I have had each one of my babies a bit early. And the more I have, the earlier they get. So I really didn't think I'd make it until Christmas. And then when I did, I decided a few days between his birthday and Christmas would be nice. But then a few days passed. And then a few more. And the mental stress of having a birth hanging over me was weighing me down a considerable amount. Elise's unpleasant birth experience was fresh in my mind and settling into my brain, seemingly depositing bricks of anxiety and dread into every corner.
On New Years Eve we went to Jeff's house. Not long after we'd been there I started having regular contractions. When I realized they were two minutes apart we packed up the kids and headed home. Braden got the kids in bed, I took a shower, packed, and had Genna come braid my hair. I recall literally pulling out my hair with Elise and hoped that if I had it braided I might refrain. I really wanted him to be born on New Years Eve because I thought that would be such a fun birthday. Once we got to that point I waited for the contractions to pick up in intensity. They didn't. I decided before we called anyone over to stay with the kids that I should lay down and see if they went away. Much to my dismay, I woke up a few hours later to the sound of fireworks. I missed the fun birth day. And I wasn't in active labor. The next day we went about our tasks. As the day wore on I became filled with discouragement. I'm not sure why. I think I got mentally excited to finally get it over with and put the birth behind me. Now, with contractions never stopping but also never intensifying, it was continuing to loom over my head. By night time I felt uncharacteristically depressed. Braden asked me if I was okay and told him that I really wasn't. I went to lay down to see if I could sleep. As soon as I laid down and got comfortable, my contractions switched gears and I recognized that unmistakable change. I called Braden (Who was in the kitchen. Because you are allowed to do insanely lazy things when you are pregnant and especially when you are working on not being pregnant any longer. For the record, those are the only times I am that lazy.) He seemed excited. He worked on the kids and I went to the bath. I do not know how long I was in there- it was a considerable amount of time. With this harrowing experience just beginning, and feeling physically and emotionally drained, I felt a deep need to connect with my Father in Heaven. I knelt down in the bath and started praying. I recall wanting to feel a very real part in his journey through the veil. I wanted to be aware of my acting as a vessel to bring him here. I prayed that the veil would be thin and that I would have Heavenly help throughout the birthing process. I remember understanding better Enos's prayer that lasted through the night. I lost track of time but I felt like I was truly communing with God and that I too could have done so throughout the night. I don't remember all the words I said. I just know that when you feel that level of dependence of Him, recognizing fully your weakness and His strength, those prayers go into a different category. Those are the prayers where the words are forgotten , but the experience changes you forever. Where your heart melds into His a little more. Where doubt and worry become trust and peace. When a bathtub becomes sacred ground due to the nature of the soul pouring. That time was absolutely trans formative. I left the bath feeling confident. And calm. And ready.
Ryan and Janay Call came over to stay at the house. It was around 9 pm. We sat and chatted with them for a few minutes. Ryan was joking that he was hoping to see me howling in pain, but I was making a concentrated effort to maintain the peace I had been given. We drove to the hospital in Braden's car which he had warmed up for me and he had my birth CD playing (the same one I listened to on the way to the hospital with Maisey's birth). We held hands, we didn't talk much. We didn't need to. I reflected briefly on how our lives had changed since the first dark hospital drive we made together. We arrived just before my friend Hannah, who had offered to take pictures of the birth.
Hospital staff insisted that I sit in a wheelchair, which is the first time I have ever not walked into Labor and Delivery. I didn't like that. But they made up for it by making me walk laps around the floor for an hour to make sure I was really in labor. I really didn't like that. Especially after they made me wait in triage with a loud TV and other women also waiting to see if they would be kept. Although I was at a four, they wanted to see if my cervix would change in an hour. I walked the halls mostly alone, listening to my play list on YouTube entitled "feeling good inside". There are only about 7 hymns on the list, all about the Savior. Braden would join me for a lap here or there. He spent the rest of the time talking to Hannah who was sitting in the waiting area. The contractions grew in intensity and they were regular- they would get bad every time I rounded a particular corner- the one with all the nurses sitting at the desk watching me as I waddled past. As irritated as I was that they made me walk, it was a useful and productive time. I continued to focus on my mental state, maintain my calm, and channel peace amidst ever increasing pressure. By eleven when they checked me I was a five. I requested to go to the natural birthing room- the one with the tub. They told me it was available but they didn't really know how to use the tub and the equipment that went with it due to the fact that about 1% of their patients use it. Because of the VBAC, I always have to have nonstop fetal monitoring which is so intrusive on natural labor. They set me up in the tub, with the monitors and told me I could have 40 minutes in there. I was a bit disheartened by the fact that there were no jets, but I sat under the faucet and continued to let the contractions come in a peaceful way. My intent was to let them work through me while remaining composed and focused. I asked Braden to find my favorite version of my favorite song- "Come Thou Fount" by the BYU choir. I found solace in the lyrics that have come to be my personal testimony and sincerest prayer. While in the tub, I remember having the thought that I needed to pee. But in order for me to get out of the tub, they would have to drain the water. Which they just spent 20 minutes filling up. And since I didn't have very long in there, I decided I would just wait until I got out. When my tub time was complete the doctor came in to check me. She said I was a six and wanted to know if I was okay with her breaking my water. I've done this enough times to know exactly what that means: An insanely intense 15 or 20 minutes until I would be complete. It seemed better to just forge ahead rather than let the inevitable drag on. I gave her the go ahead, forgetting in my weighty decision making that I needed to pee.
