God’s love for us is so infinite and unconditional that He gave up his power and might, and came to us as a vulnerable Child. This is how He wants us to love, too: with trust, surrender, and with open hearts and no one has ever loved as He loves better than His Own Mother. Like the Blessed Mother, we are invited to give our “fiat”, our yes to His will for our lives. How difficult this is! How easy it is to forget that we are made for this. I pray for the grace to abandon myself to God’s will with my own continued fiat. I am full of gratitude for the very unexpected pregnancy and joyful birth of my daughter, Loretta Rose, my daughter, who reminds me of the abundance that comes from giving our own fiat, by saying YES like our Blessed Mother did.
The Pregnancy
I was about 6-7 months postpartum with my son Lucian (you can read his birth story here) when I became pregnant again. My initial postpartum with Lucian began with a euphoric feeling. Being parishioners at Our Lady of Victory of Basilica, my husband and I entered into parenthood with all the glory and praise to God for the intercession of Our Lady of Victory and Venerable Nelson Baker for our son's miraculous healing of his cleft palate in utero. Soon, though, we found ourselves “in the thick of it”. My son had undergone a surgery for cleft lip at the end of October that year, and our first home was under renovation, and it seemed there was no end in sight. We were living out of suitcases at various family members’ homes. I was struggling with breastfeeding, worried about my decision to resign from my marketing job of eight years, and very sleep deprived. My outer circumstances resulted in postpartum anxiety, and our marriage became strained. During that season, my husband would jokingly (and perhaps sometimes un-jokingly) say, “we are ‘one and done’ with kids!” How wrong he was!
On the feast of the Epiphany in 2023, I attended a party hosted by my doula, Mary. It was a lovely evening with much to celebrate, but by the end of the night, I felt nauseous. I was vomiting most of the night, wondering if my anxiety was causing me to become ill. One week and about twenty pregnancy tests later told me otherwise.
At that time, we were living in my cousin's home. I remember walking out of my cousin’s bathroom in tears and setting a positive test on the table infront of my husband. His eyes grew large and he said, “…yay?” And we both held each other in silence.
I let Mary know immediately that I was pregnant. She congratulated me, and I felt numb. I didn’t feel ready. I felt terrified, resistant, and out of control.
I called my OB, and they had me come in for an ultrasound and I’ll never forget the sinking feeling I had when the technician went silent and left the room. The nurse eventually came in to inform me that there was “no baby”. She then told me to expect to miscarry, and that I could schedule a D&C. I felt overwhelmed and disoriented, and asked to be given a week or two and to then receive one more ultrasound, which she agreed to do.
The days leading up to the ultrasound were excruciating.
At the following ultrasound appointment, there WAS a baby, and there was a beautiful little heartbeat. Thank God we didn't take their advice for the D&C. They gave us a “due date” of October 12th (our wedding anniversary).
“Well, to be ‘safe’, let’s have you come in weekly for ultrasounds,” the PA told me. I respectfully declined, and her response was, “Well if there’s something wrong with the baby, you won’t be able to get an abortion, then, but I guess ‘people like you’ wouldn’t do that anyway.”
“I’d keep my baby no matter what,” I replied.
And that was when I left the practice, and began to discern home birth.
Although I had an overall beautiful first natural birth in the hospital with my son, I had not considered the prospect or potential of home birth. I just didn’t feel capable, and believed that there was more “control” in a hospital setting. Despite my growth in the practice of surrender with my first birth, I was hesitant to surrender more than I thought I already had. And my husband was scared, too. So we decided to discern and to pray. In my meditative prayer, a vision of Our Lady of Loretto kept coming to the forefront of my mind: the Blessed Virgin Mary’s resounding “YES” to the Archangel Gabriel in her home amazed me and I was astounded by her surrender: “Let it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38).
Despite our hesitancy and fear, we eventually agreed to say yes to birth at home. We found a lovely midwife named Natalia in our area with a gentle and kind demeanor, and the weeks of pregnancy passed by without intervention. Natalia took the time and energy to get to know me on an intimate level and along with her nurse LuAnn, my chiropractor Michelle, my nutritionist Erin, and our doula Mary, this empowering group of women provided plenteous wisdom and information in order for me to take responsible action for this pregnancy and birth. I had not experienced pregnancy without fear being instilled in me in the past, so the greatest challenge I undertook was to rebuke the fear in Jesus’ name, and to continue to surrender and trust that HE was leading me.
