I was approaching 42 weeks when I found myself riddled with anxiety unsure of why I wasn’t smothering my newborn in sweet kisses yet. I was tip-toeing on the line of having a late-term pregnancy, and I had done everything possible to kickstart labor. Raspberry leaf tea, excess walking, pineapple, sex—you name it, I tried it.
I had mentally, physically, and spiritually prepared for a natural water birth at home. And giving birth in a hospital was not a part of my plan.
So, when my Midwife, Sara Edwards, recommended that I visit a pelvic floor therapist (PFT), I didn’t hesitate to book my appointment for the next day.
The following morning, around 9 a.m., my husband and I made a beeline straight to see the PFT. I’d been having Braxton Hicks for the last few weeks, so I was used to the cramp-like feeling I felt on the drive to the therapist. But this time, this feeling had a bit more cadence to it, the cramp-like feeling was coming every 15 mins. That’s when I realized, “Omg, it’s happening—I’m in early labor.”
“Omg, it’s happening—I’m in early labor.”
I was able to muscle through my appointment as much as I could, but it wasn’t until the drive home that I started to feel extremely nauseous. This is when I started to throw up with every contraction I had. My head lived in a bucket for the next five hours, while my husband patiently laid by my side, making sure I stayed hydrated with coconut water and took garlic pills to fight possible infections once my water broke.
I’d never been so relieved to see my midwife when she came—but it was short-lived. She came in, checked to see how dilated I was, asked me how I felt, and then told me I still had a ways to go. How? “Isn’t this labor? Am I not ready to push?” I thought to myself. But she was the expert, so I trusted her judgment.
At this point, it had been over seven hours, the sun was going down and my contractions were getting stronger. With every contraction my husband counteracted the intensity by squeezing my hips as tight as he could. It helped at first, but eventually, it didn’t put a dent in the pain I was feeling. Every wave felt like my body was slowly ripping open. It’s incredible how 60 seconds of contractions can feel like an eternity.
I was completely zoned out, I wasn’t fully there, and I had no thoughts. Nothing outside my body existed. My brain couldn’t conceptualize what my body and soul were doing—I was in the process of creating a portal, and my body was the medium.
“I was in the process of creating a portal, and my body was the medium.”
My midwife and doula came at the perfect time, and set up shop within minutes. The whole energy shifted when they came into the room, I felt supported, and I had my full team. I finally had the strong women who were guiding me on this journey to motherhood. My husband, as calm as he portrayed himself, was even sighed with relief. So much so, that he was finally able to set the mood with dim lights and our birth playlist—Sade.
As tranquil as the environment was, it didn’t stop the recurring pain I was overcome with every 3-4 mins. My water had finally broken, and I was trying every possible pushing position one could think of. My back? Nope, my legs felt numb. In the tub? uh uh, the water wasn’t hot enough. Squatting? Not at all, I felt like I was going to rip. Nothing was working, I was pushing with no result, and at this point, I couldn’t bear the pain anymore.
After 14 hours, I was ready to throw the towel in. I apologized to my birth teams for wasting their time and told my husband to pack my hospital bag because I was ready for the epidural. I’m sure I even asked if someone could call the ambulance to pick me up because I didn’t want to wait. I guess my labor brain convinced me they would give me an epidural in the back of a moving vehicle. Needless to say, I wanted drugs, and I wanted them ASAP.
My midwife walked me to the bathroom, or as she calls it “the dilation station,” sat on the floor, and patiently asked me if I wanted to give it one last try while my husband quickly packed the bags. I felt guilty, I felt like I was letting myself and everyone around me down. I had to try again, I was way too close to the finish line to not cross it.
On the next contraction, I listened to my body, stood up, lifted one leg up on the toilet seat, like Captain Morgan, and pushed as hard as I could. And this time—intentionally. I tapped into my root chakra and belted out the most deeply grunting animalistic sound I’ve ever made. My husband came rushing in with the half-packed hospital bags, concerned about the sound he’d heard, but shocked at the sight he was seeing. I was doing it—I was giving birth.
“Good, Destinee! keep going, I can see the head, so much hair!” my midwife was exclaiming in the background as she kneeled behind me ready to catch my baby.
It didn’t hit me until I looked down, and I saw a head hanging out of my lady bits, that I realized I was about to meet my little one. I was stuck in that moment. So much so, that my midwife and husband had to snap me back into reality because I was just staring, in awe, at what was coming out of my body. A baby—my baby. I pushed one more time at the next contraction, and out he came.
Everything about this moment was ethereal. I was finally looking at half of me and half of my soulmate in the flesh. Our creation.
I was in bliss—seriously, the explosion of oxytocin my brain received immediately after I delivered completely took over my body. The pain from the contractions, which had just passed, had vanished from my body as if erased from my brain. I didn’t feel a thing.
My husband and I spent the next golden hour in a euphoric state. I had done it, I gave birth to a healthy baby boy weighing 7 lb 7 oz in the comfort of our home. The magic in that moment was indescribable.
Having a natural home birth was the most incredible experience in my life. I wouldn’t change one thing about it. I was in the care of a woman who was sacredly selected to deliver the next generation, my midwife.
The love and gratitude I have for my midwife, is beyond words. She supported and instilled the confidence in me to pass the threshold into motherhood. She was there for me mentally, physically, and spiritually. I’m not sure if I would have had the same support in a hospital setting. But I’m grateful to have chose the option that worked best for me.
Being able to be lay next to my husband with our newborn baby snuggled up between us was a reassuring feeling. I made the right decision to have a natural home birth. I wanted my baby to be born in an environment he was familiar with. After all, he’d already been living here too, just on the inside.
