I went into labor at 2:45am on a Monday in September — and spent almost the entire day convinced it wasn’t real labor. Sixteen hours later, our son was born in a birth pool in our living room. This is the honest version of how it all unfolded: the parts I got right, the parts that surprised me, and the one thing I’d change if I could do it over.

If you’re a first-time mom considering an unmedicated home birth, I hope this gives you a real picture — not a polished one.

The Early Hours: When I Thought It Was a False Alarm

At 2:45am, I started cramping. Not painful exactly, but uncomfortable enough that I had to focus on my breathing. I laid as still as I could so I wouldn’t wake my husband Phillip. He had a long day of office work planned — but funny enough, he’d been up half the night needing the bathroom (which never happens to him). He decided last minute to work from home that day. Looking back, that was a small gift I didn’t see coming. I needed him there.

At 6:30am, I texted our midwife Cori asking if this was Braxton Hicks or the real thing. She thought it sounded like end-of-pregnancy warm-up and told me to rest.

By 8:30am, I texted again: “How bad are these supposed to be in warm up? I’m having to breathe through them and can’t talk through them.”

I felt like a wimp. Everything I’d heard said that real contractions would make my whole belly rock hard. Mine were only ever in the lower pelvis and groin area, which made me second guess myself the entire day. I started using a TENS unit on my lower back which didn’t really help pain wise but felt like a good distraction. I also held a heating pad against the lower pelvis and groin area which was soothing.

The Middle Stretch: Silent, Still, and Stuck in One Position

From 10am to 2pm, I dozed in and out as the contractions slowed. I stayed propped up against pillows in the same spot in bed, sitting straight up was the only position I could tolerate. Phillip kept working from his home office and checked on me between his calls.

Then at 2:30pm, the nausea hit. I called for a trash can but it didn’t make it in time. (Spoiler: getting sick made the contractions noticeably worse unfortunately.)

By 4:30pm, the contractions were picking up speed again. I texted our midwife Cori, still convinced this was just warm-up because the “signs” I’d been told to watch for weren’t happening. She offered to come check on me at 7:15pm. An hour later, I sheepishly asked if she could come sooner…“but if not, that’s okay, I understand.”

Turns out I was 9 centimeters dilated at this point!

Here’s the part I find fascinating now: from 2:45am until Cori arrived around 6:40pm, I labored in complete silence. I had a whole birth playlist ready. Christian hypnobirthing tracks. Essential oils for the diffuser. I imagined a peaceful environment with soft music and calm conversation in between contractions.

None of that happened. Any sound was distracting. I had to be fully focused on my breath and the heating pad. A few times I actually told Phillip to stop talking because losing focus made the pain worse. (Poor guy.) No TV, no oils, no chatting between waves. Just breathing.

In hindsight, that focused quiet was how I coped and probably part of why I made it so far at home without realizing it was fully happening. The other thing that got me through: a breathing technique I’d seen months earlier. I remember watching a woman give birth live on Instagram, and she would use her hands to count- a deep slow breath in for 10 seconds, then out again as long and slow as she could. That became my anchor. Every contraction, this is what I did. It kept my body relaxed instead of tensing up against the pain, which I know made a bigger difference than almost anything else did.

When I Found Out I’d Been in Active Labor All Day

Phillip set up the birth pool around 6:30pm. I half-thought I was being dramatic asking for it, because I still wasn’t sure this was real. He asked once if I’d timed any contractions, and I hadn’t. I only had the mental capacity to breathe through them. (Another huge sign I missed.)

Cori arrived at 6:40pm, checked me, and told me I was at 9 centimeters. I had labored through almost the entire thing at home, in bed, alone, fully convinced it might be fake.

A few minutes later, my water broke.

And something shifted. Up until that moment, I had been almost silent- just rocking, breathing, calm face. The second I knew it was real, a switch flipped. I got LOUD. Like a different person took over my body.

The Birth Itself

I got into the pool at 7pm and the warm water was the relief I’d been waiting for. The intensity was bigger than anything I’d ever felt, but I could tell our baby was close. I had many moments of doubt. Can he fit? Can I actually do this? but somewhere in there, Phillip said I was doing a good job and I held onto that.

Up until that point I had been deep in my own world, but something shifted near the end. I didn’t want to do this alone anymore. I needed him right next to the pool for every contraction.

