I’ll Be Home (Giving Birth) for Christmas: My 3rd Birth Story

Hi. I’m back.

I had another baby, and I felt like it was only right that I come back and report on my experience!

Pre-baby me never would have guessed I would try all 3 places to have a baby: hospital, birth center, and home. But here we are!

FAQs:

Why home birth?

I knew I didn’t want to choose a hospital birth because I hated my past hospital birth experience, and I believe it is a dangerous place to give birth for different reasons. I would have chosen a birth center again, since that experience was so positive, but we moved to Missouri a couple years ago (another story for another day), and there aren’t any birth centers near our new home.

So, when it was between a home birth and a hospital birth, it was a no-brainer.

Was I scared to choose home birth?

No, not really. I already had proof I could do a natural, unmedicated birth; this way wasn’t too different.

I prayed about choosing a home birth and felt peace about the decision. I also felt specific peace over the midwife team we chose, whom we loved. I went with Glory Birth, a Christian-based homebirth midwifery practice.

Financials: What was the cost to home birth vs your other births?

I don’t think I talked about this in my other birth blog posts, but I guess I should.

We spent the most out of pocket for this at-home birth. However:

Birth #1 (Doctor, Hospital): My first hospital birth happened when we were super poor and on Medicaid. I didn’t pay anything, or maybe we paid a small copay. I just remember seeing the bill in the mail and being shocked at the roughly $15,000 of line items. (To be honest, now, I’m kind of ticked that the government is funding this kind of birth experience without better education or cheaper options available; as far as I understand, Medicaid will not cover non-traditional birth experiences.)

Birth #2 (Midwife, Birth Center): My second birth cost, I believe, $6,000 in all. That included all prenatal visits, the birth at the birth center, the in-home postpartum visits, and the in-center postpartum visits. We also paid $600 for the doula package. I don’t believe it covered my ultrasound and blood test, which had to be administered in a nearby hospital.

Birth #3 (Midwife, Homebirth): My homebirth package cost $7000, plus maybe a couple hundred in supplies for my home. We also paid for our two ultrasounds, the hospital one and one at a private imaging clinic. Most of my appointments were at their office, but with one in-home prenatal visit and one or two postpartum visits.

Pregnancy Experience

It’s hard to describe the experience of HG to someone who hasn’t had it. It’s just this… dark, depressing, anxious, frightening experience. All I wanted to do was dissociate, or go into a coma or something until the nightmare was over. Your brain doesn’t work when you’re not getting nutrients in your body. Your body is in pain and angry, both desperately hungry and explosive when fed, or even at the idea of food. I don’t know how much of the challenge is from the complete physically draining experience of not feeding your cells, or from the loss of everything that makes you well and happy, like sunshine, relationships, activities, and nature. Even things like books and music are far more draining than restorative. Being alone in your room with nothing but a screen and a barf bag is the recipe for disaster, but there are really not a lot of options.

Still, I have mastered the tricks available to me to avoid throwing up as much as possible. Mostly, trying to not be hungry. Once I could keep something down, constantly snacking (I know this is bad for other reasons, but it was what I needed at the moment) and trying to eat as much protein as I could successfully ingest (which wasn’t much).

My midwives never gave up trying new methods to help me, while not pressuring me or ever making me feel bad for my challenges.

I actively prepared far less for this birth. In hindsight, I should have considered taking another birth class and investing more time into hypnobirthing practice (which I did do, but not much until around the last month or two of pregnancy).

HG Medicine: Lamentations and Gratitude

To my great disappointment, I was again only able to discover some semblance of functionality while medicated. I fortunately had saved a few zofran pills from my first pregnancy, which got me by until I could visit an OBGYN. I had exactly one appointment with him, just enough to get an ultrasound, pregnancy confirmation (that was recognized by the hospital), and a prescription for zofran. I never went back.

I cut the tiny pills to as small as I could and still have an effect – a quarter pill worked as well as a half. It was sadly terribly constipating. I believe in avoiding medicine as much as humanly possible, but I think it was necessary for me at the time.

