Every birth has its very own story; each unique and filled with pride and joy—each profound and life transforming—and each impossible for a mother to forget for her entire earth's journey!
Asa was born at 3:22 am on March 12, 2013; his arrival came much later than anticipated, but lacked no splendor. His earth side debut was a magnificent one that amasses the details of the love he was created in.
Asa is the first baby born to Paul and me. We each brought three wonderful children to our family from our first marriages; two girls and one boy from both of us. Paul and I both knew we wanted more children as soon as possible so we wasted no time after our wedding to do our part! Paul has promised to never let me forget how much money I spent on over the counter pregnancy test when we were trying to conceive—he’s done a good job of not breaking that promise. At one point, he joked he was going to have to give me an allowance for the tests! Fortunately it didn’t take too long to get a positive (of course, that’s another day I’ll never forget!) and only a few more test to convince me it was true!
Paul knew from before conception, actually before our wedding, he was marrying what he calls a “hippy”, I don’t know about all that, but he knew what he was getting himself into with his strong-willed, against the grain wife, and he knew if we had a baby of our own it would be born at home. His first three births were cesarean and mine were a combination of traditional hospital and home births—with home birth being the most beautiful and the gold standard. I’m so blessed that our hearts are one in the same and that he is such a supportive husband who not only supports emotionally but does his own research and fact gathering! He was always onboard, no questions asked!
Before pregnancy, I did proudly boast of what a wonderful pregnant person I was, how I adored pregnancy and felt more whole pregnant than when not, and how pregnancy never slowed me down, and how I never got tired of being pregnant. Perhaps I forgot to take into account that my last pregnancy was nearly six years prior and I wasn’t in my twenty’s anymore? This pregnancy was by far more physically challenging than I ever could have prepared myself for, and when we saw 40 weeks pregnant come and go, I was overwhelmed; all three of my first babies came sometime in week 39. When week 41 got here, I was done! All the ailments of a pregnant body ensued me: heart burn, back ache, swollen fingers and toes that fell asleep, I could no longer wear my wedding ring, in fact, I could barely walk without excruciating back pain, you name it, I likely had it . Fortunately I was so blessed that since we expected a baby sometime in week 39, Paul had started staying close to home (I mean he would only leave if he could be home in ten minutes) and he picked up all the slack (I mean he did nearly everything).
My philosophy on pregnancy and birth is “Leave It Alone”! It is divinely created by our sovereign Creator—it cannot be adjusted to be any more perfect than the way He made it. I am a supporter of letting your baby pick its birthday with no intervention, and of this, I also proudly imparted. But on Sunday, March 10, 2012, (week 41) I broke down. (By the way, this wasn’t the first break down.) Over the last couple of weeks, Paul had grown accustomed to wiping my tears and listening to me melt in total despair. My labor had seemed to start and stop at least twice over the last week, so Sunday morning when I woke up, still pregnant with no immediate signs of a nearing baby, I was devastated, not to mention anti-social. I decided to skip church and let my husband and the kids go without me. I couldn’t bear the thought of answering another, “When are you going to have that baby?”, “Baby yet?”, “How long will you go before your doctor does something?”, “Still here?” , “You haven’t even dropped yet!” … any mother who has gone over her estimated due date can empathize with these nails-on-chalkboard statements. While the kids and Paul were at church, I was lying in bed, soaked in tears, when my midwife (affectionately nick-named Birth Fairy God Mother) text to just check on me. I finally just let go and told her I was done. Up until that point, I had not wanted a cervical check; for a variety of medical reasons, but mostly because what’s the purpose? You can walk around at 2 centimeters dilated for weeks; it’s not clear indication of when labor will start. After I broke down, she offered to swing by on her way home from church and check me and I was glad she offered. I’m not sure my pride would have let me ask yet, but I was mentally and emotionally ready. She also offered to do a membrane sweep, which I decided I would accept or decline based on the cervical check. I checked in with Paul and he agreed that if I was ok with a membrane sweep, it was within our boundaries of natural. Paul and the kids made it home from church and Lucy made it to our house shortly after. I was ready, this was it, let’s make things happen was my attitude and do not be disappointed by a cervical check was my mantra, after all I knew, it wasn’t the end all be all of labor indication!
