To read any of the girls' birth stories, click the tab at the top of the blog.
To read all of the letters and such I wrote Sloan before he was born, click HERE.
Also: this is a birth story. I tried not to be too detailed, but birth is messy and raw and painful and there are times that, in order to tell the true story, I had to say things like "scrape membranes" and "dilation." Consider that your warning and proceed with caution :)
Writing a birth story takes a lot of thought for me-- and starting it is always the hardest, especially when functioning on much less sleep and three weeks post-partum! Like I wrote at the start of Nan's, there is just so much crammed in such a short space of time, and in the end there is another human on this earth. How do I put that into words? How does one describe the moment that moves from painful to sacred when your child is laid on your chest?
I know this is a birth story, but I think I need to start at the beginning. This past year and a half felt like one long, winding road. It started with the courage to try for a fourth, which felt very beyond my capabilities. That led to a long first trimester through a hot summer, followed by the shock at 14 weeks that our baby's heart had stopped beating. The next few months saw us through grief and healing, and the decision we would try again. The day before Christmas Eve I learned I was pregnant again, and by the end of February I was already experiencing some pelvic pain. My pelvic bone had separated from the pubic symphysis after my delivery with Nan, and so we knew it was a possibility again; however, I did not know how early that pain would start, and how hard the last six months of my pregnancy would be. But through it all there were two constants for me: The never-ending love and peace of God, and the steady, quiet love of a man.
Brent never left my side, even when I felt so weary. When I couldn't even bend over or put on my own pants, he worked tirelessly to keep our family and our home functioning. He told me to sit down and he vacuumed and emptied the dishwasher over and over and over. He folded laundry and handled bedtime. He worked full time and then came home and worked full time. We had a lot of help, but Brent is what got me to the finish line. Our three girls never missed a beat while their mom could do so little, because their dad did so much. When we needed him the most, Brent gave his utmost for us.
We've walked through the wilderness and found the clearing, and it was Brent that reminded me I could make it-- he told me not to pitch a tent and camp in the wild places but to keep moving-- he reminded me that God would make a way.
I was in so much pain carrying our boy, but I don't know how Brent did it, because he carried us all.
Which got us to August 24th: My induction date. I was amazed and grateful we made it to the induction. My doctor, like last time, truly believed an induction was the safest route for me as she was fearful if my water broke on its own that we would not make it to the hospital in time. I trust her without question, and we set the date. The night before we put the girls to bed like usual, but lingered a little as we tucked them in. I wrote a blog that night about our "normal" day. We crept in once they were asleep and gave them some final kisses. My eyes welled up but I did not cry because I knew that, even though things would be changing in huge ways for our family, bringing another sibling home for them was deeply and fully good. I knew it would stretch my time thinner, but I also knew it would be adding richly to our family's story and I did not fear the change it would bring us all like I had when Becks joined our family. Though this child was an unknown, adding to our family was no longer an unknown I feared. I knew it would yield beauty.
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| Last picture as a family of 5 before we left for the induction Friday morning |
I went in the bathroom and took some tylenol p.m. to ensure a little sleep before the big day, and slowed at my image in front of the mirror. There I was, in all my 39-week-pregnant glory. Baby boy's feet were still sticking out in a lump on the right of my swollen belly and I could see the reverberations of his rolls. I placed my hands on my so-tight abdomen, took a deep breath, and asked God for the strength I would need to deliver this boy into the world, for the peace to remember the command to "fear not", and for my son to be healthy and whole. I then waddled to my side of the bed and, grimacing and with no grace, rolled in. I stuffed pillows all around and me and tried to get comfortable for one last night.
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| Cutting the last chain on her "countdown to baby brother!" |
Waking up on the day of induction is strange. I knew that, most likely, within the next 12 hours I would be holding this baby on the outside, and yet I was having no feelings of labor. I made some oatmeal, had a chocolate chip waffle with peanut butter [I don't know how many Eggos I ate the last month or two!], and a cup of coffee. I wanted something that would "stick", should I have to miss a meal. Brent and I got the girls around, I did several heads of little girls' hair, and then we loaded up the car. Blythe and an infant seat were in the back. We pulled out of our driveway and I knew I was leaving "only a girl mom" behind. We dropped Blythe off at school, and that big six year old just said goodbye and hopped out of the car like it was any other day. As the door shut behind her, I reached over and grabbed Brent's hand-- now it was time.
