How One Question Turned Into the Adaptive Birth Card Deck
- Cheyenne Williamson
- Jul 9
- 4 min read
If you’ve seen The Adaptive Birth Card Deck, you might assume it came from years of planning. It didn’t.
The entire idea can be traced back to one question during a positioning workshop I taught for Bebo Mia less than a year ago. Looking back now, the deck makes so much sense that it’s hard to believe it didn’t already exist.
We were talking through different labor positions for different bodies the way I always do—why they work, what they’re trying to accomplish, and how to choose one based on what the birthing person needs in that moment. Then someone asked a simple question:
“I have a client with hip bursitis. What would you suggest?”
I answered the question as best I could, but it stayed with me long after the workshop ended.
After the workshop, my brain started doing what it always does.
If hip bursitis changes how someone experiences movement in labor, what about Ehlers-Danlos syndrome? What about scoliosis? POTS? Chronic pelvic pain? Blood pressure disorders? Arthritis? Limited mobility? A spinal fusion? A history of sexual trauma? An old knee injury that still flares up years later?
The list just kept growing.
I realized that while there was information available about many of these conditions, it was scattered across physical therapy resources, medical journals, disability advocacy organizations, anatomy textbooks, research papers, and lived experiences. There wasn’t one practical resource that asked, “How might this influence labor positioning?” or “What adaptations should we consider?”
That question became impossible for me to ignore.
By February, I finally stopped thinking about making something and started making it.
I opened a blank document and began creating what would eventually become The Adaptive Birth Card Deck. At the time, I thought I was creating a fairly straightforward reference. I laugh at that now because every condition led me down another rabbit hole. Every article referenced another study. Every answer uncovered three more questions I hadn’t thought to ask.
The project grew faster than I ever expected, but so did my understanding of what I was really creating.
One of the most unexpected parts of this journey was the people I met along the way.
As I shared bits and pieces of the project, people began reaching out to me. They shared their experiences living with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, chronic pain, mobility limitations, neurological conditions, blood pressure disorders, pelvic injuries, trauma histories, connective tissue disorders, and countless other experiences that shaped the way they approached pregnancy and birth.
Those conversations became just as important as the research itself.
So many people trusted me with deeply personal stories about their bodies, their births, and the moments they felt seen, or overlooked, by the healthcare system. They answered questions I never would have known to ask because I simply haven’t lived in their bodies.
That generosity changed this deck.
Some cards became more nuanced because of those conversations. Some considerations were added because someone said, “I wish someone had thought about this when I was in labor.” Other times, it simply changed the language I used or reminded me that there is rarely one right answer.
One of the biggest lessons I learned is that adaptation isn’t about finding the perfect position.
It’s about understanding the person in front of you.
The goal isn’t to memorize 200 cards or know exactly what to recommend for every diagnosis. The goal is to become more curious. To pause before suggesting a position and think, “What does this person’s body need today? What experiences are they bringing into this room? What limitations, strengths, fears, or preferences might influence how this position feels?”
Birth has never been one-size-fits-all.
Our education shouldn’t be either.
That’s ultimately what The Adaptive Birth Card Deck became. Not a book of rules, but a tool for asking better questions and approaching every labor with a little more curiosity, flexibility, and empathy.
Looking back, it’s kind of funny that all of this started with a question about hip bursitis during a workshop.
One thoughtful question sparked months of research, hundreds of hours of writing and designing, conversations with incredible people around the world, and a resource that I hope helps birth workers feel more prepared to support clients whose stories don’t fit neatly into a textbook.
I’m incredibly proud of the deck itself, but I’m even more grateful for the community that helped shape it. Every conversation reminded me that every body is different, every birth is different, and our care should reflect that.
The deck is organized by color and kind of condition with handy, little tab dividers! If you see something that reminds you of your own experience, or if there’s a condition or consideration you’d love to see explored in the future, I would genuinely love to hear from you. This deck exists because people were willing to share their stories, and I hope it continues to grow the same way.
If you want to grab your own deck, check out the link below!
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