I was a 2.5 and 50% effaced, baby was also still very high. Really, really…fourth baby, and forty one weeks pregnant….sigh. Yes, I accepted the membrane sweep and prayed that it would make something happen...soon! Before she left, Lucy sat on my bed and let me cry into her arms, which I fully took advantage of! She offered to check again the next day and repeat the sweep if needed. For the rest of the afternoon I cramped and even saw some evidence of more cervical thinning (YAY) and by evening the cramps had turned out a few contractions but by Monday morning NOTHING...NOTHING! That’s when I decided I was going to get my baby! Stubborn was a word I refused to use because I knew it wasn’t true. This baby was simply cozy and really loved being inside of mommy—I just needed to encourage!
I defiantely told Paul, “Today, today, I am having this baby!” Walking, squatting, sitting on my fit ball, and employing the natural method that got me pregnant in the first place, had all been a part of my regiment for weeks, but I thought if I added some grueling hills to my walk, some pot holes, use of a breast pump, AND another sweep—that would do it! That would surely do it. I decided if it didn’t, I was giving up and carrying the baby until it was 18!
My appointment with Lucy was at 5 pm and right afterwards we had a basketball event with our girls. Determined to get things moving before my efforts had to be put on pause for, you know, life, I spent all day walking, pumping, squatting, walking, pumping, squatting, repeat. When I saw Lucy again, I was tired and felt defeated because really I didn’t feel much different than I had the day before. She checked me and I was a 4, a “little thinner”, but baby was still pretty high. Hmph…labor attempts on pause and off to basketball we go!
While at the girls’ basketball event I could feel Paul trying to do his sixth sense thing on me. He kept scoping me out for signs of change. I kept giving him the look of, “Just give up, would ya!” When the event was over, I requested Thai food. I’m the only one in our family that loves it and I usually don’t make a fuss for it, but I figured even if the silly old wives tale of spicy food or curry doesn’t work, I deserved it! Haha. We grabbed some take out for me and headed home with frozen pizza for everyone else. It was after 8 pm by now and no major signs of change—a little cramping but that was something I was used to for weeks and I had learned not to trust it.
I could see in all of Paul’s being he was tired too. I had wore him out today. I was used to him picking up all the slack, but tonight I could tell he was a little over it too. Somehow we got the kids all in bed by around 10 pm. I had begun contracting but was afraid to lead Paul on another wild goose chase so I didn’t say anything. But by 11 pm I knew things were actually progressing, so I finally spoke up and let him know I was feeling pretty confident we might actually have a baby sooner rather than later! He timed a few contractions and all of a sudden there was an immediate change in his countenance. Suddenly, my husband that I know and love so well emerged, from his cocoon of emotional protection and he was washed with a wave of determination and energy. I let my best friend (and amazingly talented photographer) know that I was ready for her to come and felt sure she wasn’t going to leave without pictures of a new baby and I let Lucy know I was finally confident that she wouldn’t leave without catching a baby. (I had been in close contact all day, but very cautious, up until this point, to tell her, “Yes, you can come now.”)
Paul and I began preparing the house, well mostly Paul, and I just walked around occasionally stopping for contractions, offering emotional support to Paul! Hahaha, he had made himself some sort of mental list that included laundry, kitchen, light bulb replacement, etc. I don’t really even know where this list came from, but I liked it because it exemplified my husband—he shines in action, it’s one of his awesome character traits! Erin (best friend) showed up and we visited for a while as my contractions were picking up but not intense. Shortly after Erin arrived, Lucy arrived, and shortly after Lucy arrived, my water broke! Now, this has never happened to me so early in labor. I was accustomed to my water breaking near 8, 9 centimeters and by then I was usually already in the water or in too deep of labor to care. My water breaking in the middle of the kitchen, when I wasn’t even done just chilling out totally cramped my style! I felt completely at the mercy of how willing I was to put up with the constant leak—which was pretty much not at all. I was super whiney about it too! I’m sure Lucy and Dana (Lucy’s awesome apprentice and soon to be one amazing midwife) were saying, “Get over it!” to themselves but since they are so sweet they just looked at me liked they loved me despite my frustration over broken water! Hahahaha
Since the constant leak was not my thing I decided getting in the birth tub was probably best for everyone, but I wanted to know where I was before I got in (even though I know this is never a good idea—it almost always leads to some sort of false deduction about labor). I was at a 5 and the baby was still really high. A part of me wanted to wait and not get in the water just yet since I now thought it was going to be a much, much longer night than I had anticipated, but the uncontrollable leak was enough to convince me otherwise, even despite my disappointment. It was into the early morning hours, probably around 2 am, and I was tired. I had exhausted myself the day before trying to convince this baby to come. I began resting as much as possible between contractions—successfully falling asleep a little. Everyone but Paul had quietly slipped into the other room and it was just Paul and me in our quiet, dimmed bedroom. I noticed things had intensified a little and I now wanted Paul to touch me when I was contracting—I needed his presence, his touch, his voice, to keep me focused--to keep me grounded. The back pain that had befriended me early in my pregnancy and latched on like a leach made its existence known in labor and I soon needed Paul in the water to put pressure on my back. By this point, I might have been in the water for about 45 minutes.
