Esme’s Story

"From the very beginning, my labor unfolded in a way that now feels almost poetic—though at the time, I was determined to treat it as anything but.

My contractions began around 5:30pm. They were mild, inconsistent… honestly, nothing to write home about. It didn’t even register to me that this was it. I moved through the evening as usual—making dinner, getting my son to bed, enjoying a quiet Sunday night with my husband.

By 10pm, the contractions had settled into a rhythm. My husband, sensing what I refused to admit, quietly started timing them while I continued watching The Gilded Age, pausing every so often to breathe through a contraction… very casually, of course. One minute long, every fifteen minutes. Nothing to see here.

The pattern held overnight. Contractions every 10–15 minutes, and somehow I was still able to rest—even sleep in between. By 5am, I was on all fours during each one, breathing deeply, focusing… and still insisting they were “no big deal.”

Eventually, I gave in—not to labor, of course—but to the idea of being productive. I got out of bed to brush my teeth, and within minutes everything shifted. The contractions intensified quickly. What had been spaced at 15 minutes dropped to 2 minutes apart, lasting over a minute each. Suddenly, they demanded my full attention.

And yet, between them? I was completely fine. Chatting with my husband. Making the bed. Casually planning to get my son off to camp.

Naturally.

My husband suggested we call Michelle and our doula. I resisted. Strongly. After a 42-hour labor with my first, I was convinced we had plenty of time. The last thing I wanted was a house full of people too early.

So we compromised: we texted.

And at 6:00am—when contractions are two minutes apart and lasting over a minute and a half—just for the record, that is not when you text your midwife. That is when you call her.

Michelle, thankfully, knew this.

She called immediately after seeing our messages, gently but firmly insisting she come. I still felt it was too soon. She knew better—and arrived within 30 minutes.

The moment she walked into my room, everything changed.

There’s no other way to describe it—she didn’t just enter, she arrived. Calm, grounded, fully present. In the dim light of our bedroom, I felt her beside me—her warmth, her steady energy, her familiar voice. And in that instant, I knew: it was time.

This was what we had been preparing for over the past six months. The trust we had built. The partnership. The quiet confidence she had helped cultivate in me.

There is something incredibly powerful about having someone in your home, in your most vulnerable and transformative moments, who knows you deeply—who you trust completely. Someone who sees you not just as a patient, but as a whole person, a mother, a family.

Just two hours after Michelle arrived, on July 14, 2025, our daughter, Esme Skye Guillory, was born at home—5 pounds, 4 ounces, 18 inches of absolute perfection.

Michelle met me exactly where I was throughout my labor. She listened. She guided without overpowering. She followed my lead, and stepped in with quiet confidence exactly when I needed her. She created the space for me to trust my body—and because of that, my birth was truly mine.

I have never felt as powerful or as strong as I did in the moments after Esme was born—and that feeling has stayed with me.

What surprised me most, though, was what came after.

In the weeks following Esme’s birth, Michelle continued to be a steady, reassuring presence. And when our final postpartum visit came at six weeks, there was an unexpected sense of loss. A quiet void. It felt like closing a chapter we didn’t want to end.

That, more than anything, speaks to the kind of care Michelle provides.

She is not just exceptionally skilled—though she absolutely is. She is deeply invested, intuitive, and profoundly present. Her passion for supporting women and families isn’t just something she does—it’s something you feel in every interaction.

We are endlessly grateful to have had Michelle walk alongside us during this chapter of our lives. Her impact on our family is lasting, and her role in bringing our daughter into the world is something we will carry with us forever."