When Heaven Interrupts: A Miracle in My Living Room
“We all pull into the open parking stall and praise god for it,
But the big miracles in life we doubt or question.”
This summer I took a trip to my hometown in Northern Canada to visit my family and friends with my son. It’s been a whole year since I was last there and I am so incredible grateful that I was able to make this trip. Spending time in nature – the mountains, trees, fresh air, fishing, hiking, are all things I have missed deeply since moving to West Texas. I always enjoy my visits up North and cherish all the moments spent catching up with loved ones.
In truth though – this trip was harder than past trips. This trip contained a tremendous amount of prayer, answer seeking, and soul reflecting. It feels as though the spiritual thermostat has been turned up 1000 degrees, and to be honest, I am struggling to keep up. Releasing control has been a common theme in my life, and lives of those around me, as of late.
I still don’t fully have words for what happened that Friday. But I’m going to try my best.
To be completely honest – If I had not witnessed this firsthand, I might not have believed it myself.
Did that really happen like that? Did I see that correctly? What explanation is there for this?
But it did happen. I saw it with my own two eyes. And it’s the most black and white way God has ever shown himself to me.
I believe we are entering a season of life that is truly unlike any other.
I’m not asking you to believe in miracles because of one story – I’m just telling you what I witnessed. And, if you ever find yourself needing a miracle, I hope you remember this one.
Friday July 18th, 2025
Axel is three now and is in the stage of life where he wants to take on every single challenge he sees (yikes!). The number of scrapes and bruises this kid gets daily – it’s insane. I was raised in a house full of girls and let me tell you… boys are built different, y’all.
One Friday in Canada, Axel was playing outside and started screaming. When my sister went to the backyard to check on him, he was screaming at the back door – unable to lift his arm to open the door. He made his way over to me (I was in the bathroom at the time), still screaming and crying.
I’m used to scratches, bruises, and crying, but this time was different.
His arm was limp at his side, and he kept screaming “My arm! My arm! It hurts mama! It hurts so much! My arm hurts!” He was barely able to speak between the screams of pain.
I remember looking down at him and knowing that something was very wrong.
“Where does it hurt?” I asked him, as I knelt to examine the arm.
“Everywhere. It hurts all over,” he yelled, the limp arm still dangling at his side.
“Can you move it?” I replied.
“No, I can’t” he yelled back, still screaming.
I reached over and gently looked at his arm. There was noticeable bruising and swelling on the forearm, specifically. I bent his arm at the elbow ever so slightly, as gentle as I could, and I instantly heard a very loud audible, cracking noise. I have never heard this sound before but the closest I can describe it is a tree branch being snapped in half and all the little branches breaking. My body shivered at the sound. While I did this, he let out a bloodcurdling scream and I instantly knew – this was not a normal injury.
I attempted to pick him up and he screamed at me that he didn’t want to be touched because it hurt so bad. I ushered him over to the couch as he continued screaming.
My mom is a nurse, so I yelled for my sister to go get her.
Axel does not have a Canadian health care card, so any hospital visits would be completely out of pocket. Canada does not function the same as the US, and there are no “cash pay” discounts. Plus, we would be paying foreign fees, as well.
Mom walked in and I quickly gave her the download.
“I think his arm is broken, what do I do? He has no health care card I have no idea what to do right now,” I desperately said to her.
She knelt and looked at the arm.
My mom went into full nurse mode, which I have seen her do before. Super calm. Super collected. Not panicked. Just evaluating the situation.
At this point I ran and grabbed some ice for it. Mom felt the arm very quickly and he let out more screams. The blue bruising and swelling had gotten exponentially worse and was getting increasingly worse, with every moment. The arm was hot to the touch with a noticeable bulge that she felt when examining it. My mom is very composed individual, but I could tell she knew this was a bad injury. Without an x-ray to be certain, she confirmed that it was broken.
Immediately my mom laid her hands on him. I quickly followed suit and laid hands as well.
“Lord we know you are a God of healing. You are so incredible Lord, and we know you have the power to heal this. We are asking you to heal this in the name of Yeshua. We are asking for full and complete healing over axels arm.”
Axel at the end of the prayer said, “Amen.”
That was all. It was a quiet, quick prayer. A simple one. A calm one. I have never felt this during a prayer before… but this overwhelming feeling of peace came over me, and I knew God was going to heal him in that instant.
Axel stopped crying immediately and within moments, the bruising and swelling was going away.
It happened so quickly, so peacefully, so swiftly, it almost felt like a dream.
Mom and I looked at each other, stunned.
“Am I crazy or is the bruising gone?” she asked
“You’re not crazy. It is gone.” I said, examining his arm.
“The swelling too?” she said
“Yes,” I replied. “I don’t actually have words right now.”
All signs of injury had vanished. In fact – Axel was so good at this point that about 30 seconds to a minute later he was jumping around, fully using his arm, ready to play again.
We didn’t speak for a little afterwards, I think because we were trying to process what just happened.
“We just witnessed a miracle.” She said, in pure disbelief. “God just healed his arm.”
“I know. I can’t believe that just happened… I am in shock,” I replied.
“No one is going to believe us.” She said back.
“No, you’re right. They won’t. I don’t even fully believe it and I just saw that with my own two eyes.”
“This is so crazy. I am so thankful right now. Thank you, Father, for healing Axel.” She said.
The moments following the miracle were pure shock. Digesting what I witnessed, with my own two eyes, and trying to rationalize it using science and my knowledge of the world.
Could there be any explanation for what I just saw?
Could I have over exaggerated the injury?
My mom was in full nurse brain. She is trained. She saw the color, swelling, bulge, screams. It wasn’t dramatized.
What about the “Pulled elbow” theory?
