The awe-inspiring journey of welcoming our precious HBAC Team Green baby, Baby Buck, still resonates with me after nearly nine years. This birth was a remarkable and empowering experience that unfolded peacefully in the comfort of our home. Let me share the enchanting story of that day.

The day began with the familiar sound of the morning alarm, signaling the start of another day. However, this morning held a special significance as my firstborn, Bentley, was now a 4-and-a-half-year-old, and I was carrying our third precious blessing. The excitement was palpable as we awaited the revelation of whether Bentley would have a new little sister or welcome his first little brother into the family.

Getting out of bed felt like a challenge, resembling a turtle struggling to right itself. This pregnancy brought a new level of difficulty to my day-to-day activities. Despite the physical challenges, the emotional joy and anticipation filled every moment. Bentley, already displaying an impressive level of independence, efficiently prepared for school.

Watching my little boy navigate his morning routine stirred a profound mix of emotions. The realization that our family was expanding, coupled with Bentley's growing independence, brought tears to my eyes. As the clock ticked towards 7:30 am, I rose from the rocking chair and joined Bentley on the front porch to await the arrival of the school bus.

In that precise moment, a cascade of sensations enveloped me, akin to the warm, tranquil breeze on a serene beach. It arrested my movement, compelling me to relinquish control. As Bentley boarded the bus, I became acutely aware of these irregular yet diverse sensations – some gentle, others robust.

The morning unfolded with household chores, a plausible distraction from the unpredictable surges within. I pondered whether the previous day's extensive walking had provoked uterine unrest, attributing the sensations to fatigue rather than the commencement of active labor. Engaged in a flurry of activities – dishes, sweeping, mopping, vacuuming, and laundry – I consciously diverted my thoughts from scrutinizing each sensation. At 9:30 am, I reached out to our doula and photographer, keeping them abreast of the internal unfolding. By 12:30 pm, an intense impulse urged me to inform our midwife, though the irregularity persisted.

By 2:30 pm, I found myself at the chiropractor's office, seeking an adjustment, hoping to align everything for a smoother journey ahead. Departing with well-wishes, my anxiety heightened throughout the day. At 4:15 pm, an unmistakable shift occurred – the baby squirmed energetically and descended noticeably. An unprecedented sensation coursed through me as I felt each movement of the baby's head, sensing my pelvic floor cradling around it. Ben's call at that moment marked a pivotal emotional breakdown.

Keeping him uninformed earlier to spare unnecessary worry, I now confided in him. The labor mirrored Bailey's – intense, draining, and protracted. Doubts crept in about enduring another arduous labor at home. Ben's words of reassurance buoyed my spirits, and as he hurried home, I resumed mundane tasks, preparing for the midwives' imminent visit.

Ben's return prompted a quiet dinner, and a surprise visit from Papa Sloan ensued. Despite the irregular pattern, I hesitated to send the kids away, secretly hoping for a tranquil, early morning birth while the elder ones peacefully slumbered.

During our midwife visit, the routine inquiries, urine test, and belly palpation took place. The palpation revealed an unusually rigid uterus, posing a challenge for the midwives to accurately ascertain the positioning of our precious babe. Although the baby felt low, it didn't quite match my expectations. Notably, my pubic bone exhibited a pleasing sponginess, a positive sign. Fundal height measurements indicated 41 weeks, and due to difficulty detecting the baby's heart tones with the fetoscope, we were treated to a touching family moment using the doppler. Lying on the couch with my Bigs, husband, midwives, and the resonant heartbeat filled the room, creating a beautifully emotional atmosphere in our birthing space.

After a deliberation with our midwives, I agreed to a cervical check, revealing dilation to 1 centimeter, stretched to 2 centimeters, and 60% effaced. The simultaneous elation and disappointment lingered in the air. To address the possibility of prodromal labor, our midwives recommended a soothing Epsom Salt bath infused with Lavender Essential Oil. Once our midwives departed and our children nestled in their beds, Ben and I embraced a moment of relaxation.

Around 8:30 pm, a wave of exhaustion washed over me, signaling my body's need for rest. Proposing that we retire to bed soon, I continued sitting on the birth ball, sipping water, and watching TV. Despite persistent sensations, their irregular and inconsistent nature led me to believe they would subside once I lay down for the night, much like the earlier nap-induced reprieve.

