Henry’s Birth Story

This is how my third son, Henry Dale, made his appearance into the world.

All naturally, with no interventions of any kind, in the peace of our own home.

I felt like I would be pregnant forever. For real. Even though my rational mind reminded me otherwise, I just felt like it had no end in sight. I know that’s a funny thing to hear, but Henry came at 42 weeks and four days – the longest any of my pregnancies have gone so far. (Shiloh and Gideon were both 41 weeks on the dot)

 As we passed the 41 week mark, and then 42 weeks slipped by, I was growing impatient and even a bit depressed. I would wake up in the morning and have this disheartening sense that it wouldn’t be the day I would give birth. Each day felt like a replay of the day before, just waiting for baby to arrive – Groundhog Day – but the pregnant woman version. I was so eager to get this baby out, and to not be massively pregnant any longer!

But I also knew that I wasn’t about to sacrifice my child’s safety and my own by intervening and trying to rush this sacred process of birth; and in the process, possibly creating complications and the need for additional interventions. I was truly committed to letting my body birth spontaneously and in accordance with when the baby and my body were truly ready. Nothing was going to shake my resolve, as uncomfortable as I was, and despite the rollercoaster of emotions that flooded me constantly. I had to shake off thoughts of negativity, the little prick of concern that would try to make its way in, and the external voices that (intentionally or not) caused me to feel pressured to get labor going.  

My gracious parents offered to watch Shiloh and Gideon the Thursday after I passed 40 weeks, “so they wouldn’t have to worry about getting a phone call at 3am to ‘come get the boys.’” We had agreed ahead of time that they would be taking care of the kids while I was in labor. I didn’t anticipate them actually watching them for so long though! The boys stayed with their grandparents for a little over two weeks in total! That was part of why I was battling a torrent of emotion: The fact that I missed my boys so much and felt guilty at times for not being with them. The house felt so quiet, with it just being Michael and me. That alone made me want to get labor started, just so I could have my boys back again. It’s funny – the same chaotic, loud, messy children that drive me crazy sometimes also left such an obvious chasm in their absence. It really helped me refocus on how much I am grateful to be their mama, and appreciate the blessing and joy that they truly are in my life. One point, I was sitting on the living room floor and I started crying because I saw a commercial on TV that reminded me of them. Another time, I was walking through Tractor Supply with Michael and saw the little animal figurine section and instantly tears sprang to my eyes…again, reminded of my sweet kiddos and how each time we go to Tractor Supply the boys beg for one of those toys.

But beside this emotional weep-fest, I really cherish the time I had with my husband in those blissfully/painfully quiet two weeks.

Michael and I got to do everything together. We went to the library, went out to eat, visited Ace Hardware numerous times (Michael’s favorite store if you didn’t know) and Michael planted new roses in our front by the porch, as well as freshly mulched that area. He also set up our above-ground pool in the back yard and spent some time making that look nice. We binge watched a British series from the library, “Mr. Selfridge” which may have left me emotionally scarred, but we won’t talk about that now. I spent a good deal of time working on embroidery to keep myself peacefully occupied.

I called this season of waiting our “babymoon staycation”, since I had taken off from baking for people and teaching music lessons, and Michael was also prioritizing staying with me over taking on new work calls. It was really good for us. Having children can be hard on your marriage at times because it can feel like you don’t get to truly spend time with your spouse anymore. It’s hard to have conversations without a kid demanding a snack, wanting to climb on you or needing you to wipe their butt. So this little period of respite was truly wonderful for us to take time to slow down and reconnect with eachother before baby arrived.

 I was standing in the shower, sometime around 41 weeks, and I swear I heard God ask me, “Do you trust me?” And I said, “yes; I do.” I really did. I knew down in my soul that everything would be okay, and that there was no need for concern. God supplied me with the peace of knowing in my logical mind that baby would come when the time was right, and there was no rush. I knew this birth would be a beautiful one.

