Raw, authentic, passionate, calm, grounded, empowered, beautiful, even romantic… are a few of the words I would describe my birth experience
The Birth of Harper Everleigh – Final VersionA Romantic, Redemptive Home Birth: Welcoming Our Daughter, Harper Everleigh
Harper Everleigh was born at home on April 27, 2023, after a romantic, redemptive, five-hour labor. Her birth was everything I had hoped it would be—calm, empowered, and deeply intimate. From the very beginning, there was a softness in the air, a quiet trust in my body, and a deep connection between me and Robb as we prepared to meet our daughter.
I woke up around 3 a.m. that morning with some tightening and cramping. I was in a bit of denial—it didn’t feel like labor just yet. I got up and made multiple restroom trips, eventually crawling back into bed and instinctively moving into cat-cow positions, moaning and groaning quietly through the waves. When Robb woke up, he took one look at me and said, “You’re in labor.” I told him I wasn’t—that my body was just preparing. But he knew. He got up right away and began setting the tone for birth: lighting candles, putting on the fireplace, playing French café music, and beginning to fill the tub. The house glowed with warmth and intention.
It wasn’t until I went to the restroom and lost my mucus plug—followed by a beautiful, vivid bloody show—that I knew for sure: this was labor. I believe Robb called our midwife team shortly after that, and they arrived around 5:30 or 6 a.m. Our midwife, Lindsey Meehleis, brought with her the grounded, sacred energy we needed. Her presence, along with her team’s, was supportive and unobtrusive—allowing me to stay completely in my own rhythm.
One of the most beautiful aspects of Harper’s birth was how fully I leaned into my partner. I tuned out the world around me and allowed myself to be held—physically, emotionally, and spiritually—by Robb. He was there with me, steady and strong, offering sweet forehead kisses, gently grabbing my face, and helping me feel deeply loved and supported. Those gestures grounded me, centered me, and reminded me that I wasn’t alone. I feel so lucky to have a partner like him—and our children are so lucky to have a father who shows up so fully in those vulnerable, transformative moments.
Contractions had a steady rhythm from the very beginning—when I woke, they were already just one to two minutes apart. This labor felt almost textbook in its pattern. And yet, I was working through some early fear: Would this birth be precipitous like Hunter’s? Would we have time? Robb and I had prepared for that possibility—we were ready to catch the baby ourselves if needed—but in my heart, I was hoping for something different. And with Harper, I got it. This labor unfolded with power and purpose, but also with enough space to be present in each moment.
Getting into the tub was a welcome shift. The warm water and soft light from the fireplace helped me settle deeper into labor. The room felt quiet and safe, and Robb stayed close—supportive and kind. He offered sweet forehead kisses, gently grabbed my face in moments when I needed to come back to center, and held me in a way that made me feel so deeply loved and supported. Those gestures helped me stay grounded and focused, even as the intensity of labor rose.
And then there was Foxy, our beloved dog and first baby. She walked up to the side of the tub and locked eyes with me. It was the same look she gave me when I was birthing Hunter—a deep, knowing gaze that somehow made me feel grounded and seen. That moment with her was so tender. It felt like she understood exactly what was happening, like she was part of it too. She’s been there as our family has grown, and having her witness another birth felt sacred in its own way.
When contractions turned into pushing, I felt an immediate and immense urge. I pushed for at least 30 minutes, grunting her down through each wave, fully aware of her descent. With every surge, I could feel Harper moving deeper into the birth canal. It was intense, brutal, and primal—but also deeply connected. I knew exactly where she was, unlike my first birth. One of the most vivid memories I carry is reaching down, with Robb’s help, and the two of us pulling our baby up together onto my chest. That moment—bringing her into the light as a team—was unforgettable.
After Harper was on my chest, I leaned back into the water and sat down, breathing and integrating. I felt her little body against mine and just melted into the moment. And then, like a burst of sunshine, Hunter came running into the room with the biggest smile on his face. Our eyes met, and we were both in awe—me, holding his baby sister, and him, seeing me in a way he never had before. There’s a photo of that moment, our whole family together—Robb, Hunter, Harper, and me—and it will forever be one of my most cherished images. We were in awe of each other, hearts wide open, completely present in the magic of what had just unfolded.
From the tub, we moved to the couch, where I delivered the placenta in a quiet, supported space. Then we transitioned into our bedroom, where we honored Harper’s arrival with a cord burning ceremony. Two candles, the scent of herbs in the air, the gentle crackle as the flame made its way across the cord. It was slow, intentional, sacred—a beautiful way to close the ceremony of birth and honor the life-giving connection that had sustained her.
Hunter was still close by, beaming with pride. He had brought gifts for his baby sister: a stuffed lion and a bunny. Watching him place those little treasures near her was so moving—it was a moment of sibling love and welcoming that will stay with me forever.
Her birth was not just the arrival of a new baby—it was a homecoming for me, too. A reclamation of my power, my intuition, my voice. It healed something in me. It reminded me that birth can be beautiful, and that we get to choose how we walk through it.
I am endlessly grateful—for my body, for my babies, and for the way birth has taught me to listen to its wisdom. I hope this story inspires even one person to consider natural birth—whether at home, in a birth center, or in a hospital. Do your research. Understand your rights. And know that you are allowed to walk into birth feeling empowered, informed, and fully supported.
