The end of January 2019 saw me in WI, visiting family and helping with a vendor event that my mom had signed up for. It was the first big event that we had done, so it was all hands on deck. We spent a few days leading up to it at the house, setting up mock-booths to test our layout, inventorying product, and making sure we knew what was in each box and crate so we could get set up in time and feel somewhat organized.
On the morning of the first day, we made a LOT of coffee, loaded up the truck, and took off at the crack of dawn. Ten minutes down the road, as we were about to crest the big hill going into town, the truck sputtered the shut off altogether, and we coasted to a stop as close to the shoulder as we could get. We tried restarting, to no avail. Thankfully we were close enough to the top to get cell signal, so we called my dad, and after a few more failed attempted to restart, he had called the tow truck and also decided to come out and see if he could do anything to help. Bless the Lord that I had left my keys at home; I told him to grab my keys and bring my SUV instead of my mom’s 4-door sedan, just in case we needed to continue on without the truck. We had the bed of the truck FULL of stuff for the event, and three people in the cab. We were going to need every inch of space if that’s what it came down to.
Once dad got on scene, he took a look at a few things, and determined that whatever had happened, it wasn’t going to change sitting on the side of the road at nearly -20°. We turned my SUV around so it was butt-to-butt with dad’s truck and started unloading, sorting and reloading as fast possible – we were late and freezing, and the sun was still quite a ways below the treetops! Everything came out – the full-size spare tire that my sweet husband bought and stashed in my car, due to the regular long-distance road trips; the maps, the extra clothes, everything. Fifteen minutes later, we had everything loaded in my SUV except for the chairs and one cooler, and we bid goodbye to dad, who was settling in for a long, cold wait for the truck.
Our booth at WellExpo
After that start, the rest of the weekend was a breeze. We had a great show, made new friends, and didn’t freeze to death! The only thing missing was my monthly visitor… When that visitor again didn’t make an appearance a month later, I got suspicious. (I’ll mention here that my mom was suspicious before I even left to go home that weekend. I chocked it up to wishful thinking, naturally.)
By the time I confirmed that my first born was on his way, I was already 8wks pregnant. Slightly overwhelmed. A little surprised. And entirely in denial. I had had zero symptoms, other than being a little hungrier than normal, and getting up once or twice extra in the night to use the bathroom. And, as I discovered later, the fact that our dog, Maverick, was so clingy wasn’t just because we had been traveling and he was happy that all three of us were together again. But when you’re 8wks pregnant, those tests don’t really lie.
The next step, of course, is finding a care provider. I knew I didn’t want to have my baby in a hospital. I’m not an anxious person in general, but just stepping foot on hospital ground causes clammy palms, increased heart rate and blood pressure, and a stressed, short and snappy attitude. I avoid them whenever possible. My hope was to find a birthing center that would offer a much more relaxed atmosphere to give birth, but access to help and medical assistance if necessary; turns out the nearest one is almost 2hrs away from us, and it didn’t sound like fun making that drive while in labor!
One day, while looking for options, I decided to go ahead and look for midwives, and see if I could find one that worked with any local hospitals, instead of an OBGYN. I wanted an alternative perspective for my pregnant and delivery, not just the new normal of the medical perspective. That’s when I found www.dreamingtreewomenscare.com and gave her a call.
I spent an hour or so on the phone with Darcie that day, asking her questions and hoping that she was going to tell me something that would talk me out of this insane notion that was creeping into my head…..there was no way I could have this baby at home, right? But the more we talked, I was running out of questions and excuses. That night, I talked to John – again, hoping that he would talk me out of this nutty idea. But, like the sweet, supportive man that he is, he did no such thing. He told me that he would support me in whatever decision I made, and that if I wanted to have our baby at home, he had questions, but no arguments or issues with the idea. I did a lot of research in the next few days. I did online research on birth types and locations, I looked online and in my books at home for answers on what oils I could and shouldn’t use (DiGize became my best friend, let me tell you), and what I needed on a baby registry.
We scheduled our first appointment with Darcie when I was around 10-12wks pregnant, and we were so thrilled. We sat on a couch in her office and chatted as we all got to know each other, and took care of the routine tests. At the end of the appointment, she pulled out her Doppler device and we got to hear the baby’s heartbeat for the first time. I told John later I was more surprised that we DID find a heartbeat – I had nearly convinced myself that I was making the whole thing up! Turns out – not so much. Our sweet boy’s heart was pumping loud and strong, even if he was being a little ornery and trying to get away.
Those first few months, even after hearing his heartbeat, I was pretty deep in denial. I have always wanted children, and John and I had discussed it in depth, but like we said before we got married, there are some things you can’t exactly ever be ready for. And I would say that kids are high on that list as well. But I’m also a firm believer in the fact that the Lord doesn’t bring us to something until He’s ready to bring us through it. And thank God that’s true.
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