I later investigated nursemaids elbow (which sometimes pops back into place and instantly feels better) but that doesn’t cause swelling, bruising, bulging, crunching.
Can adrenaline explain it?
Adrenaline can make you run on a broken leg, but it won’t make swelling, color change, and misalignment disappear.
Could it have just looked bad?
Very unlikely. This was a scream-bend-crunch-bruising-bulge moment. Again, my mom is a nurse. She doesn’t panic over a scaped knee.
There are no good medical explanations for what I witnessed.
Which is exactly the point.
We say we believe in a God that still does miracles… but when one happens in front of us, we race to explain it away.
We will praise him for opening parking spots and job opportunities, but when something truly unexplainable happens – something that breaks all the rules of science and logic – we hesitate.
“Maybe it wasn’t that bad.” “Maybe he just got better.”
Why is it easier to believe in coincidence than in Gods hand?
After high school I did mission work in Costa Rica. I remember hearing of all the earth-shattering miracles God had done for the locals and thinking to myself, “Wow, I wish he did things like this in my life! .This is so cool!”
In many parts of the world, miracles are expected. There’s no backup plan. No urgent care around the corner. Just a bold belief that if God doesn’t move – nothing will.
In the West, we don’t rely on miracles – we’ve got medicine, insurance, therapy, and google. So, when they do happen, we flinch. “Surely there’s a rational explanation”.
But what if there isn’t? What if God didn’t stop moving… we just stopped noticing?
——
A few days later I was praying about this and asking God to help me with the pieces of doubt I felt creeping in, from those close to me not believing this story. I was also praying to ask for forgiveness – for questioning why he chose to heal Axel’s arm.
While I was praying, I was reminded of a dream I had had many months ago. I called my mom to tell her this dream too, at the time. My dream was about spiritual gifts – the setting of my dream was intense spiritual warfare – I was being told that I need to lean more into my spiritual gifts because there is a spiritual battle happening.
In my dream God told me that one of my gifts was the gift of prophecy and I needed to start taking my dreams more seriously, because that is a major way he speaks to me. He also told me my mom had the gift of prophecy and that I needed to tell her.
There was one other gift he told me she had in this dream;
The gift of healing.
At the time, Mom and I laughed and made some jokes about it – her being a nurse and all. We talked about how we do tend to doubt ourselves because it seems a little crazy that God would show us things in that way, or that he could use us in that manor. We were open minded but still taking it with a grain of salt.
Flash forward to today – that dream smacked me in the face. It was almost like God was saying “why are you still doubting my authority?”
Miracles are meant to strengthen your belief. And that day, my belief in Yahweh was strengthened.
I pray this story blesses and encourages you,
For those Hungry for Something a Little Deeper
I didn’t mean to take a two-year blogging sabbatical… but maybe I needed it.
Hey friends – it’s been a hot minute since I sat down and wrote a blog post (not for lack of wanting to, mostly for lack of prioritizing it).
So many of you reached out to me, and continue to reach out to me, after reading my post about my son’s homebirth. It brings me so much joy to see my story impacting people in a meaningful way and encouraging those in similar situations. Seeing the impact, it’s had on those around me, has been truly incredible.
Since the launch of Simply Sourdough in 2023, my life has jumped on a speed ramp and hasn’t slowed down, even slightly. Spending time doing anything nonproductive, or even something that’s just for me, has been difficult for me to prioritize during this season of life – which includes my time with creative writing and this blog.
Recently however, I have had this blog on my heart a lot. Feeling a desire to pick it back up again and share some experiences that have happened over the last few years of my life.
I know everyone and their mom has a podcast now-a-days, but starting one myself has been so heavy on my heart these last few months. I cannot stop thinking about it.
My husband asked me what’s stopping me from starting one.
I told him, “Well, number one. Time. Something will have to give if I want to have enough time to do that. Number two, what if no one listens to it?”
He said, “Well… then do it for you.”
And honestly. He’s right. If even one person is blessed or encouraged by something I share, it would be worth it.
And that one person, might just be me. lol.
Even more so – walking in the calling or path I feel God is leading me towards, is purpose enough – even if I don’t know what fruit it will bring yet. Stepping into something, without really knowing where it will take me, is exactly how Simply Sourdough was created. And that has been one of the biggest blessings in my life, to date.
Sharing the messy, vulnerable, parts of life has always been something I have felt passionately about.
Turning pain, into purpose.
Isn’t that what we are all trying to do, at the end of the day?
A message that I have been hearing a lot lately in my prayer life is:
“Your deepest trials,
are your greatest testimony”
I think I’m finally ready to take action on that.
Being vulnerable isn’t easy for me. For so much of my life, I have told myself that vulnerability = weakness. If people know my vulnerabilities, they know how to get to me. And in a world, where so many people have ill intent, handing my enemy the key to hurting me, feels illegal almost.
“Showing weakness,
will make people think I’m not strong.
And I need people to think I’m strong
so they don’t take advantage of me.”
This is a message I have told myself, since I was as young as I can remember. And you know what? That’s a lie. Or at least, a partial lie. I’m entering a season of life in which I’m being shown that true authentic strength is directly connected to the amount of vulnerability I can show. If God is giving me these trials, and I am fighting them alone – hiding, refusing to talk about it, acting like it’s not happening – I am taking away his ability to use my trials as testimony for others. And honestly – that is so selfish of me. I’m learning to be more consumed with following Gods direction and guidance, and less consumed with how these things will make me “look” to others.
In a conversation with my brother and sister-in-law the other day, my brother-in-law said to me:
“Mia – the more vulnerable you are able to be, the stronger it will make you.”
And you know what? He’s right, too! (Don’t tell him that though)
I’m not here on earth for the approval of anyone other than God, and if I’m walking in his purpose, that’s enough for me.
