Liz's Hospital Water Birth:

Before I introduce you to Liz & Luis, I'd like to start out by saying that had it not been for the two of them sharing this beautiful story during dinner with us one night, months ago, the idea of birthing a "different" way may not have become such a passion of mine. I credit Liz's birth for being one of the biggest reasons why I even got started on this journey and have fought so hard for it. Every time we are around this couple, they manage to blow us away with their wisdom & love for one another. I hope you are blessed by their story of how their sweet baby #2, Daniel came into this world.

"Giving birth is hard work. I’m not trying to romanticize the pain, but I’ve never experienced a more powerful expression of God’s faithfulness and love."


Before my second pregnancy, I expected a regular hospital birth, as I’d had with my first child, Sophia. Looking back on her birth, I was impressed with the sense of being spared the traumas some of my friends went through, namely, emergency c-sections. At times I even felt guilty for how comparatively uncomplicated my labor and delivery was. It certainly had nothing to do with being informed.

I was induced early on a Thursday morning. The decision itself was oddly nonchalant and at my doctor’s suggestion. To my shock, however, in the hours between the Pitocin drip and the epidural, I could not speak or make a sound. The contractions came suddenly and with such force I could hardly breathe. My husband, Luis, was next to me, but all I could ask of him was not to speak to me or touch me. I neither knew what I needed from him nor how to communicate it. I stared at the clock counting or not counting seconds and tightening every muscle in my body. It was all I could do to suppress a sense of panic. We were simply unprepared. So the epidural was sweet relief and a return to sanity. The nurses told me to wait to push. The doctor arrived, and Sophia was born a few minutes later. Being unable to feel anything from the waist down made her appearance utterly surreal. All of a sudden she was in my arms. It was mid-afternoon, about eight hours since being admitted to the hospital.

Not long after my daughter’s birth, a subtle discrepancy entered my mind. I thanked God for my labor progressing relatively quickly and Sophia’s healthy arrival. There was never any doubt in His sovereignty over the way things unfolded, yet I did not believe I would be able to endure labor without pain medication. I depended on it for the next time—a realization that would later catch me by surprise. The question of whom or what would see me through such a daunting experience was not something I thought to explore. Instead, what came naturally was to praise medical science’s ability to block pain and leave it at that.

Drawing strength from Luis’s support and feeling the urge to push, these I felt the loss of, but I was also relieved to have bypassed hours of Pitocin contractions. Still—it bothered me—the numbness in exchange for body awareness, sensation, and the vulnerability of relying on the support of my husband and others. It takes trust to surrender oneself to the prospect of pain, and trust needs a foundation. A part of me yearned for this, but there was also fear.

             Not long after I became pregnant with my second child, Daniel, I was confronted with the possibility of a birth experience much different than my first. It was not a happy thought. I lacked maternity insurance until my twenty-sixth week of pregnancy, and we could not afford the interim cash-patient fees for doctors on my provider list. Meanwhile, every doctor I spoke with considered me a liability for not receiving maternity care sooner.

            This is where things began to change for me. A friend suggested I visit her midwife, April Kermani, and, to my relief, she had no qualms with seeing me though I was over twenty weeks pregnant. For the better part of an hour, I sat on her sofa confessing my desire to give birth free of the interventions I had undergone with Sophia. Try as I might to take a different route, I feared it would likely be in vain. How foolish it would appear to make another attempt, fail, and, in the court of public opinion, suffer needlessly (as if medical science had found a way around the sacrifice a woman yields herself to in childbirth, and the elevation of a simpler, wholly felt experience were mere idealism, perhaps even irresponsible). I wanted to have the courage at least to try.

April referred me to Dr. Harter, a supporter of natural birthing and water births. The idea of a water birth was quite a leap, but it appealed to me immediately. I began reading extensively. Ina May Gaskin's Guide to Childbirth and Birthing from Within was indispensable. I watched documentaries and filmed births. Ultimately, all this equipped me not only with an understanding of what labor and birth was and how to cope but, more importantly, with the capacity to trust: first, in the way God created my body and, secondly, in His ability to see me through whatever happened. I was no longer bound by the fear of not being capable of enduring the journey before me. This brought a quiet sense of peace. It was also exciting! Luis and I decided we would prepare for a hospital water birth with the support of our doula, Naomi O’Callaghan, and Dr. Harter.

The evening before Daniel was born, my contractions began to come at thirty to twenty-five-minute intervals. The next day I was apprehensive about going to the hospital too early, but by 1:00 P.M. something told me we should go—now! Once we were in the car my contractions had become really intense (a relative term, I came to discover) and I wished we’d left sooner! We walked through the parking lot, to the hospital front desk, and up the elevator, pausing every few minutes with each rush (as Ina May refers to them). I buried by face in Luis’s chest and leaned into him. He was a tremendous comfort to me. Dr. Harter happened to be making his way out of the maternity ward as we entered. By the look on my face alone he could tell I was far enough along to be assigned a room. An hour later Naomi finished setting up the birthing tub. Being in the water made me feel weightless and it relieved some of the pressure. But the next couple of hours were by far the most difficult. Naomi’s knowing presence, encouragement, and soothing touch were invaluable. She truly was a birth guardian, affirming the truth by her presence. I concentrated on letting go as best as I could so each contraction worked to greatest effect. It was getting to the point where I couldn’t keep my focus, and I didn’t think I could take any more. Suddenly, my water broke, and I felt Daniel’s head fall. The shock of sensation sent me to my knees from a reclined position. The urge to push was irresistible, but the nurses told me to wait until the doctor arrived. Naomi softly told me to listen to my body. I remember whispering that I didn’t think I could wait for Dr. Harter. And she assured me I didn’t need a doctor to have a baby. Like it or not, I had to push. After two, maybe three, pushes Daniel was born. Dr. Harter arrived in time to catch him with his bare hands and place him in my arms. It was 6:30 in the evening.

I’ll never forget the sight of my baby boy’s dark eyes looking up at me. He was alert and calm and absolutely beautiful. It may have been a hospital, but the space was very private and protected. I think we all felt a deep sense of wonder for this new little life entering the world.

In the weeks that followed, Luis and I would look at each other and marvel at the whole experience. Giving birth is hard work. I’m not trying to romanticize the pain, but I’ve never experienced a more powerful expression of God’s faithfulness and love. It was an incredibly humbling and awe-inspiring gift, and it has given me a concrete metaphor for the way God works in my life. When I feel that I’m at the brink, I’m brought back to the response of Simon Peter: “Lord, to whom shall [I] go? You have the words of eternal life…” I have more to draw from when circumstances seem unbearable because He has always been faithful. In the midst of insurmountable circumstances, He causes me to grow in ways I would not have otherwise, had He spared me from difficulty and utter dependence on Him. This is one way He brings forth life.

Thanks for allowing me to share my story!