Baby Everett's Home Birth Story — Heather's Refinement

the joyful delivery of our eighth baby, after a stressful wait

You would think that as a seasoned Christian mom of many, with the last four babies being out-of-hospital med-free natural births, I would have a lot of confidence and fearlessness going into birth. But that’s not really the case.

There’s this tension between faith and fear that I live in, but especially in the last month of pregnancy:

I have complete faith that God loves me and that He works all things together for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose, and I know that His design for the female body is to birth living babies into the world,

but

I’m also acutely aware that sometimes He allows immense suffering in the lives of those He loves. And like Christ, we’re supposed to take up our cross and follow Him into that suffering, if He wills it. And it's hard not to tense up and dread that possibility.

In 2008, I tragically, suddenly lost a full-term healthy baby girl, Grace Evangeline, to a cord accident. The worst thing any pregnant mother fears had become a reality. So what do I do with that?? A pregnant mom is so attached to her unborn baby, and is forced to think about their very real existence at all hours of the day and night. I can’t ignore them or wait to love them once they’re safely on the outside of my body. And I can’t go into labor cheerfully sure that everything is going to be OK.

Why do I still get stuck in this mental rollercoaster after six perfectly healthy deliveries, the last being Rose’s blissful and perfect birth?! My body has proven to be a safe home for babies more often than not! And I know that God’s normative design for women is to birth babies and fill the earth!

***

This pregnancy flew by without complaint, far more quickly than the other seven, because I was so busy with a full house of children. I’d started pregnancy 10 pounds lighter this time after almost a year of exercising five days a week and feeling stronger than ever. And at the end of third trimester, I’d had great blood pressure readings, great iron level, great glucose test, great ultrasound scan, great energy levels. But nearing 40 weeks, the fears had certainly crept in anyway.

I was getting very concerned about having an enormous baby and fearful about not being able to push him out, or having to transfer to a hospital for pain. Baby boy looked pretty large in there, and his positioning had been wonky (sunny-side-up) for a week or two. To try and move the baby into a better position for labor, I’d been doing Spinning Babies inversions and the Miles Circuit, and started getting daily chiropractic. But there’s always the question of whether a bad position means the baby is tangled in their cord and unable to properly descend. Between my history of loss, and my history of massive babies (Wesley was 10 lbs 8 oz, and he came one day before his due date), I was in a bad place mentally.

On top of that, my ankles were swelling, which they never have in any of my other pregnancies. And my age (41), which had never worried me before, started some “what ifs” swirling in my mind.

But also around this time, my midwife was being called to other women’s labors, which made me extremely anxious that she wasn’t going to make it to my birth. Wesley’s birth needed assistance because of his size, and if this baby was big and badly positioned, I’d need her help again! Unassisted birth has never been my plan.

Right before 40 weeks, I started having strong (but not painful) contractions every 10 minutes. They kept going all day and night, as I passed the due date and beyond. For a week straight, I was dealing with these annoying pre-labor contractions. I kept waking up at 2 or 3 a.m. with uncontrollable shivers and shakes, thinking I MUST be in transition and about to push the baby out. I was having dreams that I *was* pushing the baby out right there in bed. Three days overdue, I actually called the midwife in the middle of the night, and had her assistant Bethanie come check to make sure I wasn’t actually in active labor! Alas, I wasn’t.

Looking and feeling large, at 40 weeks and 3 days

On that same night, Lochlan came to our room asking if he could take an aspirin, because one of his front teeth was in immense pain. Bizarre. The kid has had lots of recent dental and orthodontist appointments and scans, and no sign of problems had been noticed. This problem intensified in the following days...

A day later, the grandparents took all the kids to their houses to give me and Jeff a little mental break. Maybe the quiet would send me into labor. Jeff and I went out to a nice restaurant, but I wasn’t able to eat more than a few bites of food at a time, and I was worried about the baby not getting enough protein to stave off preeclampsia. Every step anywhere made me wonder if my water would break and I’d have to give birth in the car.

