Van’s Home Birth Story

The Lord, in His ultimate goodness, took me on a journey through this pregnancy and birth that I did not expect. He had plans to teach me how to rest in Him through a rollercoaster of emotions. He asked me to trust Him. To surrender.

Let’s start from the beginning.

GETTING PREGNANT

For a long time, the thought of a second baby terrified me. There were times I thought we’d be “one and done” - times when I felt swallowed by the trauma of the postpartum depression I experienced with Andrie. Too terrified of spending one more second in that dark state. I suffered PPD once in her lifetime. I most certainly did not want to suffer it twice. It would be too unfair to her.

As time went on, I found myself in a fairly good place, and we were in a good rhythm as a family. I was over the hill and maybe even almost through the woods?! Then the announcements started popping up. Families with kids Andrie’s age, and even families with kids much younger than her. “Next babies” were announced and born when I couldn’t even entertain the idea. I began feeling behind. I felt triggered by phrases like “two under two!” - I had barely survived one. Would I be able to survive this again? The truth is, I was jealous. I was jealous of every mom who hadn’t experienced PPD - who didn’t fear another baby and another postpartum. I easily believed the lie that I was alone.

There was much healing to be done. As time went on, I felt ready to mother again, but not yet ready for another postpartum. We started serving with Families Together, caring for children whose parents needed short-term respite. We began pursuing our foster care license in January 2020. Soon, I also started feeling more ready to take on pregnancy and postpartum again. We hoped to foster a child, then have another biological child, and then possibly continue fostering. Long story short, after covid and other admin delays beyond our control, we found ourselves still waiting for our license to go active months after we hoped to have already welcomed a child into our home. We knew we didn’t want to foster and be pregnant at the same time, and we knew we didn’t want to hold off too much longer before trying to get pregnant. Because I was still nursing Andrie, I was also only ovulating about every 4 months, so our windows for trying were already limited. In January 2021, we decided to go for it. We trusted that if it was God’s will for us to have a baby at that time, it would happen, and if not, we would wait and see how soon our foster license would activate and go from there.

Out of nowhere, we got the email that our license was finally active, and days later I got a positive pregnancy test. We were SO excited to be pregnant! But, we knew from a prior respite experience that we wanted to keep the birth order when fostering. Therefore, we knew that because we were currently pregnant, it would probably be at least two years before we would be ready to open our home to a foster baby.

I was overjoyed to be carrying our baby. I had waited and prayed to feel ready for this, and I finally was, and it was happening! I fell in LOVE with birth when Andrie was born, and after photographing home births the previous year, I was elated to have our own. 

But, there was a certain tension. I couldn’t help but think about the little ones who might come into foster care over the following months. At times I felt like we were letting them down - that we were going back on our commitment. That was guilt I had to work through. And I came to trust that there was a reason God gave us pregnancy first, and that we would be able to open our home when He says it’s time.

IT’S A BOY

Fast forward to April. I had been having prenatals with my AMAZING midwife and she was helping me work through postpartum fears. I look back on how I first got connected with her - all the little things that had to happen - and know without a doubt that God gave her to me to counsel and encourage me throughout pregnancy. What I needed went far beyond prenatal care. I needed wisdom, comfort and truth. And she went above and beyond to hold space for my trauma, my fears, and my hopes.

We chose to have an anatomy scan at the end of April where we would also find out the gender of our baby. Andrie’s gender was a surprise and we LOVED the thrill of it, but we were curious to experience the “other side”. We were both hoping for another girl. We had a very meaningful girl name picked out, and we were (are!) obsessed with Andrie and would take a million more of her.

