“Are You Sure You Had Prenatal Care?”
I'll never forget the day a nurse looked at me, my baby lying there on EMO, his chest rising and falling with the help of a machine... I froze.
As if my love and preparation for my baby could be measured by the unexpected.
Yes, I had care. I had vitamins, prayers, dreams, and checkups. I had labs and ultrasounds. I had two providers. I still walked the line of both worlds with typical OBGYN care and also my homebirth midwife. But sometimes, no amount of doing "everything right" can prevent the hard. Or prevent things going horribly wrong.
I am normally someone that is quick on my feet, not afraid to stand up for myself, I'll clap back - but in that moment I broke. I walked out of the room and cried. Not just from the comment, but from the weight of guilt, fear, exhaustion and now shame.
In that moment I carried all the guilt.
As if I had somehow failed him.
As if this diagnosis was punishment for choosing to walk a different path.
As if being holistic meant being reckless.
The truth?
I had dual care during my pregnancy. I saw a certified home birth midwife and had back-up care with a standard OB. I had twice the monitoring, twice the labs, and even the ultrasounds that it 90% of the time is caught on.
And still-his congenital diaphragmatic hernia (CDH) was missed.
No one caught it. Not even with "perfect" care on paper. But in that moment, my care wasn't the conversation.
My perceived choices were. That question wasn't about medical protocol. It was about judgment. It was about assumption. It was about the dangerous black-and-white thinking that if you're "crunchy" or "holsitic", you must be careless.
This is what so many of us walk through:
Holding the tension between two worlds that rarely make space for each other.
Balancing natural-minded instincts with real medical needs.
Trying to do what's best for our children in a system that loves to divide instead of understand.
And this is why we need to do better.
Better at asking, not assuming.
Better at supporting, not shaming.
Better at holding space for nuance.
Better at acknowledging that you can deeply value both home birth and hospital care.
That both can fail. And both can save.
Because women deserve care without condemnation.
Mothers deserve to be seen for the whole story, not a sliver of it.
And when I look back on that day-the shame, the silent rage, the sadness-I cling to this verse:
"The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit." - Psalm 34:18
That day, I was crushed. But He was near. And I know now… I was never walking that line alone.
Even now, I think about that comment.
How careless language can leave a scar deeper than intended. How in the middle of survival mode, words can land like arrows. How even people who are supposed to help us can wound us if they aren't careful with their speech.
The only reason I made it through those long NICU days, the surgeries, the monitors, the beeping machines and the terrifying unknowns, was God.
There were moments when all I had was prayer. When faith was the only thread holding me together. And He carried me ... He carried us through.
So this is a reminder, for myself and for all of us:
Be kind with your words.
You never know the storm someone is weathering.
