Ellie’s Birth Story {a story where God is faithful}

 

 

Originally, in my head, this post was more clever. It was longer; it would have done well on Pinterest; it was a whole series to maximize my blog hits and generate interest.

But I’m going to let those things go because I just want to tell you the story. The story of Ellie Marie, and how God is faithful.

This story starts before Ellie even existed in my tummy. Honestly, I think it starts when I was young, and dreamed of having a little girl of my own. And it gets more real through the two painful miscarriages, when I felt (in the chaos of post-miscarriage hormones) that God was “telling me” I shouldn’t have more kids. When it felt all bleak, and dark, and like I’d squandered my chances of parenting a newborn by doing a crappy job the first two go-rounds.

And then we got pregnant. And we stayed pregnant. And it was a girl.

The whole time I’ve been opening tiny pink onesies, and picking out bedskirts, and trying on names, girl names…It was God, and His generous gifts to us.

Of course He’s always faithful, and every child a gift. But this time it felt so real. And I wanted this time to be different.

I didn’t want those epidurals, and the headaches they’ve caused me (literal headaches – horrible, incapacitating, paralyzing pain). I didn’t want the post-partum depression, and feeling like I was ten steps behind at parenting before I even started. I wanted to feel confident, and alive, and inspired to be a new mom this time.

I wanted it to go all differently.

So I made my goals and my plans. A doula, and a natural birth, and going into labor at home, and coming to the hospital 8-9 centimeters and ready to go, and somehow having this baby real, and un-foggy, and inspirational, for once.

It all went fine until 40 weeks. And then the days kept coming.

She was late. I’d never thought I’d be late, and certainly not more than a week late. But nothing was happening, other than a few random sleepless nights of contractions that didn’t go anywhere.

So here we were, talking induction. The doctor I loved could do the induction at 41 weeks, but if not then… well, the hospital was booked, and we’d have to wait nearly a whole other week. I was uneasy about being 42 weeks pregnant. That was never something I had felt comfortable with, for multiple reasons.

So we prayed about it, and decided I’d be induced at 41 weeks. It was a risk, but it felt like the right decision, one we’d been led to make. They’d first break my water, as I was already a few centimeters dilated. The doctor was sure that would do the trick.

But if not…they’d administer Pitocin. I’d heard horror stories, and I was afraid. I’d had it before…and it was awful, and a few hours later I caved to get an epidural. One doula told me she’d never seen anyone give birth naturally after taking Pitocin. Several moms told me it was hell.

I kept thinking I’d go into labor on my own, even right up until the night before…

But I didn’t.

So on August 1, we dutifully came to the hospital, and they broke my water at 7am. By the afternoon, I had made a measly progress of one whole centimeter and was contracting irregularly (though at times they were getting really painful). I was exhausted, afraid, hungry…and my morale, to say the least, was low. It seemed obvious that I wasn’t progressing. I could wait it out, but if I didn’t take Pitocin, we all knew I would become very tired, very weak, and very discouraged.

Around 3pm, walking the halls through painful d0ing-nothing-contractions, I had a breakdown. It didn’t make sense.

Why was this so difficult? Wasn’t I doing this all for good reasons? I wasn’t trying to be a superstar. I wasn’t trying to make a point. I was just trying to do what seemed like the right thing – to avoid that awful epidural that made me bedridden for days, and to be a better mom this time.

What was so wrong with that?

Why couldn’t God throw me a bone? Didn’t he know I had a horribly low pain tolerance? Didn’t he know I was weak, and could barely do this under the best circumstances, but certainly not with that awful Pitocin…?

It didn’t help that my nurse – who seemed to be supportive at first – was seemingly tempting me. Maybe the epidural will be better this time. Many moms get it. It’s not like you’re a failure. You just have to be realistic here.

I wanted her to stop talking, and suddenly, something happened inside me. It clicked. I took a deep breath, and I prayed.

There I was, kneeling through contractions, fully pregnant, hands on the crunchy white sheets of the hospital bed. And I prayed out loud. I guess the nurses were there; Todd and the doula heads-down praying with me.

Lord, I pleaded.

God, you know that I have felt like I needed to do this for a long time. You know why I want this, that I want to be a better mom, and I just don’t want those headaches. You know this all, and God, I feel like you gave me this vision. Lord, what do you want me to do? God, I’m in pain already, and you know that I can’t take much more. God, if you want me to do this, you’re going to have to give me the strength. There is no way I can do this, God. You are going to have to show up and help me do this. Show me the way.

When I got up, the fear was gone. I told the nurse to go get the Pitocin, and start me on the smallest dose and work up slowly.

For about an hour, it was bearable. I did my breathing, and tried stay relaxed and focused during the contractions. Around 5:00, things got crazy.

The most intense pain I have ever felt by a landslide, coming in waves, sharp and fast. I could do nothing during these contractions except grip the bed, and breathe in-and-out super fast, trying not to throw up. I felt like I must have been breathing wrong, all tensed up and quick, but the doula never corrected me. I think she knew these contractions were wracking me to the core, and I was doing all I could do to survive them.

