How to Debrief Your Birth
Two Rivers Childbirth

How to Debrief Your Birth

When I was pregnant with my eldest all I could think about was the moment when I was going to meet my baby for the very first time. The daisy-chain of days leading up to that moment were in sharp focus in my imagination while the weeks and months after that glorious moment were little more than a hazy blur. I had carefully planned my steps leading to birth, but it turns out that I didn’t know how to walk away from it.

One of the things I’m passionate about as a doula and childbirth educator is not only to help families prepare for birth, to climb that brutal and beautiful mountain along side them, but to walk with them down the other side into life after birth, too, because birth is only the beginning, baby.

Just as you would debrief after completing a project or an event, new parents need a safe way to process this massive occasion in their lives. With most postpartum care in the US currently limited to just one or two check-ins with your provider we wanted to create a tool to help guide families through the process.

This tool is not designed to change your perspective of your birth, necessarily, but to help place it in the larger context of your life and psyche. While it can be a helpful guide for beginning to write your birth story it’s less about creating a narrative or storyline, and more about embracing our feelings about the day our children were born, even when those feelings aren’t very pretty.

Give yourself a chunk of quiet, uninterrupted alone time to do this exercise. Expect to feel complicated or conflicting emotions, so go slow and be extra gentle with yourself. Use this tool to process a recent birth, to begin writing your birth story or to reflect on previous births in preparation of a pending one.

Birth Debrief Reflections

  • What was my pregnancy like? What were the joys and challenges?
  • How was labor different than I was expecting?
  • Is there anything I wish I could have done differently?
  • What was the most physically challenging part of labor?
  • What was the most mentally or emotionally challenging part of labor?
  • What coping tools worked best for me?
  • What coping tools didn’t work for me this time?
  • What was the hardest decision we made?
  • When did I feel most connected to my partner or baby?
  • How did my birth team support me well?
  • Where did I not get enough support?
  • What is one thing I wish I would have said to my birth team?
  • When did I feel powerful?
  • When was I proud of myself?
  • One funny moment was …
  • What was it like to meet my baby for the first time?
  • How was it different than I imagined?
  • What is one thing I know now that I wish I knew before labor?
  • What was the immediate postpartum like?
  • How was I supported well?
  • Where did I not get enough support?
  • What did I learn about myself?
  • In what ways did this experience change my relationship with my partner?
  • Is there anything I would choose to do differently if there is a next time?

We didn’t forget papas and partners, who need to process their birth experiences, too, especially when our culture gives them so little encouragement to do so.

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This post is part of our Birth Stories series:

How to Debrief Your Birth | Birth Story Timeline Prompt | Community Birth Stories Project

Photo: BergenHowlett.com

Community Birth Story | Apollo Walker
Two Rivers Childbirth

Community Birth Story | Apollo Walker

As told by Jessica:

On Thursday, March 1, a winter windstorm carrying 70 mph gusts ripped through Maryland. Stephen and I snuggled up with our two sweet pups, admiring the full moon outside our window, as we watched 10 Cloverfield Lane on Amazon Prime.

Stephen was getting over the tail-end of a cold, and slept in the guest bedroom so as not to wake me with his fits of coughing. I went to bed at 11pm. As I lay on my side, I felt my baby dance around in my belly as I drifted off to sleep. At 12:20am on Friday, March 2, at exactly 39 weeks, I woke in a near-panic, and shot out of bed. I was saturated. I ran to the bathroom, and in a haze, realized my water had broke. The feeling was so incredibly surreal, and dreamlike. I immediately ran to wake Stephen, and let him know what was going on. He jumped out of bed just about as quickly as I did. We luckily lined our brand new mattress with plastic two days prior. We also purchased Depends for my postpartum recovery. These were monumental to have on the drive to the hospital. Once my water broke, it did not stop. 

