“He told me that when Terri gave birth to Chris and he held his son in his arms for the first time, it was the closest he had ever been to understanding the love of God. He said that though he had never met this little person, this tiny baby, he felt incredible love for him, as though he would lie down in front of a train if he had to, that he would give up his life without so much as thinking about it, just because this child existed. John set this love beside other relationships, but they didn’t compare. In other relationships, the person he knew had to earn his love. Even with his own father, John learned to love him, and with his wife, they had fallen in love over several years, becoming closer and closer friends. But it wasn’t that way with his children. His love for them was instantaneous, from the moment of their birth. They had performed nothing to earn his love other than be born. It was the truest, most unconditional love he had ever known. John said if his love for Chris was the tiniest inkling of how God loved us, then he had all the security in the world in dealing with God, because he knew, firsthand, what God’s love toward him felt like, that it was complete.”
-Donald Miller, Father Fiction
If you look closely, you’ll see glimpses of God’s glory all around you. God’s glory was certainly revealed to me in a fresh, new way in the birth of my daughter. I was around 30 weeks pregnant when Bryan, my husband, read the above passage to me from Father Fiction. I remember feeling a sense of sacredness in the words he read, but not realizing the full impact of those words until I held my own child in my hands, and seeing what I can only guess is a reflection of the same wonderment and awe displayed across Bryan’s face as held also held Anika for the first time. God is incredibly gracious to allow his creation be privy to such a blatant display of his unconditional love for us. How fitting that Anika means ‘gracious’. Here is her story.
I am grateful for having had an easy, and dare I say, enjoyable pregnancy. I was an annoyingly happy pregnant lady, even in the midst of the morning sickness that hit me like a ton of bricks. (But left as quickly and suddenly as it had arrived, right at the second trimester mark.) I went into the pregnancy, healthy, low risk, and as such, decided to plan a homebirth, as it was statistically just as safe, if not safer than delivering naturally in a hospital. The documentary, “The Business of Being Born” summed up nicely most of the reasons we decided on a homebirth. As it was never medically indicated, (and I knew my due date from natural family planning) we ended up forgoing ultrasound, as we felt the perceived risks of routine ultrasound outweighed any perceived benefits. This provided a unique sense of…mystery? surrounding our pregnancy, as we, of course did not find out the gender. It was fun, especially in retrospect to see how many people were guessing a boy, including my midwife, as the heart rate was always on the lower sides of things. (Apparently lower heart rates are typically associated with boys) Anika certainly likes to surprise us already!
I ate eggs like they were going out of style.
Baked egg custard from the cookbook, Nourishing Traditions, was--and still is, really--a common , albeit very random,
craving.
That, and yogurt.
Lots and lots of yogurt.
It was a couple of the many ways I made sure to get plenty of good quality protein, as my midwife, as well as a lot of evidence through the research efforts of people like
Dr. Brewer and
Weston Price felt it was the best way to nourish a pregnancy and avoid various complications of pregnancy.
I had mentally prepared myself for going past my due date, in an effort to save my sanity in the last days of my pregnancy. So when I woke up on Sunday, June 26, two weeks from my due date and noticed some mild cramping that was much different from Braxton Hicks contractions, I instantly thought, is today the day? And just as quickly, dismissed the idea and continued to get ready for church.
I felt a strange mix of calmness, excitement, and sadness (plus other emotions I’m sure) during worship that morning. I remember thinking that this could be the last Sunday I would have to worship with my baby inside of me. That was a sacred moment for me when I realized this, especially looking back on it now. I felt like not only was I worshipping God with my songs of praise, but I was teaching my baby one last time in the womb about who this God is that I worship, before he/she is born into this world. I am so grateful for that moment.
Sundays are also the day that I drive a half hour to a farm to pick up my eggs, milk, etc. so after much debate, decided to call my mom to tell her how I felt and that I may need her to drive me to the farm. I called her before church, and told her I would update her after church, based on how I felt. I really hesitated calling her, because both Bryan and I agreed we didn’t want to tell anyone I was in labor. After calling Bryan on his work phone (which he explicitly told to only call if I was in labor) to ask his opinion on the situation, I finally decided after church to have her drive me to the farm. While I waited for her to arrive, I called my midwife. She advised me to rest and take a nap, just in case this was the beginning of labor, but that it was too early to tell for sure. Aside from the rest I got during the car ride to the farm, I really didn’t give myself much rest the rest of the day, since I decided grocery shopping and cleaning the house/ finishing up some odds and ends around the house were more important. I took maybe a 20 minute nap sometime in the afternoon. Looking back, I realized that I was experiencing that last ‘burst of energy’ that some women get at the beginning of labor.
