Camille’s Birth Story
Camille Kelly Koch’s
Birth STory
Before I share this story, I want to gently acknowledge that birth stories can sometimes feel emotional, intense, or even triggering… especially when unexpected medical moments are involved. While there were definitely some scary and overwhelming parts of this experience, both Camille and I are healthy, safe, and doing well, which is what matters most.
I also wanted to share my story because, despite reading all the books, preparing as much as possible, and having already gone through labor once before, I had never really heard much about this kind of experience. The prolonged “is this labor or not?” emotional warfare, multiple false alarms, rapid progression, and suddenly missing the epidural despite actively trying not to… it simply wasn’t something I felt prepared for.
It wasn’t until I briefly mentioned parts of my experience that my DMs were flooded with women sharing nearly identical stories. That alone made me want to share this. Because while every birth story is different, there was something incredibly validating in realizing I wasn’t alone, and maybe this story will help another mom feel a little less blindsided, too.
The Birth Plan
Going into this birth, my plan was honestly pretty simple: make it to the hospital in time for the epidural and for the baby to arrive safely.
After having a more traditional epidural experience with Conrad, I felt very clear about my preferences this time around. I wasn’t looking to prove anything, and I certainly wasn’t hoping for some wildly empowering unmedicated experience. I simply wanted pain management, a safe hospital delivery, and to avoid any unnecessary drama. What unfolded instead was nearly a full week of labor limbo, emotional exhaustion, and a delivery experience that reminded me just how unpredictable birth can truly be.
Although Camille was ultimately born on March 18th, my labor story really began five days earlier. On March 13th, I woke up around 2 AM with light contractions. They were inconsistent, uncomfortable, and just frequent enough to make me wonder if this might finally be the beginning. By morning, I had bloody show and waves of cramping, but by evening, everything had completely subsided.
That pretty much set the tone for the next several days.
In Labor… Or not in labor?
For nearly a week, I lived in an exhausting cycle of contractions that would start, intensify, disappear, and then return just enough to keep me questioning everything. Every evening felt like it could be the beginning, and every morning I woke up still pregnant, wondering when (or if) things would truly begin.
Physically, it was tiring. Emotionally, it was absolute warfare. The constant mental game of “Is this it?” followed by disappointment was honestly one of the hardest parts. And yet, through all of it, I kept trying to ground myself in the reminder that babies come when they’re ready. As frustrating as the uncertainty was, I truly believed Camille would arrive exactly when she was supposed to, and that mindset helped carry me through the chaos.
Still… it didn’t make the waiting game any less maddening. Because my water had broken first with Conrad, this slower and far more inconsistent progression felt especially confusing. Add in everyone constantly warning me that second babies often come faster, and I became hyper-aware of timing, symptoms, and every possible scenario.
Somewhere in the middle of all this uncertainty, Conrad gave us one of the more memorable moments of the week. On the morning of March 15th, he came running into our room saying, “Mama water break!” At first, I assumed he wanted my water bottle, but then he repeated himself and followed it up with, “Baby sister coming soon. I go to Grandma’s house.”
To this day, I’m still not entirely sure what to make of that one, but it felt memorable. Later that night, contractions became much more intense and close enough together that we finally called my OB and headed to the hospital around 10 PM. I genuinely thought this was it.
Instead, after hours in triage, I was told I was only 4 cm dilated, not progressing enough, and was sent home. To say this was emotionally deflating would be an understatement. Being told to “just come back later” after finally feeling mentally ready was incredibly frustrating, especially while also coordinating childcare and trying to make thoughtful decisions about when to go in.
Thankfully, the resident OB who saw me that night was incredibly kind and reassuring. She validated that I had absolutely done the right thing by coming in, which helped ease at least some of the self-doubt. The next morning, still pregnant and emotionally drained, I went to acupuncture, where my acupuncturist worked on positioning and pressure points in hopes of helping labor progress.
Then came March 17th, my due date.
At my 40 week OB appointment, I had a sonogram, stress test, and membrane sweep, all while hoping this would finally encourage things along. Everything looked healthy and headed in the right direction, but labor still wasn’t fully committing.
Rather than sitting around anxiously waiting, I decided to make the most of the day. My sister chauffeured me around for what ended up being one of my sweetest memories before delivery: getting my nails done, eating Mexican food, and wandering TJ Maxx together while Brian nervously worried about me being too far from home. Looking back, I’m incredibly grateful for that unexpectedly special girls’ day with my baby sister!
By March 18th, after yet another round of overnight contractions that tapered off by morning, my acupuncturist came to my house one more time. At this point, I really wasn’t hopeful, but I was trying all of the things at this point! But almost immediately after she left, contractions started ramping up again. By evening, things were clearly intensifying. My son was literally climbing on my back during contractions, and Brian finally called my mom to come help with Conrad.
march 18th, 8:00pm
We left for the hospital around 8 PM, cautiously hopeful but still unsure whether this was truly it or simply another false alarm because my contractions were still very irregular. Thankfully, once we arrived, a compassionate nurse immediately recognized I was in active labor and admitted me quickly, sparing us another drawn-out triage process.
At that point, I felt relieved. I had made it. I was still around 4 cm dilated, and there was every reason to believe there was still time for the epidural. That assumption would prove very wrong. While we waited for bloodwork clearance before anesthesia could proceed, contractions became nearly unbearable. I started feeling an overwhelming amount of pressure and told my nurse I needed to use the bathroom.
