Labor and Joy. A Story of Birth

As I sit to type, I am overwhelmed.  Overwhelmed by this story, overwhelmed by the beauty of such a miraculous life snuggled up to my body, dependent and innocently pure. 

For those of you stepping into the sharing of the journey through my memory in this particular blog post, I encourage you to find a time to cherish this memory with me—and not look for a quick an easy read.  This story is my treasure, and I wish to share it with those that will also linger in the mystery and awe with me.

As previous blogs express, this pregnancy has been a time to release control entirely.  In so many facets of life—I have long sought to control the environment around and within me…almost as if searching for a sense of security or self-driven purpose.  In approaching this birth, the deep overwhelming desire in me, was the continuum of this theme.  To not take any intervention, any control, over birth, the way God designed my body to have children.  Purely, because in my life I have taken control over too many areas…realizing that my form of control hasn’t always brought beauty and life. I knew that this birth was going to be a picture of what fully. releasing. control.  actually looks like.

And to approach this with more faith than fear, and knowing the joy to come…I was willing to experience whatever pain or suffering came my way to bring our Dan, forth.

Little did I know…the journey ahead was far longer, the mountain far higher, the climb far steeper…than anything I had ever heard or imagined birth and labor could be.

In the weeks leading up to the beginning of the birth process, I was enveloped with the most supportive community an expecting mother could ever ask for.  Our church filled with young parents reproducing like madness…and the news of our pregnancy was truly a “great, you too!” rather than some sort of big deal event.  Talk about an awesome place to feel that being pregnant and all the changes that come with it, is absolute normality.  Also surrounding me, were prayers from true “saints”…I mean, like the kind of people that actually followed Jesus and got their feet dirty walking out His mission of pouring out love on the un-loved…the kind of people that don’t stay between the pews…but sacrifice and devote their lives to prayer and selfless servitude for the Savior.  These kind of people, were surrounding me with depths of prayers and words of life that would later, become my rock in the storm. 

Also in the weeks leading up to the beginning of the birth process, was an increased level of expectation from friends and doctors.  All through the pregnancy I would tell people that I was not going to get hung up on “due dates” and that Danforth would come when the time was right.  Yet, of course, people continued to ask "is he here yet?!" and naturally look at the due date as some kind of mark upon which the “event” will occur.  So of course, with the continued surplus of friends asking if I was a mom yet, combined with the Doctors expectation of his arrival around the freaking “due date” (which was June 21^st)….I was pulled into the same level of expectation and anticipation for his arrival at times.  

As I expected, the due date came and went.  And the peace I had for him coming on “his time” also came and went.  Waves of anxiety mixed with waves of peace as I knew in my inmost being, that God would bring about this birth naturally and in the appropriate time—and as I also knew, that each passing day could bring new risks and challenges.

The Doctors played their role and dropped the “concerns” about my going into 41 weeks of pregnancy, rather than within the “40 week” ideal time frame.  Which of course gets to me, cos I’m obviously not someone who can allow boxes to be formed around me with some kind of “format”...and I know way to many moms that have had beautiful babies well into the 41, 42, and even 43 week marks.  Nonetheless, an ultrasound and non-stress test was an order.  We hoped to look at it as an opportunity to see that our son was safe and all was well rather than with the dumb paranoia that something could “be wrong”.

Friday June 27^th 2014

After an ultrasound and being strapped up to the monitor hearing Danforth’s heartbeating awesomely for over an hour or two…the Doctor came in with that “grave look” of bad news.  Apparently the ultrasound results showed the amniotic fluid surrounding him was low, and they wanted to induce immediately for concerns of his well being.  That heart sinking thing happened and Corey and I looked to each other with a bit of speechlessness.  We questioned the Doctor intensively about the causes for concern, asked for some alone time…and I immediately called my friend Mel, who is doula. 

Not only did she briefly educate me on the ability of amniotic fluid levels to fluctuate depending on hydration and baby pee…but she also happened to be with a group of women, including my mother-in-love, who immediately prayed for my peace and discernment in this.  I felt entirely at peace and empowered to continue to release control over this birth.  I firmly sat in my decision, despite the clarity of the Doctor’s well expressed concerns.  Due to the changing factors of amniotic fluid, and no other signs that Danforth was in distress…I firmly did not want to make a decision based on fear…and would wait.