Meanwhile, Lochlan was calling us from the grandparents’ house, saying his mouth pain was unbearable.

In the morning, 40w5d, my mom called us saying that our 4-year-old Colette was lethargic and her eyes were rolling back in her head, and that we should come quickly. Her big sisters confirmed that it looked like she was having a mini seizure or something. We hopped right in the car, carrying along a towel in case baby came, knowing also that there’s no cell reception the entire drive to Fredericksburg. I planned to take Colette straight to the hospital, and maybe check myself in there too, if active labor came on.

When we arrived at my mom’s, Colette was starting to wake up, and had drunk three glasses of water and eaten a few bites of cereal. But she was still not herself, and her head kept dropping to the side. Maybe she’d been dehydrated after a day of hard play in the hot sun? Or was this a flu? We brought her home and she slept most of the afternoon away. By evening, she was completely rejuvenated and bouncing around again, as if nothing unusual had happened. What a day.

That evening, Lochlan’s face started to swell. First it was just his lips, so we gave him some Benadryl. Then it got really bad. The whole cheek was swelling. We looked over his teeth and gums again, and did not see any sign of decay or infection or redness! Was this an allergic reaction?? Jeff took him to the ER and they said it looked like a gum infection and gave an antibiotic. I was skeptical, but it was the weekend and we couldn’t see a dentist.

Sunday morning, 40w6d–almost a week overdue–I was basically beside myself. Was I going to have an 11-pound baby? Twelve pounds? The pre-labor contractions were nearly constant, I’d lost my plug, and I couldn’t handle anymore of this. I was worried about my kids. I needed something happy to happen.

I had our midwife come visit, skip her church service, and make sure the baby was ok, check his positioning, check dilation, and confirm I wasn’t already in labor. She did a stretch-and-sweep that took me to 6 cm. And she prayed with me.

My mom took the kids back home with her, except Lochlan, whose puffy face now looked like a character from the Grinch. A blister had formed over his gums, they were turning black, and several of his adult teeth were LOOSE! The antibiotic was doing nothing. Lochlans emergency led us to another ER, this time in Fairfax, at the hospital where Lochlan was born. Maybe they could get us an x-ray or IV antibiotics??

It was a gloomy, gross, drizzling, sticky day, and we were becoming increasingly worried that something truly unusual was going on with him. He was in agony. But the doctor there was snippy and annoyed with us, saying we just needed to wait for the antibiotic to do its work.

That evening, my every-10-minute contractions that I’d had for a week, continued on boringly, and I took a hot shower to wash off the hospital germs and get spring pollen out of my hair. By 11, Jeff and I went reluctantly to bed, another day without the baby being born.

No more than twenty minutes after I laid down and drifted off, I felt the baby’s head bump downward hard! It was like he was headbutting his way out! Two minutes later, another headbutt! A few minutes later, I was jolted again, and this time I got on all fours in bed to try and get more comfortable. Nope, that didn’t help. On the next head-ramming, I hopped out of bed and stood next to it hunched over. Jeff said groggily, “What are you doing??” I made a plan to get to the bathroom with the next one, but I didn’t have much time between these intense sensations. I said I was in labor for sure. “Get Kelly to come now!”

I sat in our dark bedroom (ah, the beauty of darkness and privacy in homebirth) in the rocking chair, which I felt glued to, and the contractions started coming every 5 minutes, then every 4 minutes, then every 3. They were lasting long, sometimes 2 minutes or more!

From previous births, I remembered to just focus on the progress they were making, and think how it was just a muscle squeezing. The more positive I feel about it, the less I perceive it as pain. And the less painful it actually becomes! I always attempt to smile and tell myself that “this is fun!” once or twice. I ran on the Cross Country running team in high school, and have always sort of enjoyed the challenge of physical endurance!

