Observant readers of this blog may be aware that I am love homebirth.
All three of my babies arrived naturally, and in water; the second two were born at home. And yes, that was on purpose.
Although Jeff and I have been pleased with each of our birth experiences (and I do mean "our," as he works nearly as hard as I do during labor and delivery), there is something about birthing at home that is inherently special. Maybe it's because, able to be in my most familiar and comfortable environment, it's naturally easier to relax - and in labor, relaxation is the name of the game. Maybe it's the convenience of not having to make that cold, dark drive to another location, all the while dealing with contractions. Or, hitting transition during rush hour on a major highway. Just, you know, theoretically speaking.
Or maybe it's because there is something beautiful about bringing a baby into the world in his own home. Having the first lights he sees outside the womb be the softly glowing lights - perhaps even a fireplace - of home. Maybe it's because there's something precious about pajama-clad boys with tousled hair waking up in the wee smas, to meet their new baby brother.
Very probably, all of the above.
We're planning for our new little one to make entry into the world in the same way. I'm dreaming of the new house (no doubt with many boxes still filled) being christened through one of my favorite family traditions.
There are no guarantees, I know that. Unexpected things can happen. Plans can change. Yet for now, I'm dreaming of something beautiful.
Birth. My family, growing. At home.