Two years ago today our youngest child was born. We weren't planning on having any more children, but I remember driving down the street one day and realizing that no matter what we planned things were in God's hands. I found out two weeks later that I was pregnant.
We were so sure we would be having girl number 5. We thought "we populate the world with girls" and so when we saw that little penis on the ultrasound we were both in tears. A boy!
Planning a home birth was really exciting for me. I had gone natural before and just the experience of prenatal care with a midwife was such a nice change for me. No in and out prenatal appointments, she left plenty of time to answer each and every one of my questions.
"What if the cord is wrapped around the neck?"
"What if we have to go to the hospital for an emergency C-section?"
"What if he's turned the wrong way?"
"What if, what if, what if???"
She was so patient and reassuring and finally instructed me to stop watching Special Delivery on Discovery Health, a show featuring high risk deliveries.
My midwife, Charlotte Geddis, has delivered thousands of babies and told me stories of miraculous situations she's seen. Real miracles! That assured me that having this baby in the setting we were choosing was a step of faith, but God would meet us and be with us through it all.
On the night I went into labor I wasn't sure it was labor. No body tells you that the more kids you have the more false labor you have so I had already called her on two different occasions thinking it was it when it wasn't.
Bill went to bed and I got some sleep too. I did rest a little and then woke up and realized the contractions were still going. During false labor, going to sleep at night would be the end of them. I took a shower and the hot water felt great on my back. Then I sat on my exercise ball and watched some late late night TV. Finally the contractions were getting to the point where I needed to breathe through them so I woke up Bill to tell him it was for real this time.
And it was, they suddenly were very intense and pretty regular. I decided right then and there that I would rather go to the midwife's office instead of having her come to our place. I think I decided that because I was suddenly worried about progressing slowly. With Ruby (and pitosin) I kept thinking I was transitioning because of the pain and when the nurse checked me I was only almost to 3cm. I know that had to to with being induced, but I was still afraid that would happen again.
Our kids had spent the night at my parents house so that was already taken care of. I originally was going to have my two older girls there, but changed my mind about that too.
I was the one having the baby so I went with what I wanted.
We got ready to head over to Charlotte's and then we realized we couldn't find the keys to the suburban. No problem...we had Bill's work van! Not a comfortable ride.
We headed over and I suddenly forgot my very simple breathing patten of deep breaths in through the nose, out through the mouth. I started taking little breaths and hyperventilating until my husband reminded me how to do it. He was so good and how did I respond?
"You are getting a vasectomy!!!!" I yelled. He drove faster.
That ride was so bumpy that when we got to her office I stumbled out of the car and barfed.
I told the assistant to prepare the tub. The midwife wanted to check me first. I didn't understand why they couldn't multitask and start the tub and then check me but I guess they sensed I was farther along then I thought. Yep, 9 1/2 cm.
She broke my water, I quickly got to 10 cm and the contractions pretty much stopped.
After some contraction inducing tactics they started back up again and I started to push. This part of it was what my husband appreciated and why he recommends everyone to go to a midwife. Charlotte was praying over us while she was watching, taking care that I didn't tear and waiting for my little boy's big round head to descend.
Just to give you an idea, Emma took all of three pushes, Ruby took absolutely none at all, but Brayden's hard head had me pushing for 40 minutes.
But then he emerged into the world and into my arms (I actually reached down and pulled him up onto me) and the feeling of euphoric elation overcame my tired body. He went right on my breast knowing exactly what that was for.
After the placenta passed, Bill cut the cord. The midwife and assistant cleaned and weighed him. 7 pounds 14 ounces and 21 inches long and that was two weeks early.
I stayed and snuggled with my baby boy while Bill went home to get the suburban and the car seat.
He got back and we headed home, stopping at Dairy Queen for a bigger meal than I'd had in weeks.
The girls were so excited to meet their little brother.
For the rest of the day I laid with him in bed, rested and fell more in love.
Then night came. My milk of course had not come in and clearly the yellow stuff was not enough for my hungry boy. With the girls they simply whimpered and sucked on their hands when they were hungry as a tiny baby, but not Brayden. He screamed! Every two hours he screamed! I seriously remember saying something along the lines of "Oh no, what did we get ourselves into?"
And where was that cute little baby cry that babies are supposed to have?
My milk came in and he slept for longer than two hours but screaming his head off when he was hungry continued.
I got his name from one of those 35,000 baby names books and I thought it was an English name that meant "broad hill" or "wide valley", one of those. But then I found a name very close to his in my Strong's Hebrew dictionary. The word brayed means "to scream with hunger"....yep that fits him.
So, his verse is this "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. " Matthew 5:6
This morning I sang Happy Birthday to Brayden and then said "How old are you now???" He exclaimed "10!" Hey not so fast buddy! Happy 2nd birthday.
