It was all a dream.

This may not seem like the best photo to feature, but when I see it, I think “Yeah, I had my baby at home” — hello, laundry — and that was a dream come true. Here’s the story:

I’d been having contractions all day but was seriously hoping to make my hair appointment the next morning, so I continued to move around like normal, going to Michael’s for frames and hay bundles and such. Fast forward to around 8:00pm: we’re getting our security system installed — can someone say nesting? — and in the middle of signing the contract with the technician a tough contraction hits.

Technician: “Umm, are you okay??”

Me: “Yeah… I think this baby is coming.”

Technician: “Yes ma’am... TONIGHT!”

At this point, I begin to open up to the idea that “I may actually go into labor tonight” (spoiler alert: I was already in labor). While Terry put Baby T to bed, I naturally finished the dishes.

We start tracking my contractions more closely and Terry noticed that for about the past hour, on average, my contractions had been 5 minutes apart, lasting one minute. We’d been instructed to call our midwife in this “5-1-1” scenario, but I was still reluctant. Mainly because I REALLY wanted to make that hair appointment, but also because I figured she’d make the trip only to find I wasn’t as far along as we thought. I distinctly remember trying to send some final emails in between contractions (10:58pm). Contractions are like waves, so while they can be painful, after the contraction you have a break before the next one arrives (these “breaks” get shorter as you progress through labor). So I’d be typing mid-sentence and feel the sensation of a contraction coming on. I’d stop, start my contraction tracker, get into position (on elbows and knees with my head down, or on my birthing ball) and breathe deeply through the contraction, opening up and trying to relax as much as I could. Then I’d go back to emails! It should be said that one of those emails had an incorrect date, and three days later the client emailed back super confused.

“Preparation helps me be more at ease in otherwise stressful situations”

Terry eventually persuaded me to call our midwife, Amber, and she arrived quickly around 11:45pm. After checking my cervix, I was already 5cm dilated! Halfway there! This was such a relief because this meant it was GO TIME. Terry notified our birth team, which consisted of his mom (Meon), my mom (Nonna) and my aunt (Tita) and they sprang into action. I’m a control freak, so I had distributed a PowerPoint slide to each Birth Team Partner explaining how they should respond in different birth scenarios. I know this may seem crazy, but I’ve learned this about myself: preparation helps me be more at ease in otherwise stressful situations. I had absolutely no idea when or how Trenton would come into the world, but charting out the most likely outcomes and discussing this with my birth team made me feel like I wouldn’t have to worry about communicating anything in the actual moment.

Let's Do This Stretch on Birthing Ball.jpg

I had been laboring on the birthing ball, at the foot of our bed, but then moved to our bathtub (1:11am). Pouring the warm water on my belly felt soooo good. But the hard tub hurt my butt and back — even with the towel Terry added. The contractions were getting pretty intense, but were still bearable. Amber was setting up the birthing tub in our bedroom, allowing Terry and I to labor together, and she’d check in every now and then. A midwife’s primary role in this moment is to intermittently monitor mama and the baby. The midwife is there when you deliver the baby (kind of like the doctor in a hospital scenario), but it isn’t her role to sit next to you and partner with you through labor. This is your doula’s job. Whether you have a hospital or home birth, I’d highly recommend a doula. They know your birth intentions and are able to advocate for you when you can’t. They support you through your labor. My rockstar husband, Terry, has been my doula for both births and I couldn’t imagine a better teammate.

I remember being in our bathtub for a long time. Toward the end of this phase, I knew once I stood up it would be go time, for real. And I needed a little bit longer to prepare. So I listened to my body and took the deepest breaths I could as the contractions grew harder and harder. I listened to my RUACH Spotify playlist (“Here As in Heaven” by Elevation Worship was on repeat), ate some Shot Blocks for electrolytes and tried to drink water. It was getting to the point where I barely felt like I had a break in between contractions and I knew it was time.

“Is he OUT?!”

I was trying to figure out how I would get my whole body out of our bathtub and into the birthing tub in our bedroom between contractions. It wasn't gonna happen. So I asked Terry to bring the birthing ball into the bathroom so I could sit on it and have a few contractions there before heading to the bedroom. Once I hoisted myself out of the tub and onto the ball (2:22am), it comes: the intense urge to vomit. “I GOTTA THROW UP. I GOTTA THROW UP.” This had happened right before Baby Terry arrived too, so Terry knew exactly what to do — he actually already had the trash can on deck! The twist, however, is that AS I was vomiting my water began to break. So it was coming out of both ends. Yeah, great visual. With every hurl, there was dark, thick water gushing out down below. But y’all, it felt SO GOOD afterward. Like I was emptied out and it was indeed time for Trenton’s entrance! I learned many women vomit or poop (I did that too) during this transition phase of labor — it’s a cleansing out the body does in preparation for the baby. How beautiful is that?

