43. Earthside: Ila’s Story
Draw a Permanent Boundary Line:
A Birth Story of Strength, Surrender, and the Guiding Hand of God
October 14, 2025
The morning light carried with it a stirring — that familiar holy anticipation. At 10:22am, word came that Reagan had witnessed the release of her mucus plug, laced with a little blood, and the steady rhythm of waves had begun to shape her day. They were coming close together, five to seven minutes apart, each one calling her into deeper focus and intentional movement.
I called her, my voice steady and calm, as I encouraged her to rest, to nourish herself well, and to lean into the knowing that her body was already doing the work. I reminded her that there was no rush — that sometimes, the holiest thing we can do in early labor is to wait quietly with the Lord.
By early afternoon, it was clear that things were deepening. We decided it would be wise for me to draw nearer, even if not yet step inside her home. I began the two-hour drive toward her, praying as I went.
When I arrived in Lexington, I paused for a simple meal, sensing the need for grounding. Just as I took a few bites, Daniel texted: it was time to come.
And so I went — heart open, spirit ready.
As I crossed the threshold of their home, I whispered under my breath, Nothing but the blood of Jesus. The words became a prayer, a protection, a promise. I drew an invisible line — a permanent boundary of peace around their home — asking the Holy Spirit to dwell richly in every corner.
Evening settled like a soft blanket over the house. The air was thick with the smell of labor, the sacred scent of life in the making. Reagan’s sounds deepened, her breath thick with focus and surrender. She moved with grace — a woman yielding to the divine choreography of birth.
At one point, she rose with determination and said, “I need to sit on the toilet.” A simple, primal act — one of those mysterious, powerful cues the body gives when it’s doing exactly what it was created to do.
We were walking on holy ground.
October 15, 2025
The night carried us into the early morning hours. The atmosphere was hushed and reverent, punctuated only by the sound of her breath and the rhythm of her body’s waves.
Emotions began to surface — the kind that only come when you’ve been laboring long and deep, where the veil between physical and spiritual grows thin. “I can’t take anymore of this,” she said through tears. Yet even as those words broke from her lips, she kept breathing, kept moving, kept trusting.
Reagan embodied surrender. Every shift, every sound, every tear — all of it was worship.
By morning, I felt led to step back, to give space for the quiet work God often does unseen. I went to Lake Huron and sat near the water, breathing prayers into the stillness. I asked God to refresh her spirit, to bring an emotional release, and to move powerfully in her body.
When I returned late in the morning, I sensed a shift — an undercurrent of new energy. Reagan was side-lying, rotating her hips like a slow-turning rotisserie, her body intuitively creating space. Suddenly, her waters released even more fully — a washing over, a sign of movement and change.
Moments later, baby shifted, descending beautifully as fluid poured forth in a steady gush. “I feel her going down deep,” Reagan said, awe in her voice.
It was raw and powerful — the kind of moment that reminds you birth is not something we control; it’s something we are invited to witness.
As day faded into evening, the room pulsed with strength and surrender. The air grew thick and humid; her face flushed with heat as she asked for cool cloths. Her roars grew deeper, echoing through the walls — a sound ancient and holy, the sound of woman meeting God in the valley of transformation.
By now, the hours had stretched into days. The sun set again, and with it came the kind of exhaustion that seeps into the bones. It had been thirty-six hours.
Reagan’s perseverance was unmatched, but her spirit was weary. A deep discussion unfolded — not one of defeat, but of discernment. Together, we prayed and decided to transfer to the hospital for rest, relief, and information.
The drive was quiet, filled with prayer. God was still guiding every step.
At the hospital, rest found her. She was already eight centimeters — proof of her incredible strength and endurance. For a while, she was able to labor peacefully, to gather herself again. But after more hours passed with no further progress, the decision was made for a cesarean birth.
And in that decision, there was holy surrender.
Because birth is not defined by its route but by its redemption.
It is not measured by how it happens but by how a woman walks with God through it.
Reagan’s story is one of perseverance beyond measure.
Of faith that endured the fire.
Of a woman who met God in the deep waters and emerged with peace.
Through it all, He was the lamp unto our feet — guiding, comforting, illuminating each next step just when we needed it.
And though the path curved in ways we hadn’t foreseen, it was never without purpose. For even in the storm, there was stillness.
Even in the uncertainty, there was Presence.
Even in surrender, there was victory.
This birth was not broken — it was beautifully, divinely orchestrated.
God’s hand was upon it all.
Reflections from the Birthkeeper
As I look back on those sacred two days, I am reminded again why I do this work. Not because every birth unfolds perfectly, but because every birth reveals something holy.
To witness a mother walk through the refining fire of labor — to see her wrestle, surrender, and rise again in trust — is to watch the gospel unfold in real time. Birth is not only about bringing forth life, but about meeting the Giver of Life in the process.
Reagan’s journey reaffirmed for me that God is not absent from the hard or the unexpected. He is right there — in the tears, the prayers, the still small moments between contractions.
He is faithful in every outcome.
He is sovereign in every story.
He is the lamp unto our feet, even when the path bends through valleys we didn’t plan to walk.
And in the end, we are always led back to light.
Ila Kate
October 16, 2025 at 12:30pm
8lbs 1oz & 21”
Stay Wild & Free,
-Brandy
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