As my husband and I drove home it felt like a rite of passage. Not only is Charlotte my first cow, she’s the first farm animal purchased for the homestead! She is an adorable brown 3-year-old Jersey. When we went to pick her up, she had a sweet and curious temperament. She hopped right into the trailer following a bucket of grain, and away we went. I didn’t have a worry in the world and couldn’t have been more excited to start drinking my own fresh raw milk, make butter and cheese, and have a companion for my horse. I figured a cow and a horse must be similar to handle…
The plan was to simply put her in the pasture and allow her and my horse, Kenobi, to adjust to each other while we watched. We agreed we would intervene if necessary but otherwise let them figure it out. Well, as soon as she unloaded from the trailer the chaos began. Her owners had given us a rope to control her by the neck, which was really ineffective. I struggled against her as she plunged around the property, pulling me along through puddles and ice. She went to see Kenobi at the fence, graze, and generally check things out. With my four-month-old, Bruce, strapped to my chest in his baby carrier this didn’t seem ideal, so Brandon came and took over leading her to the pasture. I went to grab a jacket and had to push past our desperately barking dogs. They were freaking out to see the cow and jumping all over the furniture in a frenzy of joyous excitement. When I got back outside, I was informed that Charlotte had run right under the fence when released into the pasture! We were going to need to modify it fast.
The fence is a cool bit of bush crafting my husband designed and built. He used trees as the fence posts and tied logs between them for the rails. So, what happened was that he built the pasture with my 16-hand thoroughbred in mind. We were in a huge hurry to get Kenobi home so he stopped after one rail in several places. Although it had been working great for the horse, we definitely needed lower logs to keep in this cow. He handed me Charlotte’s lead rope and jumped in the car to enlist the help of our other neighbor and friend. Once again, I was being pulled all around the property as I strained against her and tried to convince her to just chill out. Bruce started crying so I decided to let her free feed at the haybale and hope she would stay there while I went inside the camper with him. And she did! It honestly seemed like Charlotte wanted to stick around. Watching through the window as I nursed Bruce, I saw that she wandered a bit, sometimes tasting plants, sometimes kicking up her heels and playing around, and sometimes watching the men as they returned and got to work as fast as possible to secure the fence. Luckily, logs are abundant here so there is plenty of material to work with! At one point I went back outside and kind of loitered around a while, but ultimately decided to get Charlotte a tub of grain to keep her occupied and then work on getting my baby down for a nap. Surely, it’d be fine…
All of a sudden, I realized it had been several minutes since I had heard the chainsaw, voices, or Charlotte’s moo. With Bruce once again in the carrier I went out into the ominous quiet. Nobody was around. Not Brandon, not our neighbor, and not Charlotte. I listened hard and heard them calling her name from within the nearby state park. She had apparently disappeared into the woods. As soon as I realized this, the weight of my stupidity sank in. Of course she wasn’t going to just stay put by herself! What was I thinking?! Obviously, she doesn’t know this property or us well enough to free range. Now I had lost my cow on the same day as purchasing her. As I joined the search I was almost panicking. My mind created countless scenarios of tragic and humiliating outcomes. There were some cow tracks, but nothing we were able to follow for long. And walking farther into the surrounding forest was made cumbersome by sinking in the snow. She could have been anywhere. When we returned, the two guys got in the truck and drove down to the main road. I stayed behind, noisily shaking a bucket of grain and continuing to call for her. They came back empty handed and I, too, was unsuccessful.
It snowed shortly after Charlotte came home.
Just as we were running out of daylight, Brandon was able to find her! He was on the ATV following intuition on acres of public land, and there she was. As relief washed over me, I saw the humor in my mistakes. And after all the animals were fed and taken care of, we spent the evening having a good laugh at our own expense.
Charlotte in her temporary stall.
