Job 39:1-4
"Do you know the time the mountain goats give birth?
Do you observe the calving of the deer?
Can you count the months they fulfill,
Or do you know the time they give birth?
They kneel down, they bring forth their young,
They get rid of their labor pains.
Their offspring become strong, they grow up in the open field;
They leave and do not return to them."
In the weeks leading up to my due date on September 18th this past autumn, I grew nervous and excited, worried and afraid, stressed and exhausted, in equal bursts of emotion the closer we came to full term. I easily recalled the pain and physically exhausting labor (24 hours) with my firstborn only a year prior, and I was afraid to face that pain again.
I was afraid I would not be a good mother to both of my children, and that Aiden would be forced to grow up too fast. I was worried the house wouldn't be ready. I stressed about whether I would be able to get ahold of all of our family when the moment came. Mostly, I was afraid I would have to be induced, and not be able to give birth without medication as I had planned. Basically, my emotions were in a tailspin as I tried to know all the answers instead of trusting the God who had brought us all this far.
I cleaned the house and wrote out a labor plan. I talked with my husband, snuggled my son, researched a photographer for family pictures with our newborn, and I worried. My heart knew that my short-sighted labor plans didn't really matter as long as I was holding my baby, but my head had a hard time accepting that. As my due date came and passed with no signs of imminent labor, apprehension and fatigue succumbed to feelings of intense defeat.
A minor health issue arose due to pregnancy hormonal imbalance, and I developed a small pink mole-like-in-appearance hemangioma (blood cells gathered to form a small bulge) at the base of my forehead. Old insecurities reminiscent of high school resurfaced, and I became completely insecure in my appearance with this witch-like mole jutting out of my forehead at the base of my birth mark: a new protrusion to go with my enormous swollen abdomen. I only exacerbated circumstances when I dried the hemangioma out while trying to get rid of it, which caused irritation to the point of sporadic bleeding for the last two or so weeks of my pregnancy (along with an ER visit). The blood flow opened the floodgates, and I was an emotional train wreck. Time ticked by as my pregnancy plotted its course to the ultimate moment every mother and father looks forward too, and I felt anything but ready. I felt insecure, insufficient, devoid of trust in God's plan, and wholly defeated.
Then my due date came, and I got to take a favorite "happy due date" bump photo just like I had with my son. (This time with some conveniently placed bangs covering my forehead.) I was happy that God had blessed me with a body capable of carrying a baby to full term, but I was still struggling with just wanting to be done, and worrying over when I finally would be in the next chapter of parenthood.
That's when I read a First Five devotional from Proverbs 31 Ministries and came across the verses at the top of this page. They spoke so much encouragement into my heart. God knew the timetables of the pregnancies of goats and deer. He knew the days and months; he knew the exact moment. He saw fit to create animals capable of giving birth without any intervention or plan. He had created an entire world teeming with life; surely I could trust him to help me give birth to this new life growing inside me.
My worries lessened, and my hemangioma healed over. At my 41 week appointment, I was dilated to a 2.75. The next day we had our NST, and our baby girl was monitored for a full hour instead of the 20-45 minutes they had anticipated. (I had drunk way too much water, which completely woke her up; so she kept kicking the monitors away so that all of her major heart accelerations were broken up in the tracings on the transcript. Basically, she has always loved to keep us waiting.) My induction was scheduled as far out as was medically safe, on September 29th (that Friday) at 41 weeks and 5 days.
After having had my membranes swept twice in the hopes of prompting labor, after four hours of contractions on the 26th (Wednesday night) resulting in only minor discomfort, after a myriad of powerwalks with my dog and stroller, after walking one foot up on the curb and one on the street to help my pelvis shift for birth (per doula's recommendations), after prayers, squats, pineapple, and a lot of bouncing/rotating on our exercising ball, it seemed nothing would get my labor started but the inevitable induction. We kept trying all the "home remedies" for starting labor, and I kept doubting that my body would ever do what it needed to do.
Giving birth began to feel like a deadline with our scheduled induction. I was told to call Labor and Delivery at 6pm and then come in at 8pm on Friday, the 29th. Thursday night, and several other nights, ended in tears as I let my feelings of defeat crumble my trust in God's plan.
Then early Friday morning at 6am, I awoke to my stomach cramping. I had been tossing and turning in my sleep for a while. There was a dull ache in my back and continuous discomfort in my stomach. I got up to use the restroom to see if the cramp would lesson. Using the restroom did not succeed in alleviating the pain, which gave me hope that perhaps this could be the real thing.
