Wednesday, April 15th, 2015, I woke up tired. Judah woke me at 6:30am, so I got him breakfast and started making Arthur's tea and my coffee. I halfway tidied the kitchen while I made myself toast, my eyes still heavy, thinking about the day ahead.
All week I had been praying, ever more fervently and ever more frequently, that God would bring this baby. We had an appointment for 9am on Thursday to begin naturally encouraging labor, yet I still found myself longing for something different. I desperately wanted this baby girl to come in her own timing. I wanted to know that the moment labor began was exactly the right time. So I prayed. I knew that God was powerful enough to start labor; and, slowly, I also surrendered to the fact that His plan for her birth story may be very different than my plan for her birth story
I stared at my reflection in the mirror and thought, "In the next two days you will meet your baby girl." Tears filled my eyes. It was overwhelming just to think about. Again as I drove to Costco to do our grocery shopping this same thought struck me- that soon, very soon, I would be holding my daughter- and I cried for joy. Once I was home I sat down at the dining table and wrote out an extensive to-do list titled "DO EVERYTHING BEFORE CLARA COMES", in all caps, just like that, because I was determined to clean the entire house while I still had the chance.
Around 4pm I was on the phone with my mama. I was really emotional. I still wished that labor would begin on it's own, but despite the contractions I'd been having for an hour or so, I doubted that it would. I'd been having contractions every day- my body had been warming up for labor for weeks now, and I no longer paid much attention to them. I was afraid if I did, I'd get excited that it was really time and then be disappointed when it turned out to be nothing. I halfheartedly joked over the phone, "After all this, she'll probably come tonight, on her own, and all my stress over this will have been for nothing."
Arthur got home at 5pm. I sat and talked to him until Judah woke up, at which point I went back to my barely-conquered to-do list. I remember so clearly carrying the pack'n'play down the steps and out to the car where it goes, walking barefoot beneath the bright afternoon sun, thinking to myself, "If I AM actually in labor right now, this is pretty amazing of me." I then proceeded to clean out the car and haul bulk packages of juice and protein bars inside.
It was 5:50pm when Arthur was getting ready to leave and go to church for Awana. I told him I'd been having contractions but that it was probably nothing, but I asked him to leave his phone on just in case I needed to call him
Five minute later a very strong contraction hit me. I called Arthur.
"It was really strong," I told him, "But that might not mean anything. Should we wait thirty minutes and see where I'm at?"
"That's a good idea, babe. If you have another contraction in the next thirty minutes, call me."
I paused, "Oh. Well, I will. They're coming every five minutes or so."
"Oh! I'm turning around." He came home and told me to sit down so I could breathe and relax through the contractions while he fed Judah dinner and got him ready for bed. An hour passed. I texted my midwife an update, and she suggested I take a hot shower. I did, and by the time I'd gotten out and dressed again, I had begun moaning through contractions instead of merely breathing through them. When I noticed that, I wondered if the contractions were really that much stronger or if I was simply being dramatic.
It was about 8pm. I sat in the rocking chair, rocking forcefully through each contraction. Arthur made me a smoothie for dinner. He called his mom to come to our apartment and stay with Judah, and called my mom to meet us at the birth center. They were both 45 minutes away.
It was about ten minutes later that in the middle of the contraction I thought "We need to be there. We need to go." I looked at Arthur, "Call someone else. Someone needs to come stay with Judah because we need to leave. As soon as we can, we need to leave." Arthur called some friends and they headed our way and then he called Susan, my midwife, and told her we'd be leaving for the birth center soon.
I was moaning loudly through each contraction, and the last contraction before we left the apartment was so hard that I screamed through it. I never screamed when I was at any stage of labor with Judah, so that scream scared me. I told Arthur that we either needed to leave, or...not leave. As in, maybe we were going to have this baby on the bathroom floor.
There was a knock on the door. Arthur said, "They're here, let's go," with the eagerness of a man who very much does not want to deliver a baby on a bathroom floor. My friend Arina gave me a hug, stopped me when I started talking about "If Judah wakes up..." and assured me that everything would be great as sent out us the door.
I leaned hard on Arthur as we went down the stairs. There were some neighbor kids playing on the sidewalk, and for a moment I felt bad for moaning like I was in terrible pain (you know, because I was) and then instead I felt like saying, "This is real life, kids!" but due to the moaning, terrible pain, and certainty that this baby was coming soon I just kept walking quickly to the car.
It was 8:30pm when we got in the car. As soon as we did, both Arthur and I began praying aloud by turn. "Just get us to the birth center, God," I said.
The contractions came harder, faster, and stronger. It was almost a Daft Punk song, except there was nothing better about it. I screamed all the way from Federal Way to Tacoma. Thanks to having a former ambulance driver for a husband, this took about ten minutes- compared to the usual twenty-five. For ten minutes I had my eyes shut tight, my body tensed against the urges to have this baby.
