Latch, Laugh, and Repeat

If you asked me six years ago whether I’d give birth unmedicated, I would’ve laughed (loudly) in your face. Give me the epidural, knock me out, heck—cut me open and get that baby out fast. That was my mindset…until I watched my boss’s home-water-birth video.

The Moment Everything Changed

I managed my company’s YouTube channel, and my boss told me she’d uploaded her home-birth video there (unlisted) just to keep it safe. She gave me full permission to watch—and wow. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen: the intimacy, the grace, the sheer power of labor. Her husband literally caught their daughter in the tub, and then later I see her in bed, glowing, her two older children loving on their brand new baby sister. In that instant, I knew I wanted to experience something like that.

But with that revelation came a flood of questions: Why unmedicated? Doesn’t it hurt? How do you even get through it? Why not just do what most people do in a hospital?

Pre-Pregnancy Prep: Breaking Up with Birth Control

Before I even got pregnant, I decided to stop taking birth control. I’d been on it daily—11:00 a.m. on the dot—for a decade, and while it did its job, it had real downsides: mood swings, weight changes, bitchy attitude, feeling “off.” At the time, I was just doing what society told me to do—no questions asked.

Eventually, my body felt like it was failing me. I switched doctors multiple times, leaned on more holistic professionals, and finally concluded that birth control had to go. I started acupuncture to regulate my period and detox my body. I used every tracking tool out there—an Oura Ring for sleep and cycle patterns, a free tracking app, basal body temperature, ovulation strips, you name it.

And Then…Pregnant!

Did I want to get pregnant? Absolutely. Part of me had the whole “if it happens, it happens” mentality, but let’s be real: I’d been daydreaming about a baby well before we’d checked all the so-called boxes. My husband wasn’t quite ready—and I wasn’t about to scheme behind his back—but I can still pinpoint the exact day it happened: April 17, 2023. Let’s just say the stars aligned (or the swimmers crossed the finish line), and… oops! Suddenly, there I was, pregnant much faster than we’d planned. That’s when the real panic set in: Oh God, I actually have to give birth.

Shifting to a Holistic Mindset

Working in the holistic field changed many of my personal habits. I discovered how environmental and emotional triggers can overwhelm the body, realized that food truly is fuel, and recognized how small, consistent changes can add up over time. Once you learn these things, there’s no going back.

I decided to:

• Work with a chiropractor weekly (all through pregnancy)
  
  
• Do bloodwork and labs (important for my Thalassemia Anemia)
  
  
• Choose natural supplements over the standard pills most pregnant moms take
  
  
• Explore meditation, breathwork, bodywork, and total mindset shifts

And above all: I listened to my gut. We’re not all the same, and pregnancy shouldn’t be one-size-fits-all.

Midwives Over a Traditional OB

Talking to a traditional OB’s front-desk staff about wanting a water birth with minimal interventions…yeah, that didn’t go great. I felt judged from the get-go. But midwives? They welcomed me, asked thoughtful questions, and honored my vision while reminding me that things could change anytime—and they’d support me no matter what.

I was still nervous about the pain and terrified of tearing down there. My fear was real. Up until my birth, I had never received stitches. My husband—coming from a family of mostly women—thought I was insane. “Why would you want to do that to yourself?” he asked. Our families and friends chimed in, too, telling me it was risky. But I had an inner circle who believed in me, and I put myself in a protective bubble, blocking out the naysayers.

My Birth Plan: The Birth Center

A hospital felt intimidating. A full home birth felt too far out of my comfort zone (and my husband’s). So I chose a birth center, the perfect middle ground. No, I didn’t hire a doula, but next time I absolutely will—extra hands and encouragement can make a huge difference when it counts.

Side note: During my pregnancy, we bought a house, tackled major renovations, moved, and even got married—all while caring for an elderly dog and a new puppy. I was so busy that I barely had time to stress about labor. In hindsight, it was a blessing: I simply had to keep going!

The Big Day (…Actually, Days)

Contractions started at 11:00 p.m. on January 22, feeling like intense period cramps. I dozed on and off, then by around 3:00 p.m. on January 23, I caught a break and napped. When I woke up, the pain was back, about 7–8 minutes apart. I checked in with the midwives, and they advised me to stay home, eat, and rest until the contractions were too strong to bear.

Early Labor Adventures

We have a shallow bathtub at home, so that was a bust. The midwives kept saying, “Try the shower,” but I wanted zero part of undressing AGAIN, getting wet, then laboring in the cold. I was in denial. My husband was in shock, too—he literally said he needed to sleep for work the next day. Um, sir, your child is coming!

By midnight, I was miserable and went to the midwives’ office for a check. 1 cm dilated, 90% effaced. They told me to go home. I about died. “Go home?!” Are you kidding me? They gave me something to help me sleep, but it did nothing. By 4 a.m., I was at my limit. I told my husband, take me back—NOW.

Finally, Admitted to the Birth Center

I was only at 3 cm—still technically not enough to get admitted (they want you at 6 cm). But I was fully effaced, and I think they could tell I was determined to do this unmedicated. After multiple “Are you sure?” questions, they let me in.

Labor at the Birth Center

The shower there was a game-changer. Squatting under the warm water helped manage the contractions. I was dying to jump in the birth tub, but the midwife wouldn’t allow it until 6 cm— submerging in water can slow labor if you get in too soon.

