July 28, 2024 was the day our lives changed forever – for the better. It was the day we met our baby girl and instantly fell in love. I wrote this a month after she arrived, but I’m posting it right as she’s about to turn four months old. Even still, I can’t believe Abigail Claire is ours. Motherhood has been an incredible adjustment but also an amazing experience so far. I want to remember every moment, soak up every second, and cherish every memory with our girl as she grows too fast.

So I thought I’d document her birth story – maybe nobody will read it or care. Maybe some of the details are a bit much (if you’re queasy or nervous about birth, I try to avoid the gory details; but I still share my experience with pain and scary moments, so use your discretion before reading). But ultimately, I want to come back to this story time and again (you know, whenever I need a good cry), to remember the huge blessing God gave me on July 28, 2024.

One final disclaimer: We have chosen not to show Abigail’s face on the internet. It’s a scary world out there, and with AI rapidly developing, we want to keep our girl safe in this growingly digital environment.

My Pregnancy Journey

Many of you may already know that Abby is not our first baby, but is also our firstborn. We became pregnant in July 2023 with August, a baby we lost at 10 weeks (in late August 2023) to miscarriage. You can read about his story HERE. But all that to say, we spent a few months healing emotionally and physically from that experience, while still praying for another child.

Before August, I was incredibly optimistic about pregnancy. I spent the early months of 2023 dreaming of being pregnant and having a baby. I had rosy ideas about what pregnancy would be like. Then miscarriage shattered much of that. A positive pregnancy test was no longer exciting; it was terrifying. So when we received another positive test on November 9, 2023, barely two months after losing August, I felt robbed of the joyful experience most couples enjoy. I had no idea what a positive would mean – would we get our rainbow baby or will we be grieving double losses in a row?

That test started a long 41-week journey. Every doctor’s appointment was scary. Kevin and I prayed in the car before each one. Ultrasound appointments began with recurring trauma and ended with huge sighs of relief as we got healthy reports, one after another. Every visit was like slowly picking up another shard of our shattered hope and gluing it back together. Normal was the goal, and we were blessed to have good reports of normal, healthy baby each time.

Aside from anxiety-inducing, relief-giving doctor’s appointments, I was experiencing a very up and down pregnancy physically as well. Unlike my time carrying August, I had constant nausea that grew in intensity over the first trimester. It bled well into the second trimester, with my final incident with nausea falling on the 18th week. I had no appetite for about 20 weeks, and pretty much only wanted fruit and crackers most meals. Even the taste of water was revolting, which (combined with the nausea) made it very difficult to stay hydrated.

But the light at the end of the tunnel finally came around that 20th/21st week. I regained my appetite, needed less naps, and my bump was becoming more undeniable. We had waited until this point to tell our friends, extended family, and coworkers the good news, afraid of jinxing ourselves. Once the news was out, I finally felt joy coming back. I think the celebratory messages and words from our community helped me accept that maybe, just maybe, we are about to become parents to a baby this side of heaven!

That feeling grew as Abby did – especially when I first felt her kick. My anxiety lessened after that, because each kick felt like a reminder she was real, healthy, growing, and most of all – she was alive. We enjoyed a beautiful babymoon in the Florida Keys and I photographed most of my spring weddings feeling good in my second trimester. We were coasting on to trimester three.

Then the next challenge hit us. The glucola test. That dreaded syrup-y drink they make you chug at your 28-week appointment to see if you have gestational diabetes. Unfortunately for me, I failed the test and was diagnosed right after my baby shower. My entire diet had to change, and I had to monitor blood sugar with finger pricks 4x a day. I felt so defeated, fighting cravings and trying everything to keep my sugar levels steady to protect my baby girl and avoid complications. Fear of losing her again creeped in. I’m not sure what was harder – the nausea and anxiety of the first half of my pregnancy, or the intense mental and physical exhaustion of managing my health in the second half.

Needless to say, Abigail couldn’t come soon enough. July 21, her due date, was marked and circled on our calendars (literally and figuratively). By week 36, I was ready. I mentally prepared to give birth any day, and probably drove my coworkers at my day job crazy with my daily reminders that “I may not be here tomorrow! Here’s my project statuses just in case.”

