By Leslie S.
Fireworks popped outside the window as downtown Austin was still celebrating the Fourth of July. The tightening in my belly was strong. I kept my eyes closed and practiced deep breaths as the pressure peaked, then waned. Another breath, another pop, another cramp. Baby was coming.
This was my second baby, and this was the eve of the twelfth day since the “due” date. With my first pregnancy, I had felt increasingly anxious as the hours passed beyond the day I had expected my baby to come. In the end, for fear of exceeding the 42-weeks my birth center allowed, I had my membranes swept and spent the day before delivering my daughter racing around town looking for apricot juice to top off a concoction of castor oil and almond butter. This time, in a home birth setting with a midwife who supported my birth, I was ready to surrender and enjoy the extra days. Baby would come when he or she was ready.
I slid off the bed onto buttery-soft wood and made my way into the kitchen in the dark. Out of habit, I avoided the creaky boards. I love our hundred-and-some-odd-year-old home. In the quiet moments leading to labor, I was imagining the families that lived here before us. And as the waves of labor passed, I wondered, too, how many babies had been born and how many women had labored like me on these now-creaky wooden floors.
Earlier that day, we had celebrated the Fourth of July with friends and family. Our day started as most did before we were a family of four. We were cuddling in bed, nursing my daughter, Annabel, and reading. Breakfast and coffee started the morning. That day, we drove out to the lake, where we relaxed by the water, catching up with old friends. Before heading home to make it back for nap time, the three of us stopped and grabbed burgers while Annabel played. Dinner that night was with my family. My mom laughed and said her phone would be by her bedside. I laughed and said I planned to be pregnant forever! We came home, did our bath time routine like always. I nursed Annabel, and before I laid her in her crib, we blew out her goodnight candle. Our ritual was complete. We went to sleep.
Around midnight on July fifth, I woke my husband and told him that our baby was coming. He asked if I was sure. I was sure! At 12:15, I called my midwife, Julia. She asked about the labor and the pains. I didn’t know. Were they coming quickly? Were they increasing? Did we have time? I felt like I had my head for this one. The waves were strong, but I felt confident. I was ready, and I felt excited.
Leading to this birth, I had envisioned laboring in an outdoor shower in our backyard. In a funny way, I was excited that the moment had finally come to put the old cedar closet to use. As the waves came closer and closer, I went outside. Happily, I turned the shower on and let the hot water soothe my back, just in time for another wave.
Julia arrived. “The baby may be coming sooner than we thought,” she told me. “We may not have enough time to blow up the pool.”
After a successful water birth with my daughter, my heart was set on a water birth now. I felt my shoulders tighten up and frustration cloud my mind at the thought of delivering anywhere else. I wanted to talk, but the contractions were strong. I wanted to be alone, in the dark, in the shower. I went back outside and stood in the hot water. My husband pulled up a chair and sat down, giving me space, but there for support. I held the top of the cedar screen and let my body hang with each wave. Loud breaths through my nose to fill my belly. Deep, belly-emptying exhales on the way out. I began to feel the urge to bear down. It was almost time. I went inside.
Inside our bedroom, the lights were low and the room felt warm. In my absence, Julia had, thankfully, inflated the birth pool and filled the pool with warm water. I remember feeling so happy to see it there. The birth pool was absolute perfection. I slid into the water. Deep breath, and Ah!
I don’t remember how long I pushed, but I understand it was an hour or so. I have flashes of memories, of squeezing Julia’s hand, the cool towels she and my husband placed on my forehead, of moving into different positions. And mostly, feeling a sense of calm throughout. My breathing helped me regulate the pushing and the pain, feel calm, and open. I don’t remember any words, but I remember feeling very deeply cared for and very much held through the delivery of my baby.
Our son, Bode Riggs, was born at 4:10 in the morning on July fifth. He was born in our bedroom, a beautiful, healthy, 10-pound, 23-inch baby. His little body slid into the pool and onto my chest, where I held him and felt his wrinkly bottom, his back, his cheeks. I felt the cord that still connected us. He cried, and I felt stunned and extraordinarily happy. Julia left the bedroom. My husband and I admired our baby. Then, it was time for him to nurse and time for me to deliver the placenta. Bode was ready for the world.
Bode’s birth was everything I had hoped for. His was my dream birth and one that left me feeling stronger, more capable, and empowered. I am filled with gratitude to have had my husband’s support throughout the journey, and I am reverently thankful for the women in my life who have helped shape my understanding of birth as an opportunity for empowerment.
And finally, throughout my pregnancy, I had envisioned a birth that was as ordinary to the world as it was precious to me: joyfully simple, at home, peaceful, with my husband and daughter present—my whole world together. I am grateful for Bode that his entry to the world allowed me to experience a beautiful birth.