Maybe someday I’ll have a better answer than medicine for HG. (Shoot me any leads on this, please—particularly leads on how to go into pregnancy in a healthier state to avoid it entirely, because the natural stuff just did not cut it for me.)

Iron Deficiency Scare

At some point during pregnancy (I don’t recall when, but it was either second or third trimester), low iron levels were detected. It was just barely lower than was recommended; my midwives said if it didn’t come back up to a safer range, she would not be able to deliver me at home. With their support, I took iron supplements and ate iron-rich foods as much as possible. My levels came back up by the end of my pregnancy, so I was able to stay on track.

Weight: Achieving Maximum Size

I don’t like to obsess over weight (and for me, it was truly the least of my worries), but I know the weight gain of pregnancy is of concern and sometimes shock to new moms. Plus, I hear from mothers and grandmothers of a time when they were scolded for gaining more than 25 pounds during pregnancy, and I think it’s important to replace that kind of expectation with stories of something different.

I believe I gained the most weight during this out of all my pregnancies. Unlike some women with HG who lose weight in pregnancy (a dangerous event), my body seems to realize some threat of starvation and decides to cling onto every pound of intake it possibly can. I hardly weighed myself most of the pregnancy, but I know for certain it was at least 40 pounds—but I estimate I gained well over 50 pounds.

Miraculous Relief from Frightening Back Pain

Second trimester onward, I was experiencing a lot of pain in my lower back/sacrum area. I suspect much of this was caused by the weight gain, along with muscle atrophy. I had felt similar pain in previous pregnancies but never so acutely. Sometimes, I would stand up and suddenly feel a bolt of pain shoot around my lower back and hip area that made me instantly drop back down. Entering my third trimester, it got increasingly worse. At-home remedies like heat and massage from Matt did little to nothing.

Finally, around 34 weeks, I decided it was worth the financial hit to seek professional help. After prayerfully studying my options, I contacted Evergreen Chiropractic (now New Hope), who specializes in prenatal and pediatric care. I was skeptical but felt that this was worth trying. I was shocked when after just a couple of weeks, my lower back pain was nearly gone. I was astounded!

To my own surprise, I’m now so much a believer in chiropractic care that my whole family has been going!

Family and Church Support: Ministering Angels

I have to give much credit to the support I received through pregnancy.

My ever-loving husband was working from home, and he used that flexibility to help me through my many emergency moments to handle unruly kids when I couldn’t physically manage them, or to make meals for us when I couldn’t do it.

My in-laws took my kids for days at a time about a dozen times when I was at my lowest.

And I was most blown away by my ward.

Right now, we attend what is likely the least economically well-to-do ward we have ever been in, and members are spread farther than anywhere else we have lived. But when I missed my first week of church when the HG kicked in, the text messages from the Relief Society immediately came rolling: “Hi sister, how are you?” “Hi, we missed you today, are you okay?” “Are you sick? Can we help you?” The Relief Society President, upon discovering my plight, asked seriously, “What can we do to help? Can we bring food?” I said, “Honestly, I can’t eat regular food, and we can afford food. What I need is help with my kids. I am not well enough to take care of them properly. Is it at all possible anyone could come sometimes to help with my kids?” That amazing Relief Society sent sisters over for 2-3 hours a day, multiple days a week, to play with and tend my children while I lay incapacitated.

And then, just kidding! They’d slow and nearly disappear by bedtime.

Mom and Dad: The “Most Perfectly Timed” Trip

Based on my last births, I thought I knew exactly when I would give birth. I wanted my parents there to help me and especially to care for my kids. They booked a flight to come for the last few days of my pregnancy and stay for the first few days of postpartum and baby. It was the perfect plan.

I really am grateful they were there to help, because over and over, I thought labor was really starting, and I was able to get a little rest, or go on a relaxing walk, on those days to prepare for a delivery soon, but it never picked up.

