One of the first lessons we learn as we cross the threshold into parenthood is how to live with uncertainty.

At first, it’s the question of whether you’re truly pregnant—because trusting a little over-the-counter stick that you peed on doesn’t bring quite the same sense of assurance as confirmation from an OB, midwife, or lab test. Perhaps the sweetest affirmation is hearing the heartbeat for the first time.

Then comes the wait through the first trimester, with its heightened awareness of miscarriage risk. There’s often a reluctance to let in joy and excitement because you don’t want to risk feeling a drastic emotional drop if anything terrible should happen.

As the gestational parent, you experience symptoms that range from mildly uncomfortable to, “I’ll do anything, anything, for this to stop.” Those symptoms can persist anywhere from a few weeks to the entirety of pregnancy.

For some, there’s also the anticipation of DNA testing results—wondering about genetic markers or learning the baby’s sex, if you choose.

Just as soon as one question is answered, another one always seems to surface. This ongoing cycle of wondering, waiting, and yes, worrying, is an initiation into parenthood—and a small preview of what’s to come once a child is earthside.

Over the past couple of years, and especially after finding out I was pregnant again, I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on my first pregnancy and the journey leading up to Marcela’s birth.

That reflection led me to a decision that feels deeply aligned with my hopes for bringing my son into the world: this time, I’m working with midwives and planning to give birth at our local birth center, outside of the hospital.

In making this decision, I considered many factors. I’ll write about in another post what all those considerations were. For now, I’ll share that one of my priorities this time around is to have a team I know well, with only familiar faces in the room supporting me through labor.

Now a story about my placentas:

Some of you know that during my pregnancy with Mars, I had a low-lying placenta, which meant many ultrasounds until almost the end, to determine if a C-section might be necessary.

If you’re unfamiliar, this condition means the placenta is partially or fully blocking the cervix, which can present risks (like hemorrhaging) during delivery. If the placenta doesn’t “move up” enough by the time baby is full-term, a C-section is required.

I had such clear visions of the kind of birth experience I wanted with Mars (low intervention, I pictured a water birth). When I learned that something that I had no control over—a low-lying placenta—could derail my plan, it was crushing. It was also so irritating that I would need to wait until my follow up scan to know more.

By the time most people go in for their follow-up scan, placentas that were positioned like mine typically move. But, of course, mine didn’t.

It was a drawn out wait and see situation and I drove myself a little crazy ruminating on something that was out of my hands. I didn’t want to let go of my birth plan.

Eventually, I realized I need to make peace with the idea of a C-section so that I could be okay with either outcome.

I spoke with mothers in my circle, listening to their experiences and the unique gifts they found in their own births, planned or otherwise. Slowly, my perspective softened, and a deep sense of calm began to settle in. I found comfort in the idea of a planned C-section and the ways it might become a beautiful, intentional birth experience.

And then, as if on cue with my acceptance, at week 37, my placenta moved, suddenly clearing the way for a vaginal birth.

Where a placenta implants in the uterus is supposedly unpredictable, so I figured my chances of having a low-lying placenta again were slim. That tracks, right?

Well, at my recent detailed anatomy scan, I learned that I have yet another low-lying placenta. Here I am, face-to-face with this uncertainty all over again.

I have dreams of a transcendent, healing, minimal intervention birth experience. I want to be at the birth center surrounded by my team. I can picture it happening. I’m hopeful that my placenta will move.

And I’m also holding space for the possibility that it may not.

I’m noticing I have far less anxiety than I did last time which I see as a clear testament of my growth.

Most importantly, the thing that keeps me grounded is that baby boy is doing great. He’s growing well, moving often, and reminding me that, whatever happens, all is well in this moment.

What about you? I’m sure you’ve faced a situation where you had to let go of control and accept an unpredictable outcome. How did you handle it? What did you learn?