On July 12th, my husband and I will celebrate our first wedding anniversary. Just a couple of weeks after that, it’ll be one year since I found out I was pregnant with Milo.
It’s crazy how fast time has gone.
As I’m writing this, I’m nap-trapped with Milo asleep in my arms, thinking about how incredible our journey has been.
When I first found out I was pregnant, I was terrified.
I cried.
Caleb cried.
We didn’t feel ready.
One of my biggest fears wasn’t even becoming a mom, it was what people would think. We had only been married a couple of weeks, and I was afraid people would assume I had gotten pregnant before we were married. Even though I knew the truth, I knew people would still talk.
I was also scared about money.
How were we going to afford a baby?
Looking back now, I can see that God had already started working everything out before I even knew how much I’d need Him.
After spending a few weeks trying to process whether this was really happening, I figured it was time to research what you’re supposed to do when you find out you’re pregnant.
The answer?
Go to the doctor.
…There’s just one problem.
I hate doctors.
Growing up, my family wasn’t the type to run to the hospital every time something happened. Unless it was a true emergency, we stayed home. So the idea of making doctor’s appointments already made me anxious.
I called one doctor.
No OB.
I called another.
No ultrasounds.
Then another.
Then another.
Four different offices later, I finally found one that could see me.
The only catch?
It was thirty minutes away.
When I called, they told me I was too early and would have to wait until I was twelve weeks pregnant before they could see me.
Twelve weeks?!
You mean I had to wait that long to see my baby?
It felt like forever.
To make things even more interesting, somehow the doctor’s office accidentally emailed my appointment confirmation to my mom instead of me.
To this day, I have no idea how.
She texted me and said,
“Umm… I don’t think this email was meant for me.”
Then she forwarded it to me.
Neither of us said anything about it.
Until…
A few weeks later, they accidentally sent her the appointment reminder too.
I was panicking.
Caleb wanted to wait before telling everyone, but I couldn’t exactly explain why I kept disappearing for OB appointments.
Finally, I looked at him and said,
“Babe… I think we have to tell my parents.”
So I texted my mom and asked if they wanted to meet us for dinner.
We went to Cracker Barrel.
I’ll never forget sitting there and saying,
“We think you’re going to make pretty great grandparents.”
My mom was so excited.
My dad…
He just looked at me with watery eyes and smiled.
He’s a simple man.
⸻
A few weeks later, we had our first ultrasound.
Then came blood work.
Not long after that, we found out what we were having.
Surprise…
It’s a boy.
Somewhere between those first appointments, something inside me started asking a question I never expected.
Is a hospital birth really the best option for me?
At first, Caleb and I both agreed a hospital birth made the most sense.
This was our first baby.
We had absolutely no idea what we were doing.
Then I started seeing videos about home birth.
None of them were necessarily anti-hospital.
But every time I watched one, I felt uneasy about giving birth in a hospital.
And every time I watched a home birth…
I felt peace.
I couldn’t explain it.
It wasn’t that I believed hospitals were bad. I know they save lives every single day, and I’m incredibly thankful for them. But every time I pictured giving birth at home, I pictured being surrounded by the people who loved me most, in a place where I felt safe, comfortable, and at peace. The more I prayed about it, the more I felt that’s where the Lord was leading me.
One day I asked Caleb,
“What would you think about having a home birth?”
His answer came quickly.
“No way.”
Then he laughed.
“Maybe with the next baby.”
I wanted it to be something we both agreed on, so I dropped it.
But a few hours later, he came back and said,
“If this is something you really feel strongly about… let’s talk about it.”
That meant everything to me.
When we started telling our families, my parents were immediately supportive. They trusted that Caleb and I had prayed about it and would make the best decision for our family.
Caleb’s family, on the other hand, probably thought I was just a little crazy. They never actually said that while I was pregnant, but after Milo was born they admitted they had definitely wondered what in the world we were thinking.
Looking back, I can’t blame them. Home birth isn’t the norm anymore, and it wasn’t something either of our families expected us to choose.
During that season, I prayed constantly.
I was nervous.
Could I really do this?
Would it be safe?
Was I just caught up in something I’d seen online?
But despite all of those questions…
I had peace.
One day while I was praying, I felt the Lord gently place one thought on my heart:
Have a home birth.
So I prayed,
“Okay, Lord… if this is where You want us, You’ll have to provide.”
And He did.
⸻
Finding a midwife wasn’t easy.
I emailed three different practices.
Only one responded.
Unfortunately, they told me I lived too far away.
But before ending the email, they said they knew another midwife about forty-five minutes away and gave me her contact information.
I reached out immediately.
Praise the Lord…
She had an opening.
As we drove to meet her, I felt sick to my stomach.
Maybe it was morning sickness.
Maybe it was nerves.
What if we didn’t click?
What if she wasn’t the right fit?
So I prayed.
“Lord, if she’s the one we’re supposed to choose, please give me a warm and cozy feeling.”
It was freezing outside.
When we walked into her office, the very first thing she said was,
“Come in. Sit down and get warm and cozy.”
I just looked at Caleb.
Those were the exact words I had just prayed.
Coincidence?
I don’t think so.
God is good.
⸻
Then came the hardest conversation.
Money.
We had just gotten married.
We were still paying off our wedding.
We were still paying off our honeymoon.
We were broke.
We told her honestly where we stood financially.
She wasn’t bothered in the slightest.
She asked for a $1,000 down payment and said we could make payments on the rest.
To some people, $1,000 might not sound like much.
To us…
It felt impossible.
We started trying to piece it together.
A little from one family member.
A little from another.
We were getting close…
But we still weren’t there.
Then one afternoon, we checked the mail.
“Did you order something?” Caleb asked.
“No.”
There was a plain package.
No return address.
No explanation.
Inside was a white envelope with blue lettering.
To Baby Elliott.
We looked at each other in complete shock.
I opened it.
Inside was $2,000 in cash.
I burst into tears.
God had provided.
To this day, we have no idea who sent that money.
I honestly think they wanted it to stay that way.
Whoever you are…
Thank you.
You helped make one of the most beautiful days of our lives possible.
I still have that envelope tucked away.
Not because of the money.
But because every now and then I need the reminder.
When I can’t see a way forward…
God already can.
Looking back now, I don’t think God was only providing a way for us to have a home birth.
I think He was preparing my heart.
Motherhood has asked me to trust Him more times than I ever expected.
Through pregnancy.
Through labor.
Through Milo’s clubfoot diagnosis.
Through casts, surgery, and now braces.
Through seasons where the bills pile up and I don’t know how everything will work out.
That envelope was never just about the money.
It was a reminder that God is faithful long before we can see the outcome.
Little did we know, His provision wasn’t finished.
Months later, He would answer another prayer in a way I never could have imagined.
My birth pool wasn’t even filled.
My midwife was still thirty minutes away.
And my little boy couldn’t wait to make his entrance.
But that’s a story for another day. 🤍
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This made me teary-eyed. 🥹
But my favorite part is “He’s a simple man” 😂