Going into uncharted territory with the medical field is certainly uncomfortable.  One always hopes that the people educated and certified to protect you will be in agreement…but combining my respect for their position, with faith for my convictions…we went forward without induction.  No fear.  Besides…I knew my body was dehydrated after a full night of sleep and literally jumping from bed to the appointment I didn’t get my usual inhalation of agua.  I’m somewhat of a fish by the way—water consumption is my proud forte in life.  I was not worried about any low fluid issue…it just seemed impossible and improbable that it was, or could be, an ongoing issue for any amniotic sac attached to my body.  Those somewhat defensive thoughts aside, more so, was an overwhelming peace that Danforth was safe and would come when he was ready to. 

That evening...there was an incredible surge of joy and peace in the Engelhart home.  Perhaps you could say it was a bit supernatural, considering the factors...but it was what it was...and we had a beautiful evening of sunset colored hiking through a dream-like world of rolling green hills and richly wooded trails in the such marvelous land that we have called our home for some years now.  I recall standing on a peak with my husband and child tucked inside...overlooking our city at dusk...never feeling more complete and in love and at peace, than that very moment.  And perhaps...it was the rich deep breath of air, before the oncoming storm of the intensity and focus that would soon consume us for two straight days and nights of labor.

Saturday June 28^th 2014

The 'sense' woke me at 4am...and brought me through an incredible devotion and scripture time for two hours. There were three consecutive mornings of this...filled with a longing and desperation for birth to finally arrive...and ending in peace that passes understanding.  This morning was different...that longing and desperation was there...but was also overwhelmed with release in a way it had never been.

Sure enough, when I laid down to go back to bed...something happened deep within my body.  A something I had never experienced.  Not sure if the tingling was caused by excitement butterflies...or by my uterus waking up to do its job...to bring our son forth...whatever it was....after a time or two of these "butterflies" in my stomach...I knew...it was beginning.  The real deal.  And smiling, of course it would arrive at this time, less than 12 hours after the time the Doctors had wanted to induce my labor.

 Corey and I filled with excitement...and knew we had to relish in this early stage while it lasted.  We proceeded to sneak around town, undercover with our secret of the happenings, while conversing with friends and such things.  I would squeeze his arm during each contraction as an "undercover" signal that a contraction was happening...and he'd mark it on the timer.

Also fascinating was this ridiculous event called Run or Dye that happened to be going on.  So the streets were entirely filled with orange/pink/yellow/purple colored humans...and explosions of dry dye synchronized to music near the bay.  Talk about a sensory overload and memory for the keeps.

The day proceeded on being richly gorgeous and delightful. Yeah yeah...standard "describing words"...but seriously...in a way that was dreamy.  As we dipped body parts in Superior's refreshing chill and walked along the shore....I have never seen such a breathtaking beautiful dream-like sparkle upon the waters since our long summer days upon Zephyrus in 2011.  There is something that changes when something unusual is occurring around oneself, or within oneself...that causes certain hues of color and sparkles of light to stand out in a striking and overly-delightful way.  And this moment, on a wide open empty stretch of beach...was just that.

Along with the theme of "supernatural timing" was the fact that my mother had been planning to drive up on this very day.  Due to the 5 hour away circumstances..she had bags packed for weeks waiting for the moment when I would call and go into labor.  Though, as the days passed without any labor happening...and in moments of my distress...we decided it would be nice to have some mommy-daughter time together anyways.  So fortunately, she was really extra prepared to be on the road this fine day.

This part of the long story made short...the day followed with figuring out breathing patterns...groaning through contractions...pillows...positions...resting....communication technique practicing...and such things as are typical with early labor.  The intensity of the sensations grew throughout the day...but still spaced out anywhere from 7 to 20 minutes apart, just like they had been since 6:30am.  Another beach trip with the grandma's and grandpa...and cute Nooma doggie...was just another one of those perfectly gorgeous moments...where every hue seemed richer, every breath sweeter, because of the approaching event.

And into the night.  As evening had approached...my legs and body began shaking like mad.  I thought it was chills...turns out (I learned later on)...it was just adrenaline rushing through my body.  My legs and body would continue to shake with such intensity at unexpected times over the next 20 hours or so.  

As a side note, Mel (the doula friend)...had an image in prayer for me of a hand taking "the clock off the wall" in the weeks proceeding birth.  This image started to become essential as the evening and night came on...as I wondered when I would get to the "5 minutes apart" contractions or other signs that mean it's time for the hospital.  Keeping her words in my mind, I pushed time aside and let my uterus push when it decided to--in the form of contraction.