So anyway, when we got Charlotte back, I did make a point to hang on to her rope until she was secured. There was no way to finish the fence that night so we improvised a stall for her outside the pasture. Why we didn’t think of doing this from the beginning is beyond me! It was fast and easy compared to rebuilding a whole fence. There she stayed for two nights while the fence was under construction. And that’s the (mis)adventure of my first few hours owning a cow! I’m happy to say I can now lead her around well with a standard nylon horse halter, and that I’m enjoying her vibe. She’s affectionate, has been willing to bond with everyone, and seems to really like the baby! We purchased her knowing that she was drying up and I would need to work on her milk production. It’s been a challenge navigating that process and learning to hand-milk. But overall, cow ownership has been a rewarding experience! I’m looking forward to sharing more about it as I continue!
My son Bruce was born on December 3rd, 2022 at 10:15am at 38 weeks gestation. We were attended only by his father and our three dogs. I gave birth in the off-grid travel trailer we call home, parked on our homestead in the forested mountains of north western Montana. The morning sun reflected the bright white of a thick layer of snow, and a cheerful blue sky welcomed him to Earth.
The night of December 2nd I went for a walk around our property. I remember taking slow small steps and needing to stop frequently. I would sway with my hands on my knees while feeling tightness in my womb. I walked into the camper holding my belly up with my hands. That was providing immense relief and I commented to my husband how heavy it felt. “Is the baby coming?” he asked. I responded probably not. If there was one thing I wasn’t going to do, it was exhaust myself with the cycle of false hope and disappointment that can come from anticipating a baby’s arrival. But as it turns out I’d already been in labor at least a day. The previous forty-eight hours or so I’d been leaking a little fluid when I would sneeze or fart, and had slowed way down on my homesteading projects in favor of rest. At the time I laughed it off, as I had been experiencing a juicy abundance of cervical fluid the entire third trimester of my pregnancy. And, there’s a ton of memes out there talking about being exhausted and dragging around a heavy belly as a pregnant mama approaching forty weeks. Anyway, on the 2nd, our neighbors called and invited us to a popcorn party the following day with the group of us who live on the mountain. I was in enough denial at that point to accept the invite. Spoiler alert, I would be asleep with my baby on my chest and a box of pizza in my lap by the time of the party the next day.
Around 9pm while I was brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed, I released a larger gush of water. I went into the bathroom to grab a towel and try to pee. I didn’t see my mucus plug or any bloody show, so I figured this might not indicate anything. I was sitting on the toilet leaning my head against the wall when my husband again asked if I was in labor. He received a lecture from me about how waters can leak for days or reseal so it still could be days or weeks. I got into bed and started journaling. By the time I had finished I had gone through two more hand towels and was going to sleep with one in between my legs that night. I remember writing that I might be in labor, and messaged a friend of mine who was also close to the birthing portal. I tucked myself into bed, excited but still in denial that this was really happening. I had been convinced that I would carry to at least 40 weeks and was prepared to exceed 42. In fact, I had been so sure of it that I hadn’t even done the maternity photoshoot I had purchased a gown for. I hadn’t acquired even one waterproof covering for any of our furniture, didn’t have a stack of clean towels, or my birth playlist, or a cord clamp. And I definitely hadn’t prepped any meals for postpartum. I had plans to start that work when we went to the city for my birthday dinner and shopping excursion on December 4th. When I went into labor the propane tanks needed swapping out, the grey water was full, and the fresh water was declaring empty. Luckily the fresh water tank shows “E” with several gallons still in the tank and we had enough water that it was not an issue during the birth.
