The Birth That Changed Everything

A Mother's Day story about healing and reclamation through birth.

Four years ago, on Mother’s Day, my husband took this photo of me at 41 weeks pregnant.

I spent the day with him, my mother and my toddler son — flipping through ancestral documents, old censuses, maps of family land, and oral histories about those who came before us. We ate nourishing food and watched the documentary, In Our Mother’s Garden. I felt relaxed. At ease. Whole.

I had done the work. I had unpacked the trauma of my first birth, and begun training as a doula. I had mended relationships: with family, with authority, with myself. I was mentally, physically and spiritually ready to welcome my second son — and to experience the redemptive home birth I had long envisioned.

That evening, as I put my 22-month-old down to sleep, I felt a tightening in my belly that wasn’t just Braxton Hicks. I looked at my mom and said, “Uhhh… this might be it.”

I labored through the night. Seven hours later — before the sun had risen — my sweet baby boy was born. But it wasn’t just him.

A new version of me was born, too.

A version who’d released the illusion of control.

Who had surrendered fully.

Who had communed with my Maker.

Who came out more whole on the other side.

That version of me held a vision for my family. One rooted in a single, powerful intention:

To reclaim our family’s story.

And in doing so, I felt a shift — a ripple of healing moving backward through my lineage, and forward through my children.

I birthed in the water, surrounded by my husband, my mother, my doula and my midwife.

Then I climbed into my own bed, just steps away, and after ample time on my chest, I watched as my baby was cared for by loving hands right beside me.

No beeping machines.

No poking or prodding.

No fluorescent lights.

No interruptions every 30 minutes.

No coercion.

Just… peace.

Two years later, our sons were present as I labored, and in the next room when I brought another baby boy earthside — in the very same pool, in the very same room of our home.

This is what freedom looks like for my family, as we define it.

And I’m deeply grateful I had the village to support me in experiencing it. I knew, immediately, that I wanted to help other families experience this feeling. Not my version or vision, but theirs. Not perfection, but redemption.

So I’ll ask you this:

What does freedom look like for you — in birth, postpartum, and beyond?

What does it look like to prepare for and carry your baby in peace?

To be seen, supported and surrounded?

I created Borne to help families define their version of freedom — and to build the village to walk them toward it.

If this resonates, I’d love for you to join us.

Not ready yet? That’s okay too.

If it’s not for you right now, I invite you to pass it along — to a mother-to-be, a doula, an auntie, a partner — anyone ready to help reclaim the story of birth.

For ourselves.

For each other.

For generations to come.

I hope you had a Happy Mother’s Day.

And for those of you who are coping with loss, or challenging emotions on this day — we feel you, we're here for you, and we're sending so much love. Please let us know how we can support your process.