I had been mentally preparing for this moment for months, thinking through how I wanted my labor experience to go. I knew that I had no control over how things progressed, but I also knew that I was in charge of my attitude about the labor and birth of our baby. For months I had worked hard to look forward to the miracle of her arrival instead of fearing the pain. I had focused on how I wanted to feel: Calm, patient, confident, strong. Unafraid of physical pain, in control of my body, trusting my instincts. And that is exactly how I felt in that moment- I was doing exactly what I wanted to be doing, exactly how I wanted to be doing it.
Then another contraction rolled in like a steady tide, and I closed my eyes and screamed.
We pulled into the parking lot fast. My midwife was waiting for us, and when she saw my face she shouted, "Is she pushing?"
"I'm not pushing, but I'm about to be!" I yelled, swinging my legs out of the car, voice tense and hard. I leaned heavily on Arthur as we walked quickly inside. Susan and her student midwife had just begun filling the tub and said that I could get in whenever I was ready. My entire pregnancy I had been looking forward to sinking into that deep water, but looking at the half-inch of water barely covering the bottom, I said that I would wait.
"Just get in now, babe," Arthur said. So I did, because I'd promised I'd listen to him during this delivery. It would turn out to be a very good thing that I listened to him.
I sat cross-legged on the floor of the birthing tub, still wearing my shirt and my glasses as the hot water rose slowly around me. Susan checked me; I was dilated to 9 centimeters.When I'd been in labor with Judah, I'd walked in at 8 centimeters dilated and had still labored for another three hours, so I didn't get my hopes up until Susan said, "Baby will be here within twenty minutes."
Arthur came back into the room. As my mom came into the room I asked her to bring my sister, Anna, in with her, so she stepped back out for a moment. Anna and my mom stepped inside, Mama kicking off her Birkenstocks by the door as Anna picked up the camera. I was on my knees in the water, leaning forward against the edge of the tub. I felt a light contraction coming and figured I may as well try to push through it, just to help things along.
"Do I even remember how to do this?" I wondered as I began pushing. I pushed anyways. And then I felt it.
It was strangely clear to me exactly what I feeling- I knew the moment I felt it. It was my baby's head hitting the inside of my pelvis.
I pushed harder. Resistance. "This is the ring of fire," I though, incredulous. Immediately I was alarmed, panicked almost. I felt like a cartoon character with an exclamation point above their head. This baby was COMING. NOW. RIGHT NOW. And no one else in the room had any idea.
Arthur sat beside me. Susan was walking around the side of the tub. My mama was walking across the room towards me. Anna stood near the door.
"Guys I think this baby is coming!" I said quickly. I kept pushing. I felt a faint pop and the pressure on my pelvic bone vanished. I felt the rushing of water. I felt, clearly and distinctly, tiny limbs flowing through my body.
It was 8:47pm.
"I think we just had a baby!" I said. I wasn't sure, though. Could that possibly have been it? Could it possibly be done? I was shocked and uncertain; I had no idea what to do next.
Susan reached into the tub, expecting to feel the baby's head. Instead her hand met the umbilical cord. "Pick her up, Sarah!" she told me.
I reached down into the water and my hands found her shape. I wanted to be afraid,
to be worried about hurting her, but there wasn't time for that. I
picked her up and turned her over to face me, my daughter, my Clara
Adelaide.She was blue and she wasn't crying, but her eyes were open and she was breathing. Her eyes met mine immediately and held there; calm, quiet, steady. It felt as if she was saying, "I'm here now." She seemed entirely unconcerned with the fact that she had just delivered herself, that she had rushed from within me and slipped gently to the floor of the tub unannounced. I was in shock, but she was calm.
Some of the longest moments of my life were those moments, pulling her out of the warm water and encouraging her to cry, to exercise her lungs. She did cry, and her color did improve. Clara stayed in my arms as Susan checked her, and Arthur and I stared at each other in tearful disbelief, amazed that our baby girl was here at last- and so suddenly!
It has been nearly five months since the night she was born, and already Clara has grown and changed so much, although it is nothing compared with the growth and change that I know is still yet to come. She is healthy, she is thriving. She is just as calm and content as the day she was born. She eats well, sleeps well, adores her big brother, adores her Daddy, and is generally one of the happiest babies around. Oh, my Clara, your quiet nature hides so well how wildly you entered this earth. I love you so.
I must add, now that seven more months have passed since I first wrote this, that the quiet baby girl I just spoke of has blossomed into a remarkably strong, vivacious little girl. She is independent, observant, precocious, funny, adventurous, clever, and incredibly sweet. She is not so quiet anymore.
Like her entrance into this world one year ago, she does what she wants, when she wants, on her own- with confidence and grace. Clara Adelaide has come out of her shell, and she is a beautiful force to be reckoned with.
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