Mercy's Birth Story

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Baby was a complete surprise.
We changed houses because the other was just getting cramped. We had the three
boys on a triple bunk bed in a tiny room and they just kept getting bigger and
bigger. So we started looking around and found that we could get almost twice
the room for about the same mortgage payment if we moved just outside of Dallas
. God provided this house (which had the unfinished attic) at a really really
good price because it was in dire need of some cosmetic work. So…we bought it.
And began to renovate.

I completely overworked myself trying to maintain home at the old house while
working every day to get the new(messed up) house ready for habitation. I got
down sick (complete physical, mental, emotional breakdown) and was told to let
EVERYTHING but life essentials go. Basically I was banned from the new house,
quit teaching Sunday school, blah, blah, blah…life support only.

This may be TMI but we were being SO CAREFUL…we thought we were so done with
baby stuff. I was really enjoying the big kid stuff and looking forward to going
on trips and doing stuff with big kids. You know, stuff! Ethan had just got to
the place where we could confidently leave him with a sitter overnight. We had
thrown the big garage sale and sold ALL the baby gear. We were so done.

Let me tell you…it only takes ONE TIME to make a baby. I mean, I knew that JBut
we had been successfully preventing for 4 years and this time we were
consciously making an effort to abstain during any fertile time. We had been
“restraining ourselves” for ever it seemed because I had been so sick and we
wanted no risk of my cycle being off. So we waited til I was feeling better and
things were being normal again. (Actually, it was that last night in the old
house that did us in…it SHOULD have been just fine…safe…no risk…ummmmm….no)

We moved in November…I got this headache that just would not go away. I just
felt so stinkin tired all the time. Then one day I just burst out crying. We
were about to make a trip to Iowa and I just decided to get a pg test to rule
out THAT because I was positive that it could NOT be THAT…but I would just make
sure because I was just feeling so yuk.

Yah, that test took all of 1.5 seconds to show that second blue line. I was sure
it was defective because hey, it is supposed to take like two minutes or
something. Nope…1.5 seconds. I called a friend here who had just found out she
was pg and asked how the stupid test was supposed to work. (I hadn’t taken one
since Andi, 13 years ago) My friend confirmed that the 2nd little blue line was
positive even if it showed up immediately. Shoot. Oh shooty, shoot, shoot!!
I freaked out. Literally. Freaked. Hit my knees crying and calling out to God. I
found that the thing I cried out for was for Him to give me mercy.

(I want you to know that it wasn’t the baby thing that got me freaking…it was
the whole pg, life stress, lack of faith that I could handle ANYTHING more…the
baby is the easy part of the whole thing, but still….)

Now, what was I gonna do? I needed to pick up my kids at grandpas house. I
needed to figure out a way to tell my sweet unsuspecting husband. I needed to
pull myself together before anyone saw me because one look at my face would make
anyone think that someone had just died.

So, I called my sister. I asked her to call our parents and tell dad what was
going on. I knew that if I called…I would talk to my mom and she would exclaim
loudly and say something that would be misinterpreted as disaster by my big girl
who would be sitting right there next to her grandma. I told my sister to get
grandpa in the other room and talk to him out of earshot of any kids. Then I
just waited and tried to think about what to do next.

Next thing I knew, Kendall called me from work and told me that my dad had
called him and told him that the kids were taken care of for the evening and we
were free to go on a date. OK. So that is done…now, what do I do? Do I make a
cutesy sign?…”welcome home honey, find your pipe and slippers on the couch next
to the baby booties and pacifier”.

No, a sign would not be good. Remember, this man has absolutely NO idea of what
is happening.


We head out to dinner and a movie. I really do not feel much like eating.
Kendall has already taken his insulin shot so I am thinking that I need to wait
and tell him after dinner so he can actually digest some food and doesn’t go
into insulin shock. Or, I could tell him during dinner…but then we risk a major
choking hazard. I could tell him in the car…but there is traffic and the whole
“drive safely” concern. I could wait til after the movie but then we run short
on time and have to pick up kids. I know there is a possibility for Kendall to
have much the same stunned into numbness state that I felt earlier. I want him
to be able to process at least a little bit before the kids hit him full force.


I finally pick the “perfect time”. That time when all is quiet and you can lean
over and whisper sweet somethings into your darling’s ear.

