How I Labored in Love, Laughter, and a Thunderstorm

After two weeks of feeling on edge, like I couldn’t fully settle, I finally reached the point where I could tell my body, “Okay. I’m ready now.” Ready to meet my daughter. Ready to release control. But of course, there was still a long to-do list quietly haunting me in the back of my head.

Even though I told myself I had “no expectations” around her arrival, I gently whispered to my belly: “August 2nd through the 5th would be a great time to make your appearance.” Our older kids were starting school that week and if she waited too long, things would get... complicated.

At my 38-week midwife appointment in Charlotte, I joked, “I won’t be at next week’s appointment—I’ll be seeing you this weekend instead.” I just knew she’d come soon. After all, our kids have a pattern—they arrive in the middle of storms. And that weekend, the forecast was full of thunder.

But when I woke up on August 5th, still very much pregnant, I sighed in frustration for the first time during my entire pregnancy. I gently placed my hand on my belly before I even opened my eyes and thought, “Ugh… still pregnant.”

We had Bentley’s back-to-school day that morning, and he was set to start school the next day. I told my midwife again at that appointment, “Next time I see you, it’ll be at my house.”

That afternoon, I came across a hypnobirthing eggplant parmesan recipe (you know the one) and sent it to Ian. He made the most beautiful dish—full of flavor, love, and low-key desperation. I ate a piece before bed, with no real hope that it would work.

August 6th: 39 Weeks, 6 Days

Ian and I had made a deal—if I was up with insomnia, I’d take Bentley to school. If I was asleep, he would. At 5:45 AM, I woke up to a cramp. One that made me pause.

It felt… different.

A few minutes later, another one hit. I heard Ian’s alarm go off. Figured since I was up, I’d just get Bentley ready. While he ate breakfast, I was in the kitchen gripping the counter, breathing through a contraction, quietly texting my birth team: “Something’s happening. Stay close to your phone.”

By 6:45 AM, I told Ian he had to take Bentley. I was cramping. By 7:15, the kids were out the door, and I was home alone—laboring fast. My contractions ramped up so quickly, I remember hugging my birth ball and thinking, “Wait… is this happening… fast?!”

I called my doula. Texted my photographer. Texted my midwife. I could feel my legs shaking.

That was my sign.

The Birth Pool, the Storm, and the Push

Ian walked back in at 8:00 AM to find me in the shower. He heard me grunt through a contraction and immediately started filling the birth pool. My midwife texted to ask if she should come. I wasn’t sure—but thankfully, she read between the lines and headed out.

By 8:20 AM, our photographer arrived.

I crawled into the birth tub. Ian followed, offering counter pressure that I desperately needed. I had two contractions.

The front door opened.

My midwife dropped her bag, turned to go grab the rest of her supplies—and that’s when I shouted:

“I’m pushing!”

“I know!” she called back.

In that next moment, my water broke. One push—her head. One more—her shoulders.

Elliana was born at 8:37 AM, just as the torrential rain flooded the roads of Charlotte. My doula walked in a few minutes later. The assistant midwife, who had actually left first, arrived shortly after.

Bentley had been born in an ice storm. Railynn during a thunderstorm. And now Elliana—in a flood. Apparently, our children have a flair for dramatic entrances.

The Most Beautiful Moment of All

At 9:15, our midwife asked if we wanted to cut the cord. I wanted our kids there. Ian zipped off to pick up Bentley from his first day of school—literally just 2 hours after drop-off. When asked by his teacher why he had to leave early, Bentley replied, “I think my sister was just born.”

He came home, full of curiosity and wide-eyed joy.

Railynn told me every day for a week how proud she was of me.

Bentley kept saying, “You just had a baby? You don’t look like it. You’re beautiful.”

Those words—spoken by the two kids who made me a mother—will forever be imprinted on my heart.

Railynn held Elliana first. Bentley cut the cord. And for a few golden minutes, time stood still. I felt seen. I felt held. I felt powerful.

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If you're an expecting mama in Charlotte looking for a doula, a night nurse, or postpartum support, I can tell you this:

You are worthy of being cared for. Your birth story matters. And the right team can help you write it beautifully.

🍼 Mama Bear & Newborn Care is here when you’re ready.