Homebirth ~ A Mother's Day Reflection

Eve gave birth in the wilderness. Maybe in a cave. Perhaps in a tent of animal skin. Or some simple wooden structure like the first night of Minecraft survival mode. All we know is that it was somewhere east of Eden in a fallen world.

Today, it costs like $15k+ to have a baby in a hospital. If you’re a taxpayer, that is. If you’re a freeloader, or an alien, it’s pretty much free. Yea, we’re still fallen alright.

But you can just have a baby at home. Did you know that? It’s like the free geese in the park. They don’t want you to know. My dad was the first in my ancestry to even be born in a hospital. Well, more like a little country clinic in the 40s.

I was born in a hospital. I don’t remember it. People that say they do are probably afflicted.

I never thought about home birth until I had a professor in college who was a phd candidate studying it. Childless uber liberal white woman in her 30s who had aged poorly. Wiry girl with glasses and frizzy hair. The class was basically one semester long struggle session, and I was the only straight white guy in a roster of about eight students. DEI-Fun.

It was called “civic engagement” or something basic like that. She didn’t talk very much about midwifery, but I remember thinking it was odd that she was so liberal and so invested in it, since I had the instinctive understanding that it was a matter of personal freedom. But I guess she was cut from that old left cloth—the crunchy, anti Monsanto lefties that either became so disaffected that they disengaged from politics altogether (until RFK Jr. rebooted some of them to vote Trump), or they continued to cling to the ever spiraling psychopathy of progressivism—ONLY ORGANIC HRT FOR MY KIDS PLEASE AND THANK YOU!

In later years, I had some personal experiences that furthered an instinctual distrust of the medical establishment. Near death of someone close to me at the time as a result of obvious medical malpractice. And I was a degree removed from a very traumatic birth story that made me quite averse to the prospect of my eventual wife giving birth in a hospital.

So I started reading more about home birth—and kudos where kudos are due to my to my struggle sesh prof for that. You don’t have to read much to realize the story from your aunt about the one crazy woman who died from a homebirth is hysteria. Homebirth is the one topic where I wholeheartedly endorse #listening to women.

But only women with more than a couple of brain cells to rub together. Because there are plenty that are anti-homebirth. They’re probably the most vocal about it, too. My wife probably heard a half dozen plus variants of the “i knew a someone whose cousin DIED trying to give birth at home.” Not terribly encouraging, Sharon.

Now, if you’re a woman, soon to be mother, or mother reading this, welcome! If you have an interest in homebirth, you likely have better resources than a random anon on Substack, but if somehow you’ve just never thought about it (when we first started dating, my wife told me it had never crossed her mind until I brought it up to her) the podcast Down to Birth is a great resource. But this is a #dadpost, so your mileage will likely vary with this piece depending on the number and degree of quality relationships you have with men.

You’ll get a quick barometer of this according to how the next sentence feels for you:

Before I held my wife as she gave birth to our firstborn in our wedding bed, the only birth I’d witnessed was a sow’s—i.e., a mama pig—in a little stable. The ol’ girl laid on her side in a bed of hay and breathed with forceful rhythm of life manifest. She had three little piglets one after another. The umbilical cords had broken during the birth process per usual and the fresh little piggies popped out squealing and rutting for mother’s milk. Practically zero human involvement or aid needed.

Now, human females are different, yes.

But doesn’t feminism tell us that they are the most capable? “Anything you can do, I can do better; I can do anything better than you!” the girlboss tells young Chud as she does a reflexive tiktok dance.

I am no feminist. Not an iota.

But childbirth? Motherhood?

Why yes darling, you can in fact do those things better than me!

And praise God for that!

When my wife and I tell people that homebirth was originally my idea there’s always this look. . . You can imagine. You may even be giving it right now:

“What’d you like make her do it you freak?”

Lol as if I could “make” my darling wife do anything, much less give birth in our bedroom.

No, she’s a smart girl. She can even read! And think! And once she began researching the topic for herself, she quickly realized that birthing our child in the comfort of our own home was exactly what she wanted.

And thank God it was such an incredible experience that she did it again for our second child.

Don’t misunderstand me. I take no credit. All I did was hold the sweet girl’s hand (read: squeeze hard enough back that she didn’t break mine) and whisper in her ear that she could do it and was made for this. And she did—beautifully—because God did make her for this.

But society has made birth into a product. An inconvenience. A frantic, scary, undesirable episode with supposed unbearable pain punctuated with screaming and cursing (though there will be some of that lol). Most young women these days don’t even know what birth even is aside from unrealistic depictions in movies and TV shows. If you don’t believe me, go ask a handful of 20 year old girls how long they think the average labor time is for a first-time mom. Lol, the girls at our church thought my wife’s 6 hour labor was long.

Sure, emergencies can happen. Mothers can be “high-risk.” But that’s not the norm.

And that’s what a skilled midwife is for. We had an excellence midwife that I trust 100x more than any OBGYN. We couldn’t imagine having a birth with any health care provider other than her. We’re blessed to have her in our lives.

I have never been prouder of anyone than seeing my wife birth our first child (well, until our second, but that’s another story). That moment, oh dear Lord, that incredible moment the baby is finally out, and God’s breath gives them the cry of life itself—there is nothing like it.

This piece dedicated to mrs. ringleader, the only woman in the world that’s ever looked at her husband a mere hour after giving birth wherein the boy’s big ol head was stuck on her pubic bone for an hour+ and said “yea, I would do that again.”

SELF SHILL SEGUE

Other than liking, restacking, subscribing, and all the usual algorithm free treats, there are a few ways you can support my work further if you’re pickin up what I’m puttin down and want to see, listen, and read more of it:

• If you want more of my work online, consider becoming a paid subscriber for $25 annually. You’ll receive my full archive of posts, access to the dog and pony show Writers’ Workshop chat, and a signed copy of my book The Aping American.

• If you’d rather just have the book, you can purchase the physical copy for $17.76 HERE. If you have already been so kind as to purchase a copy, please consider leaving a quick review. Actually, just leave a review regardless. You don’t have to have purchased the book.

• You can purchase a digital pdf version through Tortuga Media HERE for $6.99.

• Speaking of Tortuga Media, if you are looking for a fraternity of men who are all dedicated to building generation wealth in a fast degenerating world, feel free to send me a DM to discuss whether you would be a good fit.

• If you’re a CERTIFIED NICHEAD, you can use my code “alp-t9pmplr3zsg” for 10% off your ALP nicotine pouch purchase HERE.

• You can also support the show by using code “ringleader” to buy some real banned books for 5% off your purchases from Antelope Hill Publishing at their site HERE.

Thank you for visiting dog and pony show.