Having a baby at home wasn’t something that I had planned to do. Back in 2014, when I was pregnant with my 3rd child, I had a super crunchy neighbor who had had a few home births, and she introduced me to the idea of having Zaniel at home, but I ultimately chickened out because I was pretty far in my pregnancy and I felt like I wasn’t properly educated on it, and I didn’t want to take the risk. Several years later, when I was pregnant with my fourth baby, it was kind of like the perfect storm for me to have a home birth. But before we get into that, let’s explore what my first three births looked like.
My first birth was at the hospital; the birth itself was kind of shocking. The entire experience was much more than what I was prepared for-even after having taken all the Lamaze classes and reading all of the books. I had a male OB GYN who pressured me into getting my membranes stripped by rambling off some quote from some medical organization that was very much against women being pregnant beyond their due date. He wanted to strip my membranes to induce/jumpstart my labor. My due date was days away; looking back, that was so unnecessary. Membrane stripping, also known as membrane sweeping, is when a doctor or midwife inserts a gloved finger into the cervix and separates the amniotic sac or membranes from the wall of the uterus by scraping or “sweeping” them apart. This releases hormones called prostaglandins, which may help to soften the cervix and stimulate contractions, potentially leading to the onset of labor. If that sounds painful, that’s because IT IS! I remember lying on the table naked from the waist down- keep in mind I went to this doctor’s appointment thinking it was going to be a regular checkup, so I was completely unprepared for this experience. Also, keep in mind, I had no idea what the hell sweeping membranes meant until mine were swept!
Looking back, I now realize I wasn’t told the risk of the procedure, nor was I wise or confident enough to ask. I also didn’t feel like I had a choice in the matter, and as a wiser woman, the thought of that makes me sad.
When I went into labor, I was not prepared for the level of pain I experienced even though I had taken ALL the birthing classes. I went to the hospital and was quickly sent home after being told I wasn’t in active labor. I was devastated. I boohooed all the way home. A few hours later, my water broke, and when I returned to the hospital, they had the audacity to ask me if I was sure that I didn’t pee on myself. I was livid. I hated my experience at that hospital. The labor and delivery room felt so cold. The staff was cold. The hospital lights were too bright, and the concrete floors and walls were giving“jail”. When it came time to push, I asked to squat, and I was told that I couldn’t. Baffling! When they called the doctor in, I was horrified that it was not the doctor I had been seeing for my prenatal care. Some random woman who I had never met was between my legs, telling me to push. It was all too much to process. After a few hours of delirium from the pain, and after me asking the nurse to kill me- I really did ask the nurse to kill me. I just wanted the pain to stop; I finally welcomed my first baby. A chocolate baby boy with big eyes and curly hair. He was exactly what I asked God for.
The labor and delivery room felt so cold. The staff was cold. The hospital lights were too bright, and the concrete floors and walls were giving“jail”.
For my second birth, which was the birth of my daughter, it was all around awful. For starters, she was born at a military hospital in Hawaii, which had its own set of issues-outside of the issues surrounding black women and their maternal health. When I went into labor, it was midday, and it was painful. My nurse, who was also pregnant at the time, was nasty, rude, and insensitive, which was shocking because again she was pregnant! And she had terrible breath! I was going to take that part out, but hell, it’s tru
I was so uncomfortable while I was in labor. I wasn’t allowed to eat anything even though I was hungry. And I had to walk around with monitors attached to me while I walked the maternity ward to distract me from the contractions. They initially didn’t believe I was in active labor, but I demanded that they admit me. I begged for an epidural, but the nurse was very nonchalant and borderline rude while telling me that the anesthesiologist would be there soon. I asked countless times for the anesthesiologist, but I kept being blown off. I was eventually told that I wasn’t dilated enough, which I believed was impossible because of the pain I was experiencing. I kept telling the nurse that the baby was coming out, but she didn’t believe me. She didn’t believe me until I lifted my leg and she could see my daughter’s head. Then all of a sudden the staff started calling codes and taking me seriously. The doctor was barely gloved when he caught my baby. Oh, did I mention that while they were doing all that dilly-dallying they forgot to give me the meds for strep B? I was terrified that my baby was going to have complications due to their negligence! Thankfully, she was perfect.
Shortly afterward, I had unexpectedly become pregnant again rather quickly- don’t judge me, judge ya mama- naw girl, you can judge me lol. I had no business being pregnant that fast smh! I was so traumatized by my daughter’s birth that I didn’t seek any prenatal care until I was 6 months pregnant. I do not suggest you do that. I later realized that I had PTSD from my daughter’s birth and that caused me to stall seeking prenatal care because I was dreading the birthing experience. My crunchy next-door neighbor, who I mentioned earlier, introduced me to the idea of having a home birth. She gave me a few different documentaries that I watched with my husband, and they really opened my mind to the idea of having my baby at home. I no longer felt like home births were dangerous or archaic.