Our scan was on a cool, foggy Wednesday morning. Joe was going to work afterward, so we drove separately. I was SO nervous - I remember thinking, “Why do people do this?!” When it’s a surprise, you’re so distracted by labor you don’t have time for jitters over if it’s a boy or girl - but I definitely had them then at 20ish weeks! I was praying for a girl. And I was praying for peace if it wasn’t a girl. I put a worship playlist on random and “Great Is Thy Faithfulness” started playing. In that moment, on some level - a level I was still denying - I knew I was carrying a boy and that God wanted me to remember that He is faithful and in control. And I clearly heard God telling me that He isn’t going to give us a baby based on our preferences - He’s going to give us the baby who will make an impact for the gospel as He has planned. He was not just giving us a child to grow our family. He was building His Kingdom, and whoever He saw fit - a little boy or a little girl - is who He has planned to put on this earth since before the beginning of time.

Great is Thy faithfulness.

We had the ultrasound tech write the gender on a card and went out to the car to read it, just the two of us. I put my phone on the dash to record our reactions. In the video (which I kept but no one except Joe and I have seen), we were super nervous and I kept saying, “Oh my gosh, how do people do this?! Oh my gosh!” I finally opened the envelope. Joe’s jaw dropped and he looked at me, and my hand covered my mouth. He wasn't sure if I’d crack a smile of shock or shed a tear of disappointment. I took a second look at the card - I wanted to make sure I read it right - even though I know I did. I squeezed my eyes shut. I covered my entire face with my hands. I sobbed.

I knew I’d be a little disappointed. I didn’t know I’d be devastated.

And I was wrecked by the devastation I felt. Why? What was wrong with me? I’ve walked with friends through infertility and loss - they would give anything for a baby, no matter the gender. Seriously… what was wrong with me?!

I hated that Joe had to go to work and I had to spend the day with these emotions. Jesus would later reveal to me that I needed to believe that HE wants to sit with me in them. But for the time, I was overcome with sadness. And, for the second time in just 20 weeks of pregnancy, deep guilt.

I knew that I would come to be so grateful and joyful to have a son. (And I did!) But I didn’t know when that would be.

I talked with my midwife on the phone later that day, and I can recall plain as day her voice telling me something that has changed the way I’ve since seen so many events in my life. 

“Your body is remembering.” 
“Let it remember and go through this process.”

My mind wasn’t going back to PPD, but my body was. My mind was focused on now, but my body was remembering. It was remembering the unmet expectations, the unfairness, the disappointment, the endless questions, and the eternal tunnel of sadness. It was remembering and grieving all over again the loss of the person we would have named our daughter after - a daughter I was convinced I was carrying, who felt real to me, but doesn’t exist, and never did. A special name we wouldn’t use - at least for now. My body was remembering my male trauma that was subconsciously instilling fears about my ability to raise a boy and emotionally attach to him. My body was aching to nurture and nurse a baby girl without the darkness of depression - to get it right this time. I imagined looking down to see a little girl who looked like our sweet Andrie, but feel different than I did before. I was desperate for a redeeming experience.

I was eventually able to pinpoint some of the feelings that were causing such an intense response. They came from thoughts that I began having soon after Andrie was born, and to some extent, I was experiencing many of them again.

“I suddenly feel like I don’t know my baby.”

“I’m supposed to be happy and excited, but I’m caught off guard and struggling.”

“I don’t feel like I want this baby anymore.”

“I wish I could go back.”

“I’d be okay with dying.” (This wasn’t something I experienced at this time, but often did in the midst of PPD and I share it to bring awareness of what PPD can be like - it’s more than just baby blues. I wasn’t suicidal, but I felt like I was dying of sadness.)

This is the reality of postpartum depression and the trauma that follows it. It took me a long time - over a year - to be able to share those intrusive thoughts and more with Joe, let alone anyone else. I felt so devastatingly shameful. And I still have to fight to believe that those thoughts did not and do not reflect me as a mother - that it wasn’t myself talking, it was the depression. It’s hard to put those thoughts out there now. But I felt so utterly alone, drowning in shame. So appalled at my own ability to even be able to think those thoughts for a split second… surely I was the only one. No one else could stoop this low.

But I wasn’t alone. I’m not alone. And other mamas need to know that they aren’t alone, either.

There’s a term for this - “gender disappointment” - and it goes far beyond “I hoped for a girl but we got a boy.” Our experiences in life carry real weight - heavy weight - and we never know when our past hurts will surface or what will cause them to. The question is, what will we do with them when they surface?

