The Joy of an 80 Hour Labor

When was the last time you heard a first time mom talk about how wonderful her long labor was? Freja from Stockholm recently shared her beautiful birth story with me.

Sunday, December 29th is my last day at the gym before a two-month break. I make sure to enjoy every second. Arlo was due the next day, and I’m both grateful and proud that I’ve been able to train until the very end. On the same day as the due date, December 30th, we have a routine visit at the maternity clinic with Henriette. On our way there, at the Sankt Eriksplan subway station, I feel something that could be described as menstrual cramps. Everything looks good at the maternity clinic, and we are given information on how an induction would proceed if necessary. I’d prefer to wait for the labor to start on its own as long as Arlo is doing well. Later, Henriette tells me she had a feeling that labor would start that same evening. And it did.

We come home in the evening, and I sit down on the couch to watch TV. That’s when it begins, and from that moment on, I have at least one contraction every fifteen minutes. Andreas is running some errands, and when he gets home and I tell him that things have started, we feel a bit tense because we really want Arlo to be born in 2025, which is still about 30 hours away. Andreas helps me set up the TENS machine. It stays on the entire time, and when the contractions come, I turn on boost mode. Since I know that oxytocin contributes to labor, I do everything I can to reduce the levels in order to extend the process. Andreas turns on all the lights to an uncomfortably bright level, and I watch a scary thriller, haha.

I’ve mentally prepared myself a lot to relax during the pain, and my goal during labor is not to tense up or be afraid since it increases the pain and counteracts Arlo’s downward movement. It works well, but requires a lot of focus. I’m so excited that things have started, but I don’t feel that I can completely surrender just yet.

According to my Oura ring, I manage to get 5 hours of sleep that night, the minutes right before each contraction. The TENS machine is my lifeline, and I also listen to Labor Companion on repeat, a 30-minute sound loop that helps with relaxation and positive thinking. I hum "mmm" on each exhale and try to count to around 10 breaths per minute with each contraction, as I know that’s a slow enough pace to maintain calm and relaxed.

The next day, on New Year’s Eve, I spend a lot of time in my birth sling, a fabric that hangs over a closed door and allows the body to relax while staying upright and in motion. Thanks to Labor Companion, the TENS, and the birth sling, Andreas can focus on helping me eat and drink and filling up the bath. In the bath, the contractions slow down to about 2-3 per hour, which allows me to sleep a couple of hours in there. As evening approaches, we realize with relief that Arlo won’t arrive before the year ends. We’re so happy and decide to create a “real” New Year’s Eve. Andreas makes a luxurious main course with tenderloin. We dress up, I get in a dress between contractions, and somehow manage to make a bunch of chocolate fondants for dessert. I devour everything because I know I need all energy I can get.

I read many positive birth stories in the GentleBirth book - Your positive birth begins here of long births, and something told me that mine would take a few days too, which made me feel completely calm and prepared. Thanks to that, we only called the delivery ward once to let them know it had started, and we didn’t expect them to welcome us yet. It felt reassuring to be able to stay at home for as long as possible. Suddenly, mom and dad call, and since we’ve decided not to tell anyone (only two friends knew it had started and were great support over text), we try to make it sound like everything is normal. I just hope I won’t get a contraction in the middle of the call, which I manage to avoid. Afterwards, when we tell mom and dad, they say it was a good decision since they would have been frantic with worry throughout all of the days of labor. We didn’t want to worry our loved ones but also didn’t want to have to update everyone on how things were going.

After dinner, Andreas runs me another bath, and I’m served non-alcoholic sparkling wine, cheese doodles and live music from the living room where Andreas is playing guitar. I feel so happy, excited and ready. Fully present and relaxed, I welcome each contraction and that we will soon meet our Arlo. I had wished for snow to fall when Arlo was on his way. That same evening, the real winter arrives! A few minutes before midnight, Andreas helps me out of the bath and wraps me in a robe and jacket and go out to the balcony. We welcome the last contraction of 2024 three minutes before midnight, bent over the outdoor furniture, and then welcoming the new year in a magical minute of gratitude, snow, anticipation, joy, sparkling wine in our glasses, and a kiss from my love to the sound of fireworks. I couldn’t have wished for a better end to the year and a better start to the new one. The timing of Arlo’s arrival feels almost unreal.

Fireworks in Labor

Welcome baby Arlo!