I don't know what it would be like to be a soldier and strap on a bayonet and head over the hill into enemy's camp, but I can't imagine the feeling in my stomach would be much different. Here's the thing with labor and delivery: you have to do it. There is no way around it, only through it. I knew I could do it. I had been there three times before. But it did not mean I was looking forward to it. I was so ready to meet this guy, and be done with pregnancy, and be on the other side of all of it. But I wasn't so sure I was ready to don that hospital gown and endure what was set before me. And to me, that's the worst part of induction: you know it's coming and there is nothing to distract you [i.e. contractions], on your drive to the hospital. Brent and I chatted here and there about nothing in particular. At one point he brought up something about labor, and I said I didn't want to talk about it. We sat silently, together. And then we were pulling in the parking lot of the hospital. We found a spot, parked, and then Brent grabbed my hand and he prayed for our doctor, our nurses, us, and our baby boy-- for whatever the next few hours may hold. We walked into the hospital holding only our bags, anxious and excited to be holding a baby on the return trip.
We were led to our room for the next few days-- room 1819-- and were greeted by a nurse named Pam, the smell of hospital hand sanitizer, and a green gown. We chatted with Pam as she fired up the computer, asked us questions, and put on our arm bands. At one point nurse Tara popped her head in with a hello, and a warning for Pam that I was going to go fast! You know you've had a lot of kids when some of the nurses know you and remember your labor history. Tara was the nurse that almost got the privilege of delivering Becks, had Dr. C not ran from her office. I knew right away I was going to get along great with Pam because she got my i.v. in on the first try, which has never in my life happened [I have terrible veins]. She therefore earned my trust and my accolades immediately. She told us she had gotten called in that morning because they were so busy, but that she said she would only work until one because she had promised her son she would pick him up from school. It was 9:30 and I told her I would do my best to have this baby before she had to leave.
Once the i.v. was in and the monitors were all hooked up and playing the wonderful sound of our son's heartbeat and tracking my non-contractions, we sat and waiting for my doctor to come in and give us the game plan. I had Brent turn the temperature of the room to the coldest setting-- I had been hot my entire pregnancy and our room was icey cold. Brent changed into his sweats and a sweatshirt. At about 10:30 my doctor came in and when I saw her I was even more grateful I had made it to my induction, if for no other reason than I knew I would have her there with me. We all chatted a bit, and then she checked me. I was still at a 3 [which I had been at my appointment earlier that week], but then she made a face. "I thought he was further down when I checked you Tuesday, but he still needs to come down some more." Not what I was expecting or wanting to hear. Maybe my labor was going to be longer than we anticipated after all. I was only about 50% effaced too, but she assured me I was "very soft" and she wasn't too worried at all. She had a surgery she had to step into at 11 that she knew would keep her tied up for about an hour. She didn't want to break my water "and miss it!" I was a little disappointed she didn't want to break my water and get things started-- it sounded to me like baby needed to drop, I needed to get contractions going and progress some more, and all of that would not happen within an hour! But I trusted her. She went ahead and stripped my membranes and we started on pitocin.
She left and Pam found us a portable monitor so I could walk around and try and encourage something to get started. Walking was something I had been needing to avoid during my last two months. It was painful, but I was determined to get something started. After all, we were there to have a baby! So Brent pushed my i.v. up and down the halls. On lap three I had a contraction or two, and by lap four I needed to stop walking while the contractions happened, and I could tell they were already starting to pattern up. It had been about 20-30 minutes since we started the drip. We hadn't even started lap five, and Pam met us around a corner holding Dr. C by the elbow. "I found her!" she said, "And I made her stay until you came back."
It was almost noon, and Dr. C wanted to check me again now that I had had a few regular contractions. I was still at a three, but I was effaced 80%. I said I was hoping she would say I had dilated more, and Pam laughed and said, "I'm impressed you went from 50-80!" Dr. C felt comfortable breaking my water at this point, and told me she really thought I would move quickly from this point forward.
Right after she broke my water, my dad came in the room. I didn't know he was coming, and he almost got quite a show! But luckily he went to the wrong room first. Apparently there was another family there with the last name of Irvin. Dad got sent to the wrong room, which is a funny story in and of itself, and it spared him from walking in on my water being broken. He dropped off a dinosaur book for his grandson and he and Brent talked about biking or running or something. I'm not entirely sure because behind them Pam was prepping the delivery table. She set out gauze and tools and supplies I don't have names for but that look fairly intimidating when you're about ready to deliver a baby. My dad looked over and saw the set up, and made some comment about how appeared time for him to leave. Pam responded that setting all that up "this early in labor" went against everything she normally did, but everyone told her it was necessary with me so she followed orders.
