Baby number 1
To understand my decision to homebirth my third baby, I’ll explain a little about my experiences with my first two births in a hospital setting.
I was 17 when I had my first baby. I knew nothing about medical freedom, informed decisions, or how to use my voice in a way to make my sovereignty known.
It was a pretty normal pregnancy, despite still basically being a child myself. When my water broke at 38 weeks, I went to the hospital right away. I didn’t eat anything beforehand, so when I was checked in and then told I wouldn’t be able to eat until the baby was born, I had a slight feeling of defeat.
There I was, in full blown labor, feeling pain I’d never felt before, starving and low of energy, and I was expected to continue on like that until my baby decided he was ready to come out (which needed to be soon, because I could hear talk of induction, c-section, etc.)
Not only that, but there were dozens of strangers (that I later learned were med students) coming in and out of my room, observing and making me feel extremely uncomfortable. Every time I’d feel like I had a good rhythm going trying to sync my breaths with my contractions, a new stranger would come in and throw everything off.
At 7cm, I decided to get an epidural. Not long after that, my healthy baby boy was born at 7lbs. 2oz. They cut his cord immediately. And when he wouldn’t latch right away, I felt defeated all over again. They handed me a bottle of formula, and there went my breastfeeding hopes right out the window.
I remember the feeling when I was leaving the hospital with this brand new, tiny little human, who was now my responsibility. I remember thinking, “shit, where’s the instruction guide for this thing?”
I had no idea what I was doing. But, I quickly figured it out.
Motherhood was already engrained in me, unbeknownst to myself.
Baby number 2
Fast forward 5 years, and we find out we’re pregnant again. Right away, I knew I wanted a homebirth more than anything. But, quickly that plan fell apart.
With the outside influences projecting their fears onto me, and me not being strong enough to set boundaries and firmly voice my desperate want for a homebirth, we began the process of finding an OB and figuring out which hospital we’d birth at this time around.
I was excited to find a Midwife who worked for the hospital and began seeing her for my monthly visits. Because I associated midwives with more of a holistic approach to pregnancy, I was surprised that she was more along the lines of a “medwife” who didn’t do much different than an actual OB. I asked her about the possibility of a homebirth, to which she replied, “They’re far too dangerous. This [the hospital] is the safest place you could have a baby.” That was the moment I knew that none of my birth plan was going to be followed as I hoped.
Now, the very first appointment I had seen this “midwife”, she saw that I had THC in my system. Soon after that, CPS became a threat and I didn’t use cannabis again that pregnancy, even though it helped me immensely with morning sickness, pregnancy insomnia, and just overall my appetite and mood.
When my water broke this time around, I decided to wait it out and labor at home for as long as possible. I ate, I juiced an entire watermelon, and finally, I was feeling ready to have and meet my baby.
My entire pregnancy, because I couldn’t have the homebirth that I wished for, I made it a point to everyone that I didn’t want the epidural this time.
So, there I was, once again, checked into the hospital, in so much pain at that point I was just screaming.
The chaos of people, the loud voices surrounding me, the cold, depressing room I was put in, made me realize just how toxic that environment was. Especially for a woman whose supposed to be tuned inward and connecting with her baby and body. It made sense to me in that moment why c-sections can be inevitable in a hospital setting.
How can a woman progress in such a chaotic environment? How can she focus on the important task at hand, which is quite literally a baby ripping through her body? That’s the point though, isn’t it? Make intervention seem helpful, admirable even. Make the strong women trying to focus on accepting the pain rather than suppressing it, feel like they’re doing it to “seem tough”.
And that’s when my birth plan was no longer. Once again, at 7cm, as I was screaming and trying so hard to accept the pain and turn inward, multiple people go:
“Just get the epidural!”
“Why won’t you just accept the pain meds?”
“There’s no trophy for a natural birth!”
And, so, in true people pleasing form, I asked for the epidural.
I won’t go into too much detail as to what it’s like having contractions seconds apart, while a man is in a rush to stick a huge needle into your spine, and yelling at you for moving too much.
I fell asleep after that, my contractions seemed to slow down, and when the doctor who was going to deliver my baby came in, he woke me up and declared it was time to push.
I remember thinking, “Now? I don’t feel anything. How am I supposed to push when I don’t feeling anything?”
2 pushes later, my sweet second son was born at 7lbs exactly. A day before his big brothers birthday.
However, once again, against my birth plan’s wish to keep the cord intact until it turned white, the doctor sat there for 2 minutes and then cut it. Another feeling of defeat. Another feeling of being taken advantage of.
And so, the next morning, I woke up (alone and still in the hospital) excited that I get to go home and celebrate my eldest’s 6th birthday, with his new baby brother.
But, of course, it wasn’t that easy. Remember the THC my “midwife” had found in my system, in the very beginning of my pregnancy? She had apparently flagged me for it, and because of that it was protocol for the nurses in L&D to check my baby’s first poops (the meconium poops) for traces of THC.
Well, guess who didn’t check his poops? And THEN, expected me to stay another day in the hospital for their mistake? Yup.
Thankfully, my husband voiced that we would not be staying another day and we were checked out immediately.
After that experience, I looked at my husband and said, “We’re never birthing in a hospital again.”
My Redeeming Homebirth
Shortly after our second son had turned 1, we decided we were ready to start trying for our next baby. We ended up getting pregnant fairly quickly, and I immediately started looking for a midwife, which I found through multiple recommendations.
Upon meeting her, I felt so reassured that this route was the right option for me this time around. I felt so secure in my decision, and my vision of my empowering, redeeming, unmedicated homebirth was coming to fruition.
The midwife visits were so different from the OB visits I had in the hospital.
She came to me for every visit, which was awesome because it allowed my other children to be included and understand what a homebirth entailed and what to expect.
She didn’t push anything on me (vaccines, circumcision, blood testing, ultrasounds) and let me come to my own informed decisions on everything.
At the same time, she also voiced any concerns she felt I’d needed to address, such as my low blood pressure, low iron, and things like that, and suggestions on how to fix them.
I felt cared for, genuinely. A way I’d never felt in the office of my previous OBs.
Anyways, let’s skip to the birth story.
I woke up Saturday morning (July 31st) around 4am to the first surges, followed by my water breaking around 5am.
I started progressing really quick after that without even realizing it, and by 6:40am I was already in transition and throwing up. I knew at that point it was all going to happen fast.
I got in the shower for some relief, and ended up laboring in there for the next hour. My husband asked if he should start filling the birth pool up and I was basically like, nope he’s coming in here!
About 7:30am I could feel the FER (fetal ejection reflex) start kicking in and I surrendered to that feeling with each surge; knowing he’d be here so soon.
My midwife showed up and he was already nearly crowning.
I followed my body’s lead, and with 2 gentle pushes his head was out, followed by his body with the next surge.
7:50am, my 8lb 7oz baby boy was brought earthside with his proud big brothers and daddy watching.
It was everything I envisioned: euphoric, precipitous, empowering.
And it was as if we didn’t even skip a beat that day.
We woke up, had a baby, and continued on with our daily activities.
My boys played outside, I ate a nutritious meal, we slept in our comfy king bed and everything just felt complete.
I’d never go back to a hospital to give birth again (unless absolutely necessary), when I could do it in the safety and comfort of my own home. With my children curiously watching and the feeling of love surrounding me, rather than being bombarded with strangers, confusion, and chaos.
If you’re curious about homebirth, or don’t know where to begin, you can checkout my other post about 7 steps for preparing for a home birth.