The only thing that helped – as soon as one ended, I prayed in my head, “Lord, help me make it through the next one.” I noticed if I hadn’t prayed that, because the next one would come, and I wouldn’t be ready, and I’d tense up. God, help me make it through this next one.

I lost all sense of time and speaking. I had no idea what *progress* I was making. I couldn’t even think about it. I was just surviving. At one point, all of a sudden, around 5:45, I started pushing during the contractions. I don’t remember consciously thinking about it…I was just ready to push, I guess.

The room erupted. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? The nurse and doula started shaking me, and shouting right in my face. YOU CANNOT PUSH RIGHT NOW.

The nurse checked my progress (I’d been 4-5 centimeters 45 minutes ago) and she started freaking out, pressing buttons on her phone and my bed, screaming at my husband to pull some cord she couldn’t reach. Oh my gosh, the baby’s head is right there. Call for the doctor. I need backup in here ASAP.

Of course in the meantime, every time a contraction came, I was pushing, and they were yelling at me not to. The nurse apparently was holding the baby’s head in, the whole time, until the doctor came.

All I knew was that it was insanely frustrating to me, because I was ready to have this baby.

But there was no warmer in the room, there was no table, there were no doctors…nothing was ready. YOU DO NOT WANT TO HAVE THIS BABY YET. They kept shouting it in my face.

I guess it was about ten minutes of this, the nurse yelling at someone somewhere for the doctor, and none coming, and me ready to have this baby right this second.

I don’t remember pain from during his time. I was relieved. It was here. I had made it.

I saw the doctor’s shoes under the door, and he was taking a forever amount of time to wash his hands. And it wasn’t my doctor. I’d met him just once in all of my pregnancy. He walked in the room, I turned over (I had been on my side), pushed twice (Todd says three times?) and heard a soft, but strong little cry.

It was amazing.

And it was over.

I just kept crying, and saying, I can’t believe I did that. They put her on my chest right away, and she looked a little blue (they kept reassuring me that was normal), but she was crying and healthy and there.

After a long, arduous morning, it had all come so fast, and was so wonderfully over. For the first time after giving birth, I felt awake, not drugged, and alive, and remembering things, and making memories.

My doctor – the one I love – who removed my ectopic pregnancy, and told me he’d be seeing me again soon, beaming and pregnant – walked in the door seven minutes late. He was happy for me, but I could tell he was sad he’d missed the delivery. He held my hand and told me he was proud of me.

And I told him – I had to – God had answered my prayers and helped me.

I still cannot believe it all happened. I have rarely felt the Lord so clearly answer a prayer. I know He did. He answered that desperate prayer by the side of the bed, and I told Him that I would tell you all that He did.

See, here’s what I learned. You aren’t pregnant, probably, reading this story. Maybe won’t ever be. But whoever you are, whatever you are facing, I know this is true:

1. If the Lord gives you a job, He will help you do it. It’s not like me to talk about God giving us specific jobs. (Who are we to know, really? And I guess we don’t.) But I knew that I knew, in my very soul, that my desire for a natural birth was an unselfish, noble, and long-planted desire. It was too crazy to be my own. I wouldn’t want it for myself. And the Lord provided the way.
2. God gives us strength for this moment. Even at the time, I felt it significant that I prayed for strength to make it through the next contraction. That was all I could handle. So true for life, you know? Today, a week post-partum with this little one, on barely any sleep and consuming worries for meals, I just need to make it through today. Each day has enough worries of its own. He gives us strength for today.
3. God often takes us through our fears, and not out of them. I think in the back of my mind, I honestly thought that because I had a noble desire, God would grant me an easy-breezy labor and delivery. Instead, he brought me through my fears, but he was with me. I had to undergo a lot of pain. I had the stupid Pitocin. I wept, and gripped the bed, and nearly crippled under the pain – but I made it through. He brought me through.
4. God hears our prayers for strength. Whatever you are facing, whatever you fear or need help with – He hears what you ask. When I’ve told some people how I had Pitocin and a natural labor, I get a lot of, “wow, way to go.” And I just want to shout it from the rooftops: I’m not a strong girl. I’m a little girl, with big fears and a weak heart…who has a very big God. He is really there, and He is really listening. You just have to ask.
5. He is faithful, and he will provide. Even though it was so real, and less than a week ago, today I’m consumed by new worries. With this little one is a whole new person to love, to worry over, to fear for. Will she stay healthy? Will she have reflux like Ty, or allergies like Sam? Will she know Jesus? Will I be a good new mom this time? Can I really do it all, homeschool and raise a little one?

And I fear. I forget so quickly. How he is there, and he will answer these prayers, and he is faithful, and he is good. He is always good.

Dear Ellie:

One day (I’d like to think) you’ll read this story of when you were born. We are so glad you are here, Ellie. You are an answer to many prayers. I want you to know that from the very beginning of your life, God has been working. God loves you, Ellie, and He is a good God. You can ask Him for help. He loves you and will always be with you. Always remember that. We love you, Ellie Marie.

   

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