I want to start by telling you this…

This is MY story and the story I believe God had His perfect hand in. If your birth story looks different, I love that. Let’s embrace it. I pray that you don’t read mine and wish something different about your own. I pray that you don’t read mine and wish something different for me. I love my story. It’s not what I had envisioned at all but it is mine and I’m so excited to share it.

I’ve kept this entire story to myself (except for friends and family) because I just wanted to hold onto it for as long as possible. It’s one of the most beautiful things that has ever happened to me and I needed almost an entire year to put it into words, process it and work through all the emotions that go along with it.

Second, I support any way a woman wants to birth. I do believe that education is very important and that we should educate to empower ourselves and make the best choice possible. I also think there are choices for a reason. Choices so that if you want to go all natural you can. Choices so that if you have had trauma and you feel most safe and comfortable in a hospital with an epidural, you can. The choices cover the entire spectrum and I think the most important thing is not what you choose but that you had the opportunity and education so you could.

Third, and finally, I want to tell you that my story may seem “traumatic” or you may be tempted to say, “oh, my gosh, I can’t believe you survived that” but I have never labeled it anything other than beautiful in my mind. And no, I’m not being naive and choosing to not look at all the things people have told me are traumatic. I see them and I still think it is absolutely the most beautiful and empowering thing that I’ve ever done. So, if you ever hear a woman’s birth story, Please, please, don’t say “wow that must have been traumatic” unless she labels it that way first. It poisons our mind, it casts a shadow on our story and we have to fight really hard to get it back to the pure and perfectly messy, beautiful image and experience that it was.

So, with that, here is the birth story of my beautiful Bowen. I’ve written it in small pieces and sprinkled in some pregnancy memories so that you can easily digest it all.

Enjoy, sweet friend.

To begin, here is the video where I find out I’m pregnant:

On June 13th, 2018, I was almost an entire week overdue. Lord help me. It was one of the hottest and driest summers on record here in our little valley. My sweet and selfless mother tended to my every whim as I sat miserably in my underwear and a sports bra (is it a sports bra if you’re not actually ever doing sports?) moving back and forth on my birthing ball, praying and trying to will my child out of me.

She made every meal, cleaned all the things, bought all the things, cut my hair, trimmed my toenails (an impossible feat when I was so huge!) among what I’m sure is a very long list of things I can’t even remember. She also would painstakingly roll my compression socks onto my giant swollen feet while I laid on the couch and laughed that this was now my life. We have a video of it. it’s my favorite. You’re welcome.

Because I was a week overdue I had an appointment at the Birth Center (Bloomin’ Babies in Grand Junction… HIGHLY recommend). So, I filled up my GIANT water jug, put on my ugly sandals (they were the only ones left that would fit me, thanks wal-mart) and heaved myself into the seat of our car for what I hoped would be my last appointment.

Russell met my mom and I at the birth center and they did all the usual checks. My midwife looked over the results of my urine test (don’t miss taking those!) and then took my blood pressure. After taking it she seemed slightly concerned. It wasn’t dangerously high but higher than what it should be. It could be the heat, she thought, but she wanted to do a stress test on the baby just in case.

I laid down in their comfy bed as they hooked me up to the monitor. I prayed, “please Lord let everything be okay”. It was. Baby (we chose not to know the gender) was perfectly fine. She took my blood pressure again and decided I should go to St. Mary’s Hospital (approx. a 1 minute drive away) for a blood test to be sure pre-eclampsia hadn’t developed later in my pregnancy.

So, some-what nervously, we walked over to St. Mary’s and the very grumpy nurse drew my blood (dear sweet grumpy nurse, I hope you have since found happiness). All I could do after that was wait for my midwives to call me and tell me the results.

We waited for hours and right around 6:30 pm my midwife Jeana called me. It was pre-eclampsia. She said we had caught it very early and there was nothing to stress about but I would need to be induced at St. Mary’s immediately.

I cried on the phone and she comforted me as we made a plan to meet at the hospital. Thankfully I had been VERY prepared and packed for months in advance just in case. We grabbed the suitcases, made sure the car seat was ready and we were off.

