Some thoughts on strength: The birth of Miles

Pregnancy seems to be the body’s way of proving us wrong. Like a force God conjured to back us into a corner with our deepest questions, only to unmask them one by one, usually in our favor. Wow, we whisper to ourselves as the light–that happy ending we know to look for but hardly know how to expect–drips in. That wasn’t as bad as I thought. My story begins with a question about my strength and ends with an answer about it. But not the one I expected.

When we got pregnant with Miles last June, I got sick. In my body, but mostly in my heart. Every physical symptom–the endless nausea, dizziness, exhaustion–became a tributary feeding into the deep, dark lake of an ancient fear, one I’d been bobbing in most of my life. The fear came toward me with a clear assignment: to accuse me that me my body is not strong, and certainly not strong enough to have a baby. I carried that fear with me just as physically as I carried my own son. It competed for my emotions and my energy and my attention, and it almost–almost–won.



I chose the Minnesota Birth Center because of my experience with the midwives with my first son. That time, like most first-time millennial moms, I “planned” on giving birth naturally. I was desperate for it, actually. For me, an unmedicated birth was the ultimate finish line; a blue ribbon for breezing through pregnancy, a part of your birth story you make sure to emphasize so other moms know how much you care about your baby. But by God’s grace it didn’t happen that way: I transferred to the hospital as my body erupted into transition and was perfectly happy with my last-ditch decision to get an epidural. That time I learned about what it means to be enough, and how mothering was less about perfection and more about progress.

With Miles, I didn’t have a game plan. Part of me felt more comfortable in the hospital; my pregnancy had been such a gauntlet physically that I couldn’t imagine a smooth birth, or at least a birth any “better” than my first. So I wasn’t surprised when my blood pressure shot up at 38.5 weeks. The midwives and I began to talk about induction, which by that point felt like just another bump in the road. A classic example of my body failing me, again. Another reason not to trust it. I was weak, just like I thought.

We checked into the hospital on a Friday afternoon after arranging childcare for our three-year-old. Though I knew things would likely progress slowly, I didn’t imagine I’d have to wait more than three days to meet my boy, and I definitely couldn’t dream up a scenario in which I wouldn’t use pain medication during an induced birth. But our pregnant bodies have ways of surprising us.

The process started with a gentle, reassuring midwife reminding me I had options. My blood pressure hadn’t been consistently high, so we could keep an eye on it if I wanted to have Miles at the birth center spontaneously. But by that time, I’d already geared up. My older son was content at his friend’s house for the weekend, we were checked in, and I was emotionally and mentally ready to get things going. So we opted to stay, whatever that looked like.

Since I was only 1cm dilated and hardly effaced, we started with Cervidil overnight. I woke up the next morning to some contractions I had to breathe through, but as I eyed them on the monitor, I had a sense they wouldn’t last. I was right. Even after nearly eight hours on Pitocin later that day, it felt like nothing was happening in my body–I only progressed to three cm after 24 hours in the hospital. I began to scrounge up game plans to escape my weakness. Breaking my water seemed like the best option.

My fears collided with reality at an unwelcome climax, when a very wise midwife told me Miles’ head had moved up, and breaking my waters like we planned could risk a cord prolapse. At that point, I had a choice: probably the most important choice of my pregnancy, the one that empowered me to trust the body I’d been so convinced was bent on failing me. I could stay in the hospital and wait for an indefinite amount of time for labor to happen, or I could go home to rest in my own bed for a few days and try again later. We opted to go home so we could spend time with our older son for a few days, hoping labor would kick in naturally before our second induction appointment on Monday. (It didn’t.)

I didn’t see it, but underneath the lack of visible progress in my body, my heart was ripening, opening up to lessons that would shape me as a woman and a mother. Those two sunny, late-winter days were gifts: a quiet chance to tell my body I trust it, an opportunity to redefine progress, to discover that momentum isn’t always visible. It turns out that resting my mind and body from the never-ending queue of questions propelled me forward in deep and powerful ways.