God was faithful to bring me through postpartum depression, and I knew He would be faithful again. Like the dawn of a new day - albeit a partly cloudy day with a strong chance of thunderstorms - I felt the Lord inviting me into deeper healing. He wasn’t just sprinkling pain from the sky. He wanted to take me on a journey to freedom. In the thick of it, I wrote, “He is good to allow this to happen so I can heal more deeply than I knew I needed and therefore grow more and experience Him more. How good is God to say, “Jamie, I want MORE for you - more healing, deeper restoration, and in the end, a greater trust in Me and relationship with Me.” So even though the disappointment hurts so much and it feels like walking through fire, He is so kind to me to take me through this so I can more fully experience life with Him.”

Over the summer I read the book Gentle & Lowly with a group of women and it helped me see Jesus in a new light. I was able to believe that He wasn’t disappointed in me for being so devastated about having a boy, but He knew my hurt and trauma that led to those feelings because He had been with me through it all.

In time, I no longer felt the cloud of gender disappointment hanging low over me, but I didn’t exactly feel excitement for a boy, either. We had picked the name Van before we even became pregnant, and calling him by his name helped everything feel more “real”. I was so thankful for God giving us the itch to find out the gender so that I could process and heal during pregnancy, not postpartum. That is one of God’s biggest graces on this whole journey. I came to a place of viewing our family with a daughter and a son and soon couldn’t imagine it being two daughters like I once had. Still, I had no expectations and put no pressure on myself to feel the “right” things when he was born. With Andrie, I had experienced God bring me from a place of “I’d give my life for you - but do I feel love for you?” to an immense, deep, overwhelming love and affection for our precious girl. So I knew that regardless of what I felt or didn’t feel at Van’s birth, my love and affection would grow.

For most of my pregnancy, I was able to tune out the fears that tried to creep into my mind about postpartum. When Andrie was still a baby, I felt God tell me that it would be different next time, and I held onto that with confidence. But I’m still human, prone to fear and anxiety. Toward the end of pregnancy, I became increasingly fearful of what might be just around the corner. I wouldn’t wish postpartum depression on my worst enemy. Would I be walking through it again?

I desperately needed the Prince of Peace to rule over my thoughts. I played the song “King of My Heart” on repeat. And I cried. I cried over my last postpartum. I cried over the fears of my next postpartum. But mostly, I cried because I knew my deep, deep need for Jesus and I knew that His grace ran deeper still and that He would not forsake me. I cried because I was comforted.

Let the King of my heart 

Be the mountain where I run

The fountain I drink from

Oh, He is my song

Let the King of my heart

Be the shadow where I hide

The ransom for my life

Oh, He is my song

VAN’S BIRTH

April 13th, 2018, I was 39 weeks and 3 days. Joe did yard work that afternoon while I bounced on an exercise ball in the driveway, rubbed my belly and told our baby I was ready for him or her to come. I went into labor late that night, and we met our Andrie Jo in the morning.

September 27th, 2021, I was 40 weeks on the dot. For days I had said I wasn’t ready yet. I needed a little more time. But that afternoon, I finally felt ready. I told our son, “I’m ready. I welcome you.” And I was in labor a few hours later.

In Gentle Birth, Gentle Mothering, Dr. Sarah Buckley writes about the causes of the onset of labor, writing, “many factors are likely to be involved, including hormones and other information passing between mother and baby to ensure readiness of both partners.” 

From day one, a mama’s body works with her baby’s. No one stays pregnant forever. Every baby will be born. A mama and baby are so intricately interconnected and never beyond communication. My baby was ready before I was, but he waited for me. I love looking back on our connectedness before he was even born.

—

It was a Monday night. I’d had constant Braxton-Hicks that day, but that was nothing new. They weren’t painful and most definitely not “I’m in labor” level - they’d been happening for weeks. I told multiple people a few weeks prior that I felt like I was dilating. It’s normal and common to slowly dilate for quite some time before labor, but I was putting much effort into tuning into my body and baby. I knew I was dilating by 38 weeks without a single check because that’s what I felt my body doing. What would our bodies tell us if we had the mind to sit with them and listen?