So, with that said. Here’s something vulnerable. Something real. Something I’m sure more people can relate to than I wish. It’s unfiltered, raw, and messy. But you know what? So is life.
Week after week, I make nourishing food for people and their families. Well… this one is for any of you hungry for something a little deeper.
Powerlessness in Motherhood
Introduction to motherhood starts with learning how to release control. Birth is the introduction to surrender. Pregnancy teaches you to let go of your plans. And motherhood? It’s the daily practice of releasing control repeatedly.
You don’t get to choose how your body grows. You don’t get to script the timing, the tears, or the way labor unfolds. You don’t get to pause time when it all feels like too much — or not enough.
From the very beginning, God invites us into motherhood not through control, but through trust.
Trust in His timing. Trust in His plan. Trust that even in the mess, the stretching, the surrender… something holy is being formed — in them, and in you.
Motherhood isn’t about mastering it all. It’s about learning to release —and realizing that in the letting go, you are held. Somehow, even rock bottom of the ocean – he can be found with you.
When the Unthinkable Happens: A Story I Never Wanted to Tell
Content warning: This post contains reference to sexual assault involving a child. Please read, and watch, with care. If this is a sensitive or triggering topic for you, consider if or when it feels safe to continue.
I almost didn’t share this. But something in me kept whispering — if telling the truth can help even one person feel less alone, then it’s worth it.
So here it is: A video I recorded from my car, in a moment when the weight of what I’ve been carrying finally overflowed.
When my son was one years old, he was sexually assaulted by an older boy close to us — and it broke something in me that I don’t yet know how to name. As a mother, it’s the kind of trauma that lives in your bones. It changes the way you breathe. The way you see the world. The way you trust.
And, aside from reporting it to CPS, I’ve been silent about it — partly to protect my son, partly because I’ve had no words, and partly because grief this deep feels impossible to explain.
One of our biggest reasons for not sharing this story, was the fear that one day my son would hear it, and he would know what happened. My husband and I thought keeping it secret, was the best way to protect him. We didn’t want him to feel broken or damaged by evil that was done to him at someone else’s hand.
The inconvenient truth is this though: Secrets breed shame. Truth fosters trust. Keeping this event completely hidden forever can unintentionally send a message that what happened is something he should be ashamed of. It can fracture his sense of self if he learns about it later, and feels he was deceived or that something was “too awful” to speak of.
This isn’t a story of his brokenness or victimization – it’s a story of someone else’s wrongdoing, our fierce protection, and the healing journey that goes along with that.
There is zero blame, or shame, that should be placed on him surrounding this. This needs to be a mindset we change when it comes to anyone who's been sexually abused. Period.
While this incident was happening at summer camp, I was texting my husband…
Asking him, am I overreacting? Should I say something? Am I crazy for feeling this way about someone touching him like that? Sending him pictures of the TV screen, with the boy and my son, asking if they made my husband feel the same level of uncomfortableness?
Doubting myself.
Telling myself I need to calm down. It’s not that big of a deal. I don’t want to cause a scene or make anyone uncomfortable.
He responded,
“They might think you’re crazy but it doesn’t matter – he’s our baby. It’s our job to protect him.”
And it’s true. It doesn’t matter if they think I’m crazy. If I am seeing my son in an uncomfortable situation, it’s my job to speak up for him, and help him learn that it’s okay to make others uncomfortable when it comes to setting your boundaries.
This video was taken this week. Two years after the incident, but still very much in the thick of all the emotions. I simply turned on the camera and spoke. I didn’t plan what I’d say. I didn’t clean anything up. I just told the truth as best I could.
Ruffle feathers, it may.
In fact – ruffle feathers, it should.
I talked about trauma — how it freezes you, changes your body, alters your instincts. I talked about the grief of innocence lost. This story isn’t finished. But I’m showing up in this space not because we’re healed, but because I believe in telling the truth while we’re still in the messy middle.
“The broken parts of our stories
are often the ones
that feed people the most.”
And maybe that’s why I’m posting this. Not because I want to — I don’t.
But because I know someone else is carrying something too heavy to name. And maybe they need someone to say: Me too. It’s not your fault. You’re not crazy. You’re not alone.
I don’t have a lesson. I don’t have answers.
But I do have this: a voice that refuses to go silent in the face of evil.
A heart that still — somehow — believes that redemption is possible.
And a God who, even when I can’t feel Him, I still dare to trust is near.
There may be more to say in time. Maybe a podcast, maybe not. But for now, just this.
This video.
This truth.
This offering.
Thank you for being here.
Thank you for listening.
Blessings,
Mia
Preeclampsia and My Miracle Home Birth
Axel Lee Tuttle
Trigger Warning: Infant Loss
The Pregnancy Test;
When Corbin and I first got married, my Dad made a joke to Corbin that if I was anything like my Mom, I would get pregnant fast. So, unless we wanted a honeymoon baby, we had better be extra careful. Corbin and I laughed about that comment for a long time.
Turns out, Dad got the last laugh.
It was the week of October 16th, 2021. My cycle was 4 days late, which never happens. I had a feeling I was pregnant but didn’t want to take a test because then it would make it real. My flight back to Canada was booked to leave in a few days, and being pregnant would really change everything.
Corbin & I took a trip to Target that day for a pregnancy test. Something in me knew I was pregnant. So much so, that I actually bought prenatal vitamins at Target as well.
“I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t think there is ever a perfect time to have kids.”
I don’t think you’re ever going to be 100% ready. As much as anyone wants to have kids, I don’t think anything really prepares you for the emotions of that first positive pregnancy test. Excited, nervous, shocked, scared, anxious, blessed… all the feels. From day one, Corbin and I have wanted a big family. When people ask us how many children we want, our usual answer is “as many as we can afford”. This being said, we didn’t feel ready. It was terrifying. The pregnancy was unplanned and there were so many unknowns in our life at the time. I had not even received my green card to move to the USA.
