Trigger warning: pregnancy, abortion, birth, postpartum
The day I found out I was pregnant, I went to the beach. I swam in the ocean. I worked that day, but I took these few hours to soak up the sun, the sand, and the water. On the way home I stopped at CVS in Mount Pleasant and bought two pregnancy tests. I listened to the song “Dirty AF1s”. I drove home across the Arthur J. Ravenel bridge. I looked out over the water and thought about how I had in less than two years time, moved across the country with only a carload, broke up with my partner, lived in four different home, worked three different jobs, navigated a pandemic, started dating my partner – I will call him “J”, and was now step-momming three girls five days a week. I didn’t really think I was pregnant but looking back, something within me knew, absolutely. I mean obviously my body knew. It was creating a baby after all.
I had always thought I would wait to have a baby until I was in the most stable place of my life, with someone who I knew would be a great other parent to my child whether or not we stayed together forever. The situation I found myself in now was the exact opposite of all that. I didn’t even know if I could get pregnant. I started down at the pregnancy test in my hand, my heart pounding and my head was screaming “No, no, no…not now. Not him.”. I was so worried about hurting the three older children my partner already had. I was worried especially for the oldest, who had just turned 9, the day we found out actually. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt them or drastically change their life even more than it had already been in so many ways during their short lives. I was scared. Nothing was the way it should be. My partner and I were not on solid ground and we barely knew each other. What should have been an exciting, breathtaking, happy moment, was not for either one of us.
I found out in the evening. I had been drinking over the past month, mostly tequila shots after work, and smoking American Spirits, light blue. I thought that when I got pregnant I would have months of eating correctly and taking prenatals beforehand, etc. I was so worried that I had hurt my baby already.
I decided to make an appointment both ways, to keep the pregnancy or terminate it. This was only a year before Roe Vs. Wade was overturned and human rights were taken away for people with uteruses in South Carolina. I made an appointment for an abortion because I was not sure I could justify bringing a baby into a situation that was so bad, where they wouldn’t be met with pure love from every side and utter excitement all around from the very moment of conception. I didn’t think that was fair to the baby or to anyone else. It wouldn’t be wise to keep the pregnancy going. It would maybe even be a selfish decision to keep it. I also made an appointment with the clinic though to see how far along the pregnancy was. Because I had been treating my body like trash, if it had been eight weeks or more since the pregnancy began, I decided that was even more of a reason to terminate the pregnancy because there were even more risks associated. I also made an appointment for a “First Pregnancy Visit” check up first. If it was only a month along, maybe the right thing to do would be to continue the pregnancy. I just wanted to choose the right decision.
I told my best friends, I asked J what he thought. He was scared too. He was trying to be supportive of my decision either way, but I could tell he absolutely did not think this was a good idea, and who could blame him? I told him, sobbing, that I would just have to have the abortion, and it would “just be another hard thing on top of the pile of all the other hard things” that had already happened in our relationship, and in my life overall.
Every time I thought about not keeping the baby, I cried. My heart broke with the thought of it. My heart and my logical brain wrestled. Logistically, we didn’t even feel like we could afford the abortion, let alone another child. After a day or two of thought, I canceled the appointment for termination. I told myself I would re-make it if I needed to, but we had made the decision to proceed for now. We went to the appointment a few days later, wearing our masks because we were still facing a global pandemic as a society, although the fear had slightly lessened.
I got the ultrasound. The baby was okay. I was only about a month along. I knew then, I made the choice, I would give this baby the best life I possibly could. I went into action mode, planning furiously. I had checklists out the wazoo. Although I was still scared and overthinking every single thing, I decided to do my very best whether I felt ready or not.
I traced my ovulation dates back and realized he was conceived Fourth of July Weekend, on the edge of a cliff (literally). I started reframing everything as serendipity.
I still think that if I hadn’t had Kai then, his little spirit would have made his way to me at a better, perhaps more grounded time, but I do believe he came for a reason at that time and I am so, so grateful for him.
