As a birth photographer, telling birth stories through photos brings me such a sense of honor and purpose. Showing the strength and vulnerability of labor, the support of a birth partner and the midwives or other care providers, the emotions and the details that tell the story of the journey, and the joy and relief once baby is in their parents’ arms… it’s all a passion of mine. But the truth is, the story I tell is from an outside perspective. So to get to hear that same story through the words of the person who lived it is so very special. Getting to read those words alongside my documentation is, for me, well, it’s just magic.
I hope you’ll enjoy seeing this birth story from my perspective in this slideshow and then reading about the journey Katelyn went on to bring her baby Earthside in her own words below!
“ ”
Around 37 weeks, I started to have cramps that would start at night and drop off in the early morning. I figured baby girl was probably going to come a little early since these cramps were coming consistently and sooner than expected. Her due date, October 9th, came and went but nothing else happened to signal she was ready to come. Then I hit 41 weeks, this is when I started to panic just a tiny bit since I was planning for a home birth, but I would have to be induced if she didn’t come by 42 weeks. Honestly, I was trying so hard to stay positive, but I was starting to doubt that homebirth would still be an option for me.
At 41 weeks 2 days — October 18th, Jared offered to invite friends over, so I didn’t have to sit around the house overthinking not being in labor. Our friends stopped by to play some games. Like clockwork, I started cramping — prodromal labor, I thought. We started playing games and kept on as planned. It really did help lift my spirits having people over. During the game, I noticed some cramps that required me to stand because sitting was too uncomfortable. Again, I thought not as much of it.
Our friends left and I started getting ready for bed. I began to realize that lying down made it more uncomfortable so I would stand and walk around my room when the cramping and tightening happened. I cannot remember when it finally hit me, but I told Jared this might be labor around 11:30 pm. I started to time them. Every 20-30 minutes I would have a wave. I was so happy I could cry. We started to get our room and space ready for labor and delivery. We gave a heads up to my mom and sister as well as the midwife and photographer. It was now October 19th, and this would be the day I meet my daughter face to face.
I kept laboring through the night. The waves were coming quicker and quicker. I was shocked how quickly it ramped up — probably all the walking I was doing. From 2:30-4:00 am the waves were between 4 and 8 minutes and around 4:30 am things shifted, and the surges were consistently every 2-3 minutes. Around 6:30 am the birth photographer arrived; she was also acting as my doula.
The waves were still 2-3 minutes apart for the next couple of hours. I got into the birthing tub, took a shower, walked up and down the stairs. Anything to keep from sitting or lying down since that made it so much worse. I kept my praise and worship on throughout and vocalized through every contraction. One time, I tensed up to prepare for the contraction, and I quickly noticed how painful the contraction was instead of just how intense and overpowering they were. Instead of bracing for the contractions for the next couple hours, I rode the waves. I also noticed that I didn't want to be out of water. I was either in the shower or in the birth pool for most of labor.
The midwife and nurse arrived around 12:00 pm, and I was thrashing at this point. I truly felt like my skin was crawling and I remember SO much pressure on my lower region and back. It's not what I expected to feel. I figured she turned and was giving me back labor. Not fun! I had been laboring for a little over 12 hours at this point and I was getting close to entering transition, and I knew it. This is also when things started to get really tough — tougher than I could have imagined.
For the next couple of hours, I tried my hardest to just focus on knowing my baby would be here soon. I kept saying “I hope I am almost there.” The midwife assumed when she arrived that I was close to transition but was unsure why it stalled, and I hadn’t had the baby yet (of course this was not discussed with me until after delivery) but deep down I knew what everyone was thinking because I was thinking it. Transition does not take hours and hours. I should already be done.
Most of the contractions between 4:00-5:00 pm were spent in the tiny, dark bathroom by myself where I could roar and moan and pant and cry by myself. I was begging God to not have to be transferred and for me and baby to be okay. I told him that I needed supernatural strength. I needed a light at the end of this dark, cold tunnel of labor land. While I was coming down after another wildly intense contraction, I heard the Holy Spirit say — cervical lip.