That positive test was about to flip our lives completely upside down, for the better.
Getting that positive test felt surreal and scary, but I knew it was going to be okay. I felt a deep peace that this was meant to be, and even though we had no idea how we were going to make it work, we knew God would provide.
“So many thoughts rushed through my mind. I did not know the first thing about being pregnant.”
What books do I need to read? What am I going to have to give up? What food is okay and what food isn’t? I was drinking last weekend, is my baby going to be okay or did I already mess them up?! Oh my goodness, I went in the hot tub last night?!
My first time ever experiencing mom guilt – a feeling I have now grown very familiar with.
It was at this very moment, that my body did not feel like it was not just my own. And, to be completely raw and honest, it has never felt like it was just my own ever since.
But, I wouldn’t change that for the world.
The beginning of our ✨Mom and Dad era✨
The Pregnancy;
My whole pregnancy I was planning for a home birth. There were many reasons for this choice. Mainly because I believe birth is a natural event that sometimes requires medical intervention, not a medical event that sometimes occurs naturally. Also, I wanted a water birth and the hospital would not allow that. There was no birth center in Midland at the time or I might have considered that instead. Another big reason was finances. We didn’t have health insurance, and paying for a hospital birth out of pocket is roughly $15,000 (without complications). The cost of a midwife was between $7000-$8000, which was a lot easier to stomach. If you haven’t watched “The Business of Being Born” – I highly recommend it. It goes over a lot of the other reasons I opted for an out-of-hospital birth.
“I believe birth is a natural event that sometimes requires medical intervention, not a medical event that sometimes occurs naturally.”
One of the questions I often get is how Corbin felt about me wanting a home birth. A lot of people in Corbin’s life are in support of homebirth. His oldest brother, Jaron, and his wife, Bekah have actually had home births with all of their children. Because of this, Corbin was already pretty comfortable with the idea before I even mentioned it.
Bekah was actually pregnant with her 5th child at the time, making us bump buddies, which was very exciting. Our babies were due roughly 3 months apart, so I was able to turn to her for a lot of advice and wisdom during my pregnancy. Bekah had only ever said phenomenal things about a local CPM midwife here in Midland, Shanna Cloyd, who owns Anthus. As soon as I was pregnant, I knew I had to reach out to Shanna to see if she would take me on as a client as well. After meeting with Shanna, asking her any questions we had, we made the choice to move forward under her care. (Best. Choice. Ever.)
My pregnancy, up until the last few weeks, was relatively easy. The first trimester, and probably halfway into the 2nd trimester I had horrible nausea and trouble stomaching most foods, but when that subsided I felt much better. I was exercising, going to prenatal swim class, eating well, and doing everything I knew to do.
When I was 26 weeks pregnant, my sister in law, Bekah, went into labor.
Their 5th daughter, Jubilee, was born at home on March 18th, just after midnight. Jubilee passed away minutes after being born for reasons that are still unknown to this day.
The thought of going through an entire pregnancy, giving birth, only to lose my baby minutes after being born, had honestly not crossed my mind. Sure, you hear of this happening to other people. But having it happen to someone so close to us, only a few months before I was set to give birth? That shifts your mindset a little bit. That makes it real.
“If you’ve never heard of medical brainwashing before – this is it. Blaming a home birth during a home birth emergency, but not blaming the hospital during a hospital birth emergency.”
After Jubilee’s death, we had a lot of people who were openly questioning our decision to continue through with a home birth, which, honestly, really messed with my head. If you’ve never heard of medical brainwashing before – this is it. Blaming a homebirth during a homebirth emergency, but not blaming the hospital during a hospital birth emergency. I have a lot more thoughts on this subject, but I’ll leave it at that for now.
There was so much fear being pushed onto Corbin and I (most of it was unintentional), that it became incredibly hard to discern between God’s will for the situation, and man’s fear.
After a lot of prayer and reflection, Corbin and I felt like the Lord was still directing us towards a home birth and he was giving us a lot of peace surrounding that decision. So, we continued on planning for a home birth.
As I inched past the 30 week mark, we started preparing for the birth.
We took birth classes, educated ourselves on what a natural home birth would look like, ways to manage the pain, things we could do to prepare. I listened to positive birth stories (and cried to every single one).
Birth Affirmations
I started a list of birth affirmations in my journal – every few days I would update my chalkboard with a new birthing affirmation to meditate and reflect on. The plan was for Corbin to have these affirmations handy during my labor.
At my 36 week midwife check up, however, I got heart wrenching news.
I was diagnosed with preeclampsia.
“At my 36 week midwife check up, I got heart wrenching news. I was diagnosed with preeclampsia.”
For those who don’t know what preeclampsia is, I’ll give a quick synopsis:
Preeclampsia occurs in roughly 2-8% of pregnancies (although, I think those percentages are rising). The exact cause isn’t totally known. There is a risk of serious complications such as: HELLP syndrom, placental abruption (separation of the placenta from the uterus), poor blood flow to the placenta meaning the baby isn’t getting enough oxygen and nutrients, and/or full blown eclampsia leading to strokes, seizures, comas, or even fatality. Your kidney and liver are not functioning the way they should, and the longer it goes on, the more likely you are to get permanent organ damage. I was told that there is no treatment for it and the only thing to stop it, is to get the baby out asap.
My symptoms were: extreme water retention (gained over 6 lbs in one week), headache, blurred vision, as well as some trouble breathing. I also had pain close to the top of my rib cage. They did some extra blood work on me and found that my protein/creatinine ratio was almost at 600. (A diagnosis for pre-e is anything over 300, and a normal person is around 100, from what I was told).
