Newborn Survival Phase: 4 Things Large Family Moms Know

Newborn Survival Phase: 4 Things Large Family Moms Know

Newborn Survival Phase: 4 Things Large Family Moms Know

We are expecting our fifth child.

This means we have been through the newborn survival phase 4 times and have chosen to enter it again. 

 

My body goes through nausea, weight gain, and incredible expansion.
Nights are spent nursing and comforting a baby instead of sleeping or cuddling with my husband.
Days are filled with diapers and rocking. 
4 Things Large Family Moms Know about the newborn survival phase of motherhood

Newborns throw off any semblance of routine developed for my family. They push self care to the back burner for a time as even something as simple going to the bathroom or taking a shower requires a whole lot of organization and perfect timing. 

 

Everything gets reset to accommodate this new little person and his or her needs. 

I understand that many people don’t want to go through this phase again and the love the “freedom” of closing the door to their baby bearing years. I understand that some babies require so much more care than others and the thought of going through another newborn survival phase sends shivers of dread up your spine. I have been there and understand completely.

 

And yet…

 

My body, just like yours, is designed to bear babies. Our bodies are designed for interrupted sleep. They are designed to blow up and share its nutrients with a growing little being. Our families are designed to have their routines turned upside down to accommodate someone with less capability to adapt than them. 

 

The newborn survival phase is normal.

While a baby is designed to be in this phase temporarily, our bodies are designed to be in it for a few decades. Why would God design women that way without also equipping them and their families to go through it multiple times?

The newborn survival phase is normal.

While a baby is designed to be in this phase temporarily, our bodies are designed to be in it for a few decades. Why would God design women that way without also equipping them and their families to go through it multiple times?

4 Things Large Family Moms Know about the newborn survival phase of motherhood

I started reading large family blogs early on in my mothering journey. I figured if anyone has the mothering-homemaking juggle figured out it’s them, right? Now while these women are so humble and would never admit to having it all figured out, there are certain things I’ve picked up on that they DO understand:

 

1. Having kids is normal. People have been doing it since the beginning of time and it doesn’t take a special person to be a mom of many.

 

2. The cyclical nature of the women’s body during child bearing years is normal. It is, rather, abnormal to choose to stop this process within our bodies. (Please note I say this without judgement for whatever choice women make in this regard. I’m speaking specifically from a physical and scientific standpoint here.)

 

3. Every baby is a welcome blessing into the family. The rest of the children pick up on the wonder of a new sibling and often take the opportunity to prove their “biggness” by helping out more, whether that be with sib-care, home care, or just being more empathetic to the fact that mama and baby need a little more patience and TLC. Children in larger families learn to give of themselves out of necessity. 

 

4. The housekeeping will wait. The kids will be fed. Everything does fall into place, albeit not perfectly or immediately. But you do find new rhythms or work back into old ones. The world does not fall apart with a new baby. 

When I was pregnant with our first, I had several moms of 4 or more tell me that the first one rocks your world, the 2nd explodes it, the third feels like you’re truly outnumbered and the 4th just glides into place. Anything above 4 you barely notice. 

 

While I have seen examples close to me that have had fairly different experiences (like the mom of two 2 and under who found herself pregnant with twins, or the mom who discovered a child had special needs only to be expecting another right as they adjust to the diagnosis) but it holds pretty true with the vast majority of people I speak with.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not naive enough to believe this 5th baby will truly slip in unnoticed. I have had 2 high needs babies (one of whom could scream at decibel levels I have never yet heard another child reach). I have friends who had major complications with and after birth, or those who’s precious babies have life altering medical diagnosis. I have even watched several friends suffer the loss of their child. 

But I trust that, in spite of all the variables, God will sustain me through another newborn survival phase and anything that comes from it. I welcome the “reset” so that not only am I humbled again by the awe of a new little creation, but now I have even more children to share in the admiration (and care). 

So as I wait for this newest little one to arrive, why don’t you pop on over to something I wrote way back in 2009, when my not 11yo was only 1.5 to learn why Commitment to a Newborn is Worth It. You’ll also want to follow me on Twitter or Instagram and plug in your email below because that’s where you’ll first hear about the BIG NEWS when he or she makes his or her appearance and I begin sharing our (planned) home water birth details. 