In thirty minutes, the nurse midwife, Bethanie, arrived–Hallelujah!--and by that point I was completely in labor-mode with my eyes closed. I felt like I could finally relax that support was here and my body could now do its thing.

The niggling fears kept cropping up, though. I was most worried about the pushing getting stalled or the baby getting stuck, though I probably couldn’t have put that into words then. I started to focus on a few verses in scripture. They’re probably not the most common ones for labor, because they don’t touch on fear. I was more in maternal sacrifice mode – I was going to give this baby the best chance at life that I could give him, no matter how painful it was to me, even if I lost my own life doing it. Maybe that’s irrational, but birth is such an extreme event, forcing you to face both life and death.

One verse is 1 Timothy 2:15 “ But women will be saved through childbearing—if they continue in faith, love and holiness with propriety.”

I take this to mean that it’s women’s noble role to bear children (if we’ve been blessed with marriage and fertility), that it’s our primary means of sanctification and fulfillment, but we need to do it in faith as unto the Lord. In labor, this gave me purpose – birth was God-ordained; it was for Him!

Likewise, verses in Titus 2 and 1 Timothy 5 encouraged me that God has called me to bear children and raise them and manage my household well. This is my job and I need to do it faithfully. I’m in this, like it or not, and it’s my duty.

***

A few minutes before 1 a.m. Bethanie suggested Jeff fill up the bathtub, if I still wanted a water birth, which I definitely did. However, the tub makes it real! For me, the warm water is for pushing – it helps with stretching the skin and preventing tearing.

Dipping into the warm, cozy iron tub, I wondered if the contractions would slow down like they had with Wesley’s birth, when I had to get out every few minutes to make them come back. But I’d forgotten how much prelabor my body had already done over the past week! My body was about ready to shoot baby out like a pulled-back slingshot.

Contractions stayed intense and close together for one hour in the tub, during which I was getting a little bored, frustrated, and lonely, and needed some pep! I asked Jeff for some worship music, and the “Let us Worship” album, that we’d heard live in Washington, DC in 2020, seemed right for this moment.

Instead of thinking about contractions, I was able to focus on the joy of following Jesus, the mountains trembling at His authority and power, singing in the storm, up from the ashes hope will arise, I will raise a hallelujah in the middle of the mystery, and fear losing its hold on me!

All of this is for King Jesus! Every pain, every breath! I’ll glorify God and enjoy Him forever!

And that got me straight through transition!

Sometime during all of that, midwife Kelly had arrived and she’d been periodically checking baby’s heart rate with the doppler.

I started feeling nauseated and needing something to change. I was ready to see that baby’s face.

Like the last three births, Kelly quietly, stoically reminded me that I could try to push and see how it felt. YEAH, I wanted to!

It felt like one push to see if I could…and I asked Jeff to roll up a towel at the bottom of the tub for me to push against…then one push that broke my water with a big wave into the bath…one big push to get out the head…and another to get out the body!

Once the pushing begins, I want it over fast! I’ve still never felt the ring of fire, and I’m happy to keep it that way.

I had to get a couple gulps of air before I could take baby from the midwife, but out he came crying immediately, and when I held him he was just stunningly perfect with a rounded head and square jawline beneath squishy cheeks. “Thank you, Jesus!” we all repeated!!! It was only 2:15 a.m.!

(Lochlan, down the hall, my first child to ever be home during a sibling’s birth, woke up hearing Everett’s first cries!)

None of my fears about the birth had come even remotely true! Like Rose’s blissful birth, I never felt like saying, “I can't do this!” and I never had contractions that were unbearably painful. Pushing felt almost exactly the same. The entire active labor with Everett was about three hours, which was definitely my fastest! Possibly my easiest! And this baby was just perfect.

He was a strong nurser from the very first suck, only a minute or two after he was born! The nursing produces contractions which tell the placenta to detach and the uterus to begin its shrinking. God has designed this beautifully. The cord turned fully white, having transferred all of its blood back to Everett, and Jeff was able to then cut it. And once again, the mess of birth was contained in the bathtub. I was moved to the bed and I didn’t feel dizzy, no ‘seeing stars’, and I drank loads of water and some rehydration drink.