The perfect time…”honey, we get an early Christmas present this year. The
Lord has chosen one for us. He has decided to give us a new baby.”


I whisper this just as the sound comes up on The Chronicles of Narnia.
I am glad they bring these things out on video because I can confidently say
that neither or us watched the movie that evening. My stunned sweetheart sat
next to me and held my hand. He rubbed my hand. He stroked my arm. He squeezed
my arm.

I just kept swallowing air and tried to let it all sink in. (tried not to throw
up)

We made it through that week. Told the big girl that we were expecting another
baby. She was stunned to say the least. We waited until later to tell the boys.

The sickness came with full force this time. I have always had it easy with
morning sickness. This time it was awful. I was so tired…exhausted is really the
word. And I had a constant head ache. And I began to itch. Like crazy!

One routine visit to the midwife brought almost immediate relief. I believe it
was straight from God. Joyce, (my midwife) put together my physical symptoms,
along with my chronic anemia, and a bit of blessed inspiration from Heaven…and
suggested that maybe I was suffering from a gluten intolerance. I tried a
wheat-free diet and BAM I felt SO much better.

The rest of my pregnancy went so smoothly. I had wonderful iron counts and
overall felt like a youngster again. It was amazing.

The only thing that bothered me throughout the pregnancy was an almost constant
hip pain. The chiropractor helped immensely, but the pain would just keep
returning. I would find out later what that was all about. *

The dog days of Texas summer seemed to drag on and on and on. I could no longer
see my feet but overall I was still pretty comfortable. As August started we
began to look for signs of baby’s arrival. I would have some Braxton hicks here
and there but really all stayed quiet. August 12 (the official date that means
absolutely nothing) came, and went.

Actually, we really thought we were going to have a baby right at that time. The
moon was right, a big storm front was hovering about. Contractions seemed to be
going right along. Mary (my lovely sister/birth assistant) was called in to
labor sit with us. I would contract a while, then stop. “Well, it will go, or it
wont, no sense getting all worked up over it.”

I did check myself and found that there was just no cervix. None. Just mush. I
was dilated to about 2 by my inexperienced calculations. My midwife said that is
not uncommon. I was ripe and ready to go. Now, if it would only go…
The weekend dragged on. Mary went home. I went on with life. I sat around and
did a bunch of nothing. Then I went to sleep. Slept good too. That was new. I
felt like my body was gearing up for some action. Well DUH! Every day I would
wake up with the knowledge that today… could be the day. And every night I
would go to sleep knowing that tonight could be the night. I would turn out the
light and tell my honey that I would wake him if anything exciting happened.


Deep down inside I hoped that it would be exciting…something that would change
like a switch. That I would know without a doubt that labor had begun. I did not
believe that I would have the sense to know when to call everyone. This labor
stuff was such a mystery. I had always had such interference. Except for my
first baby (in which my mother had to tell me when to go to the hospital) I had
had labor induced and encouraged by doctors and midwives to the point that I was
no longer sure what to expect. I tried to think like a first-time mom. But was
continually haunted by the fact that, unlike first timers, I knew what labor
felt like at the end. And, I knew from experience that the end has always come
fast and hard for me. I was afraid that my water would break and baby would come
within the hour, before I got to have “my birth”. I prayed to God that He would
give me a long labor so that I would have the time to call all my people and
glory in this new birth.

I talked to God a lot about just how I wanted things to go. I am sure He smiled
at my requests. I am so glad that I trusted Him enough to know what was best!
The thing that I kept coming back around to was how I wanted to “experience”
this labor. How I wanted to embrace it. How I wanted to live IN it and not look
through it. How I wanted to feel it and acknowledge it and not just wish for it
to be done. Ummmm….be careful what you wish for?!

August 23
The alarm goes of somewhere around 6 or 7 am. I roll over and kiss my honey and
mumble something about letting him know if anything exciting happens in the
labor department. He gets up and gets ready for work. I lay in bed and begin to
drift off to sleep when I feel a stab in my back. Contraction. Same as any other
of the million times I have felt them. Except. Except what? Except this felt
different. Ouch. That’s all. Just hmmmm….how bout that. I tell Kendall to have a
great day and I will call him if I need him.