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Unexpected Pregnancy and Unassisted Birth

Unexpected Pregnancy and Unassisted Birth

Unexpected Pregnancy and Unassisted Birth

This is a story about my experience with unassisted pregnancy and unassisted birth. But in order to do his story justice, I need to start months before he was even conceived.

Right after my 3rd son turned two, I became pregnant. We were overjoyed as we had always wanted 4 children. We choose to keep my pregnancies secret for the first 3 months and this time was no different.
Actually, it was different. I didn’t have morning sickness or first trimester fatigue. After being sick for 7 or 8 months with my previous two pregnancies, the healthy feeling was a welcome relief. I had spent the previous two years making big changes to improve my health and I guess it helped. I called the midwife and she had an opening and was excited to take me on. there was no midwife in the area for my previous pregnancy so I had no choice but to have an unassisted birth. I felt the baby move at about 9 weeks, around the same time as his or her older brothers. It was a surreal feeling to have no morning sickness. If it wasn’t for the movement I regularly felt, I wouldn’t have believed I was even expecting. I had a pattern of a miscarriage before healthy pregnancy with my first two and, when I conceived my third son, God told me to trust Him and I felt secure in the pregnancy. That was the first time I didn’t have a miscarriage. This time I felt like He was just telling me to wait on Him.

This time I felt like He was just telling me to wait on Him.

And wait I did. I believe my heart always knew that that baby wouldn’t be with us for a long time. Around 9.5 weeks I had a bit of spotting and it started to feel like a waiting game. I waited on Him and I waited to say goodbye. I miscarried the baby at almost 11 weeks. After my first two miscarriages, I conceived on the next cycle but this time was different. Cycle after cycle came and went with nothing. Apparently God wanted me to continue waiting. Eventually I made peace with the fact it could be God’s will for us to have 3 biological children instead of 4.

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    After 6 pregnancies conceived after 1 try, pregnancy number 7 was an unexpected surprise after 6 months of waiting. As excited as we were, I still had that surreal feeling. I called the midwife and she was unavailable during the time I was due so I had to start wrapping my head around another unassisted pregnancy and birth. I didn’t have morning sickness. I still hadn’t felt the baby move at 10 weeks. And then not at 11 weeks. I didn’t feel pregnant. Maybe I wasn’t really willing to believe I was, just in case. The midwife, who had become a friend, was able to get me booked in for an ultrasound, as per my request, which is something I hadn’t wanted for my previous pregnancies. At 12 weeks, the day before the ultrasound. I thought I may have felt the baby move. Thankfully the ultrasound technician confirmed what my husband already trusted to be true: we were going to have a baby!

    .I experienced only two weeks of morning sickness, from week 14 to 16. Though my uterus got huge (people commented how I must be excited for my Christmas baby and were shocked and embarrassed when I told them I was only 5.5 months) I didn’t have any water retention and didn’t feel like I gained as much weight as my previous children. (For the record, I did. I just carried it differently. I gained over 70lbs each pregnancy.)

    I hired a doula who I met when she and I both attended my friend’s birth. She seemed a bit unsure about an unassisted pregnancy and birth but, as she got to know me better, became more comfortable with the idea. We exchanged birth resources (I have quite a home library) and swapped pregnancy and birth advice. She came to pray for me and encourage me when I ended up in the hospital at 35 weeks. (This was for a non pregnancy related incident. You can read a bit more about this experience in a post I wrote about How to Deal With Anxiety.)

    I sent her a text a few weeks before my due date to let her know I had been having fairly strong pre labour contractions every evening for a week. I kept thinking, hoping, I would wake up to have a baby but they always stopped when I went to sleep. It was very similar to my first three experiences of prelabour: 3 days for my first, 5 days for my second, and 8 days for my third.

    The week after I had nothing. I hoped for an early birth because I get SPD (symphisis pubis dysfunctions is a separation of the pelvic bone due to the relaxin hormone that helps your body give birth) pretty bad near the end and spent most of my day sitting on my couch so I didn’t injure myself. After 5 days of no prelabour, I figured God wanted me to keep waiting. I made peace with the fact that it would be another two weeks before I could meet my baby and be done with the SPD pain. That was Thursday morning. My doula let me know she wanted to head to the city on Friday (a drive of more than 2 hours one way) and I joked with her about bringing back 3 or 4 Ikea bookcases for me.