Corey became essential in a way that early labor hadn't demanded. With each contraction, he was there reminding me to breath...bringing tools to help...water...food...chairs...whatever....and soon began the times where solely leaning on his body and swaying, was all that felt right. 

There were small pockets of sleep through the night...of course..I would wake up to sway..or groan and breathe...and he would often wake with me to offer his stable body as a standing support.  But towards the end of the night, I decided it best to let him catch a few extra winks...while I did my best to quietly breath through the ever-increasing intensity of each surge.

Sunday, June 29th 2014

Dawn approached...exhaustion was hanging under both our eyes.  Corey sensed it was time to go to the hospital, even though contractions were still ranging 7-10 minutes apart.  And in the theme of perfect timing again....my mucus plug (might sound gross to some...but noteworthy as it was my first sign of actual progression!) made its appearance just moments after he was on the phone notifying the hospital of our coming.

It was 7:00am, and we were off.  A wet sort of rainy day.  Corey noted "a good day to get things done".  I felt so ready to fall into the arms of hospital staff...though I sought no interventions or pain medication...something about being there, in...the room....just felt good and secure...and spacious.  

They estimated about a 3 centimeter dilation of the cervix.  For the non-birth-minded...10 cm means you push. 3 and 10 are a long way from each other...but I knew that progression can happen at unexpected rates and was happy that things were going in the forward direction. 

Well happy might not be the term...just more relieved.  You see, with each passing hour, the intensity surrounding the core location of my body would grow.  Each seeming stronger than the last.  Each causing feelings, that when its peak of strength was reached...one simply could not possibly endure it...a few seconds would pass...then the intensity would subside...and with it...the memory of just how intense it was.

This continued for many hours....time sort of melted...in my memory..it all feels like one long night..because my eyes were so often closed to block out any images and sound.  Just silence and darkness...and the breathing notes of air from my lungs...and Corey's voice reminding me to relax certain body parts that would automatically flex their muscles in protest of the surging intensity of each contraction in my center.

People came and went....grandmas...nurses...people...people...my mind was in another dimension of space and time.  I was not Meg to me anymore...just a body forced to relax and lungs forced to breathe....focusing on the present task...in two words....an endurance test.  An IV was attached to my body at one point....a blood pressure cuff from time to time....Corey would dutifully insert a straw into my mouth so I could gulp water for my dry mouth between the surging moments....a routine was in place.  Survival from moment to moment..and absolute concentration.

Well, and a few laughs in between.  I must say, Meg did appear between contractions to smile or laugh or communicate with the nurses and family from time to time....but for the most part...my memory takes me deeper, into a place I never knew I could exist for so long....to just be in silence.  And be still...and wait.

Pain isn't the word I would use to describe this day.  Long suffering would be.  How can it be described beyond that...I am wondering.  There are not notable milestones in which I can describe the sequence of events....what it truly was...was a battle of the mind...to force the body into submission.

What more...was as evening approached...the shift nurse's time was coming to an end already.  I had grown fond of her, she had been there to teach me breathing patterns needed to handle new waves of intense surges, pre-coaching me on the pushing process, was there when my water broke.....all these things led me to believe...the time was coming near when I would have a June 29th son.  I was exhausted, but excited...sensing that within a few hours I would be holding my son.

Then the Doctor checked my progress again.  

You see, the last time they had checked (possibly 5 hours earlier or so) they estimated 6 or 7 centimeters (remember I was at 3 when I came in).  Well, it turned out....as the sun dipped lower in the horizon...I was still at 6 centimeters.  

Never have I experienced such devastation. I recall, staring at the item in the above image...feeling so desperately behind where "I ought to be".  The mental strength it had taken to get to this point was now in extremely low supply...to even consider going forward.  I recall learning that when a woman reaches a point she believes she can't go on..that the end is near....but this was not the case.  The end was nowhere in sight.

Intervention was brought up.  I was on the verge of throwing my hands up and asking for an epidural and a c-section on the spot.  This wasn't what the Doctor had offered, thank God, because I might have been too weak to say no at that point.  

Corey and I walked up and down the hall...well...weakly moved.  For the first time in my life (upon reflection) I can begin to relate to one who has battled an ongoing disease or cancer.  As I moved with such lifelessness and weakness in my body...leaning on the IV stand and Corey's arm for support....my morale was defeated...the length...the intensity...the lack of progress...the lack of control I had to influence any sort of change in the circumstance.  My breathing turned into helpless little putters of cries of defeat.

