“Hey Teresa, do you want me to go ahead and chop the celery, or just wait until tomorrow?” I asked my boss.
“Go ahead and do it now. You might not come in tomorrow!”
“What? No, I still have three more weeks!”
Boy, was I wrong.
It was Tuesday, March 17th. I went home, showered, fixed supper, and made blueberry muffins to take to work the next day. I even went to my mom’s house, and we talked about how my belly hadn’t even dropped yet. But I guess little Milo had other plans.
I had a really hard time sleeping. I’m an early bird, so tossing and turning until 9:30 at night felt late to me, and I was dreading having to get up early for work the next day. I was really tired at the end of my pregnancy. My husband, Caleb, works second shift and doesn’t get home until 1:00 in the morning, then sleeps late the next day. It’s hard for many reasons, but the two main ones are that I miss my husband and a lot of the chores get left to me. Being nine months pregnant definitely didn’t help.
At about 10:30 or so, I woke up with a dull cramp and had to get up to use the bathroom. I got up a few more times after that until I finally turned on the bathroom light. There was blood when I wiped.
My first thought was, Is Milo okay?
Then it dawned on me.
Am I in labor?
I was in so much denial. I went and sat on the bed and waited until my husband got home. When he saw the bathroom light was on, he ran in.
“Is everything okay?!”
“I think I’m in labor…”
I was in so much denial that I didn’t call my midwife until after my water broke. It was just a small trickle down my leg, I honestly thought I had peed myself.
My midwife said, “This sounds like early signs of labor. Call me if things get worse, and try to get some rest.”
So my husband tried to give me as much comfort as he could. I was in and out of the bath, still convinced this was all fake and that there had to be some other explanation for why I was cramping. Eventually, my husband fell asleep, and I sat between the wall and the bed, pressing against the mattress to relieve some of the pressure.
Then I thought, I need to text my mom.
Luckily, my mom works early in the morning and was awake when I texted her at 4:38 a.m.
“Is you awake?”
We texted back and forth, and I finally called her while sitting in the bath. She immediately started timing my contractions.
My original birth plan was just going to be me, my husband, the midwife, and her assistant. I had a birthing pool that was going to be set up in Milo’s nursery. I had a playlist ready, planned lighting, and everything prepared in my mind. The plan was to do all of that the upcoming Saturday when Caleb was home.
Whoops.
While sitting in the bath on the phone with my mom, she finally asked, “Do you want me to come over?”
“Yes, please.”
She raced over and said I should call my midwife and tell her what was going on. Then she said the worst thing someone in labor could hear.
“You’re probably at a one out of ten pain level right now, so you need to mentally prepare yourself to get to that higher pain level.”
I looked at my mom and said, “If this is a one, I don’t think I can get to a ten!”
“Bentley, I know I’m not a midwife, but I am your mom, and I know your pain tolerance. I know you are not at a one. You’ve got this.”
She called my dad to come over and start setting up the pool. We didn’t even have a hose yet to fill it up!
The contractions were getting more intense and closer together, so I was on my knees, stretched over my birthing ball, just trying to get through each one. There was chaos all around me, but every time I said, “Another one’s coming,” my mom would stop everything, apply pressure to my back, and help me through it.
We called my midwife again and told her the contractions were getting closer together and that she should probably start heading our way, but she still had a 40-minute drive.
Probably ten minutes after calling her, I felt the need to poop and the most intense pressure in my lower body.
My mom said, “I don’t think she’s going to make it.”
The pool wasn’t filled up. The water was cold. That was all the boys could focus on, and finally my mom said, “Stop! There’s no time. The baby is coming now!”
We called my midwife and told her the baby was coming.
“Bentley, I never tell my clients to hold it in, but try not to push. I’m still 30 minutes out.”
My husband was in front of me holding my hand, saying, “You’ve got this, baby. You’re so strong,” over and over again.
I was still on my knees, bent over the birthing ball, and my mom was behind me with a towel, ready to catch baby Milo.
And after one push, he was here.
At 7:03 a.m., weighing 7 pounds 6 ounces, my beautiful baby boy arrived.
I was in labor for about five hours, gave birth in one push, and never felt what I would describe as pain. It was intense. It was chaotic. It was completely different from what I had planned.
But it was also one of the most amazing experiences of my life.
Watching my family come together so quickly, seeing everyone step in to help, and welcoming Milo into the world surrounded by people who loved him before they even met him is something I will never forget.
If you’re considering a home birth, know that every experience is different. Not everyone will have the same support system I did, and not every midwife will make it on time. But for me, it was worth it. There was something so special about giving birth in the comfort of my own home, surrounded by the people who cared about me most not as a patient, but as a wife, a daughter, and a soon-to-be mother.
And as it turns out, Teresa was right.
I never did make it back to work the next day to chop that celery. ❤️