Posted in Family Life

In honor of the fact that my newest son is now six weeks old, and because I have had a number of requests for it (yes, Lyn, this is for you!), I am going to share my fifth baby's birth story.

My four previous birth experiences varied widely, so I really had no idea what to expect this time.  I wasn't even sure if I had a better chance of going into labor before my due date or after.  Two of my children had been born "early", two "late", so I had a fifty-fifty chance either way.  (As it turns out, the scales tipped in favor of going after my due date--not what I had been hoping for.)  Each delivery itself had been very different as well.  I was induced with my first baby, which if given the choice I would not do again (it's much more intense than natural labor, at least for me).  My second baby came after my having to be on bed-rest for six weeks because of pre-term labor--but the birth itself was fairly easy.  My third child was the nightmare delivery--she was born in posterior presentation (facing up), which is not a pleasant way to have a baby.  My fourth baby came after fourteen hours of labor....'nuf said on that one.  So, early on in my fifth pregnancy, I began praying that if God willed, I would have a quick, easy labor and delivery.  I also happened to be close friends with a real, honest-to-goodness prayer warrior.  I mean, when this lady prays, things happen.  She and her sons began praying fervently for me and the baby as the time for the birth drew nearer.  Still, I really didn't know what to expect this time.

For the last three weeks of my pregnancy, I had been having frequent "nuisance contractions".  Actually, these kind of mild contractions are the only truly consistent thing about each of my pregnancies.  I was just sure that I would go into labor anytime.  At 37 weeks, I began dialating, and by week 40, I was more than two centimeters dialated.  I eventually became very tired of waking up each morning thinking "Today could be the day."

Two days after my due date, we made a visit to the hospital because I was having quite a few mild, fairly painless contractions.  After being examined, I was told that I was still only about 2.5 centimeters along.  The midwife advised us to go home and get some rest.  My husband took the next day off from work so that I could rest, and by about ten o'clock that night, I began having some occasional moderately strong contractions.  I took a bath at 10:30, then went to bed.  I woke up at just before midnight with a very strong contraction, and then another came soon after.  At just after 12 am, the contractions closed in at about two minutes apart and were very strong.  At 12:15, I woke up my husband, who called the hospital to let them know it was definitely "the time".  He called again on our way to the hospital to ask them to have a wheelchair ready at the door--there was no way I was going to be able to walk anywhere, let alone all the way to the elevator (my husband had to help me get out of the car and into the wheelchair).  By the time I was finally settled into a birthing room, I was eight centimeters dialated and entering transition (that was at around 1:45am).  After about five minutes of pushing, my fifth child and third son made his entrance into this world.  That was at 2:17 on the morning of January 22nd.  He was a beautiful, healthy baby boy, my biggest yet at 7lbs. 13 oz.  The entire experience of his birth was such an answer to prayer, and I felt the Lord's presence throughout it.

Having a two hour labor certainly wasn't what I expected.  But it sure was a blessing.  In fact, I consider it a miracle.  But then, aren't all births miracles?