My mother stepped into the picture in a mighty way.  They had offered (recommended) pitocin and statol.  Pitocin to increase intensity and speed of contractions...and statol to help me rest in between (not pain medication).  I saw these as an absolute defeat.  My mom came in with strength to say that I had done an awesome job, and that these medicines were tools to help me move foward.  She herself had long labors with both my sister and I...with slow progression and needed pitocin for both births.  To look at this as an opportunity to be open to help when times call for it.

After a few moments of trying to relax in the tub...I couldn't handle myself...my exhaustion.  I agreed to receive small doses of each.

And, rest came to me.

I entered deeper into a stillness and silence...as the statol brought me into deep rest in the moments between contractions.  I was asleep...and awake only to breathe through the continued increasing contractions...stronger than ever by now.  Apparently I even slept through some of them.

And this was just the kind of small intervention I needed to progress.

As the two items began to wear off...the city was covered in a blanket of night once more.  Midnight was approaching...and I was dilating with success! 

Monday, June 30th 2014

The time came for pushing.  The room transformed around me...and within me, the rest combined with adrenaline for the approaching moment caused a new sense of rejuvenation.  Everyone was thrilled...the grandmas included.  The new nurse on the new shift was in and soon was coaching me through the pushing and breathing process.

There was an unusual sort of joy...and even laughter as I recall between moments of pushing.  Certainly intensity...but a new sort of satisfaction from being able to act on it.  It felt as if a crowd was surrounding me with excitement and anticipation.  Our resident doctor, the doctor that initially wanted to induce me on Friday, two nurses, two mothers (grandmas), and my husband....and Danforth inside.

Again, time melted.  It was essential for me to "take the clock off the wall" in my mind.  Of course, 15 minutes of pushing wasn't going to produce a baby that had taken about 42 hours to get to this stage.  However, two hours passed...and the Doctor stepped in with "that grave look" (the same look as the one on Friday)...to express the concerns for the absolute lack of progress that was happening.  In two hours of pushing, Danforth's head had not descended in the least...even though my pushing was apparently extremely efficient as far as not lacking in "effort".  And.....the dreaded word...C-section was said.

Corey stepped in challenging this "time limit" thing, by reading an article off of some medical website on his phone.  The nurse at my side got extremely frustrated saying "lets get things going so we can have this baby the right way, yeah?"...and threw a catheter in me to drain my bladder.  We were "allowed" close to a half hour more of pushing...and position changes...

I recall the voices of the nurses, my mother, my husband...all with me...with such longing in their words as I pushed. The sound of longing had changed from excitement...to desperation.  I recall this doctor sitting with that stone cold face...looking at me...looking at the time.  There was a new sort of desperation in me and on me.

All...to no avail...

The C-section was ordered.  The room was silenced.  My mother left so she could find a place to cry out and implore to the Father of all creation on my behalf.  At this time, my aunt, sister, and dear friend all happened to wake in the night (this was around 2:30am)...and were immediately in prayer.  Corey requested the room to be cleared.

It was just the two (three) of us.  Corey in desperate tears I have never seen him in...holding me...I was silent and numb.  All of these hours....to end so quickly in such a manner.  I recall looking at the face of a man who had stood by my side for 44 hours of labor...he, as a reflection of the defeat that I felt so deeply in my soul.  I had no words, my prayer was short, "Lord help."  Though I was devastated...I did not doubt that God was still in control, and not I.

I recall having an image in my mind...as the contractions continued on...becoming stronger...and my ability to push now taken away...now standing as purposeless and useless pains instead....an image of pushing Danforth out with just Corey and I in the room...and then moments after, having the medical staff return in dismay....but this was just a dream...I thought. 

My cross necklace and wedding rings were removed.  Corey and the nurses became covered in the blue scrubs...symbolic of the foreign land of surgery birth....so far from the land of God's design for what I truly felt He had promised me in this birth process...for deeper reasons and whys than I can publicly say.    

The c-section Doctor came in to meet us and make sure we were consenting to this.  We were clear that this wasn't what we wanted, and we had no choice.  For some kind of compassion, or prompting...he offered to check Danforth's progress and let me push so he could feel how things were going.

And to our surprise...after so much "concern" from the other Doctor....we were met with optimism from this c-section Doctor. !? In a bashful splash of words...he more or less said he could see no reason why I couldn't keep pushing.

And that, is precisely what I did.  

After he left the room...before any other doctors came in...Corey and I...and the two nurses...we started getting mad.  Like real mad.  Like the kind of mad that gets things going.  Out of nowhere...progress was in action.  Danforth's head was in sight.   With each push...the excitement and awe increased in each of their voices.

