GET THAT GOING. PLEASE BE READY.

The nurse on the line said, “Okay, honey,” to me and then said, “Dad, you need to be ready to pull over and call 911.”

I said ABSOLUTELY NOT. WE WILL BE AT THE HOSPITAL AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.

We pulled in the parking lot, and I moved as quickly as I could through security and to the front desk. A staff member brought me a wheel chair, and I said THERE IS NO WAY I CAN SIT RIGHT NOW. PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME. I didn’t want to make a scene in the waiting room, but I also needed everyone to get out of the way and for the elevator open faster.

I was led to a delivery room, and I immediately took all of my clothes off and grabbed a gown without any prompting. I pulled the birth plan out of my bag and gave it to the nurses. I pulled the gown around the front of my body and hunched over on all fours, getting in position for the epidural. The midwife told me she needed to check my cervix. I was nine centimeters dilated. No time for an epidural. I immediately started crying. THERE HAS TO BE ANOTHER WAY, I sobbed. I CANNOT DO THIS. I made Jonny hold me on the other side of the bed, my arms draped over his shoulders for support. Another nurse applied counter pressure on my back. Once I understood there would be no epidural, I said I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM. I CANNOT CONTINUE UNTIL I GO. The midwife said that this was the urge to push, not poop, and that it was time.

I groaned, a mix of frustration and desperation. Groaned isn’t the word for it, but I don’t know what is. After a third groan, the nurse told me that instead of pushing the sound up out of my mouth, I should push it low, as low into my body as I could. I tried that. I CANNOT DO THIS, I said again.

The women behind me said, “You are doing it. The baby is coming.”

The nurse next to Jonny said quietly, very close to my face, "What if I told you you only have to push four more times? I know it feels like this is going to last forever, but you will feel better when the baby is out. I promise.” I let out as much energy as I could with the groan-push. The baby slipped out.

In my birth plan, I specified that we did not know the sex of the baby, and I wanted Jonny to be the one to tell me, thinking I would give birth on my back as I did with Ari, and he would see the baby before me. Because I gave birth on all fours and he supported me from the front, I saw the baby before he did.

I think I saw the baby before anyone.

I spent the last 28+ weeks telling people that the sex is a surprise. Just as “groan” did not suffice, “surprise” does not either. At my book club just a few weeks earlier, I said I would bet my mortgage payment that I was having another boy. Imagine my surprise.

JONNY! IT’S A GIRL, I gasped. I saw tears in his eyes when he hugged me.

Georgia Jo
6 lbs. 10 oz.
20.5 in long
10/20/2025
3:58 p.m.

Thank you so much for reading this. Additional, undying gratitude to all of my friends and family who have sent gifts, brought meals, showed up, and checked in. We are so lucky.

Love,

Lexie