from Lea Hatleskog – Tordal, in Telemark of Norway

The Birth of Dionn, How I Reclaimed My Power
and Embraced Freedom
by Lea Hatleskog

My Son Dionn was born at home, undisturbed, freely, on the 15th of October 2022, but his birth story doesn’t start that day. It started years before, when I became pregnant for the 1st time in 2018.
Like most of the big decisions I make in life, my maternity journey began in an instant, by following my heart.
For as long as I could remember, I had never seen myself as a mother. Modern life, as I knew it, didn’t feel like the right environment to bring a tiny human into the world. Watching my friends become parents – starting with a painful stay in a hospital, followed by a few weeks at home trying to adjust to life with a +1 before returning to work and juggling childcare, careers, home, and social life, just seemed painful and exhausting…emotionally, physically and financially.

So, at that time, it was an easy “No, thanks.” for me.
I would keep my sanity, time, and money for myself.

On the verge of celebrating my 30th birthday, my big life commitment looked like booking a world trip ticket. My life felt rich and fulfilling until I met the love of my life, Kim.
An encounter that would rock my world—forever and for the better.
Before I knew it, I found myself one morning, crying in the shower on the riverside of the Kampot River in Cambodia, downloading the most powerful message I had ever received:
I wanted a baby.
And like I said before, I make life decisions by following my heart, or in this case, my womb.
A couple of months later, I was pregnant for the first time in my life. And I couldn’t picture myself giving birth in a hospital.
At the time, we lived in the Norwegian countryside, surrounded by a forest of spruces and red pine trees. Peace, silence and fresh air defined our world. I didn’t want to trade that for beeping machines, antiseptic smells, and a rotating staff of strangers for this sacred rite of passage. I wanted my baby to take her first breaths in the same tranquility where she was conceived.
Kim, soon to be my husband, was feeling the same way. We started learning about home birth in Norway, and hired the only team of homebirth midwives available in our area. Our intentions were pure but … naive. When I went past my due date, our midwives, bound by strict medical regulations, could no longer support us. As a first-time mother and with little knowledge about birth, I trusted the doctors who took over and fell into the trap of fear. Long story short, it started with an induction and ended in a painful, non-consensual episiotomy before I could hold our beautiful girl, Edene, to my heart.

A year later, pregnant for the second time, we searched half the country to find home birth midwives available in midsummer. I held onto the hope that this baby would come earlier and that, this time, I would finally have my peaceful home birth.
After every call was denied, I cried for weeks. I grieved that longing but promised myself, and my soul baby, a natural, chemical-free birth.

And guess what ? I made it happen ! My wish came true !

I brought our second daughter, Eliote, to this world by myself, with very little intervention. But still, a part of me was traumatized. The constant interruptions, the harsh white lights, the plastic everywhere, the medical control with cable, belts, machines…and the violence of forcing my placenta out.
It resonated within me for a long time.

Another year passed, and we were blessed with a new seed baby. A third pregnancy but a first loss. Here, I experienced yet another chapter in the failure of the medical system to provide true support.

Fast forward a few months, here we are in January 2022. A new baby had chosen my womb as his nest. As he grew within me, so did my desire to birth him in the comfort and peace of my own home.

I won’t have it any other way.

The universe heard me. I stumbled upon an online course that would change my life: “A Sacred Model of Birth and Midwifery Training” by Dr. Gauri Lowe. For the next year, I immersed myself in an holistic approach to pregnancy and to supporting women to birth in sovereignty, dignity and love as well as safely. The course aligned perfectly in time with my pregnancy, and I learned most of what women should know before embarking on this life-altering journey. I discovered sacred knowledge that Western culture no longer transmits. I connected with wise women. Space was held for me, and I’ve been heard like never before in my life. Through this journey, I learned to listen more deeply to myself, and an unknown path revealed itself to me:

The path of freebirth.

