We got pregnant after winning a raffle ticket.

Evan Jr. was conceived due to the hand of God. 

The miracle of pregnancy is beyond what my mind can conceive. 

One sperm and one egg coming together at just the right time, implanting itself in a womb prepared for weeks prior, and somehow growing into a fully-functioning baby without a single human hand directing the show.  Even more fascinating is the forever inhabitation of a soul, even before our human eyes can see.

This is without a doubt...a miracle. 

But this isn’t what this blog post is about. 

It’s actually about the time my husband agreed to us trying to get pregnant, after months of him wanting to wait. 

But before I share the story of how that came about, I think it’s worth rewinding a bit more and sharing how the Lord allowed Evan (my husband) and I to have three years of marriage before having children...all without any conventional forms of birth control. 

When we first got engaged, Evan and I decided pretty early on to refrain from using conventional forms of birth control.

This is the night Evan proposed. Read the details of my engagement story in God, Princeton, & My Pondered Thoughts.

I’d recently been healed, a few months prior, from some pretty severe food allergies and had finally begun gaining weight, healthfully exercising, and eating a diverse array of foods without issue. With that said, I had no desire to have my body experiment with conventional forms of birth control. Evan, thankfully, agreed without question. 

I didn’t adopt this stance due to being well-researched. In fact, I hadn’t done any. I simply didn’t have a good feeling about going this route. So I asked some older married couples what they did, and the idea of family planning seemed appealing. I ordered Taking Charge of Your Fertility and began reading.

I felt pretty confident that if the Lord wanted us pregnant, despite our best efforts, we would get pregnant. And if He didn’t, He would allow for us to not get pregnant.

I was 22 at the time and quite naive. However, I trusted my Heavenly Father.

Evan Sr. was on board. Our close family members were frightened. Our friends thought we were crazy. And the last few words of most conversations with others were often, “Y’all will be pregnant in a few months. Just watch,” uttered with worry and grimace.

I wanted to retort in response, “And if we do...Well, Praise the Lord!” But my inner mommy-boldness hadn’t yet arrived. Instead, I’d lightly chuckle during these conversations and quietly hold Evan’s hand a bit tighter. 

I had no idea what we were doing.

We married soon after and two years flew by. Evan and I experienced several lazy mornings together. A few binge-watches throughout. Several dates in different restaurants and movie theaters.  A few walks alongside Lake Shore Drive overlooking Lake Michigan. And time…we experienced so much free time.

After two years of marriage, I felt a nudge from the Lord to begin discussing our timeline for kids.  I shared this with Evan.

Evan said he’d take it to prayer.

The only issue? Evan’s “taking it to prayer” appeared more of a coy to delay, and months flew by. 

I felt pretty helpless. Evan maintained his unwavering posture of hopefulness. And our discussion was nonexistent. It ended with me thinking that it was time to begin trying to conceive and with Evan sitting unphased saying again and again “Okay...lemme pray on it.”

What could you say in response to that?

Father’s Day of 2017 was when everything changed. 

Evan and I were both getting dressed to go to church when Evan received a text from our Pastor.

“C’mon man-let us wish you a Happy Father’s Day. We waiting on you, bro!”

Evan laughed aloud and sent him a text back.

“Lol in due time brother. Happy Father’s Day to you!”

Our Pastor was discipling Evan at the time, and they had a close relationship.

Due to Evan running behind, I decided to go ahead to church, since it was only five minutes away. While walking up to the church door, I saw Ms. Carolyn, the best church greeter in all of Chicago, giving out raffle tickets to all incoming fathers. The raffle entry afforded fathers the opportunity to win a gift card at the end of service. 

“Aw..how sweet and thoughtful,” I thought to myself. I hugged Ms. Carolyn and took my place in our usual pew that Evan and I loved sitting on. 

Evan and I standing outside our church building during the summer of 2017.

Evan showed up minutes later.

Towards the end of service, our Pastor walked on stage and directed the fathers in the audience to pull out their raffle tickets. Evan began rustling inside his suit jacket for something. Instantly, he pulled out his raffle ticket. 

“Evan….the tickets are for fathers,” I said while looking around, in fear of breaking an unwritten rule. 

“Oh… I didn’t know. I thought they were for all men,” he said, pleasantly unphased.  

“Evan, you can’t participate in the raffle,”  I responded more urgently. 

“Well, let’s just see,” he said with a humorous smirk.