I get up and stumble around a bit as on any early morning. I am checking my
email and I decide to send one to Delilah, my doula. She is usually on the
computer in the morning and I just feel like asking her opinion on these weird
feeling contractions. It feels strange typing to her because I am almost
positive that this is not IT, but, well, maybe it is it, but then, oh I don’t
know, what if I am wrong, and WOW! Here goes another one. Not to mention that my
sweet Ethan is just merrily chatting away and it makes me want to jump out of my
skin.

So, this is what I send.

“Ok tell me again…
I am trying to picture your visual of the progression of contractions.

I just had the 5th one since 730 am that clamps down my back and makes me whine.
The contraction on the stomach part lasts much longer than the back pain but oh
doggy that back pain is a real doozie. I would estimate the back grabs for about
20-30 seconds…the front about a minute or maybe more.


Ok the last one 838…this one 844….

At this point I am calling the hubby just because Ethan is TALKING TO ME and
that is making me NUTS.”



It takes all of 3 minutes to get a reply from her. She says she will be here
within the hour. We had planned a day of pampering for ourselves with
pedicures. Guess you have to cancel that if baby calls. Bummer.

I sit at the computer for a few minutes just trying to think of what to do next.
Kendall . I should call him. He will know what to do.

Kendallis no help at all. (the only time I will ever say that about this birth
situation. J) He tells me he will be “right home”. I was kinda hoping that he
would talk me through this silliness. But nooo, he just takes my word for it.
What a guy!

My sister, Mary, gets the next call. She tells me that she was already lining
up her day in case she was needed over here. She will come and spend the day
with me whether or not any of this pans out.
My friend Pam gets a call. She is lined up as house-mother. She will be manning
the house and the food for the birth, before-during-after. She is also my prayer
warrior. I ask her to be on stand-by.

I then call my brother Dale. He and Jenny have graciously volunteered to keep
the boys while I birth. I feel like this is the really scary call. This is the
call that says, “it’s time”. But I don’t really feel sure that it is time. But
maybe. Oh well, Jenny will forgive me if I am wrong. Besides, the boys will love
having a day out of the house. (and I will love the quiet time. )

Roll call, everyone present and accounted for. What in the world do I do now? Am
I supposed to do something? This is the strangest feeling ever.

I had been giggling for weeks over the power I held in the cell phone in the
palm of my hand. With just a few phone calls I could bring a halt to half a
dozen people’s normal days and send the scurrying to my side. Now I have them
all here and I feel, what?, embarrassed. At the very least shy. This better be
it.


Now, the remembering gets hazy. I will list what I do remember. In the partial,
sometimes non-sensical way that I remember it. Times and circumstances may or
may not really line up with truth. That seems to be the way everything happened
that day.


I wish I could describe it in video with a running commentary. Like a Mutual of
Omaha Nature film.

“Now we see the mother build her nest. She is beautiful in her
efficiency. Preparations for birth have begun in earnest as she lines her birth
cave with the softest of material. She pauses, contractions holding her in state
of anxious stillness. The family looks on as mother breathes and turns her
thoughts inward to the life giving surges of birth.”


Whatever.

I remember Kendall getting home and looking sweet and anxious. I love that he
came home so quickly. I really love him.
I remember Delilah walking in with quiet authority and asking if we had made the
bed yet. This seems almost absurd to me. Of course we hadn’t made the bed. Why
do that unless we are REALLY in labor. C’mon. I think it was a knowing smile
she gave me as we prepared the bed “just in case”.
I remember Mary arriving with a mountain of stuff. When she came in I felt
finally ok. I knew then that we could really have the baby now because the music
had arrived. I know that is silly. Any other music just would not do. Had to be
Mary music. (I hope she knows in reading this that THAT thought somehow mingles
back among many many childhood memories. I needed Mary there or it just would
have felt incomplete.)
I remember sitting on the floor and thinking about lying about the time of my
last contraction. They didn’t seem as close now and was feeling a pressure to
perform.

BAM! Ok no need to lie about anything. Another contraction. (little did I know
that I would feel the “need” to lie about timing more than once during this
day…as if it would make any difference. Maybe it was a help to myself. Trying to
convince my own mind that the time was finally here. I don’t know…maybe I am
just a big liar. I didn’t actually lie, hedged maybe…but I didn’t lie…just
wanted to. )
I remember retreating across the room to the futon and sitting there trying to
untangle the mass of fringe on the brown blanket. I felt very alone at that
point. But I kinda liked it that way.