At 9:36 pm, nestled in bed and enveloped in the soothing tones of Hypnobabies' 'Come Out Baby,' I drifted into a brief slumber. Suddenly, intense sensations roused me from my sleep, their frequency unknown since I had stopped keeping track. Despite my profound fatigue, these sensations compelled me onto hands and knees, face buried in the pillow, hips swaying in rhythmic motion. By 10:58 pm, I recognized the intensity, primarily focused in my hips and back, even with the baby in the optimal anterior and flexed position. At 11:16 pm, surrendering to the undeniable urge, I decided it was time for the bathtub, as suggested by the midwives. Submerging into the warm water infused with Epsom Salts and Lavender Essential Oil, a wave of calm washed over my body, mind, and soul. Yet, the sensations escalated faster than anticipated, leading me to lean over the edge of the bathtub, knees spread wide. In these moments, I envisioned and encouraged my sweet baby's descent, reciting my cherished affirmations during the intervals between each sensation.

Realizing that my sensations were seemingly spaced around ten minutes apart, I decided to time them, only to discover a shift – now ranging from three to five minutes apart and lasting about a minute and a half each. Recognizing this significant change, I promptly alerted our doula, photographer, and a family friend to be on standby. By 12:30 am, Ben, waking to an empty bed, ventured downstairs to find me laboring in our bathtub. It was then that I shared the news – he wouldn't be embarking on his work trip that day; instead, we were on the brink of welcoming our sweet babe.

At 1:30 am, our doula discovered me immersed in labor in the bathtub, surrounded by the soothing strains of music as my body diligently worked to bring our baby earthside. Setting the ambiance, she introduced essential oils, adorned the space with tranquil white lights, and connected my soothing music to her speaker. Shortly thereafter, our photographer and family friend joined the labor party.

After spending several hours in the bathtub, I sensed it was time for a change. By 2 am, I dried off and rejoined everyone in our serene birthing space in the living room. Amidst conversations and laughter, I attempted sitting on the birth ball, only to discover that position was intolerable. The birth ball exerted undue pressure on my pelvic floor, making it uncomfortable. Even leaning on the birth tub during sensations did not alleviate the pressure enough. Around 2:30 am, I observed a decrease in the intensity of my sensations since transitioning to our birth space, and our doula confirmed they had spaced out a bit. Consequently, I opted to move around our home and explore different laboring positions.

After just thirty minutes of walking around our home, fatigue set in, prompting me to warm up the bathtub and resume laboring there—the place where I felt most in control and the calmest. Before submerging back into the soothing water, I took a moment to empty my bladder and check my cervix. Although my cervix was noticeably more effaced and dilated, there were no signs of a bloody show or losing my mucus plug at this point. However, in that serene moment, an inexplicable wave enveloped my body, accompanied by a voice, as if someone stood beside me in that dimly lit bathroom, saying, "Your water will break soon, your baby is coming to you!" Describing the strange sense of calm that washed over me would be an understatement. I surrendered to the guidance of my body, allowing every fiber to participate in the sacred work of bringing my baby into the world.

I settled back into the comforting embrace of the warm, soothing water, our doula at my side gently massaging my head with the tingling sensation of a head massager, sending perfect chills down my spine. Around 4 am, I found myself leaning over the side of the bathtub, my pelvis open wide, when I experienced a distinct pop followed by a warm gush of fluid around my thighs. In a hushed tone, I quietly announced that my water had just broken. Our doula, swift in her response, used a flashlight to inspect the water for any signs of meconium. To our relief, she found only traces of blood, a positive indicator of cervical progression.

The subsequent sensation surged with an intensity akin to a vice grip, slowly but surely tightening its hold, hitting me like a freight train. The pressure on my hips felt as if they were on the verge of exploding. I couldn't help but vocalize my pain, tears and angst welling up on my face. With heightened clarity, I felt every movement of Baby Buck, now bereft of the cushioning effect. In a desperate plea, I begged Buck to cease his movements, the intensity of the experience etched across my face as I cried out for him to be still.

I eased back into the warmth of the bathtub, finding the downward pressure increasingly unbearable. Flipping from side to side, my body instinctively moved in tandem with the sensations. "I can't do this anymore; it's much too painful," I pleaded with our doula. Yet, in that moment of despair, the unmistakable urge to push surged through me. I demanded an immediate call to the midwife and the filling of our birth tub. Our baby was descending, arriving sooner than I had anticipated. Trembling and shivering violently between each sensation, I felt a sense of urgency.

Transition loomed ahead. Although I estimated my cervix to be at 8 centimeters, I contemplated surrender. Swaying my legs side to side, pressing my backside against the bathtub wall for counter-pressure on my hips, and experimenting with deep, low moans, I navigated the intensity. Each sensation stole my breath, yet the subsequent release brought sweet relief, and gratitude escaped my lips. In moments of relaxation, I marveled at the control I had harnessed this time, experiencing an almost out-of-body sense of joy.

As some sensations intensified, my moans ascended in pitch. A guiding voice urged me to stay low, maintain calmness in my voice, and breathe out through my breath. "Breathe the baby out," echoed with each sensation.

