My Accidental Home Birth
The home birth I definitely didn’t plan…
but would do again.
My daughter Noe's birth story is nothing like the very specific birth plan I wrote with my doula months before her arrival. She was born at home. I had NEVER planned on having a home birth, even though my husband was born at home (and I live in San Francisco where it's not totally unheard of). My first birth 2 years prior had been in a hospital, and unmedicated. I labored for about 16 hours total, pushing for 2.5 of those. I was so exhausted by the end that I needed an oxygen mask and my husband had to physically hold me up to push, missing the sight of our son emerging. After that I couldn't have imagined being anywhere but the hospital to give birth- what if something bad happened? Well, little Noe didn't give me much choice.
It was the day after my due date. I had had my last appointment with my OB the day before, where she had given me my third membrane sweep in 10 days to speed things along. If you've ever had a membrane sweep you know they aren't fun. Yes, I had 3. I was so uncomfortable and desperate to just get the birth going. I knew she was big just like her brother- and I'm only 5'1. I wanted to have an unmedicated vaginal birth again, and worried that if she came too late she'd be “too big.” I woke up around 6:30am with pretty significant cramping. I told my husband I wanted to get in the bath the way I did when I went into labor with my son. I figured we'd have HOURS before we really needed to start moving so was taking my time. My husband woke up with our toddler, made him breakfast, and put him on the couch to watch TV so he could tend to me and start thinking about getting going.
A little after 7:30am my cramps started intensifying, and I started timing them. They were less than 3 minutes apart. Panicking, I yelled to my husband to call our doula and his mom to come get Otto. He also called the hospital to let them know we'd be leaving soon. My mother in law's house is about 25 minutes away, so my husband quickly started trying to pack the car so we could jump in and leave as soon as she arrived. We expected it would take her a few minutes to get out of bed, feed her dogs, get dressed and head right over, so estimated she’d arrive a bit past 8:00am.
By this point, around 7:45, I had gotten out of the tub (after throwing on some tinted moisturizer and eyeliner- obviously) and moved to the toilet. My happy place for contractions. I remembered spending hours there with my first labor, and how it had made it feel easier to let go. Then I started panicking even more, worried that I was letting go too much, and that I should be trying to keep her in. These were no longer cramps- they were full-blown contractions, and they were far worse than what I had remembered. I quickly realized I needed to get dressed so I could get in the car and get to the hospital as fast as possible. I couldn’t even make it down the hall, so went right back to the bathroom. I remember bracing myself on the wall next to me and thinking "I can't wait to get that epidural" even though that wasn't in my plan at all. It hurt SO bad- and now I know that it was me transitioning.
As my husband ran around getting things ready to go, my toddler wandered into the bathroom with me. He was obviously disturbed by my moaning and yelling, and I could tell he was scared. That to me is still the worst and most heartbreaking part- that he saw his mama in such a vulnerable place, and that it scared him. He came to me as I sat on the toilet and put his forehead to mine, both of us screaming as my husband ran to get our car. “Mama! Mama!” he kept crying over and over, his face right in mine. All I could muster was screaming “I’m ok!” right back in his sweet little face.
All of a sudden I had a moment of total clarity- "this baby is coming right now" I thought. "She's going to be born in this bathroom." I could see my cell phone still sitting on the bathroom counter, just out of my reach. "Otto, get mommy her phone" I managed to say, and he miraculously followed this direction. I called 911 and told them my address and barely squeaked out my phone number and situation. The woman on the phone ACTUALLY TOLD ME TO CALM DOWN. Yes. She told me to “calm down” as I clamped my legs together trying to keep my daughter's head inside of me. My husband finally came back into the apartment, unaware at what had transpired in the 5 minutes he was gone (we live in a city, and parking is hard to come by. That’s what took him so long to retrieve and pack the car!) and took stock of what was happening. I had moved at the direction of the 911 operator’s advice to find clean towels. So I was now kneeling with my arms and head resting on the cold wall of the tub. I felt the ring of fire, and just remember screaming "she's coming!" over and over again to no one in particular, but I guess myself. As my husband came to the doorway, he saw my daughter's face staring back at him. He ran to my side and said "push!" and with 1 more big push, she was completely out.
He flipped her right side up and started rubbing her back and patting her, hoping to hear her cry. She must have been so shocked to have come out so quickly- she was a bit stunned at first and worried us with her grey color and quiet demeanor. He handed her back to me and went to console Otto, as I quickly inspected her and prayed for a cry to come. At that exact moment both my mother-in-law AND the paramedics walked through the door. My mother in law whisked Otto into the bedroom and a tall, white-haired, heavy-booted paramedic walked into my bathroom and took a quick gaze before saying "oh she looks great!" She finally started to cry. It was the greatest sound I had ever heard.
They took a look at the both of us and decided we were ok. They threw a sweatshirt over me, covered me with a sheet, and with Noe still attached by umbilical cord, loaded the both of us onto a gurney. They wheeled us down the hall and out the front door of our building, my son calming down with his grandmother in the bedroom, and put us in the ambulance. Little Noe was quiet again, resting on my chest, and we chatted and laughed with the paramedics in the back of the ambulance like the biggest thing that ever happened to us hadn’t just happened.
When we arrived at the hospital our room was ready, of course, because they had been expecting us. The nurses sat there stunned and said “Oh we were wondering where you were!” I delivered the placenta and held my baby skin-to-skin in the labor and delivery room, still completely stunned at what had transpired. I asked my husband to check his phone call logs to figure out a time stamp for each event. She had been born at 8:19.
Even though the unpreparedness made it a bit shocking to the system, it wasn’t traumatic (Otto might tell a different story). If I were to ever have another baby, I would absolutely consider having a home birth. Something about it was so empowering, and aside from the initial worry about her lack of crying (she makes up for it now) it wasn’t scary at all. I know a home birth isn’t for everyone or every situation, but having my “accidental” one really helped me see the beauty in it, and reinforced the idea that most births don’t need to be medical events, but rather sacred familial ones.
Otto continued to process and tell the story of “when baby sister was born in the bathroom” for months. He would sometimes imitate the noises I would make, and say that it was scary. It’s been 9 months now and he hasn’t brought it up in a while, but on the rare occasion he does we do our best to normalize his experience and empathize with the feelings it brought up for him. He’s even started to say he wants another baby- so he can’t be TOO disturbed, right?!