Two days before I went into labor, my midwife was here for one of her routine visits and said, “you won’t be winning the Guinness Book of World Records for having the longest pregnancy.”

I was feeling particularly down-in-the-dumps that day and had no motivation. I was feeling exhausted, my hip was killing me, and I had lost all desire to do just about anything. Basically, I felt like a beached whale. Gone were the excited days of nesting and preparations for the baby. I was just done. Poor Michael had to endure my day-long pity party. But when my midwife showed up, it got better. She gave me a pep talk and helped bring me back to reality and ground myself in the present. She reminded me that I wouldn’t be pregnant forever. “You’ll just be pregnant until you’re not!” One of the things I appreciated so very much about her was how relaxed she was about everything. Me going past 42 weeks didn’t freak her out. She had worked with other mamas who had done similarly, and her calm and collected demeanor was such a refreshing change to see. (My previous two midwife groups had been more time-sensitive in their attitude about the due dates and “going late”.) She reminded me to just focus on the present moment and not get carried away with thoughts or concerns of the future.

God really blessed me with placing this wise woman in my life for this pregnancy. The world needs more birth supporters like her. I wish every woman could have a midwife as helpful, composed and educated as her.

Well, Friday came and went, and I was up late that night watching the Daredevil series and working on a last minute embroidery hoop for my mom for Mother’s Day. I didn’t feel like going to bed, so I didn’t finally actually abandon my project until around 12:30. But I couldn’t sleep. I just lay awake in bed for a while, my mind unable to settle down.

I should mention that I had been having Braxton Hicks/prodromal contractions on and off since week 40, but they were very mild and inconsistent. Each time I would have one I would get a little bit hopeful that it was the “real deal”, but it wouldn’t be. I also started joking that I couldn’t tell if I was having contractions or if it was just gas.

I was feeling that gassy kind of sensation and kind of uncomfortable because of it, so sleep evaded me Friday night. And then around 3am I started feeling it intensify. And it didn’t go away. As I lied there in the bed next to my peacefully sleeping, snoring husband, I thought to myself, “am I going into labor for real this time?” I had a feeling this was the case. They were feeling like actual contractions. They were still small ones, but they definitely felt different than everything else I had felt with those Braxton Hicks/warmup ones in the prior two weeks. I finally got up and decided to braid my hair and go back to the embroidery hoop again.

Contractions were coming and going, grabbing my attention each time with a little more intensity. I eventually woke Michael and informed him I was in labor. He jumped out of bed and helped me prepare, setting up the birthing pool in our living room, placing drop cloths and chuck pads around as well.

I texted my midwife, and again at 4:30, updating her that the contractions were getting more regular, intense and “gripping”. She lives an hour away so I recommended that she go ahead and make the drive. I had been trying to work on my mom’s embroidery hoop but now the labor had progressed too much for me to be able to focus on the stitches, so I decided to just give up on that for the time being.

I was feeling the waves growing stronger…wrapping around me tighter and tighter, reminding me each time to relax and surrender to their power. I had my Hypnobabies (childbirth hypnosis) track on, listening to it steadily and choosing to stay calm and centered. Part of the time, I stood in the bathroom, breathing deeply and holding on to the counter, swaying gently as a wave would envelop me.

I had asked Michael to fill up the birthing pool because I knew I was progressing fast, and I wanted to be in a comfortable spot for the more intense labor coming. I got into the pool and just focused on breathing through each contraction, intensely aware of the pressure and strength each one brought as it worked its way through my body. The best way to describe these deep, intense contractions isn’t by calling them painful…because they weren’t painful. It’s more like feeling all the muscles of your abdomen and pelvis tightening, squeezing you, and at the same time, feeling your pelvis opening and stretching.

The sensation is so powerful that if you don’t focus on your breathing, as well as relaxing and releasing tension from your body, you almost feel like you’re drowning in the intensity.