41 Weeks of Growing Abigail Claire

Time dragged. Week 37… 38… 39… 40! Her due date came and went. The day before, I was so antsy. So we decided to fill the day with activity – starting with going to a ceramics painting studio to paint her a special birthday plate that she can use every birthday when we serve her cake. It was so cathartic, until the studio worker asked me my due date and I told her “tomorrow.” A reminder that we were still waiting for Abigail to come.

My doctor had already scheduled my induction for July 28, the day I’d be 41wk 0d pregnant. That was a pretty discouraging phone call – you mean, she might not come on her own? I might be pregnant for yet another week? And then have to endure an induction?

I had my final doctor’s appointment the Thursday before my induction date, almost 41 weeks pregnant. We were so hopeful of good news. I had been feeling her drop further and harder into my pelvis; surely I was at least 3 or 4 cm dilated, right? Wrong. I made no progress since the week before. Only 2 cm, and 80% effaced was a generous estimate according to this week’s doctor, despite last week’s doctor claiming I was a sure 80%. Labor could come on its own, or I could be headed for induction.

The doctor actually told me instead of starting pitocin on the 28th, we’d need to do cervical ripening first. The process would mean coming to the hospital at 4pm that evening to be administered Cervidil. The procedure would take all night, so I’d be encouraged to get some sleep. I wouldn’t be allowed to eat anything but clear liquids once I was admitted, and they told me to expect a long, exhausting day after that. If the Cervidil was successful in opening my cervix further, they’d begin giving me pitocin to kickstart labor. Otherwise, I’d be given a meal then given another 12-hour dose of Cervidil and start over again.

We all began praying – Kevin, me, my parents, my in-laws, friends. I joked that our fiesty little Abigail Claire had outlasted everyone’s predictions for her arrival date, maybe she will even want to show up the doctors and tell them she’ll be here before they get to force her out. Maybe mother’s intuition kicked in – or I just know my daughter. Because that’s exactly what happened!

Abigail Claire’s Birth Story

Triage

Kevin and I went to bed Saturday night, July 27, accepting that induction was the way our girl would be joining us. I wanted to avoid it with everything in me. Thinking I would be attempting a fully natural birth experience, I had heard induction makes it harder to keep that birth plan because pitocin can sometimes make contractions pretty intense from the get go rather than gradually increasing in intensity. But Abigail still wasn’t here, and I was so tired of being pregnant and counting carbs and sugar logs.

Sunday morning, the 28th, I woke up at 5:40 am to a sharp pain in my abdomen. It jolted me awake, but I quickly began doubting myself. After all, at 41-weeks pregnant, aches and pains were pretty normal. But this was different… surely it was! I laid there waiting to see if it would happen again. A dull ache followed. I got out of bed and walked around the bedroom, breathing slow and quietly, as if I could distract myself from noticing the next pain if I was breathing too loud. Another dull ache hit, like a dense period cramp or pulled muscle feeling that came and went.

I nudged Kevin awake to tell him that I think I’m having contractions but I still didn’t know. I’m a first time mom – what do contractions even feel like? Like I said, everything hurts at this stage so what’s the difference between a contraction and Abby squirming against my pelvic bones? I began timing my “contractions.” They were lasting 30 sec, then 45, then a minute or so, back and forth between 1+ minutes and 20-30 seconds. And they came about 10… 7… 5 minutes apart. Not consistent like clockwork but certainly trending toward longer and closer together. By 7:30 am we called my doctor, and by 8:00 am we were heading to the hospital.

The contractions were getting pretty intense. I started breathing and vocalizing through them to cope. But the bumpy, pothole-ridden roads of Fairfax made a 20 minute ride to the hospital unbearable. Finally we pulled in and I leaned against the outside of the car breathing through a contraction while Kevin grabbed our papers from the hospital bag. We went inside and were directed to the maternal ward triage. They offered a wheelchair, which I didn’t want because I was in too much pain to sit again. But I took it once a contraction passed, and they wheeled us into a tiny triage room.

