Memory of a Miracle..........................

Yesterday, was my baby's birthday. I wanted to share the story I wrote about the day of her birth yesterday, but couldn't locate the file. I finally (actually, Mister told me where it was) found it, as you will see below. Enjoy!

In the early hours before daybreak, April 12, 1989, an arriving miracle disrupted my peaceful dreams, delivering a slight twinge of pain. So slight in fact, I thought it might be wishful thinking or perhaps my imagination. But no! There it was again! This time waking me enough to make me aware of an additional sign. I lumbered out of bed, as quickly as my misshapen body allowed, and padded into the bathroom. A surge of excitement coursed through me. This was to be the day! The day my youngest child would enter the world!
Though daylight was still several hours away, the euphoria I was feeling chased away my sleepiness. I returned to bed to share the good news with my sleeping husband when another aspect of this miracle occurred to me. My husband, a long- haul semi-driver, was normally gone for two to three weeks at a time. I had been very worried that he would not be home to share in the birth. Not only was he home, but it was also his birthday; what a special bond he and his child would forever share! I attempted to rouse my husband by telling him that I had a very special birthday planned. He mumbled something like “that’s nice, but can’t it wait awhile?” and drifted back to sleep. After trying to pique his interest without much success, I decided to begin my preparations without him.
On my way upstairs, I put a load of laundry in the washer, and grabbed the soup from the freezer. After putting the soup in the crock-pot to thaw, I got out bread for sandwiches as well as the mixer to make a birthday cake. Yes! I was having a baby, but we had planned a home birth, and in addition to our three other children (his, mine, and soon to be ours), we planned to have nine adults attend the birth. I was brought up to always have food for your guests, and cooking would help the time go by.
By six thirty the cake was in the oven and the daycare families were starting to arrive. I ran a group daycare home, which means I cared for up to twelve children at a time, with an assistant when more than six children were in attendance. It was wonderful to watch the excitement spread as one child shouted out the news to the children arriving. Having gone through the ups and downs of pregnancy with me, it was as if the soon -to - be addition was part of their family, too. In between arriving children, I began to make phone calls to our “guests,” to tell them today was a great day for a BIRTH-day party.
The smell from the baking cake finally enticed my husband out of bed, and when my own children woke up I told them that they could skip school if they wanted, to help me give birth to their sibling. By the look on their face one might have thought Santa had made a mid-year visit. My oldest (then ten) went to make sure the baby things were ready, while my middle child (then eight), began to taste test the lunch I had prepared. I guess that each of us handle excitement in a different way! I have always maintained that my children are my pride and joy; _____makes me proud with all she endeavors, and _____can always make me laugh! This particular morning was no different! By eight thirty, breakfast was finished, and the school age daycare children were off to school. The cake was frosted, (yes, ________ had given it his taste test approval) and both my assistant and my mid-wife had arrived. I guess it was time for me to switch gears and get serious about delivering this baby. Leaving the daycare duties in my assistant’s responsible hands, I went downstairs to the family room with the midwife to see how labor was progressing.
Since I had not had any “real” pain, I was first surprised and then began to panic when the midwife announced I was dilated to SIX! Only four to go, and I was still waiting for the baby’s Godmother and my still photographer to arrive. When I announced I was having a home birth, and the requests to participate began to pour in, I decided the best course of action would be to give everyone attending an assignment. Not only would a specific task provide them with a role in the delivery, it would also keep everyone from stepping on one another’s toes. I wrote up a birth plan in which I outlined my hopes for the day, along with everyone’s “jobs.” In this way we would all begin the day on the “same page,” our focus on the impending birth. I had someone to support my children, someone to take video, as well as two people to take still pictures. There would be someone capturing events in the journal I had been keeping for the baby. In addition, I had a (female) friend providing labor support so my husband could enjoy the experience without responsibility. Hadn’t he done enough already? The plan was for him to assist in the delivery when the time came. Can you tell I enjoy being “in control” of things? This is pretty amusing, considering that the guest of honor, not yet born, was really the one in charge.
Up to this point he or she seemed very unimpressed with all of my plans. I continued to have minimal discomfort, and yet I felt ready to push. There was no way I would do this, because everyone had not arrived. As I went more inside of myself to slow down labor, the tension in the room picked up. At one point I said to my husband “go out and get them,” as if the people we were waiting for were just out in the driveway waiting to come in. Bless his insight, he merely said “Okay,” and went up the stairs to do as I asked instead of rationally explaining he had no control over their arrival.