Apparently, the prize was a gift card for a new suit. A temptation Evan seemed to not be able to resist...even in church. 

But what I didn’t know was that Evan was actually talking to God. Perhaps he had been. He told the Lord that if his ticket was selected that he would take that as a sign to begin having children. Yes, a raffle ticket.

I knew none of this. I just knew that my husband was... well, being my husband: doing as he pleased, without fear of judgment. 

Our Pastor announced the first set of numbers from the pulled raffle ticket.

After much silence, our Pastor asked everyone to double-check the numbers on their raffle ticket.

No one claimed it. 

Our Pastor turned the wheel again and pulled out another raffle ticket. 

Still nothing. No one claimed the second set of numbers either. 

At this point, slight frustration ensued as our Pastor again directed church congregants to pull out their raffle tickets and read their numbers more carefully (church service was running behind and pushing into the start of Sunday school).

Our Pastor turned the wheel again and called out the third set of numbers.

Evan stood up, raffle ticket in hand.

Our church had quite a large congregation. But since we frequented the 8 AM service, everyone knew each other. And they all knew that Evan was not yet a father. 

Evan went up to the stage and claimed his prize. Our Pastor laughed. “Well, we know that Evan isn’t a father...yet but we’re going to give him this gift card.” Our much older church members smiled at me upon seeing Evan on stage...as if to say, “I look forward to seeing you two younguns procreating one day.”

 I was the only one who felt embarrassed.  

When Evan finally returned to his seat, he looked like a deer in headlights. He went on to share with me a revelation I never anticipated him receiving.

“That’s it love. It’s confirmed. I’m going to give the gift card away. But it’s confirmed. I just prayed literally to the Lord that if my number was called that I would take that as a sign to begin trying (to have children).” 

“What?” I questioned in shock.

“Yeah. I can’t deny that one. You just witnessed it.”  

Evan gave the gift card to another father and we began trying that day.

I praise the Lord that my husband was not like Gideon. He knew that the Lord had spoken, as strange as it may have seemed, and he didn’t need a further sign. The likelihood of Evan getting to church late, grabbing a ticket unknowingly, and winning a raffle ticket after two people didn’t claim their prize. This was not a coincidence. The Lord had answered. I just never expected the Lord to get my husband’s attention through a raffle ticket.

We conceived a few weeks later and named him Evan Jr. 

Pondered Thought: What are some interesting ways the Lord has gotten your attention in the past?

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They Thought We Were Crazy to Plan a Home Birth...And Then Corona Happened. Here's Our Labor and Delivery Story.

Before Evan (husband) and I tried to conceive for the second time around, we wanted to select our healthcare provider first.

For our firstborn, we were under the care of a midwifery group in Chicago. This midwifery group was affiliated with a hospital and only did in-hospital births. Since we had such a pleasurable experience with our midwives in Chicago for both our prenatal care and labor and delivery, we knew that we wanted a midwife again—especially after reading too many horror stories regarding the subpar treatment of African-American women during labor and delivery. 

But once we moved to Memphis, we realized that our options were more limited. 

9 Weeks Pregnant with Baby Girl.

We couldn’t find a midwifery group affiliated with a reputable hospital near our home. And there aren’t any birthing centers in Memphis. Therefore, we decided, after much prayer and research, to do a home birth with a midwife of choice. By the grace of God, we landed our feet with the best midwife in Memphis. Many thought we were crazy to do this.

But let me tell you.

Our prenatal care was out of this world. I’ve never felt more heard and seen. It felt like this midwife cared for me and my baby with the mindset that she would one day have to stand before God and give an account for her treatment of me and my baby girl. Her reverence and respect for my health, and the health of my child, were unmatched.

In addition to the superb care I received, the level of accessibility to my midwife truly mattered during nights when I was at a loss and needed answers to questions. 

But more than that, when Corona happened, I’m so thankful we had the option to labor at home.

I know the ability to have a home birth is not accessible to everyone, nor do I ONLY advocate for home births. There are circumstances in which a hospital birth is needed and probably better for a person’s psyche, depending on the woman.

But for me, I’m thankful my husband and I chose this path because it made a world of a difference being able to labor at home. I felt at peace. I felt relaxed. And due to Covid-19, the added perks were that laboring at home meant I could still have my doula by my side while laboring; I didn’t have to worry about possibly being exposed to Covid-19 while hospitalized with other patients and being separated from my baby girl if I tested positive (stories like this were coming out around the time of my labor in May).