This was the hardest part of my entire labor experience. We were left to labor in that room for about two hours. The nurse only very occasionally checked on us, each time seeming unsure what to do – I was only 3 cm dilated when they checked me in, which wasn’t enough to admit us to labor and delivery. She paged my doctor, but we were given no updates. I was in so much pain, and contractions were now 2 minutes apart. I couldn’t talk through them unless I huffed out words. Finally we called the nurse back in and begged for an update.

The nurse told us my doctor advised I go home. GO HOME?! No way I was enduring that car ride again… not now. The pain was so intense. I was getting fearful my plan of an all-natural, unmedicated birth was steadily slipping away. My confidence and resolve for it was dwindling with every contraction. I told Kevin, “If this is me at 3 cm, how will I make it through 6, 8, or 10??” Our only option was to go home and labor a bit longer before coming back, or ask for an epidural and be admitted now.

We took a few minutes to decide. I was crushed. But I was desperate. I wanted the pain to stop. I was already 6 hours into labor at that point, with no assurance it was coming to an end anytime soon. Looking Kevin in the eyes, I said “Maui.” My code word for “I need the epidural.” I made sure to wait for the contraction to end to say it again. I really was done. It was so disappointing, but I just wanted my baby girl in my arms. If that could happen with a healthy delivery even though I caved to an epidural, that’s all that mattered to me.

We called in the nurse and asked for the epidural. I had to sign for it, and we were wheeled into what would be my delivery room. It felt surreal being there, seeing the room where our baby girl would first enter the world. It might as well have been a movie set to me. But it was actually happening.

Laboring With An Epidural

This moment of defeat ultimately became my saving grace. I was convinced I would deliver Abigail without any pain medication. I prepared for it, took a course on natural pain management techniques, and researched my butt off to help myself know what to expect. But after the epidural kicked in, I was instantly grateful for modern medicine.

Getting the epidural wasn’t a walk in the park though. As the anesthesiologist inserted the tube, I grew in discomfort. The moderate “pinch and pressure” that he warned me of felt more like he was forcing my vertebrae down into one another like nesting cups. That pain soon overtook the contraction pain, which he seemed concerned about. But I was not thrilled with the idea of him starting over. He instead upped the local numbing medication and soon I was able to withstand the procedure again.

Lying back, I waited and prayed for it to kick in. Within 15 minutes, I was golden. I felt so much relief. There was a moment of feeling “ok, that’s done! Now what should we do to pass the time?” And Kevin and I went right into figuring that out. We put on the tv to watch the summer Paris Olympics. I think swimming events were the main ones we saw (though we watched so much Olympics that hospital stay I’m not quite sure what event we watched when).

Kevin got me a cherry ice pop when I was feeling tired, to kick my sugar back up. Because of the gestational diabetes, the nurses checked my sugar levels every few hours. It was always in the low- to mid-80s, which was for my usual day-to-day numbers. And no wonder – I was still laboring out a human even though I could no longer feel the contractions! My body was doing a lot of work without me even realizing it. By late afternoon I was feeling hungry, so I refueled with chicken broth and jello – glamorous hospital food!

After that, I napped. I couldn’t believe it when I woke up – I actually napped during labor! By the time I woke up, it was almost 4pm – the time when we were supposed to be checking into the hospital for my induction. Abigail truly scrapped that plan. The doctor came in shortly after to check my progress – 6 cm! I had my water broken, officially activating my labor and steadily moving me toward delivery. I don’t know why, but the number shocked me. Being only 3 cm less than 5 hours earlier made 6 feel like a huge jump. But that’s also when the seriousness of labor got to me… Abigail’s heart rate suddenly dropped.

A Sudden Scare

I didn’t know it at the moment. All I knew was one second I was getting a cervical check and the next the nurse and my doctor were turning frantic and more nurses rushed in. They were talking amongst themselves about preparing some syringe of medication to stop the contractions, and they quickly began turning me to my side. “I’m going to need you to cooperate best you can, mama,” my doctor told me, as she began to explain she needed me in a hands and knees position, stat!

