Welcome to our journey of meeting our son, Beau Atlas Calhoun.

My Desire for a Home birth

I’ve always been fascinated by birth. I’ve long known that I wanted an un-medicated birth, and I knew that the most supportive environment for this type of birth would be out of the hospital. With my daughter, we had labored at home until 10 cm dilated and then delivered at the birth center. This time around, I knew I wanted to complete the birth at home. 

The weeks leading  up to his birth were very different than those with my daughter. We didn’t take birth classes this time around, and I sure didn’t have time to create birth playlists, food for labor/postpartum, pick out a cute labor/postpartum outfit or “first day” baby clothes, or listen to any birth meditations or stories. Plain and simple- life was busy and I wasn’t in the mindset for birth. 

I was simply praying baby would stay settled until at least our due date, as I had patients scheduled all the way up until that time. 

There were several weeks where I was convinced I was going fo have the baby early-I felt pelvic pressure on all of our walks and my Braxton Hicks were consistent and strong. In addition to that, my fundal height had been measuring quite small, and there became concern about IUGR. As I waited for my sonogram at 37 weeks to check on the health of baby, I had prepared myself for receiving news that I’d have to be induced due to poor nutrient delivery resulting in inadequate growth. I was pleasantly surprised when the ultrasound tech said quite the opposite- he was above the 50th percentile! For our genetics and with a fundal heigh measuring up to 4 cm small- this was a shock!

The Waiting Game

Christmas and my due date had passed and I was finally getting in the mindset for delivery. I reached out to my friend, Morgan, and asked for all her birth wisdom and preparation recommendations, I cleaned the house from top to bottom, I finished all work related tasks, and I spent as much quality time as possible with my daughter. I had gone late with Mya (41+4), so I wasn’t as anxious about going “late,” but I sure wasn’t expecting it either. 

As the days passed, my anticipation grew. I began doing everything in my power to prepare for this birth. Baby had been in a suboptimal position leading up to this time, which threatened a long and difficult early labor.I desperately wanted  to avoid a long stop and go labor, so I religiously did all the maneuvers my midwives had instructed, walked 1-2 times/day, and avoided sitting or reclining as much as possible. Mentally, I chatted with my close friends about their birth experiences, devoured content from @builttobirth, watched home birth videos, and practiced my breathing. It’s an odd feeling- a mixture of:

• pure excitement as you wait for the arrival of the little human who has been living within you for the last 9.5 months.

• curiosity about the journey- wondering how this time will differ from the last, if it’ll be as magical as you’re imagining, or if complications will arise.

• And honestly- anxiety about outrageous amount of pain you will endure in the process .

Preeclampsia or COVID

At 41 weeks, I started feeling off. Maybe I was just tired, but I felt an inner intuition to check my blood pressure. I grabbed my manual cuff and was shocked to see a reading at 136/92, 143/86, 138/94… I took it again, and again, and again- only to get similar results.

I contacted my midwife immediately- we shared the same concern. Might I be developing pre-eclampsia? I knew it was a greater risk the later pregnancy went on. I knew it could mean the need for a medical induction. More than that, I knew it presented significant risk for the health of both mom and baby. As I laid in bed with my husband with eyes filled with tears, I explained to him the implications of these findings. We discussed the plan put forward by our midwife, he reassured me that everything would be okay, and we immediately went into action with herbs and nutrients intended to lower my blood pressure.

The next morning, we had planned to meet my midwife at the office at  7 am to check my blood pressure and run labs. She texted me at 6:30 asking if she could call— I knew something was wrong. When I called, she let me know that she didn’t feel well and needed to test for COVID before she could see me. Our student midwife would be meeting us instead. 

As my husband and I drove to our appointment, we once again prepared ourselves for the idea of a medical induction at the hospital. Similar to our sonogram experience at 37 week- we were beyond surprised and ecstatic to find that I must have had a faulty blood pressure cuff — my readings on 2 separate cuffs in office were completely normal, while my home cuff in office was reading high. I could now rest easy… I could return to the waiting game.

The next day, I received a call from my midwife- she had tested positive for COVID. She let me know she would not be able to attend my birth, and we discussed who would be taking her place. While I had 💯 trust in her replacement, I was still saddened to know she wouldn’t be at my birth. One of the main joys of a home birth is knowing that the woman who will deliver your baby is the woman who has been there with you through all the ups and downs over the past 9 months. She is the woman who you selected at the beginning of this all, the woman who has created a safe space for you to process all of your emotions surrounding life and birth, and the woman who has felt, watched, and listened to this little life grow month after month. But atlas, this was the season. The season of OMICRON- and the season of surrender.