It was about 12:15 and I noticed my contractions starting to pick up. By 12:30 I was really needing to breathe and focus through them. I was finally in real labor! It was what we were there for and what I had been waiting for for months, but as the hard contractions started pulsing through my body I remembered labor for all that it was. It was everything I remembered, and just like my last induction I seemed to be starting right in the middle with no build up. Pam said she was going to bump my pitocin up a bit, to really get things going, so I got up and went to the bathroom because I knew that would probably be the last time I wanted to get up. She offered me a birthing ball, and asked if I wanted anything like that. I told her we would see, but that I usually can't do anything but lay in the bed and try not to scream.
When I got back in the bed, Pam encouraged me to labor on my side. I remembered doing that with Nan, and I remembered it was the hardest, most painful labor I had experienced. However, I also remembered it really sped things along... even for me... so I trusted her guidance. And from that point forward it seemed that every single contraction was compounding on the last and every pain had so much purpose. Contractions were coming every 30 seconds to one minute and lasting almost a minute. Just like my previous three labors, my body was not messing around and it was not going to give me the "luxury" of easing into anything-- it hit the ground running. After 15 minutes I flipped over on my other side. Flipped makes it sound like it was easy: I waited for a contraction to subside, and then Brent and Pam helped me painfully roll to my other side.
I had memorized some verses to carry with me through labor. One of my favorite college professors always told us that memorizing poetry was like being able to carry around a warm casserole to offer other people when they needed it. This probably sounds weird if you aren't a word-lover like myself, but I always loved that image. And memorizing scripture has been like that for my soul when I need it most. However, this time when I went to pull the memorized scripture to remind me of the Spirit's presence with me, the intensity of the contractions was overwhelming for my brain to go there.The line from a worship song came to me at one point though, and for a few contractions I just breathed in and out with the truth, "You are my hope and stay..."
However, very quickly all I could manage was counting. I stared at the tiny screw on the side of the bed that was a six-sided star shape and I would slowly count up one side, "One.....two.....three...." and breathe out the other side, "...four.... five.... six" until the contraction passed. At one point I lost focus for just a moment and had a frantic feeling. I'd never had that before in labor, as I've always been able to stay very zoned in on what I was doing, but this labor was a new level for me. With every pulse through my body I could feel him moving down, further into the birth canal. Dr. C had said he wasn't totally in position, but gosh darn it he was doing his best to get there quickly. I knew I couldn't lose my focus and I knew I didn't want that frantic feeling again, so my determination rose to a new level. It wasn't quite one o'clock when I looked at Brent and said, "I don't know if I can do this." To which he responded, "I know that means you're almost done." In every labor when I've hit that wall, it means I am in transition and the end is usually getting close, but labor had JUST started. I didn't think there was any way I could almost be done, but I had never experienced the level of intensity I was experiencing.
Nurse Pam was supposed to leave at one, but she told me she would check me because she wanted to stay if I was close to delivery. She looked at me with a little smile and said, "You're a six, but I could stretch you to whatever I want." With that she dropped the light from the ceiling and went to let my doctor know. We were right by the nurse's station so it only took a second, and when she returned she said that Dr. C was right outside and that she wouldn't leave until she had delivered my baby. "You're clearly her I.P. today," Pam said with a little laugh. I thought dropping the light and getting everyone ready when I was only at a six seemed a little pre-mature, but I was also comforted knowing that my doctor was right at hand, and that they agreed with Brent's assessment.
Shortly after that Dr. C came in and wanted to check for herself. She said I was a little more than a six, and I had a couple contractions while she checked and she sat on my bed and just put her hand on my leg. Pam watched on from the side of the bed and jokingly said to Dr. C that I could "teach a class" on labor, and they praised me for my "control". However, with every wave I felt a little closer to out-of-control, but I clung to the knowledge that I was getting closer with each contraction, and reminded myself that God had designed my body to endure such pain and deliver my baby.
From that point forward I felt like I was hanging on for dear life. Pam didn't leave the room, and Brent just quietly offered his hand and his comfort like he always does so well.