This is where things get sketchy for me. I seem to remember repositioning a few times, trying to find the best way to alleviate the discomfort in my low back and keep a hold of myself during contractions, which now seemed to give me very little rest in between. I remember being lost somewhere between my husband and my labor –both of them fighting hard for me. I could hear Paul talking, undoubtedly reminding me to breathe through it or reminding me I could do it, but I honestly don’t remember what he was saying. It didn’t matter, his voice simply kept me...there. Paul sat in the water, back against the tub with his legs opened and I faced him on my knees, and leaned into his body. I wrapped my arms around his neck while my head rested on his shoulder. I stayed here and I almost remember whispering to him how hard it was getting—but maybe I only whispered in my heart. Rest in between contractions disappeared and all of a sudden my body was fighting the urge to push. Only one hour, or so, before I was at a 5 and the baby was still high—the thought, “Could this really be?” rolled through my head but two or three more contractions of fighting the urge to push and I knew I had to find the strength to call for Lucy. Somehow I managed to do so with the few seconds of breath I had between contractions.
I don’t know how long it was from the time I called for Lucy to the time Asa crowned; it seemed less than ten minutes to me. I remember feeling that familiar ring of fire burn but thinking I still had some work to do to get his head completely delivered. When Lucy said his head was out I was joyfully surprised. My heart knew this baby was going to have a head full of dark hair so I reached down and felt beautiful, soft hair flowing in the water! I was immediately determined…despite the pain and the split second thought of, "Take it slow."; I wanted to meet this person that was growing inside of me for so long. I wanted to bring him to the water and see that beautiful face! Still facing my husband on my knees, I seized his strong shoulders, and drawing on every fiber of resolve I had and pulling what more strength I needed from him, I pushed with all that I had left! Oh that euphoric moment when their soul emerges from your body and what had been one for so long instantly becomes two!!! As we brought the baby (gender unknown until right now) to the water, he presented himself proudly and I think I noticed he was a boy before I even saw his sweet face! Seconds later he affectionately peed on his papa!
The next moments are like a photograph zeroed in on a crystal clear spot with the surrounding image blurred. Everything around me is hazy, no one else has a presence, except my husband and our son. Paul and I seemed to melt into each other, suspending this new life between us. He is perfect seemed to resonate piercingly amidst our silence. We rested in this jubilation for several moments—until his life cord that connected us as one ceased and he was his own. Paul then got out of the water and into dry clothes in preparation for the honors of Asa’s first moments as a single being. I had only a few moments left with him physically connected to me. I cherished them and I used them for just us…I remember no one else except him and me. Then, it was just...me. Paul proudly and without timidity separated us—and with a gentle departing kiss and an “I love you” the two of them disappeared--Father and Son.
As I began the process of delivering the life organ that connected my son to me for those 41 long weeks, I caught a glimpse of Paul entering each of the childrens' rooms, mightily carrying a surprise, wrapped only in a towel. My heart filled with delight knowing that they would each be stirred from their slumber to such beautiful news, “We have a baby brother!”
Before long everyone in the house was up and around and we basked in our world of elation, beaming over the new one. And just as dawn broke, we all fell asleep, thanking God for his gift.
"It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light and winter in the shade" ~ Charles Dickens