After a period of tossing and turning, at 1:30am I got out of bed. I realized my discomfort was going to make it impossible to sleep. My dogs gazed at me with semi-reproachful curiosity from their beds as I disturbed their slumber. I was in a dreamy headspace. The fact that I didn’t have supplies was far from my mind, and the notion that these sensations were contractions and I needed to prep my birth space came to me intuitively and without conscious thought. Feeling serene and focused as I warmed up my nettle tea, I just began to do it. I lit the candle and incense on my altar, and began to clear off the dining table- convertible bed where I planned to give birth. Living with so little counter space we had all manner of this and that on the table, including clean dishes set out to dry. I had my affirmation art cards hung up on a lighted string over the table and was content and happy with my chosen space. Around 3am, after struggling for a minute to remove the table top, I woke my husband, Brandon, up to help me. I offered to let him go back to bed and wake him up again when I thought I really needed him for the birth, but he opted instead to build a fire and change the propane tanks so he knew we’d be warm and comfortable.
I was beginning to play with vocalizing through the contractions, and it really helped me get into a rhythm with them. I was also experimenting with positioning my body. I’d go from being on hands and knees on the bed, to standing up hanging on the ledge of the pop out, to being on my knees next to the bed and draping my arms across it. It felt good to slowly move my body, but I had zero desire to go for a walk or move far from my little nest. My male Pitbull, Rocky, was sticking super close to me at this point and after tripping over him a couple times in the narrow walkway, my husband had to tell him to go lay down in his bed. Apart from that, the dogs didn’t interact with me or get out of bed until my son was born. Although out of my sight, they were only a few feet away and I’m sure keeping a close watch over me. As labor proceeded into the early hours of the morning the contractions never stopped or slowed down. They continued relentlessly as they ramped up in intensity and moved closer together. With this came the most intense pain I’ve ever dealt with for an extended time. It was pain that tested my trust in the strength and endurance of my body beyond anything I had prepared for. “I just need a break. Please. Just a short break, don’t let them come again right now” I remember pleading to nobody in particular when I felt a contraction beginning to build. I felt an almost panicked desperation when I knew it was about to come. And still they built more intense and closer. I was roaring like a truly wild animal and was fully in my primal brain. My conscious mind and along with it all worry and fear were gone.
I quickly found that laying on my side during labor was not for me. The pain was excruciating when I tried it. I had to immediately get my husband to help me back into standing both times. While riding the waves on my knees on a pillow by the bed my waters fully released in a satisfying rush. Shortly after, needing to find a way to rest, I dropped to the floor and laid down on my back. I was getting so tired and yet the night was still in full darkness. It hadn’t been more than a few hours. My husband put a pillow behind my head and I rode out some contractions there until the hard cold floor began to be too much. Looking up I saw our bed down the tiny corridor. I had him help get me there, even though my intention had been to keep that as a clean space and not labor on it. On the bed I finally found the comfort I had been looking for. Laying on my back I was able to close my eyes and drift into a semi sleep state between contractions. My consciousness was traveling the astral realms and I again was fully in my body. At one point I became aware that I was lifting my shoulders up off the bed into a crunch or sit-up position and pushing as a contraction would hit. So that was how I did the bulk of my pushing work, in a space where time did not exist for me. In the dark my husband was sitting on the edge of the bed subtly timing my contractions for his own information and never telling me what the spacing was. Despite the pain, I got the rest I had been so desperate for. I roared my baby down through my birth canal. It was all instinctive. Giving birth is coded in my DNA and in the ancient ancestral knowing that is my birthright as a woman.
Then, all at once my conscious mind returned to me. I felt mildly refreshed and I needed to go to the bathroom. I hobbled over to our composting toilet and sat down, very glad that everything in the camper is close together! I remember sitting there, again leaning my head against the wall, and it was in that moment that some fear returned. I verbalized to my husband feeling that I couldn’t do it if it took much longer. I was afraid of the unknown length of the road still ahead. I was afraid because I hadn’t felt my baby move since labor had begun. I was terrified of stillbirth and of my baby being born needing emergency care. Although he later let me know that he was unnerved by my words, he demonstrated deep strength and wisdom and did not let on. Kneeling down in front of the toilet he reassured me that everything was exactly as it should be. He reminded me of my mantras and together we repeated “I trust the process” and “I release control” among others. He then asked me if I felt like I needed to poop, to which I responded that it felt like I had had a dingleberry for a super long time, but wouldn’t be able to get it out. I never confirmed if this was true, although at one point later he did nonchalantly wipe my butthole. As I sat on the toilet, I instinctively reached up inside myself and felt the top of my baby’s head. It was a magical moment and a huge relief! It felt so soft, small, and round. This experience infused me with a fresh burst of energy and I suddenly knew that I absolutely could do it and would do it. I was going to push my baby out! Not wanting to give birth on the toilet I got up and went back to my birthing space.