By the middle of my pregnancy, the decision was made. As long as I felt safe in my body and for my baby, I would give birth at home. Kim, my husband, was my first supporter of course, and the one who actually trusted me and this process long before I did myself.
This decision was not taken lightly. I knew a lot of work awaited me, not about the birth itself, no, but the work within myself. Now I had to deconstruct a lifetime of subconscious conditioning. I realized that, up until now, although I had wished for a home birth during my previous pregnancies, I had not yet developed the relentless will for it. I was still relying on others to take responsibility for me and my baby, for our bodies, our health, and the birth’s outcome.
My work was to identify my expectations and my fears; to separate what was true and what was false in my knowledge of birth, and to burn away all that no longer served me. Only then could I fill the newly freed space within me with pure intentions, sacred wisdom, and tangible understanding.
All the practices and lessons I went through during pregnancy—thanks to the online course, the connections and support from other wise women, the freebirth support groups online, and my own personal research—helped me connect to my true essence, to my body, and to my unborn baby in a deep and sacred way.
This sacredness manifested in allowing Nature to reveal its secrets in its own divine timing. We chose to keep our baby’s gender unknown, and I called for his name to be revealed in my dreams.
Around the seventh month, I felt his soul incarnate into his body and received the message that he was coming to me for the second time. My baby was a boy, and he was the same soul that had not attached to my womb before. He offered me his name, and we all accepted it as a family, as it resonated perfectly: Dionn.

Week 40 comes, then 41, and of course, there is no sign of labor. But this time, I am at peace, knowing with certainty that my baby is in charge of choosing his own timing.
Week 42+, baby is heavy, I feel my belly pulling down, and I’m longing to meet him. On Thursday, October 13th, it’s an amazingly beautiful autumn day, clear blue sky, warm temperature, and the forest displaying its best color palette, from bright red to warm yellow. I invite Hubby for a walk—or should I say a trek—the Miaw Walk, as we call it. It’s about 4 km long, going up the mountain in front of our house and down the other side. I’m ready to get this baby moving! I feel great—heavy, but full of energy. At night and the next day, I’m watching for contractions to start, but aside from my usual Braxton Hicks— or Practice Contractions as I like to call them — nothing. I breathe through my impatience and see the positive side of it : my to-do list in the kitchen still isn’t finished.
Saturday, October 15th, another morning waking up, hoping I will go to sleep at night with my baby in my arms. I didn’t know it yet, but my dream was about to finally turn into reality! The day passes quickly. I stay busy through all the “Practice Contractions”, I don’t even pay much attention to them anymore; I’ve lived with them since my 20th week, and finally, I cross off the last task on my long to-do list on the kitchen blackboard. It’s almost time to prepare dinner and some extra postpartum meals for the freezer. Several kilos of fresh fish wait for me in the fridge. It’s around 4:30 PM —yes, we eat early in Norway— my hands, covered in olive oil, pause in midair…
Is this a real contraction??
I don’t want to get too excited, but I secretly hope it is. I decide to keep going with meal prep, thinking I could use a good dinner before starting labor, if tonight is the night. After the whole family is fed, my husband understands the assignment, he cleans the kitchen and takes the kids to our neighbor Ola, who is like a grandpa to them. During this time, I feel the contractions coming and going, not strong, nor consistent, but I know they’re not Practice anymore. I’m over the moon!
It is the first time that I feel labor beginning naturally!
I start to prepare the living room while dancing around to my birth playlist. Fairy lights around the window, a carrying scarf hanging from the door, affirmations in plain sight, a basket of oils and tinctures ready. I have no clue of the time and will not look at the clock, I will not count or track contractions either. Being free of numbers is one of my greatest revenges ! No thoughts of centimeters of dilation, no timing contractions, no eye on the clock. I only focus on my sensations; I let my body guide me.

I’M FREE!

I’m moving, walking around my house, repeating to myself, over and over again, “I’m so happy to be home.” I feel blessed, I feel safe. My contractions are still very easy to manage. I keep moving, making sacred figure-eight movements with my hips, remembering to release any tension in my upper body as well. During Eliote’s birth, I got myself locked in one static position only and the muscle pain was terrible all along, and lasted for days.
I sip my coconut water, take bites of a few energy balls, but I now have to focus on breathing through the contractions. As with my two previous labors, all of them radiate through my back. No belly pain—only in the sacrum, hips, and upper legs—but I’m not surprised anymore. I know the best position for me is to bend slightly over a table or piece of furniture, pulling my hips back, my butt in the air. Meanwhile, Kim checks on me several times from a distance, but for now, I’m still happy to be alone. He brings towels, disposable pads, and an extra mattress for the floor, because I felt our bed would be too soft for me to birth on, and the floor too hard!