    That evening I went to bed and snuggled with my 3 year old. I cherished his nighttime snuggles, knowing it was nearing his daddy’s turn to take over his night-time needs. He curled up around my belly and I breathed in the fresh scent of his dirt and grass infused hair.

    I woke up around 4:30am to go to the bathroom. (I don’t think I mentioned another symptom I didn’t have was a baby sitting on my bladder so nighttime potty breaks weren’t a regular occurance.) Our bathroom is down the stairs and on the other end of the house so, after traipsing through the cold house, I was very ready to crawl back into my nice warm bed. I was nearly asleep again when I got what felt like a contraction. I checked the clock (it was 5am) and started timing. 6 to 7 minutes apart. I started 2 minutes apart with my third son so I figured I had lots of time but, after 3 or 4 contractions, I realized I couldn’t sleep through them. Poked my husband and told him he wouldn’t be going to work because we were going to have a baby. He mumbled and I headed downstairs. I started my contraction timer app and noticed that walking downstairs had shortened the interval to 2 to 3 minutes. I shouted up the stairs to Adam to get the pool ready and sent a text to my doula. She didn’t respond so I waited until a contraction was done and called to let her know she should probably reschedule her trip to the city. It was pretty close to 6am at this point and she was getting up anyway and lives less than ten minutes away. She came in the door and was surprised by how far into active labour I already was.

    Adam was heating water on the stove and filling the pool. I was so concerned about the pool because it had a leak and I was convinced he hadn’t taped it up well enough. The hose also didn’t fit on our faucet so I was concerned about the water spraying all over the kitchen. My doula got right to work and held my hips and rubbed my back in a way that calmed me. We were joking around in between contractions and Adam was making fun of me for being so obsessed with the pool issue (that according to him wasn’t an issue at all).

    Jesse, the 3 year old, came down the stairs first. He was some great comedic relief as he jumped on the mini trampoline beside me like a bouncy little energizer bunny. I love how he asked why the pool was downstairs and we told him the baby was coming and he just went with the flow. Birth is not something that kids naturally fear. Caleb and Isaac, almost-9 and 6, came downstairs right after I got into the pool. They were so quiet but so excited to see me in the pool and knew that the baby would be out soon. I thought they were quietly excited anyway. Apparently they were making fun of the noises I was making. (I’m a pretty vocal birther). Jesse was holding my cup of water and made sure to offer it every time I looked up at him. My doula was holding my hand. Adam was telling the boys to be more polite and keeping track of the water temperature and level.

    So that is what the rest of them were up to while I did my thing. I am always surprised by how coherent I am, even during the final stages of labour. I laboured in the pool for a while and gave myself pep talks about how I could do this and to breathe the baby down in between contractions. During contractions I would say, out loud so everyone could hear, about how it wasn’t working and that I just wanted to be done and that I was taking too long and things didn’t seem to be progressing.

    During pushing contractions my inner pep talks all but stopped as I tried to figure out why the baby wasn’t out yet and why it was taking so long. I quickly discovered the baby wasn’t in a good birthing position and I went from hands and knees to upright on my knees. He immediately went from being pushed backwards to going forwards and crowning . I told them all I didn’t know what way he was going to go, behind me where someone else would have to catch him or forward where I could grab him.