These levels shocked them because my blood pressure was not “scarily” high at this point (The highest they had ever seen it was 135/85, however on the day I was diagnosed my blood pressure was only 117/80). Following my diagnosis, I was immediately put on bed rest, transferred away from Shanna to a new provider at the Woman’s Clinic, and told I would have to be induced at the hospital In a few days.
My heart dropped. Did we hear God wrong? Did he change his mind?
Everyone has told me that whatever your birth plan is, you have to be flexible because most likely there would be wrenches thrown in the mix. Was this a sign from God that I was not supposed to have a home birth? Did we hear him wrong? Did he change his mind? Many thoughts raced through my head and many tears were shed.
I was planning for an unmedicated, natural birth. Hearing that I would have to be induced changed everything. Many people did not understand why I was so upset about having to be induced. Heck – people electively choose induction and c-sections nowadays! However, being induced is step 1 into the “cascade of medical interventions” I was trying so desperately to avoid. Inductions force out babies before they are ready & there are so many complications that arise from this. Pitocin contractions are unnatural and infrequent, often resulting in an epidural because the pain is extremely hard to manage, not to mention the constant fetal monitoring restricting you from getting into positions to help manage that pain. Epidurals slow contractions, causing the need for more pitocin. If your baby isn’t engaging at this point, this can very quickly lead to an emergency C-section. These were risks I didn’t want to take. Not to mention the money this would cost. Money we didn’t have.
Your will be done, Lord. If I’m supposed to have this baby at the hospital, that’s what will happen and I will praise you through it all. If I need a C-section, that’s what will happen and I will process the loss of the birth I wanted, while praising your name and being thankful for a healthy child.
But still, even through all this, Corbin and I felt like God was calling us to a home birth. There was a lot of internal processing I was doing at this time. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t putting my child at risk simply because of my own desires. Being a mother is hard, but sometimes you just have to go with your gut and pray it’s the right choice.
I had heard of an “emergency brewers diet” for reversing preeclampsia. Immediately after getting my diagnosis I began this diet. At this point I didn’t know if it would do anything, but I was willing to try whatever. On top of the brewers diet, I used a myriad of oils, herbs, and teas known for lowering blood pressure and supporting kidney and liver function, upped my water and mineral intake an absurd amount, PRAYED like crazy, and essentially anything else I could think that might help. If people are interested, I can go over the details of exactly what I did in a separate post.
If I was going to be induced, it wouldn’t be before I exhausted every other possible option.
I remember asking Shanna on the phone if a home birth would still be possible.
She replied, “Well.. I believe in miracles.”
Two days later, I went to my first appointment at the clinic for blood work. The nurse midwife at the clinic said she would be in touch with me the next day with my results and to schedule my induction.
The next day she called me and was surprised to inform me that my protein/creatinine levels had actually dropped to 450. This drop really surprised her, and was enough for me to convince her to wait on inducing me. The catch was that I would have to come in every two days for more bloodwork and NST‘s. I would also have to monitor my blood pressure at home at least three times a day and try to limit the amount of strain I put on my body.
Long story short – every single visit over the next three weeks my protein creatinine levels kept dropping further and further. I did still have days with high blood pressure readings over 140/90, but it never went on longer than an hour.
At 39 weeks I reconnected with Shanna, and asked her if she would feel comfortable taking me on as a client again seeing that my levels were dropping. We agreed to play it by ear and that I would call her if I went into labor naturally.
The Birth;
Tuesday, June 21st we went to our 11am appointment at the clinic for more testing and fetal monitoring. Over the weekend, I had a few high blood pressure readings and wasn’t feeling the best so we were expecting bad news at this appointment. Sure enough, we were told yet again that we were playing with fire and that we should schedule an induction. Our nurse midwife at the clinic did more blood work on me and told me she would be in touch the following day re: the results and to schedule the induction. By this point, I was 39 weeks and a few days away from my estimated due date. While I was at the clinic, I consented to a cervical check and membrane sweep (I was almost 3cm dilated). The goal at that point was to “naturally” get labor going so I wouldn’t have to be induced using Pitocin.
Then we left.
“We were told, yet again, that we were playing with fire.”
Later that day, around 2PM I started having contractions that felt a bit more intense than the typical Braxton hicks. They were coming every 15-30 min or so but were very manageable and made me excited. At this point, it felt like the really small cramps I would usually get the day before I got my period.
By 4PM they were coming every 5 minutes, lasting about 1 min each. The contractions were still very manageable and subtle at this point so I still wasn’t sure if it was labor. Corbin and I went to town to run some errands, got some sushi and some ice from sonic (I’m obsessed with their ice and wanted it to munch on during my labor in case I was throwing up 😂), then we went home. We ran into Corbins brother, Rylan. He invited us to the drive-in theater and we made a joke that we might be having a baby in the next 24 hrs.
I did the miles circuit 2 times this evening in hopes that it would keep the momentum going and get Axel into the right position.
The contractions continued to come every 5-10 minutes until about 9:30PM, at which point I texted my midwife, Shanna to let her know what was going on. She suggested I get some rest. After showering and jumping into bed, the contractions slowed down to about every 15-30 min.
I was told to ignore the contractions for as long as possible, so that’s exactly what I did.
My last bump picture, taken right before I went to sleep. This photo was in the middle of a contraction.
I was able to sleep off and on from 11PM–2AM, waking up occasionally for a contraction, and then going right back to sleep.
By about 2AM the contractions started coming every 5-7 minutes again and it became harder to sleep.
At 3AM I felt a small ‘pop’ after my contraction and a very small gush of liquid came out. I went to the bathroom to put on a pad, and as I sat on the toilet more clear liquid gushed out of me. This must be my water, I thought.
