Orthodox Christian Birth Story: Lindsay’s Redeeming Home Birth

I think, in order to best appreciate the story of my first Orthodox birth in 2023, you have to know at least a little about my first birth in 2019. I became pregnant unexpectedly (my husband Caleb and I had planned to wait until 2020 to try and have kids, but in retrospect, I’m glad we didn’t depend on that plan). Then another surprise came when we found out, at my first ultrasound appointment, that I was carrying twins. With birthing center dreams thrown out the window, I did my best with the knowledge I had to reach for a vaginal, unmedicated birth. We attended hypnobabies birthing classes, hired a doula, and at month 5, I switched to the most-likely-to-support-vaginal-twin-birth obstetrician in my area.

In the moment, I was pleased with the twin birth I had. Even though Baby B was breech, I birthed both vaginally, and I was so relieved to get to rest, I didn’t notice or care that my babies had been whisked to the NICU. Years later, however, after learning more about physiological birth, obstetrics, and the mother-baby dyad, I regretted a lot about my decisions, the hospital’s policies, and how the OB treated me and my body on many occasions.

Once I finally came around to the idea of having more children (thank you, Orthodoxy), and once I was pregnant again shortly after, I knew I wanted to do everything I could to pave the way for a very different birth.

How I discovered Traditional Midwifery

Thank God I just happened to be introduced to another mom, Kelly, at a casual homeschool gathering. She had recently had a home birth with a traditional midwife who was also Orthodox. I had 2 appointments with licensed home midwife groups and didn’t know much about traditional midwives at the time. Honestly, one of my main concerns at the time was if my insurance would cover any of these options. But Kelly said something that really struck me about Obstetrics and even Licensed Midwifery, she said, “they don’t trust birth.”

This comment seemed audacious and shocked me because, isn’t birth unpredictable? Surely birth isn’t to be trusted like she’s implying. Thus started my deep dive into the workings of physiological birth, the hormone matrix of birth and how it protects the mother and child, and how disruptions - let alone medical interventions - disturb that delicate hormonal dance and introduce risk.

My understanding of birth was now far away from where I started in 2019. I was now feeling genuinely empowered and like I had some real control over what my birth would look like. Yes, there are still anomalies that can lead to genuine dangers in some extreme cases, but, with my Orthodox midwife at my side educating me further, I was learning how my normal, healthy pregnancy meant I was in the safe zone. If I protected that further with a high-protein diet, low processed foods, plenty of electrolytes, etc., there really was no need to worry.

A discussion of pain in labor and how to manage at home

As I got closer to my inevitable home birth, though, I began to feel intimidated by the coming pain. With my first birth, the pain of the intense contractions jarred me out of my peaceful self-hypnosis. My reaction had been one of fear, and I asked for pain medication to help me cope. That led to a small cascade of interventions, and with this new birth, I desperately wanted to avoid that.

Looking for other ways to manage the pain, I chose to use my midwife’s birthing pool. I also came upon the freeing ideas that the pain of childbirth need not be suffering. The body’s sensations are something to be surrendered to, not escaped or dulled. But, still feeling scared, I did lean on the hope of that birthing pool.

Turns out, the birthing pool never got set up, because my midwife didn’t make it on time! What was meant to be a midwife-attended home birth turned into a doula-and-husband-attended free birth, but thanks be to God, it was the most perfect birth I could ever have imagined for myself.

Surrounded by a Holy birth team

Caleb knew the baby was coming before I did. I had sent him and our twins to get the Christmas tree that Sunday afternoon and, let the reader be shocked, I didn’t want to help decorate when they got back home. I stayed in bed resting and listening to a birth podcast while playing Bejeweled on my phone. When I came into the kitchen later and asked for some ginger fried rice with scrambled egg, I mentioned how I’d been contracting for the last hour or so. Caleb told me to go ahead and call the midwife, and I nearly waved him off because I had been having practice contractions here and there for a couple weeks, but I did give her a heads up.

After getting our daughters their dinner, Caleb told me wanted to call the doula. I thought he was being highly preemptive - I was in labor with my first birth for about 14 hours - but he wanted to have support for his own self with getting the kids to bed and such.

While she was on her way, I slept through contractions that were becoming more regular and reliable. When awake and when visiting the bathroom, I would pray to the Theotokos, St. Olga of Alaska, and also my patron St. Brigid (who has a legend of being a midwife at the birth of Christ!). I converted to Orthodoxy not even a year before this birth, and before that, I was dabbling in neopaganism. Around my fourth month of pregnancy, I had bought myself some crystals associated with birth with the goal of having them nearby when my time came. I gradually, but totally, forgot about those crystals and instead spent much more time thinking about how glad I was to have those three holy saints on my birth team.

