The trend of having a birth partner during labor has become standard across much of the United States, with the expectation that expectant mothers will have at least one person—be it a partner, a doula, or another support figure—by their side. This shift recognizes that various methods of labor exist, and many mothers find solace in having someone there to advocate for their wishes with medical staff.
However, I chose a more traditional approach. In the past, fathers often waited anxiously in waiting rooms, and my own mother had never even heard of doulas until she was already a grandmother. When the time came for my second delivery, I made the decision to go it alone, leaving my partner and our young child at home.
My choice was heavily influenced by the onset of preterm labor. It all began after a sweltering July swim at 33 weeks pregnant. After showering, I squeezed into one of the few remaining pieces of clothing that fit—a loose pink maternity nightgown. At my last prenatal appointment, I learned my baby was in a breech position, so I attempted a few summersaults in the pool hoping for a turn. Exhaustion set in, and I had no intention of going out again that day.
Then the cramps began. Knowing that dehydration could be a trigger for contractions, I drank water and rested. Eventually, I had to dress myself as the cramps escalated into regular contractions, and a trip to the labor and delivery unit became necessary. With no family nearby and having not yet arranged for emergency childcare, I reassured my husband that the doctors would likely stop the contractions, and I would be home soon for bed rest. Deep down, I knew this wasn’t likely.
Given that our first child arrived at 32 weeks due to a partial placental abruption, I felt history might be repeating itself, despite the precautions I was taking with a high-risk OB and synthetic progesterone injections. A few weeks earlier, I had confided in my mother about my intentions to labor alone, and she had responded with concern.
After helping my toddler choose a bedtime story for Dad, I slipped out of the house and took a car service to the hospital. Upon admission, the contractions intensified, and an ultrasound confirmed that the baby was still in a breech position. Moments later, my water broke—signaling that I would not be going home that night. The pain was overwhelming, and I found myself screaming as I writhed in bed. The surgeon later explained that such intense labor often accompanies a complete placental abruption.
As I was rushed to the operating room, I was signing consent forms while in agony. When asked if I had contacted my emergency contact, I responded with a quick “no.” I didn’t want to alarm my husband with my distressing state over the phone. Thankfully, the surgical team had a clipboard holder who offered to call him for me. “Your wife is having an emergency C-section,” he relayed, mentioning that I would call when it was over. My husband was left in a state of confusion, unsure of what to make of the sudden news.
Around midnight, my husband was wide awake, grappling with worry. He tried Googling “emergency C-section,” but wisely decided to close his laptop and tackle laundry instead—a productive distraction that helped him cope. Having been present for our first preterm delivery, he understood that there was little we could control in a hospital setting. Ultimately, he respected my decision to proceed without an additional support person.
The surgeon assured me that the baby would be delivered within ten minutes, and she was true to her word. I heard my son’s first cries and caught a fleeting glimpse of his face before he was whisked away to the NICU. As I lay on the operating table for the next hour and a half, I felt an unexpected calm wash over me.
During my first labor, my husband had put on a brave face, but the chaos of the experience had clearly worn him out. I often found myself worrying about him, just as I always fret about our older child. This time, with both of them safely at home, I was able to concentrate fully on my own experience—an opportunity that felt liberating.
Being an introvert, I thrive in solitude and often need time alone to process significant events. Following my surgery, I enjoyed periods of quiet as I stabilized and was eventually moved to the maternity ward. I communicated with my husband over the phone and requested updates about our newborn’s health. Without a support person by my side, I felt I had more space to absorb everything that was happening.
While going solo may not be the best option for every mother, it’s essential to remember that you don’t always need a partner present. Depending on your personality, family dynamics, and the specifics of your labor, it can be perfectly acceptable to rely solely on medical staff or a midwife.
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In summary, my experience with a solo C-section taught me that there is no one-size-fits-all approach to childbirth. Embracing solitude allowed me to navigate my labor with clarity, and while it may not be the right choice for everyone, it affirmed that the journey into motherhood can be uniquely tailored to fit individual needs.