Okay, so this is when I go into an in-the-clouds, euphoric, girl-power, cue-the-music, let’s do this state. I remember grinning so hard and feeling super hype. I was incredibly exhausted, but I could push through because I was finally about to meet my baby boy! So with Terry’s help, I make it from the bathroom to the bedroom and get in the birthing tub (2:36am) and OMG it felt like heaven. Like a spa. Like happiness and comfort and everything. Y’all, I can’t explain how amazing it felt. Like “oh, let me just melt away in bliss, I love this.” I felt all of that for about 10 seconds and then… then it came. What the warm water and soft tub did in making me feel like I was in a spa, allowed the final release and opening up needed to welcome Trenton. And while in one moment I felt like I was floating in a bed of roses, the next moment I felt the contractions go to another level. I vividly remember telling myself something like “This is the moment I’ve been preparing for. No one is coming to save me, no one is taking my place. I have to do this. I CAN do this.” When you’re in this phase, having the urge to push (2:48am), at the height of each contraction, there is this innate, out-of-my-control, “baring down” that your body does on its own. My body was doing what it was designed to do, and this was the moment I had to hold on to my intentions, allowing body and mind to move forward together in unison. I remember knowing Trenton was about to come out and telling myself to stay up on my knees while hanging over the side of the tub. My legs were so wobbly, and I was afraid of losing strength and falling on him as he came out. “Focus on staying up.” “He’s almost here.” “I can do this. I will do this.”

I pushed for only 3 minutes. The second to last contraction, I felt a significant SHIFT and loudly yelled “IS HE OUT?!?” Because it felt like he HAD to be out! But nope. It was the next push. And when he came out it wasn’t just his head, but his shoulders and rib cage too! And Terry caught him (2:51am)! On the next push the rest of his body came out and before I knew it he was in my arms! But not for long.

I was losing a LOT of blood and had to hand Trenton over to Terry. I kept emotionally asking if Trenton was okay (over and over). Amber reassured me that he was fine, but that I was losing a lot of blood and she was saying things like “Ashley, how are you feeling?” and “I want you to keep talking to us.” Amber was completely calm but her voice was louder and more direct and I could tell I needed to stop asking about Trenton and focus on me.

There’s a hand test. If you can see your hand under water in the birthing tub, you’re fine. If not you’re losing too much blood. I’d also lost a lot of blood with Baby Terry and Amber knew this, so she was READY. She gave me pills to put under my tongue and put injections in my leg. These would both help the bleeding stop and assist with my uterus contracting. The other issue was that I had not yet delivered the placenta and my contractions had stopped. I had to get out of the tub (with the umbilical cord still hanging out of me) and deliver the placenta in our bed. I had to PUSH like I did when Terry was born and she tugged on the umbilical cord while my body pushed the placenta out. I’m so glad I had Amber. We didn’t even have to worry about our bed sheets getting bloodied because while I had been laboring, Amber and her incredible team had proactively placed shower curtain liners between two clean sets of sheets on our bed, so that if we bloodied sheets, it was super easy to clean up (she and her team also did like three loads of laundry that night. Just… above and beyond.). After finally delivering the placenta, the bleeding stopped and I could hold Trenton, get some skin on skin and start trying to get him to latch for breastfeeding.

It was absolutely one of the most powerful experiences of my life. I’d do it again and again. 100x better than birthing at the hospital because I was unrestricted and able to follow my body and move through my process it was designed to do. And I had SO MUCH SUPPORT.

Dreams can come true, when you ask.

It was an actual dream come true — I didn’t think I’d qualify for home birth because of an autoimmune issue I’ve dealt with for years. But when a #momgoals friend of mine on Instagram posted about her home birth, I thought, “I could at least ask. The worst thing they can say is no, and I’d be right back here anyway.” So I asked. I toured three birth centers and each time the hospital’s “high risk” label was dispelled. In fact, I was a perfect candidate having had a non-medicated birth before.

Do you have a dream? Maybe one for which you feel unqualified? You know, that label may be a lie. So research, visit places, call with your questions, interview someone who is #goals. Do something and see what happens. You may end up in the same place you’re in now, but then at least you tried. OR you may discover that despite your past/diagnosis/whatever, you’re the perfect candidate after all.