J and I spoke about whether it was going to be a girl or a boy and J said he was a little scared to have a boy since all he knew was having girls. I tried to remind him that babies are just babies all the same, and not much would really be different in the baby department of things. Even so, we did have a lot of girl things from the other three kids at the time so clothing and things like that would be easier over the years (if we stayed together anyway).
Later on in the pregnancy, I took the NIPT test and the bloodwork was hard for them to get for some reason (I apparently, weirdly and annoyingly, have “small veins”…I have even been turned away from donating blood for this reason) so getting blood work is always a big issue. So the first time I got it done, they were unable to give me results. The second time, I had an incredible nurse and she used a “butterfly needle” which apparently is not best practice but worked wonderfully for me. I started to have some feelings that it was likely a boy, but I was afraid to be too sure and then be wrong.
Before we got the results back, J’s grandmother insisted that we do the ring dangle test. I was a little resistant to someone else deciding to do something like that without asking my thoughts on it first, but I was also anxious and curious to know. I didn’t have my own wedding ring, obviously, so she asked me to hold her’s in my hand first. I sent energy to it. She threaded it onto a string, and dangled it over my palm. She held it still. It stayed still. Then it began swinging back and forth with an intense force. I was honestly shocked! Later we did find out that Kai was, in fact, a boy. I did not have any wish to have a “gender reveal” party because gender is a social construct, but it was exciting to find out either way.
When I moved in with J, I had done a deep cleaning of the entire house. In fact, I could write a whole book;s worth about all the disgusting, nasty, shit (and literal shit) that was all over that house when I moved in. It was like something out of a TV show. It was so bad. So J and I spent hours and hours and hundreds of dollars cleaning, organizing, painting, etc. until it did look much better and different. There were some lingering things though, that we could not fix or could not afford to fix, and it was overall just a very toxic environment. It is embarrassing and painful to discuss so that’s as far as I will go in this paragraph. J had untreated BPD. Borderline Personality Disorder, not to be confused with Bi-Polar. We hadn’t known each other long enough when I found out for me to have seen all of the negative sides, although in the few weeks we had been together, he had already been unfaithful to me. I slowly began to come to my senses and recognize the reality of the situation. Over the course of my pregnancy and postpartum, many holes were punched in the walls, and many of my things were broken or destroyed, including my heart, slowly, one huge painful chunk at a time. Another traumatic book of stories for another day.
One good thing though after all the re-doing is I found one baby item left over from the girls. Most of their baby stuff had been thrown away. We had already started this massive deep cleaning and overhaul when I moved in in May and I found out I was pregnant at the end of July. The one good thing we found that was a baby item was a striped baby outfit that Jay had taken each of the girls pictures in when they were a few months old. So this (fourth baby for him) could have their photo taken in the outfit as well. Very cute. One of those tiny things that made everything feel meant to be somehow. There was a baby swing in the backyard I was ready to throw away and Jay said maybe we should keep it, just in case. Writing this now brings me to tears because Kai never got old enough at that house to swing in that swing. That brings me tears of grief over all that could have been, but they are also tears of joy that hopefully I avoided passing to him any “would be” traumatic memories or stories from that house and all that happened there (not just while I lived there, but for many years before). I digress.
I had picked the name Kai as my top baby name whether I had a girl or a boy seven years prior. I worked in a preschool and there was a little girl named Kailea that went by Kai, and I fell in love with it. I had looked up the meaning and found several things, the main one being “the sea”. When people asked why I moved to SC from MO, I had always answered “For the ocean!” I began to think that I was meant to find more than just the big ole watery ocean. I was supposed to find this blue-eyed blonde-haired beach baby.
There is a lot more to the pregnancy journey. I was working full time, I was sick the whole time, I was trying to raise three other kids who were each struggling in their own way. I spent sooo much time trying to make their space feel like their own, trying to help them feel loved and held and seen in it all. Much of the time and energy that might have been spent contemplating being a biological mom or preparing for the baby was poured into the children because I felt they were the priority.