I opened up messenger and found the sweetest message from my mom- who happened to be online at midnight her time back in the States. I messaged her about how I was feeling, and right before I climbed back in bed I had a real contraction. I had worried so much about not being able to get ahold of my family, and then my mother was the first person I was able to tell that I was going into labor. God saw over even the smallest details.
For the next hour and a half, I watched my sweet husband and precious son sleep. I logged in the contractions in an app on my Kindle, and they were coming about 15 minutes apart. Then the contractions started to slow, and I started to fall back asleep. When I realized the contractions were letting up, I was scared this could turn into another false alarm, so I quickly got out of bed.
I figured movement would help keep the contractions going, and it did. I cleaned up Aiden's toys and tidied the living room. Hopeful anticipation of bringing our second baby home resonated in everything I did. I had prayed and wished so hard that I would wake up one morning and be in labor, and God was answering my prayers with a resounding yes. I was ecstatic.
I heard Aiden's small voice and went upstairs. Ethan was groggily waking up beside him. I stood at the foot of the bed with a beaming smile stretched across my face, and quickly shared the news. His grin met mine. It was finally time. His excitement made me even more overjoyed.
We went downstairs, put frozen waffles in the toaster for Aiden and I (I had long ago decided I was going to eat), brewed coffee, and I started to empty the dishwasher. Having something normal to focus on- an everyday chore- helped distract me from the pain. It gave me something else to focus on, and helped me labor even longer at home- which was one of our goals.
We had spent a lot of time laboring in the hospital with our first, and I wanted to be more comfortable. I had gone to a labor class with my friend, and I wanted to try more natural methods this time around. We figured if we stayed home, I would be more comfortable swaying/dancing through the pain, leaning into my exercise ball, and there would be less temptation to get an epidural or other pain meds that are only available in a hospital.
While I emptied the dishwasher and put away a few piles of folded laundry, Ethan cleaned out the car, installed the car seat, and took our dog outside and fed him breakfast. As you can tell, we are pretty good at procrastinating.
By 10am, the contractions were starting to intensify, so we played music, Ethan looked after Aiden, and I soaked in our tub. The hot water felt amazing. Seriously amazing- I only felt three contractions while I was submerged. I began to fear labor was stopping, so I got out and blow dried my hair. (Any other mommas out there who prep for baby pictures?)
My hubby loves to spoil me right before I give birth. When labor started with Aiden, he painted my toenails and fingernails in an effort to help me relax and feel more ready. My amazing man continued the tradition this time around when I was done blow drying my hair, and painted my fingernails a beautiful light blue. (I highly recommend a little pampering before intense pain- it's just nice. It helps me feel pretty before losing a bit of my dignity in a hospital room, and it reminds me I'm fully supported by my partner. We'd be doing this together.)
Around 11am we drove to base and dropped off our oldest with some close friends. Contractions let up a little during the car ride, and I was still breathing through them easily. My friend even joked with us a little because even after 5 hours, it was hard to tell that I was in labor, and I agreed.
We were both hungry, and decided we would go to the combined Subway and Pizza Hut joint for lunch. (It is not always recommended to eat while in labor, and I am not a medical professional. But for me, I knew if I was going to have the stamina I needed, I needed to eat.) It felt humorously like we were coming full circle because my labor with Aiden had actually started at this same restaurant the previous year. I ordered a personal pepperoni pan and cheese sticks, and downed them while Ethan stood in line for 2 Subway sandwiches (He planned on saving one for while we were at the hospital. Quick tip: Always bring food.) By the time he got his order, my contractions were becoming harder to breathe through, and we decided to quickly drive back home.
Once home, we pulled out the exercise ball and listened to music. I crouched down on all fours, with my elbows propped against the exercise ball, and Ethan rubbed pressure points on my back. While he was deployed, he had researched key target areas that massage can help to alleviate pain in labor. I was so grateful because it really did help. About ten minutes into being home, I felt nauseas and threw up.
We clocked my contractions at 1 to 2 minutes apart, and realized we had waited as long as we possibly dared. It was time to go to the hospital.
The drive there was super uncomfortable. Intense pressure starting in my tailbone ricocheted across my back. It hurt to sit.