We got Andrie to bed and I asked Joe, “Do you think we’ll have a baby tonight?” He laughed it off and said no. He was ready for Van to come long before I was and I think he was convinced he’d never come! But something in me told me I was close. Maybe hours. Maybe a few days. Close. 

Very soon after that - maybe an hour? - I started becoming uncomfortable. Sitting didn’t feel good, laying down didn’t feel good. I stretched and rocked with the exercise ball in an attempt to get comfortable. I wasn’t having contractions, but was suspicious enough that I texted my doula and midwife to let them know I “wasn’t in labor, but feeling labory”. :) My mind needed to catch up, but my intuition told me it was happening because I gave Joe one last to-do list!

At 8:45 I started having some cramping in waves. At 8:57 I started timing. This labor was coming on very differently than the first time - with Andrie, the contractions wrapped around from back to front. These contractions were more of an odd discomfort in my back (baby was on my tailbone for quite some time) and came anywhere from 6-16 minutes apart.

At 10:05 I texted my midwife and doula to let them know I was having constant slight pressure in my lower back and then surges that are more intense in the back, and was feeling clammy/shaky. The contractions were becoming more intense but still far apart at times. They both suspected that baby was getting into position! I continued texting with Aly, my doula, and told her I felt similar to how I felt with Andrie during transition, but not as intense. It was interesting that the strong contractions were coming in waves, but I was feeling something constantly. 

By 10:45 I was having 1-2 minute long contractions in 3-18 minute intervals. Just like with Andrie, the contractions were not becoming longer/stronger/closer together. They were all over the place! Birth often does not happen by the book. Each individual birth happens how it needs to happen. I was a little nauseous at times and felt tons of pressure if I sat on the toilet. I was ready for my team to come over.

Aly arrived around 11:00. We chatted in between contractions. I honestly was having so much fun! I was so excited to be meeting our son soon and have this experience with my family with the support of women who are dear to me.

Soon after Aly’s arrival, my midwife called her to say another mom was in labor and she was going to go be with that mom and have her partner come straight to me. We’ll call her “midwife #2” for now. I truly felt no uneasiness about this whatsoever. During pregnancy I prayerfully considered who I should invite into my birth space and I had peace throughout my pregnancy that whoever was supposed to be at my birth would be there. I wasn’t sure why I kept having this thought, but looking back God was preparing me for birthing without my main midwife. More on this later! 

At 11:52 I texted Megan, my photographer, letting her know she could come. I was still chatting and obviously texting at that point. By the time she arrived at 12:17am, I was fully in the labor zone and wasn’t even aware when she walked in! Midwife #2 arrived around 12:38. I felt my next contraction more in the front - baby was finally making his way off of my tailbone!

I had my bloody show at 12:47. I then worked through a few contractions standing. Things were becoming more intense. I asked Joe to put my music on. I knew I probably wouldn’t know it was on most of the time - but I knew it would bring calmness and worship whenever I was able to listen and set the tone for the environment. I knelt on the floor with my arms stretched out over the bed, hands open, saying, “I surrender.” I was tempted to tense up but I knew I needed to remain relaxed and surrendered. I leaned into Joe. There is something about labor that brings deeper feelings of closeness and intimacy with him - he was such a safe and calming place for me. I rocked back and forth. I let my head fall back. I sat on the floor and then came up to my knees again. I did whatever my body led me to do - I listened to its wisdom. 

I asked for Andrie a little after 1:00. I didn’t know how quickly our baby would come, but I knew I wasn’t too far off and wanted to be super sure she was present. I also wanted allllll the oxytocin I could get and I knew having my sweet girl with me would give me a major boost of it!

I moved onto the bed where it was more comfortable for my knees. Andrie was the absolute sweetest. She would hold my hands, look into my eyes, and always kept a hand on me when she was near. We talked about birth a lot leading up to my labor and she was about as prepared as any three-year-old could be! She tuned into her surroundings and her own intuition and I’m so proud of her.