I remember reclining on pillows and assuring more than one person that “yes, I
really am comfortable” even tho my body was contorted and my head was laying
almost upside down over this pillow thing. I just did not want to move. I didn’t
even want these nice, nice people to help me get re-arranged. I just wanted to
be right there.

I remember Delilah rubbing my feet and legs and wishing that it would never ever
stop.

I remember meatloaf from Boston Market. Yum. Are you really in labor if you
enjoy eating that much? Cuz I really enjoyed it. Feed a labor, starve a cold.
Right?
I remember my daughter and her sweet rubbing and cold drinks.
I remember leaning on Kendall . Wondering if I was hurting his leg.
I remember asking Kendall to go on a walk with me and, as we went into the
bedroom to get our shoes, Mary and Delilah giggling because they thought we had
just gone in to have a romantic interlude.

I remember that walk being hot and sticky and frustrating because the
contractions felt so different when walking. Maybe this wasn’t labor after all?


After the walk I had almost convinced myself that this really was a false labor
and I should just send everyone home. I wandered around the house a bit just
thinking, and spacing out.
My sweet friend Pam found me in the living room leaning over the footstool. She
kneeled down next to me and began to pray.

Pam prayed for me a while and it felt so good to talk to the Lord and feel His
calm. A contraction hit hard and stunned me a little bit. Pam continued to pray
for quite a while. She prayed something about finding my song. I thought that
was nice. I usually wake up with a song on my heart but I had spent the last few
mornings looking in my mind for a song to sing. It just seemed elusive. Maybe
today I really would find it. Maybe the baby was my song…waiting to be born.
(or, maybe I would sing an operetta during transition…who knows)

I went back upstairs, the staging room for this whole birth. Joyce (midwife)
called in asking if everything was ok. Actually, maybe Delilah called her. I
don’t know. Sounded like Joyce was “hurt” that we were partying without her. She
knew that I was anxious about things going fast at the end so I think she was
making sure that we weren’t in the end stages yet. I think it was nearing 5pm by
this time. Delilah asked me if I wanted Joyce to come. I said I didn’t think so.
I just could not commit to having her come for nothing. Contractions had been
strange all day. They would be 20 minutes…then 3 at a time just a few minutes
apart. No real predictable pattern.

Delilah hung up the phone assuring Joyce that we would call her back if anything
got good.


I don’t think it was 5 minutes later that I got blasted with a piggy-backer,
triple decker, whammer of a contraction. I got on my knees over a footstool and
buried my face in the cushion. I could feel my loved ones around praying and
whispering to me. Mary was playing music that was just so beautiful. So fitting.

“Oh how good He is, to those who wait on Him.” The contraction seemed to rise
and fall with the notes of the song. Delilah murmured scripture in such harmony
with the music that I could feel the very presence of the Spirit fill the room.
I began to cry. I was hurting but the tears were less from pain and more from
the sweetness and longing I felt in this moment of worship and birth weaving
themselves together. I could feel the warmth of my husband at my back, rubbing
as the pain would mount again.

I finally lifted my head and knew, at that moment, that we would soon be having
a baby.


I walked around a bit. I leaned on things. I stretched out over the edge of the
bed. I sat on the birth ball. Hated that! I heard the music in the background
and felt Delilah and/or Kendall do hip squeezes on my hips. Someone would hold
my hip bones and squeeze them while the other would rub my low back…or
something…it felt heavenly. At one point I turned and tried leaning on Kendall
to stand through a contraction. Nope, that brought me to tears. It just hurt too
bad. I was ready for something different.


We had a pool ready. It had been blown up for weeks. Kendall took care of all
the details. It was warm and waiting as I prepared to get in.


I can remember standing in the closet trying to decide what to wear. This is the
silliest thing I can remember. I had shopped all over town for just the right
thing to wear for labor. I had big shirts, pretty shirts, more than one to
choose from. What did I choose for this day? Well, for general labor…the single
most comfortable and at the same time, ugliest, thing that I owned. After all,
this was probably just a rehearsal…I wanted to save the pretties for the real
deal…when we would take pictures and stuff.

I settled for a lovely chocolate brown stappy undershirt thingy. It would be ok
and not see through in the water. And, a ratty old pair of bikini undies. They
told me I looked cute. Huh!