At this point I was a bit crushed that my dream of a Birth Center birth had been taken away so quickly. But, I had also done so many birth mantras and visualizations that I was okay and amazingly calm. I thank God that He gave me peace because I am typically a very anxious person. I wanted a healthy me and a healthy baby. I had taken a very intensive birth class (The Bradley method) with Russell and I attribute so much of our education, empowerment and peace about everything to this class. It gave us the knowledge to know we had a choice and what choices we wanted to make. We knew what could happen with pre-eclampsia and we had already decided what interventions we would give in to and what we wouldn’t. Russell knew to be my advocate while I was seemingly on another planet in my mind giving birth. We were not panicked… just adjusting to our new plan.

We arrived at the hospital and after going to the wrong door and getting completely confused (meanwhile I’m completely out of breathe for having to walk more than 3 feet) we finally made it inside. We met Jeana and quickly got the induction process started.

First, they tried to start as naturally as possible with a saline bulb that would help to open me up and signal my body to get started. It hurt REAL BAD but I was actually able to sleep for a while once I got used to the minor contractions.

Soon after I had woken up they looked at my contractions and determined they would need to start me on a lesser version of pitocin since I wasn’t progressing fast enough. Once that started, the contractions increased in intensity, so I laid down in the tub that had been prepared by our sweet nurse (she even had little LED candles all over the bathroom). I listened to my birthing playlist and tried to relax as much as I could. Sweet Russell fell asleep on the floor next to me.

Once I was ready to get out they brought me a warm towel that I’m convinced was sent straight from heaven. I didn’t want to leave it.

I moved from the tub to the birthing ball, to standing, to the bed, to the toilet, to the tub again. Somewhere in there I lost my mucus plug (Praise the Lord there was a sign of progression!).

The contractions were getting very intense at this point and my sweet husband was giving me visualizations of beaches we had been to, rainforests and waterfalls. He was honestly my angel. He kept my mind focused, calm and comforted. When he needed a break, my mama took over, stroking my hair and telling me stories from my childhood and how proud she was of me.

At one point I remember sitting on the ball, moaning and yelling (I am apparently a VERY vocal birther) to get me through contractions. As the waves came I would grab onto Russell’s shirt so tightly even the nurses commented that they weren’t sure how I hadn’t ripped it yet… haha. oops.

I remember Russell answering a question from our nurse and simultaneously a contraction was coming. I screamed at him for talking to other people and not paying attention to me (hahahaha). He very politely drew all his attention back to me and helped me through. You really are in another reality during labor.

We were asked if we wanted to break my water to try and progress things but that was an intervention we had decided to decline. Russell declined for me as I worked through another contraction. They had to up my dose of pitocin and then my contractions really intensified.

I was offered nitrous oxide to ease my pain and I said, “yes, please, anything”. So they taught me how bringing the mask to my face and breathing it in had to be timed perfectly with the coming of each contraction. The nurse and Russell helped me lay into bed.

I don’t know what came over me but I’ve never been so laser focused in my life. I remember being so in-tune with my body and feeling the exact moment I needed to breathe into the mask to take in the gas. My legs were still writhing in pain and I knew that I was in pain but my brain was just floating on a little happy cloud without a care in the world.

The gas came to me at the perfect time. It was the transition phase where contractions were one on top of the other. I don’t know if I would have made it without an epidural had I not had the gas to ease the pain and rest my mind. After hours and hours of intense contractions, I was so tired. It also gave Russell some rest as well. I was exhausted but this was just the break I needed from the waves of intense pain.

Soon, my midwife told me, “I’m going to go check on another patient so come get me if you are ready to push.” I thought, “Ready to push? I’ve never done this before. How the heck am I supposed to know?” Oh girl, you know. you really know.

Soon after she left I felt the urge to push and Russell called a nurse to find my midwife. I was on my knees in the bed at this point, sipping on a honey stick and water for energy any chance I could. I was breathing in the gas as my contractions came and trying to figure out this new sensation of needing to push.

She checked and I was at 9 cm dilated. My midwife told me if I could hold off on the urge to push it would help me in the end. So I rolled over, continued the gas and practiced all my “opening” and relaxation techniques I could think of in the moment. Please, Lord let this baby come soon.

After a while of trying to relax and telling my body to be open I was ready to push. I’m convinced that so much of labor is mental, it’s amazing what your brain can convince your body to do. I was SO tired and I kept saying that I couldn’t do it. I was on my knees but just kept wanting to collapse and lay down in the bed. Soon they all helped me turn over and I grabbed onto bars above me they had attached to my bed. The nurses had situated my bed in such a way that I was basically upright with a slight recline and squatting while holding on to the bars with my hands. I was so tired but it was time to push so I mustered up every ounce of strength the Lord had given me and began pushing.

