Freeman's Home Birth

When I told people I was having a home birth, the responses were less than encouraging:

"If I was born at home, I would not have survived."

“I hope you have a backup plan.”

"My wife found out that it's impossible for her to deliver naturally, so she couldn't have done that."

"Wow, you are so brave. I could NEVER do that."

Despite their apprehensions, I went through with it.

This is the story of Freeman's home birth.

Part I: Pre-Conception

It was the summer of 2021. We were a little over two years into our marriage, and I was struggling with major hormonal imbalances. Over the course of a year and half, I had experienced a period of pretty rapid weight loss. I had two periods in seventeen months. My hair was falling out by the fistful.

I remember my husband Sam walking into the bathroom after I had just finished showering, to find a pile of hair on the shower floor. “Did that all come from your head? Just now?”

I had begun working with a lady named Deb Lowrance that April. I received her contact info from my friend Teri, who was using her as a midwife for her upcoming home birth. Deb specializes in midwifery care and women's health. She had me do a blood panel, revealing that my levels of progesterone and estrogen - what my body needed to reproduce - were in the range of a post menopausal woman. In other words, practically non-existent.

She had me take copious amounts of Vitex, an herb used to regulate menstrual problems. She also suggested I increase my protein and carb consumption and gain some weight, as she doubted that I was eating enough to sustain my cycle.

Sam and I had been on the same page from the beginning: we wanted a family, and a big one at that. We had reached the age when scrolling through our respective Instagram feeds shows birth announcement after birth announcement. It felt isolating, realizing that it could be years before that stage of life became our reality.

Despite the extreme improbability of getting pregnant, I thought about it constantly and took a pregnancy test at every sign. Signs including, but not limited to, a missed period. Which for me, was nearly every month. Sam and I didn’t talk much about having a family around that time. It seemed like a physical impossibility. But all this didn’t stop me from getting my hopes up, only to find disappointment with every negative test.

I finally had a period in June 2021, and I was ecstatic. Were my hormonal struggles a thing of the past? My hopes were dashed once again when July came and went with no period. Back to the drawing board for me.

I was disappointed, but not surprised when I missed my August period too. It seemed like a normal occurrence at this point. But as I would soon find out, this time was quite different.

Part II: Pregnancy

It was a Thursday in September, and I was on my way home after a post-work grocery shopping trip. A thought crossed my mind: my boobs hurt. My boobs have never hurt before. That’s strange. And I feel like they’ve been hurting for at least a few days now.

I was using the Fitbit app to log any semblance of period symptoms, so while I was driving (sorry Mom), I pulled up the app. Sure enough, they had been hurting for a whole week.

Upon arriving at home, I dropped all the groceries on the kitchen floor and grabbed a pregnancy test from the closet. I peed on the stick and set it on the bathroom sink. Two pink lines immediately began to appear. That's not what I expected.

I walked aimlessly around the house for a while, leaving my piles of groceries to reach room temperature on the floor. I was in shock. How was this even possible? I had to take another test. As I waited for my bladder to fill again, I did a quick Google search on false positives. Looks like they are not very common. I must be the exception.

I took a second test. Then a third test. Positive, and positive again.

For me, having a home birth was just about a given from the beginning. I was born at home; my brother was born at home. My aunt birthed seven children at home. I didn't know much about birth, but I knew that I would likely feel more comfortable at home over the hospital. Researching home births and hospital births confirmed my decision.

A little over two weeks after the positive tests, on a Saturday morning, I had the privilege of being present at my friend Teri’s home birth. While I had been in the house for many of my aunt’s home births, I had never paid much attention. In fact, I actively tried to not be in the room when the birth was taking place. Now that I knew what was coming less than nine months down the road, witnessing a birth was a much different experience.

Sam didn’t know much about home birth, but he was naturally minded, and open to the idea. The more he learned about it, the more it made sense to him. I remember his face when he watched his first birth video in the documentary The Business of Being Born. I wondered if he would be that horrified when I was giving birth.

I had already been working with Deb to resolve my hormonal issues, so it made sense that I would work with her throughout pregnancy, too. And now, I had even witnessed her work at an actual birth. What stood out most to me was her calm demeanor. She didn’t say much as Teri was giving birth - only what needed to be said, and that was very little. Teri gave birth as her body knew how to, and Deb respected that.

I learned as much as I could to support myself and my baby. I devoured books on home birth, hypnobirthing, prenatal nutrition, cosleeping, breastfeeding, and postpartum. I listened to hours upon hours of podcasts like Happy Homebirth and Doing It At Home. Sam and I took a birth class together, which gave us both a better idea of what to expect during the birth.

