https://www.wildandfreebirth.com/, https://www.wildandfreebirth.com/link-in-bio, https://birthwildfree--sisterbirth.thri

Wild & Free Birth Wellness, Lansing, MI (2026)

05/02/2026

Birth is not an emergency… But we’ve been taught to treat it like one.

And when you walk into birth carrying that energy, urgency, fear, “what if something goes wrong?”, your body listens.

Because birth isn’t just physical. It’s deeply hormonal.

When fear takes the lead, the body shifts. Stress hormones rise. Muscles tighten. The mind races. And the very system designed to open, release, and bring your baby earthside begins to hesitate.

Fear might make everything feel faster in your mind…
but in the body, it often does the opposite.

It can stall labor.
Interrupt contractions.
Create tension where there was meant to be softness.

Your body was designed to birth through safety.
Through surrender.
Through trust.

This doesn’t mean ignoring wisdom or support.
It means being intentional about the posture you bring into your birth.

Because when you feel safe,
when you are undisturbed,
when you trust the design,

your body knows exactly what to do.

Birth isn’t an emergency.
It’s a process.
A powerful, physiological unfolding.

And it deserves to be approached with reverence, not fear.

05/02/2026

I want a redemptive summer. 🤍

I was asked recently how I feel knowing my pumping-to-donate days are coming to an end… and honestly, I feel at peace.

A year ago, everything looked very different. Blythe was 6 weeks old and had only gained 2oz over her birth weight. She nursed constantly, seemed content… but something wasn’t right.

During pregnancy, I had already decided I didn’t want to pump this time. With Badrick, I pushed my body too far. I created an oversupply so intense I was pumping 65oz a day while exclusively nursing, and it left me completely burnt out and hormonally depleted.

This time, I wanted to just be with my baby. To not pour myself out to the point of emptiness.

But Blythe needed more.

Low muscle tone. Poor oral function. A weak “vacuum.” My supply began to drop… and I knew I had to pivot.

So I went all in.

Every 2 hours, day and night, I nursed her with an SNS while pumping the opposite side. For two months straight.

It was exhausting.
It was frustrating.
It was survival mode.

There were so many long days in the camper… tears, latch struggles, tubing popping out over and over again in a single feed. I was anxious, depleted, stretched thin trying to care for a newborn and still show up for my other five children, our home, and homeschooling.

I didn’t get the peaceful postpartum I had hoped for.

But I fought for our nursing journey.
I fought for her.
And I had to find enough in me to fight for myself too.

Over time, things shifted. She grew. She got stronger. And what started as necessity turned back into something beautiful.

And in the middle of it all… I kept pumping.

Not just for her, but for others.

Over the past 13.5 months, I’ve been able to help nourish 7 other babies, including two sets of twins. Nearly 8,000 ounces donated.

That will never be lost on me. What an honor it has been to serve other mamas in that way. To be trusted with something so sacred.

But now… I feel a shift.

I feel ready to close that chapter.
To lay down the pump.
To just nurse my baby.

To be present.
To breathe.
To enjoy what I fought so hard for.

Because last year held so much stress… even moments of deep frustration and hurt, like the day a pediatrician handled my tiny baby harshly and told me my milk wasn’t enough.

But here we are. Still nursing. Still standing.

So this summer?

I want it to feel different.
Slower.
Softer.
More peaceful.

A redemptive summer.

One where I get to fully enjoy this season with Blythe… without the weight of survival mode.

Just us.
Just nursing.
Just being. 🤍

05/01/2026

God has been teaching me to slow down.

Not just in my schedule…
but in my spirit.

To loosen my grip.
To release the pressure to figure everything out.
To stop striving like it all depends on me.

Because if I’m honest…
so much of my rushing has come from trying to carry things that were never mine to hold.

Outcomes.
Timelines.
Other people’s responses.
The “what ifs” and the “what nexts.”

And gently, patiently, He keeps reminding me…
those were never yours.

Slow down.

Not everything needs to be solved today.
Not everything needs your effort.
Not everything needs your control.

There is a different way to live.