I was starting to feel tired. This labor was a lot more intense than Andrie’s and I experienced each wave in what felt like every part of me, and it was all back-to-back. I began praying, expressing to God what I needed.

“I need a break.”

I was longing to lay my head down without feeling anything, just for a moment.

“Lord, I need a break. I need a break.”

Then I realized I was asking for the wrong thing. I was in labor. My son was working to meet me, and I, him. I was in the thick of transition, and I was not going to get a break. So I started asking for rest. Because like many things in life, we don’t need a break in order to have rest. We can rest in the midst of chaos, we can rest in the midst of grief, we can rest in the midst of trials; because the Lord provides rest in Him, not in our circumstances.

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” Matthew 11:28-29

I came before the Lord, and I asked for rest. I knew that I was still going to be working through contractions, but I wasn’t wishing them away; I was just praying for the energy I needed and the calmness of the Spirit. I would ask, “Lord, give me rest,” and my midwife would echo, “Thank you for this rest.”

Lord, I need rest.

Thank you for this rest.

Lord, give me rest.

Thank you for this rest.

And He did give me rest. He gave me a few long pauses where I was able to just breathe. Aly later told me that during this time, “King of My Heart” came on and Andrie started singing along and everyone quietly hummed along. She said it was the most beautiful moment of Andrie leading everyone to worship. I was very much in the zone and unaware of this, but I watched it back in the video and it was one of the sweetest things to see.

Things picked up again, and the waves were strong. I continued to cry out to God.

“Lord take it.

Take it, Lord.”

It wasn’t that I was asking for Him to take away the sensation of labor, or for our baby to be born that second. It was more of a transferring of the weight of laboring with our baby out of my power and into the Lord’s. It was a release of energy. It was surrender. I wasn’t holding onto tension, I wasn’t holding onto fear, I wasn’t holding onto control or expectation. I was releasing it all into the will and care of the Father.

“Take it, Lord.”

Soon after this, shortly after 2:00am, I got off of the bed. Around 2:08 I experienced my first involuntary push. The gravity of my baby descending pulled me down and I stood with my knees bent, hanging from Joe with my arms wrapped around his neck. There was a constant intense pressure and waves of a fierce force that caused me to drop lower and lower with each one. I knew I’d meet my baby soon.

My body was gently pushing with each contraction and I didn’t fight it, nor did I try to make it happen. I trusted my body. I felt myself stretch and wondered if it was his head. At 2:32, I felt something release, but it felt too “easy” to be his head. My midwife said, “here’s your bag”. There was a mirror on the wall behind me, so as I literally hung from Joe, he was able to see what was going on. He said, “Woah, WOW!!” My midwife gently supported my little water balloon-shaped bag and said, “Such a strong bag, Jamie, wow!” and Joe chimed in, “Holy smokes!” (I cracked up hearing this on the video!) There was a splash, which was my forebag releasing along with some membranes. I said, “I’m so tired,” as I dropped my knees to the ground. Sweet Andrie said, “Where’s my baby?” “Soon, Andrie,” Joe responded. “My baby’s coming,” she said sweetly and confidently.

Joe remained standing and my arms were wrapped around his waist as I alternated between deep exhales and quick little breaths. “Great Is Thy Faithfulness” played in the background, which I didn’t realize at the time, but looking back on the video is sweet to hear as God had spoken to me through it 20 weeks earlier. I moved one hand to the ground, holding Joe’s with the other. “Lord, help me.” The intensity of birth had peaked. I would meet my baby soon. I moved my other hand to the ground. Instinctively I knew I needed to fully support my body on hands and knees. My breathing was slow and deep. My baby was well on his way; I did not need to rush him. I suddenly felt more “pushy” with each contraction and followed my body’s lead. I let out a few expletives. :) My midwife let me know that my bag cleared the way and it was baby’s head that I was feeling - back and forth, allowing me to slowly stretch, working his way toward crowning. At 2:40, I said, “He’s almost here.” One minute later, he crowned. He remained there until my next contraction at 2:42, when his head emerged a bit more. At 2:44, I quickly reached back to feel his sticky, squishy, warm little head. At 2:46, I sat up a bit and heard “Let the King of my heart be the mountain where I run” and I knew I would meet my baby in the next few minutes. I knew that was the Lord telling me I was almost there. And like a big hug, I knew that I was going to be okay. That He was about to give me a new postpartum. I had the peace that transcends all understanding. I had Jesus.