    His head came out and I felt something very soft and squishy. During pregnancy I had thought he might be breech so I wondered if that was confirmation. Then I felt his eye and breathed a quick sigh of relief, knowing his head was out and the hardest push was done. It felt like ages until the next contraction came and his little body came sliding out into my waiting hands. He opened his eyes and looked straight at me the instant he was out of the water. He has been awake and moving all during labour and was totally ready to greet the world. I kept saying, “he’s MY baby!” The emphasis on “my” because he is the first of my sons that I see myself in. It felt like a little me looking back at me. He looked over my shoulder at his brothers and I said to Jesse, “he sees you.” My husband was in disbelief and asked, “it’s another boy?” That was when I realized I didnt actually know and should probably check. Sure enough, he was all boy.
    Since the day my husband and I started talking about having children, we wanted 4. I always said I would rather have 4 boys than 4 girls and, over the years, my heart grew more and more fond of the idea of 4 sons. With Asher, which means “happy” in Hebrew, I felt like my heart would burst with joy at my dream coming true. He is now over a month old and I still spend most of my day on the couch, snuggling a sleeping baby or starting into the eyes of a very attentive newborn. People have asked if I’m disappointed to have only sons. I tell them I couldn’t be more happy.

    Asher was born at 7:28am and was 7lbs and 18.5 inches long. What felt like a long labour was only about 2.5 hours with only 6 pushing contractions. I thank the Lord that everything went so smoothly!

    If you would like to read about my third son’s birth, it was my first unassisted pregnancy and unassisted birth and truly a spiritual birth experience

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    Normalizing Birth for Children

    Normalizing Birth for Children

    Normalizing Birth for Children

    My eldest son witnessed his first birth around 1.5 years old. He stood with his little rubber boots on the fence and held on to the cable and watched as the calf emerged, feet, then face, then a wet body slipping out onto the bedding pack. I’d like to say it was a beautiful and life changing moment for him, but it wasn’t. He didn’t think there was anything much special about it. He saw calves of various sizes every day and he must have just realized that the life of a calf has to start somehow. So when I told him that the mama cow was pushing a calf out of her body, he took it as a perfectly normal occurrence.

    Over the years, he (along with his brothers) has witnessed numerous births. Thanks to YouTube he has seen elephants, giraffes, horses, dolphins, and several others. Births he has witnessed live include numerous calves and kittens as well as the births of his younger brothers. Yes, you read that right: he witnessed the births of his brothers. And he will likely be present when our newest baby makes his or her appearance earth-side in a few weeks. (If you are interested, the story for the unassisted home water birth for my third son.)
    I have been asked by friends and care providers whether I was concerned about traumatizing my kids by having them at their siblings’ births. I explain that I do some prep work including talking about the process, reading stories about birth, and even watching birth videos online. Sometimes this convinces them that it’s “okay” for me to have my kids present (as if I need their permission) and other times they remain skeptical. Inwardly, I’m reminded of how warped most people’s opinions of birth are.

    Birthing a child is not a medical disorder or event any more than conceiving or carrying that child is.

    My eldest’s attitude toward birth hasn’t changed from the first time he witnessed it: it’s a normal process that has been happening since the beginning of time. Birthing a child is not a medical disorder or event any more than conceiving or carrying that child is. It’s a time that requires privacy, love, and intimacy, much the same as the event that created that new life in the first place.
    I believe that farm life has allowed our children recognize that birth is a natural process and not something to be feared or managed. Through farming research and experience, my husband knows that cows labour better if they are left to their own devices and we have a much lower intervention rate than on farms where farmers intervene or manage births within their herd. That was the number one reason why he shifted his mind on human birth (yes, he compared me to a cow, and no it wasn’t the first or last time).
    [bctt tweet="Women were designed to birth, and God doesn't make mistakes."]
    I enjoy research and statistics and all of the research shows that birthing is largely influenced by the mother’s mindset. Speaking from an evolutionary standpoint, women have been birthing since the beginning of time and, therefore, must be properly suited to such a task. From a God standpoint, women were designed to birth and God doesn’t make mistakes. While I’m grateful for the availability of medical intervention when necessary, most women don’t need it and their birth experience is only aggravated by it.
    This evening my eldest, nearly 9, asked me why his friend’s sister was born at a hospital and through surgery. I told him that was the mother’s choice based on the information she had received. He told me it seemed silly to need a hospital and surgery for something a simple as having a baby. I agree son. May you keep this peace and trust regarding birth when it comes time for your own wife to have your children.

    What are your thoughts and/or experiences with children attending birth? 

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    Trust: Our Spiritual Home Birth Journey Part 2

    If you haven’t yet read part 1 of this story, you can find it right here.