A way that looks like trust.
Like surrender.
Like taking the next step without needing to see the whole path.

Because peace doesn’t come from having everything figured out.
It doesn’t come from finally getting ahead or tying up every loose end.

Peace comes from remembering Who already holds it all.

Who goes before you.
Who sustains you.
Who is not overwhelmed by the things that overwhelm you.

And when I remember that…

I don’t have to carry it all.
I don’t have to rush ahead.

I can walk slower.
Live gentler.
Trust deeper.

Because He’s already there. 🤍

04/30/2026

Birth prepares a woman for motherhood in one specific way: It teaches surrender.

Not the kind of surrender that is passive or powerless…
but the kind that asks you to release control.

To let go of timelines.
Expectations.
The need to have everything planned and predictable.

Because birth doesn’t follow a script.
It unfolds.

And in that unfolding, a woman is invited to soften.
To trust.
To listen instead of force.

To surrender to the rhythm of her body.
To the process she cannot rush.
To the unknown she cannot fully prepare for.

And motherhood… Motherhood asks the very same thing.

It asks you to surrender sleep.
Surrender control.
Surrender the version of life you thought you could plan perfectly.

It asks you to trust your instincts when there is no clear answer.
To respond instead of control.
To love deeply without guarantees.

Birth is not just the arrival of a baby.

It is the first invitation into this kind of surrender.

A refining.
A stretching.
A becoming.

Because in the surrender…
you don’t lose yourself.

You meet a version of yourself that is stronger, softer, and more anchored than you’ve ever known. 🤍

04/29/2026

The biggest homeschool myth I had to unlearn?
…That every day needs to look productive.

That if there isn’t a checklist completed, a lesson finished, or something tangible to point to… then somehow we’re falling behind.

But what I’ve come to see is this:
some of the most meaningful learning doesn’t happen in the “productive” moments.

It happens in the slow, unstructured, in-between spaces.

In the conversations that weren’t planned.
In the questions that turn into rabbit trails.
In the curiosity that can’t be contained to a worksheet.

It happens while baking in the kitchen.
While building something outside.
While working through conflict.
While sitting together reading, wondering, discussing.

It happens when there’s room to think.
Room to explore.
Room to be bored enough to create something new.

Because learning isn’t just information.
It’s connection.
It’s understanding.
It’s the ability to think, question, and engage with the world around them.

And that doesn’t always look neat.
It doesn’t always look measurable.
It doesn’t always look like progress from the outside.

But something is always taking root beneath the surface.

So no… not every day looks productive.
But that doesn’t mean it isn’t meaningful.

Sometimes the slow days are the ones doing the deepest work. 🤍

04/28/2026

He is the vine, we are the branches. 🤍

“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” — John 15:5

I picture a great, living tree…
strong, steady, deeply rooted.

He is the trunk.
The source.
The life running through it all.

And we…
we are the branches.

Each one of us in this family, extending outward, growing, stretching, reaching.

But the life isn’t in the branch itself.
It’s in the connection.

When we stay connected to Him…
we are nourished.
Alive.
Vibrant.

There is growth.
There is fruit.
There is strength even in the stretching.

But the moment we disconnect…

We don’t thrive.
We become fragile.
Dry.
Easily shaken.

Because we were never meant to live apart from the Source.

Everything we need…
peace, wisdom, strength, direction…
it all flows from staying connected to Him.

So the goal isn’t perfection.
It’s connection.

To remain.
To abide.
To stay close.

Because that’s where life is found. 🌿

04/27/2026

It’s been nearly 14 months since our sixth baby was born… and I’ve been reflecting on this journey a lot lately.

I’ve always been an oversupplier, no matter what I do. For a long time I didn’t fully understand it… but over the years, I’ve learned to lean into it and **use it to serve my village**.

What my body makes isn’t just for us.

Nearly 8,000 ounces donated.
7 different babies nourished.
Including two sets of twins. 🤍

Tiny lives.
Late night pumps.
Full freezers.
Milk bags labeled with love.

There’s something so humbling about knowing your body can help sustain not just your own baby… but others too. Especially in those early, tender days when mamas are working so hard to build their own supply or just need a little extra support.