One decision my husband and I agreed to make was to find out the baby’s gender. A few days before Easter Sunday 2023, I was at Mass and a woman turned around before the Consecration and handed me a light pink rosary and whispered, “The Holy Spirit wants me to give this to you…this is for you, you should pray this for your baby… I wonder if it’ll be a girl?” We found out on Easter Sunday that our baby was indeed a little girl. And I prayed with that light pink rosary all through the remainder of my pregnancy.
I spent most of the pregnancy meditating on the fiat of Our Lady of Loretto and singing at Our Lady of Victory Basilica, looking at the Latin inscriptions around the dome and praying to find the right name for our baby girl: Stella Matutina, Regina Angelorum, Rosa Mystica…
During the pregnancy, my husband also made the decision to attend daily Mass as a family. Between receiving the Eucharist and praying the Rosary, I began to heal from anxiety and to surrender in profound ways that could only come from Him, and our family was given many graces as the pregnancy drew to a close.
The Labor
The prodromal labor began in September. My husband was working a side job at a local spot in our village, and his poor boss had to deal with him leaving more than a handful of times because we were convinced I was in labor! Because of the constant prodromal labor, by the first of October, the anticipation of welcoming a new life into the world had transformed into something more melancholic.
Advice I received from well-meaning loved ones alongside their constant texts asking for updates were “Don’t worry so much!” “Trust the process!” “She will be here soon!” I felt like my feelings were disregarded and misunderstood. Trust? HA. Once again, reminiscent of the beginning of this pregnancy, the anxiety and fear over what was to come left me feeling isolated and out of control.
On the evening of October 6th, 2023, I entered into my own Garden of Gesthesamene. For me, this “garden” was in my bathroom with the lights off at nine at night. Sweating, shaking, tears flowing, I asked God to take this chalice from me. I allowed for the intense emotions to roll over me like wild waves crashing into me until I was face down on the tile floor. When suddenly, a peace washed over me.
“Your will, not my own” was what entered into my heart. “Let it be done to me…”
It was suddenly 3 a.m. on the morning of October 7, the feast of Our Lady of Victory. I woke with a tightness and a familiar sensation that felt like a true contraction. I remember stumbling into our kitchen and making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on sourdough bread and just totally basking in the deliciousness of it.
I was experiencing that tightness every twenty minutes or so. But I convinced myself I wasn’t in labor. Within a few hours, I lost my mucus plug and had some bloody show. I texted Mary who recommended I stay home and rest, but I was adamant that I was NOT in labor, that I was probably just being my dramatic self, and that I planned to sing at the Basilica that evening in honor of my favorite feast day.
One of the most special moments that day was that we went to morning Mass, as per our usual routine. Receiving the Eucharist was the most special gift before labor really picked up momentum. Mary even met us there and witnessing her reverence gave me even more inspiration for what was to come. The rest of the day was peaceful and grace-filled. I played with my son and bounced on my birthing ball while he pointed to my stomach saying, “BABY”. I read him books, napped, and we blew up the birth pool. I prepared charcuterie and coffee and other snacks for my birth team JUST in case… but of course, I was “not in labor”. I ate more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. For some reason, peanut butter and jelly was all I wanted!
By the late afternoon, the contractions picked up intensity. We took a walk around our block and I had to stop every seven minutes, doubled over in pain. Our mailman noticed me doubled over and pulled over to check on me. “I’m FINE!” I smiled. “I’m not in labor, it’s just cramps!”
As the sun began to dip in the sky, I became more and more irritable and uncomfortable. I held my son tightly and gave him a kiss goodnight and my husband put him down for bed while I took a warm bath to try and relax. I broke down in tears in the tub, feeling exhausted, but unable to rest. I was frustrated, because, clearly, I was “NOT” in labor, but I was not feeling good at ALL.
My husband poked his head into the bathroom and saw that I was weeping bitterly. He knelt down and he prayed over me and helped me get out of the tub around 7:30 p.m. “Is Lucian asleep?” I asked. “He just fell asleep,” my husband smiled.
Then everything changed very quickly.
I started to moan through contractions and they were consistently 5 minutes apart or less. I was much more than just uncomfortable, I was in pain. I couldn’t move around during the contractions anymore, and had to lean over the side of our bed.
“Should I text Mary?” Cory asked. “I’m FINE. It’s not labor,” I said.
Cory walked out of the room and texted Mary, “She’s getting tired.”
Mary responded immediately, “Heading over now.”
