Tumas’ Birth Story
An honest homebirth story of welcoming my 2nd baby
Greta Nakliudaite-Perez
6/30/20256 min read
If you're more into listening than reading, you can find an audio recording of me reading this in my Substack. The subscription is free to listen -> Tumas' Birth Story (with AUDIO)
On the evening of the 3rd of April, I kept feeling waves - rhythmic, every few minutes, but just as gentle as they had been for the past few weeks.
The day was… all kinds of things.
I woke up early - by six I was already out of bed, thinking I’d just have a quick snack and go back to sleep. In the kitchen, I ran into Ka, already awake. We started talking, and without noticing, two hours passed while we chatted and snacked.
We went for a walk.
I shared a thought with her: if she was meant to be at the birth, the baby would’ve been born last night. But he wasn’t.
I think deep down I always knew… This life wanted to be welcomed only by us - David, Pranas, and me.
After the walk, we had breakfast. David left for work, and Ka returned to California. It was just Pranas and me for the day.
Over that long, long day, we both experienced the full spectrum of emotions: from intense anger to complete peace and calm.
At eight in the evening, Mo brought flowers from her garden, and I suddenly realized I needed a birth altar. In that same moment, I felt: I’ll be giving birth in the living room. But I want more privacy - and I still hadn’t ordered new curtains.
In a few minutes, I hung velvet fiery curtains from Pranas’ room. I arranged the flowers and, with Pranas’ help, built the birth altar. Only what felt meaningful in that exact moment made it onto the altar: a photo from my first birth, flowers, candles, crystals, palo santo, sage, and chocolate. That was it. If the baby decided it was time - we were ready.
Getting ready for bed, Pranas said to me with confidence: “Mama, I think you’re going to give birth tonight.”
He had sensed and known so much even before the pregnancy and throughout it.
“You’re probably right,” I thought. We fell asleep peacefully.
A couple of hours later I woke up. David, just back from work, was working out in the living room. We greeted each other, started chatting. Suddenly I felt something trickling down my leg. Probably amniotic fluid - but just a little. I tried to go back to bed and rest, but I couldn’t fall asleep again, so we kept snacking, talking.
The waves were still gentle, but the pauses between them were getting shorter. I didn’t want this to drag on for days. I wanted to be holding my baby by morning - the way I had envisioned with my eyes closed so many times.
I knew oxytocin would help. Real oxytocin!
“David, I need intimacy,” I asked.
Sure enough, he didn’t resist - and intimacy truly helped. The contractions began to strengthen, intensify, lengthen.
What gets the baby in, gets the baby out.
I barely had a moment to catch a thought that I should really try to rest - I’ll need more energy - when suddenly, around 3 a.m., the waters burst with force, like an explosion.
There was not a shred of doubt left: we’re meeting today. The waves kept intensifying, the waters flowing...
I began settling in by the altar. Lit the candles. David brought the mattress. Between waves, I journaled about the last few hours leading up to that moment.
I decided to get in the shower. I washed my hair, not skipping a single step of this ritual.
“Now - I wet my hair. Deep breath in… out… After this wave I’ll apply the shampoo. Breathe in… out… Next wave - I’ll rinse. Mmhmm. Another wave rolls through… Time for the hair mask. I’ll leave it in while breathing through two more waves. Inhale… exhale… Stepping out of the shower.”
These little tasks helped me move forward.
Out of the shower, I tried different positions: on the toilet, on the ball, on the mattress. Swaying, still. On all fours, on my side, on my back…
With every wave, I found a new position. With every contraction, one less to go - the baby getting closer. I saw some bloody show: yes, this was moving fast.
David was by my side. He gave me everything I needed: water, dates with peanut butter, massage, calm, and trust.
I could feel the baby descending. I reached inside with my fingers - just a couple centimeters in, I could feel his head. I was absolutely sure: everything is okay, and we’ll be meeting very soon.
That little hairy head inside gave me strength, made the intense waves a bit easier to bear. Labor was flowing so smoothly.
I felt my body beginning to push, and suddenly - pause. I knew this happens right before the baby emerges. I let myself rest. For a moment, I almost fell asleep.
Another wave - and another pause. With the next one, I felt his head slowly emerging.
It burned, but I knew - it would pass. I wanted to push. I didn’t. I breathed, let my body do it on its own.
One more wave… and another… and the baby slipped out onto the soft mattress.
I pulled him close, slippery all over. In my mind, I ran through my newborn resuscitation training: “The first few breaths aren’t just for air - they help clear fluid from the baby’s airways, and then breathing begins…” I watched it all happen live.
The baby looked at me quietly for a few seconds. Even though it was dark, I could see his skin had a perfect color. Gently, with my mouth, I cleared a bit of mucus to help him, and he let out a beautiful newborn cry - strong and sweet.
Aaaah, what a good feeling.
I heard Pranas waking up.
I looked at the baby:
“It’s a guuuuy, we have another guy!!” I shouted - or maybe sang it out, my voice trembling from the hormonal rush.
I felt that warm, slippery little body. Heard David’s joy. Saw Pranas rubbing his eyes with his fists in disbelief.
Of course it was a boy. Pranas had been sure of it the whole pregnancy. I had dreamt of a boy four times. And yet, I still didn’t fully believe it until now…
Just moments later, I felt something between my legs - the placenta was already making its way out. Pranas grabbed the phone to film it. He made it in time. I gently supported the cord and helped the placenta out.
We waited patiently - maybe five, maybe fifteen minutes - until the baby found the breast and began to nurse. He actively “crawled” on my belly, on my chest, and finally latched on firmly.
At the same time, we all curiously examined the placenta. When the cord was completely white, David wrapped it with cotton thread, tied it, and cut it.
Simple and magical.
Tumas is here.
*
Just as I sensed - I labored for less than six hours.
Just as I sensed - Tumas came at 38 weeks, full-term and perfectly healthy.
Just as I sensed - his umbilical cord was twice as long as Pranas’.
I trusted that if we were meant to receive this baby in the intimacy of our family, without other helping hands - that’s how it would unfold.
And that’s exactly how it unfolded.
I understood deeply that every person’s presence - whether in the birth or nearby - affects the entire process.
With David, I felt more at ease than I ever could with anyone else.
He’s already seen me in every way.
It was easy to be wild around him. To make primal sounds, to move the way my body wanted…
Even if I didn’t look like a modern educated woman, but more like a cave-dwelling creature.
Half a word was enough for me to murmur what I needed - sometimes he knew even before I said anything.
While Tumas nursed for the first time, David filmed me in awe and remarked:
“Wow, you’re such a babe, Greta!”
I still laugh every time I watch that video.
I truly believe our son chose this journey himself, and chose the parents who would walk it with him.
How beautiful, for a tiny human to arrive straight into the arms of the people who love him most.
Tumas, thank you for choosing this path.
We are truly blessed.
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