It hasn’t always been easy.
It’s meant extra time.
Extra energy.
Extra intention.

But it has also been one of the most meaningful ways I’ve been able to give.

A quiet kind of service.
A behind-the-scenes offering.
A way to show up for other mothers and their babies when they need it most.

I don’t take it lightly.

Just… deeply, deeply grateful. 🤍

04/17/2026

Drop your favorite birth photo in the comments!

I want to see them all!

04/17/2026

Simple living heals something deep in the nervous system.

Not because it’s aesthetic…
but because it slows us down enough to breathe again.

In a world that constantly pulls us to hurry, to consume, to do more…
choosing simple is almost rebellious.

Less noise.
Less rushing.
Less pressure to keep up.

More presence.
More connection.
More awareness of the life right in front of you.

It looks like slower mornings.
Meals made at home.
Children underfoot instead of constantly in a rush to the next thing.
Time to notice the way the light hits your kitchen or the sound of laughter in another room.

And your body feels it.

Your shoulders drop.
Your breath deepens.
Your mind quiets.

Because your nervous system was never designed to live in constant stimulation and urgency.

It was designed for rhythm.
For rest.
For steady, grounded living.

Simple living doesn’t remove responsibility.
It just removes the excess… the unnecessary weight we were never meant to carry.

And in that space…
you begin to feel like yourself again.

More rooted.
More present.
More alive in your actual life.

And somehow…
that changes everything. 🤍

04/17/2026

Homeschooling isn’t school at home.
It’s life… with intention.

It’s not about recreating a classroom at the kitchen table.
It’s about recognizing that learning is already happening… and choosing to be present in it.

Some days look like books and lessons.
Math at the table.
Reading on the couch.
Writing, practicing, focusing.

And some days look like conversations that go deeper than any worksheet ever could.
Questions that lead to curiosity.
Real life moments that turn into real understanding.

Both are learning.

Because education isn’t confined to a schedule or a curriculum.
It happens in the everyday rhythms of life.

In the kitchen while baking.
Outside exploring.
In the middle of hard questions.
In the quiet moments of discovery.

It looks like following a child’s curiosity instead of constantly redirecting it.
It looks like slowing down enough to notice what they’re drawn to.
It looks like trusting that growth doesn’t always look structured.

Some days feel productive.
Some days feel messy.
Some days feel like nothing “got done.”

But something is always being built.

Connection.
Confidence.
A love for learning.

Because at the end of the day…
this isn’t just about raising educated children.

It’s about raising whole humans.

Humans who know how to think.
Who know how to ask questions.
Who feel safe to learn, grow, and become who they were created to be.

And that kind of education doesn’t fit neatly into a box. 🤍

04/15/2026

Birth doesn’t respond well to pressure.
It responds to safety.

A woman’s body doesn’t open when she feels watched, rushed, or managed…
it opens when she feels secure, supported, and undisturbed.

Because your nervous system is not separate from your birth.
It is central to it.

When you feel safe, your body releases oxytocin…
the hormone that drives contractions, softens the cervix, and guides your baby down.

When you feel fear, pressure, or stress, your body shifts into protection mode.
Adrenaline rises.
Oxytocin is inhibited.
Labor can slow, stall, or become more intense and painful.

This is not your body failing.
This is your body responding exactly as it was designed to.

Just like any mammal, birth requires a sense of safety.
Privacy.
Dim light.
Familiar space.
Trusted people.

This is why environment matters.
This is why who is in the room matters.
This is why how you are spoken to matters.

Because birth is not just physical…
it is hormonal, emotional, and deeply instinctive.

When a woman feels safe enough to soften, to surrender, to go inward…
her body begins to open in the way it was always designed to.

Not forced.
Not managed.
But unfolded.

Protect her peace.
Protect her space.
Protect her nervous system.

Because when a woman feels safe…
birth flows. 🤍

Wild & Free Birth Wellness

05/02/2026

05/02/2026

05/01/2026

04/30/2026

04/29/2026

04/28/2026

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04/15/2026

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