Each contraction begins slowly – it swells like a wave on the sea, building, building, building… and then crashing onto the shore and fading away.

They continued like this until they reached a peak of intensity. I was partially reclined in the birth pool, Michael would come and go bringing more warm water to add to the pool that he heated on the stove. (Our water heater went on the fritz that morning) He would also stop to rub my shoulders and offer me some BodyArmor to drink, encouraging me with kind words and kisses on my forehead. I love my husband, did I mention that already?

And then, almost shockingly fast, I started feeling that telltale green light that baby was CLOSE. I started feeling the urge to push, and with it, the incredibly overpowering fetal ejection reflex sensation.

With each new contraction it made me quiver and release involuntarily, succumbing to my body’s will to open and get this child out. This FER is actually really satisfying when it hits you. It feels a lot better than any other part of labor, even though it’s the most intense. It just feels right. At this point, I switched positions and got on my knees, leaning over the side of the pool. Michael knelt beside the pool so I could hold on to him, allthewhile offering me words of praise on how good I was doing.

I was feeling the heaviness of Henry moving down the birth canal, and with it, the eagerness to finally complete that final stage of labor. This part used to terrify me after I had Shiloh, because it was so unbelievably painful with him when he started to crown.

But ever since I had Gideon and realized crowning didn’t have to be outright miserable, it’s been a different reality for me. Yes, it is uncomfortable, and you can feel yourself stretching open around the baby in a very powerful, intense way, but it isn’t necessarily what I would call painful. You feel yourself breaking apart but at the same time you feel this surge of raw power. As I was in this moment, I asked Michael to put some praise music on. I was feeling emboldened and ready to get this done!

I am 99 percent sure it was Way Maker that was playing in those final moments of labor – that or I Speak Jesus – I just know it was one of those two. I felt excited to pour myself into these moments.

In reality, it was a pretty short span of time. I only needed to push three times.

I pushed when a contraction came, and felt something pop out. I remember asking, “what the heck was that?” It was like a water balloon!  It just kinda floated around in the water. That was a new one! I am not sure what that was about, my guess is it was a piece of amniotic sac that somehow got twisted and came out like that? I’m not sure. Henry did have a “veil” on his head, or a caul birth, if I’m correct. Part of the sac was on his head like a hat. I guess my water broke while he was actually being born this time!

The next push, I let out a roar, gripping Michael’s arm tightly and feeling myself stretch and open even further. I let myself push with the contraction and the FER. I could feel Henry’s head starting to emerge, but then I felt him slip back inside again. The final push was what got him out. As that worship song played in the background, I fixated on the words, and I embraced the power and adrenaline coursing through my body, roaring again like the lioness I felt like in that moment.

I felt strong, fearless, and focused, feeling the intensity of the moment vividly.

I heard the midwife catch Henry and soon his little newborn cries reached my ears. The energy now draining from me fast, I held on to Michael, relaxing into him. Before I knew it, I was weeping – overwhelmed with the most all-consuming gratitude and peace. Praise and thanksgiving was pouring from off my tongue like a flood that I couldn’t control.  I could hear myself praising God over and over. “Thank you Jesus.” I don’t know how many times I said that. How many times I heard myself crying out, hallelujah, through my sobs of pure, unfettered joy.

I don’t think I have ever spoken in tongues, but this might have come really darn close. It felt involuntary, like the Holy Ghost literally just got a hold of my vocal cords and took the wheel. Mama got really Pentecostal up in those moments. 😊

It was beautiful. So beautiful. Words can’t do it justice, and I pray I never forget this. Ugh, now I am starting to tear up again, thinking about it. Annnd here come the tears. Maybe I should have waited for another couple weeks before trying to write this, haha.

It felt like I was in that moment of praise and worship for hours, but looking back, it was probably only a few minutes tops. Henry was born at 6:48am, on a rainy Saturday, May 10^th. I only had about 3 hours of labor total.

