The Birth of Otto
[Due Date: June 23, 2025] 

Written by Otto’s mom, Sarah

Friday, June 28th

My contractions were coming in heavier and quicker since dinner. It was June 28, 2024 around 3am, and I had been in early labor for five days. Travis, my husband, and Jenn, my best friend/photographer, were asleep upstairs. The night was calm as I moved around the space, contemplating my next move, and trying my best not to wake them unnecessarily. Because this was my second pregnancy, I had come to know that babies do not like to leave my body. Four years earlier, after three days of early labor, my daughter was given an eviction notice by my OB at the end of her 42nd week inside of me. I had desperately wanted my body and her to work things out on their own. Instead, I labored in the hospital, intervention after intervention, and felt no one was truly listening to me. 2020 had already been an exercise in loss of control, knowledge, and power; and this experience struck me down even more. I had decided early on that I would do everything I could to make this delivery different. 

Our bags were already by the front door, and it was time to go. The heat of the day had passed, and I was thankful for the cool night air. Travis, Jenn, and I drove through winds and curves of wooded back roads. We had done this drive two nights before after a false alarm, and I prayed into the darkness of the night that this was finally, truly it.  The headlights shone in more animals' eyes than I could count, and in between contractions I wondered if any of them were going through what I was at the same time. Mary, our doula, met us at the door of the Birthing Center. Her presence was a welcome sight, as her energy could calm the wildest of creatures, and I was edging closer and closer to feral. 

Walking, sitting, standing, rocking, lying, floating, swaying, bouncing. My back was on fire, and nothing made it better. My goal was to give birth without medication or intervention. If things went south, I was prepared to let my wishes fall by the wayside, but I desperately wanted to regain confidence that my body could do this. With every contraction my body reeled and I could not stand on my own. At any given moment, hands stretched out to hold me up. I took the deepest of breaths, closed my eyes, and focused.  My baby was trying to meet me, but he just could not figure out his route yet. I was slowing down, but everyone around kept me going. As it turns out, labor is not called labor arbitrarily.  

After what felt like a lifetime, at around 5:30 pm, Skylar asked how I was feeling. She was my most treasured midwife, and with every interaction she followed my lead. To this day I think Otto waited as long as he did so that she would be on-call for this appearance into the world. With some encouragement, she and Mary then helped me to the birthing stool.  My body and spirit were beyond tired at this point. Travis wrapped himself around me, giving me strength to get through this final step. He would help me meet our son, but the bulk of the work was on my shoulders. I had never felt so powerful and yet so weak at the same time. 

Through the muffled noises of my own breathing I heard, "touch his head". At 6:04 pm, I lifted Otto out from under me and into my arms, but I could not hold him on my own. My body felt like it was melting through the crevices of Travis' own behind me. We were led to bed, where he learned the outside of my body, and I slowly began to recover. I felt so cold and weak, while he was warm and strikingly strong. The 10 month unseen draw of energy and life from me to him was on full display.  

A few hours later, Skylar came back into my room.  Her spirit is warm and envelopes you into an embrace whether you're prepared for it or not.  She gave me a high five and said, "What a fun birth!".  I laughed in exhaustion.  A few days later, her words still rang in my ear.  What privilege it was to bring my son into the world not only safely, but in an encouraging space. How amazing it was to be surrounded by people who trusted my voice, body, and mind.  Fun may not be a word I would use to describe it, but I am eternally grateful for the experience and the humans that supported it.