On Wednesday, April 4th, we went for a walk on the beach. We did one lap, then went to Carrefour. We wanted to go to Jumbo too, but we were already tired. At Carrefour I ate a chicken and feta salad. At home we watched Survivor, and around 10 p.m. we made some fried eggs and ate them with pickled red peppers and raw cauliflower, plus some bread. We went to sleep around 11:30.

Around 12:30 a.m. I woke up. I was lying on my side and felt my water break (not much, just enough to fill a super absorbent pad), and I had a sensation similar to period cramps. I told my husband and went to the bathroom to pee. I felt more fluid coming out. When I wiped, the water was slightly pink. Contractions started right away. I stayed on the toilet for a while. It was okay — I needed a moment to get used to the sensations. Then I went back to bed to sleep between contractions.

Later, I was on the toilet and looked at the clock. It was 4 a.m. I could already feel that I needed emotional support. I called the doula to come. The contractions had become deeper, and I had to focus more seriously on my breathing. I felt I had a choice: to panic because it was a new sensation, or to stay centered. (This is exactly why, in the course/book, I added exercises that mimic the sensations of birth — so you know in advance how it feels and you don’t choose panic when your mind interprets something new as danger, which makes you resist instead of letting go — and that resistance is what creates pain.)

I was still on the toilet. She arrived around 5. I stayed on the toilet some more. The doula suggested my husband go to Mega Image to buy pineapple juice and dates. I said no. I felt he was my anchor no matter what. He stayed beside me and timed the contractions, but he couldn’t tell exactly when they started, so he was guessing the timer. The doula went to the store. When she came back — what felt like a second later — she tried to give me dates to eat, but I couldn’t swallow between contractions, and I needed my mouth free to breathe and stay focused. That sticky, super-sweet thing in my mouth was distracting me from breathing. Oxygen was more important.

Then I went back to bed to sleep a little more. The contractions were frequent — every 2–3 minutes, according to my husband’s rough timing. He eventually gave up trying to time them. My husband lay down next to me in bed and fell asleep. I could hear him snoring. I managed to sleep between contractions too. Doula Carmen was in the living room, doing a puzzle.

It was already bright outside, and she let me sleep a little longer before coming to wake me gently and encourage me to get up and walk around the house — to take a few steps so things could progress faster. But I felt so good in bed. The contractions were comfortable, and I felt extremely relaxed, half asleep. I didn’t like the idea of getting up. I tried walking a bit, but it wasn’t comfortable — the contractions felt stronger. And walking distracted me and pulled me out of that deep inner state of relaxation.

So I chose to sit on the birthing ball. I put a towel over it. Being upright helped, and I could sway a little, but it still wasn’t ideal for me. I think I mostly stayed still — I’m not entirely sure — but the fact that the doula suggested again that we try walking makes me think that’s what was happening.

We walked twice, and from here everything becomes a blur. I don’t remember clearly — I was very inward-focused. I think that by around 9 or 10 a.m., I was walking through the house, but I only did a few rounds, because contractions felt stronger while standing. I leaned on Carmen during each one. When I lost control of my breathing during a few contractions — it happened once, and then with the next ones she breathed with me to help me stay focused. Two or three passed. She kept telling me to breathe in a very soft voice, and it was so easy to reconnect to my breath. It’s amazing to have support when you’re reaching the end of the active phase and you feel like you could lose yourself a bit.

I only had a few more contractions before the pushing sensation appeared. I felt like I needed to drop down. The doula asked me what I was feeling. I told her I thought I needed to push. I announced that it was time to leave for the maternity hospital. I sat a little longer on the toilet. Since it was April, it was cold and I needed pants — I don’t even remember who helped me get dressed. We went down two flights of stairs and got into the car. We arrived quickly — the maternity hospital was only five minutes away.

From the moment the urge to push started, the intense contractions disappeared. The uterus switched to a different mode of work — long pauses and very soft, gentle pushing contractions.

The doctor on call — a beautiful woman, blonde, with a stylish short/medium haircut — checked me and told me I was already in the pushing phase. Someone brought a wheelchair; I undressed in the bathroom in mega slow motion by myself, and they took me upstairs to the birth room. The water was already running into the tub, but it was only beginning to fill. The main doctor was already there, plus a woman from England who was probably doing some kind of internship or exchange, a midwife, and a few other people. They put in an IV line, just to have it ready.