Thankfully, we found a great parking spot pretty quickly once we arrived at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center, LRMC. (My only complaint about this hospital as that there are never enough parking spots.) We decided to only bring one of our bags in with us and our camera. We left our main hospital bag, pain relieving essential oils, and labor plan in the car. When we had labored with Aiden, it took a while to be admitted because they had to make sure I was in real labor and prove that my water had really broken. We figured there was no point in bringing everything in with us when we weren't positive I was dilated enough to be admitted.
However, we were ushered right into a laboring room. It surprised us, but because I was scheduled to be induced that day and was already at 41 weeks and 5 days, they had a room ready. (Unbelievably, it was the same room Aiden was born in.) It was about 1pm.
From that point, my labor escalated quickly. Ethan pulled out the peanut-shaped birthing ball out of the corner of the room for me to use, but lying on my side with the ball between my legs made my back pain excruciating. I threw up again, and got down on all fours with my forearms rested against the giant stationary birthing ball. (It had a metal base/stand that held it in place.) The nurse and Ethan tried to make me more comfortable and placed pillows beneath my knees to cushion them against the hard floor. This was the only position that made the pain bearable as the pressure in my tailbone and hips increased.
The anesthesiologist came in and asked personal health questions. He explained the pain medication options between my contractions. I equated the pain I was feeling at this point to the pain I felt with Aiden right before I got the epidural. I was having a hard time breathing through the contractions and was starting to cry out and moan, but I was still hoping to give birth naturally.
Ethan rubbed my back, played music from our Spotify playlist, and attempted to count down the contractions to help me breathe through them. With Aiden this had worked perfectly, but these contraction were unlike his. They were uneven and sometimes would piggyback on each other. Ethan would countdown to 1, but my pain level would still be increasing. Ethan encouraged me to smack the exercise ball I was hugging tightly to my chest, and it was a great catharsis and distraction. The pain was worse than when I had gotten the epidural with Aiden, and I was starting to yell through each contraction.
The hospital's birthing tub was occupied, and I had to get up to vomit again. (So maybe food wasn't the best idea. . .) As I was retching, a nurse came in and excitedly encouraged me that this was actually perfect- that what I was doing and the position I was in were excellent for labor. This was awesome encouragement despite how gross I felt. (I had peed all over the floor while throwing up. . . Perks of a weak pregnant bladder. Poor Ethan was trying to hold my hair out of my face throughout all of this. Yeah, I married a keeper.)
I got back down on the ball, and Ethan's back rubbing was too uncomfortable at this pain level. I asked him to lift up my sleep dress (I wanted to wear my own clothes while laboring this time so I could be more comfortable and have the freedom to walk around without my butt exposed in a hospital gown. However, my back labor undid all plans of hiding my butt.), and he rubbed a cold water bottle up and down my spine.
The nurses realized our baby girl had not been monitored yet, and I was so grateful when they got down on the floor with me and did their best to accommodate my laboring position. One nurse even wound up practically laying on the floor beside me to hold a monitor in place. Our little girl's heartbeat echoed loudly in the room.
I was having a hard time holding still during contractions, bending during the pain. Our poor male nurse probably worked for 20 minutes to get my IV in. He sat on the floor beside me, and every time he had the band secured around my forearm and the vein found, a contraction would start and he would have to wait to insert the needle, and he would have to start the process all over. I would scream; then thrust my arm out and say it was okay to try to place the needle again.
After a particularly long contraction, I said, "I wanna drink." The male nurse joked exasperatingly, "Me too!" We all laughed because I had meant water.
This was the beginning of the banshee hour. I became the screaming woman who outdid every laboring woman in every movie ever. . . I'm surprised I didn't break any eardrums. It was the only way I could breathe and get through the pain. I just let it all out in guttural heaves.
As they successfully placed my IV, the quiet nurse with an encouraging smile radioed my midwife, requesting her to come and provide a cervical check so we would know how dilated I was. As my yelling picked up length and volume, she stepped out and frantically told the midwife I was screaming and to come quickly. I could hear my midwife over the radio reply in a shocked voice, "She's screaming?"
Ethan hovered ever nearby to help in any way he could. During contraction respites, I tried to clearly state what I wanted/didn't what, what was helping and what wasn't. He would rub my back, stop rubbing, and change the song as I implored. He kept playing James Arthur's song Say You Won't Let Go at my requesting. When I gave birth to Aiden I kept listening to Always by Chuck Wicks. Ethan and I had "our song" while we were dating: Lady Antebellum's Just a Kiss, and I feel like Always and Say You Won't Let Go became my labor songs. (I highly recommend listening to music while laboring. Favorite songs are soothing, and they give you something to focus on.)
