The Birth Story

I'm not much of an informational writer, or even an avid story-teller; I'm definitely more of a get-these-feelings-off-my-chest-before-I-explode-and-maybe-throw-in-some-humor-while-I'm-at-it type.  However, due to recent events (namely, the birth of our sixth child), I realize that some semblance of a birth story is in order.  So here is my attempt at informational story-telling in the best Lisa-form that I can manage:

You've all heard birth stories before.  First off, let me assure you that I have no intention of discussing things like mucus plugs, membranes, dilation, stitches or cervixes.  Come to think of it, I'm not even sure if cervixes is a word.  Only having one myself (and rarely speaking of it), I've never needed to use the plural form.

But I digress. 

In my mind, our birth story begins around January 17th...our baby's due date.  This is the date that had been engraved in my head since the beginning of the pregnancy.  The Golden Date.  The magical date by which I would no longer be pregnant, but would be holding my babe in my arms.

Alas, it was not to be. 

For the entire week before the due date, I thought he could be born at any time.
                        Our first baby came a week early, after all.

By the day before his due date, I was certain he would be born in a matter of hours.
                        Our third baby was born the day before his due date.

And as January 17th passed us by, I thought surely he would make his appearance within the next few days.
                        Our second baby was born four days after his due date. 
                   Surely this one wouldn't wait that long?

But those four days came and those four days went, and somehow my hormonal, emotional and impatient self came to a rather shocking conclusion.

I was going to be pregnant forever.

Looking back, I can see this was slightly irrational, but I think it's pretty safe to assume that few women who are more than nine months pregnant are rational.  And despite my doubts, we did actually have a baby.  He was born on January 23rd, 2013...six days past his due date.  Being as though I, too, frequently run late for important events, I thought it best not to begrudge the little guy his untimely arrival.  He obviously takes after his Mama.

Here are the details of his birth.

Going to bed on the night of the 22nd, I was still fairly convinced that the baby would never be born.  I felt no different than any other night, except for the fact that (due to nerve pain) I was having trouble using my right leg.  Each of the four-hundred-and-twelve times I got up to use the bathroom, I performed a macabre sort of peg-leg walk through our bedroom.  Hop, drag... hop, drag... hop, drag.  The normal thirty-five steps that it takes for a pregnant lady to waddle to the toilet (yes, OCD people count their steps...especially when there are frequent trips in the dark to the same place) became more like fifty little hop-drags.  Fun.

Anyway, on one such trip at about quarter after one in the morning, I returned to bed and had a really painful contraction.  I started paying attention for real at 1:22 am, when I realized that they were coming hard and fast...only two to three minutes apart, and lasting for a minute or more.  We immediately called my Dad, who was coming to stay with the kids, called the doctor, gathered our things, and prepared to leave.  At this point, the contractions were so bad that I was sincerely hoping that my husband wouldn't have to deliver our baby in the car on the side of a dark country road in the middle of winter.  The hospital was a good half hour or so away, but mercifully, the contractions slowed down to every four minutes as soon as I was sitting in the car.  We got to the hospital without incident.

Our three youngest.

The rest of the night and early morning is kind of a blur.  Emergency room.  The trip to the labor/delivery floor.  Triage.  Being wheeled to the delivery room.  And through it all...lots and lots and lots of super-painful contractions.

I have very little to say about labor itself.

1)  It hurts.

2)  I hate it.

3)  I love epidurals.

Once I had my epidural, I was home free.  Sure, it slowed down contractions and took a lot longer, but I, for one, would trade one hour of hellish pain for three hours of peaceful rest in a heartbeat.  Wonder Woman I am not.

And then, at nearly seven in the morning, he was all of a sudden ready to be born.  He was out in just a couple of pushes, and I watched (completely painlessly...bless you, epidural) first his head, and then his entire little self slip out of my body. 

It was breathtaking.

The most amazing thing about witnessing the birth of a baby (and I've now witnessed four of my own as well as the birth of a niece and a nephew), is that moment when the top of the baby's head is clearly visible.  You can see that little head moving from side to side, just waiting to be born, and you think (somewhat stupidly), "That's a real baby!" 

The whole process of pregnancy and labor and delivery is so crazy and incomprehensible, that I wonder if we as humans are just not quite able to grasp it. 


Even though I've known all along that this little person exists, have talked to and sung to and loved him for a solid nine months, have felt his kicks and heard his heart beating, it's like I can't fully grasp the miracle that's happening inside me until I've seen it.  And then, after all that waiting and all that pain, I see the top of that tiny head, and I am acutely aware of the presence of God.  In that moment, I'm in awe of the Creator like at no other time.