To hurry things along, my midwife had me push while straddling the toilet (10 out of 10 on the pain scale), but it worked. At last, I was 6 cm and could slip into the tub. Honestly, the water wasn’t the magical pain-reliever I’d hoped for, but it signaled I was one step closer to meeting my daughter.

The Worst-Best Decision: Sterile Water Injections

My back labor was unreal—I couldn’t sit or lean back. Labor is NOT what you see in movies. The midwives suggested sterile water injections, which help dull the intense back pain. They wait for a contraction, then inject both sides of your lower spine simultaneously. The pain of those injections was off the charts (like 10,000/10), but the subsequent relief dropped my labor pain from a 12 to maybe a 9. Not perfect, but enough to keep going.

I also tried nitrous oxide—laughing gas. It was more of a distraction than a pain solution. At this point, I remember asking, “When do I push?” The answer: “When it feels like you have to poop.” And yep, that’s basically it.

Showtime: Catching My Baby…Behind Me?

To be quite honest, I didn’t know what day or time it was my entire stay at the birth center. My water never broke, so at some point in the tub, I felt a weird “kick” under my rib. Surprise! My water just broke. Maybe an hour and a half later, I hit the ring-of-fire—which, for me, wasn’t as horrific as it sounds, but definitely intense. My fear of tearing peaked. Thankfully, everything stayed intact.

With one last big push, my daughter emerged behind me in the water. My midwife told me to reach down and grab her. My first words? “Where is she?” In the chaos, my husband panicked; no one guided my hands. Then suddenly—she was on my chest. Blue, purple, and breathless for a moment. Too long of a moment in my opinion. My midwife quickly blew air into her mouth, and—there it was—her first cry. She was okay. We did delayed cord clamping, and my husband cut through the (massively thick!) cord.

Post-Birth: Shock and Relief

I wish I could say I was showering her with kisses right away, but I was shaking uncontrollably, freezing, and just in shock. They moved me to the bed, put my sweet girl on my chest, and wrapped us up.

Then came the placenta. Normally, it arrives within 15 minutes, but mine took almost an hour. They gave me Pitocin, tried multiple tricks, and finally—after some major pushing—out it came. I got two small stitches (yay for minimal tearing!) and 10/10 rating for my midwife who stitched me back up.

They placed my daughter back in my arms, helped me nurse for the first time, and all but demanded I eat a sandwich. I couldn’t have been more grateful for the calm, supportive care from my midwife and nurse. My baby was never more than an arm’s length away from me, and I was surrounded by women who encouraged me to feel safe—free to laugh, cry, or even be naked and afraid, literally!

As for newborn procedures, I had already done my research on immediate vaccinations. I chose to give my daughter Vitamin K, knowing it helps with blood clotting in case of an emergency—something I can’t always protect her from. However, I opted out of the Hepatitis B shot; I just couldn’t see a brand-new baby needing protection against something involving dirty-needles or unprotected sex.

When it finally came time to pee, I was howling in pain—but we still found moments to laugh. And instead of the usual “You can’t leave until you poop,” I was warned I might never want to face pooping again! Six hours later, we were on our way home—tired, euphoric, and ready to start our new life together.

Reflections & Lessons

• Immediate Bond?: I was still in shock at first. But the moment she latched on to nurse, I felt such pride and love. She was feisty from the get-go, and that breastfeeding bond just clicked.
  
  
• Things I’d Do Differently: Maybe add music, invite my mom or best friends for extra emotional support, or even try a doula. (Half an epidural? Ha—if only that existed!) But honestly, I wouldn’t change the core experience.
  
  
• Your Story Is Valid, Too: Not everyone wants or can have a water birth. Some birth stories involve a hospital, epidurals, C-sections—and they’re all valid and beautiful. You brought your baby into the world; that’s the ultimate win.
  
  
• Homeward Bound: I loved avoiding the hospital stay. No one took my baby away; no one disturbed us every two hours. We got uninterrupted skin-to-skin time and a peaceful home to start our life as a family of three.
  
  
• Self-Discovery: The biggest lesson? How strong I am. My body and mind withstood what I once thought impossible. Birth is 80% mental, 20% physical. You lose yourself in the process, but you gain an incredible new version of you—stretch marks, leaky boobs, and all.
  
  

A Note on My Husband’s Support

He wasn’t 100% sold on my birth plan at first, but he remained curious, asked questions, and never made me feel truly crazy. Knowing he was there with me, letting me vent my fears, was huge. I might have seemed bossy or controlling at times, but he rolled with it.

Final Thoughts

This was my birth story. I’m not here to say it’s the “best” or the only way to do it. Everyone’s journey is different—and that’s okay. The goal is a safe, healthy experience that respects what you need. Water birth was right for me, and I’m grateful it turned out so beautifully (pain and all).

If you’re curious or thinking about going unmedicated, trust yourself. Do your research, surround yourself with the right support system, and remember you’re a freaking goddess. We are designed to create and deliver life, and every single path to that outcome is awe-inspiring.

No matter how you bring your baby into the world, I’m proud of you. Because birth is a miracle—whether it’s in a tub, an operating room, or anything in between.

Ready to Share or Ask Questions?

I hope my story inspires someone to trust their own instincts, push their limits, or just appreciate another mama’s perspective. If you have questions or want to share your experience, I’d love to hear it. We’re all in this together, and every birth story deserves a standing ovation.

(Disclaimer: This is my personal experience, not medical advice. Consult your healthcare provider for individualized guidance. You do you, mama!)