Deb began every appointment with, “what questions do you have for me today?” and I would come at her with the lengthy list I had developed since the last time we talked. She was honest and reasonable in her answers. If I forgot a question or needed an answer before my next appointment, I could text her anytime - even if the question was on behalf of a pregnant friend, and not myself. She was clearly eager to follow evidence based practices, even if the current medical model opposed them.

I was blessed to have a great pregnancy overall. First trimester exhaustion was on a level I did not think was possible. There were nights it took everything in me to get off the couch to go to bed. Doing dishes after dinner was not going to happen. I did fine at work as long as I remained standing. A body in motion stays in motion. It's a good thing, I decided, that teachers don't often get a chance to sit down. I had some morning sickness during the first trimester, but it was mostly remedied once I stopped taking vitamins on an empty stomach. I only threw up once.

I ran three 5Ks while pregnant, the last one on Thanksgiving Day. It was at that point that I decided to stop running. A ligament in my foot hurt badly, and running was only making it worse. Looking back, I see my body was signaling to take it easy. Nourishing myself became much easier without a four mile run every day.

I had my anatomy scan ultrasound at 21 weeks. We decided to not find out the gender. Results from the ultrasound showed that my placenta was close to my cervix. Deb was concerned that my pregnancy could result in placenta previa, a condition where the placenta covers the cervix, therefore preventing a vaginal birth. Deb encouraged me to receive a third trimester ultrasound to make sure my placenta had moved to a more optimal position. However, the placenta typically moves as the uterus grows, and I was not in a high risk group for placenta previa. Additionally, I wanted to avoid unnecessary ultrasounds for the health of my baby. I decided to decline the ultrasound, and Deb honored that decision.

I declined much of the testing and interventions which are typically practiced in the medical model, and Deb supported and encouraged me in those decisions as well. For example, I chose to opt out of the typical glucose test. Instead, I monitored my blood sugar by tracking my numbers and food choices for a week, sharing the results with Deb. I did not take any vaccines or other injections.

I also chose to opt out of the Strep B test, as I did not plan on taking antibiotics anyway. Instead, I took probiotics everyday of my pregnancy, and I doubled up as my due date got closer. Water birth has been shown to decrease the risk of infection, and that is what I planned to do.

As my due date inched closer, my biggest fear was that I would not be able to relax enough to birth this baby. I had read a book on hypnobirthing, but I hadn't practiced anything with consistency. At Week 36, I was fearful that it was too late.

I shared these fears with Sam, and he encouraged me that any amount of practice could only benefit me and our baby. He created a playlist for me of relaxing songs. Every night, I would turn off the lights, run lavender in my diffuser, and practice deep-breathing to the playlist. Through repetition, I taught my body to relax to this little ritual, and I planned to do it when I entered labor.

My mom delivered both myself and my brother early, and we assumed that my body would have a similar timeline. I started maternity leave on Tuesday, April 26. My mom, dad, and their beloved dog Maisie arrived the next day, with a plan to be there for the birth. I was a little over 38 weeks pregnant, and they feared they might not make it in time. After all, I could go into labor any day!

I did not go into labor the day they arrived. Or the next day. Or the day after that. I had a sweet time with my parents for over three weeks, with lots of household chores, walks, and coffee runs. I had time to cross everything off of my before-baby to do list and much much more. But my dad had to get back to work, and this whole waiting-on-baby-thing was lasting longer than planned. When they left the morning of Thursday, May 19, there was no end in sight to this pregnancy.

Everyone we encountered at church or the coffee shop or at Walmart shared their induction stories and asked if we would induce. Sam offered to let me push mow the lawn, claiming the vibration of the mower might induce labor. He still insists the offer was entirely altruistic, but I know how much he hates mowing the lawn.

My friend Teri suggested that I get a prenatal massage. I was already at 40 weeks, and the place was booked a week out. I made the next available appointment - at 41 weeks and 1 day - thinking that I would never get my prenatal massage. I did. The prenatal massage was helpful in getting me to relax. Sam massaged my shoulders when he came home from work that day and said that there was a noticeable difference in my muscle tightness. That was encouraging.

Part III: Birth Day

Friday afternoon - 41 weeks and 5 days - I began to feel Braxton Hicks contractions with some consistency. They felt like slight cramps in my belly. I knew it was possible for the contractions to lead to nothing, but I also knew deep down that I would be giving birth the next day.