My midwife was amazing… describing what I should feel and the right way to push. Baby was getting closer. Soon baby was crowning and I was screaming. I think this was the only time I was truly in panic while I was in labor, which is natural. It was such an intense pain and I was screaming “SOMEONE HELP ME. PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME.” haha. Russell had to calmly remind me that I was in a hospital and there were about 3 nurses, a midwife, my mom and him to all help me.

With a few more pushes my baby was finally in the world. Russell got to announce, “IT’S A BOY!”. The thought of this moment still makes me cry. I just wanted a baby. I remember taking him immediately to my chest and saying “my baby my baby my baby” over and over. I remember telling him, “I believe you” as he cried. I told him that I was so sorry I had to evict him but that I needed him to be born today. He was perfect. Aren’t they all?

I could end my story there. We had a baby! And we lived happily ever after. But I feel like that is a disservice to all the hard work we as women do after birth. There is so much our body needs to repair, so many emotions we need to work through, so much change we have to embrace. I don’t want to end my story there because that’s just simply not the end. Post-partum is hard and real and raw and all the things. So, if you want the reality of life after birth, keep reading.

One of the nurses stayed after her shift just so she could see what we were having. We were surrounded by support and love and I couldn’t have been happier.

I did have a tear that needed an OB surgeon so as he was stitching me up, I was breastfeeding Bowen for the first time and holding the nitrous gas mask on my face to help numb the pain. I felt like superwoman. pshhhh I was superwoman.

Soon after the surgeon left I felt light headed and mentioned it to my nurse. She checked my blood pressure and it was very low so they ordered me fluids and also a blood transfusion because I had perhaps lost more than they thought.

Once that had been taken care of I felt so much better. I was still very sore and CAN WE PLEASE TALK ABOUT how they have to press on your stomach with the force of a thousand elephants to help your uterus go down?! LORD BE NEAR that was so painful.

We enjoyed our time at the hospital to rest but actually requested to go home early (I think the nurses thought we were crazy). I just wanted to be home. It was cold and uncomfortable and I just wanted home. So, we were discharged and loaded our sweet tiny baby into the car.

We went home and the adventure began with our beautiful boy.

I could write a whole other novel on postpartum and how hard it is… how I could barely walk for weeks, how my sister had to shower me while I sat in a plastic lawn chair in the shower, my husband had to walk with me to the toilet and help me get up, how I wore depends for a month, had severe anxiety attacks and how my knees took almost a year to recover. It would be a very long post full of struggles but also full of beautiful healing moments. If you have struggled or are struggling after birth… sweet mama, you are not alone. It is hard and beautiful and all the things. You can cry all you want. I sure did.

This is how we lived for weeks. Me in wet hair that hadn’t been brushed in weeks, a trusty pair of depends, nursing bra, side table full of vitamins, my trusty water jug…. and sleep whenever we could catch it.

Bowen’s birth was the most amazing moment I’ve ever had but what’s even more amazing is the story I’m still living. That my body recovered from what I would describe as a traumatic pregnancy, a lot of weight gain, and a beautiful birth. That I have part of my heart living outside of me walking around and learning new things every day.

I could also write an entire novel on breastfeeding and how hard it is. How no one tells you how hard it is because we are all too busy shaming each other and arguing what is best instead of educating on actually how to do it and find support (I’m cringing a little… was that too far? oops.) It is so dang beautiful and such an intimate connection with your child. But if you have or are struggling, you are not alone. I could only breast feed until 7 months and even then it was such a struggle. I cried when I had to stop but also felt a wave of relief that I had made a choice to move us forward and that it was the best decision for us.

That day changed my entire life for the better. There are days and seasons that have brought a lot of tears and frustration and complete exhaustion. But, it’s worth it all. Bowen is such a source of joy and light in our lives. Russell and I still stare at him as we snuggle before bed and talk about how we can’t believe he is actually ours. The miracle of it all hasn’t worn off yet and I hope it never does.

Happy first birthday to my beautiful boy. I love you, my Bowen. The world needed a you. You are loved, you are wanted, you’re not alone. Welcome home.

The Lovely Adventure

The Lovely Adventure

The Lovely Blog

The Lovely Adventure

Bowen's Birth Story