When the urge to push came, I didn’t have to think about it. No one coached me. No one counted. My body just knew, and I went with it. That part is true- your body really does take over. It’s incredible how we are created!

Here’s my one slight regret: his head emerged and then rested for a bit while my body took a break between contractions. I was exhausted and running on empty (I hadn’t kept anything down all day), and during one of those rests I decided to push anyway, even though my body wasn’t asking me to. I needed to wait. Because I rushed it, I ended up with eight stitches from tearing. If I could do it over, I’d trust the pause and let my body stretch longer on its own.

At 7:36pm, Phillip caught our son and put him on my chest. I felt relief and disorientation at the same time- I was so happy he was here, but also so aware of the pain. The two coexisting was something no one had told me to expect.

We did delayed cord clamping. Phillip cut the cord. Cori did the first weigh and exam. By 10:30pm, everyone was gone and the three of us were in our own bed…our first night as a family.

My Husband’s Take (Because He’s Funnier Than Me)

This is the part of his version that made me laugh out loud:

“She had several small pushes and then two really big ones, and you could see the head, which was kind of weird and gross honestly. Cori had me catch him and he was so slimy and gross. I had to grab him and put him on Catherine’s chest, and when I was about to cry he started to cry, and I absolutely lost it myself.”

I’ll never forget him in those moments

Would I Do It Again? Absolutely.

If you’re considering an unmedicated home water birth, I cannot recommend it enough. It was one of the most unique, empowering, and genuinely beautiful experiences of my life.

I knew from the minute we got pregnant that this was the route I wanted to take. Phillip and I both felt deep peace about it — never fearful, even though it was our first birth. Being in the comfort of our own home let me fully connect with each moment and lean into what my body was doing naturally. I loved being free from interventions, hospital protocols, and distractions that might have pulled me out of that headspace in a different setting. I also felt encouraged by how many prayers were answered along the way- the timing, no prodromal labor, how quickly he came. Little reminders that we weren’t doing this alone.

And honestly? Going from giving birth in the pool, to climbing into our own bed minutes later, to falling asleep as a family of three- all in our home, no car ride, no hospital discharge, no strangers coming in and out. It was one of the sweetest things I’ve ever experienced. I can’t speak highly enough about this type of birth!

What I’d Tell a First-Time Mom Considering an Unmedicated Home Birth

A few things I wish I’d known going in:

Your labor probably won’t look like the movies or even be exactly as you planned. I never used my playlist, the diffuser, or any of the things I’d carefully prepared. That doesn’t mean prep is pointless at all!! It just means flexibility matters more than the plan. Your body will tell you what it needs in the moment and you trust God with the rest.

You might not recognize active labor when you’re in it. Especially as a first-time mom. I’d been told to watch for very specific signs, and when those didn’t happen exactly like I expected, I dismissed real labor for almost 16 hours.

Silence is okay. Loud is okay. There’s no right way to sound. Whatever lets you focus is the right thing.

Listen when your body says rest. Especially at the end. The pause between contractions when his head was crowning was my body’s knowing it needed time to stretch out a little more. I listened to the pain more and now I know better. I will remind myself next time that stiches and not being able to sit directly on my bottom is not worth rushing through the moments of intense pain.

A Few Practical Things I Did to Prepare

For anyone curious about the prep side: I started eating dates and drinking raspberry leaf tea daily at 35 weeks. From 37 weeks on, I added curb walking, regular walks, deep squat stretches, bouncing on a birth ball, pumping, and clary sage on my ankles and feet. I prayed a lot too. He came at 38 weeks and 3 days.

Whether those things actually moved labor along or whether he was just ready, I’ll never know. But I felt good doing them.

A Word About the Postpartum Side

Here’s the thing nobody really prepares you for: the birth is one chapter. The transition into motherhood is a much longer one. The hormonal shifts, the identity changes, the relationship shifts with your partner, the mental load- none of that ends when the baby is in your arms.

This is part of why I do the work I do as a counselor. Walking with women through pregnancy, postpartum, and early motherhood is some of the most meaningful work I get to be a part of. If you’re in this season of preparing for a birth, recovering from one, or somewhere in the messy middle of new motherhood, and you’re looking for support, I’d love to be a resource. You can learn more about working with me here.

Birth is wild and beautiful and humbling. I’m so glad I got to experience it the way I did, and I’m even more glad I get to help other women feel less alone in their own version of it.