His Ways Are Not Our Ways, Pt II / Saturdays with Thomas, CH 1

My husband was kind enough to post the last blurb, and he promised you a more detailed account from me, so here I am. Since most of our friends and family live quite the distances, we've decided to try to post updates with pictures every Saturday so that loved ones don't feel completely disconnected with our new little addition. We've decided to call it "Saturdays with Thomas." Much like "Tuesdays with Morrie," but somehow I think Thomas is much better looking than some guy named Morrie.

Ok. So, if you want to know the gorey details (well, I'll not make them SO gorey), keep reading. If not, just enjoy the pictures and catch up with us next week.

He LOVES to sleep like this!
















After a bath....he also LOVES baths.















Hasn't Thomas grown up so fast????















He loves his mama.


































First Sunday at church.







As I said in the post entitled "His Ways Are Not Our Ways," I told of the situation we found ourselves facing a possible c-section, and how the Lord turned our baby head down at the last minute. So, we went home and waited and waited...and waited some more. On August 12th, I experienced about three hours of consistent contractions, about 11 minutes apart. We thought this might be the day, but all too soon, the contractions subsided. At my next appointment, I was dilated to five cm. I thought, "Great! I'm halfway there until I can push."

The next week was absolutely agonizing. Even though we continued to do everything recommended to bring on labor, Thomas was living up to his namesake, and proceeded to "stand like a stonewall." We were thankful not to have had the c-section a few weeks prior, but because I was approaching my 41st week, we knew that at my next appointment an induction would be scheduled. Not an exciting prospect. On the night of the 22nd (the night before my next prenatal appointment, no less!), Nick and I were finishing up devotions. As he was praying, I had the strongest contraction that I had ever had at that point, and I bolted off the couch. I didn't want to get too excited, as we had several false alarms before. But, within the next ten minutes, I had a few more just like them, and after a few more assessments, I called for my upstairs neighbor, Lydia. (Lydia is not only a good friend of ours, but also a nurse-midwife who kindly agreed to act as our doula during the birth.) She checked me out to find that I was now 5 1/2 cm. By the time we got to the hospital and I was in gown and my midwife in scrubs, I had advanced to 7 cm. We were well into labor, and until I was dilated to 8-9 cm, it was not that hard to stay on top of the contractions. But further than that point, I started recalling verses like, "There is no rest for the wicked," and such pleasant biblical warnings. All I wanted was 5 minutes to lay down so I could recoup. But lying down made it hurt worse, so I continued to stand, bent over and clutching onto Nick's hands for dear life. During this time, I heard the delivery room door open, and this plain clothes man walked in. There I was, standing in all my glory (which was not so glorious!), and he says, "I'm sorry...is this a bad time?" Then he came back a few moments later with scrubs on, announcing his title (anasthesiologist) and let me know that his services were available. I remember thinking, "Get out of here, before I change my mind!"

I knew it was getting close to the end, because I had this overpowering urge to push. I asked my midwife if that was okay, and she gave me the go-ahead. At that point, my water bag, which had been ever so faithful to remain intact to act as a buffer for pain, finally erupted. I really saw this as another mercy from the Lord, because as I was reading about natural childbirth, I came to see that the later a woman's water broke, the better. It provides a cushion between the baby and her bones, making labor...er...easier:) The midwife informed me at this point, it was time to push the baby out. At this point in the story, I must clarify that this is the stage of labor that I had been so excited about all through my pregnancy. I had read that this was the "best part" for several reasons: 1) It meant that labor was almost over. 2) It meant the mother would soon see her baby and forget all about the pain. 3) Along with the mother often getting a new burst of energy, it was usually the shortest part, and she normally felt more "in control" because she could determine the strength and pattern of her pushing.

Knowing how much I LOVE being in control, I had been right on board concerning this stage of the game. But now that it was here, I didn't feel so in control anymore. I didn't feel excited, either. I considered the reality of what was about to happen: This baby wasn't going to somehow cosmically squirm its way out- I had to physically push him out. I''ll let you, dear reader, determine all that that means.

Here are some things I found out about pushing: 1) It isn't necessarily short. I swore up and down that I pushed for 1 1/2 hours, but Lydia assures me that it was 45 minutes. 2) I found out EXACTLY why they call it labor. In between pushes, my body would sink into this half-sleep/coma until it was ready to push again. I used to run races, but I don't remember ever being so tired! 3) My mom told me that as the baby came out, there would be alot of burning, then numbness. Well, let's just say I remember the burning very clearly. I don't think numbness ever showed up. But alas, after 5 1/2 hours of this miracle called childbirth, Thomas was finally among us on Tuesday, August 22nd at 1:45 am.

Now, I know I've probably given a somewhat bleak picture of my experience with natural childbirth. However, I want to assure you that I would do it over again. It WAS worth it. No, I didn't immediately forget the pain when our precious son made his entrance into the world, but it was still all the more worth it when I saw him for the first time. He was (and still is) perfect in every way. We are so thankful for him, and for God giving us the opportunity and the strength and courage to get through what we actually asked Him for.