I began to slowly pace, as I rubbed my swollen belly. _____ came up to me (munching potato chips) to inquire, “Mom, why are you walking like that?” “Because I can’t run” was my terse reply. I have a vague recollection of _______ being swooped out of my path; I’m sure so someone could explain to him that now was not a good time to “bother” mom with lots of questions. I continued my pacing in peace for a moment, and then the phone rang. It was my former husband wanting to know “how things were going.” I told him the kids were fine as I silently nodded to my labor partner that another contraction was beginning. She in turn reported to the videographer that I was having a contraction, while talking on the phone to my ex-husband! Getting divorced had not severed our unspoken communication bond, and I believe he had picked up on the tension the children (and I) were feeling. Once reassured things were fine, he was able to go back to his day. I did not tell him I was in labor, wanting the news to come from his children. This way he would be able to express his happiness at their excitement, instead of feeling awkward in the moment. The conversation lasted just slightly longer than the contraction, and as I hung up the phone, I remembered it was Wednesday, and Wednesday was story hour day at the library. Someone went upstairs to make sure the daycare children were ready to leave for story hour, and they found baby’s Godmother at the top of the stairs. “Good!” I said, “Now I can push this baby out.” With those words, the tension in the room increased, the big moment growing ever closer.
As everyone gathered around the bed, my labor partner and I began to work with my contractions, like a well-oiled machine designed to push the baby out. There were incredible comments like “It’s a girl! It’s a boy! It’s hair! And lots of it!” These comments would “pop” the tension for a moment, and made everyone feel an intricate part of the process. ________ said, “Oh mom! It’s beautiful!” Later that night, when things had calmed down, she was to replace that statement with, “Oh mom! It was the grossest thing I have ever seen, but I didn’t want to say anything to upset you.” See why I refer to her as my pride? As the tension mounted, things became a bit overwhelming for ________, and he began to cry. I gathered him to my side and asked him to help me with my breathing. We began in unison “hee hee hoooo, hee hee hooo,” but _______ soon increased his speed. As I instructed him to slow down, before he either hyperventilated or passed out, everyone, including _______, began to laugh and the crisis passed. My oldest snuggled him up to her side, and I went back to the work at hand.
Timing is a crucial aspect of the birth process. At the point where the baby’s head was ready to come out, the midwife instructed me to stop pushing for a moment. I can remember thinking to myself “I can push if I want to, and no one can stop me.” I was so inside of myself, focusing on baby’s descent, that I wasn’t aware the statement had been expressed out loud! Thinking back on it, I am amazed at the concentration I was able to muster in that room full of people. My awareness was centered solely on my labor support and the baby. The connection with my still unborn child is one definitely hard to explain, and yet very real indeed. As I mentally encouraged my child to descend, I was rewarded with continuing contractions and increasing pressure, a sure sign this portion of our journey was coming to a close - - an ending that was very much a beginning. As the midwife calmly said, “Okay, give me just a little push,” the room grew silent. After reaching down and touching the top of my child’s head, I pushed, barely noticing the burning sensation that accompanied the birth of the head. With the head out, a great relief washed over me, and I felt it was the perfect time for a nap. Everyone else disagreed with me, and in unison urged me to push one more time. For the past nine months I believed the baby to be a girl, and now we would find out if I had been right. Everyone held his or her breath as I gathered up my remaining strength, took a deep breath, and pushed. Baby slid out of my body into daddy’s waiting hands. As he proclaimed, “It’s a girl!” a collective shout rang out from the crowd as if we had indeed scored the winning touchdown! Immediately the mood in the room went from one of tension to one of celebration. Miss _____________ did not seem to mind the noise at all. She simply looked around, checking out her surroundings, occasionally stopping to pose for the camera.
As I cradled my newborn daughter in my arms, I pondered the miracle of life, and how each of us would never be the same after today’s experience. As we had worked together with a common goal, a special bond had developed, held together by the new life “we” had delivered safely into the world. Shortly after _________'s birth, we sealed this bond with a ‘Blessing cup’ ceremony, in which we gave thanks for her life, expressed hope for her future, and reveled in the arrival of our miracle.
Every single thing I hoped and dreamed about my birth experience became reality. The few things I had worried about worked out as if planned, including the day care children leaving for story hour just as labor was getting intense; Baby being born by the time they returned an hour and a half later. This has to be thought of as something greater than mere coincidence! If lingering doubts regarding the validity of miracles remain, closely observe the world around us. Ponder the determination of a baby learning to walk. Over and over she takes that first step, which often results in a tumble, until finally figuring out how to balance her round belly over her chubby legs - - and make it safely across the room from mommy’s arms to daddy’s waiting ones. Share the joy of a couple having spent seventy-five years loving one another, during the good times, and the BAD! Note the timing of an unexpected kind word, just when it is most needed. Be on the lookout for your own personal miracles, just waiting to be discovered, and enjoy!