We called the midwives, and spoke with Kelly, who was on call at the time. She let us know that we’d need to make our way to the hospital. She urged us to arrive within two hours of our phone call. Had I not tested positive for Group B Strep (GBS), I would have been able to sleep in my own bed, and labor in the comfort of my home. We hadn’t finished packing our hospital bags, so we did this in a bit of a frenzy. I stood in my walk-in closet, tossing various items into my bag. My voice trembled as I called my dad to let him know we’d be heading to the hospital, and asked that he check in on our two pups when he could. My emotions were all over the place; excited, nervous, scared of the unknown. The dogs were confused as to what was going on, and uncertain why we were leaving them in the middle of the night, in the midst of a very wild windstorm. After hanging up with my dad, I called our doula, Kaylah. I alerted her of the situation, and let her know we would be heading to the hospital. We agreed to check in with her once we arrived and chatted with Kelly. 

We drove quickly down 270 to Shady Grove Adventist Hospital, as the wind pounded vigorously against our Honda. We arrived at the hospital about 2am. We checked in at Labor & Delivery, and began the triage process. The nurses immediately hooked my swollen belly up to the monitors, and Kelly came to speak with us. They confirmed that my water had indeed broke, and that I would be admitted into the hospital. We were going to have this baby! Contractions began on our drive to the hospital, however, these contractions would become a million times more intense and gut-wrenching over the next several hours. The nurses moved us to our room in Labor & Delivery, where we would spend the next 30 hours or so. Note: this labor was nearly 33 hours from the time my water broke until the time my son was born. 

Kelly encouraged Stephen and I to get some rest. I knew I desperately needed to sleep. We had heard all along that labor is a marathon, to which I had been training for, both physically and mentally. I didn’t sleep a wink, though. The anxiety alone kept me awake, as well as the check-ins from my midwife and nurse, and the low beeping and humming of the monitors. Stephen, however, was able to sleep throughout our duration in the hospital. Kudos to him. 

GBS positive test results aren’t without implication to the labor process. First, vaginal checks are limited, if done at all, as they can increase risk of infection. Second, every four hours, antibiotics are administered so that baby does not contract GBS. If contracted, this can cause extreme sickness, and even death. Third, it’s important to deliver the baby within 24 hours of the water breaking (again, to limit risk of infection). So, every four hours, precisely, I was administered antibiotics intravenously. Mind you, I hadn’t had antibiotics in six years. 

As I lay in my hospital bed, experiencing mild contractions, I alerted my employer that baby was coming. I sent a few emails, and once early morning rolled around, I sent a text to my immediate family that we’d been admitted to the hospital and baby was on his way. Kelly came by bright and early and she let us know if I wasn’t progressing enough on my own by noon, she’d like to administer Cytotec or pitocin to help move things along. I had been texting with Kaylah, and we agreed she should arrive by noon to help us with this decision. I had planned for a natural, vaginal birth. I didn’t want any medications (other than the antibiotic), so I was disappointed when Kelly brought up the induction discussion. 

Kelly encouraged me to get up, get ready as I normally would (do my hair, makeup, etc.), and eat a protein-rich breakfast. Stephen left around 8am or so to trek to the local Whole Foods. He brought me the most glorious breakfast; fried plantains, sausage, bacon, Kite Hill yogurt. I’d eat like a queen for the entire duration of our hospital stay, thanks to Stephen’s constant trips to Whole Foods. We walked the halls of the hospital to try to amp up my contractions.

Kaylah arrived at noon, and we began discussing our options. Cytotec is a drug used to treat stomach ulcers, however, is also used to soften the cervix and induce contractions. We opted to try Cytotec. I took the medication orally around 4pm, and contractions became stronger and stronger. I continued to contract, progressing with intensity over the next few hours. Kelly alerted us that her shift would end at 7pm, at which point Tara would takeover. I really connected with Tara throughout my prenatal visits, so I was ecstatic that she’d be the one to deliver our baby. 

Contractions became more and more intense, nearly unbearable. Stephen and Kaylah took turns applying heat and counter pressure to my back, and Kaylah guided me through various positional changes to ease the pain. Kelly’s shift ended, and she was pleased to see labor was progressing. At 7pm, I became the patient to a rockstar medical team. Tara came to greet me, as well as our amazing nurse, N. N was a young muslim woman; she was attentive, compassionate, smart, and overall, an incredible nurse. 