I spent the whole day in preparation. I made chicken soup, brown rice, and laborade. I deep cleaned the kitchen. My mind was racing with thoughts of what the following day could bring, but I kept it all to myself.

That night on the front porch, Sam tried to convince me to mow the lawn again (a whole week had passed since his last offer), and I had to come clean. There was no need to kick-start labor. My body had finally done that. Sorry Sam, you're going to have to mow the lawn yourself.

I had contractions all night long. Not painful, but strong enough to wake me up. Every five minutes I woke up to a contraction, pressed the contraction timer on my phone under my pillow, and immediately fell back to sleep. I leaked bits of fluid throughout the night, and around 2:30am I had some bloody show. I slept in as long as possible, knowing I wouldn’t have the opportunity to sleep for the next eighteen years (as many moms had faithfully warned me).

I had a Lara Bar and took a shower around 10:00am. Silly me tried to straighten my bangs. I even had in mind that I would put on makeup (yes, for my water birth). That never happened.

I asked Sam to turn on my relaxing music and run the lavender diffuser. He happily obliged.

"How many drops of lavender do you need?" He asked a minute later.

"Just five," I replied.

"Oh, I already used about thirty." The air was thick with lavender.

Next Sam attempted to turn on my playlist of relaxing music. Instead, he clicked the wrong playlist, and It’s a Great Day to Be Alive by Travis Tritt came on. It might not have been on my relaxing playlist, but it was the perfect song for a birth.

Sam served me some eggs with cheese, and when I was done eating, encouraged me with “now it’s time to lay your own egg.” He also fresh-squeezed a glass of orange juice from my parents’ California oranges. That orange juice was the most refreshing, rejuvenating beverage I can recall consuming in my whole life.

It was stormy and overcast all day. Around 1:00pm, Sam and I went to bed and cuddled, as much as we could with a giant labor ball between my legs. Contractions continued to get more intense. Sam told me I was doing the best labor he had ever seen.

I took another shower around 3:00pm, and I asked Sam to turn off the lights. It was comforting to be in complete darkness. Contractions picked up even more. Apparently the noises I made while in the shower made that abundantly clear to everyone in the house.

By this point, everyone on my birth team had arrived. My friend Teri was there with the video equipment. Another friend, Lindsay, was taking photos. My midwife Deb and her assistant Tiffany were there. When I got out, Deb asked if I wanted to be checked. I was curious, so I said yes. I was 4cm and 100% effaced.

She had me start the Miles Circuit. This is a series of positions, meant to line the baby up in preparation for delivery. It's a natural induction method, mostly used to progress labor that has already begun. I threw up laying on our bedroom floor. I became wildly cold, and someone put the comforter over me.

I got in the tub around 5:30pm, and I was nonverbal by 6:00pm. Deb checked me again at 6:40pm, and I was at 5-6cm, with baby very low. I was discouraged. It already felt like it had been ages since she last checked me, and I had only progressed a centimeter or two.

It was what followed that cervical check - progressing from a 6 to a 10 - that was most excruciating for me, both physically and mentally. Not long after Deb checked me, I started to feel pushy, and I was in a lot of pain.

I knew it must be too early to push. Everyone kept telling me that I needed to relax if I was going to make it to a 10, but relaxing was the opposite sensation of what my body was begging me to do. It was excruciating, feeling like every contraction was moving me in the opposite direction of where I needed to go.

It was at that point that I felt like I could not go on. This is it. I'm going to be labeled “Failure to Progress.” I kept all the negative thoughts to myself, refusing to speak them out loud. I tried my best to relax, deciding that the hospital was not an option.

Little did I know how quickly my body was progressing. Around 7:30pm, I attempted to communicate how hard it was for me to relax, when all I wanted to do was push. In my head, I communicated this articulately to all present in the room. According to Sam, this sounded more like “ARGHHHHHH. PUSH!”

Regardless, Deb got the idea. She didn’t even offer to check me again; she knew I was ready. At that point, Sam had already been in the pool with me for quite a while. He had his arms wrapped around me, and I pushed as I leaned back against him.

It had taken me less than an hour to progress from a “5 or 6” to a 10.

I do not remember this part being painful. Pushing was a relief. I could finally do what my body had been begging for. With our floor length mirror propped up on the other side of the pool, Sam and I were able to watch the whole thing. I saw more and more of our baby’s head. It looked like the head just kept coming; it was so cone-like.

I will always remember the moment after his body came out, when Deb caught him and put him on my chest. His cone head and disproportionately long arms. His massive hands. His slightly open, helpless eyes. His blueish, quivering, little body. Time stopped in that surreal moment. Here was the child who has been growing in me for the past ten months. Here was the baby I had spent every moment with for nearly a year, yet hardly knew at all. This creature felt so foreign, so alien.

