This is the story of Grace Elizabeth’s birth. We had recently moved to North Carolina, what felt like a world away from Colorado Springs, CO, when I found out I was expecting our third baby. My husband, Bryce, was in the beginning stages of medic school for Special Forces – an all consuming course that left us with no more than minutes each day to speak to each other. In my mind, it was not an ideal time or place to have a baby, but I was thrilled with the news. I had felt like there was just “one more.”
I had been immersed in the natural, hippy-leaning lifestyle of Colorado for 5 years, so I had some different ideas about how I’d like to birth, and who I’d like to attend it. My first birth story is one riddled with scars. Physical scars, but worse still emotional. My second was a much better experience, however there were still things about it that troubled me. I was honestly a little tired of the way I had been treated by caregivers. I was tired of not being allowed to listen to my body in labor, and I really wanted a safe space to birth in.
These desires led me to the only practicing homebirth midwife at the time in Fayetteville. I nervously asked her question after question – not sure if I was ready to commit to something that had previously seemed so radical in my own mind. After asking her lots of hard questions, I decided that was the path I’d like to take. I was seen in her clinic that was set up more like a cozy home than the doctor’s offices I was so used to. Everything about my prenatal care was wonderful. I had never felt so invested in both physically and emotionally by a medical provider.
One of the unique things about choosing to birth with a midwife, was that she was ok with waiting for me to go into labor on my own, something that I’d never done before – because it turns out I take eons to cook em’. I waited, and waited. Forty weeks came and went. Forty one, Forty two. We did non-stress tests to make sure Miss Grace was fine, and she was. In Fayetteville, the end of August is not a particularly forgiving climate for pregnant women and/or air conditioning units. Our central air went out in my forty-second week of pregnancy. Since the plan was obviously to birth at home, we had ourselves a little problem.
This is a time that I’ll likely never forget. My mother came to stay for a while to help out, Bryce rigged up temporary AC units while I layed on linen sheet covered couches, trying not to generate any more heat by moving. We waited. We prayed for a timely birth, and I had to lean in to the Lord and trust that he had just the right time for this little one to make her way into this earth. My mom is the first person I call when I need prayer, so knowing she was in my home, praying as she went about helping with the older girls was a great comfort to me.
I fully believe in the good of modern medicine. I think that science is a great tool and I’m thankful for the technology we now have available to us. Choosing to have a homebirth allowed me to step back for a moment though, and to think about all the times where we humans think we know better. We get uncomfortable with the waiting, the not-knowing and the what-ifs. Waiting for a baby with no “eviction notice” pending is a strange concept in our culture. Now, this is in no way meant to guilt anyone who’s had an induction – I’ve had two. And there’s a time and place for them. But this pregnancy wasn’t one of them. I had a lot of explaining to do to friends and family who just didn’t understand why I’d wait. It was different. And I’m glad it was.
On a Saturday, at forty-two weeks and three days, I had a feeling. Things were going to happen today. Today is a good day to have a baby. I made an announcement to my family that I’d be staying in my room. I had an entire window air conditioning unit to myself. I shut my bedroom door, diffused some heavenly smelling essential oils that a friend so generously gave me to use, and created what felt like a sanctuary. I bathed, changed my linens, listened to piano music all day. I ate meals in the rocking chair, I spent time praying and just enjoying the little space I’d created. It was honestly one of the most wonderful days I can remember. I had helped grow this child, and the next step was creating a place to greet her, Earth side. I think all of these things were important – my body and mind were at peace. I trusted in the waiting, and I followed when I felt Him nudge “it’s time.”
Night came, and brought with it gentle contractions. My midwife came and checked my progress, and then left for a little while to let me labor. She was quickly summoned back to our home, because while I take a long time to gestate, I don’t mess around when it comes to labor. After only a couple of hours, Miss Grace joined our family around one am Sunday morning. I was enamored with her pink, squishy body. Her black, sleek hair. She was here at last. After a thorough checkup for both of us, we were tucked into bed and allowed to sleep. Sweet, beautiful sleep in our safe, warm bed. She was here, and well worth the wait.
Katie Vaughn is a wonderful mother of three sweet girls. She and her family reside near beautiful
Destin, Flordia and are enjoying life near the beach.
