"Let the wife make the husband glad to come home,
and let him make her sorry to see him leave."

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Grace. Joy. Thanksgiving.
4 August 2011. 12:35 am. I awake, like every very pregnant mother, to empty my golf ball-sized bladder. Again. It does't help retention that there's a watermelon-sized fetus diving headfirst onto it. Impossible to drink anything and sleep. I need both.

40 weeks, 3 days. I'm enormous, and I don't just feel that way. Originally 5' 2" and 120 lbs. I sigh. I surpassed my husband 30 lbs ago. How does someone as little as me get so huge? I can't just measure normal either. No, my uterus has to be a a grand 43 cm instead. I look like the letter "B" with an over-drawn lower hump. I crawl back into bed thinking, God thought of everything. Women need to experience month #9 so that they'd be willing to go through anything, anything to get that baby out. If it wasn't for this body pillow... I drift.

Suddenly, I leap out of bed, legs dripping. I race back to the bathroom. It's still coming fast. What in the world! I just peed! I look at my belly and think, (as if the pool of amniotic fluid on the floor wasn't proof enough,) Right. I tested positive... I'm going to have a baby... First contraction, long and strong. Very strong. It crushes me. I give, and I wait.

Back to the bedroom. My husband and his comatose sleep. I shake him.

"Jonathan! I think my water just broke."

"Mmmm." No other response. I knew if he was really awake he would care a bit more than that. I'll call Nicole after then next contraction.

Nicole. My midwife of 12 hours. No one anticipated our abrupt move from Medina to Shreve when I first started seeing Pam. It would place us 2 hours from her. I didn't want to talk about the possibility of switching midwives full-term. It was too much stress when I had to deal with moving too. I was forced to consider it since Pam didn't feel comfortable being so far away in case I were to 'go' really fast. Good call. We moved on July 30th. Monday, August 1st, was my due date. The move was done and I felt okay with meeting another midwife. I called Pam to talk about it with her. Again. She expressed her sorrow in handing me over to the care of another, but really felt it was best. I got Nicole's information. I called her twice, no answer. I left a message after the second try, encouraged by the "God bless you" at the end of her voice mail. She called back. She was at another birth. We set up our meeting for Wednesday. I remember her prayer as she held my hand, "Thank you Jesus for Chloe and this baby... show me how to care for her, and help me to perform to the best of my abilities..."

I phone Nicole... She confirms my hopes. I want to see if I can sleep some more. I'll call again when I want her to come. The conversation was short, I can't talk much longer than two minutes at a time. The contractions are coming hard and fast. I text my sister and ask to get mother up. They need to come. I try to wake my husband again with no success. I'm not desperate enough.

1:15 am. Sleep is impossible until this baby is out. I tell Nicole she better come. Her voice was so calm and reassuring. She was getting things together and leaving momentarily. Okay. It's time for Jonathan to wake up. The sharp reality of the information I give cuts through his slumber and before I know it, he's on the phone calling off work. "Do you want me to call my mom?" Ah. A question. I'm in labor and I have no idea how to make a simple decision. "She's the closest one..."

2 am. The way my baby is letting me know it's on it's way is almost too much for me to handle. There was no easing into it. I wander around like a woman crazed with pain. The hot shower on my back is heavenly, but the water runs out and I am in hell again. I need my coach to help me breathe and relax. He does, and I feel better. He is so good for me. My mother-in-law arrives and takes over. My husband is free to just hold me forever. Just hold me. I can relax a little more.

2:30 am. People arrive. Candles are lit. The atmosphere is calm and comforting. I can feel the excitement and the hedge of protection around me. Half my acquaintance and their mothers and friends and uncles are praying for me and my unborn child. My mother is here and reads me verses from my labor cards I had collected in preparation for this. Her voice is barely steady. She's about to become a grandmother.

"For God gave us not a spirit of fear, but of power and love and self control." 2 Timothy 1:7

"May you be strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance with patience and joy."Colossians 1:11

"And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace... will himself restore, confirm, strengthen and establish you." 1 Peter 5:10

"Come to me all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." Matthew 11:28, 30

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Philippians 4:13

"'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses so that the power of Christ may rest upon me." 2 Corinthians 12:9

3:50 am. The contractions feel like they're building cities with my body. One right on top of another. Nicole examines me to see my progress. "Chloe, honey, you're complete. It's time to push." Finally. Pushing is a relief. I can work now and the pain goes away. My sisters (by birth and by marriage) boil water for hot compresses. I love this part. If only all of labor could be like this... Grace.

My mothers and midwife laugh encouragingly at my efforts. The can't believe it I guess, they tell me I'm pushing like a pro. "I can hear her moving her baby!!" "I can see the baby's head!" "I see hair, Chloe!" Joy.

Almost there. Thanksgiving.




I feel myself fighting through the haze that hangs in a thick veil over my eyes. The light is bright. Moniters beep. Where am I?

I hear Nicole's voice. "The perineum is intact..." Ahhhh, I won. No tearing.

I can just see the worry and grief caught behind everyone's relieved smiles, eyes still moist. Something must have happened. But I still don't know what to name my baby. I manage to form the question: "What is it?"

A healthy baby boy. Oliver. I want to see him, to hold him. I think I did... I don't remember. They left Jonathan alone with me. I remember his firm grip on my weakened hand. His hands are so much bigger than mine. My husband's tears. His choked explanation. "You had two seizures. We're in the emergency room."

I'm in a cylindrical container. Like a tunnel. It hums, I shiver. I think I dream. I don't remember.

The MRI results show no brain aneurysm. Must be Eclampsia.

Three days at the hospital where Jonathan's dad works. Three days and fifty visitors. Then we are home. My mother stays with us so Jonathan can return to work. Three people come to our door; "Remember us?" Strangers to me. They are some of the medics who responded to our call for help, come to see how mommy and baby are doing. No wonder I don't know them. The time during the actual birth is blank to me. Worse than blank. It is a black hole, and all things that happened then are like space particles, sucked into nothingness, untraceable... irretrievable. Grace.

It is now November. Jonathan is a volunteer EMT on the squad that came to our rescue.

Despite his healthy size, I marvel at the frailty of the squiggly little creature laying at my side for his morning feeding. I smile when I feel the pressure of his tiny thumb on mine as he grips my finger. It is still dark and I imagine the size difference. Happy and content, he falls asleep and his grip releases. The feel of his soft little hand where he lays it on my skin is like a death grip, willing me to stay right where he has me. Wisdom is knowledge applied. Conquering the inner desire to hold him close always, I gather him in my arms and cradle him to his bed. We'll both sleep better.

Charis, grace. Chara, joy. Eucharisteo, thanksgiving.

Praise God.

I love you, Jonathan.

(Photos to follow.)

2 Comment(s):

Julia said...

Thanks for sharing dear sister!! So nice to read about it all since I couldnt be there. Cant wait to see you guys in December and meet little Oliver :)
Love you all very much!!!

Ashlee said...

A beautiful birth story! Thankful for God's grace in your life!