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    Trust: Our Spiritual Home Birth Journey Part 2 - Aimed at the Heart

    I crawled back into bed thinking that I should get some rest before the baby came. That lasted all of one contraction and I was back up on my feet. I told my husband, who asked if I could wake him in about an hour, when things were really going to be rolling. I went downstairs to call the midwife (who, by a miracle, came into our lives about 2.5 weeks earlier). I told her I was contracting about 2 minutes apart and she said, “Fill the pool. You know what to do. I’ll see you when I get there.” I called up to Adam to come downstairs to fill the pool. I did NOT want to do the stairs again! And, thankfully, calling to him didn’t wake the kids.

    It felt like he asked me about one hundred questions about where all the supplies were and where I wanted the pool and such. I answered between contractions and I got out the birth box with all the herbs and essential oils and puppy pads all the things I thought I would need.

    I was shocked at how soon I started vocalizing. I thought it was just me being a noisy birther. I decided to labour a bit on the toilet while I waited for the pool to fill up. Adam said we had run out of hot water and that the pool was leaking (apparently the plug wasn’t secured) and he hoped it wouldn’t warp the laminate (that we had just installed two weeks prior) or go down into our furnace. He was busy. I was busy.

    Trust: Our Spiritual Home Birth Journey Part 2 - Aimed at the HeartI was in the bathroom for probably all of 5 minutes when I started to get pushy. I’m guessing Adam heard me and he came into the bathroom to find I had draped myself over the birth ball. He tried to convince me that I should move to the pool. I told him it wasn’t going to happen and I was just going to have the baby on the bathroom floor. I had it all planned out. The position I would deliver in, the way I would catch the baby and the towel I would grab to warm us. The picture was painted and I was not going to be told otherwise.

    Then he did the unthinkable: he stole the ball.

    He rolled it a few feet at a time across the house, bribing me to follow between contractions. He told me I would regret if I didn’t have the baby in the water. I told him I didn’t care and to just give me the freaking ball back! He didn’t. The monster! I thought, “What if Lynn (the midwife) walks in right now and is greeted by me naked, crawling along the floor in the living room? She probably won’t care, she is a midwife after all. But what about the cold gust of air that’s sure to follow?” In spite of the fact that it was the middle of the night and I was in the process of pushing a baby out, I had a surprising amount of clarity about the situation and an entire internal dialog about it. I’m pretty sure it was internal. Most of it anyway.

    I crawled to the pool in about 4 contractions and Adam helped me in before he went to get more hot water from the kitchen (he had pots boiling on the stove). Due to the leak, there was only about a foot of water in the pool. I surveyed the situation and, quickly, reworked my birth plan/vision. One contraction in the pool and I told Adam that the baby was coming. He basically said, “yeah, yeah. I’m getting water.” “No Adam. Screw the water. The baby’s head is right here. It’s coming now. You need to get over here.” He brought a pot and said, “Yup, there’s the head.” I truly didn’t think he would be there so I planned to catch the baby. But there he was and he told me to get into a position to give him access. I decided that it would mean more to him to catch our baby than it did to me (which is saying a lot).

    I pushed the head out and figured it would take a couple more contractions to get the rest out, as I did with Biscuit. I was mistaken. It happened just like the birth of my friends’ son (that I had the privilege to witness) and the baby just slid right out into the water and into his father’s loving hands with ease. I stood up and turned as he passed our baby to me. The cord was looped around his neck so we got it unlooped. Adam went to call the midwife to tell her that the baby was here.

    I waited for the infamous first cry. It didn’t come.

    He was breathing. His heart was beating. He was just so still. Once again, God said: trust Me. I tried to work up a panic and go through all the proper motions to get him to make a noise or move or something. I wasn’t panicked though. I just knew he was still. Same as he had always been in utero. Then I panicked about the fact that I wasn’t panicking and shouldn’t I be feeling something bad right now? Adam had his hand on the baby’s heart and it kept on beating. Baby started turning pink.

    Trust: Our Spiritual Home Birth Journey Part 2 - Aimed at the HeartIt felt like an eternity (though it was probably only about 10 minutes) before he finally let out a little yelp. We cheered.