One to one-thirty. I don't ever want to relive that time. Whew. I am not one to make noise beyond my breathing during labor, but even I could tell I was breathing WAY louder than normal, and I couldn't help but say "Ouch" or "Ow" as I finished a breath out. At 1:30 I couldn't stand being on my side any longer and I maneuvered onto my back. I tried to remind my body and my brain about my precious baby boy at the end of all of this. My legs were shaking horribly with each contraction. I had never experienced that until the adrenaline rush after delivery, but it was like my legs were separate from my body and I couldn't control the way they tremored. I looked over at Pam and she said she was waiting for "that look on my face" that would tell her she needed to check me. To which I responded, "I think you need to just go ahead and check me."
I was at a nine and totally effaced.
She walked to the door to holler at Dr. C and I said, "Will you have time to pick up your son!?" to which she laughed and said, "Yes, but let's focus on helping you get to meet yours!"
Everyone started pouring into the room. It was about 1:40. The cart with supplies that had been prepared one hour earlier when I wasn't even really in labor was pushed over. Dr. C unfolded the bed stirrups, not the high ones, as we had discussed earlier. She really wanted me to put my legs up at the last possible moment to keep my pelvis out of that position as long as possible to hopefully prevent further damage or total separation again. She checked me herself and said, "Oh yes, you can start pushing now!"
I didn't feel ready to push. Every other labor I have felt it-- that significant moment when all I can think about is pushing. But beyond pain and pressure, I didn't have that urge. I knew every birth coach would tell me to only push when I felt ready and felt the urge, but I was ready to be done with labor and I knew how to push even without the urge thanks to three previous deliveries. So I double checked that I had heard her correctly and, taking her at her word, I put my feet in the stirrups and waited for the next contraction.
I started bearing down as hard as I could, drawing from memory ,and putting all my strength and focus into it. It didn't feel real. Yes, the pain and intensity were unmistakably real, but it all happened so fast-- even for me-- that my brain was having a hard time catching up. Brent was right beside me and I remember him saying, "Breathe! Kels! Breathe!" I never seem to remember that part when I am so focused on getting my child into the world. Every single cell in my body was only focused on getting him here. After that first contraction and pushing, I didn't feel like I had done much, but Dr. C looked at me and said, "I see a lot of dark hair. He's almost here."
And that was all the encouragement I needed.
This was it. My fear of becoming a mother of four and leaning into God's strength; our grief over our miscarriage; my physical pain throughout the pregnancy and being taught again that I learn so much in weakness. All of that was leading us to this moment. Our journey through the wilderness had brought us here, and as I pushed for the final time, we stepped into the clearing.
And they laid my fourth child, my first son, on my chest.
I looked at Brent, incredulous. I looked down at our son and felt his warmth against my chest. I was euphoric with joy and with the wonder of new life. I just held him tight to me, I kissed his head and tried to get a look at his face. There were seven other people in the room...or maybe seventy...I don't know, because in that moment God had just handed me my son. Like I wrote when I had Nan: These post-delivery moments are really, truly other-worldly. It's a moment when God has parted the curtain back a crack and we see a little of His mysteries and miracles first hand. The rush of "conquering" delivery couples with the rush of holding a brand new flesh-and-blood-person-- who is mine to love and call son, and it's truly more than I believe we were made to comprehend.
It still didn't seem possible that he was on my chest-- on the outside! In the world! Breathing air! In the euphoria of the moment I looked over at Brent, then at Pam and Dr. C and said, "It is a boy, right?" They laughed and assured me he was. Again my brain was having a hard time catching up-- it didn't seem possible he was already here! As I held his pinking body against me, my hips and legs started to cramp like they have always done after delivery. I accidentally kicked over the bowl of iodine while trying to stretch out and Dr. C just calmly worked through it all to help me finish up all the post-delivery business that is necessary. Nurse Tara asked us what his name was and it's always so fun to say the name out loud to others for the first time. I felt a little like Adam in the garden getting to name the animals and proudly shared, "Sloan Lee." [Story behind his name: HERE]
Slowly people started to leave our room. The spilled iodine was mopped up. The cart of supplies was wheeled away. Dr. C, Pam, and Tara lingered a bit, looking at him with us and congratulating us. Sloan reached up and put his little hand on my face, and Dr. C insisted that Brent "get that picture!" of us.
It was one of our first moments together, flesh to flesh. We had been intimately connected for nine months, just he and I sharing secret kicks and hiccups and jabs. But here he was, outside, skin to skin with me and he reached up to hold my face and I kissed his head over and over and thanked God from the pit of my soul for this life I held.