But enough of that. 

Here’s the story of my labor and delivery. In this post, I use several technical terms because, honestly, other women’s stories helped me in the past to make decisions. And such stories gave me hope. This is why I write in such detail. Enjoy!

I woke up around 11:30 PM to use the restroom. This time, things felt different. While using the restroom, I felt a slight cramp while pooping. I glanced at my phone and saw a missed phone call from my mom that was sent around 10:30 PM. My mom is typically in bed by 9:00 PM. She never calls past 9:30 PM. 

“Hey Mama, I was asleep when you called. Is everything okay?” I texted. 

“Yes. Just calling to check-in,” she texted back immediately. 

Then I knew. I knew exactly why she was calling. 

She was calling to see if I was in labor. And I think I was. 

Around 3:30 AM, I raised myself up off of the bed for the third time that night. What I was feeling weren’t Braxton Hick contractions. These were the beginnings of labor. I woke up my husband and let him know that I was sleeping in the living room because I’d been having contractions for the past hour. He got up,  pumped more air in my birth ball, helped me downstairs, and then went back to sleep. By this second birth, we both understood that labor doesn’t always come quickly and that we would both need our energy for what was to come. 

Thankfully, I got another two hours of restful sleep and then texted my mom around 6:00 AM to come pick up Evan Jr., our two-year-old son. I was still having irregular contractions that were stronger than Braxton Hicks.

I texted my doula and my midwife and let them know that I’d been having contractions. At this point, my mucus plug hadn’t dislodged yet nor had my water broken. 

My midwife came over by 8:30 AM to check my effacement and dilation. I was 3cm dilated. She did a membrane sweep to help kick start things and then she left my husband and me alone to labor peacefully at home. I’ve heard this before, but women often don’t like to be watched while laboring—especially in the beginning stages. This couldn’t have been more true for this labor. 

After my midwife left, Evan finished some last-minute emails before taking off work for the day, and I set off to clean the house. When we both finished, we went outside for a walk around 10:00 AM. At this point, the contractions left me paralyzed in place until they passed. I was definitely in labor. 

This position on my birth ball felt great in between contractions.

Although the contractions were fairly strong, they were also very much irregular. As with my first pregnancy, I thought I was having “prodromal labor”, But what I’d soon find out, I’m simply prone to having irregular contractions during all of my labor (even when in active labor—6cm+ dilated). 

As Evan and I walked outside, anytime I felt a contraction, Evan knew to become completely quiet, to grab my waist from behind, and to squeeze my hips together until the contraction passed. In addition to regular walking, I did some curbside walking too. After 30 minutes, we went back inside. 

At this point, my doula came over and helped Evan set up the birth pool in our bedroom. She coached me through different positions to do while contracting. She brought over a peanut ball and instructed me to lie on my side and to prop my leg over the peanut ball for about 30 min-60 min on each side. And then she showed me the following exercises: forward-leaning inversion, rebozo manteada, and walking up the stairs sideways. Although my doula advised me to do these exercises, she emphasized the need for me to rest as much as possible. I was going to need my energy once my contractions picked up later on...especially during the  “transition.”  At this point, my contractions were definitely more acute than Braxton Hick contractions but they weren’t unbearable. 

Birth pool. For those of you wondering, there is a lining underneath the pool as well.

Once my doula left, Evan Sr. and I began watching a movie while I propped my leg over the peanut ball. Then we ordered some Indian food. While I laid on my side, I still had contractions, but again, they weren’t unbearable. Many times, Evan Sr. didn’t know I was even having them. By the time the movie was over, I got up off the couch to use the restroom and realized that the back of my pants was wet as if I had used the restroom on myself.

My water had officially broken! 

I was told that the peanut ball would help open up my pelvis. I just didn’t expect my water to break so quickly. 

Evan and I eating takeout food and watching a movie. The blue ball is the peanut ball.

Now that my water was broken, I knew that my contractions were definitely about to pick up. (My midwife needed to know the exact time my water had broken, the color of the water, and the smell.) At this point, I became more excited. I never experienced my water breaking on its own with our first child (my midwives ended up breaking it) and so this was exciting for me to experience. 

Sure enough, my contractions began to become more intense, but they were still very much irregular—every 5, 10, or 20 minutes. Around 4:00 PM, my midwife came back over.

