You are our family's crowning glory. Our final piece. My great triumph, and abounding joy. Our souls rejoice at your arrival just when God intended, and we revel in His perfect design and will. Your name means laughter and you are a reminder to our family of what it means to "laugh without fear of the future." You make me smile every day. God has blessed us so beyond my heart's desire, and I am overwhelmed and humbled by His grace and mercy to me in carrying and delivering you. You are ours, and we are yours, and we all belong to Him. We welcome you earth-side, my babiest baby, and we love you so very much.
Love,
Mommy
I will admit to having somewhat of a mental block for this post. I have started and stopped so many times over the past 7 months. Everything feels extra weighty. I think it is because of it being my last of its kind. Our minds are made up. We have peace in this decision. I am grateful to be closing this chapter of being a newborn mom and welcoming this new season of enjoying all my littles where they are at as they grow into themselves.
But my heart seems to be trailing behind.
Donating clothes I know I will never use again, and celebrating each first for Isaac knowing they are the last baby firsts for me has been hard on my mommy heart. It is a strange reality to process having spent so much of the last decade devoting my soul to being a baby mom. I am stepping into a new chapter of motherhood and it feels like a graduation. Celebrating this last leg of a beautiful season full of so much magic, that grew me in so many ways. There is grief along with the celebrating, and I will treasure this closing chapter in my heart all my days knowing I have felt it all fully and am present in what is the greatest work of my life.
"Pregnancy takes you to the brink of insanity, and then the baby comes." Just a little phrase coined by my mother that always hits the mark.
Isaac's due date was January 1st, and I was miserable.
I had 3 weeks to go.
While I was extremely grateful to know I was in the clear to have a VBAC, there is the tradeoff of how difficult my three natural deliveries were to carry. My last trimesters for each were painfully brutal, and I was praying daily that I would be blessed with an early delivery.
My previous due dates were all over the place.
Aria was 10 days early; Leo only 3 days early and just shy of 9 pounds; Callen was scheduled. I did not have a good gage for when I would go into labor. What was consistent with the natural deliveries (Callen, my c-section was actually a much more comfortable pregnancy because of his odd positioning) was the excruciating pressure and lower back pain, and sleepless nights all of 3rd trimester. I also knew that for me labor was a 0-100 situation. No tell-tale contractions until is was a rapidly progressing emergency--time to get in the car and race to the hospital. So on December 8th, as we celebrated Angela's birthday, I told my in laws I would be moving to their house within the next week just to be safe. Same practice back in Nassau...even though I have lived in Jamesport since 2016.
I know...what can I say? I like keeping things the same. One more Mineola delivery for the books.
I had been sent twice to the hospital to check for early labor. Both times were an uncomfortable exam, a stupid long wait, and an assurance that I was dilating but not contracting yet.
Isaac was consistently measuring in the 90th percentile, and it seemed very likely I was going to have a ten pound Christmas baby--another thing I was not thrilled about because Christmas is my hosting holiday for our immediate family. I am very jealous and covetous over it always being at my house. I LIKE TO KEEP THINGS THE SAME.
We had as a family just battled numerous sicknesses (each individual having a rough bout one at a time) and Stephen was the last to succumb. I was sluggish to move back yet...because what if I went all the way to my due date? We were all just finding our way back to healthy. Stephen was still fighting off the tail end of his fluey symptoms. I was so uncomfortable and wanted to stay in my bed as long as possible. But the 'what if' of him coming as early as Aria did made me anxious. SO we had our hospital bag packed and began the process of preparing all of our children to move for an undetermined length of time starting Monday the 11th.
Sunday the 10th arrived. Day before the big move. Stephen downed some NyQuil and climbed in to enjoy one more good sleep in our bed in his still not 100% healthy state. The solid downpour outside was a nice lullaby as he drifted off into a medicated dreamworld. I hunkered down to doom-scroll and read and toss and turn uncomfortably, and wait for the morning to come.
I started feeling some slight cramping a little after midnight...which made me uneasy. I did not want to wake Stephen up...but I also did not want to wait in case this was it. Like I said...ANY contractions for me have always been the beginning of a very quick progression. I started to time the cramps. They were only slight cramps but they were consistent. Around 12:45 I sat up and said "Stephen, I'm so sorry. I think we need to leave tonight. Like now. Let's take the kids to your parents tonight just in case."
My husband is a BEAR when he sleeps normally, and adding NyQuil to the mix, I was bracing myself for his response.
But, miraculously, I believe God gave him an extra measure of readiness because he just simply woke up and said "Alright, let's go."
So up we got. I grabbed some things. He started gathering our packed bags and told me to just head downstairs. He'd get the kids last. As I went downstairs I felt a change. I went over to my kitchen counter and gripped the edge. Contractions were steadily getting more painful. I could not believe it. Was this really it? Stephen passed me on his way to grab things. We had some type of exchange and he reminded me to just get in the car.
I walked out the front door and over to the truck and got in. The truck smelled so bad. One of the kids had left an old clementine somewhere between the seats and we couldn't find it for days. I hoisted myself up to the passenger seat and labored as I waited.
One by one each of my confused and bleary-eyed babies were placed by Stephen in our backseat. It was comical when it wasn't painful. We took off into the night around 2 am. Stephen said..."Are we still going to my parents?" I answered. "No. We need to call and wake them up. They need to meet us in the hospital parking lot." Aria had a thousand questions. The boys just sat wide-eyed. I was able to calmly answer her for a while between contractions but about a half hour in, Stephen frustrated with the need to abide speeding limits with the sheets of rain pounding the windshield, the stench of the rotting clementine, intense contractions coming every 3-5 minutes, we all have limits on stimulation and my nerves were on fire. "Aria, I love you so much. I'm doing great. Mommy needs to focus on getting this baby out safely. I need some quiet while I focus."
