After reading Atomic Habits, I approached my 40th birthday with enthusiasm. Precise steps, building on one another, leading up to my birthday were fueled by the desire to be a person who makes healthy choices. I ended up getting so healthy that…surprise! about a month after my 40th birthday, we discovered that I was pregnant.

We already had two wonderful sons, ages 9 and 7 at the time, and thought we were done. Everyone was potty trained, sleeping through the night, able to ride a bike, reading books. Wait, what?!

We told our sons almost immediately, and I’m so glad that I added their reactions to my notes. Nine year old: “I’m shocked. I might throw up. Well, I’ve been saying I want to be a babysitter.” Seven year old: “How did this happen? Maybe it’s a misunderstanding.”

Both of the boys were born at a local hospital, where I learned that epidurals don’t exactly agree with me. And, having grown more “crunchy” over the years, I found myself considering a homebirth, a thought I had never entertained before. I panic-emailed Janelle Alier (Paris Mountain Midwifery), who we’ve known for years, to set up an appointment to talk things through. Janelle is the kindest and most calming person you can hope for in this case. She consistently provided us with the best care, and I genuinely miss seeing her regularly.

A couple of friends recommended Julie as a doula. Although I was advised to interview several doulas, as soon as Julie entered our home, I knew she was the right one for us. Even our cat, who hides from visitors, was comfortable with her.

Thankfully, I experienced a healthy, although uncomfortable, pregnancy. (Being pregnant at 40 is no joke.) I devoured hundreds of home birth stories in books, on the Mama Natural website, and Julie’s site. A few weeks before my due date, I felt off, extra uncomfortable. Julie kindly came over that night and dozed on our couch until we concluded it was a false alarm. I was a bit embarrassed because, hey, I’d had two other kids. Shouldn’t I know when I’m in labor? But Julie had a personal story for that and was very gracious.

Fast forward a couple of Braxton Hicks-filled weeks. It’s close to 4:00 am the morning after Father’s Day. I woke to my water breaking, which I had never experienced outside of the hospital. When I got up to change, I woke my husband, Mark. Following the general advice to rest while we could, I assured him we could go back to sleep. However, after lying down for a few minutes, I naturally decided that I should really clean the kitchen.

As I wiped down the counter, contractions began, and we started timing them. Mark offered to contact Julie to give her a heads-up that labor had begun. I told him that she could take her time. Then the next contraction hit and I realized that I did not want Julie to take her time, but to come as soon as possible. I headed to the bathroom where the contractions intensified quickly, and by the time Julie arrived at 5:06 am, I was in full-blown labor. She and Mark worked to fill the birthing tub which we had already set up in our bedroom. They managed to fill it several inches before the hot water ran out, and I crawled a few yards from our master bathroom to the tub, where they helped me in at 5:33 am. I was determined to use that tub. (Mark later joked that they should have played “Eye of the Tiger” during that moment.)

Despite preparing affirmation cards, a playlist, an exercise ball, and a bag of comfort tools, I used none of them. Janelle arrived a few minutes later at 5:37, which I barely registered. The labor was so fast and intense that I ended up kneeling against the inside of the pool, gripping the top and screaming. I am usually a quiet and controlled person, so this really caught me off guard, but it ended up being what my body needed to do to get our baby girl out. At one point, I got super hot and Julie somehow knew to grab a fan from her stash and point it at me, which felt amazing. Most of the time, I was in a primal zone, only aware of my body and Mark right there with me.

Janelle and Julie were wonderful. They didn’t ask me annoying questions or break my concentration. They were a calm presence without interfering. I was aware of how much racket I was making, and it occurred to me that the boys might be upset. The plan had been for them to go to my sister-in-law’s house when I went into labor, but everything was happening so fast that we never called her. Mark quickly checked on them and reassured them that I was okay. Leading up to this, I had joked with them about how fun it would be if they woke up to a baby sister one morning. I had also stated that I’m not a screamer. Oops. Well, here I was shocking myself with the decibels issuing from my very being.

Julie asked Mark to play some music, but I wasn’t interested in my prepared playlist, which consisted of cheerful songs intended to encourage me during a long labor. (Now I listen to it when folding laundry. Ha!) He picked some spa-type music, which I’m sure was lovely.

And then, Evie Lynne was here. I had hoped to catch her as she entered the water, but, as I was busy clutching the top of the tub with my eyes scrunched shut and finishing a scream, I missed it. I said something like, “Somebody catch her!” as if no one was aware of her little self peacefully floating out. She was born at 5:47 am, just 10 minutes after Janelle arrived and less than two hours after the first contraction.

The boys got to meet their little sister 26 minutes later. We recognized her sweet profile from her 20-week ultrasound, and I noticed her long feet which, up until recently, had enjoyed my rib cage. Being a homeschooling mom, I especially appreciated that we all got to watch Janelle measure and weigh Evie and listen to her heart on the foot of my bed. Throughout it all, I felt supported and thoughtfully cared for.

Julie gave me a prism to hang in my window on one of her visits after Evie was born. In the morning, the soft colors shine onto the very spot where Evie was born, filling me with wonder and gratitude. And my forties now have another reason to be a person who makes healthy choices.

[Doula Note: as a doula/childbirth educator who also experienced a “rehearsal” during my 2nd pregnancy, I can vouch that we can’t always know when contractions will lead to a baby or lead to nowheretown. I’ve slept on many a couch in this job!]