    That was when we heard little footsteps on the floorboards upstairs. C had woken up (who knows how long he lay awake listening to the commotion at the foot of the stairs!) and was on his way down. He said that my noises woke him up. I asked if I scared him and he said, “No, you were just having a baby. Is that our new baby?” It was perfect timing to introduce him to his newest little brother. He said, “Aw, he’s so cute and tiny! I always wanted another little brother.” He’s my sweet and sensitive little man.

    I moved to the couch and snuggled with our littlest one while C watched and took it all in. Adam went downstairs to fix the furnace that had, indeed, had a pile of water leak into it and quit working. It was about -35 Celcius outside (-31 F) so I planned how, after the placenta was birthed, we would bundle up and walk over to my mom’s across the yard.

    Lynn walked in the door almost an hour after the birth. She had gotten caught up in some thick fog on the way. She quickly took in the scene and helped me birth the placenta and get to the bathroom to pee. I already felt amazing. Other than feeling a little worn, I barely noticed my body had just been through a birth. At about 6:30am, Biscuit came downstairs and surveyed the situation. Lynn said to him, “Look, your mom has your new baby!” He looked at me, looked at the baby in my arms, and said, “And I have Jingle,” as he help up his stuffed dog. That little Biscuit is always good for a laugh!

    Trust: Our Spiritual Home Birth Journey Part 2 - Aimed at the HeartBoth my bigger boys came to snuggle with me and the baby and Adam got the furnace going and Lynn made me toast and tea. We went over the placenta and she noted how short the cord was, which could lead to a lack of movement in the womb. We discussed names and couldn’t agree so we put it on the back burner for a while.

    In the meantime, I tried to nurse the baby. He still hadn’t eaten more than a drop or two that I had expressed into his mouth. I feel so blessed that Lynn and I agreed fully on the true journey of natural birth. We both knew he would eat when he was ready. We tried when he was about 3.5 hours old and he cried at the efforts. After being so quiet for so long, it was strange to hear him cry.

    He finally started opening his eyes and rooting around 9am. He latched on and nursed for a full ten minutes. It was incredible! Lynn noted that he was exhibiting all the behaviors of a baby who had just been born. Our conclusion: he was born asleep. Literally. The labor and birth were so peaceful that it didn’t even wake him up.

    First call to the midwife was at 3:35am. The second call to tell her the baby was born was at 4:43am. The labour and birth took just over an hour.

    Trust: Our Spiritual Home Birth Journey Part 2 - Aimed at the Heart

    I’ve since written about being infatuated with my newborn and breastfeeding as a third time mom. I spend most of my days holding a baby who sleeps like neither of my other boys did. I couldn’t imagine a more perfect addition to our family and he is truly God’s gift to us.

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    Linked up at: Growing Home, Babies and BeyondTime-Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions

    T is for Trust: Our Spiritual Home Birth Journey (Part 1)

    T is for Trust: Our Spiritual Home Birth Journey (Part 1)

     

    Trust: A Spiritual Home Birth Journey - Aimed at the HeartIt has taken me a while to write out my latest birth story because I feel like none of the words I choose will do it justice. It wasn’t just a “push the baby out and celebrate” kind of birth. I have been thinking about what to write over the last few months about a truly spiritual home birth and I finally feel like I’m ready to process the journey on paper…

    When I first saw the positive test, I wondered if I should prepare for a miscarriage. I had miscarried before each of my other sons and figured that pattern might continue. I stood in the bathroom, excited and nervous, and God said: Trust Me. I had the reassurance from day one that my pregnancy was in His hands.

    I live in an area with below average care for pregnant women. The local c-section rate is atrocious and the hospital doesn’t even accept VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) patients. (I will be considered a VBAC for the rest of my life, in spite of the fact that my second son was my official VBAC.) There are no midwives for more than 2 hours and, even if I was willing to drive to them for care, they would not accept me because of the distance. I would have had to drive over an hour to see a Dr, who I would likely have to battle with every step of the way to get the low intervention prenatal care and birth that I wanted. So we chose not to have conventional prenatal care. It wasn’t a decision made lightly and we didn’t get any support from loved ones (other than a few close friends) but, once again, God said: Trust Me. And we did.