Though I didn’t feel safe, or in control at all, I did everything I could to cultivate a felt sense of safety and security in my body and pass it to my baby. Even in hard moments I tried to feel calm in my mind, body, and spirit. When my Spotify wrapped for the year came out, “Trigger Protection Mantra” by Jhené Aiko was my most played song of the year. I did everything in my power to prepare, release and surrender where I had to.
I knew I wanted an out-of-hospital birth, and that there was no way in hell I could birth in that house. I was lucky enough to give birth at a Birth Center. Although I felt scared and worried and unsupported at the beginning, as time progressed the birth center was incredible. Each of the midwives seemed to care greatly about both me and the baby. I started therapy when I was about 12 weeks pregnant. It was the first time in my life I had been consistent in therapy, although I had previously been told the varying mental health issues i’ve had since I can remember all stemmed from having C-PTSD. I went to therapy. I kept working full time a my job (in social work) did not offer any sort of maternity care or leave at all.
I double cooked meals and froze the extra. I prepared the house and my wardrobe. I went to the dentist, the eye doctor, the veterinarian and got my license plates updated. I did hundreds of things actually, but it was all things like this, to prepare and make life as easy as possible after the baby came. I journaled and started affirmations. I never actually realized the true power of affirmations until after I gave birth – I always thought they were just a nice sentiment or had a nice positive tone, but no, they are powerful if you back them up properly and choose ones that truly resonate. I now try to do affirmations on a regular basis, every day if I can. I was still running almost every day into my early third trimester. When I started to pee myself every time I ran, I began long, daily walks. Those walks have stuck with me until now, and my son is now 18 months old. I worked while I walked or had a therapy session over the phone or called a friend. It all kept me sane. I did yoga and found some really beautiful prenatal yoga videos that kept me sweaty and strong.
I was so scared of not being able to breastfeed, and scared of everything that comes with breastfeeding. I had been told by my mother that I “wasn’t good at it as a baby”, so I was concerned I might not be able to. I took online courses, read books, and made sure I had contact information for lactation consultants. I was so worried my body couldn’t even make the milk. Eventually, J suggested I try out the breastpump just to see if anything came out and sure enough – I was making colostrum! I can’t describe the relief in this moment, but I definitely still had a long way to go before the fear was completely gone. Honestly it’s only now, after my kiddo is over a year old, that I have fully released the fear around it.
I took a “Building Your Nest” lamaze-style class and it opened my eyes even more to how incredible women’s bodies are. It was empowering to see how the body works, watch videos of gentle, natural births, and learn about what the body and baby does in each step. I learned that transition is the hardest and also usually the shortest part of labor. It is the most painful part, so it is the time when people tend to ask for an epidural. Knowing this fueled my fire that if I could make it through transition, I could do it. I learned about how important it is for our bodies to feel safe and held during labor and birth. Of course, every birth is different and people should birth in the way that feels most in alignment for them, but this was my experience.
The more I learned about placentas and how incredible they are, the more I was having a hard time justifying just throwing mine away. I looked into if there was a way to donate it, even for research, but could not find anything locally. I debated planting a tree over it, but was worried an animal might dig it up and wasn’t sure I wanted my placenta forever in the yard of that house! I finally researched the process for placenta encapsulation and decided to do it even though it was expensive. I have read mixed reviews since this time but I truly believe it helped stabalize my mental health after birth and give me energy, among other benefits.
Two weeks before Kai came, I had one episode of Braxton Hicks. It was rough, but it was just my body practicing. I ate pineapple and dates and spicy foods even though I couldn’t even drink water without heartburn. I did some curb walking, stretched, had sex, bounced on a yoga ball, drank red raspberry leaf and nettle tea, did acupressure massage, meditated, took Dr. Christopher’s birth prep, did the evening primrose oil, did NOT do castor oil, and basically just did everything to help baby on his way, myth or not.