Then it was just us-- Sloan, Brent, and me. We had asked for that first hour together, insisted we have a little time to just watch this new son of ours and breathe him in. We'd never done that before, and that time was such a gift to us. I told Sloan Jesus loved him so much. Brent eventually went and got my mom, who had patiently been in the waiting room for the last couple of hours, and we introduced her to her grandson. And then we let the nurses know we were ready for them to measure him. Tara was the nurse to come in and do it, and when she put him on the scale she started laughing and said, "No way! You guys! He's 8 lbs 4 oz!" She remembered our small babies and had held little 5 lb Becks in her hands. We were shocked, but I also wasn't totally surprised because of the havoc that 8 lbs had wreaked on my body for the last stretch of my pregnancy, not to mention how much harder it was to push him out than it had been with the girls.
And then began the joy of sharing Sloan with the world. Slowly our family trickled in. He had a hard time warming up after his bath, so our room filled up with our parents, our girls, my grandparents, and the Blythes while we waited for him. He had barely arrived and already there were fifteen people in our room who loved him so much. That blessing was not lost on me. His sisters adored him from the very beginning. Over the weekend we had 30 visitors come and love on Sloan.
Those days in the hospital are some of my favorites. They are simple and stripped down and all we have to do is study our new child. To breathe in that newborn smell, to kiss his lips, and watch his eyes flutter. One night after I fed him and Brent slept on the cot next to us, I read him Psalm 139: ... You hem me in-- behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me...Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me... even the darkness will not be dark to you.. you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made... lead me in the way everlasting." Oh how I wanted Sloan to know in his first 24 hours here with us how big and far-reaching the love of our God is for him.
This time was also special because I was able to talk with my sister throughout the night when I was up feeding Sloan, as she lives on the other side of the world. It's always been hard not to share our babies in their first days, but this made those quiet nights even more dear to me.
Labor is hard. And while my labors may not be long, they are so unbelievably intense. This one seemed to just be a rocket, launched with fire. And there is no way but through it. I always think of Isaiah 43:2 that says, "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze." There were moments this time that I thought for sure I would be set "ablaze", and yet God's faithful hand guided me to the other side. In His kindness He gives us the pain of labor to see the fullness of the beauty and His glory on the other side. And where there is pain and exhaustion and agony in labor, there is even more life and joy and beauty on the other side.
Sloan Lee, we are so thankful it is you with us, and we are so thankful for the ways you will make us grow in love and patience and joy. You couldn't know this yet, but your arrival put a song in our souls that our family has not yet sung-- we didn't know the words to the song until you came into our arms and shared them with us.
We were led to our room for the next few days-- room 1819-- and were greeted by a nurse named Pam, the smell of hospital hand sanitizer, and a green gown. We chatted with Pam as she fired up the computer, asked us questions, and put on our arm bands. At one point nurse Tara popped her head in with a hello, and a warning for Pam that I was going to go fast! You know you've had a lot of kids when some of the nurses know you and remember your labor history. Tara was the nurse that almost got the privilege of delivering Becks, had Dr. C not ran from her office. I knew right away I was going to get along great with Pam because she got my i.v. in on the first try, which has never in my life happened [I have terrible veins]. She therefore earned my trust and my accolades immediately. She told us she had gotten called in that morning because they were so busy, but that she said she would only work until one because she had promised her son she would pick him up from school. It was 9:30 and I told her I would do my best to have this baby before she had to leave.
Once the i.v. was in and the monitors were all hooked up and playing the wonderful sound of our son's heartbeat and tracking my non-contractions, we sat and waiting for my doctor to come in and give us the game plan. I had Brent turn the temperature of the room to the coldest setting-- I had been hot my entire pregnancy and our room was icey cold. Brent changed into his sweats and a sweatshirt. At about 10:30 my doctor came in and when I saw her I was even more grateful I had made it to my induction, if for no other reason than I knew I would have her there with me. We all chatted a bit, and then she checked me. I was still at a 3 [which I had been at my appointment earlier that week], but then she made a face. "I thought he was further down when I checked you Tuesday, but he still needs to come down some more." Not what I was expecting or wanting to hear. Maybe my labor was going to be longer than we anticipated after all. I was only about 50% effaced too, but she assured me I was "very soft" and she wasn't too worried at all. She had a surgery she had to step into at 11 that she knew would keep her tied up for about an hour. She didn't want to break my water "and miss it!" I was a little disappointed she didn't want to break my water and get things started-- it sounded to me like baby needed to drop, I needed to get contractions going and progress some more, and all of that would not happen within an hour! But I trusted her. She went ahead and stripped my membranes and we started on pitocin.
