Keiarna’s birth story
On July 20, 2024, we welcomed our third baby, Ambrose Lua, into the world. He arrived at 41 weeks, on a summer night in Portugal, during a full moon. It was my second home birth, and by far my fastest labor yet.
The days leading up to his birth were a slow build. I had three nights of prodromal labor—those teasing, stop-start contractions that would ramp up in the evenings and disappear by morning. It was frustrating not knowing if things were actually beginning or if I just needed to sleep it off. By the afternoon of the fourth day, something in me shifted. I had a quiet hunch that this might finally be the real thing. After spending most of the past few days close to home, I decided to head out for a walk through our local village Ericeira with my husband. I stopped for a coffee and joked about the possibility of having a baby in a public space since the contractions were starting to come with more presence.
By 10 p.m., I was cautiously admitting to myself that I was probably in labor. I didn’t want to get too ahead of myself—after all, it hadn’t exactly been a straightforward lead-up—but there was something different this time. By 11 p.m., both our doula and midwife had arrived. My husband and I stayed with the doula in our bedroom, doing gentle, intuitive movements to help open up my pelvis and encourage the baby to move down. We used the yoga ball, some hip pressure, a bit of massage. The midwives set up the birth pool while we stayed active and mobile. It was calm, familiar, and honestly kind of lovely.
Then, right around midnight, everything changed. The intensity came on fast and strong—it caught me off guard. My sounds started to change and I was observed my body and breath with curiosity. I got into the pool, and the warm water was instant relief. I only laboured in the water for about 20 to 30 minutes. I never actually pushed; my body just took over. It was all instinct, all surrender. He was born at 12:51am powerfully, in a space that felt completely my own.
We named him Ambrose Lua—Lua means “moon” in Portuguese, and with the full moon shining bright the night he arrived, it just felt right. He wasn’t a planned pregnancy, but I felt from the beginning that he was meant to be here. There’s something grounded and knowing about his energy already. I’m totally obsessed with him.
This was my third birth. My first, in a hospital in Australia, left me feeling disempowered. It was clinical and impersonal—something that happened to me, not with me. When I became pregnant again, I chose a home birth, also in Australia. That second experience was so healing—it gave me confidence, reminded me that birth could feel supportive, even empowering. So even though we’re now in a new country, home birth felt like the natural choice again. It wasn’t a big decision—it just made sense for me and my husband. This is what birth looks like for us now.
By 3am all of our postpartum and baby health checks where complete and we were tucked into bed, ready for our two year old to eventually make his way into the sheets as he usually does in the early mornings. In that moment, he was here. I sat in bed holding him, surrounded by quiet, and felt such a deep sense of peace. Not just because everything went smoothly, but because I trusted myself. That’s what home birth gave me: a sense of ownership over my experience. It reminded me that birth doesn’t have to be something we brace ourselves for. With the right support, it can be something we move through, with the confidence that comes from creating a space where you feel safe enough to surrender. That’s exactly what we did—and I’ll never forget how powerful that felt.
Pictures taken by Ana Carvalho.
