A First-Time Mom's Induction Story
Names have been changed to protect the privacy of this family.
When Maya called me, I could hear the mix of worry and uncertainty in her voice. She was 38 weeks pregnant with her first baby, and her OB had just recommended an induction. The reason: the baby was measuring small on ultrasound, and the doctor wanted to get her out sooner rather than later.
"Is this normal?" she asked. "Should I be scared?"
I asked her a few questions — what her fluid levels looked like, whether baby had been moving well, what her instincts were telling her. By the end of our conversation she felt calmer, not because I had all the answers, but because she understood what questions to bring back to her care team. After one more conversation with her doctor, Maya and her partner Jesse felt ready. They would go in the next evening to begin the induction.
I met them at the hospital to help them get settled — making sure they were comfortable, that their bags were organized, that they knew how to call the nurse, and that they felt at ease in what can be a pretty clinical environment. Once Maya was hooked up and resting, and Jesse had figured out how to fold himself onto the pull-out chair, I headed home. There was nothing urgent to do yet, and they needed rest more than they needed me.
Jesse texted a little while later. She's comfortable enough to sleep. We're good. I smiled and put my phone on the nightstand.
In the morning I checked in. The doctor had already been by — they were removing the Foley catheter and starting Pitocin within the hour. We texted back and forth for the next couple of hours as things slowly picked up. Then Jesse called: "We think we're ready for you."
When I walked in, Maya was working hard but steady. Over the next ten hours we found our rhythm together — slow walks down the hall, the birth ball, side-lying with pillows tucked in all the right places. I reminded her to eat a little something when she could, to keep sipping water. During the quieter stretches between contractions, we talked. About how she and Jesse met at a hiking trail in Acadia. About her mother, who had driven up from Connecticut and was waiting by her phone. About what they were planning to name the baby. Jesse held Maya's hand and occasionally looked at me with wide eyes that said is this normal and I would give him a small nod that said yes, she's doing great.
Then things shifted. The contractions were longer, closer, harder to talk through. I suggested the tub.
The change was immediate. In the warm water, Maya found something close to rest — drifting in the space between contractions, her body doing the work it was built to do. She stayed there for a good hour. When she finally climbed out, wrapped in warm towels, she looked different. More focused. More inside herself.
The next stretch was the hardest. Contractions were intense and relentless. Jesse and I took turns with hip squeezes, and a firm counter-pressure that sounds too simple to help but almost always does. Maya tried a few positions before landing on hands and knees, her arms braced against the raised back of the bed. This one, she said. This is the one.
She was right. A while later she looked up at me and said quietly, "I feel like I'm getting close." I let the nurse know, who paged the OB. The doctor checked her and smiled. "You're going to start pushing soon."
Two hours of pushing later — focused, strong, determined pushing — Maya and Jesse's daughter arrived. Six pounds of perfect. The room filled with that particular kind of joy that doesn't quite have a word for it.
I drove home thinking about what an honor it is to be let into moments like this one. Inductions can feel scary when they're unexpected, and a first birth is one of the most vulnerable experiences a person can go through. But Maya didn't need me to do anything heroic. She needed someone to answer her questions honestly, help her find the positions that worked for her body, remind her to eat a sandwich, and sit with her in the hard hours. That's the work. And it never gets old.
If you're expecting and wondering whether a doula might be right for your family, feel free to reach out to us at the Doula Collaborative of Maine. We'd love to talk.