Kai’s due date was March 30th, 2022. Being a first time mom, everyone seemed to think I would go past the due date. I learned that due dates were really more guess dates, and almost never accurate. While I wanted Kai to come in his own time, my anxiety around it with planning and work made me want him to come as close to “on time” as possible. When it got closer to his “due date”, when I was checked it felt as if he may come earlier. I was actively preparing my body, and my body was actively preparing itself. Kai had “dropped into position” several weeks before, a good sign, I hoped, that he would make his way here without complications. I did talk to him in the womb some. I felt a little guilty for not feeling as connected to him as I thought I “should” be? He just felt like an extension of me. I knew that once he was earthside I would feel differently but while he was still a little alien inside me, I had a hard time feeling directly connected to him as a different individual than myself.
“Nesting” is kind of always a thing for me I think, so I didn’t notice a lot of a difference there except for I wanted to have the house perfectly clean at all times just in case we needed to leave at a moment’s notice. I had read the books, watched the videos, checked things off my to-do list, and done most of my work that had a deadline coming up. About a week or two before, I decided I would be okay if he came early. My entire pregnancy I had been listening to some sweet songs such as “You’ll be in my Heart” by Phil Collins, “The Mother” by Brandi Carlile, and “Theodosia” from Hamilton, among others. Which is funny but also makes me teary.
On Monday, March 28th, I went for a checkup at the Birth Center. The midwife checked me (-1 position, 80-90% effaced, and 3 cm dilated). They said they could see contractions but I couldn’t feel anything so they didn’t seem to think it definitely meant he was close. Baby wasn’t moving a lot so they had me play some music for him from my phone held up to my belly. I played “Colors” by The Black Pumas and he moved around. As was routine, I had worked that day and went on my nice long walk. I had been craving a cheesy gordita crunch from Taco Bell for two weeks now but had been afraid to give into the craving in case he came the same day. After going to the checkup I decided it was probably going to be another week at least before I got to meet him so I gave in and got my delicious Taco Bell. I was cramping all the way home. I ate my tacos on the couch, then because it was a Monday evening, we had sent the girls off to school that morning and had a rare night to ourselves. We took things into the bedroom. We were hanging out *winky face*, then my cramps got worse. J suggested timing them. “Nah!” I said, “This couldn’t be labor. My water hasn’t broken and I haven’t lost my mucus plug or anything! Besides, I need to braid my hair and paint my nails and change the litter box and finish laundry before that.” Well actually, he needed to change the litter box since pregnant people aren’t allowed to do that. So we continued chilling on the bed then finally decided to track the contractions around 7:30pm.
Then all of the sudden, they were coming quickly, very quickly. They started at seven minutes apart, then five, and then soon three minutes apart. By that time we had called the midwife. At first she just said to take a warm shower and try to relax, that it may not be the real thing just yet. I was excited to hear that a midwife named Erin was the one on call. Although all the midwives seemed incredible, Erin just seemed extra grounded and her presence had been the most calming to me. J was trying to rush around and eat and get ready. I was yelling “F**********CK” (emphasis on the “uh” sound) over and over, trying to make it as low as possible in my belly, a primal sound. The next time J called the midwife, and she heard me in the background, she said “Yep sounds like labor!”. She said she could try to make it to the Birth Center by 10:30pm. I was ready to leave right then. I had gotten out the mirror to braid my hair but I couldn’t even make it through the first steps. Yes, this is totally vain but it was important to me at the time.
It was over a half hour drive from us in North Charleston to the center in Mount Pleasant. J drove while I was turned around in the passenger seat. I was wearing a light blue Levi’s t-shirt that says “Sunny Days” and soft PJ shorts, both thrifted. I was also wearing my knock off Birkenstocks I purchased specifically to have slide-on shoes for this moment, but ended up wearing so much they eventually had holes in them. Every time I wear those clothes now, I think about giving birth. My water broke on the way there, I was groaning and loudly continuing my “fu***hhhhhck” mantra (Hey, it was working). We finally, finally made it there.