I looked out the window and was in a daze, blinking at the snow-covered pine trees in the dazzling golden morning sun. I got on the converted bed on my hands and knees and began to consciously push with each contraction, knowing it wouldn’t be long now. As I had throughout labor, I called for my husband’s hand to squeeze at the height of the sensations. He had also been in charge of encouraging me to drink water, and being hydrated was a huge asset by this point. I felt my baby’s head press against the opening of my vagina and almost emerge. Then it would get sucked back up inside me when the contraction was finished. This happened several times and each time I was struck by how far back up it would go. I could feel his head coming out slightly more each time and stretching my opening. I tried so hard to push it out. I felt like I just needed another second or two, but then the contraction would end. I was getting exhausted. My arms ached from supporting my upper body and I started to let my face press down into the cushions and close my eyes between contractions. The pain had lessened during the excitement after feeling his head, but it all came rushing back now.
I thought I might throw up. I dry heaved over a bowl and instantly regretted it due to a flap of skin choking me. It would go on to be a real burr under my saddle in my healing process, bothering me during every cough and making simple things like spitting out toothpaste an ordeal. I think it was the result of how much I was vocalizing. But anyway, remembering how well being on my back had worked earlier, I flipped over and began to push that way again. I asked my husband what he saw during a contraction. He positioned himself between my legs and with tears in his eyes confirmed he saw the head. His excitement gave me strength as he built me up with positive words of how well I was doing and that our baby was almost here! At this point I was fully in my conscious brain and pushing with all my might, still screaming and roaring my power and my frustration to the world. Finally, the moment came where when I pushed his head emerged. I didn’t feel a ring of fire, I think because of how many times his head had come down and stretched my opening, barely short of the amount necessary. Bruce took his first breath, and my husband joyfully reported that he was indeed alive. I had been holding on to and suppressing some anxiety surrounding the birth outcome, and in that moment felt overwhelming ecstatic relief. It was absolutely one of the best moments of my life so far.
Suddenly the pain intensified, completely catching me off guard. I thought the head was supposed to be the most painful part! But the time waiting for my next contraction was more painful than his head’s emergence. I wiggled and squirmed in agony and even pushed without a contraction because I so badly wanted his body out. That did not work. So, after a couple contraction cycles, I asked my husband again what he saw. He could see his whole head and his hand. Bruce had actually grabbed Brandon’s finger while he was still inside me! The hand being up there definitely explained the pain. Finally, on what was perhaps the third contraction after head emergence, the rest of my son’s perfect little body came sliding out into his dad’s hands. There was a gush of blood and a few large blood clots that followed his body and anointed one of our table cushions. My husband checked the gender and proudly passed our baby boy Bruce up to me. I placed him on my chest, smelling, kissing and loving on him while I also did the work of inspecting him.