Over the next two and a half hours, contractions became excruciatingly painful. I was trying desperately to ride each wave; one at a time. Kaylah turned off the bright fluorescent hospital lights and placed flameless candles and string lights about my room, and bathroom. This was calming and helped to increase oxytocin levels. By this point, we had boycotted our own musical preferences and opted for Kaylah’s relaxing and mellow playlist. There were moments where I questioned why I ever got pregnant in the first place; moments where I truly thought I might die. Moments where the only place I was comfortable was straddling the backside of the toilet. 

The windstorm progressed; the hospital lost power. The lights flickered, as the generator kicked on. Snow slowly fell outside. The moon was full and bright. Nature was working with me to birth my child. 

Around 9:30pm, I was in so much pain, I was certain I was fully dilated and ready to birth this baby. We finally decided it was time to do a vaginal check. Tara had me lay back in bed, and determined that I was 2cm dilated. Defeat overcame me as I broke into tears. I had been working for nearly 24 hours; I hadn’t slept in 48 hours. I was exhausted. I couldn’t go on. At this point, Tara, Kaylah, Stephen, and N decided an epidural was in my best interest. Throughout childbirth education, and birth planning, I had chosen to avoid the epidural. However, my doula’s words that an epidural is neither good nor bad, but simply a tool, stuck with me. I agreed that it was time to use this tool. 

Around 10:30pm, the anesthesiologist came to administer the epidural. Stephen had stepped out, however, my rockstar team was with me. I sat up in bed, facing Tara, N and Kaylah. N gently wiped the tears from my eyes with a tissue, Tara and Kaylah gripped me tight. As the anesthesiologist asked me not to move, I began contracting. At this point, the pain from the contraction was worse than the needle entering my spine. Once the epidural was administered, my team had me laying in bed, hooked up intravenously. Relief slowly set in, and the lower half of my body went limp. In addition to the epidural, Tara began administering pitocin. The epidural caused me to have the shakes; I was shaking and shivering uncontrollably, and though uncomfortable, I was assured this was normal. 

Shortly after the epidural, I started to feel very strange. Before I could even report the feeling, N was already in my room, administering epinephrine. The epidural caused my blood pressure to drop very low. After two doses of epinephrine, I started to feel a bit better. N repositioned me every hour so as to get this baby in optimal position. Left side, right side, left side, right side, back. In between the position changes, I finally dozed in and out of sleep. Kaylah slept in the waiting room. Stephen slept on the cushions by the windows. 

This process continued throughout the night. Baby wasn’t reacting well to the pitocin, however, with some positional changes, and oxygen, I was assured that he was just fine. Kaylah texted around 5:45am. I let her know that I had dozed off, and gotten some rest. Stephen was still asleep. She came to my bedside to check in, and then went to grab some coffee and coconut water. In these quiet moments, I spoke softly to my pregnant belly. Let’s work together, little man. I need your help. 

Tara came in about 7:20am and did another vaginal check. This time, I was fully dilated. I texted Kaylah the awesome news, and she received my message as she was in the elevator on her way back to my room.

Tara advised that I relax for a couple of hours, as she wanted me to have the urge to push this baby out on my own. At this point, I was laying on my back, propped upright. My belly became increasingly more uncomfortable. I called my nurse, and finally, around 8:30am I asked for Tara to come see me. I couldn’t stand the discomfort any longer, so Tara suggested that we try a couple of “practice pushes.” As Tara suited up, she walked me through the process of pushing. Legs back, chin to chest, deep breath, push for 10 seconds. 

On my first push, Tara exclaimed that we weren’t practicing. She could see this baby boy’s head, and this baby was coming. I opted not to use a mirror, as I felt in tune with my body, and didn’t think it was necessary. In retrospect, it would have been pretty amazing to see the birth of my son. In the beginning, Tara was telling me when to push, however, after the second or third push, my instincts kicked in, and my body knew exactly when and how to birth this baby. Baby and I were working together. I told Tara when I was ready, and this process continued. Push, push, push. Tara exclaimed that he had a head full of dark hair. Stephen and Kaylah encouraged and cheered me on, each of them on either side of me, supporting my legs. I continued to listen to my body, and this baby’s head was out. He began crying as soon as his head emerged. More pushes and his little body slipped out from mine. 

