The doorknob turned slowly and I heard the creak of the screen door cracking open. Can I come in? my best friend whispered quietly. It was just after 6am and everyone was still sleeping–except my two closest friends who had crept out of their houses in the early morning hours to be with me while I labored.

This was new for me.

New because I moved or lacked any sort of roots during every single one of my previous pregnancies. With my oldest, I moved in with a family from our church at 38 weeks pregnant after my husband left for four months of military training. With my second, we lived in a transient beach community with only one vehicle so I couldn’t get out of the house and build relationships. With my third, we moved from Colorado to Virginia halfway through my pregnancy. With the twins, we again moved from Colorado to Ohio halfway through my pregnancy.

In all of these places, in all of these pregnancies, we had people who were dear to us, relationships that we cared about deeply. But they were new relationships, families who we often hadn’t known for more than a few months. The roots were growing but they were not established, and often by the time we felt like we were really getting somewhere building a community it was time for us to go again.

On top of that, during all of these pregnancies my husband was coming and going, or preparing to go. He deployed five months after our third was born and two months after the twins arrived.

It left me often feeling alone to do it all.

When we learned about baby number six, my husband was thrilled he wouldn’t have to leave, he wouldn’t miss anything.

I was thrilled we lived in a place where we had finally put down roots.

The reason this post is coming before Arabelle’s birth story is that our story wouldn’t have been what it was without our village. Coworkers, church family, neighbors, school family, blood family rallying around us to care for us.

Our community.

Baby showers are fun and all, but have you ever had a nesting party with your best friends where they help scrub and organize your freezer, polish your glass bubble chandelier, and go wild with their vacuum cleaner that can only be described as the Rolls Royce of all floor cleaners?

Everyone loves baby showers, but not everyone will love you enough to offer to scrub your neglected shower instead of hosting said baby shower because they know what you need most of all is elbow grease.

Not everyone will consider all the details of your postpartum recovery and make you individual adrenal cocktail shots (lemon juice for vitamin C, maple syrup for electrolytes, salt for minerals, add to coconut water) to keep you hydrated while breastfeeding, or fill your freezer with muffins for middle of the night snacking. Not everyone will be willing to spend their afternoon hanging out with all of your kids, plus their own, while they make chicken noodle soup so your dinner is covered. Not everyone will pick your kids up from school and take them to their house to wear them out by chasing their chickens in the backyard.

But your village will.

Our village has stepped up for us in ways that I would have never dreamed about in prior pregnancies. Absolutely game changing generosity–we’ll take your kids until bedtime! We’ll clean your kitchen for you! We’re coming by in an hour to drop off your favorite comfort food! We live far away so we’ll hire a housekeeper to help you postpartum!

Yes, having a baby with a village is different because of how they step up to help, but more than that having a baby with a village is different because of the friendships.

I’ve never wanted anyone except Richard with me while giving birth, so I was surprised when, at community group a week before Arabelle’s birth, I found myself joking with my best friend about coming over to drink tea at 3am while I was in labor. She very kindly asked if I meant it and I knew immediately that I did. Our other best friend was already coming to help care for the older kids, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I wanted them both to be there. Yes, we needed help with the older kids, but I just wanted them with me. A third sweet friend has doula experience and asked if I wanted her involvement. Yes, absolutely.

On Saturday morning just after 6am as these friends laughed with me through the early stages of active labor and the air filled with anticipation and excitement, I felt overwhelmed with peace from having them there.

I remember kneeling in the bathroom minutes before Arabelle was born. Christmas lights illuminated the faces of the five older children watching. One friend sat with the kids, one friend provided much needed counter pressure and encouragement, and one friend stood on the toilet taking a video (hah).

There’s this concept not exclusive to birth but often referenced within it–holding space. It’s being fully present with someone, just allowing them to be wherever they are. You’re not trying to fix or solve, you’re just there with them. That’s what these friends did for me. It’s one way my village showed up.

Then, of course, there’s my lovely midwife Emily. I waited too long to call her and then baby girl showed up in a flash so she arrived about 20 minutes after the birth. Emily is absolutely part of my village, and I am so grateful for the expertise and care she’s given me after accidentally freebirthing three of my babies.

I wish I could name all of my village, one by one.

Coworkers from school who have become special friends. My kids’ teachers, my egg guy at church, the kind older lady who works behind the bakery counter at Dorothy Lane Market. Friends from school, friends from church, our community group, our next door neighbors, family near and family far–I can’t name everyone, and if I tried, there’s so many of you I know I would forget someone.

Having a baby is different with a village.

I don’t feel sad that we somewhat lacked this with our five prior kids. We have always been loved and supported by the people around us, in whatever capacity they were able to love and support us in. We were just new, and we didn’t have the roots we do today. It built the bond between my husband and myself, it made us stronger as a family, and it fostered independence.

This pregnancy, this birth, this postpartum period has been redemptive.

After a lifetime of moving, of changes, of goodbyes and see you laters, our roots have grown deep here in Ohio. On this 2 acre plot of land, surrounded by woods and farmland and homesteads. Across the street from our church and school, down the road from our favorite orchard, the park, a nature preserve.

God knew we needed to be here–we needed to be here for a million reasons. Our village is just one of them, helping us weave this beautiful story of patience and faithful prayer and meaningful connections.

Having a baby is different with a village.

To all the people near and far who have loved our family over the last nine months, and continue to love us as we learn to juggle half a dozen children, thank you. Thank you for sharing your time, your resources, your food, your energy with us. I hope we can be that village to you when you need us.

You all made this different in all the best ways.

Thank you, village.