The next day we came into the office to meet our new midwife. She spent 90 minutes with us reviewing all of our questions has concerns, and we felt such a peace- we knew we were in good hands.

41+4: I was starting to get anxious about the looming 42 week mark, so I decided to go in for acupuncture induction. As I was lying on the bed a little over 1/2 way through my treatment, an alarm on my phone started to sound. My acupuncturist handed me my phone to turn off the alarm, and I noticed a text from my student midwife- “Can I call you”

I had been waiting on my labs from earlier in the week, and had a feeling this was the call delivering the bad news. While my blood pressure was okay in office, it was still higher than typical. I didn’t continue to take it, knowing it would likely further increase my stress. I feared this was the call sharing the news that my labs did indeed show signs of preeclampsia. 

Yet again, I started to process the reality of going to the hospital for a medical induction. Tears steamed down my cheeks for the last 15 minutes of my treatment. My acupuncturist and I prayed, and I left for home to call my student midwife with my husband by my side.

They still had not received the results of my labs… a huge sigh of relief. So what was the news? My second midwife (who we had spent 90 minutes with the day prior) had now come down with COVID.  They were not sure who would fill her place, but even worse- If I tested positive, I would not be able to deliver at home and I would be forced to follow the dreaded hospital COVID policy. 

The next day we met our third midwife. Again, we were met with an overwhelming sense of peace- we knew we were in great hands. However, my 42 week mark was quickly approaching. I was now 41+5, and if I didn’t go into labor soon I wouldn’t be able to deliver at home.  My midwife went forward with stripping my membranes (which had induced my previous labor), and we discussed castor oil induction should this fail. 

The Induction

I had high hopes for going into labor that evening, but we walked and waited and prepared- and I showed no signs of  impending labor. My husband and I had a lot of hesitations surrounding the use of castor oil, as we had only known friends to have negative experiences, but we also knew it was our last option at a home birth. 

We discussed all the potential outcomes of a failed castor oil induction, we created a plan for emergency and voluntary hospital transfer, and I spent time praying about this decision. I went to bed with a great sense of peace- knowing that this is what I wanted to do. 

The next morning I woke at 41+ 6 with anxious anticipation - I did not know the details of the journey we were about to start, but … . I knew I was about to do the hardest work of my life…and I knew I was about to meet my child.

We prepped the house for the birth and I sent my husband to the store for the ingredients for the castor oil induction. When he returned, I put 1/2 cup of castor oil in the blender with frozen pineapple chunks, ice, and cold water. It was time to start this process. My midwives said that the body would start to reject the oil with time, so it was important that it was consumed quickly. I sat down and started to spoon the frozen pineapple sorbet into my mouth as quickly as possible. Once finished, I felt a rush of endorphins- there was no going back-It’s now time to wait.

LABOR

I began making some chicken soup to keep my mind occupied while hopefully providing some post-birth nourishment. Within 30 minutes,  I was experiencing cramping and diarrhea. Initially, I wasn’t sure if I was going into labor— or if this was just bowel distress from the castor oil— but within 60 minutes the cramping was becoming more rhythmic. By 90 minutes, my contractions were every 3 minutes and I had let my midwives know labor was starting.

I started some worship music and laid in my bed with the lights off. I needed some quiet time to allow my mind and body the opportunity to prepare for the upcoming hours. I knew lying down too long could stall labor, so I only took 15-20 minutes before I got up to start walking around. As I did this, the time between contractions were shortening. Before long, they were about 2 to 2.5 minutes apart and lasting for roughly 60 seconds.  When you time contractions, you time from the start of a contractions to the start of the next- which meant, I only had 60 -90 seconds to recoup between each.

This pace did not take me by surprise- just as I had with my daughter, my body went right into active labor. Contractions were close and intense- my body knew what to do. I was just hoping that active labor wouldn’t last 12 hours- like it did with my previous birth. The surges were intense, and I felt best on my feet. I kept walking, taking breaks to rock, breathe, and moan with each surge. 