He continued to attempt counting through my contractions. During one contraction, he tried to encourage me as he got to 1, saying "See, the contractions letting up." I heard nurses chortling quietly in the background when I countered, "No, it's not!"
Despite the countdowns and contractions not syncing correctly, I still claim Ethan as the best birth partner in the whole world. If I can give any advice at all in this matter, whether it's your mom, best friend, cousin, sister, spouse, or doula, if you can have someone by your side, do it. Having support changes everything.
My midwife arrived and between contractions they helped me get on to the bed. I flipped on to my back only long enough for them to say my dilation had progressed to 9cm. Ethan held my hand as she checked. She said she could feel the water bag, and that I was almost completely effaced. I shouted enthusiastically, "Yeah, Baby!"
The pain in my back and tailbone was still exacerbated when lying on my back; so they tilted the head of the bed upwards that way I could face it on my knees with my arms propped above to allow room for my belly. My hands and arms sporadically went numb from the pressure. I buried my face in the pillow and kept screaming through the contractions. I wasn't trying to be dramatic or get extra attention- I simply couldn't handle the pain any other way. It also helped me time them. When I was out of breath or needed a second breath, the contraction was either ending or halfway over.
We had planned on our friend being present during the birth to take pictures, but because everything was happening so fast, she was still trying to get off work. I asked Ethan to check his phone to see if she was on her way, and for the first time in our marriage he lied and said she was. I am so grateful he lied. It gave me one less thing to worry and stress over. (Afterward, he sheepishly admitted his lie and how horrible he felt about it. I thanked him. It was what I had needed in that moment so I could stay focused.)
The enormity of the pain was destroying my will power, and I started begging for an epidural. The nurse started to say she was going to notify the anesthesiologist, when she stopped and said, "If you get the epidural, you probably won't have this baby for another couple of hours. If you don't get it, and instead have your water broken, you could have your baby within a half hour." That spark of hope fortified me to keep persevering. I had been afraid of having my water broken (It broke right away on its own with Aiden), but all the fear fled at the prospect of getting so close.
Later, Ethan told me that when I had begun asking for the epidural, he had remembered our countless conversations leading up to this moment in which I had asked him to stop me. I knew if I was going to labor naturally, when I was at my weakness I needed someone to be strong for me, and I had asked him to be just that. And he was. While I was begging for relief, he quietly shook his head at the nurse, and they gave me knew perspective on the pain. I'll forever be grateful for that. . .
Because the next half hour was one of the most amazing of my life. . .
They let me remain on my knees, and my midwife manually broke my water. It wasn't painful at all, and it gave way immediately. I have a weird fascination with water breaking- it's one of my favorite things about giving birth. I did my best to kind of see what was going on and truly enjoyed it. It wasn't the epic movie seen of a balloon popping like my first, but it was special in its own hope filled way.
A particularly rough contraction passed, and Ethan leaned down and whispered I was strong and that I could do this. It was exactly what I needed to hear. I started instinctively pushing with the pain before my midwife had given the all clear. They gently counseled me to stop and re-checked me. I was at a 10, but I wasn't entirely effaced so they cautioned me to wait. I wanted so desperately to push, but I did my best not too. They had me rock with the contractions, moving downward as the pain increased.
I had attended a birthing class beforehand, and the doula had explained that movement helps to alleviate pain while also helping the baby shift into the right positions to get down the birth canal. When I had labored with my first, I had no idea how to make progress or help speed things along. This time I felt way more equipped, and it was amazing to see my body know what to do.
Instincts took over with a force I have never experienced before, and it felt truly empowering and beautiful. God has given us bodies capable of indescribable experiences, and infuses His strength into our spirits in a beautiful blend of sovereignty and personhood.
I was given the go-ahead to push. I pushed a couple of times, and then a climax of pain surged. I felt an incredible movement within me. I felt our baby turn, and the shift caused the pressure in my tailbone to instantly retreat. It was gone. She had rotated to face the right direction. I was overjoyed and a burst of energy undergirded my next pushes.
Then, when I didn't think the pain could get any worse, her head began to crown. I can't even describe the burning and pressure, but somehow, being able to feel and understand my progress, coupled with knowing I was so close to pushing her out, made it worth it even before I had met her. A couple of more deep, unrestrained pushes and her head was out.