She very calmly asked, “Do you need to pee, or do you feel like you need to push?” As someone who absolutely did not want the answer to be “push,” I very quickly assured her that I just needed to pee.
Truthfully, I was terrified. Sitting on the toilet did offer a little relief, so I parked myself there for a minute, trying to ride out the contractions. Then suddenly, my water broke. At that point, my nurse became very motivated to get me back into bed.
I, on the other hand, was quite comfortable where I was and essentially responded with, “No thanks, I’m good.” She was persistent. I was in denial. Looking back, I now fully realize Camille may very well have been born in that hospital toilet if my nurse hadn’t firmly insisted I move.
Thankfully, she won that battle. Within minutes of getting back into bed, I was checked again. 8 cm. Suddenly, everything shifted. The anesthesiologist arrived. Nurses rushed. Doctors swarmed.
The nurse took one look at me and said something along the lines of, “I don’t think she’s going to be able to sit still for this.” To which I very confidently insisted, “YES I WILL. I WILL SIT STILL FOR THE EPIDURAL.” I was absolutely determined. But just before the anesthesiologist could get started, the resident checked me one more time.
“You’re 10 centimeters. I’m so sorry, but it’s too late for the epidural.”
I was completely stunned. After nearly a week of contractions, false alarms, timing everything, and doing my absolute best to avoid this exact situation, I genuinely could not believe what I was hearing. Meanwhile, Brian looked like he had seen a ghost. Considering my entire life everyone had labeled me as having zero pain tolerance, I think he truly had no idea how either of us were about to survive what came next.
And yet… here we were. The team immediately shifted into delivery mode and encouraged me to push, while I remained firmly in denial. I vividly remember yelling, “I do not consent to this!” and clenching her in which, looking back, is honestly one of the funnier lines of my life… but in the moment, I was truly terrified. An unmedicated birth had never once crossed my mind as part of my plan. Not even a little.
Everything escalated so quickly that there was barely time to process what was happening. One minute I was preparing for an epidural, and the next I was fully in transition, trying to mentally catch up to my body. It was intense, overwhelming, and honestly felt a little barbaric. Brian now jokes that I was screaming loudly enough to wake everyone in the morgue, which… feels accurate. I also vividly remember feeling his breath directly in my face and thinking he was sweetly trying to cool me down or coach me through it. Turns out, he later informed me he was just panic-heavy-breathing. Somewhere in the absolute chaos of it all, I finally accepted what was happening.
March 18th, 9:30pm
With one enormous push, sweet Camille Kelly entered the world at 9:30 PM sharp… so quickly that she arrived before my doctor could fully make it into the hospital. The same incredibly kind resident OB who had cared for me during triage ended up delivering her.
And just like that, after nearly a week of uncertainty, emotional turmoil, false alarms, and one spectacularly missed epidural, she was here, and she was perfect. One especially emotional detail was that Camille was born weighing exactly 7 pounds, 14 ounces, the same birth weight as her late Aunt Kelly, whom she is named after. That felt deeply meaningful in a way that is difficult to fully articulate.
Despite how terrified I had been, the moment it was over, I felt an overwhelming rush of adrenaline. I still don’t think I would ever choose an unmedicated birth if given the option, but I can absolutely understand why some women describe it as empowering. That said… I would still personally choose the epidural.
After being transferred to the mother-baby unit sometime after midnight, I was starving beyond belief. A sweet nurse somehow found me a two-day-old expired turkey sandwich, which, under normal circumstances, sounds horrifying. But in that moment? It was quite possibly the best meal of my life.
Officially postpartum
As intense as labor itself was, postpartum has brought its own unexpected challenges. Around two and a half weeks postpartum, I developed severe upper right rib pain in the middle of the night, rushed to the emergency room, and was ultimately diagnosed with gallstones. Surgery is now scheduled for later this month, adding yet another layer to this postpartum journey. I’m now 2 for 2 on postpartum surgeries, since I had retained placenta from my birth with Conrad.
We also discovered that Camille has a dairy intolerance, which has meant navigating dairy-free nursing, combo feeding, formula supplementation, and preparing for surgery… all while adjusting to life as a family of four.
Needless to say, this season has not exactly gone according to plan. But maybe that’s motherhood. Messy, beautiful, humbling, unpredictable, and often very different from what we imagined. This journey stretched me physically, emotionally, and mentally in ways I never expected, but it also reminded me just how resilient women truly are.
Sometimes strength looks like carefully crafted plans. And sometimes strength looks like surrendering when those plans fall apart and trusting yourself anyway. Through every contraction, every false alarm, and every unexpected turn, I would do it all again for her.
Thank you for reading
If you’ve made it this far, I truly appreciate you being here. Birth, motherhood, and postpartum have stretched me in ways I never could have fully prepared for, but this experience has also reminded me just how incredible our bodies truly are. Writing this was more emotional than I expected, but I’m so grateful for the opportunity to share it, and even more grateful for the kindness, support, and encouragement so many of you continue to offer during some of my most vulnerable seasons.
Above all, I am endlessly thankful for my healthy, happy babies and the perspective they’ve given me on strength, resilience, and love.
xx CMK
all photos by Sarah Bridgeman