On Monday we checked in at noon, and met our son before midnight. I thought I’d lose all the progress we made over the weekend, but it turns out our bodies and our lives don’t work that way. The work we do is still work we’ve done, even if (and maybe especially if) we stop to breathe.

The next few hours brought with them a rapid fire of more questions, or in hindsight, opportunities to trust. When my water broke, I told the midwife it was probably just pee. When my contractions got more regular, I hesitated to call my doula, since she’d already been with me once, and I didn’t want to send her home again. When I got in the tub, unable to speak during (or really between) contractions, I began to emotionally resign from what I perceived as pain without boundaries, weakness on full display. That’s when I started to entertain an epidural. I was sure my body was fooling me, and that I’d only progressed to 5 or 6 centimeters.

I got out of the tub and into full-blown epidural-demanding mode. The midwife recommended we check my cervix first, which was a great idea, but I just yelled at her (and everyone else). Turns out I was 8 cm, and though those last 2 cm would only last a few minutes, I didn’t think I was strong enough. Even if just for pushing, I wanted to be numb to what I felt.

In those make-it-or-break-it moments it’s easy to forget all we’ve overcome, to default to old ways of thinking. And I did. I looked at all my obstacles like failures instead of fertile soil for growth, and because I’d spent so much time believing my body wasn’t strong, that I wasn’t strong, I literally left no space for it to prove me wrong. Until those last 2 centimeters, when I didn’t have much of a choice.

20 minutes and about 20,000 cries for pain medicine later, the light I wanted but didn’t know how to expect dripped in. I was holding my (surprisingly gigantic) baby on the other side of an intense and unmedicated birth. Somehow, I and my body had defied my expectations, together forging a new reality, one where I’m stronger than I ever thought I was.

It’s funny to think that through all the pain and anxiety and sleepless nights it was him–this peaceful, perfect baby boy all along. And oddly enough, it was me all along, too.

~ Ashley A.

We love birth stories! If you would like to share your story on the blog, please email

MBC Seeks Nurse to join Birth Assistant Team

We’re hiring!

Minnesota Birth Center (MBC) is seeking a skilled and passionate nurse who wants to practice alongside midwives in a Birth Center setting. A highly qualified candidate would have L&D or related experience and proven commitment to out-of-hospital midwifery care, although these qualifications are not required. MBC is looking for  LPN or RN nurses who are aligned with MBC’s philosophy of care, are self-directed in gaining the knowledge and skills required to do the job, excel in non-traditional situations, and are skilled communicators and team members.

Duties of the Role:
  • The nurse will be scheduled six units per two-week pay period. One unit is equal to one clinic shift or one 24-hour call shift. The nurse will work a combination of clinic and 24-hour call shifts. (There may be an opportunity for a smaller position at 3-4 units per pay period; please inquire if interested.)
  • During clinic shifts, the nurse will assist midwives as needed to facilitate smooth and timely antepartum, postpartum, and well-woman care; provide postpartum nursing care and assessment of the mom-baby dyad and breastfeeding assistance at the 24-48 hour home visit, review lab results from previous clinic day and follow-up as needed; answer, document, and follow up on patient calls to the nurse line; and assist with lab draws, NSTs, medication administration, and other clinical tasks as needed.
  • During on-call shifts, the nurse must be accessible by cell phone and able to arrive to either birth center location within 30 minutes of being called in. During call shifts when needed, the nurse will provide labor, birth, and postpartum nursing care as the midwife’s second set of hands at a birth; assist as cofacilitator at Circle Care, our postpartum group care sessions for early postpartum moms and their babies; teach families how to care for mom and baby at home after discharge at the Early Home Care class; perform 24-48 hour home visits outside of clinic hours; and work on various administrative tasks. 
Please apply by sending a resume and cover letter to by June 5, 2017.

Nesting at MBC

We all know that expectant parents nest, but we have a different sort of nesting going on at MBC -Minneapolis…

Last week a staff member discovered a bird’s nest with four small eggs, nestled in our hydrangea wreath!

Thus far, the birds don’t appear to be bothered by all the comings and goings at the birth center. Perhaps they know they will be well-cared for by our midwife team.

Thank you for being gentle with our door and with our birds!