Inspecting my brand new baby
Bruce was born a little bit blue and we needed to get him covered so he could share my body heat effectively and warm up. My husband grabbed my bath towel that we had been using in the labor and quickly placed it over us before he went to grab a cozier throw blanket. Once we were snuggling in our post-birth bliss my husband and I were able to see that the blue was rapidly pinking up and his ability to absorb oxygen was totally fine. As was his overall alertness and responsiveness. Over the next few minutes, we watched the color improve on his entire vernix coated body, from his head down to his little feet. He had some congestion which we chose to allow him to work through naturally as it did not seem to be interfering with his breathing in any significant way. He cried a little bit and suckled for a few seconds before falling into a peaceful sleep. I would have preferred for him to nurse more, but I chose not to disturb him. I squeezed my breast a little bit out of curiosity and saw the beads of colostrum form on my nipples. Later on, before we figured out feeding and latching properly, I would use that technique to entice him to try to eat. The Golden Halo of two hours post-birth is a truly special experience. During that time the divine Goddess within me completed my transformation from Maiden to Mother as I soaked in my journey through the birth portal.
As much as I wanted to crawl into bed, after about forty-five minutes my husband reminded me that I still needed to birth my placenta. The last thing I wanted to do was get up and push anything else out of my vagina. But, knowing that I was not done with my birth process yet, he grabbed my large blue ceramic serving bowl and I positioned myself over it. He held Bruce and tried to assist me in keeping the cord from yanking tight while I got into position. It’s hard to describe the strange sensation of the spongey white umbilical cord still in my body and attached to my baby. I had been hoping the placenta would just plop out like I’ve heard on some birth stories, but it definitely did not. I hovered above the bowl waiting for a contraction. At that point I really hadn’t gotten the uncomfortable cramping sensations that I had been expecting. Oh well. I figured I’d try again in a little while. As I was settling back onto the cushions our neighbors unexpectedly showed up. What had happened was before I went into labor Brandon had been trying to move a wooden foundation slab but couldn’t do it himself. He had asked them to come help him when they could. So, with me completely naked, placenta still attached, covered in blood and various birth juices we welcomed our new friends into our home and proudly showed off our very brand-new baby boy who was asleep on my chest. I had been so protective of my birth plan, insisting on no visitors and had not invited anyone to the birth. This development was entirely unexpected. But there I was, making semi awkward small talk with a young woman who I’d only met very briefly twice before.
After a while I realized I needed to work on my placenta again. At that point it had been over three hours since the birth. In addition to the concerns of a retained placenta, having it inside me and the cold umbilical cord still between my legs was increasingly uncomfortable. Deciding I couldn’t afford to be self-conscious; I asked my neighbor to hold Bruce so I could squat over the bowl and attempt to get it done. By the time Brandon was back in the camper and my placenta was still not out, I made the decision that I wanted to cut the cord to give myself more freedom of movement. But what were we going to clamp or tie it off with? We had not prepared for this. Our neighbors offered to go get a brand-new pair of shoelaces that were a decent thickness for the job. A few minutes later my husband very tightly tied off the cord and we snipped it with a regular pair of scissors, sanitized with rubbing alcohol. By that point I was also beginning to feel like Bruce really needed to nurse again. He was still sleeping peacefully and uninterested in latching. So first I worked on my placenta. I thanked her, I squatted over the bowl and I pushed. This only resulted in me bleeding and peeing in the bowl. I massaged my womb, I pulled gently on the cord, and I walked around. The cord was dangling out of me and swinging around, dripping blood into the bowl and onto the floor. I moved my hips in circles. Nothing happened.
