Saturday, March 29, 2014

and you see her and you weep. and so do we julia | vbac

It was the windiest of all early mornings. The sky pitch black and the turbulent winds rushing around my car as I fled down the highway with Siri in hand.

"Turn left, here," she said.

"It's not a turn! THAT WAS THE EXIT I JUST PASSED!" I yelled back.

"Turn around and head North on 67," she insisted.

I snarled back at her, "ya. ya. ya. Meanwhile, I'm gonna miss it, Siri."

I took the next left and with a zoom and a swish I parked the car and ran to the window, "Labor & delivery?!" It had been a year since I was here last.

"Fourth floor, buzz the door!" he said.

Whoosh. Upstairs. Compose yourself. Breathe. Beeeeeep. "Come on in" Click, the doors unlock.

There she is. Moaning through these wheelchair bound contractions, holding her blanket over her legs, husband by her side, doula at her back, nurses gathered 'round.

She is beautiful. A hard-working, patient warrior.

We wheeled down the hall to the birthing sweet with the tub.

Drip, drip, splash.  Water begins to pour and you can see relief and joy in her eyes. The tub is full and she gets in and hunkers down.

Work, mama. Work laying back, rest your head against the tub. Work leaning forward as your friend behind you eases the pain down your spine with her loving hands. Work into your husband's grip. He holds you up as you roar and clench his shirt tight within your fists. Work as the sweat drips down your back. Work as the monitors beep and squawk and the nurses watch and pass the flashlights and scrounge around for mirrors and find gloves. Work as your doula searches for music to calm nerves and strengthen your soul.

Silent night, holy night. All is calm. All is bright.

Work as the lights are dimmed and the oil is diffused and the smoke rises and baby comes down. Work as you cry out to God. Work as He answers.

It is so much work, this thing you do, mama. And it is intrinsic and it is exertion and finally, it is all accomplished.

Baby is here and you're not sure how, but it all happened just like you knew it could, and believed it should, and prayed it would.

And you see her and you weep. And so do we all.

Congratulations, Mama. You did it.

Monday, March 3, 2014

all wrapped up in love and waiting to behold the World...Baby Kinley | Birth

I got the call in the wee earliest hours of the morning. "We're heading to the birth center" and so I listened.


Another call 15 min later, "whenever you know how far along she is, let me know! I'll be on my way" I said, excitedly.

I got a text about 20 minutes later. "we're here. She is a 9cm."

What!?! How did that happen, she was so quiet. So peaceful. So calm on the other end of the line.

I threw on my clothes, grabbed my bag and was out the door, headed for Downtown, Fort Worth.

Sitting at the light on Rosedale and Misteltoe, I got the text, "baby's here!"

"NOOOOO!!!" I yelled, my fist hitting the steering wheel in protest.

Red...Green. Go.

I pulled in front of the center less than a minute later, ran in and to the right, up the stairs.

There I found Mama and Baby Kinley, snuggling in the bathtub. Baby breathing in the cool air and crying out for all of those waiting to hear that she had arrived.

Mama had labored peacefully through the night in bed and came to the center with daddy to meet their baby in the water.
She was precious and new and sweet, all wrapped up in love and waiting to behold the World...

So glad to have seen your story's first beginnings, baby Kinley.
:) Tori