At this point, I had made my way downstairs into the guest bedroom that we had set up for post-birth. “Cory, I’m NOT IN LABOR, I’M JUST CRAMPY.” I grabbed my exercise ball and was laboring on it and praying the Rosary when Mary walked in and enveloped me in her peaceful presence.
“Hey,” I said, “Did Cory text you? I don’t think it’s labor.” Mary stayed silent and helped me work through my contractions with hip squeezes. I wretched a little and I began shaking uncontrollably. “I think you might want to call Natalia,” she said.
I called Natalia on speaker phone, feeling breathless. The contractions were on top of each other. I remember I could hear sounds of kids playing in the background and Natalia sounding a little surprised to hear that things were progressing. “I’m guessing we have some time before I need to head over. Can I listen to a contraction?” Before she finished asking that question, I had a contraction, and moaned through it. It felt never ending. Not even thirty seconds later, I had another contraction.
The other end of the line was silent for a moment, and then, “I’m on my way over,” she said. And hung up.
“Do you want to try the pool?” Mary asked. “Yes! This is what I planned for!” I exclaimed.
With newfound energy, I waddled my way into our living room, where we had lit candles, hung Mary’s birthing affirmations, had Adoration on the tv, and a framed photo of St. Faustina’s “Jesus I Trust in You” positioned next to the birth pool. Cory had turned on a playlist of The Benedictines of Mary. As Cory filled the birth pool, I continued to labor in the kitchen.
I entered the birth pool at 8:30 p.m., and continued to labor. Mary knelt beside me while Cory nervously moved around the kitchen. I realized I was repeating over and over, “Thank you, God. Thank you, God.” And as the intensity grew and grew, “I trust. I trust. I trust.”
Suddenly, unexpectedly, I entered into a moment of deep and utter darkness and despair. The penetrating sense of abandonment was indescribable. I curled in on myself. The evil one's lies infiltrated my mind, telling me I wasn’t capable, I wasn’t in control, I wasn’t safe, and that I had to resist what was happening. I questioned if God had abandoned me. Everything suddenly went silent. There was at once, a spiritual recognition that this had to take place in order for His plan to come to fruition. And then, I had to choose: would I resist as the tempter tempted me? Or would I say yes to His will, and surrender?
I called out to Cory, who came and knelt beside me and held onto me. “Don’t leave…”
And then, in His perfect timing, Mary began to pray The Litany of Trust out loud (as we had talked about at meetings beforehand):
From the rebellion against childlike dependency on You... Deliver me, Jesus.
From refusals and reluctances in accepting Your will... Deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear of what love demands... Deliver me, Jesus.
I had a hard time even breathing out the responses, so my husband cradled my head and prayed them for me:
That my suffering, united to Your own, will bear fruit in this life and the next... Jesus, I trust in You.
That You give me all the strength I need for what is asked... Jesus, I trust in You.
That You will teach me to trust You...
Jesus, I trust in You.
I settled into a rhythm, an acceptance, a penetrating peace and trust as each wave pummeled me. And with confidence, I opened my heart, reached out my hand to Him in complete vulnerability.
The front door squeaked open and in walked Natalia and her nurse, LuAnn. “Oh…” Luann looked around and whispered, “I feel like I’m in a church!” The women quietly unpacked their things and Natalia gently asked permission to check baby’s heartbeat. “Everything is amazing. Baby is great, and you’re doing great,” she whispered.
“Hey Clarisse,” my husband said “you better hurry up and have this baby, because the feast day of Our Lady of Victory is almost over!!”
At 9:30 p.m., I instinctively got out of the pool to labor on the couch, on all fours. I started to feel like I had to poop. “I have to…pee…” I said. I felt like I was a celebrity walking the “red carpet” as my birth team laid chux pads down for me as I waddled slowly into the bathroom. Natalia and Luann made themselves comfortable in the dining room, talking about renovations and contractors with Cory while Mary stayed with me in the bathroom. “Mary, I feel like I have to poop.”
As the words came out of my mouth, I recalled vividly a very similar experience only a few months before…I grunted loudly. “Mary… am I in labor?…Am I having a baby tonight?!”
Mary smiled. I grunted again. The chatter in the dining room ceased.
“Clarisse, it is totally fine if you want to stay here on the toilet, but if you do, you are going to have a baby right here. Do you want to go back to the pool or stay here?”
“I didn’t decorate that room and blow up that birth pool for nothing!! Let’s do this.”