We’ve now had three babies in this house, since moving in four years ago in 2020! It’s extra funny considering we thought we were “done” having kids before building the home with five total bedrooms, back when we had two boys and two girls. Our cup runneth over!

Snuggled in bed, I was bursting with curiosity about his weight. I had definitely looked like I’d been carrying twins, but Everett didn’t look as big as Wesley had. We were guessing around nine pounds. But tada–he shocked us by not only hitting 10 pounds, but going seven ounces beyond! Just one ounce less than Wesley!

My goodness, I make HUGE BABIES. I remember being 13 years old, and complaining to my mom about my wide hip bones that were forming, and she would say how that was perfect for holding babies. I think my babies just like to completely fill that space before deciding it’s time to exit my body! And now I know for sure that it’s not more painful than other baby sizes (Colette was my most difficult birth, and she was more than a pound less than Everett.)

The midwives did a full inspection of Everett, looked over the placenta, and checked my vitals. Everything was just excellent. So with smiles and hugs, my birth team left us to sleep before the sun came up, just how you imagine it to go in a storybook.

Chunky Everett’s first official photo, after midwives had left, and he was already going to sleep for the night!

***

Everett’s birth story wouldn’t be quite complete without telling the drama that ensued with his biggest brother, the hours after he was born.

When he woke on Everett’s birthday morning, Lochlan was so swollen, he was barely recognizable, and the swelling was scarily close to his eye and ear. I was concerned about not only him losing his teeth, but him losing sight, hearing, or worse…his life. You just do not play around with infections this close to the brain. Yet two ERs had been flippant about it! Jeff called a local emergency dental office who could get him seen right away.

They left me and Everett at home, and my sister, Hannah, was able to stay with me in case of hemorrhage or other post-birth complications.

The orthodontist had sent previous x-rays over to the dentist, and after looking at those and his mouth, and determining that the infection had become cellulitis, he said this was completely odd and Lochlan needed to be seen by a surgeon STAT. Thank the LORD, the surgeon was able to see him immediately and got Lochlan in for a CT scan.

When Jeff called and told me that, my postpartum mom brain went to the worst case scenarios – Did he have a brain tumor? Cancer? A blood clot? Were we going to lose him? Did God just give me a baby boy to replace my oldest son?! I felt so sick over it. We all started to pray.

But Lochlan wasn’t going to die. The scan did show a crazy anomaly–a bizarre formation of a tooth-within-a-tooth. When his adult tooth had formed years ago, another tooth had formed inside it! And that open system had been like a cave where bacteria could multiply and hide undetected for years. So that’s why we didn’t see any cavity or darkness on the outside of the tooth. Something must have happened to knock that area and release the bacteria into the gums, causing the sudden explosive infection…which could have been deadly if not for xrays!

The oral surgeon gave him two choices: remove the tooth and drain the infection from his face right away or in a few days. There was no benefit to waiting, and a few days wait might mean some of our worst fears could come true. So really, there was no choice.

An adult front upper tooth, which majorly affects how he looks, would have to be immediately removed. Jeff called to tell me Lochlan was going in for surgery. Lochlan was so brave and didn’t mourn it, but knew how critical this was.

Within a few hours, Lochlan was home, alive, but with a gaping hole in his smile. He still had more loose adult teeth and wasn’t in the clear with infection, but the worst was past. I had a rocky postpartum, sad and worried for my Lochlan, and it took me weeks to fully exhale and begin to freely enjoy newborn days.

***

Everett has been my easiest baby to date, and now we’re just in utter and total bliss with him. He stares up into my eyes intensely all day, and is generous with his smiles and coos. There are days I can barely look at him without tearing up. I feel so undeserving. God has been good to us. Here we are as parents to a healthy newborn again at age 41!