The Birth Plan I Didn’t Choose, and the Strength I Never Knew I Had

I Had a Birth Plan or so I Thought

I had a birth plan. A beautiful one.

One that included water, warmth, my mother by my side, and the calm rhythm of labor unfolding the way I envisioned.

But that’s not how my son came into this world.

My birth story is layered with surrender. I had to give up so much—my water birth, my mother’s presence (due to COVID protocols), even the freedom to walk during labor.

I wasn’t allowed to move, to freely shift positions, to listen to my body.

I stared at the birthing tub across the room the entire time I was in labor, knowing I wouldn’t be allowed in it.

I was forced to labor in the bed, hooked up to monitors, denied the autonomy I’d prepared for.

Had it not been for my doula, Andrea, advocating for me to just walk to the bathroom, I’m not sure I would have gotten up at all during the 13 hours I labored at the hospital.

Toward the end of my labor, they placed an internal monitor—screwed into my son’s scalp.

I felt betrayed by a system that promised support but instead delivered fear and control.

And yet…In the early morning hours, after pushing for less than 30 minutes, I met my angel—Ayden Andrew. Born naturally, unmedicated, and into love.

Ayden in the hospital, one of his first pictures post birth

Mi'Lisa holding her son for the first time right after giving birth!

Ayden's tiny little foot

At 2:37 a.m., a new soul entered the world… and a new version of me was born too.

But as I celebrated life, my son's and mine, I had to mourn the birth I didn’t get to have. It took time to accept the experience I endured instead of the one I planned for.

Motherhood didn’t come wrapped in a bow. I wasn’t married. By choice, I was no longer with Ayden’s father. I lost my main client at the start of my "maternity leave". And to top it off I had no systems in place for my business to continue without me during this sacred transition. I gave birth on a Monday and was back to work five days later.

It’s been a journey of stretching, unlearning, self-discovery, grief, healing, and immense joy! There were moments I felt so depleted, running on fumes and tears. I know the only way I made through those moments was because God was carrying me.

The Truth No One Told Me

The truth?

I knew I loved my son, but it took time to fall in love with him.

He was a stranger, one I had to get to know—just like he had to get to know me.

Mi'Lisa Idora holding Ayden at home wrapped in the blanket his great grandmother knitted.

Ayden's first snow day at a week old

Ayden and Mi'Lisa Idora for his one month mini photoshoot in the living room.

If you're reading this and you don’t feel madly in love with your newborn on day one, you are not broken. 

You are adjusting.

You are transforming.

My Journey Into Birth Work

For years, I felt called to birth work. Even before I gave birth, I knew this path would someday be mine.

This year, I get to honor Black Maternal Health Week not just as a mother, but as a doula in training with BADT. I’m stepping into the sacred circle of birth work—as a witness, a guide, and a soft place for Black mothers to land.

I’m committed to helping us feel heard, held, and honored. Always.

I’ve always been drawn to birth. As a little girl, I was obsessed with watching A Birth Story on TLC. I was completely captivated by the moment a woman brought life into the world. I didn’t know it then, but I was witnessing sacred transitions. I was drawn to the power, the intensity, the softness.

Even back then, becoming a mother was always my heart’s desire. My nickname in 8th grade was Mama Lisa because I was always looking out for and nurturing my classmates and friends.

I just never imagined motherhood would happen the way it did for me.

But now, I know it happened for me—not to me. It gave me a story, a strength, and a sensitivity that can’t be taught.

So today, I get to honor Black Maternal Health Week not only as a mother, but as a doula in training.I’m stepping into the sacred circle of birth work—this time, not just as the one giving birth, but as someone called to hold birth.

To be a soft place.

To be a fierce advocate.

To be what I needed.

I’m following the call that was whispered to my spirit long ago.

And I’m so ready.