That felt like an impossible task, especially since now I was in a panic and shaking from the epidural medication and excitement. “Why? What’s happening? Someone tell me what’s going on? Kevin?!” Once they got me in position Kevin demanded an explanation. They said her heart rate suddenly dropped and they may need to halt labor – that can be done?! But just as they were about to try, her heart rate came back up. The buzz of the room screeched to a stop, and it was as if you could feel everyone’s shoulders drop. Except mine.

I was distraught. It was the scariest experience of my life. I was still shaking violently from it even up to an hour after when the new nurse came in to introduce herself for the night shift. But seeing her come in startled me further – what now? All I could think of was the team of medical professionals rushing in, so a new face re-triggered that PTSD. Luckily all was fine after that.

She’s Here!

A couple hours later, I felt the contractions again. Not painful, but intense. I moved to my side with some help and held onto the bed rail to breathe through them as they grew in intensity. By 7pm our new nurse, Brittany (I say her name because she was so kind and helped me regain my confidence in the rest of the process), began preparing the room for delivery, because I insisted it felt like she was coming. I tried laboring down on my own, focusing on the feelings of the contractions to help my baby along.

Another check found me at 8 cm. All along that day, I told Kevin I felt we would be pushing by the 8:00 hour. Seemed like I would be right! 8:00 pm came and so did my doctor – she talked me through the pushing stage but at that point the pressure was so intense I had to return to my early labor breathing patterns to cope. I asked to push on my side, but as I progressed I naturally and gradually turned to my back between contractions.

The pushing was hard work. But so much so that the in-between felt like nothing. I could talk and laugh and joke with Kevin and my doctor and nurse in between. And I was able to warn them when a contraction was coming, sometimes faster than the monitor could detect it (that made me so proud – my body and I could still work together despite the epidural which is what I wanted out of my birth experience ultimately)! Kevin asked how long pushing might take, and we were told it ranges from a few minutes to several hours. I was determined it would be quick.

20 minutes in, the doctor agreed. I was able to reach and feel Abby’s head. A grand total 30 minutes of pushing, and she was out! Her crying was instant, as soon as her head appeared – the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. I cried instant happy tears! They placed her on my stomach and Kevin was able to cut her cord. But because of the scare earlier, a NICU team was standing by to check her vitals right after that. Kevin followed her over to the bassinet and I kept calling out to her to let her hear my voice.

Soon enough they handed back my 8lb 2oz, perfectly healthy baby girl. That golden hour of skin-to-skin time flew by and I couldn’t stop staring at her – and she stared back at me. My beautiful Abigail Claire was finally here and in my arms. We had done it, her and me together. God was so faithful.

A Letter to Abigail Claire

My dear Abigail Claire,

Being your mom is already the greatest pride of my entire life. Knowing you is the culmination of a lot of prayers, hopes, dreams, tears and trials – you are truly my biggest dream come true. I’ve wanted to be a mom since I was a little girl playing with baby dolls. I know that I have prepared my whole life for this, yet I feel so unprepared for what’s to come. I hope I live up to being even half the mom my mom was for me. You deserve that and more!

You are the most beautiful, precious gift God has ever given me. I cherish you every day and promise to do so the rest of my life, never forgetting that you are an absolute miracle – my rainbow baby. You dad and I will always be your support, your home, your safety. We will do our very best everyday to raise you to be the kind, loving, gentle, adventurous little girl we hope you will be.

Most of all, my dear Abigail Claire, we pray daily that you will come to experience the love, grace and mercy of Jesus Christ, one day inviting him into your life as your Lord and Savior. We pray that you will be a fierce witness and powerful catalyst in bringing the Gospel further into our world. And that you will know His everlasting peace and hold the hope of Heaven in your heart all your days.

I love you endlessly, sweetheart.

Love,

Mama

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This journal post is one of our personal stories – shared so you can get to know us on a deeper level, since we hope to share and capture some of your most precious memories! (And so we have a little corner of the internet to store our most precious memories.) Learn more about us. And see examples of my work over on my portfolio if you’re hoping to inquire about your wedding photography!

[Photos throughout this post are credited to the amazingly talented Jessica Green Photography]