Why I Put On Red Lipstick to Deliver My Baby

I anticipated a long night of contractions and the arrival of my daughter the next day—but as it goes for many, many women, labor wasn’t anything like the quick scenes in movies. From that first contraction to my daughter’s first cry, I went through 52 hours of labor. Yes, 52 hours. 

Through this, I only managed a few hours of sleep, often interrupted as the contractions came and went in duration and intensity. By Monday morning, my contractions still didn’t meet the 5-1-1 rule (five minutes apart, lasting one minute, for an hour). They were unpredictable, growing more painful yet spaced irregularly—sometimes four minutes, other times 15. To say I was feeling defeated and exhausted is an understatement.

On Monday morning, we called my doctor, who suggested we come in. Disappointingly, I was only 2 cm dilated—far from the 10 cm needed for delivery. They prescribed something to help me rest, but sleep didn’t come easily, and contractions soon picked up. Exhausted and in pain, my husband and I agreed to try induction if necessary, knowing I needed the relief to keep going. Once at the hospital, I quickly opted for an epidural, which finally allowed me to nap, thanks to the support of my doula, nurse and husband.

A few hours later, with a little help from pitocin, the medical team broke my water and I was ready to push. It was 3 a.m.., and I found myself in a dim room, surrounded by new faces, about to experience one of the most life-changing moments of my life. My husband, just as nervous in his new role, gently encouraged me. 

Yet it was my doula, Evan, who sensed exactly what I needed. Her experience and calming energy had grounded me throughout my pregnancy, and I was beyond grateful she was there as my daughter arrived.

As I prepared to push, Evan surprised me by asking, “Do you want your lipstick?” She handed me my makeup bag, and I found my favorite crimson shade. Looking into a small mirror, I barely recognized myself—puffy eyes, dark circles, and a look of sheer exhaustion. But as I applied that bold color, I felt an empowering reconnection to myself. In that moment, I reminded myself who I was beneath the birthing gown, IVs, anxiety and weariness.

“I’m a 33-year-old woman. I started a business, traveled to more than 40 countries, and have chased my dreams. I’ve grown a baby from scratch. I’m strong. I can do this.”

That small act didn’t change the process—I still pushed for an hour, endured minor tearing, and relied on the doctors and nurses for a safe delivery. But the lipstick gave me a sense of self as I embarked on motherhood. When my daughter was placed in my arms, she bore a tiny kiss print—a mark of that empowering moment.

This experience taught me a lasting lesson on my motherhood journey, one I hope to share with my daughter: no matter the responsibilities I take on, I’ll face them as myself, in my own way. And I hope she’ll do the same. 

It’s been 2.5 years since my daughter was born—and I’m preparing to deliver her sister in a few weeks. You better believe I’m packing my red lipstick in the hospital bag, and again, Evan will be there to remind me to reapply. While I’m banking on a shorter delivery (cross your fingers for me!)—I feel more prepared than ever to become a mom for the second time. And my second girl will have a kiss print too—in one of these shades of my favorite lipsticks: