Ezekiel's Birth Story

I admittedly write these words now with some hesitancy. Sharing the story of our son’s entrance into this world, requires a level of vulnerability that I may have for just a short while. My desire is that sharing this will encourage someone out there, that every birth story is beautiful, no matter what it looks like. Why? Because no matter what, there was life brought to this earth for such a time as this. No matter how it came to be.

I’ll begin this story towards the end of my pregnancy in November of 2023. We abruptly moved from Colorado to Tennessee, which in turn, completely changed my plans for another home birth. I was able to find a birth center close by that was covered through insurance, and it was the closest that I could get to being at home like I originally wanted. I just kept reminding myself that no matter where I gave birth, that God was going to take care of us.

Because everything was so last minute, I was only able to have 3 appointments beforehand. During the second appointment, I was asked if I had any requests for what I wanted birth to look like. The only things I could think of was that I

1) wanted a water birth
2) wanted it to feel as close to home as possible and
3) wanted everyone to be extremely hands off

In the six years prior, my experience with doctors and my body has been completely invasive and traumatic. I have been manipulated and violated by more doctors than I care to admit, all because I didn’t understand anything about my body or that I had a voice. Because of these instances and other past factors, I have always been an extremely private and protective person when it comes to my body.

Some of these circumstances were what led me to be adamant about having my first birth be a home birth. I wanted something that felt out of my control, to be in my control in my safe space at home. Not only that, but I deeply valued privacy, and wanted to only have the necessary people around for labor and delivery.

With preparation for delivering at the birth center, I was mentally still trying to accept the fact that I couldn’t be at home. There were countless nights of tears from the stress of not feeling in control of anything, and insurmountable pressure I placed on myself to go into labor early and quickly to try and have the baby at home. Silly me, thinking I could control the outcome of birth in anyway, shape or form!

My first labor was five hours from start-to-finish, and everyone tells you that the second is always faster than the first. I had expectations already set for a quick and fairly painless water birth, which later played a detrimental part in my mindset.

January 13th, 2024 at 10pm.

My parents had arrived from Colorado five days before, after changing their flights anticipating early labor. I had had a 3 hour false labor-turned-flu about ten days prior, so the urgency to arrive early was present. I left to go pick Corey up from work and we arrived home around 10:30. I laid back down hoping to fall asleep, and within seconds, my water broke. I ran to the bathtub, and just stood in there as the puddle of fluid kept growing. I yelled out for Corey as quietly but loudly as I could without waking everyone up. He calmly asked what I needed, and I just stood there not really knowing what to do.

We woke my mom up, which in turn woke my dad up, and then woke Lenni up from the commotion. We explained to her that the baby was coming, and that mommy and daddy were going to go to the birth center and be gone for a little while.

The contractions started coming in slowly, and were extremely mild. I just stood and swayed back and forth in the shower, just trying to calm my mind and my emotions. Corey called the midwife on call, and thankfully, it was the same midwife who I had had an appointment with the week prior. She said to wait till the infamous 4-1-1 and then to come in.

Not even five minutes later, I get a phone call from her. She said she was reading through my chart, saw that my first labor was only 5 hours, and that I should come in as soon as possible. My contractions hadn’t progressed yet, but we followed her instructions, grabbed the already-packed bags with the carseat, and headed to the birth center.

Upon arrival, my contractions were still extremely mild, which I wasn’t used to from before. With Lenni, my body went from 0-100 so unbelievably fast, I didn’t have time to really progress. I decided to hop into the tub, thinking that I would only be in there for maybe a couple of hours if that. After hopping in, the contractions started becoming pretty painful and regular, not allowing me much time to catch my breath. I looked at the clock, and remember it said 1am. I thought to myself “it’s been almost 3 hours, so that means there’s only a little more time left”.

The midwife asked if I wanted to be checked, and I declined, thinking that it wouldn’t really make a difference because I was probably super dilated already. Jokes on me.

The contractions just started becoming absolutely unbearable. I didn’t remember it being like this the first time. Was something wrong? I thought the water was supposed to help?

I looked at the midwife with tears in my eyes, and just asked if it was okay to change my mind and for her to check me.

I was only at 5cm.

I immediately thought to myself “why did you do that”, and was completely devastated. Corey encouraged me to maybe switch spots and try and get labor to progress. I slowly got out of the tub and went to the shower, then moved to the exercise ball, then back to the tub.

Immediately, the contractions felt even worse. For the seconds they subsided, I just started crying. The midwife, who read in my chart that I wanted them to be “hands off”, knew right away that I was full of shit and needed help. She came up right next to me, and started offering support in every way possible. She tried pressure on my lower back, breathing techniques, and different positions in the tub. Nothing.

Then, she offered the gas.

Originally, I hadn’t signed the release form. I already had a natural birth, and convinced myself that the second one wouldn’t call for intercessory measures. In this moment, however, I could barely open my eyes. I needed help, desperately. So with shaky hands, I signed the release for the gas.

After another hour with no progress, Corey and the midwife recommended that I move again. I decided to go to the bed to have a sense of familiarity, since I had delivered Lenni in our bed. I kept looking at the clock, which had now reached 4 am. I had gone past the 5 hours. How? Why wasn’t this going how I had imagined?

I asked the midwife to check me again after having back-to-back, mind-numbing contractions.

8cm

What in the world.

She told me that something was not fully detaching(can’t remember what exactly), but offered to detach it on the next contraction. I had no idea what that meant, but remember her saying it was going to hurt, and boy was she right.

Next contraction, she did it, I let out a bloody-murder scream, and I immediately started pushing. Every contraction, I just chose to push, whether I should have or not. I couldn’t hear anything anyone was saying, because all I wanted was to get this baby out. I do remember Corey telling me to breathe, because I was holding my breath during each contraction. I told him to stop telling me to breathe, and then apologizing after the contraction let up(cause I was pretty sure I yelled at him).

After pushing for what felt like an eternity, the midwife checked his heart rate. It was dropping. I needed to lay on my side. With extremely shaky legs, I slid slowly to my right side. With every contraction, and every push, I could feel every aspect of his entrance into the world. THE contraction of all contractions started, I pushed like all hell with the mask of gas suctioned to my face, and let out another scream.

He was here…but no sound. Corey was behind me and I could sense his worry. I started asking if he was okay as they fiercely rubbed him, laying lifeless on my stomach. Then all of a sudden, Ezzy let out the most beautiful cry I have ever heard, and Corey and I followed with all of the tears.

At 6:09am on January 14th, 2024, Ezekiel was born. A 7 hour, unpredictable, emotional labor.

It feels odd to end the story here, cause to me, it feels almost incomplete. Writing this out brings out so many emotions. Truth be told, I felt a little embarrassed about it all; almost like I showed weakness by crying or that I wimped out by taking the gas. That may sound ridiculous to some, but it’s the truth. I had placed an expectation on me to not only have a faster labor, but that it would be, in a sense, easier. And it was the opposite in every way.
As I write this, Ezzy will be 3 weeks old. In those 21 days, I’ve experienced the magic that the labor I went through, provided.

Ezekiel’s name means “strength of God”, and that is the only way to describe how I survived. It might sound dramatic to say “survive”, but I truly could not have done that without the strength of the only One who could provide it. Looking back, I believe I needed to be at the birth center instead of home. I don’t know why, but I know that one day I will. Maybe it was because of his heart rate, or maybe it was because I needed the gas. Whatever the reason, I believe it all happened for the right ones, and we now have a beautiful, healthy baby boy.

So, there ya have it. The nitty gritty, real life, fairly messy birth story. Maybe yours is similar. Maybe you had a 36 hour hospital labor from hell. Maybe your birth plan went right out the window and nothing went as planned.

Its okay to be bummed. It’s okay to have your moment to recognize your feelings about it all, because they are valid.

After you do that, look at your baby that came from the interrupted plans or expectations you had. You did that. Nobody else could labor for you. No one else could carry and grow that baby. You did. You may not have had the instagram, picturesque birth story and photos, but your story is still worth telling of how you brought your baby into this world.

Tell your story. It is beautiful.