They immediately told me to stop pushing, and when I was allowed to push they took over; telling me when and for how long. The umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck. With precision and skill they readied her, and I was able to push that final time.
I expected it to be different. Having labored on my back lying down with an epidural during my first labor, I could not feel what was truly happening when I gave birth to Aiden. I felt the pain and the joy of seeing him, but it was entirely different. I think all labors are- no matter if they are un-medicated, medicated, at home or in a hospital, c-section, or otherwise. In some ways it makes it scary, but it's also part of the unique beauty of carrying a child.
So when I gave that final push, to my complete amazement I felt her gush out of my body in sweet relief. It felt good. It didn't hurt. With the help of my husband, amazing hospital staff, the prayers of family, and the strength of my Heavenly Father, I had already unknowingly done the hard part. She was free; it was done.
Becoming a mother with my son was absolutely life changing. When I saw him, it was everything. This feeling was similar.
They rushed her over to the heated infant bassinet, and quickly laid her on her back while putting an oxygen mask over her mouth. I turned over, and when I saw her grey tinged skin for a brief moment I sunk into defeat and worry. But in the next moment, her arms shot up into the air with hands outstretched. . . And she cried.
It felt as if the whole room and my heart sighed as one.
An amazingly kind nurse scurried about taking pictures for us as my midwife coaxed out the placenta and stitched up my second degree tear. The change in hormones caused me to shake uncontrollably (completely normal), and I was scared of dropping Liliana; so I held her briefly before they started cleaning her up and administering vaccinations. I was more terrified of the needle used to stitch me up than I was of giving birth, so my wonderful husband held my hand and distracted me with memories of us dating, transporting us back to the romance and friendship that began it all.
I bled heavier in the aftermath than my first delivery. As I was being monitored, Ethan cut Lily's umbilical cord, and the nurses recorded her measurements. She weighed 7 lbs, 15.5 oz, and was 20.5 inches long.
We enjoyed immediate skin-to-skin with my son. Because of her umbilical cord and my shaking, we were unable to do that with my daughter. But once my midwife and the nurses were finished, they brought over my beautiful baby girl and I began memorizing her. Liliana was and has remained the most alert, curious, and observant baby I have ever seen; even strangers comment on it. Her blue eyes soaked me in as she worked her mouth and tongue in hunger cues. We began nursing, and our friend arrived at the hospital.
The culmination of so much hope and joy still overwhelms me when I think of this day. It was the greatest pain I had ever experienced, and while I began taking Motrin and Tylenol the moment I was done giving birth, having experienced labor un-medicated- fulfilling that goal and realizing what I was capable of- has forever changed me. I still can't believe we only labored for 9 hours total, spending a mere 2 at the hospital.
My recovery was faster, and I didn't feel as drained and exhausted, which was a blessing from God because Lily kept us on our toes. Born at 2:59 pm, she slept only an hour by 6pm, and I got 2 stretches of sleep lasting 20 minutes by the time 4 am rolled around. She cluster fed and wanted held the entire first night (normally that happens on the second night).
Because she nursed so much the first day, my milk came in the next day at 11am. I was and still am amazed. I wanted to jump I was so excited, but we were in the middle of the hospital's infant care discharge video.
She was born Friday afternoon, September 29th, and we were discharged Sunday morning. They kept us all day Saturday due to her bilirubin levels being a little high, but the amount she ate and expelled quickly corrected that.
Saturday will always be one of my favorite days with our daughter. Aiden stayed with a friend, and Ethan and I were able to spend the whole day bonding and snuggling our precious Liliana Hope as she finally slept in gloriously long stretches. We took so many pictures and cherished every minute.
Becoming a family of 4 and mother of 2 has presented its challenges. Our birth story is unfolding into her life story. As we walk this journey together, making mistakes, losing our tempers, snuggling and resting, laughing and snapping photos and videos, learning our individual children's needs and wants, discovering their personalities, while continuing to delve into our marriage, I am overwhelmed, blessed, and so thankful.
If you made it this far, thank you. We are so thankful for the community, family, and friends who have undertaken this journey with us.
Love,
Rachel
Studio MS Photography
*up-coming articles include: the people and stories behind our children's names, along with Christmas markets, trips to France and Luxembourg, and so much more.*
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