Darling Baby Boy

So I know I said that I hate labor, which is true...and not true...all at the same time.  Labor is awful, but it's also the most incredible thing I've ever experienced.  The worst pain I could fathom followed by the highest elation and the biggest sense of wonder imaginable.

I gave God my body and, in return, was given the privilege to participate in one of His greatest miracles...the creation of our new baby son.

Welcome to the world, little one.






_________________________________________________________________________

A few observations and notes about our birth experience that didn't quite fit into my story:

Proud Daddy. 
I didn't get a picture of him with a Long John.

1) My wonderful hubby never leaves my side from the moment I have my first contraction until the moment we leave the hospital to come home, except for frequent trips to the cafe for food.  We love our time in the hospital together bonding with that new baby (and each other), and we've joked that we need to keep having babies because it's the only way we get a few days away.

2) During our stay, I sometimes wonder if my husband is more impressed by the hospital food than by our newborn child.  I certainly hear a lot about those hospital Long Johns and the sandwiches by the pound.

3) I can now safely say that no one has ever been pregnant forever.

4) We only make hairy babies.  This one, however, is the least hairy one we've had.

5) Our son's birth weight was 8 lbs, 0.6 oz.  This sparked a debate between nurses about whether it should be rounded down to 8 lbs even, or rounded up to 8 lbs, 1 oz.  It's documented both ways.  I, for one, am still confused.
 
6) If you aren't a personal friend, there is a good chance you will never know our baby's name.  For privacy, we don't use our kids' names on the blog, so he'll be known for now as Baby A.  I assure you, though, that it's a really cool, uncommon name that I love.  I apologize if you have OCD and can't sleep tonight until you've exhausted all names beginning with the letter A.  Do you also count your steps on the way to the bathroom?

Seven Days Ago

A foot away from me, snoozing away, lies the tiniest of miracles.

A living, breathing, nursing, pooping, and tinkling little miracle that smells of baby shampoo and slightly curdled milk, and whose cry can send me into a hormonal tailspin in a matter of seconds.

I cherish those smile-inducing sighs of contentment, and those trusting round eyes that bore into my very soul, melting my heart into a river of tears that cascades down my cheeks onto that sweet baby face.

This tiny miracle...my baby son.


Love is far too shallow a word to describe the feelings I have for you, little one...

...the warmth of your fuzzy-soft skin against my chest, and the beautiful calm that fills us both.


Priceless is far too empty a word to describe your value, sweet boy...

...to your Creator, to your Mama and Daddy, to your brothers and sisters, to the world. 


Such worth cannot be spoken, or thought, or even imagined.  

You are fearfully and wonderfully made.

The pages of your life are already fully written with your story, with the works that have been prepared for you to accomplish.  Those you will love, those you will help, those you will influence and inquire of and impact...those pages of your life are already planned and awaiting the turning of your little hands as you start out on your journey, my tiny son.

Seven days ago today, you began that journey in this great big world...outside of your safe haven beneath Mama's heart. 

Seven days ago, I first held you in my arms, and I knew you were special.  Unique.  One-of-a-kind.  A masterpiece, just like every other baby, and yet at the same time unlike any other baby that will ever be.

Seven days ago, my eyes got their first glimpse of the miracle of who you are. 

And you are astounding.

_______________________________________________________________________

Seven days ago, I finally got to meet my darling baby boy. 
But eight days ago, in some places, I could legally have killed him.

It's not lost on me that my son's last day in the womb, eight days ago, was also the day our country "celebrated" the 40th anniversary of Roe v. Wade, of which no baby has ever heard, but countless have fallen victim to.  There is little value for life in our world.  We can make a difference by loving and valuing the life of every person...no matter their difficulties or disabilities... from the first division of their beautifully created cells to the last beating of their hearts.

Crazy?

So, we did it.

We took the giant leap of faith.

Are we crazy?  I have the feeling some may think so.  I understand that it sounds crazy and irresponsible to the world in general to send your son away to a boarding school when the funds aren't in your bank account. 

Perhaps it would have been a better financial decision for our family to let the courts have him.  It would have required less trust and blind faith, that's for sure, but it also would have required leaving all the decisions about our son's future in the hands of people (albeit competent and over-worked people) that don't know our son, don't love our son, and don't really, truly care about our son's heart and his long-term healing.

We felt it was best to leave the decision-making to God, whose love for Mr. J is as incomprehensible as a galaxy full of stars.