Editor’s note: There are many ways to bring your baby into the world. New Beginnings features birth stories in a variety of settings (hospital, birth center, home birth, and more) on the blog. You can learn more about how birth impacts breastfeeding here. We encourage you to consult with your support persons and healthcare providers to determine what birth choices will work best for your individual circumstances.
Share your birth and breastfeeding stories with our blog! Send to Kylie at [email protected]
Supporting Breastfeeding Families–Today, Tomorrow, Always
Please consider donating to La Leche League USA.
Your gift helps support this blog and the website!
Donations of any amount are gratefully accepted. Thank you!
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Last Updated: November 11, 2024 by Yael Breimer
Bode’s Home Birth Story
By Leslie S.
Fireworks popped outside the window as downtown Austin was still celebrating the Fourth of July. The tightening in my belly was strong. I kept my eyes closed and practiced deep breaths as the pressure peaked, then waned. Another breath, another pop, another cramp. Baby was coming.
I slid off the bed onto buttery-soft wood and made my way into the kitchen in the dark. Out of habit, I avoided the creaky boards. I love our hundred-and-some-odd-year-old home. In the quiet moments leading to labor, I was imagining the families that lived here before us. And as the waves of labor passed, I wondered, too, how many babies had been born and how many women had labored like me on these now-creaky wooden floors.
Earlier that day, we had celebrated the Fourth of July with friends and family. Our day started as most did before we were a family of four. We were cuddling in bed, nursing my daughter, Annabel, and reading. Breakfast and coffee started the morning. That day, we drove out to the lake, where we relaxed by the water, catching up with old friends. Before heading home to make it back for nap time, the three of us stopped and grabbed burgers while Annabel played. Dinner that night was with my family. My mom laughed and said her phone would be by her bedside. I laughed and said I planned to be pregnant forever! We came home, did our bath time routine like always. I nursed Annabel, and before I laid her in her crib, we blew out her goodnight candle. Our ritual was complete. We went to sleep.
Around midnight on July fifth, I woke my husband and told him that our baby was coming. He asked if I was sure. I was sure! At 12:15, I called my midwife, Julia. She asked about the labor and the pains. I didn’t know. Were they coming quickly? Were they increasing? Did we have time? I felt like I had my head for this one. The waves were strong, but I felt confident. I was ready, and I felt excited.
Leading to this birth, I had envisioned laboring in an outdoor shower in our backyard. In a funny way, I was excited that the moment had finally come to put the old cedar closet to use. As the waves came closer and closer, I went outside. Happily, I turned the shower on and let the hot water soothe my back, just in time for another wave.
Julia arrived. “The baby may be coming sooner than we thought,” she told me. “We may not have enough time to blow up the pool.”
After a successful water birth with my daughter, my heart was set on a water birth now. I felt my shoulders tighten up and frustration cloud my mind at the thought of delivering anywhere else. I wanted to talk, but the contractions were strong. I wanted to be alone, in the dark, in the shower. I went back outside and stood in the hot water. My husband pulled up a chair and sat down, giving me space, but there for support. I held the top of the cedar screen and let my body hang with each wave. Loud breaths through my nose to fill my belly. Deep, belly-emptying exhales on the way out. I began to feel the urge to bear down. It was almost time. I went inside.
Inside our bedroom, the lights were low and the room felt warm. In my absence, Julia had, thankfully, inflated the birth pool and filled the pool with warm water. I remember feeling so happy to see it there. The birth pool was absolute perfection. I slid into the water. Deep breath, and Ah!
I don’t remember how long I pushed, but I understand it was an hour or so. I have flashes of memories, of squeezing Julia’s hand, the cool towels she and my husband placed on my forehead, of moving into different positions. And mostly, feeling a sense of calm throughout. My breathing helped me regulate the pushing and the pain, feel calm, and open. I don’t remember any words, but I remember feeling very deeply cared for and very much held through the delivery of my baby.
Bode’s birth was everything I had hoped for. His was my dream birth and one that left me feeling stronger, more capable, and empowered. I am filled with gratitude to have had my husband’s support throughout the journey, and I am reverently thankful for the women in my life who have helped shape my understanding of birth as an opportunity for empowerment.
And finally, throughout my pregnancy, I had envisioned a birth that was as ordinary to the world as it was precious to me: joyfully simple, at home, peaceful, with my husband and daughter present—my whole world together. I am grateful for Bode that his entry to the world allowed me to experience a beautiful birth.
Editor’s note: There are many ways to bring your baby into the world. New Beginnings features birth stories in a variety of settings (hospital, birth center, home birth, and more) on the blog. You can learn more about how birth impacts breastfeeding here. We encourage you to consult with your support persons and healthcare providers to determine what birth choices will work best for your individual circumstances.
Share your birth and breastfeeding stories with our blog! Send to Kylie at [email protected]
Supporting Breastfeeding Families–Today, Tomorrow, Always
Please consider donating to La Leche League USA.
Your gift helps support this blog and the website!
Donations of any amount are gratefully accepted. Thank you!
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