My own surprise child was also my first-time pregnancy, so in addition to all the adoption-type answers I was trying to collect, one question I constantly asked every mother I knew was “What does labor feel like?”

I wanted to know how painful childbirth was going to be, and what type of pain to expect. If you’re a first time mother, I’m sure you want to know the same.

But no matter how many times I asked, no one ever seemed to be able to adequately express what giving birth feels like. And even though I write for a living, I’m not sure I have the words to describe it, either.

Back when I was doing the asking, the moms I queried all got a hazy, faraway look in their eyes, as if the memory was either distant, serious, or just plain indescribable.

I bet I have the same look when asked about my own labor. The experience just encompasses too many feelings, all rolled into one mysterious memory. When you complicate that with the painful memory of signing over your baby from your hospital bed, it’s an even harder topic to pin down.

My labor was fairly short—about six hours from the time my water broke. (The night before, the minor contractions started, and there was a moment of panic when my son got wrapped in the umbilical cord. The doctors thought I might have to have a C-section. But he righted himself, and I gave birth in the normal way.)

I remember the contractions feeling like waves of pain. I would sense one in the distance, coming at me, then rolling in. It was like an approaching storm, one that got stronger over time. I swore like a sailor, so much so that I felt I had to apologize to the sweet nurse after it was all over. Toward the end, in transition, I vomited, and I can remember thinking, why on earth does anyone do this? I will never have a child again.

All that changed with the final pushing, and evaporated instantly the moment my son arrived. You’ve probably heard that having just given birth will be the proudest moment of your life, and that is true. I felt such a surge of elation, and I could not stop grinning at the PERFECT new person I had just brought to life. I wanted to run, to shout, to leap around. I felt invincible, as if I could do anything. Climbing Everest would be a breeze. I made my family laugh by announcing that, contrary to my oaths never to get pregnant again, I would now give birth again in a heartbeat.

They say that nature wipes your mind clean of how much it hurts, so that you’re ready to go again. I think there’s something to that, because my memories of the joyful rush of childbirth are so much stronger than my memories of the pain.

The sheer intensity of it all is another reason I’d recommend you consider keeping your labor and delivery experience to yourself. It can be very awkward and difficult to share these private emotions with outsiders, and there is no pressing reason to do so. If, after careful thought, you still feel you need to give that experience to your child’s potential adoptive parents, then do so—but be sure you've tried to understand what you are giving up beforehand.