Shortly after my water broke, contractions intensified, and by 3:15AM they were coming every 2–3 minutes lasting about 1 min 30 sec each. I let this go on for about an hour before I called my midwife and woke my husband.
By now, it was 4:30AM and contractions were coming every 1–2 minutes, lasting about 2 minutes, on average.
Shanna talked Corbin and I through what was happening over the phone. At this point, I asked her how she felt about me birthing at home. She paused to think, and replied, “Ya, let’s do this.” She asked if I wanted her to come over right then but I told her I would call her when I was ready for her to come.
At this point, I asked her how she felt about me birthing at home. She paused to think, and replied, “Let’s do this.”
I labored on the toilet for a bit (dilation station!), then in the shower, then back to the toilet. I was facing backwards on the toilet with a pillow to lay my head and arms on. In the shower, I had a stool on the ground that I was kneeling over, letting the hot water run down my back. The birthing books were right – the hot water felt amazing. I probably could have stayed here forever, but we ran out of hot water haha.
Throughout my pregnancy, I’d often wonder what I’d be like during labor. Would I be one of those angry screamers yelling at her husband in pain? Would I be quiet? Demanding?
Turns out, I go “inward”. I did like having someone there to rub my back every once in a while and offer me water, but for the most part I didn’t want to be talked to and I just wanted to be left alone to do my thing and concentrate. I entered this deep hypnosis-like state where the experience totally overtook my body and it was as though I was one with my contractions. They weren’t happening to me, they were me. It was the strangest experience of my life. It didn’t feel painful like you see in the movies. It felt like pressure. It felt like power. It felt like my body knew exactly what it was doing and as I rhymically moaned and swayed through each contraction, my body became deeper and deeper immersed in the journey. It felt tribal. Raw. Natural. When it got uncomfortable, I leaned into it. I welcomed it with arms wide open because I knew that there was purpose to what I was going through and with each contraction, my baby was closer. My baby and my body were working together, in harmony, to bring him earthside.
“It didn’t feel painful like you see in the movies. It felt like pressure. It felt like power. It felt like my body knew exactly what it was doing and as I rhymically moaned and swayed through each contraction, my body became deeper and deeper immersed in the journey.”
Corbin would pop into the bathroom every once and a while to check on me, but for the most part he was focused on “setting the mood” and keeping everyone updated (turning on my birth playlist, setting up the twinkly lights, getting me my “labouraide” drink I had prepped in the fridge, grabbing my cup of ice chunks, getting the birth tub set up, updating the midwife, ect.) I guess he was listening in the weeks prepping for the birth, because I didn’t have to ask much of him – he knew what to do.
By about 5:30AM I felt like it was probably a good time to ask Shanna to come as I started to experience small pushing urges that I couldn’t hold back.
By 6AM Shanna was at our house. (We live about 30 minutes out of town)
Shanna asked me to come into our bedroom so she could check me. Reluctantly, I picked myself up from the toilet and slowly started to make my way out of the bathroom and towards the room. Our bedroom is literally a couple of steps away from the bathroom but the contractions were coming so fast and the pressure was so strong at this point that all I had time for was to take 2 steps before another one was coming and I’d be moaning and swaying my way through it. It probably took me about 5-10 minutes just to get to the bedroom.
Shanna had a little mat all set up for me on the ground so I leaned over the bed and rested my knees on the mat. The pressure was so strong at this point that I could barely even feel her checking me.
I knew labor lasts long for first time moms so I was expecting her to tell me I was at a 5 and that I still had a ways to go.
“Oh my. Praise the Lord. Mia! You’re at an 8! Oh, I knew you would be good at this!!” Shanna said excitedly. “Corbin!! she’s at an 8!”
“An 8?!?! WHAT! Oh my gosh! Babe! You’re DOING this!” Corbin said excitedly back.
Their excitement and confidence in me instantly energized me and I couldn’t help but smile through the next contraction.
I don’t think I really believed I was in labor until this moment.
I remember sitting on the ground at that moment, riding the wave of another contraction and feeling so relieved. Honestly, I was so proud of myself.
“Wow. I prayed for this. It’s happening. It’s here. I’m doing it.” 💛
From my research (and the birth class we’d taken) I knew 8cm meant I was in the middle of transition, the hardest part of labor. It also meant it was almost time to start pushing and that our baby boy would be here sooner than I thought.
The contractions were coming so quick, lasting long, and giving me very little relief in between.
At this point, I could feel my body wanting to tense up for the contractions, which I knew would only make it worse.
“Unclench your jaw, Mia. Drop your shoulders. Relax. Breathe and let your body open itself up. Visualize your baby moving lower and lower with each wave.”
“Abba, give me strength,” I said softly, swaying and relaxing in the relief between my contractions.
Shanna heard me and immediately started praying over me, giving me words of encouragement and support.
Slowly, I made my way into the living room where the birth tub was set up. My sister in law Bekah had just arrived at our house and was in the living room talking to Corbin. She gave me a hug as I walked into the living room to join them.
The plan was to give birth in the birth tub, but everything was happening so quickly. Once I sat down on the birthing stool beside the tub, it was hard for me to even think about standing up to get into the tub. I ended up staying on the ground and pushing on the birthing stool my midwife brought. If I had one regret, it would probably have been that I didn’t go straight into the tub when I came into the living room.
Corbin sat behind me, supporting me with a heat pad on my back, and my midwife was in front of me encouraging me to follow what my body was telling me. Bekah was sitting on the ground beside the midwife keeping logs and stats.
At each contraction, I pushed him farther and farther. In between the contractions, I rested.