Then came the day they had to leave, and I was still pregnant. My contractions were some 5 minutes apart, 1 minute long, for a couple hours. Today was the day… but my parents said goodbye to take an Uber to the airport. I cried in bed. I knew I would have my baby that night. Matt and I talked, and we called them to see if they would try to move their flight to stay just a few more days. My mom graciously moved her flight to Christmas Eve, and came back a couple hours later.

But tragically, by bedtime, the contractions were all but over. Again.

Christmas Eve: Catastrophe and Comedy

It was Christmas Eve. I was still pregnant, but I was having patterned contractions again. My mom was going home that afternoon.

Then, the water broke.

And by that I mean we discovered flooding in the basement. I’m not even kidding.

As we were running the washer, we discovered flooding all over the basement floor, including the carpet. Matt immediately began trying to clean everything up.

Between packing, my mom was tending to my kids while I tried to chill out through my contractions as much as I could.

Matt called an after-hours plumber to beg for help. The plumber said he knew what to do but that he would have to turn the water off.

“For how long??” Matt asked.

“Maybe an hour, maybe two,” said the plumber.

“Okay. My wife is literally in labor right now. We’re doing a home birth and may need to start filling the birth tub any minute. Is there any chance you can do it any faster?”

“Oh,” said the plumber with sincerity. “I will work as fast as I can.”

Just 30 minutes later, he told Matt, “It’s all done. I promise I did a good job, but I have never worked faster in my life.”

My mom and Matt cleaned up the rest of the water and began washing the many towels (which I was going to need during and after the delivery). Through the anxiety, my labor continued, but it did not accelerate. 

So sadly, that afternoon, I said goodbye to my mom for a second time, and she left for the airport.

That night, through contractions, and out of determination for a good Christmas and bitterness for my apparent inability to give birth, I put together a simplified version of the shepherd’s dinner we had planned for Christmas Eve. It was a simple meal. We read scriptures and listened to Christmas songs. But toward the end of the meal, I was undeniably exhausted and needed to lie down. I went to bed while Matt put kids down quickly. In my room, I timed my contractions and finally we called my midwife that it was time. She said she was on her way, and Matt began work to blow up and fill up the birth tub.

Finally, it was the real deal!

Merry Christmas: The Birth

Just a few minutes after my kids had gone to sleep, my midwife arrived with her famous big black bag, shortly followed by her assistant.

“Thanks for coming even on Christmas,” I told her, trying really hard to remember my manners (yes, I know, not the priority in labor, but habit does what it does). “I hope you’re not missing anything right now.” My midwife grinned. “My phone went off in the middle of mass.” I apologized, but we both laughed about it. “It’s just part of the job,” she said.

Between contractions, Matt was helping clean up the house. He also contacted his dad, who lives within driving distance, and asked him to come stay in the basement, ready to help watch the kids if needed.

This swiftly became my hardest labor to date. I consciously despised the many assurances I had been fed that with each subsequent labor, it goes faster. For me, that turned out to be pure lies!

I don’t know exactly the reasons why this labor took so long, started and stopped so many times, but I’m guessing there was some combination of stress and anxiety, muscle atrophy combined with the great weight gain, and baby’s misplacement and/or sheer size in the pelvis.

I experienced a new challenge this labor that I never had felt before. I call it leg labor—that is, with each contraction, I felt an aggressive cramplike pain shoot down my hip flexors and through the tops of my thighs. It was debilitating. (I still have found little about what this means or what might improve it, and my midwife also had only ever heard of such an issue. If you have information on this, please share.) The main thing that seemed to improve it: counterpressure (and a lot of it). This made it really uncomfortable to be in most positions. I wanted to spend a lot more time lying down on my side during contractions, but at least standing and leaning, someone could help push on my pressure points on my thighs, as well as my sacrum (which also hurt, but much less than my thighs).

My midwife kept trying to get me into different positions to shift baby. Once, we tried a deep lunge to my right, resting on my back knee while in the birth pool. That was the only time I didn’t feel the leg labor! I remember complaining when she asked me to switch to the other side after just one contraction, but in hindsight, I really wish I had had the presence of mind to advocate and speak out that that was the most comfortable I had been and didn’t want to move.