    Trust: Our Spiritual Home Birth Journey - Aimed at the Heart

    The first trimester brought a lot of fatigue. I dozed on an off nearly all day. My boys spent a lot of time playing outside in the dirt or accompanying their dad or my dad with various farm chores. I felt the baby move, every so slightly, at about 9 weeks (around the same time I felt my first son move). It brought tears to my eyes. I still wasn’t ready to share the news with anyone other than my husband and one close friend.

    The second trimester brought strange bouts of nausea (the first time I woke up at 2am, I thought I had food poisoning) and the start of braxton hicks contractions. I also started to gain weight to the point that it was becoming more difficult to hide the pregnancy (I gain a lot of weight during pregnancy. A lot.) so we told our families at around 12-13 weeks. I still didn’t want to tell anyone but duty called. Everyone was thrilled and nearly all were convinced that, after two boys, this one would be the girl they have all been waiting for.

    There were a number of instances when I would put my hand on my belly just waiting for the baby to move. He didn’t move often. Sometimes he would only kick once or twice all day. The day of my sister-in-law’s wedding was one of those days. The baby didn’t move at all. Not even a niggle. I drank a coffee and an iced cappuccino on the 3.5 hour drive home and, still, no movement. I woke up several times through the night and still, no movement. God kept saying “trust me.” That was probably the hardest day to trust. I decided that if the baby didn’t move the next day that we would pray seriously about going in. He moved at about 8am. Just a couple little kicks to let me know he was still there, he was just tired from the busy days we had.

    The weight and relaxin got tough on my body and started to cause a fair amount of pain. I was so relieved when a friend came to work on the farm with my husband so I no longer had to do the chores that felt like they were pulling my body apart. I essentially put myself on bedrest for the last couple of months. I would get up to do housework in spurts but, mostly, I sat on the couch and read.

    Trust: Our Spiritual Home Birth Journey - Aimed at the Heart

    I was due in the middle of November but I just had a gut feeling that the baby would come early. My other two were born at 40 weeks and 2 days so I told people that this one would probably be the same. But I knew, in my heart, that he wouldn’t be able to wait that long to meet us. Not having to worry about appointments and weight checks and belly measurements meant that I got a lot more connected to my baby during the pregnancy. I bonded so much with this baby in utero. I felt like I truly knew him and he resided in my heart just as completely as he resided in my body.

    Braxton hicks contractions had been my constant companion since about 12 weeks and I could literally feel them start pushing the baby down starting around 36 weeks. Practice contractions. Practice for my body and practice for my mind. I would stop, breath, pray, and love the little baby growing in me. They started become more intense on a Thursday, at about 38.5 weeks. I sat on the ball and swayed. I prayed and sang hymns and listened to the laughter of my boys playing outside and felt closer to God than I had in a very long time. I contracted all night but woke up to calm.

    Friday afternoon brought more contractions. About 5-7 minutes apart and definitely more intense. My body was working. I walked a lot that afternoon and prayed and breathed and, once again, placed the birth in God’s capable hands. I joked with a friend that I would probably have the baby on Monday. I contracted all day Saturday. My sister-in-law, who lives about 5 hours away, was visiting her husband who works nearby (oil rig life!) so she came to visit us and cleaned my house and played with the kids all day. I sat still enjoying the contractions that rushed over me. My body was calm again on Sunday morning. She came over again for a bit and we enjoyed the extra day of visiting (because Monday was a holiday) before she headed back to work.

    Sunday evening brought contractions anywhere from 2-7 minutes apart and I was nearly in tears telling my husband that I just wanted to meet this little one and be done with all this waiting and the emotional roller coaster that goes along with it. But, alas, the contractions stopped. I went to bed early and woke up a few times through the night to help Biscuit fall asleep again. Each time I awoke, I waited for the contractions. Nothing.

    Until about 3:30am, when I woke up to pee. By the time I went downstairs to the bathroom and back up, I had about 3 contractions.

    I knew it was time.

    I’m putting the finishing touches on part two so check back tomorrow to read the rest. In the meantime, read my guest post on the True Journey of Natural Birth.

    UPDATE: Part 2 has been published! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed experiencing it.

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