Sharing My Home-Birth Story: Part 1
Welcome to My Birth Story
Dear friends,
I have decided to share my home-birth story. I didn’t think I would. Birth is sacred, but also vulnerable. When my photographer asked to share my pictures on her website, I respectfully declined. As I looked at those images of myself in that state of acute transformation, I didn’t feel like they were for the world’s eyes. They were for mine, and maybe a few beloved people in my life.
When you share a story, whether through words or images, it’s no longer yours. It becomes an offering to the world. And while it would have been completely appropriate to keep this story to myself, a few things have changed my heart.
One, I have distance from the experience, which allows me to see it with a bit of space. Less intimacy. It no longer feels like this birth lives within the throbbing pulse of my cells.
Two, I have benefited from reading, watching, and listening to so many birth stories. A year before I got pregnant, I was consuming birth stories. Then, as I grew a small human, approaching the biggest event of my life, stories remained my main form of preparation. I am deeply indebted to everyone who was brave enough to share theirs. I literally thought of people’s stories while birthing my child. That’s how much they imprinted on me.
Which brings me to three: Now, five months postpartum, sharing this story feels like a way in which I can honor myself. My journey. As I think back on my birth, review the pictures and relive the details, I am in awe of my own power and strength. I think women need to claim that more.
So, here’s what you can expect: a four-part post following my birth, from the decision to birth at home to early labor, active labor, delivery, and my postpartum experience. I’ve selected a few photos I feel comfortable sharing to help tell the story as we go, and I’m dropping little pieces of advice. Or, less “advice” and more “things I wish I had known” or “things that helped me.” Birth is incredibly personal, but perhaps some of these reflections will be supportive.
I considered titling this story a “positive home birth,” but in truth, I experienced some rare postpartum complications. They were hard. I had some big “T” trauma. So, was it a positive experience or negative?
Birth is often too nuanced to fit inside simple labels. Some people are lucky enough to have an uncomplicated birth. Others aren’t. It’s not their fault, but simply how things unfold in this wild, primal event. Birth is all-consuming, burning up who you were to make way for who you’re becoming. Some people are spared complications and yet still struggle to come to terms with that. It’s all unique and unexpected.
I’m going to avoid labels like “good” and “bad,” “positive” and “negative.” However, I also want to be sensitive to triggering content. In the forth post, I’ll share my complications in brief, along with some reflections. If you simply want the details of an uncomplicated birth, I would skip the last section.
Thank you for coming with me along this journey. This is a story from my heart, the very seed of who I am. The same seed that grew a sprout, birthed him, and was reborn in the same night. To anyone who is pregnant, hopes to be pregnant, has already birthed, or is simply curious about this life experience: I hope there is something healing for you in these words. May you be ushered through your own experience with empowerment, grace, and enough space to meet whatever comes up.
Big love,
Laura
Deciding to Have a Home birth + Preparation
Building My Birth Plan and Overcoming Indecision
To be honest, I was on the fence about my birth plan the entire pregnancy. I had heard a lot of home-birth stories and watched Youtube videos. It was a favorite weekend pastimes even before becoming pregnant. I watched people birthing in pools, on beds, couches, and I thought they were so brave.
I loved the philosophy of a home birth — to start with what could go right rather than wrong; to move towards birth not from a place of fear or interventions, but deep trust — and yet I wasn’t a likely candidate. I have a low risk tolerance. I generally trust hospitals and doctors. I knew a hospital birth could also be empowering — these weren’t mutually exclusive things…but what did I want?
For many months, I didn’t know.
Let me just recognize that, in the United States, a safe, supported home birth is often a privilege. It costs money out of pocket, and not everyone is afforded the opportunity. Similarly, there are so many birth outcome discrepancies in hospitals, especially by race. This story isn’t about that, but I would be remiss if I didn’t recognize what a privilege it was to have the ability to choose how I wanted to birth, and to feel generally safe in those options.
Because I was so indecisive, I continued care with a midwife and my primary care doctor. I felt into it. I waited for my intuition to kick in with an answer; waited to feel confident in the decision to birth at home, like I knew I’d be able to do it. That feeling never arrived. But a few things did help me slowly sink into the aspiration to pursue a home birth.
- I found a midwife I trusted. My appointments with her were supportive, thorough, and easeful. There was no rush. Every question was answered. I appreciated the wisdom she brought to the whole experience, not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually. Every story she told me about a birth she’d attended reassured me: she had seen, and handled, a lot. If things went sideways, I knew I could trust her to take appropriate action and get us the help we needed.
- I live three minutes from the hospital. That proximity was important to me.
- My primary doctor was onboard as my backup. Home birth vs. hospital can easily feel like a dichotomy, but if you find the right team, it becomes a spectrum of care. Ideally, care can transfer from one party to the next, and you don’t have to feel like you’re choosing wholly separate paths.