The parking lot was empty, I jumped out onto the ground and continued labor in the parking lot on my hands and knees. Finally, the midwife got there (she had gotten stuck behind a train and waiting for 10:30pm felt like an eternity). They got a wheelchair and wheeled me inside and to the elevator. We made it all the way upstairs. I wanted to get into the birthing pool right away but they had to run the water and wanted to quickly check me and the baby. I asked several times if I could get in before it was ready. I had been so worried that J would have an episode while we were there or during labor, and that I was going to have to manage his experience too, but that wasn’t the case. I had worried about feeling awkward being naked in the moment but when it came time, I couldn’t get those clothes off fast enough. Finally I made it into the water and it felt So. Damn. Good.
I was able to lean into contractions now, and breathe with them. I finally felt I could surrender and really welcome this baby. I asked if I was close to transition soon and the midwife laughed and said “I think you passed transition in the parking lot!”. That really fueled my fire. All I had to do now was relax and push this baby out of my vagina somehow. J had learned a double hip squeeze technique and he leaned over the tub, providing the counter pressure. Between that and the warm water, I made it through the contractions. I remembered “Knees in, Toes out” (Shout out to “The Naked Doula” Instagram account!). I repeated my mantras in my mind. Erin the midwife was intermittently telling me: “Well done.” throughout the contractions and all I have to say is, I would love to have someone say “Well done.” to me in that firm yet gentle way more often. It was very supportive.
In my “baby mama bag” I had snacks, a speaker, a playlist, flameless tea lights, twine and mini clothespins to hang up affirmations, etc. They would have been nice if my labor was longer but I was already so in it by the time we got there, there was no point in even trying to put them up. I was on my hands and knees in the tub, soft blue light surrounded me in the dark room. I asked them to play peaceful music and someone did. In between contractions, there was such utter relief that I could joke and laugh and be present. That surprised me, the relief and how good I felt in between. Eventually it was time to start pushing. I remember the midwife placed her hand on me in different places and would tell me to push towards that spot, and then to stop. This “push, stop, push, stop” was one of the crucial things that helped me not to tear, even a bit. I have never been so grateful for my deep, intimate connection to my body and the practice I have had through yoga at feeling into my body. They checked a few times non-invasively, always asking my permission, just to make sure baby was safe. Soon, I heard “He has lots of thick, dark, hair!”.
I reminded myself that this baby was coming out of me one way or another. I realized it was time. I tried to deepen and deepen and deepen the guttural moans that I was releasing. Breathe. Push. Be here. Be still. Lean into the contraction and let it move through me. The contractions can not be stronger than me because they are me. C’mon baby let’s do this. Then Kai was born. I pulled him up out of the water. Erin helped me sit back so I could lean him on my legs and look at him. We did delayed cord clamping so he was still attached to me, and the cord was very short so that was an odd sensation. I did not cry, but I felt a sense of complete wonder and euphoria as I looked at him. I counted his fingers and toes. I stared at him for what felt like a split second, but then 20 minutes had passed and they told me it may be a good idea to move to the bed so I could birth the placenta.
I moved to the bed, which was SO comfortable. I knew that birthing the placenta was a thing, and I was a little worried about it. It happened though, and that was all good. I had asked to see and have a “tour” of my placenta after the birth and before it was encapsulated, and they obliged. Then the worst part of the birth happened, two painful things. The first was that the midwife had to stick her hand up in me and detach a huge blood clot from the wall of my uterus (I am talking this thing was like the size of a banana and felt like a floppy, slippery, fish coming out of me…so painful and strange) and then I couldn’t pee. I couldn’t pee when I got there because baby was blocking it, but now I just couldn’t pee at all. They told me my bladder was full, but I couldn’t pee. So that was weird and painful and kind of stressful. Eventually I did pee though yay and then the nurse helped me make a blood-soaky-uppy thing made of many layers of pads and that sort of thing. Yum.
