Today is our son’s due date. It’s also his 1 month birthday.
Let me tell you about April 26th. Well, it really starts on April 25th but I didn’t know it then. I woke up that morning when Lucas did at 5AM with contractions that were just uncomfortable. I did all the things that my midwife told me to do to stop Braxton Hicks like drink water and change positions.. nothing worked. I finally got in the bath and that made them stop so I didn’t think anything of it.
That night we decided to go through the few clothes we had and do a load of baby laundry. As I was folding the tiny clothes, I thought to myself, “there is no way a baby can fit in these clothes!”. I mean, they were tiny. Around that time, the contractions started again but I didn’t know they were contractions. I thought I had a really upset stomach or maybe they were those strong Braxton Hicks again.. We went to bed and I went to sleep.
3AM came around and there they were again.. I tried to turn over.. I tried to get up and move around… I tried to drink water.. Finally, I just laid back down. 5AM and my husbands alarm goes off and I jump out of bed and declare, “I am taking a bath..”. They did.not.stop.
We called the hospital at 6AM and my midwife (an angel from heaven) called back immediately.. She said to meet her at 8.
I was pretty calm until then. I realized I could time them and they were coming pretty quickly but not lasting long. My dogs wouldn’t leave my side and dogs know everything. I couldn’t imagine having my baby on this day. I wasn’t ready.. but I did have clean clothes for him.
We called the parental units, we packed bags and fed dogs and off we went.
When I got there, I was a one. I stayed there until 1 that afternoon and never progressed passed a one. I got sent home with orders to lay down and try to relax. My husband had to go into work since his school at the time was based on hours and he could only miss so many. Even going in for one hour was important. I laid there, still contracting and allowed fear to creep in..
The contractions came hard and fast. I was alone. I was sad. Why was it happening now.. That was only the beginning of that question.
Lucas got home and knew I was in labor. Everything had changed in that hour. I cried. I could hardly move. So we did the same thing, texted the midwife, fed the dogs, grabbed the bags, called the family and drove to the hospital (with a quick stop to get gas!).
We got there at 6 and when my midwife checked me, I was still a 1.. I almost came out of my skin.. but then 30 seconds later her words were, “oh no, now you are a 4!”. I progressed from a 1 to a 10 in 2 hours. I didn’t have time to think about the birth plan. I had my oils ready to go and was totally ready to get in the warm tub to manage the pain and didn’t get to do any of it.
If only pushing had gone the same way. 3 hours later and my little boy was in my arms.
I remember few things from all of it because I spent most of the day with my eyes closed. I remember praying a lot. I remember telling myself over and over and over (pretty much with each contraction) that I was not given a spirit of timidity. I was strong and powerful and full of love. I yearned for the baby to come in to the world and after calling on Jesus, I would beg the baby to come out of my body. I did not have one ounce of medication to get through it. Only Jesus, my husband and the best midwife and friend and girl could hope for.
Jennifer kept my calm. She never left the room. She told me exactly what to do and how to get my baby closer to being in my arms. And afterwards, she brought me a sandwich.
Little did I know that was only the beginning of some days and weeks that I would need to be strong to make it through. Nurses and doctors kept coming in our rooms for the next few days and using the word “late term premature” and telling me that my baby was different and would take extra work and it was ok but then there was this, and this and this that we had to look out for because he was “late term premature”. But, when I looked down at the baby in my arms, he was perfect and healthy and it didn’t make sense.
When we got home, all these things ran through my mind but there wasn’t a doctor to ask for clarification anymore and a lot of it was foggy because thats just how things are after you give birth. Satan saw his opening and took it.
Day 2 of being home and I fell apart. Literally. I was in the kitchen, standing over the stove trying to cook something or eating something I had just grabbed and the biggest, hardest tears I have ever cried started pouring out of my eyes.
My baby was premature and it was my fault. What had I done? Was it because I hated being pregnant? Because I was sorry and if God could just rewind the last few days, I promise to change my attitude and we could make it to the due date.
Do you hear Satan in that sentence? Do you hear the lies? The fear?
None of that was true. What was true, and still is, is that my baby was right on time. Jesus always knew the birthdate. He knew that Craig was ready when he was ready and it just worked out that I didn’t have to be pregnant anymore. Jesus was full of grace. I can already think of a few reasons why I am glad He was early just out of convenience for me, but maybe its not convenience for Jesus. I frankly, don’t believe that he cares about convenience for himself. He is Jesus and His plan is perfect and He only gives us good gifts.
My baby is small. My baby is healthy. And God is always good.
Craig has taught me so many things already. Namely to ask myself, do I really trust in God the way I say I do. During his birth, I could only think of God to get me through the most insane pain.. why had I thought anything would be different after?
I cried those big, fat tears for weeks until I saw Jennifer again. And then we sat for an hour and both cried to each other about pain we felt. And it was perfect and provided healing and pushed away fear and made space for peace.
Now, just look at this boy and see the joy. Because thats all I can seem to do these days.