Welcoming Baby Lirael

Before early labor, the body experiences irregular mild contractions, and for two days, I kept questioning what I was feeling, deep in self-doubt. Was I in labor? No, it can't be—everyone I've ever talked to told me that I would KNOW when I was in labor. I did not find that to be true. It took two days for me to DECIDE I was actually in labor, to stop questioning what I was feeling.

Without going into the gory details, my labor was unusually long. I questioned myself as often as I was coherent enough to do so. I labored for three days before finding the resolve to once again make a decision. The third evening, before going to the birth center for another check-in, I sat with my husband at the dining table, breathing through contractions, and told him that if we didn't get a report of reasonable progress, I might decide to go to the hospital for pain relief. I hadn't slept in three days, and my resolve and my body were weakening. Despite my mantra of "I can do hard things," I was on the edge. My water broke at our check-in, so we stayed at the birth center. Eventually, I was given an IV for hydration. Four hours later, after dramatically more intense contractions, something snapped in my brain. I was done. Man was that the right call!

I have a friend and bodyworker to thank for the words I needed to hear: "It's okay to take care of myself." This became my new mantra. No one was telling me that—not after three days of labor with a great birth team. It was ME who had the words; I just had to get to the right place to remember them. I had already known on some level that I needed different help—I knew it sitting at the dining table. But only I could make that call, only I could decide where my limits were and when I had passed them.

When I'm coaching people or taking folks on hikes, I always tell them that we are capable of more than we know. I was in true labor for three days straight with about three hours of sleep in all that time. I had absolutely done more than I imagined I ever would have. And I realized I needed help if I was going to go the rest of the way.

In the end, I got to hold my baby girl after 74 hours of labor, and it was incredible. My husband describes the birth itself as having been so charged with energy that it was like a chorus of angels was in attendance. We made it through the ordeal with a beautiful 8 lb 6oz reward.

I can do hard things. At 5 years old, I went on my first 5-day backpacking trip. At 16, I completed a long-distance cycling event after seriously crashing 15 miles in and getting a replacement bike to finish the ride. I regularly hike 7-9 miles one-way, and right before getting pregnant, I completed a 22-mile day with a 40-pound pack over Stoney Indian Pass in Glacier National Park. And finally, I endured a 74-hour labor to bring my daughter earthside.

We can all do hard things, but here's what no one tells you: real strength isn't just pushing through. It's knowing when your knees are about to buckle and having the guts to say "I need help." That dining table moment - where I admitted I might need to change plans - took more resolve than any mountain I've climbed. Because true endurance isn't about being unbreakable. It's about being brave enough to bend, to question, and sometimes to surrender - and still come out the other side.