I recall Corey exclaiming with amazement that he could see Danforth's head and that it had hair!  At some point, my sweat glands opened and started working. Exhaustion was a thing of the past, the most intense and driven focus my mind and body and soul has ever had.  The descent was on...and the Doctors entered into the room and were engaged with what was going on with me this time around.

With each pushing...I focused in on the heartbeat monitor they had on Danforth.  This assured me he was in no distress, like "they" had feared...and he and I were going to actually make this happen.  The joy in Corey's voice increased...the nurse in the other ear encouraging me to get mad mad mad and push push push.  Just like in the movies...the word push became the first word on the tip of everyone's tongues. 

And just like the movies...just before the huge moment of explosion, or revelation.....the slow motion...large deafening silence....and then............

he came.

He came, in one fast, fluid, unhindered motion...........he came.

I'll let the above pictures speak their thousand words each.  For the memory of this moment I have, is more speechlessness than anything else.  I'll let the pictures remind you that Corey never got out of his scrubs...and we never left the room.  I'll let the pictures tell you, Danforth knew immediately who his father was, with an outstretched arm. I'll let the pictures tell you, that there is awe...pain...surprise...exhaustion...and sheer joy when a child is born.  

The room was a room of celebration and awe.  The Doctors were in awe of this "uncharted territory" once again...and it had ended perfectly.  Danforth was perfect in every way.  Though they congratulated me with "well done" and such things, I recall saying, "This was not by my own strength."  This was "Christ in me."

As Danforth was immediately placed on me...the most beautiful thing in the room to me in that moment, was actually Corey.  Corey who had seen a miracle occur through me.  He who had been at my side from the beginning to the end, not ceasing to support, encourage, and love me.  His tears were my own....and Danforth's cries, the most beautiful sound in the world.

 I have heard a quote "When a child is born, so is a mother."  And I will truly say, as I recover from the 4th degree tears...the swelling...the upper body soreness from 4.5 hours of pushing...that in and through this whole extraordinary event, I was truly born again.

The scars I will have on my body, remind me of Jesus's scars.  With the new life that has come through me, through sacrificially bearing the burden of labor for 46 hours....these scars are a reminder.  A reminder that in order for life to be born, a death of some kind is often necessary.  Jesus on the cross is more than a stupid redundant nursery rhyme...it's a real, raw experience...of what dying to our flesh looks like...so we can experience greater life than we've ever dreamed of having.

And part of experiencing that new life, is also releasing it.  As I returned from getting stitched up from my major tearing, I recall watching Danforth be held by one of the nurses that was part of the delivery team. At first I felt that she shouldn't be holding my child..that I should be since I just labored all that time for him...etc.............but then.....it dawned on me...and continues to dawn on me as I watch him get passed from grandma to grandpa to uncle to husband to friend.....

That a major part and purpose of our life, is to allow ourselves to be vessels.  Vessels through which life occurs, and life that goes beyond ourselves.  Indeed, Danforth was attached to me, and will always be in some sense...but part of this is releasing control...that he will be his own person and go onto bless other people's lives in a way that has nothing to do with me.  And that is liberating and  that is terrifying.

But for now, I cherish these moments where he grows from his 8 lb birth body into one day being a young man.  I will cherish these moments where he is nourished by my body and dependent upon my care.  It is an awesome responsibility, and nothing compares.

And when I see him, I recall the labor it took to bring him here....and especially the joy his life has caused in the lives around me.  Some of the joy in myself is still confusing and processing...it isn't immediate love and gooey feelings.  Part of falling in love is experiencing life together.  What I can say, is I have never experienced something so natural, a desire so strong...as to care for this child of mine, and sacrifice whatever the cost...to assure he is provided with abundant life.

Now I'm beginning to understand why Jesus came.

Sincerely,

M

And as a PS...

For those of you that have read this lengthy summary of life events, I would also like to add that on the "one week anniversary" of Danforth's arrival, I guess you could say we "celebrated" with the purchase of our FIRST HOME!  We are now homeowners in the mobile sense of the term.  It already comes with some grand stories and breakdowns...that will be shared in future blogs.

So there will be no..."and then life became normal after having a kid" for us--for the time being at least.  No house with a foundation or fence for these two wayfarers...we plan to caravan South with the tentative destination of Austin. Danforth is a part of our family, and that means, we are still Corey and Meg...with the wide open road under our feet once again.