Bruce with his shoelace cord tie
Time was moving fast by this point and I was getting concerned. I knew that I was not about to go to the hospital and get it scrapped out of me. They would also likely pressure me with antibiotics, Pitocin, and hassle me with other unnecessary bullshit. I began to fantasize about just leaving it in forever. But I knew it was necessary for me to take responsibility and get it out. I reviewed a post by Emilee Saldaya of Freebirth Society about the placenta and was reassured that what I really needed to do was be determined and focused. I realized I was holding on to hesitation because I really was afraid to push anything else out of my vagina. Also, my birth process had been interrupted by the neighbor visit, dragging me into conscious reality. Armed with that knowledge I attempted again to get my sleeping baby to nurse. When that failed, I gave him to my husband for skin-to-skin bonding and went into the bathroom. I was completely set on only exiting the bathroom with the placenta in the bowl. I sat down on the toilet, again thanking my placenta for nourishing my baby. I again began to push while pulling the cord with increasing tension. I would feel it stretch and then I would back off the pulling, being careful not to do anything that could lead to it snapping. I rubbed my abdomen and rolled my hips in circles. I still wasn’t experiencing any contractions. After a while instead of pushing I focused on full body relaxation. I visualized the placenta moving down while continuing to apply traction on the cord. I finally began to feel some progress and eventually I could reach inside myself and feel the placenta in my vaginal canal. What a welcome relief! I took a deep breath and tried not to tense up as I pulled her down to my very swollen opening. I gave a gentle and slow push and the placenta squeezed out and landed right in the composting toilet. Wahoo! It may have taken six hours, but my placenta was out and I was finished giving birth! I stood up and a stream of blood came out of me. I evaluated myself for any weakness or dizziness. Well, I did feel weak in the legs and completely exhausted but I decided that was totally justified considering the circumstances.
My placenta was like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I stared at her in awe, my eyes following the three veins that form the tree of life and appreciating the way the amniotic sac still clung on. She was large, meaty, purplish in color and definitely more edible looking than I expected. My plan had been to keep an open mind on the idea of eating my placenta, particularly if I had lost a lot of blood or felt depleted. With her in the toilet that was no longer on my list of options. I inspected her for wholeness, and was satisfied that there weren’t any pieces missing. Although, five days into postpartum recovery, as I was gingerly applying warm compresses to my yoni, out came a blood clot with a piece of what appeared to be placenta attached to it. This was an unnerving development! But it had come out and that was a good thing. I didn’t have a fever and my healing was going great so I decided to try not to worry. I made sure I kept up with the warm compressing and no further pieces ever came out. I gently picked her up and deposited her in the bowl.
Proud and euphoric I crawled onto the converted bed and my husband put little Bruce back on my chest. I’m not sure who suggested it, but the plan became that he would go get us a pizza while I rested. I tend to mark important life events this way. He helped me get Bruce lined up and secure our very first true latch. I nursed and cuddled my little boy in complete bliss. After the pizza arrived my husband asked if I would be okay if he went over to the popcorn party at the neighbors for a little while. He thrives on social interaction and community building, and I wasn’t really ready to move yet anyway so I was fine with it. He turned on the water heater to begin the warming up process, refilled my water bottle, and left the camper as I drifted into a deep sleep. At one point I woke up and realized my last piece of pizza had slid off my lap and onto the floor. I reached down and grabbed that little sucker and ate it anyway, then fell back asleep. When he got home about two hours later, I was definitely ready for a shower and a more comfortable bed. Bruce got some more daddy bonding time and I took a piping hot RV shower. In the tiny space I used the full six gallons available to me to wash myself clean with Dr. Bronners baby unscented castile soap and check out the state of my lady bits. I was really happy to find that I hadn’t torn at all! It felt like there was a minor abrasion on my right inner labia, indicated by a very mild pain when I would pee. Despite the fact that I was definitely swollen, I felt myself to have come through the sacred birth portal in near perfect condition. I intend to write in detail about my experiences postpartum. There is a lot to say about off-grid healing, early mothering for the first time, co-sleeping, breastfeeding, and elimination communication. But those are topics for another day.
I finished my shower, retrieved my baby from his father, and snuggled into bed with them both as a happy and contented family of three. Our bed does not have a full walk around, so even though that caused me a lot of irritation in late pregnancy it felt really safe for the start of my co-sleeping journey. Even so, I set up an intricate system of safety pillows. I spent that night and well into the next day drifting in and out of sleep. I would rest my hand on his little chest to feel the rhythm of his breathing. I lay there in sheer happiness, absorbing how my life would never be the same. No longer a maiden, I had become a mother and my life’s most important work was just beginning to unfold.