My quiet, zoned labor creature inside who always shows up wondrously was doing her job.
I know it was hard for my inquisitive Aria but she obeyed.
All I remember between then and now was just focusing on breathing through each serious contraction. Picking distant highway signs. Locking in on a point in the car. Slow breathing through the peak until it was over. I said once to Stephen. "What if they send me back?"
"They won't. This is it, Sarah."
Every labor story has been a unique journey for Stephen and I but I never expected to get to experience labor with all three of my other kids present for a good while.
By the grace of God, we arrived at the hospital baby still inside. Feeling immensely confident in my words as Stephen helped me out of the truck, I mustered up an excited tone for my other kids "I can't wait for you to meet your brother! Next time I see you he'll be here!" and hobbled into triage while Stephen absently rushed to hand the others off to Angela and Steve. I was grateful it was so early in the morning and very few people were in waiting rooms as I crossed them. Labor is one of the most vulnerable forms of existence. Something about unrelated onlookers witnessing your agony. It's not the best.
Anyone can attest who has been in active labor in triage...it's the worst. Confirming date of birth and whatnot while fighting your demons and pausing to breathe when all you want to do is get into a room and finish this.
The usual stuff.
I ask for an epidural as soon as someone who can get me one is within sight. It was at this point, after walking through the labor and delivery doors (It's funny how differently they treat you when they know this is most likely not a false alarm and trust me they know the difference) I started to become very frustrated. This is my fourth delivery. I know my body. I know what real contractions feel like. I knew going in that I was already dilated and from where my pain was at I knew I was closely approaching the "brink of insanity" zone, but at the same time I have found myself to be a very quiet laborer. While it works for me, I guess it is not typical because quite a few nurses did not rush to check me thinking I still had a ways to go. Once they did check me, a few times they would say "I can't believe you're this far along. You're so quiet." And I did not want to hear that. I wanted a needle in my spine. IV placement took what felt like forever. Checking for dilation took forever (freaking 8.5 cms). Getting into a room took forever. THE ANESTHESIOLOGIST TOOK TOO LONG--45 minutes to an hour I was waiting. When he finally arrived I was ready to push, and it was ineffective. I did not know that was a thing but apparently they do not work if you are ready to push. They let me chill for a little bit in dismay as I painfully accepted my fate of doing this without taking the edge off--I know that drug-free labor is empowering to a lot of women. It just is not important to me. Having tasted of the epidural fruit and found it sweet, and helpful after months of no sleep, it was sorely missed this time around.
But we rolled on.
Pushing had never taken me less than an hour, and I was in a rush for him to be out. Without the epidural in my way I wanted to change positions. After pushing for about 10 minutes I asked it I could turn to my hands and knees. My doctor said "Yeah! I'm fine with that if you're comfortable!" So I tried that. Stephen and the doctor and nurse had been chanting "Push, push, push, push...and after a few rounds of that I had an overwhelming sudden panic attack. I did not think I was making enough progress, and I was exhausted. I said "I don't think I can do this."
"Brink of Insanity" ladies and gentlemen.
Stephen said "Sarah, the head is right there. You're crowning!"
For future reference, to any who might take it, this is a really good thing to tell a woman who is pushing without her needing to ask!
With this new knowledge I asked if I could lay on my side. Everyone obliged, including Stephen who now was assisting in holding me on my side on the edge of the table.
And in another one to two pushes, Isaac's head emerged.
They told me to stop pushing so they could position me better on the table for full delivery.
It has been my experience that this takes the cake for hardest requests to obey during labor...the actual finish line in site, baby has partially emerged, the agony almost over, seconds away from holding your baby finally...but please pause for a moment.
But then, when I was given the go to give one more big push, in what felt like one polished motion, Stephen and the doctor pulled Isaac out and placed him on my chest. Whirlwind 5 hours of labor from Jamesport to delivery. 15 minutes of pushing.
Our final labor journey complete. We were through it again, another precious gift of life having joined our crew earth-side. Worth every single minute.
There were many funny moments in recovery. The nurse telling Stephen to look at the placenta. Stephen looking at the placenta. The nurse asking if I was sure I was ready to hop out of bed and gleefully get to the bathroom with no baby inside.
My mom showed up in the recovery room to take Isaac after he'd nursed and let Stephen and I crash for a few minutes into an exhausted sleep. I love the image of her sitting between us smiling down at the gooey newborn while Stephen and I metaphorically died on either side of her.
The hospital stay was short but we were back after a few days for light therapy.
We had a little ways to go yet to battle Isaac's jaundice in the next coming weeks but we were able to be home for Christmas *all 6 of us* and what a celebration it was.
In thinking about how best to close this final birth story I can devise no other way than to thank my Stephen from the bottom of my heart for his unwavering love and support in these transformative years for both of us. You have been my rock through building a home, giving birth to these four amazing humans we made, entering parenthood, celebrating our victories, bitterly grieving and growing from our failures, and in all of that stretching each other up towards heaven as we cultivate our little kingdom on earth. It has always been us together. My heart and soul is forever entwined with yours, and I thank the Lord every day for your friendship, and to walk alongside you in this life. It is during these journeys I have been propelled on by your closeness and oneness with me. I fear nothing ahead, as long as it's with you. <3 Thank you for choosing and loving me, and for making me a mommy to four beautiful children. My cup overflows and floods all around. I am ready for our next adventure, all 6 of us in toe. Always Yours.