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| waiting |
She left and Pam found us a portable monitor so I could walk around and try and encourage something to get started. Walking was something I had been needing to avoid during my last two months. It was painful, but I was determined to get something started. After all, we were there to have a baby! So Brent pushed my i.v. up and down the halls. On lap three I had a contraction or two, and by lap four I needed to stop walking while the contractions happened, and I could tell they were already starting to pattern up. It had been about 20-30 minutes since we started the drip. We hadn't even started lap five, and Pam met us around a corner holding Dr. C by the elbow. "I found her!" she said, "And I made her stay until you came back."
It was almost noon, and Dr. C wanted to check me again now that I had had a few regular contractions. I was still at a three, but I was effaced 80%. I said I was hoping she would say I had dilated more, and Pam laughed and said, "I'm impressed you went from 50-80!" Dr. C felt comfortable breaking my water at this point, and told me she really thought I would move quickly from this point forward.
Right after she broke my water, my dad came in the room. I didn't know he was coming, and he almost got quite a show! But luckily he went to the wrong room first. Apparently there was another family there with the last name of Irvin. Dad got sent to the wrong room, which is a funny story in and of itself, and it spared him from walking in on my water being broken. He dropped off a dinosaur book for his grandson and he and Brent talked about biking or running or something. I'm not entirely sure because behind them Pam was prepping the delivery table. She set out gauze and tools and supplies I don't have names for but that look fairly intimidating when you're about ready to deliver a baby. My dad looked over and saw the set up, and made some comment about how appeared time for him to leave. Pam responded that setting all that up "this early in labor" went against everything she normally did, but everyone told her it was necessary with me so she followed orders.
It was about 12:15 and I noticed my contractions starting to pick up. By 12:30 I was really needing to breathe and focus through them. I was finally in real labor! It was what we were there for and what I had been waiting for for months, but as the hard contractions started pulsing through my body I remembered labor for all that it was. It was everything I remembered, and just like my last induction I seemed to be starting right in the middle with no build up. Pam said she was going to bump my pitocin up a bit, to really get things going, so I got up and went to the bathroom because I knew that would probably be the last time I wanted to get up. She offered me a birthing ball, and asked if I wanted anything like that. I told her we would see, but that I usually can't do anything but lay in the bed and try not to scream.
When I got back in the bed, Pam encouraged me to labor on my side. I remembered doing that with Nan, and I remembered it was the hardest, most painful labor I had experienced. However, I also remembered it really sped things along... even for me... so I trusted her guidance. And from that point forward it seemed that every single contraction was compounding on the last and every pain had so much purpose. Contractions were coming every 30 seconds to one minute and lasting almost a minute. Just like my previous three labors, my body was not messing around and it was not going to give me the "luxury" of easing into anything-- it hit the ground running. After 15 minutes I flipped over on my other side. Flipped makes it sound like it was easy: I waited for a contraction to subside, and then Brent and Pam helped me painfully roll to my other side.
I had memorized some verses to carry with me through labor. One of my favorite college professors always told us that memorizing poetry was like being able to carry around a warm casserole to offer other people when they needed it. This probably sounds weird if you aren't a word-lover like myself, but I always loved that image. And memorizing scripture has been like that for my soul when I need it most. However, this time when I went to pull the memorized scripture to remind me of the Spirit's presence with me, the intensity of the contractions was overwhelming for my brain to go there.The line from a worship song came to me at one point though, and for a few contractions I just breathed in and out with the truth, "You are my hope and stay..."
However, very quickly all I could manage was counting. I stared at the tiny screw on the side of the bed that was a six-sided star shape and I would slowly count up one side, "One.....two.....three...." and breathe out the other side, "...four.... five.... six" until the contraction passed. At one point I lost focus for just a moment and had a frantic feeling. I'd never had that before in labor, as I've always been able to stay very zoned in on what I was doing, but this labor was a new level for me. With every pulse through my body I could feel him moving down, further into the birth canal. Dr. C had said he wasn't totally in position, but gosh darn it he was doing his best to get there quickly. I knew I couldn't lose my focus and I knew I didn't want that frantic feeling again, so my determination rose to a new level. It wasn't quite one o'clock when I looked at Brent and said, "I don't know if I can do this." To which he responded, "I know that means you're almost done." In every labor when I've hit that wall, it means I am in transition and the end is usually getting close, but labor had JUST started. I didn't think there was any way I could almost be done, but I had never experienced the level of intensity I was experiencing.