One of the women — I’m not sure if she was the midwife or the nurse — kept placing the Doppler on my belly from time to time through a black garbage bag (because I was in the water) to check the baby’s heartbeat.

My doula was behind me, massaging my shoulders and rubbing oil in my skin. My husband was on my left side, behind me, gently stroking my head, then holding his hand on my shoulder. I turned toward him and said:

“Just so you know… it’s okay. It doesn’t hurt.”

My contractions were short, and I couldn’t push for as long as the doctor wanted — he wanted three pushes of eight seconds each. I could barely manage two. But I still forced a third one out. Completely pointless.

There was no pain at all. It honestly just felt like I still had a tiny bit of poop left. You could feel the baby’s head right there. Apparently he was blonde, but I thought they were joking. I touched it too — it was this soft, silky thing that didn’t even feel like a head. They hadn’t had time to put oil on me before getting into the tub, and the doctor kept trying to spread it on me underwater. She said my perineal muscle was holding strong. (Well, who trained their “pubococcygeus muscle” for years? Not during pregnancy, obviously!)

They gave me some vitamins because they figured I hadn’t eaten and needed energy. The doctor kept saying she “had to do an episiotomy” and asked someone to bring the kit. Then she told me to get out of the water and give birth on the bed (all of this was meant to “motivate” me to push harder so I’d avoid the episiotomy — because they all knew I didn’t want any of that. I knew they were joking, but honestly, it was annoying, not motivating.)

A midwife tried to push the baby down by pressing on the top of my uterus, but I didn’t like it. I refused twice; they waited a bit, but they kept looking at the clock. At 1 p.m., their shift for consultations was starting. Under the pretext of “fetal distress,” they eventually pushed together — the doctor and the midwife at the same time — and he came out instantly. (Remember, when you’re in the hospital, you have a timer on you for each stage!)

It felt like a slightly stronger mosquito bite, literally one second. I immediately felt his head slip out, then he rotated, and his shoulders and the rest of his body came out in another second. He was already placed on my chest. I rubbed his back right away. They covered him with a blanket, and he turned pink.

They drained the tub immediately, and I had to get out with the baby in my arms. I got onto the bed, legs up, so they could check the damage and deliver the placenta. Sergiu cut the cord after it had already turned white. I also touched it to make sure it wasn’t pulsing anymore.

I had a vaginal tear on the left and a tear on the right labia that needed stitches, plus one tiny one that didn’t require stitching.

The placenta came out — I didn’t feel a thing. I didn’t feel any contractions for the placenta either. The doctor told me it was right at the exit and to give a tiny push. Apparently it was tiny and beautiful.

The vaginal tear didn’t hurt at all while being stitched. We talked about whether to leave the labial tear as it was or not. I honestly didn’t care in that moment, so they decided to stitch it with a bit of local anesthesia.

The labial tear bothered me slightly, but I was so fascinated by the baby that I wasn’t paying attention to anything else. I was in the peak of those “falling-in-love” hormones. Because the whole process was so natural, my hormones worked perfectly.

I don’t know exactly how long the expulsion phase lasted. I think I was still at home around 10 in the morning, and by 12:30 the baby was born. Around 2-something pm we were already in our room. My husband was carrying the baby in his arms on the way there. I was in the wheelchair, going up in the elevator. The doula stayed with me. Then my husband left to buy a few things and bring the bags from the car.

While the doula was holding the baby, I took a shower, with my husband helping me. It’s a safety measure recommended after birth, just in case you get dizzy. It stung a little the first time I peed (I poured water at the same time), but honestly not worse than it sometimes does after sex.

The baby was a bit restless that night — I think it was too quiet. I turned on the TV with the volume low, and he calmed down. In the womb there’s a lot of noise from all the activity of your body.

We left after 2 days on our own responsibility, because we simply couldn’t rest with all the constant interruptions from the staff. It was unbelievable how much bustle there was. Starting at 6 a.m. everything begins: cleaning, food, my doctor coming to check the lochia and examine the area, the neonatologist coming to check the baby, weighing, then more towel changes, toilet paper restocked, food, the nurse bringing routine postpartum medication. You barely manage to close your eyes before someone else walks in again.

Postpartum Notes:

Lochia — like a period from day three–four.

Feet more swollen than in pregnancy for about a week.

Belly deflated.

Back pain for two–three days until the body gets used to the shifted center of gravity.

Fingers deflated in two–three days.

Baby started being interested in sucking on day four, also had jaundice (I refused the lamp). I squeezed colostrum (the yellow milk) into his mouth.