At first, pushing felt good. My body had been wanting to “bare down” for a while now but I had been holding back because I wasn’t fully dilated. Allowing my body to do what it so desperately wanted to, felt so primal. I had somewhere to direct all the pressure into. In the later stages of pushing, however, it started to hurt. I remember telling myself the only way out of that pain was through it, and I was just going to have to suck it up.
Because I had preeclampsia, my risk of placenta abruption was higher. Shanna was doing intermittent fetal checks between my pushing and contractions to make sure Axel was still doing okay.
During my whole labor up until this point, I felt so at peace and was not once worried about Axel or my safety. For some reason, Shanna checking him between the contractions really started to syke me out. It brought me back to the reality that he might not live, just like Jubilee. Shanna was there when Jubilee died, and although she was doing her best to be brave, I could tell she was fearful of a similar outcome.
Shanna checking him between the contractions really started to syke me out. It brought me back to the reality that he might not live, just like Jubilee.
All the sudden, all I cared about was getting this baby out, alive.
I distinctly remember the moment I stopped listening to my body as much. I started pushing harder and longer than my body wanted to because I wanted him out of me, now. I didn’t care about ripping or the pain. All the sudden, all I cared about was getting this baby out, alive.
Most things from this stage of labor are a blur to me. I feel like it was 15 minutes but Corbin said I pushed for about an hour.
I’ll never forget the feeling when Shanna told me to reach down and feel my baby crowning. Touching his head was like nothing I’ve ever experienced and suddenly I had a rush of energy to get to the finish line. It was truly an out of body experience.
A few more pushes after that and she was saying, “Congrats mama, on this next one reach down and grab your baby.”
On June 22, 2022 at 7:34am after a mere 5 hours of labor, Corbin & I welcomed our sweet firstborn into this world in our living room with our Midwife, Shanna, and our sister in law, Bekah.
"There are places in my heart I didn’t even know existed until I laid eyes on him.”
When I grabbed Axel, my jaw could not stay closed. I was floored that this tiny creature came out of me. He was bright pink and didn’t have a lot of vermin on him, which shocked me. He had dark, dark hair and had a major cone head because of the angle he came out. Axel cried shortly after he was born, so I knew he was breathing. He felt so big in my arms, I was surprised I just pushed this out of me.
I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I remember asking over and over again if he was okay or if anything was wrong with him. At that moment, I was so scared of losing him.
Shanna assured me he was okay.
I remember looking at Corbin. He had so much admiration in his eyes as he looked at me and what I had just accomplished. He was beaming.
I remember looking at Bekah. For the first time since Jubilee died, I could see the shimmer back in her eye. She was so happy and excited.
The birth high. Turns out it affects everyone in the room, not just the mother.
In that moment, his birth felt like a victory for us all. And it felt like Jubilee was right there with us, cheering us on.
The placenta came on its own about 5 minutes after he was born, with no effort from me. We waited for it to stop pulsing, and then Corbin cut the cord and we moved into the bedroom so I could have my golden hour breastfeeding Axel in bed.
Once I was done with my golden hour, Shanna weighed him, got his measurements, and did a little examination to make sure he was all good.
Birth stats:
Date - June 22, 2022
Time - 7:34:7am
Weight - 8 lbs exactly
Head - 13 3/4”
Length - 21.5”
Then we prayed together, in thanksgiving and rejoicing over Axel’s life, in mourning and longing over Jubilee’s, and all the feelings in between. 💛
Side notes:
For those who are wondering, yes, I did tear. Really, really badly. Shanna said that she usually sends people to the hospital for 3rd degree tears, but since mine was so straight she felt confident suturing it. Axel came out sideways, which contributed a lot to the tears. Also, I stopped listening to my body. I didn’t give myself time to “stretch” because I was pushing very hard and fast, so I tore. Laying on my bed, getting sutured, is hands down the most painful thing I have ever experienced in my life. I did not shed a single tear or cry out in pain my entire labor, but this part had me in tears and crying out. I was on no pain meds and could feel everything. (Shanna did put some numbing stuff on it, but I’m convinced it didn’t work lol). I was squeezing corbins hand so hard, he had marks on them afterwards. I definitely have PTSD from this part of the experience, which heavily affected me during the postpartum & recovery period. Maybe I’ll get into that in another post. Postpartum is a whole other can of worms.
It’s also important for me to mention that preeclampsia doesn’t always go away with birth, and can sometimes spike in postpartum so I did continue to monitor my blood pressure for the next few days following birth. Lord willing, all was well.
The Name;
Corbin and I were very intentional when deciding upon a name for our sweet boy.
Axel
Meaning: the peace of the father, the father is peace.
The first two years of marriage were extremely hard on Corbin and I. The enemy was doing everything it could to keep us apart in separate countries. It truly felt like we were being tried by fire at every other corner. Neither of us could catch a break. I developed extreme anxiety, and Corbin went into a really bad depression. To be frank – we were becoming hopeless. Trying to put on a brave face and smile through all the questions from our loved ones. It was heartbreaking.
We didn’t understand.
God was so clear throughout our entire relationship with his plan for us.
I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was supposed to be in Texas with Corbin and that that was where God wanted us to start our family. But yet here we were, fighting an uphill battle that just seemed to get bigger and bigger by the day. The state of the world just kept getting worse, and being in separate countries was becoming nearly impossible. I started to think that maybe I had heard God wrong.
Since before getting married Corbin and I had always prayed “Lord, your will and not ours”. But this? This was starting to feel a little too harsh… Why would God allow us to go through this? Wouldn’t he want us to be together? Was this seriously his will? We were forced to spend 21 months apart total since being married in March 2019. The first 2 years of our marriage was 95% long distance with no visits allowed due to border and C-VID travel regulations.