Here’s what’s crazy.  The moment my midwife came over, my contractions completely stopped. The reason why was because my midwife brought her assistant over as well. I didn’t realize just how much my body would respond to the presence of a stranger. Due to COVID-19, I never had the opportunity to meet my midwife’s assistant beforehand, as a precautionary measure to limit unnecessary exposure. But here she was. And although the assistant was extremely nice and friendly, my body still responded by my cervix beginning to close back up. My midwife checked me and I was 5.5 cm dilated. Since I still had some ways to go, I thought I’d feel better if my midwife and her assistant left (since my midwife lived 5 min away) and came back later to check me.

Once the midwife and the assistant left, Evan and I watched another movie. I laid down with the peanut ball, and we ordered some more takeout (Moroccan food). My contractions were more intense at this point, and Evan definitely knew whenever I contracted. 

Around 8:30 PM, my midwife and her assistant came back over to check how far along I was. Right before they came over, I was mopping the floor and Evan was putting dishes up. I share this because although my contractions were more intense, things were completely normal in between contractions. Honestly, watching movies and carrying on as normal helped time to go by more quickly.

In the middle of my midwife checking me, I had the most intense contraction while lying on my back (it’s unfortunate that many conventional healthcare providers ask many women to labor like this).  Although I was dilating more (6.5 cm), my effacement remained the same. Apparently, baby girl was coming down but then going back up. If I didn’t do something differently, this was going to be a long labor. In order to help baby girl contract downwards, my midwife used a Boba wrap to wrap around my belly and tied it right underneath my belly as a sort of bind Whenever I contracted, this belly bind helped baby girl go downwards instead of outwards. Once this wrap was tied around my waist, I could tell an immediate difference in my contractions.  My contractions were much more intense. 

After I was checked, the assistant recommended I sit backward on top of a toilet and spread my legs out to help my cervix open up more. I did this for about five contractions and became extremely tired. I could feel the baby pushing downwards. The assistant shared with me that she had two children and that her labors were quite long. For whatever reason, by the assistant sharing her childbirth experience with me made me relax completely. I no longer viewed her as a stranger. Just knowing that this was another mother who had gone through what I was currently going through (and probably a lot more), made me feel connected to her.

Around 9:30 PM, I decided to lay back down with the peanut ball as the contractions were becoming very painful. At one point, I thought to myself, I really need my Doula now! My doula had experienced seven natural births. She understood me and had a motherly way about her that made me trust her completely. I knew my mom would have a difficult time watching me in so much pain and I needed her to take care of Evan Jr. So having my doula there meant everything. I didn’t realize that I had forgotten to tell my doula to come back over at this point (she only lived five minutes away.) But without me realizing, I guess my doula just had a hunch, she came back over on her own volition. With the next contraction, she was already behind me holding me! When I saw her behind me, I just cried because the contractions were hurting pretty badly at this point and I needed her. 

After a few contractions lying down with the peanut ball, I wanted to change rooms. We all headed downstairs, and at this point, I began to feel exhausted. I felt the baby coming down and the contractions were growing more intense. I needed to sleep. 

Here I am lying on my side with my leg propped over the peanut ball.

Apparently, at this point, I’d go into a deep sleep (snoring and everything) and then wake up the moment a contraction came. I was still having irregular contractions, although they were growing more intense. 

After three hours of going in and out of sleep, my body began to do some weird bodily stuff. During a contraction, I’d become hot, and then right after the contraction passed, I’d become very cold. At one point, I began shivering and shaking—indicating a change in hormones. Later I had an episode of throwing up profusely and then felt the urge to poop. It seemed like my body was being taken over. Transition was coming. But the baby didn’t seem to be anywhere in sight (from my perspective.) 

I had no concept of time. Hours and minutes blurred together. My only focus was making it through the next contraction. I could feel myself growing weary. At one point, I turned on the song “Waymaker” and in between contractions, I said aloud repeatedly “I CAN DO THIS.”

But I felt so weak inwardly.

I really needed the Lord.

At 4:00 AM. I was done. I couldn’t take it anymore. I looked at my midwife and rhetorically asked, “How long? How much longer do I have to do this?” 

My midwife, in her melodic voice, continued to reassure me that I was doing an amazing job, that I was so strong, and that this labor was going really well. My doula echoed her same sentiments. I didn’t believe a single word. I needed to know how much longer. My husband, midwife, and doula appeared crazy. At this point, I didn’t know how they could possibly sit here and watch me go through this. Then I began to wonder how my midwife and doula even had natural births...and then chose to do it multiple times. All I knew was that I needed this baby out of me. In response to my midwife and doula’s commentary, I told them with great assertion that I was done laboring in the positions that they were advising me to labor in (which were all for the purposes of opening up my cervix).