This tiny little human that Stephen and I created was placed on my belly as he made his welcome into this world. He was tiny, and perfect, and he was finally here. Giving birth was a magical, miraculous, and nearly hallucinogenic experience. Apollo Walker Gulliford came into this world at 8:59am on March 3, 2018. In that very instant, my whole universe changed. My heart grew, exponentially. My soul was connected with his. His tiny hands grasped my finger, and I had never felt more complete. 


Stephen kissed me on the forehead as Tara and our nurse toweled off Apollo. After several moments of awe, and after the cord had stopped pulsing entirely, Stephen cut the umbilical cord. I could now have a better view of my son. His skin was perfectly pink, his hair was dark and wavy (which would later change), and I was amazed by how much he resembled me. Wide-eyed and alert, he locked eyes with me and my heart melted a bit deeper. This was the little man who I’d gotten to know so well for the last 39 weeks, moving and grooving in my belly. I looked at this beautiful new human, and felt such profound gratitude. Thank you for choosing us, sweet boy. I love you more than I’ll ever know how to express. 

(images 1, 2 credit to the Gulliford Family; 3 credit BergenHowlett.com)
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Click HERE to learn more about the Community Birth Stories Project or to submit your own birth story

Community Birth Story | Jocelyn
Two Rivers Childbirth

Community Birth Story | Jocelyn

As told by Chelsea:

I was eating dessert at Thanksgiving when my water broke. I was eating coconut cream pie to be specific. Just like I heard in the stories about when the water breaks, I felt the sensation of peeing my pants. I was at my husband’s aunt’s Thanksgiving get together. My sister-in-law is a doctor so after several minutes of wondering to myself did I or didn’t I, I pulled her aside and told her that I think my water broke. It was the day before my due date. Over the next two hours, we waited for contractions, for more amniotic fluid, or for any other labor signs. I remember thinking that the movies really made it seem more obvious and dramatic than this when you have your first baby.

I was in touch with my midwife, April, throughout the evening. I had two mildly uncomfortable contractions on the way home from dinner, but nothing else, so we were advised to get a good night sleep and meet at the hospital early the next morning. There, a test would be conducted to determine if the waters had broken.

Surprisingly, I slept great that night. I calmly showered the following morning, fed our cats, and we loaded our suitcase in the car. Because contractions still really hadn’t begun, I was hoping the staff at the hospital wouldn’t turn us away due to a false alarm.

At the hospital, I took a test that resembled a pregnancy test where I had to pee on a stick. April met us in triage and came back with positive results from the test. The good news was: my water had broken and we were gonna have a baby! but labor had not begun so we had to use a artificial oxytocin to induce labor and contractions, get a 10 cm dilation, and birth the baby.

As much as I was a little disappointed my birth plan already was going down the drain, I was excited that today would be the day. We were leaving the hospital with the baby.

The mind of a new mother is quite foggy, so here are the highlights from the day, presented very likely out of order.

1. Labor felt like a combination of severe menstrual cramps and the sensation I believe a vegetarian would have if they ate at Fogo de Chao for the very first time.

2. My birthing team was my husband Jake and my friend Kirsten, who was an off duty Certified Nurse Midwife at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. My mother also visited the hospital, but she stayed for only about an hour in order to set up a crystal grid on my bedside table, and give me words of encouragement and support.

3. I threw up 3 times during labor and delivery from pain. Jake said it was much more than 3 times.

4. My pain relief techniques included a hot shower, a hot bath, distraction via Fixer Upper on the laptop, bouncing on a exercise ball, rocking in a rocking chair, and humor. During a contraction, I would ask Jake or Kirsten for a joke, knowing that the serotonin from laughing would help offset the cortisol from the stress.

