Our Laidey of Constant Laughter
A birth story.
My youngest child hits the halfway point of her childhood this week. This is mind-boggling.
God’s faithfulness to my family through the generations has been enormous; I’m always asking him to open my eyes wider so I can see it more clearly, and he does. The story I’m sharing today is not just a birth story – it’s really a giving-up story. How do God’s faithfulness and my giving up fit together? Read on, unless…
Disclaimer – if you don’t enjoy reading the words “tilted uterus” repeatedly, you may want to leave now.
My fourth baby was due October 15. Our family had moved in March of that year to the town we’re in currently to serve the local church. On hearing that I really like to birth my babies at home, one of our parishioners put me in contact with a midwife who was close by, and very kind. My pregnancy went well, and we got settled into our new home.
Fall drew nearer, and wouldn’t it be fun, I thought, for my baby to share a birthday with my mom on September 29th? It seemed nuts – none of my babies had ever arrived early – but this baby must have liked my idea, because I went into labor the night of the 28th. I even called Ben home from an out-of-town conference because our new tiny person’s arrival seemed imminent; but by midday on the 29th, labor fizzled out.
Ok, fine, I thought. It would also be cool if baby’s birthday was on my parents’ anniversary, October 10th. Baby seemed to also like this idea, and bam, when the 10th came I was in labor... but again, no baby was forthcoming. In fact, what followed for the next two weeks was prodromal labor, which would happen every other night from midnight to 5am.
It was so awful.
In one of the earlier nights of labor, before I caught on to the pattern, I asked my midwife to check my dilation. This was surprisingly difficult, because my cervix was pointed back toward my tailbone. Not only did she have to reach practically to China to find it, she had to manually move it (and my whole womb) back to its appropriate place.
*heebie jeebies*
Feeling my uterus rotate was one of the weirder things I’ve experienced... and I’ve experienced some weird stuff.
Nights pass. Labor is unproductive. I am exhausted and so discouraged, but at least I’m getting a night of actual sleep in between my labor nights. My dear midwife, pregnant herself, actually slept over at our house probably every night for a week straight. Our community was so kind in watching my kids, bringing food over, and giving me encouraging words. Instead of telling me to have a good day, my husband, when leaving for work in the morning, would tell me “Have a baby.” Thanks, Dear. You too.
Finally, on a Wednesday morning while I was at school with my kids, my water broke. Yay! Something was happening! I called my mom and my family planned to come down that day to help.
I then proceeded to have three laboring nights in a row – with still no baby to show for it – and I was OVER. IT.
On Saturday morning, October 24th now, 3am, I went into the bathroom, telling my people that I was not coming out until this baby had been born. Joke was on me – labor stopped at 5 like it always did, and I was so, so tired, and angry. I wanted to scream. Why did labor keep quitting on me, in spite of my being well dilated, effaced, my water broken, and all my efforts??
Then, the lightbulb went on.
I remembered my midwife barely being able to reach my cervix. If my uterus had tilted again, with my cervix pointing at my back, no baby would be able to get out. It’s like with every stint of labor, my body was checking to see if that tilt had been resolved yet, and when it found that it hadn’t, labor would stop.
Welp. That was it. I had come to the end of me.
I went back to my room and told my family and my midwife my suspicions, and asked them to lay hands on me and pray that my uterus would get back in line. I also told them that they’d have to do all the believing because I just could not. My faith and I were completely exhausted and I was tagging out.
So they prayed.
My family had been planning to return home (a state away) that day, but changed their minds. Sweet relief.
I spent the day resting, and feeling the amazingly bizarre sensation of my uterus repositioning itself at regular intervals.
By dinner time I felt contractions.
By 9pm I was in the kitchen with Ben, leaning against the fridge and crying because I was SO DONE and I couldn’t take another minute, let alone whole night, of unproductive labor. (Hello, transition.)
At 12:30am, she was here.
Glory to God. He can be trusted, and we’re safe to give up.
Our sweet baby Laidey
born October 25th; 9lbs, 21in long;
with one intervention: Divine.
If this is the weirdest birth story you’ve ever heard, and you repeatedly wondered “WHY didn’t that woman go to the hospital and just get it over with? Water broken for three days? She could have been in danger!”, valid questions.
I had people I trusted around me (including a doctor), good resources (especially this article), peace with my decisions (considering the circumstances), and a strong rebellious streak (this has remained).
And now I have a story to tell.
Yikes! What a terrifying experience that must have been. I'm so glad you both pulled through okay. But I'm sure the trauma still lives on in your body, mind, and soul. So, too, it sounds like the subsequent feelings of faith and gratitude have remained etched into who you are, which is a beautiful thing. I've heard some wild stories about childbirth. I can only imagine what it must be like to experience something like that.