I’ve been procrastinating writing this post because how do you put something as life-changing as a birth into words? Writing both Felix & Teddy’s birth/adoption stories was just as tough- I’ve always been good with words, but finding *the right* words to express the monumental experience for each of our three boys… it’s a challenge, even for this loquacious mama.

I thought I was prepared for birth- I wasn’t afraid, I was actually excited to experience labor & delivery. Armed with all the research I could manage on natural childbirth, I thought I knew what could/likely would happen throughout, and tried my best to hold expectations with open hands. Needles & medical procedures in general really freak me out, so I planned for an unmedicated birth because the thought of an epidural freaked me out more than the idea of labor pains.

My friend Katelyn advised me a few months beforehand that the best possible thing I could do for myself is get used to surrendering my plans to whatever the Lord had in store. That the more I fought my body or the process, the harder it would be and the longer it would take. I thought I knew what she meant and thought I was ready to roll with the punches… and then I was met with 60 hours of labor, and all my best-laid plans went out the door.

The story

I woke up at 3am on Saturday, June 22 and knew immediately that labor was starting. Nothing too painful, but they were acute enough that I was able to start timing them. Laying in bed, I started mentally piecing together the day, that we’d need to take Felix over to his buddy’s house where he’d stay while we were in the hospital, that we’d need to call my Dad to come hang with Teddy, etc.

Oh, and I needed to *finally* back up a folder of family photos to the cloud. That was important.

Contractions petered out around 9 or 10 so we decided to go for a long family walk to hopefully get things moving again, which they did on-and-off over the next few hours. We ran a few errands (things I do not recommend: going to the DMV while you’re in labor) and tried to tie up any loose ends we could, timing contractions as they came and went.

At 11pm on Saturday, contractions became regular again, and I labored all night with things getting more intense as the hours passed. I only managed to get 45 minutes of sleep that night, and come morning, I hoped we were only a few hours off from heading to the hospital. I wanted to labor at home for as long as possible, and Matt’s parents graciously agreed to come over right away to hang with our kiddos so Matt could stay with me.

I’d read up on how labor “should” progress… and things weren’t going by the book. Contractions were longer and more intense when I was laying down, not close enough together to warrant going to the hospital. When I got up and went for walks up and down our neighborhood, contractions were closer together but shorter. It was like a yo-yo. Walk, lay down, walk, lay down. It was like my body couldn’t figure out whether it was actually progressing, and I was starting to feel really discouraged.

We put the kids to bed that night and told my Dad we’d call him when we were ready to head to the hospital, and Matt and I tried to lay down to see if we could sleep. And that’s when things got really intense- contractions were 2-3 minutes apart, 2-3 minutes long, and I could no longer talk/stand/whatever through any of them. It became obvious pretty quickly we needed to head for the door, so we called my Dad and grabbed our bags. I called my midwife practice and let them know we were on the way.

Once we were at the hospital, contractions were just as intense- I was SO sure I was going to get good news once they checked dilation.

But after almost 48 hours of labor, I was only at 4 cm. I felt so defeated. I was exhausted, I’d only had about an hour of sleep over the last two days, and if it had taken THIS long to get to 4 cm, how much longer would it take to get to 10? And then once I arrived at 10cm, how was I going to have any energy to push? I was worried I’d be too exhausted to deliver on my own and end up needing a C-section.

My midwife & nurse were so kind and patient- I knew they could see how torn I was was about wanting to stay the course. “Prodromal labor is a form of torture,” said my midwife. That alone was so encouraging, to know that this wasn’t exactly “standard” and that I wasn’t being a total baby. I hated that I might have to abandon my plans for an unmedicated birth, but I wanted Baby Spring to arrive safely, and I was beginning to see that the smoothest road to delivery would require some sort of rest for me… which was going to be impossible in my present state.

I eventually decided to go ahead with an epidural to allow me to get some sleep, and as an actual needle-phobe, it was a special kind of hell having to sit there with my back exposed as the anesthesiologist got to work. By 3am (on Monday morning, at this point), I was numb and we were able to grab a few hours of sleep. Matt later told me he’d hoped I’d make the decision I did because of how hard it was to see me in so much pain, but he wanted to give me space to make a decision I felt at peace with. Love that man so much.

At 7am I was woken up when the nurse shift transitioned, and my new nurse explained she’d be introducing Pitocin to help keep things moving along. Our birth photographer Emily Gerald was also there, she was such a Godsend! While Matt was there helping me remember to breathe, Emily kept telling me how well I was holding up. This girl doesn’t pull punches, so her encouragement meant a lot.

At some point, my midwife Lex determined that Baby Spring was in a slightly awkward position with his head tilted to one side (“like he’s talking on a phone” she said), so she did a couple of rounds of Spinning Babies techniques to get him into the right position. Around 7 or 8 cm, she went ahead and broke my water, and by 1:15pm, we were getting prepped to push!

And that’s about the time I started freaking out.

I was scared to push, because the two days of laboring at home had been pain & exertion that led to very little progress. What if pushing was the same? What if I pushed and pushed and pushed and didn’t progress, and ended up needing a major intervention?

Lex reminded me of the nature of pushing that it’s millimeter by millimeter at some points, and that yes- this would take a while. But that progress WOULD occur, even if it didn’t feel like it.

So I asked Matt to pray for me, then settled in for who knew how long, and once we crossed the 75 or 90-minute mark… I’d run out of steam.

There’s no progress bar for labor- no one can tell you “you’re 65% there! Just X hours/minutes longer!” You just go and go and have to trust that things WILL resolve… at some point. But the open-ended nature of it felt like it was never going to end, and I didn’t know how long I could keep at it. I got the end of each push and felt like I was running on less-than-fumes.

That’s when I started praying.

Actually, I started repeating a hymn to myself- with every 10-second push, I repeated to myself “Lord I need you, oh I need you- every hour I need you.” Never has that felt more true than in labor- I was out of steam. I couldn’t lean on my own reserves anymore, because they were completely tapped out. I needed the Holy Spirit to strengthen me in order to make it through, because I couldn’t do it on my own.

Ephesians 3:20- “Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us…”

And shortly thereafter, Gideon was born.

After nine years of waiting and 60 hours of labor, our sweet boy was born at 3:24pm on Monday, June 24th.

Because He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it.

Within a minute or two of arriving, they whisked him over to the warming table to clear his airways and pump his stomach- he’d swallowed meconium on his way into the world. Not being able to hold him was hard, but I’m so grateful to the nurses who worked on Gideon, because they managed to keep him in the room and out of the NICU.

After about 30 minutes they brought him over to me and as soon as they laid him on my chest, he settled right down and snuggled close. It was, simply put, heaven.

With Gideon being our third, I thought I was pretty well-versed on the ways of being a Mom… but experiencing the postpartum side of things has been humbling in ways I wasn’t expecting. That was a consistent thread throughout the entire pregnancy as well, and it’s been a sweet reminder of how unique & precious each of our boys’ stories are- in each season of waiting & newborn life, I’ve seen a different side of how the Lord provides and loves us with such tenderness.

Welcome to the world, sweet Gideon- I cannot wait to watch you grow in grace, joy, and faithfulness. You’re the gift we didn’t see coming, and whom we could not be more grateful for.

All photos by our amazing photographer and dear friend, Emily Gerald Photography!