 I finally realized my baby was waiting for me to hold him, and so I settled back down in the pool again carefully and took him in my arms. We waited for his cord to turn white, just like we did with the other boys. Then Michael cut it, just like the other times as well. It’s a tradition now.

Technically birth isn’t over when you birth your baby – there’s the birth of the placenta, too. I pushed that out pretty easily.

My midwife helped me walk to our bedroom and get into our nice, comfy bed. Did I mention that giving birth at home is actually so dreamy? It is so wonderful not having to get loaded up in the car and drive anywhere. I just got into my own bed and held my baby, relishing the skin to skin time and “golden hour” time after birth.

Henry weighed in at 9.5 lbs, just in-between his brothers’ weights. Shiloh was 9.2 and Gideon was 9.7! He was almost 22 inches long, at 21 ¾ inches. I think he snagged the record for longest of his brothers!

My midwife was impressed with the quality of my placenta. I mention this because some people make comments about placentas “deteriorating after 40 weeks”, which is very often just not true – and my placenta showed this to be the case. The placenta and my blood quality looked amazing, she said. I credit that to my religiously drinking red raspberry leaf and nettle tea throughout the pregnancy! As to other recovery details, I had a very smooth first day postpartum. I had no complications whatsoever. Minimal bleeding, and both Henry and I came out of the birth experience perfectly healthy.

I will say, it’s interesting to note that the afterbirth contractions were no joke this time. I noticed them some with previous births, and they weren’t fun then either, but this time they were especially noticeable.  They were pretty painful the first day. Actually, that part was way worse than anything I felt during birth ironically. Probably my least favorite part of the experience. I did take my AfterBirth tincture which helped a lot. The contractions actually lasted 3 days or so after I gave birth, which was definitely longer than any time before. When they said the after birth contractions get worse with each pregnancy due to the oxytocin production increasing, it is definitely valid. Especially when I would start breastfeeding Henry, it would trigger one…ouch.

Henry latched right away, speaking of. He didn’t have any issues with that. However, it had been almost a year since Gideon had weaned, so I needed to get the equipment broken in again. Another ouch. Big ouch. Feeling a lot better now in that department, but it was really painful for that first week especially. Another transition that isn’t easy or fun, and really tries to mess with your resolve. We’re getting through it though. As of now, 5/30/25, (almost 3 weeks later) Henry has not only gained back his birth weight but he surpassed it, now weighing 10.8 lbs! So he clearly is getting fed. Haha.

Postpartum so far has been what you would expect. It has some very challenging parts – sleepless nights, due to a baby who wants to cluster feed all night long with practically no breaks. If I am lucky, I get 1-3 hours of sleep in. You kinda just get used to it, though. And since I already have been through this before twice, it’s not a drastic shock or anything. It’s just difficult.

Emotionally, I am mostly in a positive way. I have some weepy moments, but that isn’t too different from the emotional highs and lows I experienced in pregnancy. And even when I’m not pregnant, I’m a pretty sensitive soul anyway.

I’ve been trying to slow down and really focus on not overdoing it this time for my own recovery. It’s hard when you have two little boys already and a homestead to boot. But with my husband’s tremendous help, I do feel like I’ve gotten to actually rest this time more than the other times. On top of that, I have been making it an intentional point to just stay in the present moment. No wishing for the next chapter, no giving into the temptation to feel impatient for the next stage. Just letting myself be in this season, just letting myself keep life simple. Holding my baby, taking care of him and not putting any kind of schedule on him or myself. We’re just here, trying to stay grounded in the here and now and not putting too much thought on tomorrow or the future.

That’s a massive mindset shift from my past views. With Shiloh, I remember that I couldn’t wait to get back to working again, lifting weights, traveling, doing all the things. I was so impatient. I enjoyed being with Shiloh, of course, but I didn’t know how to just sit with the moment the way I do now.

