My Birth Felt Like A Mushroom Trip
I brought my birth plan, my intuition and a whole lot of raspberry leaf tea and still wound up on Pitocin.
I tried to induce labor with everything short of casting a spell.
Spoiler: it didn’t work.
I’ve always seen myself as a bridge between two worlds — the mystic and the medical, the woo and the grounded, the sacred and the scientific. So when I found out I was pregnant, I wanted to give birth in a way that honored both.
I chose a hospital birth, but with as little intervention as possible.
I hired a doula. I meditated regularly. I massaged my perineum. I took raspberry leaf tea and Vitamin C. I also showed up for every ultrasound, did the gestational diabetes test, and met with my OB.
I drank the glucose solution… but there was no way I was getting the flu shot.
I was walking the line, trusting both my intuition and the system.
I wrote out my birth plan and waited for baby to come.
And waited.
And waited.
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At eight days overdue, an ultrasound showed that my daughter’s amniotic fluid was borderline low. The medical team recommended induction that day.
But I didn’t feel ready. I still believed she would come on her own.
After a stress test and several hours in the hospital, we went home. The next day, same ultrasound results. Same recommendation. I made a deal with my doctor: if she didn’t arrive over the weekend, I’d come in for an induction Monday morning.
In the meantime, I pulled out all the stops.
Here’s a list of everything I did to try and induce labor naturally:
• Miles circuit
• Spicy food
• Sex
• Pumping/nipple stimulation
• A zillion dates
• Raspberry leaf tea (daily)
• Pineapple
• Every viral “labor-inducing” yoga video on YouTube
• Acupressure (twice)
• Massage
• Foot rubs
• Daily exercise ball
• Membrane sweep
• Relaxation
• Induction meditations
• Oxytocin-inducing frequencies at night
I truly left no stone unturned. I even hoped the full moon might do the trick.
No luck.
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Monday morning. I was 1 cm dilated and 80% effaced when I checked into the hospital. We started with a mechanical induction and small doses of Pitocin.
This was the moment I had to let go.
Let go of the natural birth I had visualized. Let go of the plan I had printed out.
Let go of the version of me that had spent 34 years basing every decision on me.
I had chosen to birth inside a system, now I had to trust it.
And somewhere deep down, I knew: relaxing my grip on how it was supposed to go might be the very thing that allowed Millie to come through.
So I focused on what I could control:
Breathing through the contractions.
Working with my doula to help baby descend.
Letting my partner, who showed up like a legend, hold space for me in all of it.
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Birth Tip I Wish I Knew Sooner:
“Can I have a moment to talk this through with my partner?”
It gives you space to breathe, feel into the choice, and make decisions from a grounded place, not from fear or pressure.
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One of my favorite, oddly tender memories from that day was seeing my birth plan taped to the wall. My dad had printed it out for me and in true Boomer fashion, he printed the entire email thread, including his reply to my original request:
“I’ll print it when I get back from Whole Foods.”
It was right there at the top of the document, as if that, too, was part of the plan.
Honestly, it kind of was. It made me laugh every time I looked at it, a small reminder that this was still my birth: imperfect, supported, and very, very human.
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Twelve-ish hours. A few hot baths. An epidural.
And an hour and a half of pushing later…Millie was born.
I can’t emphasize this enough: giving birth is a portal.
It felt like the wildest mushroom trip of my life.
After 7 hours of labor and only reaching 8 cm, I finally surrendered to the epidural. And honestly? It felt like heaven’s gates opened. Like I was peaking on psychedelics. That part of the trip when you and your best friend are lying on the couch going, What the actual f** just happened?*
Josh and I whispered to each other in the hospital bed, barely able to contain the mix of anticipation and surreal calm.
I couldn’t feel anything below my waist, and I had no idea when I was contracting, but when it was time to push, I knew she had to come fast. She was sunny side up, and I was afraid it would end in a C-section.
But we did it.
My water broke naturally as I was pushing, one final, sacred thread from the vision I had held.
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When you hear stories of women freebirthing in Costa Rica or catching their babies in bathtubs under candlelight, you realize they’re birthing in a completely different construct. Merging intuition and medicine inside a Western system? That’s its own kind of initiation.
That said, I gave birth at a hospital that did their best to honor both worlds. They had a beautiful birthing center. They listened. They didn’t always agree, but they respected our choices. And I appreciated that deeply.
Would I want to give birth at home next time?
Maybe.
I’d love to experience a space even more aligned with what I believe.
And still — I’m proud of my birth.
Even though I was induced.
Even though it didn’t look the way I imagined.
Even though I had to surrender over and over again.
Because giving birth is never just about you anymore.
And while I had dreamed of letting Millie choose her moment, I also had to make the safest decision for both of us. That’s what parenting started as: a balance between intuition and responsibility. Between magic and medicine.
She didn’t come the way I imagined, but she came through me.
And that, to me, is still magic.