At 2:47am, he was born - the rest of his head, and his body, all at once. My hands supported him as he gently came to the ground, and I scooped him up to my tummy as I sat on the floor. Head, body, all warm and wet and perfect. Crying, I said, “My baby! My baby!” He let out a few little cries - but he was mostly quiet and calm. Warm and waited for. Welcomed in his own time. Joe, grinning ear to ear, said, “Good job, Mom!” I asked for Andrie, who was watching from the bed. I saw her and sobbed, “Our baby’s here, baby!” I locked eyes with Joe and cried and cried tears of joy and relief. “You made me work for it, buddy!” I held him close and Joe rubbed his little belly. “I knew when this song came on he was gonna be born.” Joyful sobs. “Thank you, Lord.” Euphoria. “Thank you, Jesus.” Eyes closed, soaking in the feeling of my baby’s skin on mine. “God, You are so good.”

I moved a little and told my midwife I felt a slight tugging of the cord. She told me it was kind of a short cord and helped me. I’m once again in awe at motherly instincts - I hadn’t pulled him to my chest when he was born. I pulled him to my tummy. I didn’t have to think about what to do in that moment - I was given the space to move how my body knew it needed to.

“What do you think, Andrie?” I asked, still crying. “He’s happy.” Yes, he was happy. We were all SO happy.

She sat with Joe next to me, holding her own little baby and gazed at her little brother intently. I said, “He’s so tiny! …But he’s also kinda big!” And everyone agreed he was nice and chubby.

Andrie reached over to put her little hand on his even littler hand, and soon noticed the cord, which she was very excited about and had been looking for - “I see the cord!”

I said that I couldn’t believe I actually went into labor on my due date - it’s really quite rare - and told my midwife through tears, “I told him I was ready today. I wasn’t ready before today. I told him I was ready today - I told him he was welcome. He was just waiting on me. I just had to be ready.” She said, “You were fully surrendered.” 

—

That was it. 

I was fully surrendered.

Through the timing of Van’s conception, through pregnancy, in labor and birth. The Lord brought me to a place of complete surrender. From the end of my own will and strength, to the infinity that is His. And it was more beautiful than I could have ever dreamed. It was a glimpse of heaven.

Joe helped me to the edge of the bed as my midwife held Van close to me. We sat together as a family and stared in awe at our precious boy. He looked around a bit, let out a few cries here and there. Sitting there with my family - I can feel that moment exactly how it was. It is ingrained into my memory forever. 

I started feeling mild contractions letting me know the placenta was releasing. At 3:16, my midwife cut the cord (Joe didn’t like the squishy feeling of it when he cut Andrie’s, hah!) and I handed Joe his son. I birthed the placenta with ease at 3:19. We then snuggled into bed and I nursed my sweet baby boy for the next 45 minutes, which only even felt like five.

Just before 4:00 - about an hour after Van was born - my original midwife who had been with the other mama arrived and I was overjoyed to see her! She examined my placenta, which was huge and perfect, and took our baby’s measurements. She put him in the sling to weigh him, and I waited for her to stop at “Eight…eight and a half…nine…” When she said ten, I think my eyeballs popped out of my head, and when she said ten AND A HALF, I was truly in shock!! At the same time, I was totally amazed that I truly had no idea he was THAT big. His birth was seamless. And I knew that I would become a “big baby” warrior, making sure mamas know that you CAN birth a big baby vaginally. You CAN birth a big baby unmedicated. And you CAN birth a big baby at home!