And so, in the last few days, we began this new journey of trusting God; of stepping out in faith, and believing beyond a doubt that somehow, God will provide.  Funding, yes.  But mostly, we're trusting God to provide a measure of healing in Mr. J throughout this next year.

We're placing our son, whom we love, securely in the hands of God. 

Yesterday morning at about three o'clock, my husband, my dad, and two of the best friends my husband could ask for set out to pick our son up at Juvenile Detention and to transport him to the facility.  It's about a twelve hour drive, and no one expected Mr. J to be compliant.  In fact, because of his recent violent behavior while incarcerated, everyone feared the worst.  I have to say, though, that God showed up in an incredible way.

And so I share the story of the first miracle of our journey, although I'm going to let my husband tell it, as written to our group of prayer partners last night:

Hello friends, family and prayer warriors,

Forgive me if this rambles a bit or doesn't always make sense - I got about 2 hours of sleep last night.

I don't know how else to say it - we experienced a miracle today.  From the moment J was released from Juvenile Detention to the moment I said goodbye, we had NOT ONE issue the entire 12 hour trip.  I'll say it again - NOT ONE!!!  After all of the violent and assaultive episodes of the past 4 months, there wasn't even a single attitude problem, let alone a violent act.  Considering the God we serve, though, we shouldn't really be surprised.  According to several facebook messages and emails, God was waking people up at various times all over West Michigan, just as the trip was beginning, to cover us with prayer.  On top of all of this, it just so happened that the detention center employee assigned to help J as he was being released was R.  You may remember that R was the believer who prayed for J and talked him through an angry outburst during a visit a few weeks back.  It was no accident that he just happened to be with J this morning.

All of us on the trip were impressed with the facility and staff.  It is absolutely founded on rock solid Biblical principles.  They believe that they are not the ones to help these boys but it is the Holy Spirit working through the Word of God that will accomplish it.  Rather than spending a year away from God in a faithless institution, J is going to be absolutely surrounded by the Word of God and strong men of faith.  It will not be an easy place for him as they require complete obedience in everything, even down to the exact way each student's bed is to be made.  Pretty soon, possibly tomorrow, he begins physical exercise and work detail. 

Please continue to pray for J.  I am sure he is completely terrified right now.  After he said goodbye, he began his time at the facility with Julio, a staff member.  J attempted to manipulate Julio with lies about us, deflecting all blame to others, intimidation (which, considering Julio is built like a Sherman Tank, proved fruitless), tears, and bragging about being tough by assaulting police officers.  This manipulation did not work on Julio, who has seen it all before.  Julio deeply challenged him after J reported that he was already saved.  These challenges actually brought out some real emotion and sadness, which I haven't seen or heard in a long time. 

Please pray for safe travels home tomorrow for four very tired and joyful guys.  We can't get over the fact that God showed up in such a huge way.  I am full of hope because J is where the Lord wants him right now.  After the events of today, I firmly believe it and have more peace than I have had during this whole ordeal.

Thank you for praying.  Please don't stop!  Though we finally can rest a little knowing where J will be, this is only the very beginning of the long road to healing. 

In Christ,
Scott

So that's where it stands right now.  And have I mentioned that I adore my God-fearing husband?  I love him like crazy!

And speaking of crazy...to those who think we are crazy to trust some "supernatural being" with providing for our family and healing our son, I would challenge that you simply do not know the God we serve.  His goodness, His mercy, His depth of love and faithfulness...they are unfathomable.  It's impossible to "foolishly" trust in Him, as long as you are walking in His will.  I would absolutely love to introduce you to the Almighty God of the Bible, and specifically to His son Jesus.  Just drop me an email at mamaandmissm@hotmail.com, and I would be happy to explain our brand of crazy to you!




  

Laughter, Hope and Anguish

We had a really nice weekend.  In the past few months, there have been times that I've wondered if we'll ever have a peaceful, happy life again...and this weekend was just a beautiful promise that there is still life and joy and happiness that can happen alongside all the heartache.  We just have to try a little bit harder to find it, trust the guiding hands of friends and family who love us, and then hold on like crazy and let the joy swallow us up for a while.

Our kids need it.
Our marriage needs it.
My heart needs it.

Saturday we had a beautiful visit from good friends, who made a long drive just to be with us and to love on us.  Our united army of children and good conversation made it impossible to dwell on ugly things, and later we joined with more friends as we watched our girls ride horses, held our boys up to pat velvety noses, and assisted in carving pumpkins and mixing hot chocolate and warming little hands by the fire.  We laughed and talked with friends, shivering in the cold, and for a moment here and there almost forgot that one of our family is missing.

