It was near the middle of the night in a hotel room when I asked my sister-in-law this question. We were on a mini-vacation together, a mother’s day gift from our husbands. I was due with my second child in a few weeks and uncomfortably shifting my big belly over to my other side to look at her in the dark room.

My first son was born via planned c-section. He had been in a breech position for several weeks before we attempted an external cephalic version (ECV), which was just as horrible as it sounds (maybe I’ll write about it on another day). So while I had given birth before, this would be the first time that my body would experience labor.

“You’ll just know,” she said, in a matter of fact tone.

“What do you mean? Like, what will it feel like? How will I know?” I asked her.

“I don’t know, you just know. Your body will tell you what to do.”

I was concerned with this response. How could I possibly know something that I have never experienced? Would I turn into a wild animal, relying on ancient instincts? Would my body just take over and let my brain go for the ride? That didn’t sound super appealing.

I, like many people, do not appreciate times when I am not in control. I mean, I understand on some level that we may never actually be in control of anything (motherhood to my toddler proved that to me), but I like to have some delusion of control over my body. And if there is no control, then I would at least like to have some understanding of what to expect.

I, like many people again, turned to the internet. I tried to read childbirth stories (if you are at all squeamish, maybe don’t do this). I like information so I went all in. I was obsessed with understanding how my brain and body were going to work together doing something that felt so foreign to me.

As time grew closer to my due date, I googled every little change to my normal body.

“Really bad heartburn” – is this a sign? Not really.

“Sh*tting my brains out in the middle of the night” – is this a sign? Maybe.

“Slightly more intense Braxton Hicks” – is this a sign? Getting closer.

Everything (and truly I mean everything) was googleable (Is that a word? Wow, I think it is).

One evening, I felt more tired than usual and went to bed a little early. It was a beautiful summer night. I had all of the windows open. I put on a movie and lay in bed, cuddled with my human-sized body pillow. I shifted that enormous belly again and felt a tightening, only it was stronger than the practice contractions I had been experiencing.

OH! Is this it? I thought to myself.

Giddily, I pulled out my contraction counter app. I googled the contraction rule again to be sure I had it right. Contractions should come every 5 minutes, last for 1 minute, and be consistent for 1 hour: the 5-1-1 rule.

I dutifully recorded my contractions until I hit the magic 5-1-1.

This must be it! I cheered internally. I called my husband from the back patio and told him to get ready. I called my mom to come over to watch our son. I called the OB-GYN on duty at the hospital.

The contractions were like a tight pain that wrapped from the top of my belly and around into my back. They were manageable. I could walk and talk through them, but I thought, well maybe I’m just really good with pain!

“You sound okay,” the doc said to me over the phone, as if doubting I was really in labor. “Maybe wait another hour before you come in.”

Feeling a little disappointed, I hung up and told my expectant husband and mother that the doctor didn’t think I was ready. As a goal-oriented person, I was miffed that I didn’t get a gold star for achieving the 5-1-1 status.

After the prescribed hour, we went to the hospital. My contractions had become a little erratic, but more painful so I was hopeful my body was doing what it was supposed to be doing. I was given a private room to rest in (it was a slow night) and by 2am my contractions slowed to almost nothing and I was sent home.

I knew that it was irrational, but I was embarrassed for mis-reading my body’s signs. My sister-in-law had said to trust that my body would know, not my brain, right? And here I was, overthinking things. 

I was bummed that I wasn’t having an exciting labor and about to meet my baby. But I was also grateful that I had the ability to go home and rest. And, I was grateful that we were going home with a healthy heartbeat. Not everyone is so lucky. 

For the next 24 hours, I slowly labored. I put away my phone and gave it up. I would let my body do the magic that it was made to do. 

That day, the skies were blue and the humidity was low. My husband took me out for a light lunch. For some reason, I was craving general tso’s chicken, which was maybe not the best thing to eat during labor? It felt right in the moment and wasn’t I supposed to be trusting my body? So, I ate it.

Afterwards, we walked around the neighborhood, enjoying the time we had together. We didn’t talk much, but just basked in the moment of two people on the precipice of receiving another little human to love in our arms. Besides, my body wanted to walk. It wanted to move and chase after those contractions again. 

Now, I am sorry to share this part, but it was such a vivid part of my day. I had the worst diarrhea of my life in the community library. I definitely shouldn’t have had such a spicy and heavy meal. As I sat there in the public restroom stall, I heard an older woman next to me praising Jesus as she apparently had an epic bowel movement; one that required the assistance of the holy spirit to pass. I still think of her sometimes when I’m having a difficult moment in my own toilet. I digress.

We returned home and I continued my quiet laboring, now carefully choosing nutritious, easy foods for my stomach. I nested in my body pillow. I snuggled with my two-year-old. I played sudoku and listened to relaxing music. At night, I walked the halls of the house for a bit, craving the movement in the dark. I showered and rested and waited.

By mid-morning on the next beautiful June day, my contractions were consistently coming, harder and faster than the ones preceding them. This. Was. It. I cannot tell you how I knew, but I just felt it in my bones. It was time. I called the hospital again, received my green light, and off we went to bring a perfect baby girl into the world. 

If you are wondering, how will I know when I am in labor? The only response I can provide is exactly what one woman told me: You will just know. Trust your body to know when it is time.

This reflection was written by Ashleigh Riehl about the birth of her second child. It should not be taken as medical advice. If you think you are in active labor, call your doctor or head to the nearest emergency room.