At about 6:45pm, Bryan got home from work and promptly announced that he’s tired and hungry. Great, in my haste around the house, I hadn’t fixed any supper for him, and after having the same cramping all day, was beginning to wonder if maybe I would be up for a good portion of the night. We decided to go to Chipotle and eat at the reservoir. Afterwards, I suggested taking a walk, more out of curiosity to see if that would get things going more, in case I was in labor. Bryan was not convinced I was in labor, but we both agreed to go on a walk anyway. It was a nice evening, and things were starting to feel a little more intense the more I moved around. My midwife called to check on me again at some point in the evening after our walk, and gave me strict instructions to go to bed early. Well, I didn’t get to bed until maybe 10:30 at the earliest. I wasn’t asleep for very long when I woke up at about 11:30 to some pretty intense contractions that definitely had a rhythm to them. I breathed through a few on my side in bed until I decided to wake Bryan up around 11:50. Bryan called Joan and she said to start timing the contractions. I think he might have started timing them, and she determined at that point that we still had some time, but to call her again if they got closer together, or if we felt we needed her there. I honestly don’t remember exact details, like how far apart my contractions were, or exact times of when we called Joan, or when she actually came. Anyway, I think at this point he suggested going and lying down on the couch and watching a Wonder Years episode on Youtube. I think the thought process at that point was, if it was the beginning of labor, watching tv would take my mind off of things. Well, I couldn’t focus on watching more than a few minutes of the Wonder Years before the contractions were really starting to take my breath away. I finally told Bryan that he needed to call Joan and tell her that we needed her there. At first, he was like, ‘I think we can handle laboring a little on our own, I can help you through this’, but at that point, I just instinctively knew that things were really progressing quickly. So Bryan called Joan and found out that she and the midwife in training, Cheyenne that she had staying with her were heading back from the Columbus Airport to pick up Cheyenne’s husband, and were originally planning on stopping back at Joan’s house to drop him off before coming to my house--which would have taken over 3 hours. She suggested calling my friend up who had had 3 homebirths already to sit with me, and to help them determine if they had enough time to drop him off, or if they should just head to our house, which would have taken more like an hour, twenty minutes. So my friend came over, and sat with me, and we all decided that Joan should just come straight to our house. She got all of the supplies out of my birth kit, and lined them up for Joan while we waited.
I moved around a lot--spent some time on the bed laying on my side, sitting on the edge of the bed, my exercise ball. While I don’t know how far apart the contractions were happening, I knew that I could barely get up off the bed and make to the bathroom in the next room over before another one started. I was amazed at the incredible relief I would get in between contractions, even if for a short while. I was even able to have some semblance of conversation for a few short moments in between. But, boy, during those contractions, I was barely able to stay on top of the pain, it seemed. Bryan was right there by my side the whole time, encouraging me, stroking my hair, kissing my cheek. I even leaned on him for suport through a few especially hard contractions. Despite the intense amount of pain I felt, I felt supported and a sense of calm the whole time. Because of Bryan’s incredible, constant support, never was fear allowed to enter into my conscious thoughts.
At one point, I was sitting on the edge of the bed, and Bryan sat down next to me, and grabbed the sheet of Scripture verses that I had posted in our bedroom and bathroom, and started to read them. He took my right hand in his, as he started reading the first verse on the page, from Isaiah 41:13-14:
'I am the Lord your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear, do not be afraid...I myself will help you,' declares the Lord, your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel.
He pauses, and looks down at my right hand that he had taken hold of, and it was as if we both knew at that point that God had showed up in our midst!
So at about 1:30am, I would say, Joan showed up (while Cheyenne’s husband just slept in the car in our driveway!). She checked me right away, and I was at 9-9.5cm and 100% effaced! She suggested getting in the tub to help relax a little more, and she felt that it would be no time at all before I was pushing--she even said I could give birth right there in my bathtub if I wanted! So Bryan went and filled up the bath tub, and the relief was amazing as soon as I got in the tub. She had him put a wash cloth over my belly, and took a cup and poured water over my belly during the contractions. I was probably in the tub about a half hour before I started to get the first inkling of the need to push. Joan said to go ahead and push when I felt the urge, but not to force it, just breathe into the pushing. It was really hard for me to wrap my mind around the logic of pushing, since I had just gotten done focusing so much on relaxing my muscles. It felt counter-productive at first, because I felt like I was tensing up my belly too much when I would try to push.
Joan was such a great help the whole time. She was there when I need her, and would step out into the hallway to give me space, even when I didn’t realize what my needs were at the time. She even suggested at one point taking off a hair elastic that was around my wrist, suggesting that it might have been just tight enough to cause my focus to waver slightly. I didn’t realize until I was in the midst of labor how much focus it took to work through the pain. I am ever grateful I was able to be in the comfort of my home during this whole process, where I could focus and concentrate the best.
My water finally broke once I was back in bed, and actively pushing—we were almost done! Joan dictated the whole time where the baby was- under the pubic bone, then crowning. After breathing through a few more contractions, on June 27 at 5:19 am, our baby was born! Everything happened so fast at this point-- ‘it’s a girl!’ I remember Joan saying, as they placed her on my belly. The cord was a little short, so she could only hang out on my belly. As much as I tried to remain neutral over any sort of feelings about one gender or the other, I have to admit, I was surprised to find out it was a girl--such a wonderful surprise nonetheless. Bryan was crying the whole time (sorry to blow your cover, Bryan! ;), and Joan asked us what we were going to name her. After drying his eyes, he announced, her name is going to be Anika! Such a wonderful, precious moment.
I look back with fondness of the peaceful experience I feel honored to have had with the birth of Anika. Moreover, I am humbled that, in the midst of one of the most painful, hardest experiences of my life, not only did I trust and have faith in God, but more amazingly, He had faith in me.
Anika Jo, on her birthday!
...and 4 months later!