The following words were written by Leon’s mother as she reflected on pregnancy and birth.

I had been exposed to Ina May Gaskin's Spiritual Midwifery as a teenager, so for many years, I had envisioned natural birth at home as right, romantic, and rewarding. But, when I became pregnant, my insurance informed me that nothing but hospital would be covered, so I resigned to a new vision, and that was that. At our hospital, my husband and I took a Low Intervention Birth class. We found it very helpful. I would come home from these classes full of faith in us, telling him, "Love, I just want you." I wrote a birth plan intending my husband to be my sole support, and articulating our intentions for a serene, spiritual, trust-building birth.

But as my due date neared, our wishes evolved and my birth team expanded. First, the soul-seeing photographer Lindsey Rivera; next, friend and doula Lexie Kaelin. Finally, forty weeks of pregnancy arrived and I was so, so ready!! I had been dilated a few centimeters and plagued by lightening pain since thirty-six weeks, giving me both endless discomfort and repeated dashed hopes that labor might have begun. I desperately wanted to birth.

Enter the coronavirus. Just as I hit forty weeks, hospitals instituted patient companion restrictions. I was told I could no longer have my birth team as planned. Suddenly I felt kinship with Biblical Mary-- ready to birth, but no room in the inn! A day of anxiety on the phone exploring my options ended in relief when heroic midwife Gloria Moore committed to deliver me in my home, my birth team intact, and insurance ignored. Phew! I would have the home birth of my dreams after all!

The last few days leading up to labor radiated with the happiness of long walks, family time, and readying our home to receive our baby. After I awoke on Friday the 13th of March, waves of dull back pain let me know I was entering labor, for real. I was more giddy with excitement than bothered by the pain (or worried by the date). I hurried to have sex with my husband before the birth team arrived. As everyone assembled, I was 5 centimeters dilated. "You're going to have your baby today," Gloria said, bringing on my tears.

I labored in good humor, barely registering any pain, into the afternoon. We took a walk, told jokes, read from my journal, snacked, and hot tubbed in the family room. The good humor was a little too good. We decided to break my water to move it along. The evening hours between breaking my water until pushing are a blur to me; I recall the onset of true pain, then hip squeezes, and taking a nap on my bed. By the time I awoke and was 10 centimeters, I was eager to push toward the end of a long day.

But my pushing didn't see much progress. We transferred me from the bed back to the tub. I pushed, and sputtered, and pushed, and wailed. Everyone supported me by my limbs and with kind words, but I was aggressively exhausted. My faith was breaking. I could feel my baby's head, unmoved from the same station, for hours. "I can't do this! Take me to the hospital! Just cut me open and get it out!" I begged one by one of everyone surrounding me. It felt dire, but Gloria held her ground. I was close, even if it didn't seem like it. I'm so grateful that Gloria stuck with me.

My husband asked for the room alone with me. With the lights dim, in our solitude, I retreated into my mind. A variety of thoughts: "This might take a long time, still. If I can learn how to push productively, I can do this. It's just a learning curve. My Heavenly Parents want me to have the birth that I want. Breathe down, and out." I listened for that urge to push, finding a rocking position on my knees. Like praying, with legs spread. I followed my body's cues for hours more this way. Every few minutes, I would look up at my husband, then at his right or left hand in which he was holding water and a peanut-buttered bagel. Push, bite, sip. After that last bite of bagel was gone, I guess my funny body decided, let's finish this.

The team reentered the room. I gripped my husband's hands over the wall of the tub, and gritted my teeth to push. Baby's cone-shaped head emerged, just eyes, wide open, looking around. And then just like that, he was fully in this world. It was nearly 2 AM. Somehow, all of my original intentions for this birth were achieved with integrity! Yet the support of every single person who tended us was necessary. I felt such triumphant self-respect and relief, and my husband such pride. We floated cloud-like on these emotions for the next week at least. Especially considering others' plights because COVID-19, we are immensely grateful that it gave us the blessing of this birth.