Ultimately, I decided that I wasn’t prepared enough to have a home birth. After finding a highly sought-after OBGYN on the island, I was pretty surprised that he took me on as a patient. I was surprised, but I was grateful. When I went into labor, I rushed to the other side of the island to head to the hospital. I was so grateful that I went into labor on a Sunday morning. The commute from my side of the island to the other is usually a two-hour drive. After my husband got off on the wrong exit, we eventually made it to the hospital.
I had previously provided the hospital with a copy of my birth plan, which explicitly stated that I didn’t want any additional staff in the room, including students; only the necessary staff and my husband were to be in the room. Imagine my surprise when, in the MIDDLE OF A CONTRACTION, a student asked if she could be in the room while I gave birth. Despite me being annoyed, I was able to politely decline the request. Did they even read my birth plan?! Nevertheless, my third child was born, and I was delighted. I have a picture of me in the hospital bed with my husband standing next to me holding the baby, and you can literally see the shock on my face from the pain- good times.
After I had decided I was done having children, I lost a bet and had to give my husband another baby. Yes, you read that right. In the height of COVID, I found myself in a bit of a dilemma. COVID was running rampant, and hospitals were very strict about how women were giving birth. They weren’t letting families in the room during or after deliveries, siblings couldn’t even visit, and women were being restricted in how they could give birth. I was so anxious about what birth would look like for me. After one of my friends had told me she had to give birth with a mask on, I immediately decided that the only way I would give birth was on my terms at my home. So I set out to find a midwife. I did not know what the process was to find a midwife, so I called around, and many of the places I chose were not taking any new patients, OR I found them sketchy. I called one of the top midwives in the Chicagoland area, and she declined my call. I left her a voicemail, and she had the nerve to send me a text message asking when my due date was and what kind of insurance I had. BABY BYE! I immediately scratched her tacky ass off my list. I was having a baby, not ordering a pair of shoes. That entire experience disgusted me. I finally came across my perfect match. I looked at independent reviews, and after a while I called them up, asked a few questions, and I was invited to come in for a visit. At the visit, I felt so at peace. The office was so cozy and cute, and it was filled with warmth. I immediately connected to the midwife team. I would come in for my scheduled visits, and after every visit I knew I had made the right choice.
On the night that I went into labor, I was not prepared for the level of pain I experienced. Keep in mind I thought that I had prepared my body enough. But I also hadn’t had a baby in 8 years, so the pain quite literally took my breath away.
I woke up around 5 am to a storm in my belly. I nudged my husband and told him it was time. I called my videographer first (she had a longer commute), then my midwife and finally my doula. My videographer got to my house at lightning speed. She captured each moment delicately and intentionally. When my midwife arrived, I was zoning out. When I reach a certain point of pain in labor, I have to disconnect my mind from my body. It’s one of the ways I cope with the pain.
While I bounced on the birthing ball, my husband prepared the birthing pool. After a few hours, I was ready to change positions, so I moved to my bedroom. I laid on my bed and put the peanut ball between my legs. It helped so much. I swear by the peanut ball during labor because it has been instrumental in getting my water to break almost every time. Once my water broke, it was go time. I waddled into the birthing pool, and Vayda got in right beside me. She was able to capture Zaccai’s birth underwater with the camera my videographer gave her. After a few moans and groans, I begged everyone in the room to pull the baby out, but we all knew this was a job only I could do. So I did it. I pushed the biggest baby I had ever had in my life out right there in my house. Not in a hospital, with strange people, but in my home filled with love, peace, familiarity, calm, and a team I trusted. Not only did I do the most spiritual thing I could’ve ever done, but I did it with my children and my husband right beside me. I felt so damn powerful when it was over. My 6 natural births are amongst my highest achievements, but there’s something about those last three home births that are so magical. I went on to have two more home births in a span of 2 years (tri-fi-lin), but I don’t regret any of it. It was during those births that I felt the most feminine, the most secure, the most powerful, and the most spiritual. The only regret I had was not having my first three kids at home. I knew that if I ever had any more babies, it would have to be at home. I just didn’t know it would be so soon.
That is the story of how I transitioned from hospital births to home births. Below is a video of the experience captured by the talented Jacinta Lagos. Hopefully one day soon I’ll share the story of my last two home births.
