🌿 the arrival of fern: a birth story from the forest floor
fern lucia elizabeth 12/6/2025
holy cow. my baby is here. what a release. what a blessing. what a journey. here comes the sunset just for you, little baby.
//she’s asleep in my bed and i am stiff and banged up. the full moon pulled at my tides. dec 7 2025////
The congestion in my face became a faucet of a nose. for so long, i held fears in my body, but they finally left me in tears as i watched videos of people giving birth gently at home—hearing the sacred, guttural sounds made when a baby is pushed into the world.
at 4 a.m., with the moon high in the sky, i felt an intense pressure at my cervix. my water spilled out of me, waking me from a dream. in the dream, my cancer grandpa willard was up on the steep hill, tending his burn pile and telling us to pick up our trash… in his very loving way. i got out of bed and i started laughing as i swayed on the toilet. the squeezes were coming fast and productive. oxytocin began to flood my bloodstream. my baby was coming.
i managed early labor like a pro—swaying and laughing and crying. i kissed chris and visited the roses blooming in my garden. i admired the fire in the woodstove and the moon shining through my window. what a lovely place to birth, i thought.
chris finished a quick breakfast and began timing my contractions. they were moving closer and closer together. of course, this was the morning the little country bridge over the river was closed for road work. the midwife would have to take the long, windy road around the canyon.
a week before, i had chris hang a yoga hammock from the kitchen ceiling—a place where i could be supported and use gravity to move. as the surges picked up, i got tucked into my swing. i was on my hands and knees on a sheepskin, the hammock supporting my big belly. i could rock and sway with all my weight held, the fabric keeping the baby in a good position.
i needed chris to apply pressure on my sacrum with every surge. the sun was rising and the big moon was setting. all the kids were still in bed. i’d yell chris! and he’d push on my lower back, rocking me in my swing. sprig woke up and helped her daddy push for a few surges. i told chris to put on some daniel tiger for her—i was afraid of getting distracted and losing the momentum of the labor.
i knew i was in transition. i told chris to get the hot compresses and towels ready because the baby would be here soon. at 9:00, the midwife arrived. it was such a relief to have another set of hands for support.
i was ready to push, and tried bearing down a bit— i pushed with all of my might with the next surge, and felt her head free from my pelvis into the birth canal. i pushed again with such a force, that i felt myself scream in my throat i remembered to lower it to a roar to keep the power in the push. she left my body into her daddy’s hands.
i pushed fern out at 9:25 a.m.
with great joy and release, i looked down at the little being who had just made that journey out of my body. the little person who had been moving inside of me. i couldn’t wait to meet her. i had been pregnant for nearly ten months, and the high was powerful. i yelled for sprig, and she came right over to meet her baby sister.
baby fern weighed 9.5 lbs. she was tied up in her cord around her shoulders, so i’ve been massaging her stiff little neck and back. it took a week for my milk to come in, and i’m so glad it finally did, because this baby was starving.
postpartum so far has been a rollercoaster of busted expectations and reality checks—another story to tell for another day. for now, fern is healthy and thriving. i’m healing well, even with a case of gnarly mastitis. i’ve been blessed with your prayers, your thoughts, and your generous gifts. a special shout-out to my three aunts who have blessed me with so much love.
we are home. we are whole. sprig is washing her baby sister right now with a baby wipe and singing to her while i write this. Fern is not too happy about it. i start my life now with two little girls and two big boys and the love of my life— (i’m updating this post in january and my heart feels so full.) happy solstice, blessed new year.
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