In the early morning, my mucus plug comes out, which feels a little exciting, and during the day, I continue to work in my birth sling, rest in the bath, and Andreas serves me food and drinks. I keep Labor Companion on repeat, hour after hour. As evening approaches, I’m still in very good spirits. However, I start to feel that my body needs more sleep than the few hours I’ve scraped together over the past two nights. What’s strange, though, is that I feel really awake and strong. It’s rather the knowledge that I should rest. We call the delivery ward for advice and are relieved to hear that we can come in for a dose of sleep medicine and pain-relieving medication. Somehow, it feels a little sad to pause what’s started, but knowing that my body will get a chance to recover feels more important. That night, I sleep a few more hours and wake up to the contractions returning in the early morning. Andreas sleeps in the guest room since I want him to be as rested as possible for the day when Arlo plans to arrive. Suddenly, I feel a smaller amount of fluid and I’m pretty sure it’s the water breaking. I’m so happy and call the delivery ward. They tell me to take advantage of trying to sleep a few more hours since the medication is still relatively active, and that we should come in at 9 in the morning for a check. What we didn’t know was that we were not going to get back home until we’re a family of three a few days later! They confirm that some of the water has broke, but because it’s mixed with blood, they ask us to stay for monitoring. I feel completely safe and calm, knowing that if something goes wrong, we’ll be helped. Apparently, I’ve dilated to 1 cm. The strange thing is that I’m absolutely overjoyed since I’ve still been so prepared for this to take a long time. I think, “wow,” not “why hasn’t more happened after so many days?” It’s incredible how your mindset can make such a difference.

We’re moved to a delivery room, and I sit on a yoga ball. That’s when the contractions really start to pick up and become more frequent and intense. It requires full concentration, my whole body is working, and I’m swept up in every large wave. Andreas sits behind me, pressing on my hips during each contraction. I control the TENS machine and lean on a pillow on the bed to relax. I also force myself to eat some pasta with ricotta—it’s not easy to swallow, but I know I need all the energy I can get. When they check me around lunchtime, I’m 5 cm dilated! I’m so happy and sure that we’ll meet Arlo the same day. Now things are really happening! We’re told that the blood in the water isn’t a concern, but now we realize that we won’t be going home, so Andreas goes home to get the hospital bag and car seat for the taxi ride home. Since we live so close to the hospital, he also takes the opportunity to quickly clean up and prepare the house for Arlo’s arrival, since we left in such a rush.

I feel completely calm with the two midwives and ask them to fill the pool in the large bathroom to get some variety. It’s lovely to sink into the warm water, even though it’s a little hard at first to take off the TENS machine, which has been my trusted companion for so many hours. This time, I know that labor won’t stall even though I’m in the water. I’m constantly listening to Labor Companion with one earbud in, trying to change positions regularly. After a while, Andreas returns and sits with me by the bath, helping me. The midwives say they’ve rarely seen anyone so calm and relaxed during labor—“It looks like you’re at a spa,” they said, and wondered how I was managing. I took out the earbud so they could hear Labor Companion. They were so fascinated and I promised to send them the app name afterwards so they could recommend it to other birthing mothers.

After many hours in the bath, I get out for a check before I plan to switch stations. It’s now dark outside on this winter evening. I’m examined, and… nothing has happened after all these hours! I’m very surprised, and for the first time, I feel like I’m losing motivation. It’s an unpleasant feeling, and I’m a little scared of it, so I tell everyone in the room. After three days, I’m halfway, does that mean I have just as many hours left? And beyond that, I still have to push out my baby boy! How is my body supposed to handle another night without sleep? It doesn’t feel realistic. We discuss and decide that I’ll be given a labor-stimulating drip and an epidural and be examined again in three hours. I find my motivation again. Afterwards, I realize that I never asked for the epidural or even tried the laughing gas (which I was a bit curious about) – I felt so calm and focused throughout all of it. Andreas lies down to rest, and I play some indie rock by The War on Drugs and start working purposefully in my birth sling. It’s incredibly strange to see on the screen how the contractions come and go without feeling the pain. I’ve been working through pain for almost 80 hours, both mentally and physically, and in just 20 minutes I feel almost nothing. When I see the peaks and valleys on the screen, it reminds me of the running sessions from a year earlier when you’d see your heart rate on a big screen while running, to monitor when you were at max heart rate and when you needed to recover. I get motivated and work hard in different positions for three hours. 