They also told me I had to eat an actual meal. The trail mix I brought didn’t count. I gave J my debit card and asked him to get whatever was open and nearby. Oreo shake and french fries from Cookout never tasted so good. Especially the cold ice cream. Yum again.
Then we napped. Which was maybe a little risky looking back because baby Kai was still laying on my chest (he was laying on me the whole time all of the placenta and blood clot stuff was happening) and J was beside me on the bed. We all dozed off though for a few minutes. Then we woke up when the nurse came in. The nurse tried to help me latch him and told me to hold my breast “like a sandwich”. I had no idea what that meant. Between signing papers and hearing instructions and holding my baby and the whole “I’ve just given birth”, I had a hard moment here, and the latching process was a little rough. I was afraid he might not latch at all. He did though, eventually.
They asked for the middle name. I had been stuck between several and 90% decided on “Rocket”. J and I exchanged a look and then went for it. Kai Rocket.
We made it down to the car and I sat in the back with him. The sun was just starting to come up as we drove home around 7:00am. We had to stop and get Ibuprofen because I hadn’t thought of getting any, even though I’d thought of way too many other unnecessary details! We made it home to bed. We had one day dozing in and out of sleep. I shared photos with my friends and loved ones. I was so proud and happy and at peace with the situation for about 24 hours.
The day after, I had to start working. The day after that, I had to drive Kai to the pediatrician by myself because J had to pick the girls up from school and wanted to build a new part of the swingset for the girls. Kai was a little jaundiced so we spent time in the sun. There were lots of very hard, low, painful moments even within 48 hours after giving birth. Financially, emotionally, and mentally, nothing was stable, including me, but Kai was here now. My little Aries baby, just chilling in the world. My son.
However, whenever, wherever you give birth, it’s nothing short of a miracle. Giving birth is literally a communion with Spirit, God, the Universe, Source, whatever you call the force that creates life. As you give birth, you are ushering new life into the world and that is incredible. People are just walking around everyday like birth is no big deal. People do it every day, yes, but every single time it is the biggest, life-changing, powerful, portal into the Spirit world. I am brought close to tears now, seeing or hearing about any other women giving birth, in any way. I am in awe, on my knees, of every person who has ever birthed a child. Women are amazing. Babies are amazing. Life is amazing.
It saddens me how birth is portrayed in the media and how we talk about what is “normal” or not. We have a serious lack of education around natural, unmedicated birth and how empowering it can be. My heart breaks when I hear stories, especially of those close to me, who had traumatic birth experiences or who had their power and voice taken away from them at any moment through this process. I believe every single person will birth in their own unique way. Whether you decide to have an epidural, use nitrous oxide, have a gentle C-section, whatever you decide to do, please just remember that your body is strong, and only you know your body best. No matter what path you choose, whether it’s at a hospital or alone in the middle of the woods, you have choices. Just because someone in a lab coat is telling you what to do does not mean that is what’s best for you. I nerd out on talking about birth stuff, so if you have questions or thoughts, please reach out…I would LOVE to hear from you. I will gladly share pregnancy and birth resources that really helped me. If you are planning to give birth, remember you are powerful, supported, and have options. If you are supporting someone during their birth, honor them by cultivating reverence as you bear witness to the divinity that lives within that person. If you attend a birth, provide a presence that is suitable for the sacredness of birth.
I now live in a different state. I co-sleep and breastfeed Kai on demand. I am a single mom and do not receive child support or childcare from Kai’s father. I work full time and stay home with him full time. I am so grateful for the birth experience we had. It is easily the most empowering and coolest opportunity I have ever had. Thank you for reading, and for giving me a place to share this story!
See below for photos of the birth and copies of our birth plan.