Nurse Pam was supposed to leave at one, but she told me she would check me because she wanted to stay if I was close to delivery. She looked at me with a little smile and said, "You're a six, but I could stretch you to whatever I want." With that she dropped the light from the ceiling and went to let my doctor know. We were right by the nurse's station so it only took a second, and when she returned she said that Dr. C was right outside and that she wouldn't leave until she had delivered my baby. "You're clearly her I.P. today," Pam said with a little laugh. I thought dropping the light and getting everyone ready when I was only at a six seemed a little pre-mature, but I was also comforted knowing that my doctor was right at hand, and that they agreed with Brent's assessment.
Shortly after that Dr. C came in and wanted to check for herself. She said I was a little more than a six, and I had a couple contractions while she checked and she sat on my bed and just put her hand on my leg. Pam watched on from the side of the bed and jokingly said to Dr. C that I could "teach a class" on labor, and they praised me for my "control". However, with every wave I felt a little closer to out-of-control, but I clung to the knowledge that I was getting closer with each contraction, and reminded myself that God had designed my body to endure such pain and deliver my baby.
From that point forward I felt like I was hanging on for dear life. Pam didn't leave the room, and Brent just quietly offered his hand and his comfort like he always does so well.
One to one-thirty. I don't ever want to relive that time. Whew. I am not one to make noise beyond my breathing during labor, but even I could tell I was breathing WAY louder than normal, and I couldn't help but say "Ouch" or "Ow" as I finished a breath out. At 1:30 I couldn't stand being on my side any longer and I maneuvered onto my back. I tried to remind my body and my brain about my precious baby boy at the end of all of this. My legs were shaking horribly with each contraction. I had never experienced that until the adrenaline rush after delivery, but it was like my legs were separate from my body and I couldn't control the way they tremored. I looked over at Pam and she said she was waiting for "that look on my face" that would tell her she needed to check me. To which I responded, "I think you need to just go ahead and check me."
I was at a nine and totally effaced.
She walked to the door to holler at Dr. C and I said, "Will you have time to pick up your son!?" to which she laughed and said, "Yes, but let's focus on helping you get to meet yours!"
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| My wonderful doctor who has delivered ALL of my babies |
Everyone started pouring into the room. It was about 1:40. The cart with supplies that had been prepared one hour earlier when I wasn't even really in labor was pushed over. Dr. C unfolded the bed stirrups, not the high ones, as we had discussed earlier. She really wanted me to put my legs up at the last possible moment to keep my pelvis out of that position as long as possible to hopefully prevent further damage or total separation again. She checked me herself and said, "Oh yes, you can start pushing now!"
I didn't feel ready to push. Every other labor I have felt it-- that significant moment when all I can think about is pushing. But beyond pain and pressure, I didn't have that urge. I knew every birth coach would tell me to only push when I felt ready and felt the urge, but I was ready to be done with labor and I knew how to push even without the urge thanks to three previous deliveries. So I double checked that I had heard her correctly and, taking her at her word, I put my feet in the stirrups and waited for the next contraction.
I started bearing down as hard as I could, drawing from memory ,and putting all my strength and focus into it. It didn't feel real. Yes, the pain and intensity were unmistakably real, but it all happened so fast-- even for me-- that my brain was having a hard time catching up. Brent was right beside me and I remember him saying, "Breathe! Kels! Breathe!" I never seem to remember that part when I am so focused on getting my child into the world. Every single cell in my body was only focused on getting him here. After that first contraction and pushing, I didn't feel like I had done much, but Dr. C looked at me and said, "I see a lot of dark hair. He's almost here."
And that was all the encouragement I needed.
This was it. My fear of becoming a mother of four and leaning into God's strength; our grief over our miscarriage; my physical pain throughout the pregnancy and being taught again that I learn so much in weakness. All of that was leading us to this moment. Our journey through the wilderness had brought us here, and as I pushed for the final time, we stepped into the clearing.
And they laid my fourth child, my first son, on my chest.