I moved from the toilet, to the bed, to the pool, to the floor, and back again. It was really hard work. I remember some happy moments. Listening to my favorite peaceful Christmas music and  instrumental hymns. Praying with Matt. Letting him walk me through some meditation and hypnobirthing scripts. (He got really good at making these up on the fly and having them help me just how I need.) Laughing at the increasing probability that my baby would actually be born on Christmas. Eating some sourdough bread. My midwife saying to me, “I tried some of the popcorn you made. It was fire!” And me being all hazy and barely hearing her and asking her “what?” about three times until I understood what she was saying.

I felt like I was getting really close a few times, and I felt like I was into transition, but it just kept going on. It was so painful.

Finally, probably around midnight, my midwife said she wanted to check my dilation to help assess how to move forward, but said it was my choice. I was not fully against it, and after a brief talk with Matt, we agreed. Painfully, with a lot of support, I got into position, which really hurt when the contraction hit, but it was over soon enough. I told her not to tell me unless I was a 10. She said I wasn’t. Then, she said something insane: “Your baby may be struggling to descend. I recommend trying the Miles Circuit with forward leaning inversion.” I was alarmed, annoyed, and baffled. “How can I possibly do that right now?” That felt like the stupidest idea I’d ever heard. I had done the Miles Circuit a few times in the last few weeks with Matt’s help, but I couldn’t imagine pulling it off right now. “It is possible, it’s just a little crazy,” she said calmly. Grumbling, Matt and I agreed. This was a terribly physically and psychologically strenuous activity, even with 3 people supporting me—especially when I knelt on a chair and dropped my head to the floor.

And all this effort did not do the trick. I went back to the pool to try to rest, but I was so tired and just kind of mad. It was Christmas, and I was still awake, still in labor, and still. Freaking. Pregnant.

I asked Matt to give me a blessing. He did. I don’t remember everything said, but I do remember feeling God’s love for me and my baby, and that it would be over soon. Shortly thereafter, my midwife offered to break my water. Matt and I both felt that would be a good choice. Once more, I laid on my back for one or two terrible contractions so she could break my water; then, I stood up and wanted to get to the pool. I made it there and said I just want to stand here. My midwife calmly said it’s not safe to give birth in the pool if my body isn’t literally in the water.

Then, the wave hit me, and I knew it was happening now. I dropped and knelt in the water to push. It felt like it was just 2 or 3 minutes later, but Matt said it was closer to 10. I tried to imagine my baby passing down gently and breathing down. I remember one push, and I felt his head come out. I tried to breathe and wait for the next contraction before pushing a second time. Finally, my last push. Excited. Hopeful. I knew he was almost here! I probably pushed a little too hard on accident, but I also felt so much relief. I looked down into the water and saw the sweetest, fattest, scrunchiest face. “Here’s your baby,” my midwife said, passing him to me. I reached into the water and sat back, leaning on the side of the pool. My baby cried a little, but I hugged him and rubbed his back. I tried to keep his body in the pool water until a small towel appeared to place on his back. I kept it wet with the warm water, and he quickly calmed. I was cheered and congratulated.

We laughed that he was born on Christmas, and my midwife marveled that he was so big after I had been so sick!

Postpartum/recovery

Immediate recovery

I had heard that with every subsequent delivery, you feel more after-contractions and more pain delivering the placenta. Tragically, this one was true. But honestly, I barely even cared. I wasn’t nauseous anymore, I wasn’t pregnant anymore, I was done with my labor, and I had my baby in my arms. And I had done it—home birth.

I wish, though, my midwife had not pulled my placenta out. I don’t know if there was a reason she had. But it happened. I thought my pool was bloodier than my last water birth, but I didn’t think too much about it in the moment.

I was amazed with how swiftly he started to nurse! I tried to nurse him just a few minutes after birth, and he immediately latched. He didn’t nurse long, but that was okay.