For the first two hours, I was still in and out of reality. I’d pop into the kitchen to give my husband the next steps required for finishing the soup or to see my daughter. Thanks to the help of castor oil, I was also spending a good amount of time in the bathroom emptying everything out of my bowels. At this point, it was essentially oil and water in the toilet. I knew dehydration was the biggest risk of castor oil, so my husband would regularly fill my water bottle with ice cold electrolytes and remind me to drink between surges.

At the 2 hour mark, my moaning became louder and I knew I couldn’t manage the emotions of my daughter and the intensity of the contractions, so I told my husband to let my mother know that she needed to keep Mya distracted. I also knew I needed my husband’s touch more. The only comfortable position was standing, but my legs were becoming weak. My husband acted as my support, allowing me to hang on him and sway with me during the surges. Contractions lengthened- lasting 90 seconds and continued to come every 2 minutes. At this point, I had roughly 30 seconds to breathe before another surge would hit. After an hour of this, I looked at my husband and let him know it was time to ask the midwives to come. I was either going to have this baby soon OR I needed the reassurance that I could continue at this pace.

The surges were so intense that I felt I needed to channel that energy into another object. I began trying to squeeze a brush, my husbands arm, or the bathroom console through each surge. Then a contraction came where I felt the unbearable need to grunt and bear down. As I dug my nails into my husband, we both knew what this meant- it was time to push. 

Though our midwives had still yet to arrive, I listened to my body and pushed through the next two contractions. As I began to push for the fourth time, our student midwife came through the door and I could let out a sigh of relief. 

We moved from the bathroom into the bedroom and at the next contraction, my water broke. It felt like seconds before she told me to reach down and feel his head. The ring of fire was more intense than I had remembered, and everything in me wanted him out as quickly as possible. As I was pushing and screaming, my midwife asked me to take a breath—“his hand is by his face,” she said- “I need you to slow down and  breathe.” She and I both knew that pushing too fast and to hard could result in trauma for both, so I listened and allowed my body to guide me. Soon our main midwife arrived and within 5 minutes as I stood next to my bed, he was born. Our healthy 8lb 9 ounce baby had arrived at 2:17 pm after 4 hours of labor.

At that point, we still did not know the gender - as I cried and my body shook from the shock of labor, I remember asking over and over- what is it, what is it. Everyone giggled because I was holding him so close to my body that it was difficult for anyone to get a good look. My husband finally announced with great excitement- “it’s a boy. “

The Aftermath- My Fear Came True

I was never afraid of birth or complications with my daughter, but during her birth I had experienced a significant amount of blood loss afterwards. This time around, I was more acutely aware that hemorrhaging was a possibility. I discussed this with my midwives in the weeks leading up to my birth, as we watched my platelets and ferritin drop despite consuming crazy amounts of red meat, liver, sesame seed oil, alfalfa, and iron. We went through the various levels of intervention that we may need to utilize in order to stabilize the blood loss. I felt comfortable with the plan, but my husband and I both discussed that we were not going to take any chances- if I required a transfer- we would not hesitate.

As predicted the blood loss began to pick up greatly right after I birthed my placenta. I started to feel off-like I just wanted to go to sleep. My husband held our son as he watched the color start to leave my face. I was hemorrhaging, and It was time to start the interventions. Soon after the Pitocin injection, my midwife looked at me and sternly said “Ari, you have to let us know how you feel.” As she was speaking, I began to feel very fuzzy and my ears began ringing loudly. “Do you want us to call 911.” Though everything inside me did not want to go, I knew it was time to call. As my midwife grabbed for her phone to make the call, my student midwife lifted my legs into the air. This maneuver worked- the ringing stopped and I began to gain back an improved level of consciousness. “Wait,”I said—- “I’m feeling better.” They started an IV and moment by moment I began to feel better and better.  My fear came true- I had hemorrhaged and lost a considerable amount of blood, but thanks to my amazing midwives- I was stabilized quickly and able to stay at home to recover. Soon we were able to invite my daughter in to meet her new baby brother,  and we were all able to snuggle in bed as I had imagined. 

The next following hours and days were difficult, but also some of the most magical. Due to the blood loss, I was bed-bound, requiring help to bathe and walk to the restroom, but I had my dream birth and our son was finally here. I couldn’t be more thankful for my incredible midwives and husband for all the ways they supported me through this journey.  Our family felt complete, but if we ever decide to do this again, I’m praying for a scenario just like this one.