Deb instructed me to give the baby a few breaths, as he did not breathe right away. I did not even have the chance to be concerned. Before I was able to follow her instructions, he coughed and let out a soft cry. It was the sweetest sound we had ever heard.

Deb gave him a few inflation breaths to help him out. They confirmed the time of birth: 8:40pm. The cord was wrapped around something, making it so that I nearly dunked my newborn babe into the water several times. Deb unwound the cord and we waited until it stopped pulsating for Sam to cut it. I lifted him up off my chest and made the long awaited-for announcement: "It’s a boy!"

The realization I still needed to get the placenta out was deflating. I thought that all my hard work was done. Pushing the placenta out as the culmination of all my labor had never entered my mind that day. I attempted to push, but it just wasn’t coming out.

Sam got out of the pool and brought Freeman to the bedroom. Deb gave me some herbs to help the placenta to separate. I squatted outside the pool, and the placenta finally came out close to a half hour post-birth.

It was then that I became colder than I’ve ever been. My teeth chattered, and I couldn’t stop shivering. They wrapped me up in warm towels and brought me to the bedroom. Teri had warmed up some of the chicken soup I had made the day before, and it was waiting for me on my bed. It felt so nourishing.

Deb checked our baby out. He was 7lbs 9oz and 20in long. We opted out of the Vitamin K shot, using the drops instead. Deb checked me out. I had a couple minor tears, but I didn’t need stitches. We attempted to nurse. That didn’t go so well for his first twenty-four hours, but we got the hang of it eventually.

At some point, Sam and I had a brief moment when no one else could hear. We had tentatively agreed on a boy name, but we were both expecting a girl. "So does this mean his name is Freeman?" It felt so strange, being solely responsible for the naming of this brand new human being, but it felt like the perfect name.

Everyone went home, leaving our new little family of three all on our own. I was high on oxytocin. I did not feel tired at all. I texted the news to everyone on our list, and we FaceTimed multiple family members that night. Our precious baby was finally here!

Part IV: Reflections

There are a few things that stand out to me most from Freeman's home birth.

First is the autonomy that I had over every aspect of the birth process:

I had autonomy over the preparation. I thoroughly researched every decision, taking control of my pregnancy and birth.

I had autonomy over my team. I had a wonderful group of people who supported me the entire time, and I chose each and every one of them.

I had autonomy over my environment. I had the diffuser going with the scent that I wanted - granted on a level much stronger than I had anticipated, thanks to my dear husband - and I had the music running that I practiced relaxing to for weeks.

I had autonomy over what I put in my body. I did not want to be hooked up to an IV. I did not want ice chips. I nourished my body with whatever felt good to eat or drink in the moment. I know that this allowed me to keep my energy up throughout Freeman's long Birth Day.

I had autonomy over my positions. I labored all over the house: on our bed, on the birth ball, in the shower, and on the floor. I labored wherever and however was comfortable for me.

Another aspect of our birth that stands out is how peaceful and low-stress it was. Birth is a traumatic experience; there's no getting around that. Sam and I joked that Freeman's birth day was the worst day of his life. It definitely was, in comparison to the warm, safe, comforting womb he had known. This is apart from typical medical interventions which add even more trauma to an already stressful time in a newborn baby's life.

Freeman is a content baby. He does not cry often, and when he does, it doesn't take much guessing to figure out what's the matter. Sam and I know we've been blessed with a great baby, and suspect the manner of his birth must have played a role in his sweet demeanor.

His immature liver was not forced to detox from the typical drugs or vaccines. He did not go through the trauma of major surgery in the days following his birth. He was born in a dimly lit, peaceful sounding, lavender-smelling home.

Finally, Freeman's birth felt so normal. In a way, it felt like just another day. I ate breakfast, I never left my home, and I was curled up in my own bed soon after his birth. It was the most challenging thing I have ever done, but it was still so normal. Birth is a normal human event, and it has happened in the life of us all. Birth can have its hazards, just like the normal human events of driving a car or walking down the street. It's essential to be prepared and to know your options. But you don't have to be afraid of it.

Birth is a beautiful, everyday miracle. I did not want the beauty of this once-in-a-lifetime, everyday human event to be dulled by the numbness of pain medications and searing hospital lighting. I wanted to experience it all in the comfort and safety of my own home, and I wanted my child's first moments on earth to be there, too.

Photo creds: Lindsay Parsons