Yes—my birth, my home, my perfect setting!
My senses begin to feel overwhelmed. I turn off the music and put away my essential oil blend, I can’t stand the smell anymore. I light a candle and start texting one of my best friends, Cecile, asking her to do the same, but a contraction cuts me off mid-message. The sensations intensify.

I will never pick up my phone again…

My contractions don’t feel regular, and sometimes, I have long breaks between them, which I happily use to go pee! Again, what a pleasure to be home, to take my time in the toilets without an anxious nurse waiting outside the door!

“I’m so happy to be home!”

I let labor take me deeper. I start to hummm and Ommm.

Hubby comes in to put the kids to bed. I have no idea if it’s actually bedtime or later, I remain free from the clock. What a delight! Luckily, our little girls are well-prepared and so smart. They, too, understand the assignment. They leave me in my bubble and, unusually, go to sleep without me by their side, reassured by their Pappa.
Contractions get stronger, so I decide to try out the hacks I have read so much about. I hold on tight to a comb, hoping to distract my brain from the pain with a different sensation. I try this for a few surges, but I’m not convinced. Another contraction arises, so I put my free hand on my clitoris and this time attempt a pleasure distraction. The effect is instant! I burst out laughing! I see myself—naked, bending over my living room sideboard, one hand on my clit, the other clutching a comb—the scene is too hilarious!
I let go of all the hacks and come back to the essential : to what I feel, to what my body knows, letting myself be taken away by the wave. There is no point in distracting the pain, no way to control the power; there is only surrender.

Each wave that starts will end. Each wave brings me closer to my baby.

So I relax my mouth and jaws, breathe out, and open my whole body to them. At this point, I actually grasp the correlation with sexual pleasure. A contraction is like an orgasm. If you attempt to control it—its intensity, the noise you make, when it should start, or even when it should end—it will never be as strong as it could be, and it will lose its efficiency. The brain isn’t welcome in this process.
Here lies the potency of surrendering. Surrendering to the intensity, the power of labor. I’m not in charge anymore, my body is the conductor of this masterpiece, my womb the choreographer of this recital. I can only release control and play along.
Kim is still here, but in the background, offering me space, ready to support me when the time comes. And now, the time has come. I need my husband this instant by my side, or should I say, behind me. I call for him:

“Hands!”

That one word says everything he needs to know. He knows, we’ve been here before. He comes running as the contraction begins to rise. Just like a wave, little by little, the sensations grow stronger. Kim places his hands firmly on my lower back, following my voice as I guide his placement; wrists pressing the center of my sacrum, thumbs pressing, hands pushing down as the wave reaches its peak.
At the climax of each contraction, when the sensation hits its maximum, I know there is only one thing left : liberation! Every wave that rises will always come down. Always.
Kim unlocks his hands, and the pause is welcomed, until the next surge arises again. I may have a few seconds, maybe minutes. They are still irregular, both in length and interval. I catch myself thinking :
“What if this is only prodromal labor?”
But I quickly chase the thought away. I am in full acceptance of the process, no matter what it looks like. Real deal or not, my body is progressing.
Kim stays by my side, my best support, the only person I need, the only one I want.
“Hands!” is repeated over and over. I keep my body gently moving between waves, stiffness is my worst enemy right now!

And the dance continues…

I’m getting tired now, tired of this position, tired of this side of the living room. I try to stretch myself with the scarf hanging on the door, but I don’t find it comfortable, same with holding onto the birth ball. I just need to enjoy this break that seems to last. I lay down on the mattress. Kim watches over me from the couch next to me, patient and silent.
I close my eyes.
Maybe it is prodromal after all… Maybe I won’t be holding my baby tonight…
No matter what happens, sleep is just so appealing right now.But a moment later, a contraction tears through me, forcing me onto all fours. I wasn’t ready for it! It’s painful, so painful !
NOW, I NEED TO STAND. NOW!
After this one harsh surge, I feel my body opening. I’m gripping the edge of the bed, squatting over the mattress on the floor, and I scream in a deep, raw voice:
“He’s coming down!”
I’m ecstatic! It’s happening!
Pain turns to pleasure, but the sensation is unlike anything else. After the rapidity of the waves rising and crashing within a minute or so, now, time slows down and feels like slow motion. I feel my baby’s head engaging within my hips, entering my vagina, and slowly— oooh, so slowly—making his way down.

