The home birth of Wyatt River

and the birth of his mother

I had waited for this moment for so long — far longer than the time waiting for him in my womb.

Ever since I was young, I wondered what birth was like. Would I survive? Does it hurt? Will I be scared? Can I do it? I have always been so curious, fascinated, in-awe of birth, and honestly, so afraid.

I haven’t been sure how to share his birth story — Hearing other women’s birth stories while I was pregnant with him was so pivotal for me. Positive birth stories eased my fears and gave me courage, and made me believe I could do it too. But something about it feels private, sacred, and ours. Because birth doesn’t leave you how it found you. It’s one of those sacred, divine moments in a women’s life that completely changes her. I remember reading and hearing things like that and thinking, “How is that true? How will I be so different?” But you are afterwards, and I am.

And I’m not going to go into every detail, moment and thought of his birth — But I’m going to share what I believe should be shared. For other women, for solidarity, for those who fear birth like I did.

What I want to share the most about his birth is every answered prayer. I prayed for simple, sweet, and short. I prayed for morning light, not even sure what I meant by that, but I prayed for morning light during his birth. I prayed for bravery and peace. I prayed for him to be okay, and I too. Everything was answered.

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Our birth story really begins three years prior to his conception.

I had a dream. One of those holy, vivid, divine dreams that you never forget. In the dream, I was told that our firstborn would be a son and we were to name him something that means brave.

Wyatt — Courageous in battle, warrior, war strength, strong in war.

I waited over three years to meet Wyatt River. Knowing he was coming one day. Knowing one day, there would be a little boy named Wyatt in our lives and he would be brave.

And I craved bravery. I wanted to be brave in life, pregnancy, and during his birth. I’m someone that has always struggled with fear and anxiety. Always bracing for the worse case scenario. I feared childbirth — Specifically, I feared I would die. So when I was told to name him something that means brave, it made sense. I would birth bravery by facing my fears.

I was 39 weeks and 3 days. I had a home birth. My labor was fast — From my water breaking at 2:30 AM to him being in my arms at 7:46 AM. A speedy five hours and 16 minutes.

Once my labor started, I was quickly at 5-1-1. Contractions five minutes apart, lasting one minute, for one hour. I remember two hours in, I threw up. I knew I was in transition and I didn’t have much longer to go. (And it was such a relief to throw up, I had been SO nauseated those first two hours.) After throwing up, things got even speedier.

My midwife and doula arrived around 6 AM. I felt immediate relief as soon as my doula put her hands on me. She was a gift from God. She helped me move through the contractions and surrender to the process — Allowing my body to do what it needed to do. I held on to every word she and Knox said to me during labor.

I stepped into the birthing tub around 7 AM. And I cannot explain how thankful I was for that water in that moment. Blissful. So much relief that my body started getting “pushy”.

And here’s what I didn’t expect — I never pushed! I mean, my body pushed, but I never physically had to tell myself to push. It felt like throwing up. Only, the other way. This uncontrollable urge and movement throughout my body. My midwife told me to tuck my chin during the surges and channel that pushy-ness downward.

And before I knew it, just as the morning light started to pour in through the window — He was here. We pulled him up out of the water, he cried immediately, and then let out a big yawn. The greatest moment of my life. The birth high was undeniable. The sweetest reward.

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During labor, I was never afraid. Which is something that took me by surprise afterwards. I just knew I had to walk through this — That there would be the other side of all of this and I had to walk my way to that other side, one surge at a time.

I would tell myself, “Oh, that was a good one” after each contraction. Knowing it was progressing me closer and closer to my baby. Knowing that no work goes unnoticed during labor. Everything was moving me closer, nothing was in vain.

Afterwards, Knox asked me what it felt like. And, I won’t lie, it’s pretty indescribable. But what I can say is, which may be controversial and this is strictly based on my experience, I wasn’t in severe pain. I wouldn’t describe it as pain. It was just really intense, uncontrollable discomfort. Like throwing up. Throwing up doesn’t hurt but yeah, you want it to stop. It’s not unbearable like I imagined. The breaks in-between contractions are pure bliss. I was terrified I would be afraid to ever do it again but about an hour later I thought, I could do that again! (Thank you, birth high 🤍)

What I absolutely didn't expect — Was seeing my son for the first time. Nothing can prepare you for that moment. Nothing.

I had never seen him before, but I knew him.

I loved him.

My entire world before him meant nothing because now, I had him. And he was everything. I was holding my purpose, meaning, and my whole heart in my arms for the first time. And I was changed.

I became a mother. The greatest calling and the greatest thing I’ll ever do.

“The Most Important Person on earth is a mother. She cannot claim the honour of having built Notre Dame Cathedral. She need not. She has built something more magnificent than any cathedral—a dwelling for an immortal soul, the tiny perfection of her baby’s body….The angels have not been blessed with such a grace. They cannot share in God’s creative miracle to bring new saints to Heaven. Only a human mother can. Mothers are closer to God the Creator than any other creature; God joins forces with mothers in performing this act of creation….What on God’s good earth is more glorious than this; to be a mother.”

-József Cardinal Mindszenty-