I got into the pool. It felt so good. I got on my knees and leaned my chest over
the soft side of the pool. Kendall sat at my head and I leaned on him as
contraction after contraction swept over me. These were big and really, really
hurt. Delilah must have been half swimming as she leaned in and squeezed my
hipbones as each contraction hit. (once she squeezed in the wrong place and it
pinched my skin and hurt. I made some crack about not goosing a laboring woman.
Hope I didn’t embarrass her.) Someone took my glasses and I rested my face into
Kendalls shoulder and neck. I know that could not have been comfortable for him
but he held on tight and helped me ride it out. I remember thinking this
thought…
“who, WHO was the IDIOT that prayed to God to let her have a nice
long labor so she could feeeeel it and experience it. HA! What a DOPE!”

Then I would try to pull back and talk nice in my head. I would try to remember
to relax in between. I would try to stare through the pains…to be a part of the
labor instead of wishing it to end. I would try to access that place in my heart
that was into the “cool-ness” of labor. I mean, this has got to be the coolest
thing a person can experience…bringing forth life…wow. Then another, what do the
ninnies call those things…rushes, waves, swells, expansions??!,… teeth
shattering, bone crunching, butt cramping, blood curdling, CONTRACTION would
hit. And I would go back to wondering… what. was. I. thinking.?!!!!! Please God!
I am too stupid to live!!

I think it was about 7 at this point. The contractions just seemed to never let
up. I think Delilah suggested I try laying back to see if it helped with the
pressure on my hip. No, NO. that did not help at all. I rolled over onto my left
side. My head was clear at the other side of the pool at this point. How did
that happen? Anyway, I lay/float on my left side. As a contractions would hit I
would try to just relax. Try. Kendall would hold my head above water. I could
feel his arm under the water holding my ribcage to keep my stable. I stretched
out my right leg above the side of the pool. Andi, I think was rubbing my leg
and foot with a cool cloth.

As the contractions hit I actually thought that it would not be so so bad to
just dip my head and drown. Funny, the thoughts you think in the throws of
labor.


Again, I change position. Joyce has come in since I got in the pool. I remember
her talking to me but I cannot remember what we said. I am almost completely
under water on my hands and knees. As I rolled over there is stupid conversation
about me taking my underwear off. Yah! Like that’s gonna happen.

“cut it off!” “Cut it. Just cut it off”.
And I am thinking…”there is no stinkin way that I am gonna stand up and lift
these legs to get off these panties, sistah…somebody better find the scissors.
Oh dang, these are my favorite pair.”


This is happening simultaneously, and at the very same exact precise time that
my body is convulsing with the most GINORMOUS urge to push that I have felt in
my entire motherhood. Oh my goodness. Other-worldly does not even begin to
describe it. I mean, really, I have had other babies. I have felt the urge to
push…a little. I have been coached to push. Told to push. Instructed to push,
push, push and hoooold. Breathe. Again, push…yah, yah, yah. Face turning purple
feel like you are going to pass out.

This. Was not that.
This, was, look-out-betty-freight-train-coming-down-the-pike,
grrrrrrrrrrrrowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllaaaaaaaaRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH
grab ahold of your toenails and heave your body inside out while someone pulls
out your tongue and flattens it with a rolling pit then snaps it back into your
head like a cheap roll up shade. The sound leaving my lungs was primal. Animal.
Pre-historic. T-rex on a rampage. In my head…comical. I could not believe the
sound. Embarrassing a bit. And yet, I had absolutely no control. To hold this in
would result in explosion. It had to come out. Had to.


Joyce needs to carry personal injury insurance for her own self. I do not know
if she realizes how close she comes to death as she checks to see the progress
of the wee babe. If I had been able to, I might have kicked her upside the head.
Not that she did anything wrong. She was so respectful of my space. She needed
to “see” what was going on. I understand that. She did exactly what I requested.
I requested no checks unless absolutely necessary. I guess a mother making those
sounds, hemorrhoids bulging from here to eternity, bag of waters ballooned out
the birth canal, needs to be checked. I HATED that. Joyce I love you…GET AWAY
FROM ME!!

Another…grrrrrrrrrrrrroooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwllllllllllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH


This baby is coming. COMING! Joyce tells me that the bag is bulging. The baby is
right behind. I remember that somewhere I read that once the water breaks the
pressure lessens considerably. Well, considering that the pressure at this point
feels like Mt Vesuvius…I am wayyyy interested in finding a release valve.


“break the water”. Seemed like a simple request. My birth team stalled. Why?
Maybe because of the million and one times that I had asked them, ordered them,
implored them…to NOT break my water. I had previously had easy labors until
someone broke my water. Then all hell broke loose. Those other four births ended
with such chaos. Loud noises, people hollering, rushing around, baby slamming
into the world. This time I envisioned a quiet, peaceful birth where the baby
slipped out with a gentle uh, uh, ugghhh. Soft lights, quiet ripples on the
water as the new child floated dreamily to the surface of the pool. Mom
glistening with a sweet, restful expression on her glowing face.

Delilah tells me…”Beckie, you can choose. You can choose the birth you want. You
can have this baby without breaking the water bag. You can choose.”

Heres me, face just millimeters from the water, naked butt in the air, someone
holding in my hemorrhoids, husband trying to keep me from inhaling the contents
of the pool,

“CHOOOOSE….I choooSSEEEEEEE….I CHOOOSsssseee it. Break it, break, break it now.”

Joyce told me that she would not break my water unless I got on my knees and
begged. Well, I was on my knees. Ordering. She did it. Pop. Actually it took a
second that felt like an hour. I guess the baby was truly right behind that bag.
Didn’t want to poke that baby with the little crochet hook.


Now, push. Really, I had no choice. It truly felt like the baby’s umbilical cord
was internally connected to the inside of my face. I pushed so hard I thought my
sinuses were going to cave in. I heard Delilah or Joyce talk to me about
keeping the screams, I mean sounds low. Vocalizing I think they call it. Keep it
low in the chest instead of high and hysterical. So I did. I would feel it come
in high and tight and I would visualize myself changing it to a grunt. Like when
you shove the refrigerator out from the wall. I would hear it go down low to my
belly button. Growwwllllll. Again, and again.

Then, they told me to hold on. Wha? Ok. How in the blessed name of all that is
holy do I do that? Blow….who, who, whooooo. Blow the water, feel the ripples,
dip your head and it’ll all be over. Sputter your lips….pppbbttttttt…..I held.
Now you can push again. Thanks.


Pushing, when left up to your laboring body, is a force not to be reckoned with.
I cannot put into words the intensity of desperation I felt as my body worked to
birth this child. I cried out, hollered out, moaned out…”Mercy, Lord give me
mercy”. These words came out again and again just as they had when I found out I
was pregnant. I can hear in my head Delilah praying at that moment. She was also
praying for mercy. I hear Joyce telling me “ we are almost there.” Then, I can
hear Kendall tell them that Mercy is the baby. We had talked about naming the
baby that but had not “settled” on it. I could not even be convinced that we
were having a girl, even if the sono said so. But when I heard him declare his
child to be Mercy it filled me. With love? How could I have more? I can only say
I was filled. I think it truly was the Spirit of God that I felt. Maybe
evidenced by the fact that those moans and groans as I birthed turned into
tongues. I didn’t know how my birth team felt about that. Didn’t care at that
point. Didn’t know if they’d even notice. Didn’t care. Just spoke it. Flowed it.
Prayed it. It was all that would come out. It felt great. I really can say that
it was a release like I had never felt before.


Just when I thought I would push forever the baby’s head came out. Oh! That felt
sooo much better. So much better. So so so much better. It’s like, shoulders,
even tho there are two of them, are nothing compared to the largeness, the
stretching, burning, pressure-izing, agony of the head. Seemed like a quick
little shoulder, shoulder, slip, slop, sloop and that sweet baby was O.U.T.
Praise God! Oh Jesus! Thank you LORD! Out.


I rolled over onto by back. I had wondered at stories of moms doing that. Like
some sort of gymnastic leap, it seemed. But in those moments…I could have jumped
up and run a mile, naked, in the snow. I was just so glad it was done. I rolled
over and Joyce handed me my sweet little bundle. I held her close and felt her
skin. I kissed her again and again. I want to say that I was just so
sooooooooooooo swept away with the love for her. (hadn’t checked for sure yet)
but actually, I was just glad to be done. Let all the gushy, love stuff come in
its time.* I was DONE. But she was so nice. Soft and squishy. Warm and lotiony.
The vernix was so silky on her skin. Her hair in little waves like it was
painted on her head.

