My Second Home Birth: A Story of Trust, Physiology & God’s Design

This story will probably be longer than my actual labor and birth.

My first pregnancy went to 42 weeks and 5 days, so mentally, I was prepared for another long pregnancy. But no matter how much preparation you do, the end of the third trimester can still feel long.

You’ve been pregnant for approximately 47 years. You’re trying to nourish your body for labor, prepare for postpartum healing and a robust milk supply, get enough rest, stay active—and, in my case, do all of that while chasing a toddler and running a business.

By Sunday morning, at 41 weeks and 2 days, I was trying very hard to resist a bad attitude to be frank.

On the way to church, I remember telling my husband how completely done I was with being pregnant and how ready I was to meet this baby.

If I had only known I would be holding my baby about 15 hours later, I might have kept my mouth shut.

The compliment I still remember

At church that morning, a woman went out of her way to tell me I looked beautiful.

I will never forget it.

So here’s a little public service announcement: If you ever have the opportunity to sincerely encourage a very pregnant woman, do it.

Because when you’re 41 weeks pregnant, someone looking you in the eyes and telling you you’re beautiful hits differently.

It genuinely changed my heart that morning.

And there is actually some fascinating physiology behind why pregnancy and postpartum can feel so emotionally tender.

Pregnancy and the transition into motherhood are periods of profound neuroplasticity. The maternal brain undergoes structural and functional changes in networks involved in attachment, vigilance, emotional processing and responsiveness to a baby. Your brain isn’t simply dealing with changing hormones—it’s reorganizing itself for motherhood.

I find that incredible.

It also reminds me why guarding what we allow into our minds during pregnancy and postpartum matters. The people around us, what we consume, what we repeatedly think about—it all becomes input to a nervous system undergoing enormous adaptation.

One of the simplest postpartum habits I recommend? Skip the middle-of-the-night doom scrolling while you’re nursing.

Your 3 a.m. nervous system does not need breaking news, Instagram comments and someone’s terrifying birth story.

Wait…is this labor?

Sunday evening rolled around, and we were getting our toddler ready for bed.

I started having a few uterine cramps, but nothing worth getting excited about.

As we got ready for bed, the cramping continued. I climbed into bed fully expecting that maybe I’d have some contractions overnight and would just need to work through them.

I was in bed for not more than 2 minutes and I got right back up and found myself on my hands and knees on a mat.

The cramps had very quickly turned into contractions.

And they were coming one after another.

My husband asked if he should start timing them.

“Nah. Why don’t you get some sleep in case this is nothing?”

Very sensible advice… for approximately 20 minutes.

He soon realized we should probably call the midwife.

My midwife asked whether I wanted her to come or wait.

I remember thinking, Ehhh… I hate to have her drive all the way here and then sit around our house for hours if this is going to take a while.

Then the next contraction came.

“Okay. Come now, please.”

She had about an hour drive, and I knew things were moving quickly. Both my midwife and my sister had delivered their second babies in cars so I know how this can go.

My body knew exactly what to do

As I labored at the bathroom counter, I started thinking that my barre certification course (that I got when I was 40 week pregnant with my first, hah) were really paying off.

I naturally kept finding myself on my tiptoes in a deep squat. That position made it easiest to relax instead of resisting what my body was doing.

And this labor felt completely different from my first.

My first labor included back labor throughout. This time, the contractions were intense—but then they completely let go.

The breaks felt luxurious.

That rhythm of labor is one of the things I find so fascinating about birth. A contraction is not simply “pain happening.” It is coordinated physiology: uterine muscle contracting, cervical change occurring, hormones and nervous-system signals interacting, followed by a period of release and recovery before the next wave.

Your job isn’t necessarily to make labor happen.

So much of birth is allowing physiology that already knows what it’s doing to unfold.

Is the tub ready yet?

Meanwhile, my husband was scurrying around trying to pump up and fill the birth tub.

I asked him twice if it was ready because I was very ready to get in.

I didn’t have a goal of actually giving birth in the water. I just wanted the option, and I knew warm water could provide some relief.

Finally, with the tub partially filled, I climbed in.

By this point, our student midwife had arrived.

As I labored in the water, she calmly said, “Let me know when you start pushing.”

The next contraction came.

“Pushing.”

Eight minutes later, our second baby was born.

My husband caught him behind me, and our student midwife helped bring him through my legs and onto my chest.

“Boy or girl?” I asked.

Another boy.

He took his first breath.

As he mustered up that first little cry, our midwife—who had just reached our house—heard him from the front door.

She made it.

Technically.

And that was a wrap

About an hour of cramping.

Three hours of labor.

Eight minutes of pushing.

And that was it.

What makes the story even wilder is that both of my babies weighed exactly 8 pounds, 3 ounces and were born within six minutes of the same time of night, both right before midnight.

Tell me our bodies aren’t fascinating.

I birthed the placenta in the tub, showered, and then we all snuggled in for our first night together.

Everyone where they were supposed to be.

So…was labor fun?

At one of my postpartum visits, my midwives asked me:

“So, are you in the labor is fun club now?”

I actually had to think about it.

“Definitely not.”

Would I ever want to grow a baby inside my body and not experience bringing that baby into the world through labor and birth?

No.

There is something about experiencing the full arc of pregnancy and birth that I deeply treasure.

But was it fun?

Ehhhh.

I wouldn’t want to do it every day.

And I think that’s an important distinction.

Empowered birth doesn’t require pretending birth is easy.

Birth can be intense.

It can demand things from you that you’ve never had to give before.

You can have moments when your body feels impossibly powerful and moments when you wonder how much longer you can keep going.

Courage isn’t needing birth to be comfortable.

It’s realizing that discomfort doesn’t automatically mean something is wrong—and that intensity doesn’t mean you’re incapable.

Five months later

Now, sitting here five months postpartum, I have something to say to the women whose first babies completely rocked their worlds:

Second-time momming ROCKS!

Not because everything is effortless. But there is something different about walking into motherhood again having already learned that you can do hard things.

And that’s probably what I hope another woman takes from my birth story.

Not that your labor will look like mine.

It probably won’t.

Not that home birth is the right choice for every woman.

And definitely not that you’re guaranteed a four-hour labor. Please don’t come find me at 19 hours and tell me I promised you one.

But if you’re pregnant—or hoping to be someday—and somewhere underneath the excitement is the quiet question:

Can my body really do this?

I hope my story gives you one more reason to believe that it can.

Prepare your body. Nourish it. Move it. Learn about birth. Build a team you trust. Ask questions. Protect your mind. And then remember that at some point, preparation gives way to surrender.

I couldn’t control when labor began.

I couldn’t orchestrate every contraction.

I couldn’t consciously coordinate the thousands of physiological processes required to bring my baby from inside my body into my arms.

And thank God I didn’t have to.

The same God who designed the body also designed processes within it that happen without our conscious command.

My job wasn’t to manufacture birth.

It was to prepare well, trust deeply, and then participate in what my body had been designed to do.

Another beautiful home birth.

The same incredible birth team.

And the most wonderful, supporting husband through all of it. Although he did tell me later he thought him figuring out the birth tub was more work than me going through labor. I’ve decided to just take that as a compliment that I made labor looked seamless.

And another precious little boy God was beyond gracious to entrust us with.

All glory to God.

Makayla and Kristen, my amazing midwives with Barefoot Birth.