The Dr. had trouble breaking my water. In fact, Emmett still has scratches on the top of his head from her using a little hook repeatedly. Finally she was able to get some of it to break and things kicked up a notch. I started lunging back and forth- huge lunges- feet leaving the ground lunges. This wasn't very compatible with the fetal heart monitor. But it really helped me. So the dear sweet nurse sat on the ground under me and held it on my stomach while I lunged back and forth. the contractions started getting harder with little to no break in between.This is always when Braden steps in and isn't allowed to quit until I can. He rubbed my back and legs through each contraction. They harder they got, the harder I would ask him to rub. I was sore and bruised for a week after where he rubbed me. But I absolutely had to have it. We kept on like this and I kept looking at the clock thinking surely I was there. What could be taking so long this time? Throughout the whole process I kept my earphones in, drowning out medical conversation or small talk. It helped me maintain me deep state of concentrated focus. Not just for pain management, but for the spiritual experience I was seeking, and having. I was sincerely in another world- I detached myself as far as I could from the hospital environment around me and thought of what it was I was actually doing- giving a body to a spirit. Bringing somebody from the presence of Father to earth- it is powerful beyond words to facilitate that. Every time the climax of my song came I was filled with power and strength and was smiling in the middle of hard long contractions. I was tired by this point. It was around 1:30 in the morning and I remember saying out loud that I ready to hold my baby. I suddenly had the overwhelming urge to hold him and I wanted him desperately. The nurses and Dr checked me a few times and kept telling me I was almost complete. Then my body did the thing where it started pushing all on its own. The Dr was very nervous because I had not yet fully dilated. She said she could see his head but because my bladder was full it wasn't allowing me to be complete. She was concerned that he was about to come ripping through my cervix and at that point there wasn't anything she could do. I took out my headphones and looked at Braden's face- I could tell that he was scared. She had me go to the bathroom to try to pee but I couldn't. She was nervous I would have the baby in the bathroom because my body kept pushing involuntarily. She told me to come back and she worked in a catheter. As soon as she drained my bladder I was at a 10 and they told me to push. I pushed a handful of times- long, hard pushes, and out he came.
Born at 2:22am, six pounds and seven ounces.
I asked for him to come right to me. They tried but oddly the umbilical cord was so short I could only reach his hands. So I just held his hands for a minute. Then Braden cut the cord (for his first time) and I held him on my chest. I didn't even really look at his face. I just held him close and smelled him and kissed him. Holding my babies in these moments are some of my most precious times of my whole life. It is charged with so much emotion all at once- relief, love, pain, exhaustion, elation, joy, gratitude.
He was absolutely perfect and beautiful. When I looked at him and laid him on my chest I thought to myself, "This is Emmett". We hadn't decided on a name yet but when I saw him I knew immediately. It was instantly different to have a son rather than a daughter. And I can't explain why. But his sweet and gentle demeanor captured my heart at first sight and it is ever growing by the day.
Braden went home the next day and Emmett and i spent the day together in the hospital. At one point the nurse told me I needed to feed him. I picked him up to do so but was nuzzling him first. I looked at the clock and realized that I just spent 30 minutes smelling his neck. But I felt entitled to sit and do nothing else but breathe him in. I needed to do that. I sat and thought of all the miserable days I had over the course of his pregnancy. More than I could count. Long awful absolutely miserable days one after another, after another. And here was this pure perfect little soul in my lap because of it. It was beautiful.
Emmett and the nature of his birth were an answer to prayers. He joined our family because I had the distinct impression that he was waiting. And I'm so thankful he did. The night he was born will always feel sacred to me.