I left the bathroom, and for the first time, I asked the midwife to check me. Then I immediately went back into my bathroom cave to work through a couple more contractions in the shower. She finally checked me but didn’t tell me the dilation because I didn’t want to know. I heard whispers outside the bathroom door. I felt as if they were discussing a backup plan of action. I was so discouraged.
Around 5 pm, Jared came into the bathroom and prayed over me and little Long. Jared told me they wanted me to try a couple of things and that he thinks I should remain open to their ideas. I could tell in his voice and in his eyes that if these few techniques didn’t work, I may be transferred to a hospital — not due to any danger but because of exhaustion and possible suffering if I did not progress. I roared one more contraction and then came out of the bathroom ready to do what needed to be done.
Before I finish telling my birth story, please know that up until this point, I rarely felt pain. It truly is just an overwhelming sense of intensity that is indescribable, but I wouldn’t call it pain.
My midwife told me what was going on. I had a cervical lip (knew it!) and the baby was not in the best position to be descending properly. The plan was for the midwife to hold my cervix open manually as I contracted to help get past the lip, to perform Side-Lying Release to help reposition the baby and the Walchers Pose for baby’s positioning. They also called a chiropractor to come to the house to adjust me and apply pressure points.
We began moving through the plan. My midwife held open my cervix while I contracted. Pain. I felt so much pain. I had to lie down(which I already hated while I was laboring) through 2 contractions. I finally told her I couldn’t do a third contraction and I immediately stood up and cried. Step one was done.
Step two: besides having to lie still during the contraction the side-lying release position offered some relaxation. I held that position for a couple of contractions and then I was done. Almost there.
For the final position — and the most exhausting — I returned to the birth pool and straightened my body completely out with my hands gripping the outside handles and my feet on the other side outside the tub, so my body was completely straight hanging above the water. I literally felt as if I was having an out-of-body experience every time a contraction hit; I wanted to die. I worked through a couple of contractions and then couldn’t go on anymore.
I finished holding this position. Thank God it was over. I rested in the pool for a minute to catch my breath. Then the birth photographer told me the chiropractor was ready. I went back into my bedroom and laid down for her to make sure I was properly aligned for baby’s descent. My pelvis was happy so all she needed to do was work some pressure points to get the baby to start dropping more.
I laid there for maybe 30 minutes and while she was pressing on my spine, my contractions started to shift. I started to feel like I needed to poop. I started to roar instead of moan. It happened little by little, but I noticed the transition, I was entering the second stage of labor. I was beginning to push. Thank you, God was all I could think.
I was now on my bed gripping my headboard — white-knuckling. My contractions were no longer contractions, it was fully just me bearing down and my body pushing on its own. I let my body do all the work. I welcomed the urge to push, I welcomed the primal roar that was coming from deep inside me. During one of the pushes, my water broke. What a sweet release.
I got off the bed to take my underwear off (can’t have a baby with those on) and the midwife asked me if I wanted to use her squat rack to birth, but the waves were happening so quickly, I could barely tell her yes or no. I just kept squatting next to the bed. Jared reminded me I wanted to birth in the pool and even though the pool was only 20 feet away, I couldn’t bring myself to go get in. I decided hands and knees on the bed sounded the best.
I kept pushing, and the urge to push came quicker and quicker. The midwife reminded me to feel my baby's head and pause when I felt the ring of fire.
Everything was a blur. I felt her head, I felt her crown. I rolled my eyes back and roared her head out little by little. I felt her whole head come out and before my body could produce another push, her body followed. I felt my body empty. The midwife told me to grab my baby. I reached between my legs, and I saw my daughter for the first time.
Instantly I felt relief and started crying. I looked at her. I looked at Jared. My family. She’s home.