I looked at Evan and told him to go get the pool ready. I needed some relief. I hadn’t gotten in the birth pool up until then because my contractions were still so irregular. Evan, my midwife, and my doula were concerned that If I labored in the pool, my body would relax too much and stop contracting all together. This happened during my first labor with Evan Jr.

But I didn’t care. I needed relief.

My midwife approved and told me to do whatever I needed to do in order to rest. With that, Evan and the assistant ran upstairs and began getting the birth pool ready. But after 20 minutes, the pool still wasn't’ ready and I was angry. I got up and told my midwife and doula that I needed to squat for the next contraction. I just needed some sort of relief. 

My midwife told me to do whatever I felt was comfortable. With that, I took two steps to the living room and squatted. I endured three or four contractions while squatting. At one point, I asked my midwife to hold me while I contracted. Her embrace helped so much. These contractions were coming right after each other, which was in complete contrast to the irregular contractions that I was experiencing before.  

After the fourth contraction,  I got on all fours and pushed.

I felt something coming out and heard something. It almost sounded like an egg hatching. At this point, I believe my midwife thought I was pooping. But then I began doing a deep inner groan while pushing.

I heard my midwife and doula pause. I could tell that they had heard this type of groan all too often and knew what it meant, even if I didn’t. This baby was coming out...now!

My midwife yelled for her assistant and for Evan to come downstairs immediately. I heard feet hitting the stairs. But I was in such a transfixed state. I just kept groaning from deep within and pushing. At this point, my doula was facing me eye to eye and telling me to breathe. “You’re almost there sweetheart. Keep breathing. You’re doing great. This baby is coming. Yes, just like that, ” she kept repeating assuredly.  My midwife was behind me. One thing I kept hearing my midwife say was, “Slow and steady. You’re doing great. Slow and steady. Push on the next contraction. Slow and steady.”

Our baby girl’s head was already out. 

What’s interesting is that with this birth, unlike my first in which I had an epidural, the pushing was the best part. It felt so good to push. It felt so natural. I didn’t need advice on how to push, when to push, or what position to get into. I just knew. I knew to groan from deep within. To get on all fours. To push whenever I felt like I was supposed to push. 

Within seconds, the baby glided out. 

Our baby girl cried immediately! My midwife cleared her nose and lungs and then handed Ada to me between my legs. I was still on all fours. I reached for Ada between my legs and then everyone helped me slowly sit down on my bottom.  

After that, everything's a blur. Her umbilical cord was cut. I do remember laying back and delivering my placenta (it happened so quickly).  And I do recall giving Ada back to the midwife so the midwife could do some quick assessments. At this point, I could feel my perineum swelling up but I wasn’t in pain due to not having any tearing, praise the Lord.  I’m so thankful my midwife told me to go slow and steady while pushing. My doula and midwife then helped me to the restroom to pee and to put on a diaper. Afterward, Evan guided me to the couch so I could feed Ada. Ada latched on instantly. Her body felt so warm. Her vernix smelled so sweet. And her beauty captivated us all. I bonded with her instantaneously.

Later, my doula and midwife shared with me that they knew the baby was coming the moment I said, “I can’t do this anymore.” Apparently,  every woman says that right before the baby comes.

And I was no different. I’m so thankful for this experience.

Ada Rose was born on May 27th at 4:20 AM.

Looking back, I felt like there were thousands of angels in my living room ministering to me during this birth. I felt the strength and presence of the Lord so acutely. With our first child, I truly believed that I was strong enough, well-read enough, child-birth educated enough to have a natural pregnancy. The Lord humbled me real quick. With this pregnancy, I knew I couldn’t do this without Him. I actually knew—not some false humility kind of “knew.” I seriously knew I needed the strength of the Lord.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that it’s typically the moment a laboring mother says, “I can’t”, that her baby comes.

To any beautiful mama about to have her baby. Eat your dates, do your squats, get chiropractic care, go through child birth education classes. But you better not forget this…

“ …apart from me you can do nothing.” -Jesus John 15:5

so pray my sister. And ask those around you to do the same.

God, Princeton, & My Pondered Thoughts: A Memoir of My Encounter with God at an Ivy

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