My Home Birth Story

The only element of my birth that I was certain about, other than holding my baby in my arms sometime near the end, was that I really wanted to labor and deliver in my own home. So I equipped myself with a skilled, compassionate, intelligent and fun birth team: my partner, two midwives, two doulas, and as it turned out my mom and aunt. My pregnancy was very low-risk and I was healthy going in to pregnancy and stayed healthy throughout, which made me a great home birth candidate.

(I’m going to stop here for just a moment to give you a little insight into why I opted for a home birth when less than 2% of women in this country do so. The crux of it is that I wanted my body and my baby to dictate my birth. I knew I had the wisdom and experience of literally millions of women who’ve birthed before me on my side. I wanted to bring my baby into this world in a safe, nurturing, comfortable environment surrounded by love and awe. And I just knew I could do it.)

So my family woke up one Tuesday morning last June and went about the chaos. Our barely two-year-old daughter had to eat, get dressed, brush teeth and get out the door, well we all had to actually. My partner took her to childcare so I could walk our big pooch and work from home. And since I had passed my “guess date” two days earlier, it seemed wise to stick around the house. We all somehow managed to get out the door by 9am, which is a small victory in our house, but I immediately threw to the wayside my own suggestion to stay near home and began to walk the dog through Theo Wirth Park. I also forgot my cell phone and was a 25-minute walk away from home when it happened. The contraction that stopped me in my tracks and made me catch my breath.

Time to lumber home hoping I don’t have the baby in the woods with just the dog. Next came a set of very convenient happenings. I made it home just in time to go to the bathroom, where my waters broke while on the toilet! Then I remembered I had a midwife appointment that morning so both of them showed up immediately after. Regular check up with normal heart rates for me and baby, good baby position, regular contractions. They told me to have an easy day of rest, to eat plenty of food and try to relax. They left and no more than five minutes later it was game on.

I looked at my partner and said: “this is happening NOW!” She panicked and responded: “I have to run to Target, we need more towels.” I told her, in no uncertain terms, she wasn’t leaving and to call my mom to pick up some towels and bring them over, which is how my mom ended up staying for the birth of her first grandson. I get in the shower, my happy and calming place, while my partner attempted to set up the birth tub in our living room.  Things happened really quickly at this point. I was swaying at my bathroom sink with contractions less than a minute apart while she was still struggling to get the damn tub filled, bless her nervous heart.

Four hours and two minutes after my contractions started, I gave birth to our son in the finally filled tub in our living room, with windows open to the sunshine, surrounded and encouraged by my women-folk. It was magical, beautiful and as close to perfect as I would have imagined, if I had let myself think of a birth plan.

And then I hemorrhaged. Because nothing goes according to plan. I spent the night of our son’s birth at HCMC, not at home in our cozy bed. My partner and our son were with me. And I was only there for monitoring as my midwives stopped the bleeding before I left for the ER. But nonetheless, it’s not where I wanted to be.

My actual birth was a dream. The 12 hours after it were not. My body and my baby did everything right, they just did it a little too quickly for all my insides to catch up. As we tend to differ in many things, my partner’s labor lasted almost 70 hours and also ended up at the hospital, where our daughter was born. I remember at one point during my labor I heard my midwife say to my partner that birth is rarely as much of a challenge as hers was and then she asked if she might want to try again. To which my partner emphatically replied: “We obviously know who the better birther is in this relationship!”

People ask me all the time why I wanted a home birth. For so many comfort, safety, compassionate, and natural reasons, but I can really tell them now it’s because it showed me I am a true warrior. As every birth for every woman, no matter where it is or how it goes, should. And if I have any more children out of this body, I’ll have them at home every time.

Annie and her partner of nine years are raising their two children, an almost three year old daughter and a 7 month old son, with as much love, adventure and fun as they can muster. Some days that means an obstacle course in the living room (hello, winter!), but as often as is possible, they are all outside living, along with their big ol’ spotty dog. They are passionate about exploring new places, new people, new food, new adventures, so they travel as often and as far-flung as they can. Annie also works full-time for a nonprofit focused on engagement and impact of media in different communities. And when there’s time, she practices yoga, bakes, hikes and does laundry.