We were forced to spend 21 months apart total since being married in March, 2019. The first 2 years of our marriage was 95% long distance with no visits allowed due to border and C-VID travel regulations.
There were so many nights during those 21 months that I would cry out to God in pain and beg him for comfort from this nightmare. Beg him to hug me when my husband could not. Beg him to cradle me like a child. I would sit on my knees in my room with my hands towards the sky begging God to give me direction and strength because I had none left. I would listen to worship songs alone in my car, crying out in pain to him through every word and barely being able to say the lyrics, because praising him in this season was so hard. I would force myself to sing the same songs over and over again until I could really believe the words that I was saying. There were parts of me that truly thought I might never see my husband again.
“Thy will be done” is a lot harder to sing when you feel abandoned by God.
Every time I would cry out to God though, however pathetic I looked, he would answer.
Sometimes it was blatantly obvious and I would feel his arms around me as I laid in bed or his hand caressing my hair as I cried. Sometimes it was less obvious and a family member or friend would reach out to me and tell me exactly what I needed to hear. I would feel his presence with me while reading, praying, or worshiping. This might sound crazy, but I would physically feel him softly whisper to me that I wasn’t alone and that it was going to be okay. And as soon as he would whisper to me, my heart rate would slow and my whole state of being would relax.
“When I felt anxiety take hold of me, I would start reading scripture or praising him and would feel the weight being lifted and peace being restored.”
“Renew your minds daily” – That verse became my survival guide.
I never realized how powerful God‘s presence could be.
No matter what happened – I clung to the fact that I would always have my God and he would always be there for me. And that became the most peaceful feeling in the world. Nothing in life is certain. Except for God’s love and his word. God became my shelter and my safe place. He was my peace in the midst of the fires we were going through. His word and presence was my refuge amongst the chaos.
Looking back on my husband’s and my time apart, I wonder if it was all for the purpose of learning this invaluable life lesson.
The world is a mess right now. And we’re going to have to rely on God’s love, strength, and protection to get us through it. His word is a refuge from the storms of this world. His love, a shelter from the enemy. His presence, restoring peace to our souls.
Every time I look at our newest little blessing from above, I’m reminded of God's faithfulness during the darkest of hours. Im reminded of the peace he brings to his children. I am reminded that even though the world is full of chaos and evil, God is still our refuge and strength through it all. And he does not forsake or abandon us.
In Conclusion;
Axel Lee Tuttle – your first breath took ours away. I am proud of many things in life, but nothing beats being a mother. There aren’t many things in life that happen to you to completely flip your world upside down, but giving birth was one of those things for me. The power God gives to a woman in labor is unlike anything I have ever experienced and I am honored to have been blessed with such an amazing birth experience.
God knew my heart needed you.
“God’s love is our peace; our safe place of refuge and our shelter.”
In a world filled with so much chaos and evil, you are my daily reminder that God’s love, truth, and light still outshines it all. His love is our peace; our safe place of refuge and our shelter. Every time I look at you, I am reminded of the fathers love, his blessings, and how mighty of a protector he is over his children.
Blessings from ours to yours, 💛
Joy comes in the morning
Finding gratitude in this season of life.
**Imported from my old blog. Post is from Apr 13, 2020.
What a time to be alive!
Feeling like God has been pressing upon my heart something very specific this season that I wanted to share with y'all.
Gratitude.
With so much talk going on about the state of the world and what the future does, or doesn't, look like - I found myself becoming extremely anxious, worried, and distracted. I was beginning to spend more time watching the news, reading articles, and worrying about the impact it would have on my life and the lives of my loves ones, than I was spending in God's presence reading, in prayer, and in worship.
A lot is happening in all of our lives in relation to this COVID-19 virus and the lockdown it's sparked.
For most, the struggle involves finances, as people lose their jobs or fear for the survival of their businesses.
For some, it's caused health worries for them or their loved ones.
For others, major life events such as graduations, weddings, funerals, family reunions, sporting events, and festivals have been postponed - or even cancelled altogether.
And yet, the list goes on.
The impact this has already had on our society and economy as a whole is greater than anything I personally have ever experienced.
Currently, my husband and I are in an international long distance marriage. The chaos has left us helplessly separated by our countries boarders, awaiting the government's next announcement. Things shutting down means our visa application, which was already going to take at least a year, will now take even longer and we are unsure when we will be able to officially begin our lives together, in person. After not seeing each other since December, I had planned a trip to visit him and his family at the end of May, which has now been cancelled as well as all other future travel arrangements.
And so now, here we are - facetiming and texting in our free moments throughout the day as we try to keep spirits high and await God's timing.
It can be hard to thank God for the mountains he allows to be placed, and/or places in our lives.
But it is so important, through those trials more than ever, to have a heart of gratitude and to focus on all the blessings he pours out on your life - both the seen, the unseen, and those yet to come. Praising him through the storms is where true belief is proven. How blessed are we to have this opportunity to prove our love for him and spread our light to the world! How blessed are we to have this faith building obstacle that can bring us closer to him and his word! Make your heart so full of gratitude that fear has no place to reside! Worship him louder in the dark, in the trials, and in the waiting. The situation might feel out of your grasp and the pain it brings might be deep - but I promise you his love is mightier!
With that being said, I will conclude this amateur take on blogging with a couple of things I am grateful for;
For this season of life - as challenging as it may be,
For the mountains that stand in our way and the strength God gives us to overcome,
For the gift of music, praise, and worship,
For God's unending love, his word, and his promises,
For loved ones who keep us going when we feel like giving up,
For the small miracles that happen each day without us noticing,
For the hope that still walks with the hurting,
And for the joy that still comes in the morning.
I encourage you all this next week when you wake in the morning, before picking up your phone, before looking at the news, before working - think of at least five things you're grateful for.
Blessings,