Welcome to our world, sweet William.

   Birth stories are always a little bit hard for me to write about....there is something so real and raw and brutal and beautiful about them.  It is the intersection of agony and joy, pain and relief, sorrow and celebration.   There is never a moment in your life more intense, vulnerable, and transforming as the moment when your child is born from your body, and I can't believe I have been blessed enough to experience it three times.

   And so I find it hard to write about my births, because it is difficult to assign mere words to something so profoundly....sacred.  But I also really enjoy capturing them on paper, because memories fade, and I want to remember as much of these moments as I can for the rest of my life.

The other reason it is hard for me to write about my birth stories is because I feel like in our culture today they have become so defining for some reason.  A long time ago, women just gave birth.  In different ways, in different settings, but we just gave birth.

   Today, you fall into all sorts of different categories according to how/where/in what way you give birth.  Natural birth, C-section, home birth, hospital birth...labels are handed out and placed on women when really, we all still just give birth.  No matter how or in what manner or way a new life comes to this earth, the fact still remains....a child is born.  And that is powerful and miraculous and special and deserves to be celebrated!

And so no matter what your story is, it is worth telling.

   I always hope for a natural, intervention-free birth, but I don't write a "birth plan" because I know that births can't really be "planned" as there are many things that are out of our control.  I was induced with Charlotte and although it wasn't my preference, I was OK with that, because it needed to happen for her safety.

   And this time around, it was looking like it would be the same story, with each day drawing me closer to the 42 week mark.  I had been feeling contractions on and off for a week and a half, but they never amounted to anything.  Being overdue wasn't even the hardest part....knowing that each day just took me closer to an induction WAS.

   After they got home from Bible school we planned to leave right away to take the girls to Grandma's for the night, so we would be able to leave straight for the hospital early the next morning for the induction.

AND THIS IS THE COOL PART.

   My sister's family came over around 10:00 pm to have a special time of prayer for us.  They prayed for a safe delivery and prayed specifically that I would be able to go into labor on my own, and avoid being induced.  I have to admit I was so touched by their thoughtfulness, but still felt doubtful. I mean, I only had what, like, 10 hours until the induction was scheduled.  What could possibly happen before then?


    The whole thing only lasted 2.5 hours.  All that time of being overdue and waiting, waiting, waiting was slowly but surely preparing my body for his arrival.  And he certainly entered the world on his own terms!  In a hurry and everything, all 8lbs, 11oz and 21 inches of him.

He was perfect.

 I couldn't stop sobbing once he was in my arms.  The pain, the toil, the agony was over, and only joy remained.  I wanted that moment to last forever.  No drug in the world holds a candle to that high!  It is the most euphoric feeling I have ever experienced.  Why can't we have 300 babies again?!?!

   I have longed for a son.  And he was here!  Really, truly, finally here.  With eyes like his daddy and hair like his mama, and a velvety head both softer and sweeter than dozens of roses.  I held him close and we stayed attached, cord and all, for as long as we could.







   Even weirder still is being able to remember when my parents were in this exact stage of life.  When my mom was 30, she had Shannon, me, and baby Shawn.  I will turn 30 in August and like mom, I have two little girls, and a baby boy.  My girls are younger at 4 and 3, while hers were 6 and 4 but it is still so strange to think of being exactly where my parents were at all those years ago.  My mom went on to have babies all throughout her 30s and into her 40s (her youngest was born at 43!) and I can hardly imagine what that must have been like.  But growing up I never felt like we were a burden to her, or something she just "endured".  She loved her children and raising her family and she did a great job.

 I only hope to do the same.



Sweet William we are so very, very glad you are here.  

   What a miracle you are.  I expected to be a little less in awe this time around, it being our 3rd child.  But it has been the opposite.  I feel more in awe and wonder at this whole indescribable gift of new life than ever before.  You were knit together in my womb by the Master's hand, and you are here now.  A brand-new person.  An arrow and a light to be raised up and sent forth into the darkness, and my heart bursts to think of the plans God has for you.  

You were a million times over, worth the wait.