Transition came faster than expected

Our doula, Claire, arrived around 8pm. I came out of my bedroom for more water and was sleepy but happy to see her. She had been the doula for my first birth, and her calming presence had become very sweet and safe for me. I did apologize for us making her come so early, though, because surely this would be a long night…

Now that I was fully awake from getting up for water, I thought it might be nice if Caleb read to me from my book The Hidden Life of Trees for a while. The poor guy didn’t know how to act when I would have a contraction. “Do you want me to stop touching your hair?” he said. “Don’t ask me questions!” I said. We’ve since both come to solidly agree with a smirk that birth is women’s work. And instead of keeping an uneasy husband nearby during labor, I thought it would be a better strategy for him, firstly, to leave me alone and, secondly, to get some rest for himself because, surely this would be a long night…

I rested alone in my cozy, dimly-lit, womb-like room. I didn’t have music playing or twinkle lights, but it was still so calm and safe. I did start to have some of those excruciating contractions here and there, the kind where I wanted to be out of my body, but standing up helped to keep most of them more manageable. After a short time, Claire the doula came in to check on me. She had said I was vocalizing some. I thought that I wouldn’t need her help at that time, but having her hand on my back and quietly and steadily telling me to breathe and soften during those tough contractions was truly helpful.

I knew that surrendering to the contractions would help the most, but in the moment, it was hard to ride the waves of those painful ones. Having her presence and company helped to keep me grounded and not mentally tossed around while my body went through the valley. I also had given her my phone with the contraction timer app ready for her so that she could keep an eye on my progress and let the midwife know when to come, giving me more mental space to just be with the birth. She did call the midwife right before 11pm as my contractions had quickly started to read 2-3 minutes apart, but I was in the headspace of “slow and steady wins the race” and “this will take a long time.

Before long, we were reminiscing about my first birth, and I was just about to share some strong words about that obstetrician when I found I just wanted to be quiet and zoned in. A few minutes after that, I felt the fetal ejection reflex start to kick in, and that was an amazing moment! It felt wild and amazing, for one thing. My body was pushing my baby out all on it’s own! For another thing, I recognized it for exactly what it was and what it meant. I would be meeting my baby soon!

It was no longer going to be a long night.

The contractions had changed from feeling painful to productive

Roughly 3 hours after she’d arrived, Claire asked if she should go ahead and get Caleb - yes, please! - who hadn’t even fallen asleep. She then called the midwife who stayed on speaker as she finished up her drive to my house. The overhead bedroom lights were on by this point, my mind was active and excited, and my body was moving everything forward beautifully. This part was a highlight for me, because the contractions had changed from feeling painful to productive. I trusted what she was doing, and everything felt right.

Leaning on my bed with my hands and arms, I called out, “I need someone to catch my baby!” Caleb would’ve passed out immediately after, so thankfully Claire stepped in, caught my baby with a towel, and passed them up to me through my legs and woah!

This was hands down the best 10 minutes of my life. Not only did I birth on my own, safely, in my own home, on my own terms - I freaking did it! - but I also get a baby after all of that?! Somehow I had forgotten this in the last few hours, because I felt this rush of almost-surprise and absolute bliss at getting to hold them! I laughed and cried for about 5 minutes halfway laying on the bed holding my brand new baby on my chest with my feet on the ground. What a miracle! And after what felt like much too short a ride on those hormones, Claire and Caleb strongly suggested I get fully on the bed instead of just halfway. This disrupted the hormone rush, but the rest of the night was still wonderful. It was also around this time that Caleb checked the baby’s sex and I became overwhelmed again with our new little girl!

When she’d heard the baby cry the first time over the speaker phone, my midwife, Morgan, declared the baby’s birth time and asked about her breathing, color, and tone. Once she arrived at the house, without any rushing or pressure, she checked how I was feeling and let us relive the birth again in telling it to her. After about an hour since the birth, she offered to externally feel for my placenta and told me it was likely already in the birth canal. She helped me to the toilet where the placenta fell out easily on its own, and she checked it and started some cleanup while I showered and Caleb held our baby. Once I was clean and back in bed, Morgan gave the baby her weight and health check with me right there with her. And once Morgan and Claire had finished cleaning up and had started the washing machine, we realized there was nothing else for them to do but tuck me into bed with baby girl. Morgan made sure the diaper changing supplies were on the bed where I could reach them, and I told them where they could find a small thank you gift from me. Caleb went to bed in his office so I could have a more peaceful night, and goodness! Around 1:15am, I got to snuggle up with my baby and go to sleep.

Reflections of Postpartum

Perhaps another time, I’ll share how my postpartum recovery was also night and day different from my first rodeo. After this birth, I followed the Ayurvedic foundations of postpartum healing, and I felt so well cared for and nourished. Truly, that 40 day season will be a treasure to me all my life, one I thank God for.

I also thank God and His mother for this incredible, safe, healthy birth and our incredible, safe, healthy baby. The next day we named her Margaret Claire, which we had already been considering (and even bickering about when I was in early labor), but what a beautiful coincidence that she shares a name with our doula. We named our daughter for St. Margaret of Scotland who was a true inspiration to me in coming to where I am now as a mother. I hope to follow more of her example and that of the Holy Theotokos, and may they and St. Brigid and St. Olga continue to walk with me toward whatever may come next.