We went to church and worshipped with many of those same friends the next day.  When we walked through the halls of God's house, the church came alive with the support and love and hugs of shared burdens, as it has every week during this season of our lives.  We are so very loved.  The afternoon was spent in fellowship as well, eating and laughing and talking and just being surrounded by so many who, while they can't understand what we're going through, are choosing to walk alongside of us.  They're such an incredible blessing to our family.

It was a weekend of hope.  A much-needed time to get away from the constant barrage of phone calls and emails and dead ends and closed doors.  A time to remember that God is good and gives us good things and will never abandon us in our suffering. 

We are not alone.

And yet, this morning I awoke with a sharp pain in my heart and with tears welling in my eyes.  I'm feeling the loss of my son greater today than I've felt in a long time.  I've spent weeks walking around in shock and disbelief, running on adrenaline, numb to the pain of it all, simply surviving from moment to moment.  And today the numbness is gone, the anger and the injustice and the shock are melting away.  Today the anguish is setting in.

I'm losing my son.

God, please perform a miracle in the heart and soul of my son.  Remind him of the joy our family has shared, of the thousands of good times and the laughter and the traditions and adventures.  Teach him, Lord, that a lifetime without close relationships - without family, without friends, without You - is empty and meaningless, and that he will only ever be complete and happy when he learns to love and trust.  Please infiltrate his little cell at Juvenile Detention, wreak havoc on his heart and soul, and leave him aching with the desire to try.  Lord, please give me my son. 

Miracle

I'm not feeling so well these days.  It never ceases to amaze me how I can actually be jealous of pregnant moms who get morning sickness, but seriously, I am jealous.  How wonderful it would be to wake up each morning, feel like crap for a few hours, throw up, and then get on with my day!  Instead, I feel nauseous day in and day out, never actually "getting" sick, but feeling sick all the time. 

I'm trying to take it one day at a time, moment to moment, knowing that this is temporary...as in finished along with the first trimester (hopefully!).  If this pregnancy follows the pattern of the other three, in only four-and-a-half more weeks, I'll start to feel like myself again; although right now, that feels about as out-of-reach as the moon.

The one thing I keep reminding myself is that this will all be worth it in the end.  I've never looked at any of my biological children and thought, "Man, all that sickness and that restless sleep, having to go to the bathroom eighteen times each night, gaining all that weight that I worked so hard to take off, back pains and swollen ankles and then hours of agonizing labor...and this is what I got?!"

Nope, they placed my baby in my arms, I fell instantly in love,
and none of it ever crossed my mind again.

And I'm sure it will be the same this time.

Hanging onto that promise right now, and also to the thought of the tiny human being God is knitting together inside my body. 

The miracle of it all never ceases to amaze me. 

Yesterday marked our littlest peanut's seventh week of life (from conception: I'm technically nine weeks pregnant out of forty, the way they figure it).  In honor of this milestone, I did a little research (found here):

Week 9: Fingers and Toes form You are in week nine of pregnancy. (seven weeks from conception) The embryo has grown to measure 30 mm (1.2 inches) in length. The fingers and toes are well defined. Cartilage and bones begin to form. The upper lip as well as the nose tip is being formed. The tongue begins to develop and the larynx is developing. The eyelids are developed, although they stay closed for several months. The main construction of the heart is complete. During this week of pregnancy your baby is now swimming round in a little bag of fluid. The arms and legs have lengthened. The fingers and toes are forming, but are still joined by webs of skin. They can flex their elbows and wrists. They are growing eyelids as well as forming their anus. The embryo is protected by the amniotic sac that is filled with fluid.  Inside the embryo swims and moves gracefully. The embryo is now about 1 inch long. During this time of development, the baby's head appears much larger than the body because the brain is growing very rapidly. Brain waves can now be measured.  The main construction of the heart is complete. Through its parchment thin skin, the baby's veins are clearly visible. During this week the ears, the teeth and the palate are continuing to form.

In seven short weeks (at only about an inch long), our baby has a beating heart, brain waves, fingers and toes, and a completely different genetic code from any other human being that has ever existed.  Fully alive, completely unique, being knitted together at this very moment in the image of the Creator. 

Nothing but the hand of God could perform such wonders.

And if being sick and uncomfortable is the role I have to play for the privilege of being part of this miracle, then I will gladly endure it the best I can.  

I just really hope the next four-and-a-half weeks fly by!

Psalm 139:13

For you created my inmost being;  you knit me together in my mother’s womb.