When I’m examined, still nothing has happened! It’s now midnight, and I’m so disappointed. I reason with myself that I’ve truly done everything I can and feel strongly that it’s not fair to my body to continue like this. I send a thought of gratitude that it’s 2025 and not 1725 and say firmly to everyone in the room, “Now let’s bring him out with a C-section!”. I didn’t even consider that I might have been told ‘no’, and the midwives said they would talk to the doctor. After a while, he comes in with his white hair and wise eyes. He’s so empathetic and kind and sits down next to me with his calm, reassuring presence. He says he knows how long I’ve been working and then says something I’ll never forget, something that moves me to tears every time I tell this story: “Freja, if you were my daughter, I would say ‘Now, let’s take him out.’” I respond, “Great, because I’ve already decided that too.” It turned out that Arlo hadn’t really liked the drip. But everything was so wonderfully undramatic, and it really felt like I was the one deciding that we should do this. My motivation came back. It felt like I had already almost experienced a vaginal birth with all the work I had done, and I was so proud of myself. I was careful not to say to myself that I had given up. Now I would also experience a C-section, and suddenly it felt exciting. Soon we would meet Arlo within an hour! It suddenly hit me that it was January 3rd. The same day my cousin Tove was having her C-section! Tove is also exactly one year younger than me – we share the same birthday. It felt completely unreal and quite magical that our first children would arrive on the same day.

I received spinal anesthesia and felt my body disappear. I, who had been so completely present in my body for so many hours. I thought it must feel something like this when paralyzed, but I didn’t feel afraid or worried. I was moved from the cozy, softly lit room into an operating room with bright lights and 13 happy people in surgical caps. “Hello!” they said, with an infectious energy at one o'clock in the morning. “Hello!” we replied, and I immediately felt so calm and safe with this team. I thought, whatever happens, they will never let anything bad happen to us here. They worked quickly and efficiently, constantly telling me what was happening. “Freja, I’m inserting this needle here.” “Freja, do you feel this?” “Freja, we’re moving you to the operating table now.” I, in a combination of exhaustion, being wide awake, excited, relieved, and drugged, said on the operating table, “I feel so well taken care of!” because that’s exactly how I felt. They all laughed.

It all happens so fast. We choose music (The War on Drugs), the curtain goes up, and Andreas sits close by, holding my hand. I both feel and don’t feel how they take Arlo out. Then we hear his cry! The very second we hear it, I cry tears of happiness, overwhelmed by everything beautiful. My body is numb, but my heart isn’t. Arlo is on the outside, just on the other side of the curtain, taking his first breath a meter away from us, sharing the same air as his mom and dad. The most powerful moment I’ve ever experienced. Suddenly he’s lying on my chest, and within minutes we’re a family on a snowy Friday January morning at 1:44 AM.

We’re taken to our room and stay awake until the morning in this wonderful baby bubble everyone has talked about. It’s more amazing than I expected. There is no time in our little paradise, only Arlo. The days and nights blur together and go both quickly and slowly at the same time. My body feels bruised after the surgery, but in my mind, there’s only sunshine and love. I didn’t know that you could feel energized after an hour of sleep here and there, and that you could fall in love with someone so quickly and completely. Since I’m recovering from surgery, Andreas change all diapers and clothes. It’s frustrating not being able to help, but after a while, I realize that thanks to the surgery, Arlo and Andreas already have a very strong bond from the start, and I’m lucky enough to be able to breastfeed. The milk came in right away, and the doctor said it was probably thanks to the long labor that made both Arlo and I ready.

When we’re asked about how we experienced the birth, we feel without a doubt it was 10 out of 10. The birth took 80 hours. So it really is true that a long labor doesn’t have to result in a negative experience. On the contrary, it made my body, my mind, and my little Arlo ready for our new life.

On Sunday, we took a taxi home through the winter landscape. Arlo continues to sleep in his car seat for several hours after we’ve arrived, so we have time to unpack and prepare the home until he opens his big, beautiful blue eyes. Then we truly begin our new life as a family, and it’s completely magical, even better than we could have dreamed of.

Emotions: immense love, sleep deprivation, laughter, tears, pride, 💩, wonder, pee, and deep gratitude all in one messy pile.

Freja, Stockholm, 2025