At approximately 4:45 am, following a minor water hose mishap and some extra effort from our birth team to manage the aftermath, the birth tub was finally ready. Unsure if I could muster the strength to transition from the bathtub to our birthing space, a voice reminded me of the meticulous preparation for Buck's arrival. Drawing from this assurance, I found the resolve I needed. Providentially, my sensations momentarily eased, allowing for a "now or never" opportunity. Wrapped in towels, we embarked on the journey to our birthing space, ensuring a swift yet safe transition.

Entering the birth tub after a quick caution about the water's warmth, I immersed myself in the soothing heat. Instantly, my body surrendered, melting into the tub with profound relief and joy. As the next sensation emerged, an overwhelming urge to push took hold. Alerting our doula, she reassured me to heed my body's cues. Pushing instinctively, I was aware that our midwives had yet to arrive. Our family friend, noting the absence of midwives, inquired about our doula's experience in delivering babies. Ordinarily, this might have sparked anxiety, but I held firm in the belief that I possessed the strength to birth this baby independently, and that was my intent.

ChatGPT

I sensed Buck descending, with the baby's head nearing crowning. Yielding to each urge, I allowed my body to push as necessary. In a surprising moment, an intense urge prompted me to feel below, revealing our baby's head—warm and slimy. As I continued pushing, I encountered the "ring of fire" and delicately traced my finger around the baby's head to encourage gentle stretching and prevent tearing. However, as if Buck signaled the need for respite, he squirmed, causing the baby's head to disappear momentarily. Undeterred, I pushed further, feeling the baby's forehead and confirming the anterior position. With small pushes, I coaxed Buck to surrender to the impending birth.

Amidst the excitement, our midwives arrived, gathering the birthing supplies. A sudden, intense urge to push seized me, and with a quiet announcement, I revealed that the baby's head was out. The commotion in our birthing space intensified as no one was aware of the efficient progress. "Oh, it is!" exclaimed our doula in a moment I'll forever remember. A few more pushes, and Buck's shoulders emerged. With my hands under the baby's armpits, I pulled Buck the rest of the way out. Buck felt surprisingly long, as if I were pulling for miles before feeling the tiny feet exit my birth canal.

In jubilation, I cried out, "Thank You, Jesus!" repeatedly as I brought Buck to my chest and gently reclined in the birth tub. Helping hands converged to check the baby's heart tones, while Ben's hands brushed my hair and face, and his sweet kiss graced the top of my head. Buck emitted a couple of small coughs, prompting our midwife to gently stimulate his back. Suddenly, with a mighty roar, our baby let out a robust cry.

"Oh, thank you, Jesus!" I exclaimed, tears streaming down my face. "I'm so relieved that it's over!" Glancing around the room filled with strength, love, support, and empowerment, I marveled at how I had conquered all my fears and anxieties during pregnancy and birth. My mental strength and ability to navigate each sensation left me in awe, especially as I held this beautiful little being on my chest, making his transition earthside!

Although it felt like days, I had momentarily forgotten that we hadn't yet discovered who had joined us on this side of the world. So, right then, I joyfully declared, "I guess we better find out who you are!"

IT'S A BOY!

I cried—tears of joy, disbelief that my instincts were right for the third time, and pure, sweet happiness. Our little Mr. Barrett Jackson, as perfect as can be, covered in incredible Birthday Frosting, peach fuzz, and birth glory! It was a beautiful moment shared with the most incredible Birth Team. Caught up in the joy of the occasion, our midwife inquired if I was feeling crampy, but I wasn't. Following her suggestion, I gave a few effortless pushes, and earthside emerged Buck's incredible placenta!

I chose to leave the birth tub not quite an hour after baby's birth. Settling into the rocking chair where my contractions had begun only 22 hours ago, Big Brother Bentley came downstairs to a living room full of commotion! Overwhelming tingles rushed through me, and tears started flowing again. As Big Brother hugged me with a confused look on his face, I urged him to see what his daddy had in his arms!

After Barrett was checked for any tearing, he was handed back to me, and we tied off his cord. Daddy, for the third time, had the honor of disconnecting his precious baby from the placenta. Barrett latched on for the very first time, and we all sat there for the placenta inspection before it was carefully packaged up to go home with our doula for encapsulation.

Once I had a refreshing shower, and Daddy enjoyed some precious daddy-son time, we all retreated upstairs to our bedroom for the newborn examination. It was an incredible experience, and I am deeply grateful that we followed our instincts and chose a home birth for the arrival of our third precious babe. Little did I realize how significant this birth and experience would become to me until five and a half months later when my dear husband passed away unexpectedly. I treasure the memories that I'll be able to share with our precious son as he grows older.

Stay Wild & Free,
-Brandy

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