My midwife gently examined me and found my perineum intact! My biggest concern about this birth was re-tearing along the scar tissue that had given me lots of grief after Andrie was born, and I was so relieved that it was in perfect condition. I did have a labial tear on my left side, which was a result of Van being born with his left hand by his face. She told me that if it weren’t for that nuchal hand, I literally would not have torn at all! I was once again in awe of how our bodies are made to stretch and accommodate our babies. Tearing is common and natural - our bodies are made to tear and heal - and tearing is not even remotely a sign of failure. But it’s important to know that a big baby ≠ a bad tear, just like a small baby ≠ no tear.

—

To have Van’s birth be a “family affair” was so special for so many reasons. I vividly remember changing Andrie’s diaper when she was about a month old, and wondering if I loved her. I knew I would give my life for her…but did I feel love for her? But in the first moment I saw Van, I felt an intense love for him. And it was so beautiful and redeeming to have him at home, with Andrie being a part of the whole thing, because the love I have for her now overwhelms me. I felt God writing a new story. My first postpartum will always be clouded by PPD, but I would now experience a postpartum filled with joy and confidence and stability. And Andrie would get to experience me that way. She would get to see me hold a baby without tears falling uncontrollably. She would watch me as a woman who has found her place in motherhood. She won’t remember the state I was in when she was a baby, and I’m so thankful that those months have left no mark on our relationship, which is connected and strong and flourishing. But she will remember me mothering her baby brother. And I’m so grateful that it will be me that she remembers - not the PPD that once invaded me. 

God is writing a new story.

For all of us.

CHOOSING HOME BIRTH

I was intrigued by home birth even when I was pregnant with Andrie. In Nebraska, there is a lot of misinformation about the legality of home birth, and I was told by the doula who taught my birth class that it was illegal and she would lose her license for attending a home birth. Whether or not she knew it, this was completely false. Many people who believe it is “illegal” reference Nebraska Revised Statute 38-613 but may not realize that this law only mentions restrictions for one type of midwife - a Certified Nurse Midwife. A CNM is the only type of midwife recognized by the state. The term “unlicensed midwife” often gets thrown around when referring to home birth midwives, but it is important to note that unless you are a CNM, there is no license to get in Nebraska. There are zero laws restricting any midwife that is not a CNM, doulas, or anyone else from assisting a mother at home. Direct Entry Midwives/Certified Midwives/Certified Professional Midwives/Traditional Midwives, etc. are not restricted by law from attending home births, but sadly they are unfairly witch hunted and have to be very careful. Unless a mom knows someone who has had a home birth in NE, it is nearly impossible to know where to start in finding a midwife. 

So home birth was merely a passing thought during my pregnancy with Andrie. It wasn’t until I was 37 weeks that I met Aly and started to realize I had been misinformed. I was “prepared” for my hospital birth. I had (and still have) overall very positive feelings about Andrie’s birth, and I was insanely proud of myself for achieving my goal of having her naturally. But there was a lot that happened during the 15 minutes I was at the hospital before having her that took me about a year to come to terms with. There are risks to home birth. And there are risks to hospital birth. And I finally admitted to myself that Andrie’s birth was unfolding so peacefully until we got to the hospital. 

—

When I first met my midwife, circa 2019 maybe, I was definitely interested in home birth for whenever we would have another baby, but had a lot of questions about it. Was it actually safe? What made it safe? As I listened to her talk about situations that I had been fearful of with such ease, so much clicked for me… like how hemorrhaging rarely happens at home because it can be brought on by certain routine steps in hospital birth, for example. I was really realizing how safe home birth actually is for the majority of women. That the “what ifs?” had such simple answers that made so much sense. I left that night thinking, “I could have a home birth with this midwife.” She exudes peace and safety. And I knew I could do it as long as I had her.

Shortly after this, in January 2020, I photographed my first home birth and I left that birth knowing this was 100% the path I would take when it was time. I continued photographing home births and with each one, I gained more and more confidence and was constantly learning something new. When I got my positive pregnancy test in January 2021, I texted my midwife the same day because I knew I had to have her. Not only did I feel that my baby and I were in good hands with her, but she radiates the presence of the Holy Spirit and I just love being around her.