- I surrendered. I thought surrendering would feel like a goddess with billowing, waist-length hair stepping into a steaming hot spring while the forest stilled around her: mystical, centered, untouchable. I didn’t feel any of those things. By “surrender” I mean that I literally let go of the things I couldn’t know. Would things work out? I didn’t know. Would I be safe? I didn’t know. Would the baby be safe? I didn’t know. Would I be able to labor without pain medication? I didn’t know. Nothing was guaranteed, which was true if I birthed at home or in the hospital. So I let go of unknowns, I erred on the side of having less intervention, and I chose the location that felt safest: my home.
What I Wish I Would Have Known
If you’re on the fence with your birth plan, I see you. It can be overwhelming, especially if you’re a deep processor, like me. This is what I wish I would have told myself, regardless of what I decided: there’s so much attention put on birth, but it’s not the only important thing. Yes, it is a huge event, but there is so much more to becoming a parent than birth.
I want you to have a beautiful experience no matter your birth plan, but the truth is, unexpected complications, even trauma, can arise anywhere. You can have all the best plans and things can go awry…or you can have no plans and things can go well! You cannot control the unexpected, you can only listen to your heart as best as you can and make the decision that feels right at this moment, given what you know.
I know, it’s big. It brought me a lot of distress. I’m glad I put as much attention into the decision as I did, and I also wish someone had encouraged me to step back. Take a breath. To put the decision aside and know that there was so much more ahead in my parenting journey beyond birth.
Preparation
I want to keep this short. As you’ll soon see, I used none of the techniques I learned while birthing. Still, everything I did to prepare helped in some way, shape, or form, even if it was just the attention I was giving to this transition. I attended three birthing classes — one online, one at the hospital, and one hosted by my doula. I didn’t really intend to sample so many classes, but I found that I loved being informed. I was voracious for information…most of which fell away when I was actually laboring.
When it came to actual tools that were helpful, the biggest one was my mindset.
Here were some of my favorite preparations:
- Chronically my journey. I’m a big journaler. For some reason, while I was pregnant, I wasn’t as interested in journaling, so I turned to another medium: I filmed a little video of myself each week. My own private “vlog.” I reviewed what happened that week, how I was feeling, and anything that was going on in my life. I don’t know if I’ll do anything with these videos, but the simple act of being witnessed, even by my future self, was incredibly meaningful.
- Meditating. I’m also a big meditator, and I had a hard time sitting silently while pregnant, so I turned to guided meditations focused on pregnancy. Honestly, I didn’t find many I liked. There was this one on Spotify that I listened to over and over (one of the phrases she says unexpectedly became a mantra in active labor). My friend also shared her Hypnobirthing tracks. While I didn’t do the program, and didn’t try for a hypnotic birth, the guided meditations were useful in shaping my mindset. And finally, I listened to a few Tara Brach meditations about being in your present-moment experience, like this one.
- Walking. My physical activity dramatically changed in pregnancy. I never felt that huge rush of energy in the second trimester; I didn’t dedicate myself to 100 squats a day, or holding a wall-sit for a minute to simulate the length of a contraction. While I was generally physically healthy, the thing that made the biggest difference was getting outside and walking. I called them my “wisdom walks” with my child. I took in nature, talked to my baby about my experiences of life, and simply let myself breathe. I felt so grateful to have access to trails, mountain views, and a lake near our house… plus an outhouse for ubiquitous pee breaks!
- Connecting with other mamas. A theme that has carried over into motherhood: connecting with other moms and parents has been my lifeblood. Krista Ripma calls it the motherhood mycelium, and it’s so true; your relationships branch deeply beneath the surface of your life, and they will feed you.
- Stories, stories, stories. Like I said, the stories I consumed were so potent, I was thinking about them while giving birth. It was like I was calling upon other birthing people, inviting them into the room with me, feeling connected to them in the hard moments. I wasn’t alone. I’ll share some links at the end of the fourth post to my favorite podcasts, books, and Youtube videos. It’s important to consume stories that support the narrative you want to create. Again, my mindset was my most valuable asset. Throughout pregnancy, I protected my mental field with fierce boundaries.
I was as ready as I would ever be, of that I at least was certain. As I approached my due date, I focused on letting go. My birth would go the way it would go; no matter what happened, once it began, I would be fully in it. There would be nothing else to do but ride the waves.
I had done the hard work; I had built a team I trusted; I had organized all my supplies; I had filled the freezer with meals, set up my postpartum meal train, and labeled which switch turned the living room fan on and off, in case I didn’t have the capacity to tell someone while laboring.
Now, I waited, savoring every final day I had before my child arrived and everything changed.
