From Home Birth To Hospital {Birth Story Series}

I wanted to have a home birth. That was my dream. It was everything I thought about and the only thing we planned for. Our first son’s birth was … traumatic. To say the least. I lost all faith in the hospital system. I never fully healed from what they put me through and the thought of having to have my second son inside the four walls of the white washed institution literally caused my blood pressure to rise, my heart to start racing, and my skin to break out in hives. Maybe I was a little dramatic, but I would’ve rather had the baby by myself than go to the hospital. Long story short, it took us forever to find somebody to give us the home birth we wanted and to work with our financial situation. But we found a midwife. She was willing. And we were excited.

I went into labor at 36 weeks on the money. My midwife came to our apartment, all of my family canceled their plans, my cousin got in her car immediately and drove up from Atlanta to photograph our beautiful, redeeming home birth. It was the most difficult three days of my life. And then it all stopped. Just. Completely. Stopped.

Infuriating? Yep. Disappointing? Yep. Depressing? Yep. There I was, 36 weeks pregnant, 4.5 cm dilated, fully effaced, 2 and a half days of hard labor, and no baby. Not even a hint of one. I just knew he would never come. He’d be stuck in there and I’d be pregnant until the end of time.

So we called it. Labor was over. The midwife left her stuff at our apartment and was basically just on call until the day of our 37 week appointment. That’s when she quit us. Yes. She quit. 37 weeks, 4.5cm dilated, fully effaced, and she was done. I will not disclose her name and I don’t care to go into all the reasons why she felt it was necessary, but she definitely had her reasons and we’re not angry with her (anymore). You can read all about it here if you wish. Needless to say, I was crushed. Totally. Totally. Crushed. I sobbed. Hysterically. For about 30 minutes. We refused to let the situation steal our joy and excitement that our family would have a precious baby boy soon. I stopped crying and didn’t shed another single tear. And I still haven’t. I’m so thankful for how things played out. But at the time, I just had to get down to business and find somebody to deliver my baby. Cause seriously, he could’ve dropped out that night.

But he didn’t. He waited 2 more days. Just enough time to find the amazing team of midwives at Dr. Brabson’s office and have one appointment with them. And then things got real.

My water broke at 9PM on a Friday night while hubby was at work and Jonah was fast asleep. I sat down for a date night with Gerard Butler and some taco dip and POP. What was that? Oh. I’m leaking. Things progressed pretty quickly from there. It was dramatic. It was terrifying. I didn’t think we’d make it to the hospital. He tried to come out in the in the parking lot of St. Mary’s. And then the elevator. And then the registration desk. We made it to our room a little after 10PM and he came into the world at a whopping 6 pounds 15 ounces at 10:55PM. It was amazing. I was superwoman. No drugs (no time for that), no water birth (no time for that), no monitors (no time for that. Also I was a violent and difficult beast), no pitocin, no forceps, no vacuum. Just my brute strength, an amazing midwife, a caring nurse, Zach, and my mom cheering me on. It was legit.

I never thought I would ever say I was thankful for a hospital birth, but I am. More than I could ever express. It was the healing experience I needed. It was redeeming and it was empowering. I did it. Nobody did it for me. Nobody took advantage of me. Nobody took control. I was the boss. I birthed my baby. BOOMSAUCE. I’m amazing.

I thought I needed a home birth to redeem my last experience. I thought it was the only way my journey would come full circle and I’d be able to forgive myself, heal, and move on. But now I realize I didn’t need anything. I had it in me the whole time. I just needed to do things myself. It wasn’t about where I had my baby, but just that I had my baby. And I did it. Fierce, yo.

{you can read the full hilarious account of Emery’s lighting fast birth right here}