I looked at Brent, incredulous. I looked down at our son and felt his warmth against my chest. I was euphoric with joy and with the wonder of new life. I just held him tight to me, I kissed his head and tried to get a look at his face. There were seven other people in the room...or maybe seventy...I don't know, because in that moment God had just handed me my son. Like I wrote when I had Nan: These post-delivery moments are really, truly other-worldly. It's a moment when God has parted the curtain back a crack and we see a little of His mysteries and miracles first hand. The rush of "conquering" delivery couples with the rush of holding a brand new flesh-and-blood-person-- who is mine to love and call son, and it's truly more than I believe we were made to comprehend.
It still didn't seem possible that he was on my chest-- on the outside! In the world! Breathing air! In the euphoria of the moment I looked over at Brent, then at Pam and Dr. C and said, "It is a boy, right?" They laughed and assured me he was. Again my brain was having a hard time catching up-- it didn't seem possible he was already here! As I held his pinking body against me, my hips and legs started to cramp like they have always done after delivery. I accidentally kicked over the bowl of iodine while trying to stretch out and Dr. C just calmly worked through it all to help me finish up all the post-delivery business that is necessary. Nurse Tara asked us what his name was and it's always so fun to say the name out loud to others for the first time. I felt a little like Adam in the garden getting to name the animals and proudly shared, "Sloan Lee." [Story behind his name: HERE]
Slowly people started to leave our room. The spilled iodine was mopped up. The cart of supplies was wheeled away. Dr. C, Pam, and Tara lingered a bit, looking at him with us and congratulating us. Sloan reached up and put his little hand on my face, and Dr. C insisted that Brent "get that picture!" of us.
It was one of our first moments together, flesh to flesh. We had been intimately connected for nine months, just he and I sharing secret kicks and hiccups and jabs. But here he was, outside, skin to skin with me and he reached up to hold my face and I kissed his head over and over and thanked God from the pit of my soul for this life I held.
Then it was just us-- Sloan, Brent, and me. We had asked for that first hour together, insisted we have a little time to just watch this new son of ours and breathe him in. We'd never done that before, and that time was such a gift to us. I told Sloan Jesus loved him so much. Brent eventually went and got my mom, who had patiently been in the waiting room for the last couple of hours, and we introduced her to her grandson. And then we let the nurses know we were ready for them to measure him. Tara was the nurse to come in and do it, and when she put him on the scale she started laughing and said, "No way! You guys! He's 8 lbs 4 oz!" She remembered our small babies and had held little 5 lb Becks in her hands. We were shocked, but I also wasn't totally surprised because of the havoc that 8 lbs had wreaked on my body for the last stretch of my pregnancy, not to mention how much harder it was to push him out than it had been with the girls.
And then began the joy of sharing Sloan with the world. Slowly our family trickled in. He had a hard time warming up after his bath, so our room filled up with our parents, our girls, my grandparents, and the Blythes while we waited for him. He had barely arrived and already there were fifteen people in our room who loved him so much. That blessing was not lost on me. His sisters adored him from the very beginning. Over the weekend we had 30 visitors come and love on Sloan.
Those days in the hospital are some of my favorites. They are simple and stripped down and all we have to do is study our new child. To breathe in that newborn smell, to kiss his lips, and watch his eyes flutter. One night after I fed him and Brent slept on the cot next to us, I read him Psalm 139: ... You hem me in-- behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me...Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me... even the darkness will not be dark to you.. you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made... lead me in the way everlasting." Oh how I wanted Sloan to know in his first 24 hours here with us how big and far-reaching the love of our God is for him.
This time was also special because I was able to talk with my sister throughout the night when I was up feeding Sloan, as she lives on the other side of the world. It's always been hard not to share our babies in their first days, but this made those quiet nights even more dear to me.
Labor is hard. And while my labors may not be long, they are so unbelievably intense. This one seemed to just be a rocket, launched with fire. And there is no way but through it. I always think of Isaiah 43:2 that says, "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze." There were moments this time that I thought for sure I would be set "ablaze", and yet God's faithful hand guided me to the other side. In His kindness He gives us the pain of labor to see the fullness of the beauty and His glory on the other side. And where there is pain and exhaustion and agony in labor, there is even more life and joy and beauty on the other side.
Sloan Lee, we are so thankful it is you with us, and we are so thankful for the ways you will make us grow in love and patience and joy. You couldn't know this yet, but your arrival put a song in our souls that our family has not yet sung-- we didn't know the words to the song until you came into our arms and shared them with us.
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