Diddle Diddle Dumpling, My Son John: The Birth Story

so TMI and stuff

Sorry, I’m unavailable. I have BOL (Baby On Lap).

I have a little boy, born as the sun rose to end the longest night of the year. He's the only one of my children to come on his due date, which is a magnificent gift to a mother used to waiting on babies that were so late it wasn't even close to fashionable. 

The greater part of my pregnancy with him was spent very anxiously. I was recovering from the dark night of my soul and the traumatic birth of our daughter that came right in the middle of it– I was not ready to even think about birthing another baby. My whole body was afraid. After my daughter was born I started reading Taking Charge of Your Fertility by Toni Weschler, and learning how to track my cycle... but as I know super well by now, when God wants to send my family a baby, He doesn't care if we're tracking cycles or if we’ve shut down the works with surgery or the pill (whole 'nother story): He gon' send it.

So after days of suspicion, I finally wrapped a positive test up in a gift bag and gave it to my husband. Ben opened it, looked at me, and said "Oh, boy."
Not a sarcastic oh, boy, an uffda oh, boy. 
Well. At least we were on the same page.

The last time around I had taken care of my pregnant-with-daughter self as well as my levels of depression and knowledge allowed... which wasn't all that well. I knew that I hadn't liked the prenatals I'd taken during my first pregnancy, so I rebelled and took... Flintsone's vitamins. Not even kidding.
Anyway, THIS time I was like "NO. I will have QUALITY." and so it was really good prenatals, fermented cod liver oil, and raw milk all the way. Still not kidding.

I'm glad I made those choices to support my physical health, but my emotional health lagged until about six or seven months in. I was so afraid. I was so not ready. I talked to a friend and explained how I felt, and she recommended a book: Supernatural Childbirth by Jackie Mize. It was wild, and it brought me hope that this birth wasn't guaranteed to be the same as my previous one– that it could, in fact, be completely different. Around that same time I also found a fantastic website called Birth Without Fear* that had what seemed like hundreds of birth stories from women in all kinds of situations. I read those stories every day, and it made me feel like I wasn't alone, and like everything was going to be okay. 

Now that peace was seeping back in, I was able to actually look forward to this birth, and with two vastly different birth experiences under my belt (ha!) I was able to think about what I wanted and needed.
I prefer to birth my babies at home: Benjamin's birth had been a weekend long party in my parents' house (where we were living) with a bunch of my favorite people, in the hottest part of the year; and of course Abby's had been a screaming freight train of terror and isolation in the middle of winter in our first very own home. I needed this next one to be somewhere in between. So we got our needs and wants sorted, got our people lined up, and got ready.

 At 37 weeks I had some spotting, and went in for an ultrasound to see if anything was amiss. Thankfully nothing dangerous was happening– but what to our wondering eyes did appear but a nice, fat, as-yet-gender-unknown baby... breech. Oops! I called my chiropractor, and she spent an hour and a half with me, working to flip that baby, and I am so grateful to say her efforts were not in vain. Did you know she's the best? She also saved my life with muffins a few times. Now that's service.

The days went by and I couldn't take any more. I thought my belly had been stretched as far as it could go with the last two babies... apparently I was wrong. I hurt so much. I could not imagine enduring this for days or weeks past my due date, UGH. But miracle of miracles, my mom came down the day before baby was due, and that night labor started. My dear midwife came in plenty of time, and things were going along swimmingly. After a productive labor there came a hiccup, and I pushed for two hours before we found a cervical lip. Worst thing ever. It probably would have helped a great deal if baby's head wasn't asynclitic (tilted a bit to one side). In spite of all, a fat baby boy suddenly made his appearance, and:

Heeeeeere's Johnny, all 9 pounds and 6 ounces of him!

He was the first baby to have my heart right away. Knowing how to connect to and love my babies wasn't something that came naturally to me, but I had been learning, and thankfully my fear in pregnancy didn't hinder my connection with John. 

I'm especially grateful for his babyhood, because as Johnny grew things would get very difficult, as anyone who has experienced him in real life can probably attest. He is a kind, thoughtful, insightful, protective boy, but the way he experiences and processes the world has left me in tears of helpless frustration and grief regularly. Eight years later we finally have some answers, and I'll share more about that as we continue down that road.**

I love you, baby John. 

I love you, little John-John. I love you, big boy Johnny. The struggle has been so real, but your future is so bright. There is a place just for you in this world, and it's good.

My first three imps, looking very impish indeed.

*you can find Birth Without Fear on Instagram, though the account seems to be inactive these days.

**read all about the rest of our journey with Johnny here: 

Why Can't It Always Be Fun?

Diddle Diddle Dumpling, My Son John: Developing 

Diddle Diddle Dumpling, My Son John: A (not) Brief History

Diddle Diddle Dumpling, My Son John: The Dream

Diddle Diddle Dumpling, My Son John: Light at the End of the Tunnel

Diddle Diddle Dumpling, My Son John: How to Heal a Brain