The Birth of Ayanna Rae 2.26.2025

Love, Strength, and Serendipity

Some dates in life hold a special kind of magic. For Ian and me, February 26th was one of those dates—a day that already carried the weight of thirteen beautiful years together. And when we found out we were expecting, with a due date of February 21st, I couldn’t help but hope that our little one would arrive just a little late. How incredible would it be if our baby was born on the very anniversary of the day our journey together began?

Life has a way of bringing things full circle. We had discovered I was pregnant on our eighth wedding anniversary 6/18/24 —a moment that felt like fate. And now, as we neared the arrival of our daughter, it seemed like the universe just might align things perfectly once again.

A Surprise Change of Plans

On February 25th, just a few days past my due date, I had a routine fetal monitoring appointment scheduled for 3:15 PM. Everything felt normal, and I was excited to catch a glimpse of our baby girl through the ultrasound. She looked just like her daddy.

But at 4:15 PM, my doctor walked into the room, her expression warm yet serious.

“Are you ready to have a baby?” she asked.

My heart skipped a beat. “Yes… but what’s wrong?”

She explained that Ayanna’s heart rate had been dipping, and while they weren’t in immediate alarm, they wanted to admit me right away to keep an eye on things.

“Can I go home first? Take a shower? Get my husband?” I asked, feeling a sudden rush of nerves.

She agreed but asked me to return within the hour—by 5:30 PM if possible.

Getting Ready

As soon as I got in the car, I called Ian. “Get ready! It’s happening!” I told him, excitement and adrenaline surging through me. But of course, being me, I couldn’t just rush out the door.

I made it home by 5:10 PM, quickly showered, and in a flurry of last-minute nesting instincts, I changed the bedsheets, refreshed the couch cover, switched out the curtains, and washed all the cat blankets. I wanted everything to be perfect when we brought our baby home.

Ian, meanwhile, had run out to gas up the car—and returned with banana fosters. (Because priorities.)

By 6:00 PM, we were on our way to the hospital, hearts pounding with anticipation.

Checking In & the First Signs of Labor

We arrived at the hospital at 6:20 PM, and from the moment they hooked me up to continuous monitoring, I was shocked to see that I was already having contractions—four within ten minutes! I had mistaken them for baby movements, but things were clearly progressing.

A cervical check revealed I was:

• 1 cm dilated

• 50% effaced

• Fetal station: -2

With a Bishop score of 3, they decided to induce me with Cervidil at 10:30 PM, which would help soften my cervix overnight. I was allowed to eat (thank God), and the plan was to check my progress in 12 hours.

But my body had other plans.

By 2:30 AM, a check revealed I was already at 3 cm dilated.

By 4:30 AM, I was at 4 cm—and it was time for pain management.

Riding the Waves of Labor

I opted for Tylenol and Benadryl to help me relax, and Ian massaged my back through the contractions. But as they intensified, I decided at 4:30 AM to go for morphine—a decision that gave me brief relief. I focused on breathing through the contractions, using a mantra:

Inhale. Exhale. “Relaaaaax.”

(Did I love saying that? No. But it worked.)

It was about this time I had Ian contact my Doula and ask her to come as things were progressing. She arrived around 5:30 AM.

By 5:30 AM, I had reached 5 cm, 80% effacement, and fetal station -1. And at this point, I knew I wanted an epidural. The pain wasn’t unbearable, but the contractions were so close together that I felt like I was dissociating—I wanted to be fully present for Yani’s birth.

The epidural placement took some time (since I was contracting so frequently), but the doctor did an amazing job, and once it kicked in, I finally felt some relief.

At 6:20 AM, they removed the Cervidil and did scalp stimulation on Ayanna’s head.

The Final Stretch

• 7:37 AM: I was at 7 cm, 80% effaced, and at station 0.

• Suddenly, my water broke!

A small part of the sac remained intact, likely blocked by Yani’s head, so the doctors had to break a small water bag in the front to clear it completely.

Around 7:45/8 AM - Lindsey our Doula ran out to grab us a cooler in case I could keep my placenta. I am so grateful she was there to help us with that, as I wasn’t sure how fast things would progress.

• 10:01 AM: I was fully dilated (10 cm), 100% effaced, and at station +3.

• It was time to push.

Bringing Yani Into the World

At 10:11 AM, the pushing began.

Because of the epidural, I couldn’t quite feel when to push, so the nurses had to guide me. Ian held my right leg, a nurse had my left, and with each contraction, I gave it everything I had.

But there were moments of fear. The monitor would suddenly lose Yani’s heartbeat between contractions, and even though they reassured me it was just a positional issue, it was still concerning - especially having to wait for a contraction to push.

I pushed for 37 minutes.

And then—at 10:48 AM on February 26th, 2025—our daughter, Ayanna (“Yani”), came into the world.

She weighed 8 lbs 6 oz, measuring 20 ¾ inches long, and she was perfect.

The Golden Hour & Recovery

As they placed her on my chest, the world around me blurred into the background. Ian cut the cord, and we soaked in our first moments as a family of three.

I had a small first-degree tear and a minor labial tear, but nothing severe. The doctors repaired everything while I held our sweet girl close, and we embraced our golden hour of skin-to-skin bonding.

I kept my placenta (because why not?).

That afternoon, my parents came to meet their granddaughter, and two days later, Nichelle visited as well.

Our New Life Together

Breastfeeding was a learning curve, but I loved looking into Yani’s eyes while feeding her, bonding in those quiet moments. I wasn’t producing much at first, and she side-eyed me as if to say, “Woman, where’s my milkies?”

So we supplemented. Fed is best.

By the time we left the hospital, she had dropped to 7 lbs 15.5 oz—but by March 13th, she had surpassed her birth weight at 8 lbs 10 oz!

A Month In – Finding Our Rhythm

By March 13th, we had begun settling into a routine. The nights were still long and exhausting, but Ian graciously took over the morning shift from 8 AM to 12 PM, giving me a chance to sleep after being up through the night. Bless him.

Now it’s March 26th, 2025, just before 4:30 AM, and I find myself reflecting on the incredible, hard, beautiful thing I did. In just a few hours, it will be one month since I gave birth to my sweet girl.

The depth of love I feel for her is overwhelming. I cry often—but now, they’re happy tears. Tears that come from loving her so deeply and wanting nothing but the best for her. Crying because of joy, because of gratitude, is such a precious feeling.

Ian has been nothing short of amazing—such a tender, devoted father. Watching him with our daughter melts me. I can’t wait to see how she continues to grow. She’s already his mini-me, and I’m obsessed. I hope she stays his little twin forever.

Through it all—the sleepless nights, the adjustments, the tidal wave of emotions—one truth remains:

Our perfect little girl is here.

And life will never be the same.

Reflection

Just over a year ago, my outlook on life was so different. I was broken, grieving the loss of relationships with people I loved deeply—people who chose to walk away because I chose a different path. The pain of estrangement was unbearable, and in a moment of desperation, I made a choice I nearly couldn’t come back from.

But today, with time, healing, and a lot of hard work to shift my mindset, I can say with everything in me:

I’m so glad I failed.

I’m so thankful I held on.

Because now, I get to hold this beautiful little being we created.

I get to live this life with Ian and our daughter.

I get to feel this love.

I feel whole.

To anyone who’s thinking about leaving a high-control religious group or cult and doesn’t know what’s on the other side—please hear me:

With time, things can get really, truly beautiful.

The people who are meant for you will stay. The ones who aren’t will fall away—and it will hurt, but it will also clear the path for something better.

Build your own collective.

Create your own family.

There is life, light, and love waiting for you outside.

And it can be so, so good.