I got up and walked the red carpet of chux pads and got back into the birth pool and was alarmed to see my husband running back and forth from the pool to the sink with a massive soup pot, emptying the water from the pool.
“Cory…WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” “….the water is cold so I was going to refill it…”
“CORY, I’M HAVING A BABY, LIKE, RIGHT NOW.”
I climbed out of the pool and onto the couch again, on all fours, in a similar position I felt comfortable in when I birthed Lucian in the hospital. I grunted again and I heard a “POP”! At 9:53, my water broke.
“Would anyone like a SNACK?!?” I asked, breathlessly, “I made charcuterie…” My birth team chuckled and shook their heads, “No, thank you,” and they came over to me and surrounded me, gently asking permission to place their hands on me, to support me. LuAnn and Mary applied pressure to my hips. Words of love and affirmation were whispered by them and my husband, who knelt in front of me, face to face.
I grunted again and I felt her head begin to descend and then my brain and my body experienced, in a fleeting moment of fear, a wild irrational desire to escape, to run out of our house and down the street, away from everyone.
“UH…UH OH…I think I sucked her head back up in me,” I cried out in a panic.
“Oh, well don’t do that,” Mary said calmly as she held onto me. Her calm ethereal presence brought me back to trust and surrender in my circumstances.
I took a deep breath, and at 9:55, “Her head is out,” Natalia whispered.
And then, “She’s here!”
“WHAAAAAT?!” Cory asked. It all happened so fast! We both wept.
I did not catch my baby, I held onto my husband. Everything felt like it happened so quickly! My brain was still processing what had happened from the time my son went to bed to the present moment. But the very trusted and saintly women who were in communion with me throughout the entire journey, who prayed for me, listened to me, and gave space for me, caught our baby and gently passed her through my legs into my arms.
I realized my insecurity of being “incapable” of birthing at home and needing a sense of control in a hospital setting was just an opportunity for me to realize I needed to trust HIM more, that HE makes me capable, and that HE is in control. This is not to say that a hospital birth is bad, however, my own personal reasoning to be in a hospital had to do with my own lack of trust and an unhealthy desire for control (both are vices that I personally wrestle with). The support and safety I experienced at home felt like a blessing so undeserved and not what I expected when I gave my yes to home birth. But I guess that’s just how God works sometimes…when we give our yes, and surrender with trust, He surprises us and blesses us in ways we never could have imagined. I’m still learning!
We named our baby Loretta Rose, after our Blessed Mother, specifically, Our Lady of Loretto. Completely unbeknownst to me, the Latin inscriptions on the dome at Our Lady of Victory Basilica that I looked at longingly in search of the “perfect” name for our baby was actually the LITANY to OUR LADY OF LORETTO. She was there all along, reminding us all to give our yes.
From what I can remember post-birth, we all sat together, cozied up in our living room, like a bunch of friends having a visit. Loretta latched around 10:15 p.m., and I birthed the placenta soon after. Natalia and LuAnn found that I had a mild tear but it did not require stitiches.
I had a few clots, which I took a tincture for, and after the cord was cut around 10:45 p.m., Loretta and I settled into the guest bedroom where Natalia and LuAnn completed her newborn exam. As I laid back and continued to breastfeed her, I looked at my surroundings, a bit in shock. No fluorescent lights, no IVs, no beeping or unwelcome interruptions from strangers in scrubs. I was HOME. I was in my own Loretto, my own Santa Casa. And as the feast of Our Lady of Victory came to a close, I held Loretta Rose close, a plate of charcuterie lovingly delivered to my bedside by my doula, with my husband sitting next to me, smiling from ear to ear.
We woke up from a peaceful slumber in our own home, and as the light streamed through the windows, my husband brought our son Lucian downstairs to meet his sister for the first time. With tears in our eyes, my husband and I watched Lucian point at Loretta and smile as he shouted, “BABY” just like he would when she was still in my womb.
What a gift it has been, to labor and to suffer and to then bear abundant fruit that I know I do not deserve. Abundance was not born without sacrifice and literal blood, sweat and tears. Abundance was born from intense feelings of desolation… even abandonment. Abundant life is born from the grace He gives us to trust and to surrender. All we need to do is choose, like Our Blessed Mother, our Lady of Victory, to say YES.
Clarisse is a Catholic wife and mother who loves to talk about Jesus, the saints, motherhood, and birth. She now stays home raising her two babies and you can sometimes find her singing at Our Lady of Victory Basilica in Buffalo, NY.
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