5. My labor kept starting and stopping. April asked late in the afternoon if I wanted her to strip the membranes, which should help move labor along. I said yes, and that procedure was probably the most painful part of the labor thus far. After they were stripped, labor contractions came on full tilt and hit me, wave after wave. I felt like I only just come up, gasping for air, when another one would come on and the undertow of pain would take me under again.

6. I sat in the shower amongst strong contractions, Jake shirtless and sitting on the edge by my side. I had some flameless candles in there to keep a calm energy flowing. If the circumstances were different, it’d be pretty romantic. And in a way, it was, but not in a sexual way. I sat on a chair in there, naked with my swollen belly, tears turning into water by the time they hit the drain. I would squeeze Jakes hand tight when a contraction would come and I go, vulnerable in front of him, willing this baby to come soon but also asking myself to be patient and trust the process no matter how painful. I was in so much pain, and remembered the dumb quote in the movie Major Pain “you want me to take your mind off that pain?” It was so dumb yet funny, and at this point I was becoming slap happy, so I tried my best to tell Jake the plot of the movie. I probably looked nuts while I cried and laughed sitting in the shower.

7. I sat on the edge of the bed, writhing and trying to get away from the pain when they came only 60 seconds apart. Jake was on his knees in front of me so I could lean against him. He kissed my neck and told me to breathe. Kirsten sat behind me on the bed giving my lower back counter pressure.

It was as I labored in the tub, with Kirsten pouring warm water over my belly and April coaching my breathing, that I asked for the epidural. It had been 10 hours of laboring on pitocin, which apparently can be more painful than naturally occurring contractions. I felt like my body had been through battle, and I needed reinforcements so I could keep going.

My body was shaking and I was in tears when I asked Jake what I should. He knew I wanted to attempt a drug free birth, but he knew that my body was slowing down after the beating it had taken all day. He told me to make it through one more contraction, and then decided. I did, it came and went, and I yes, yes, a thousand times yes… I need help. April suggested another pelvic exam to see how far I was dilated if that would help cement my decision. The exam, more painful each time it was conducted, revealed that I was only 4.5 cm dilated, a whopping 1 centimeter more than I was at the beginning of the day. I felt so defeated that we had only made it that far.

I sat shaking on the bed as the needle was administered into my spine. Staying as still as possible while receiving the epidural may have been the hardest thing asked of me yet. Everyone but Jake, one nurse and the anthestisiologist left the room to reduce risk of exposure to infection. Jake couldn’t hold my hand, only the experienced nurse could. I was introduced to her only moments before I clung to her for dear life. The doctor was calm and collected; a woman crying and exhausted from pain did not phase him due to his profession.

Within a few minutes after he left, my body started to relax. The shakes subsided as well as the pain. I felt like the edge was taken off and my body could finally get some rest. And rest, we did. The staff dimmed the lights and Jake, Kirsten and I all took a nap. When April came back in an hour and a half later, she conducted another exam to check my dilation. It was 10 centimeters. Everyone was shocked, especially April. The rest and pain relief were what my body needed to become ready to push the baby out, and I was so glad I opted for the epidural, birth plan be damned.

As the medical team prepared for the pushing stage, so did we. It was 10:30 pm and we were all in high spirits as I asked Kirsten to braid my hair to get it out of my way. We were having a baby! But the hard part was only just beginning.

In labor, you are supposed to breathe during the contractions. In delivery, you are supposed to hold your breath as you bear down and push. There was a learning curve in regards to learning how to control my breath yet push with all of my might, and just when I finally gotthe hang of it, all the tension I put in my chest and lungs built up into terrible reflux- like burning, resulting in vomiting about an hour into pushing.

They say you use every muscle in your body to push the baby out, including your eye lids. This is fact.

Time began to lose all meaning and get fuzzy during the 5 hours I pushed. After getting sick once again, I developed a terrible, excruciating headache. It was 2am and I needed a break. Everyone in the room became frustrated at one point or another, whether at me or the situation, I’m not sure, but no one would dare tell me. I was frustrated myself. I sat on the bed with my eyes closed and I think I even fell asleep for a few seconds while everyone took a break of their own.