As I mentioned earlier, I was very selective with who I invited into my birth space and a lot of thought and prayer went into it. The boomerang thought I kept having was, “Whoever is supposed to be there will be there.” Obviously, my midwife had another mom to serve and midwife #2 was with me. I pondered on the purpose of this for a while. I love my birth story and midwife #2 was absolutely amazing, and you can clearly see through my birth story that God definitely divinely placed her with me and gave her the words I needed to hear. If I had known beforehand that my original midwife would not be at my birth, I would have been sad and maybe even a little uneasy. But when I heard that she might not make it while I was in labor, I did not have one ounce of unease. I was a little bummed - I wanted her there because of what she meant to me - but I felt total peace and acceptance and even confidence. And I knew she had asked God which mama she needed to be with, and He guided her, and He does not mislead. 

As I reflected on this part of my story, I remembered how I thought a few years ago, “I could have a home birth with this midwife.” But the truth is, I could have a home birth without her - and I did. Yes, I still had a midwife and a doula present, but it wasn’t because of either of them that I was “able” to do it. I instinctively knew that my labor was safe. That everything was going smoothly. That if something did arise, I was so connected to my body and my baby that I would know. This sounds like total quackery to some people - I get it. But our instincts, our connectedness to what we need - that’s the Holy Spirit. The Great Physician. There is not a midwife, nurse, doctor, chiropractor, or surgeon that is above Him. He gives those people wisdom to help us in time of need, yes. But it all comes down to this - and if you believe in prayer, you know - God is MORE than capable of giving us peace when we are safe and unease when we are not. And I had total peace… more peace about birth than I’d ever had before.

When I really needed my midwife, I had her. That was during pregnancy - navigating my emotions and triggers and fears. She counseled me and spoke truth to me. God used her tremendously in my healing. I knew He had led me to her, not just to be my midwife, but to walk with me through everything. And I felt reassurance over and over and over that I was exactly where I needed to be.

That’s the spiritual aspect and my personal journey of choosing home birth. There are many practical reasons, too! I was totally convinced and comfortable with the evidence that home birth is extremely safe for the majority of women. Many of the “what ifs” don’t apply to home birth because things like cervical checks, pitocin, coached pushing/timeline pressure, lack of food/water, bright lights and overly sterile environment, forced positions like mom on back, tugging on the cord, etc. are generally not associated with home birth. Interventions are beneficial when they are truly needed, but their overuse results in more harm than good. I vividly remember after I had Andrie how badly it hurt when the nurse would do the fundal “massage”. This is used to encourage the uterus to contract to prevent hemorrhaging. But as any breastfeeding mother knows, nursing, along with skin-to-skin stimulates oxytocin which brings on contractions naturally, and fundal “massage” is rarely ever needed. It’s a good thing to gently feel your abdomen to check your uterus after birth and during the postpartum weeks, though, and my midwife did that and also informed me of what I should and should not be feeling in the weeks to come. I was SO much more informed and a much bigger (in fact, the biggest!) participant in my home birth prenatal, birth, and postpartum care than I was with my CNM/hospital birth. I was taught things about my body and baby that I couldn’t believe no one taught me the first time.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Andrie’s birth was empowering - I did it! - and I cannot put words to the euphoria that was the insane amount of adrenaline and awe of holding my firstborn. Van’s birth was spiritual - an encounter with God and with Joe and Andrie that was redeeming, yet also new, and comforting. Birthing Andrie was empowering. Birthing Van was powerful. God showed up in both of their stories - in different ways, but in the ways He saw fit - and He continues to show up for me. He has always been faithful. He has given me not only a love and passion for birth and maternal advocacy, but a love and passion for motherhood that couldn’t have been created merely by effort.

I once felt like I lost myself when I became a mom. But then I found myself. More full and alive than I have ever been. Because being a mother has emptied me in the best way - it has made room for Christ.

Thank you so much to Megan Sperry for my beautiful birth photos!