It came time to get me to the bathroom and to my bed. I felt weak, wobbly, and a little dizzy, even with assistance. Once settled into bed, they checked my vitals and discovered my blood pressure was crazy low, the lowest they’d ever seen. (I don’t remember the exact numbers, but I think it was around 70/50.) My midwife team said I needed to stay in bed, and only get up to go to the bathroom and only with assistance. I complained and said I wanted a shower; I was told that if it had gone up markedly by the time they left, I could.

They also did some fundal massage. I was braced for it to hurt more, and it did hurt, but it was mostly irritating.

We weighed my baby: over 9 pounds! Not a monster baby, but on the big end for sure, and my largest baby.

My midwife stayed a little longer than normal, still monitoring my blood pressure, then finally left me with a cuff to check it on my own periodically. She told me to call if it dropped any lower, and reiterated that I must not get up unless it went up significantly.

Matt helped me get as much sleep as possible, and he and my father-in-law took care of the kids during Christmas morning. After Matt had made sure all of us had gotten a filling breakfast, he quietly led the kids into our room to meet their baby brother. It was love at first sight, and one of the most precious and tender memories. They both wanted to hold him and hug him, and they hugged me and said Merry Christmas to me. I was so tired. They didn’t stay long, and Matt took the baby with them so I could rest some more. Matt sent me recordings of the kids opening all their Christmas presents in the next room for me to watch when I woke up. Grandma came over for a few minutes to meet baby with Grandpa, and she set up a photoshoot of my kids as Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus—something I thought was rather silly but is now one of my favorite pictures. The saddest part of the day was sending the older kids that afternoon to spend a couple days at Grandma’s house, but baby and I needed some time to rest and recover.

Later recovery

When nursing was a little painful and difficult again, I was ready to contact an independent lactation specialist the next day. I thought I would probably figure it out, but I wanted to have someone in my corner and make sure I was on the right track. I just got one in-home consultation, and it was enough to give me direction (and honestly, maybe just confidence) to move forward. I believe it cost a couple hundred dollars, but it was worth it to set us up for a year+ of nursing success.

My blood pressure did eventually go up, but it took a day or two. I needed to eat a lot of food. I especially wanted meat, and Matt made sure I got to eat whatever I wanted to.

By way of healing “down there,” I definitely had some tearing again. It was nothing like the pain after my first birth with an episiotomy, but it was more difficult than my second birth. The main things that helped me were resting a lot (both by way of sleeping and just not getting up often for the first few days and weeks) and some amazing herbal sitz baths.

It took me a long time to strengthen my core again. After a few weeks, I paid for a 12-week postpartum core workout program. I think it was very helpful, but I still progressed much slower than the program was laid out. It took me over 6 months to get to week 10 and 11, and I gave up on 12. My body just needed more time.

I think chiropractic care helped me in my recovery, too. I started going back multiple times a week after just a couple weeks postpartum and brought my baby boy, too. He has been a very healthy baby, and I have avoided a lot of my old hip pains.

However, postpartum depression and anxiety still reared its ugly head—but I don’t know how much to blame on the postpartum and how much to blame on the dark winter season and staying indoors, which is already consistently a doozy for me. My midwife gave me some maca root to try, and I swear it made a night and day difference! I took it for a few weeks until I ran out, but I was largely improved.

What do I recommend, after having done it all?

So what’s the best way to give birth? What would I tell a friend to do?

Two things are true:

#1: This is a really individual choice. I can’t tell you what to do. And…

#2: I generally recommend birthing with the assistance of a midwife. I generally do not recommend going to an OBGYN in a hospital for your birth. I think women in the US should do everything they can to birth outside the hospital system. There are options to get a safe and peaceful birth you need. 

My favorite birth experience was probably my second birth. It was so healing, and I truly believe it was less stressful, easier to heal from, and less physically difficult. I don’t think that’s mainly due to it being in a birth center, however, and the support felt similar to this home birth. I would recommend either one.

I think birth is amazing, and I still firmly believe there is hope for true, root healing for the challenges I have face in pregnancy and birth. I am praying to find those answers, and I am here sharing my experiences because I think we have lost our maternal line connection.

Have you had a home birth? Would you ever choose it? What questions do you have?