I vacillated between asking my baby girl to please come out – come on sweet baby, we’re all waiting for you – to  down right demanding for her to vacate my uterus – child, don’t make me come in there and get you!

After more pushing without success, April came to my head and told me that she was starting to get uncomfortable with how long this was taking. She was a patient person who never rushed me, so when she said this, I knew it must be serious and that the baby was starting to show signs of distress. Her heart rate was high and I had developed a fever and was put on oxygen. I was so tired, hadn’t eaten for 12 hours, and for the first time in this whole ordeal, I became scared. I told April that I consented to anything that would help get the baby out. She calmly but quickly left to get the doctor who would perform a vacuum. Jake and I knew that we were now headed towards a c-section. At this point, I didn’t care how she left my body, I just wanted my baby and for her to be okay.

While April was gone, I watched the monitor and saw contractions come and go without doing anything but laying there. For the millionth time that day, I cried. I thought the baby was in danger and I couldn’t do anything to help her. I was trying my best and even asked April if I was pushing correctly, to which she told me that I was.

When April returned with the doctor and a new O.R. nurse, the 15 minute break from pushing proved to give my body a renewed strength. The doctor waited to see me push before jumping into action. I pushed with all my might, and we finally turned a corner. Everyone in the room audibly gasped their excitement: they could now see the baby’s head.

“You don’t need me. You’re going to push this baby out.”

The doctors presence was the motivation I needed to make progress in pushing. It still took another hour, and another visit from the doctor, to fully push her out.

When the baby’s head was breaching, Jake told me that there was so much hair. I wanted to see! The nurse rolled in a large mirror and I could see the hair as well as how effectively I was pushing. It was one more hit of motivation I needed.

The biggest thing I remembered that helped me was a particular nurse. She was young and of mixed race. She appeared out of nowhere, and it was only later that I learned she was the nurse that accompanied the doctor in case I needed a vacuum or c-section. I focused in on her, especially because she was quiet until I pushed some really hard pushes and made another leap. At the time, she felt like a good gauge to measure my progress.

Finally, after several more encouragements involving “yes, that’s the one!”, I felt a gush of fluid.

“The head is out!” 

“Okay, that’s the biggest part of the baby,” I told myself. I knew I just had to push once more to get her shoulders out and then the rest of her body would slide out with considerable ease.

And true enough, I pushed one last time, and at 4:22 am, Jocelyn Luna was born. It was finally over.

The labor had lasted about 15 hours and the pushing went on for 5 hours. Joss was quickly placed on my belly and was toweled off and was encouraged to cough or cry to get her lungs to open. I don’t remember crying happy tears or saying anything, but all I wanted to know was if she was okay, and she was.

Her eyes were big and open almost immediately. Jake stood over my shoulder, kissing my head and laugh-cried as he welcome our baby. Joss used all of her tiny little strength to lookat him as she laid on my chest. I found her tiny hand with my finger, placed it in her palm, and she closed her hand around my finger.

I heard April ask Jake if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord before they took her to the nearby warmer to check her vitals and towel her off some more.

Much later that morning, we were settled into our new post-delivery recovery room. Jake was in the shower and it was my first time alone with Jocelyn. Phone calls had been made and photos were snapped. Family would be arriving soon.

I hugged her tightly and simply stared at her.

So this is you, huh? You’re my baby I asked aloud.

I had gotten to know the little baby that grew inside of my belly for the past 9 months, but now I could finally see what she looked like. I already knew that she had a funny sense of humor and kicked me in the ribs when I started talking about her. But now I knew that she had dark hair in the shape of a perfectly coiffed pixie cut, her skin was bright pink, flowing with new blood, her eyes were blue and her face looked exhausted, eyebrows furrowed at me. It took us both a lot of energy to get here. She looked at me, looked away and then darted her eyes back to mine, staring sleepily at me.

I think I could see her beautiful deep blue, piercing eyes say to me:

So this is you, huh? You’re my mom

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Click HERE to learn more about the Community Birth Stories Project or to submit your own birth story