I’m thankful that now as a 29 year old I have the insight to know that it’s a blessing to slow down.

To savor the moment, and to not detach oneself from it. Even when you’re uncomfortable or in pain, or dealing with a fussy baby at 3am. I am choosing to not fall into the trap of feeling bad for myself, or thinking I need a break from it. Breaks are needed sometimes, yes. But deep down I realized, when I focus on “needing a break” from the discomforts of the moment, it makes everything harder. Surrendering to the moment however brings a peace and gentle understanding that everything is as it should be, it’s going to be okay, and I’m doing a holy work. Being a mother is holy work, a sacred calling, and I am so immensely grateful for the blessing of getting to be a mama. Each of my children is a priceless treasure, a gift from God.

Henry’s birth blessed me in deep, healing, beautiful ways. It was gloriously simple, short and sweet. The intense contractions weren’t for very long before I knew it was time to push. I think there were maybe a dozen of them. It felt like it went by so fast. Time sped up, I swear, that’s how it felt. And his actual birthing was fast, too.

During the whole time, I felt in control, peaceful, and safe. I never had a fear enter my mind, not even for a minute. My mind was simply focused on the task at hand, and surrendering to it, while staying so keenly aware of every sensation I was feeling. I was aware, even though I did use childbirth hypnosis again, but this time it was different. With Gideon’s birth I was in a dreamy haze, in a cloud of hypnosis where the contractions were dulled and even crowning wasn’t very intense, feeling wise. With Henry, I was still in hypnosis, but much more aware and in tune with my body and what I was experiencing. My mind was much more awake and alert.

I think because of this, I felt much more emboldened toward the end. I felt powerful.

Henry’s birth reminded me that birth is truly so instinctive and simple. And that I am so much stronger than I give myself credit for. My body knows. It has that deep ancestral wisdom that God implemented in women from the very beginning. The wisdom that says we don’t have to question our bodies or our babies, birth will happen when it needs to happen. (usually) That instinctive knowledge is in our DNA. The body knows how to birth safely. We just have to let it.

My heart sings with gratitude for this beautiful testimony of God’s love and grace, and how birth has been a catalyst for me to learn even more about myself, in the process of welcoming a beautiful new son into my life. Henry’s birth was perfect. It was an answered prayer. It was just what I hoped it would be, and more.

Birth cracks you open, just like pregnancy draws back all your layers and breaks down your walls. It forces you to really look at yourself, to work through your issues and address anything that needs attention. Pregnancy and birth reveal the rawness of our humanity, and while it can be unpleasant to acknowledge parts of that humanity in the process, it can be the biggest opportunity for self development and deepening your relationship with God that you’ll ever get.

Pregnancy and birth are so deeply spiritual, I can’t believe people still don’t see the connection. As your body nurtures and grows a new human, your own spirit is pushed to grow and expand, to adapt and evolve. This can be a gentle process, but it can be equally violent, too. It can feel like an overwhelming hurricane that you can’t escape from, but at the same time, when you surrender and allow yourself to truly sink into the transformation, you feel so empowered and at peace. You feel so in touch with everything. It’s a gift, and like I said, nobody will ever convince me it isn’t powerfully spiritual. God knew what He was doing when he designed it like this.

I am also incredibly grateful to my midwife, because she did just what I wanted her to do – basically, stay out of my way and let me birth in peace the way I felt. She sat on the couch and let me labor in my own little world, and then when things got more serious, she stepped in to catch Henry. She didn’t try to do cervical checks or anything, which I very much appreciated. She helped afterwards with cleaning up and handling those less exciting details. Overall, she was the perfect midwife for my birthing needs. I am so grateful that I found her and that she was willing to work with me, even being an hour away.

Well, I guess that’s everything. If you read this all, kudos to you, you deserve a gold star. I know I get wordy and ramble, so bless you for sticking through it all. I just can’t write about something so important without getting into all the nitty gritty details.