Someone asked me if I wanted to check for boy or girl. I could feel that she was
a girl but I lifted her leg so the others could see. She, Her, girl, Mercy. God
had given us Mercy.

All the people around me were crying. I may have been crying but I do not
remember. I know that all the energy left my body. Kendall got me out of the
pool and over to the bed. The placenta came with no troubles. It actually felt
warm and soothing after all that. I had birthed with no tears, no damage. Just
exhaustion. I lay on the bed in my own birthday suit just staring at my baby
while everyone oohed and aahed. She was perfect. I was hungry. Naked and hungry.


Seemed like a million things happened next. I have the pictures to prove it. At
least they covered me with a beach towel for the photos. I was so glad to be at
home and in my own bed.

While the team milled around taking care of our needs we began life with our
newest member of the family. Her brothers would be so happy to meet her
tomorrow.
Kendallbathed his new daughter, Andi helped weigh and measure her. (9 pounds 2
ounces, 20 inches long, born 8:65 pm)

Mercy. Mercy Elise McCord.
God knew, she was JUST what we needed.

Notes:
*It seems that the severe hip pain that I experienced during pregnancy and labor
was due to baby turned posterior and a bit sideways and pressing her head on my
right hip. My squatting and turning in the pool allowed her to turn the right
way and come slamming out. We “know” this because after she came out she would
curve her little body a bit sideways…also her head was flattened a bit on one
side.


*That lovey stuff? Yeah, it came in full force. Once I got over myself and
looked with my heart at this little bundle of precious girl. She dove into the
center of my being and took up residence. Princess, sweetie, love muffin, sugar
pie, this child will never figure out her own name because we cannot keep from
calling her by the adjectives that describe her very being.




Reflections:

This birth was nothing like I envisioned. I had pictured a quiet day of birth
with minimal pain and much beauty. I had it all planned out as to how I would
like it to go. Wishful thinking. It didn’t go “as planned”. Well, except the
having a baby part. The rest? Sometimes chaotic, often frustrating , sometimes
scary, but still Lovely. How can pain hurt so beautifully?


In a crazy kind of way I did get what I had prayed for. I prayed for a knowing.
Even tho I denied it up til the very end, my body “knew” that the time was near.
My decisions were made by a guiding of the Spirit even tho I didn’t feel like I
heard Him at all. Trusting in the Lord and believing in the amazing way that He
knit my body together; I was able to follow blindly down this birth path that I
could not “see”. I had the blessing of an incredible support team that I could
trust to not push me but allow the birthing to unfold. They worked with me and
for me to make sure that I was covered so that I could just be.


The Lord sheltered us all in a way so mighty and sweet that words alone cannot
begin to tell. He started us on this journey. He lined up all the players. He
took care of every detail. Then He sat with us while we birthed. He joined us,
singing His sweet love song over us as we labored to become a part of this birth
process than only He, the Creator God, can truly understand.


Acknowledgements:

Thank you Lord, for knowing my need far beyond what I could ask or imagine.
Thank you for Kendall, my knight in shining armor. As always he held and
comforted me, aligning his strength with my weakness. I treasure him.
Thank you for Andi, my precious angel. You gave her grace and strength to
witness and beautifully serve this birth. May she hold it forever in her heart
as a sweet picture of Your design ..
Thank You for Mary, Your music has flowed over me through her song. Her nearness
was my comfort.
Thank you for Pam, she has prayed me through so many journeys. Thank you for
orchestrating her time so she could celebrate with us. Her ministry brought such
peace.

Thank you for Delilah, her knowledge and calm came directly from your presence
in her. You knew just how much I would need that hip squeeze. You knew just how
much I needed her to attend me not only as doula, but also as friend.
Thank you for Joyce, you gave her the grace to watch and wait. Thank you for
sending me the midwife that would honor my requests. Thank you also for her
knowledge of gluten intolerance. That made all the difference. Thank you for
letting me trust you through her.

Thank you Lord, for Mercy. For Your mercy that saw our need and understood what
we did not. Only You could bring such sweet gifts. Thank you, thank you, thank
you.