I am my womb.
I am my birth canal.
There is nothing else.
The rest of me disappears.

I feel split open in length from head to toe. The contractions keep coming, but, how delicious they feel! My body stretches up instinctively, my head tilting toward the sky, and I roar a primal, beastly cry, so deep and raw, so loud!
My mind is gone, but I see within, I’m fully aware of what’s happening inside me, I accompany him through his descent. His head slowly moves down… stops… then moves back up again.

Down. Up.
Down. Up.

For a few more moments.
And I am so grateful for these precious minutes, knowing this is all part of the perfect design of birth, his body finding its way while protecting mine.
I reach down, and once more, I’m overcome by a wave of gratitude for performing such a natural, but yet, so intimate gesture, unobserved, unbothered. I feel the top of his head, it is so warm.

But here comes the fire !

I’m now squatting over the mattress. My skin stretches and stretches again, I roar and with one natural push, his whole head is born. I touch his face, and feel an ear, a nose. I’m seeing him for the first time with my hand. As I caress his cheek, I feel him rotate.
I focus on breathing, my brain is back on track, and in a strike of a second, the fear of shoulder dystocia arises, but I brush it away :

“All is perfect now, and all as it should be”.

I am waiting for the next contraction.
He is almost here.
Once again, time slows down.
Did it stop?
No.
I feel the intensity rising up once more, and for the first time in this labor, I intentionally start to push with my whole being. I go with the flow of the wave, raising my energy from zero to full power in seconds.

I feel his whole body being ejected— I catch him!
He’s here. I’ve got you, my baby!

“He is so slippery!” is all I can say! Kim is half-crying, half-laughing, repeating, “You did it! You did it!”. I bring him to my chest and rub him gently. His face is so pink, he is so perfect. Finally, he opens his mouth and lets out a long cry.
Dear soul, welcome to the other side. We did it. I take a sneak peek—a boy! I already knew it, but now it is official.
Dionn, my son, you are home. You are safe.
We now return to time 10:10 p.m. Not even four hours of labor? I’m shocked! So much has happened in this short window, the sensations of a lifetime!
I realize I’ve been standing for a while, thanks to the adrenaline rushing through my veins. I sit down on the sofa, uncomfortably, the placenta still inside me, closed to my cervix. After a long moment of loving words and admiration, I feel the need to close this ceremony. I try to put Dionn to my breast, but he isn’t interested. He has fallen asleep, perfectly content. An hour has now passed. The cord is white. We tie it with a crochet link, for the beauty of it, and Kim cuts the cord. Now, for the first time, we are two. You and me. I squat, cough a little, and a gentle pull on the cord does the trick. The placenta lands beautifully and fully into the bowl ready to catch it.
What a relief. And at the same time, what a void.
I feel so empty physically, yet so full emotionally… another paradox of childbirth.

Kim is enjoying his one-on-one moment with his first son. I watch them bond in adoration. I feel so alive. So alert. I could climb a mountain, cross an ocean, or run a marathon! Instead, I decide to take a shower.
Later on, still guided by instinct, I cut some pieces of the placenta and make myself a red fruit smoothie—to go with the beef lasagna I’ve been longing for. Funny how I didn’t plan this, but just felt called to do it.
Edene and Eliote have been sound asleep all along the birth, even through my loudest moments, but excitement must carry further than noise, as they are now awake and up, meeting their baby brother.
It’s now almost 2 a.m. and many need to sleep. The girls find their way back to bed. Kim falls asleep in seconds. Dionn has still not woken up—full disclosure, he will sleep for almost 24 hours straight! —and has found his place in our bed.
And here I am. Wide awake.
Reliving this extraordinary, yet simple, life experience again and again in my head. I want to scream my happiness and pride from the rooftops, but it’s definitely not the time for phone calls. So I just lay in bed, feeling all the love I have for my children, for my husband who has supported and believed in me unconditionally, forever.
He is my person. My rock. I am so proud and grateful to have him by my side for this life-altering experience.
And now, I admire this tiny human, made and born by myself.
In awe of how this sacred rite of passage can be the most extraordinary accomplishment of my life, and yet, the most natural.