Last Thursday night, I was FB messaged by a friend of a friend who asked me to if I could come to her birth of her baby on Monday. She was going to be induced. Since she came here to the country about two years ago, I didn’t know if she would have any other support. I said I would have to shuffle my schedule but I could be there at 1pm and stay until baby was born.
Friday morning I get the message, “My water broke at 3 am. I am at the hospital, can you come now?”
Yikes! I was in the middle of homeschooling and it was supposed to be a “stay at home and get things done kind of day!” But God had different plans than I did on Friday. Grace and Lydia were rockstars and helped the other kids with their homework and held down the fort.
All day Friday, I walked the halls of the St. Cloud hospital, rubbed her back and waited and waited. Nothing was happening. We were having dinner guests for supper and I was wondering if I was going to make it. Still no progress, so I hustled home for 90 minutes at 5:30 pm. The baby’s dad did show up, but had slept most of the day because he worked the night shift.
Grace again rose to the occasion and made homemade pizza for our guests along with watermelon frosted sugar cookies. As we were chatting with our guests, it turned out that she was from the same country as my friend in labor. Small world!
Back at the hospital, still no progress in labor. At 10:30 pm, I was floppy itchy tired – that place where you want to crawl out of your skin tired. I looked at the nurse and I didn’t even have to say anything and she said, “Go home and get a few hours of sleep this is going to be a long night. I will call you when she has progressed.”
I slept for 3.5 hour and got the call at 3:00 am that she was dilated to an 8. I jumped out of bed and was in her room within 20 minutes. I spend most of that time parking and walking all the way around through the ER to get to third floor.
The next 30 minutes went super fast with coaching and helping her breath. Her epidural stopped working and the poor dear was so exhausted. Right at 3:58 am the nurse told her that she could try pushing. The nurse walked away from the bed, I think, back to her computer. I look down and all I could say was, “Crowning….head….aaaaaaaand baby!” My hand was right there. I didn’t touch the baby because I had a moments hesitation on what I could do. The bed wasn’t even taken a part for delivery. I felt terrible that I didn’t apply positive pressure on the head to keep her from ripping, but this was her third baby and her body knew what to do.
Meanwhile, the nurse comes running back over and starts barking out orders for me to push buttons and grab blankets etc. Whew…my body was on an adrenaline rush. Nurses come running in and took over.
My new role as photographer started because she asked for pictures too! I spent the next hour catching all the firsts. I love new babies with their mommas.
“For I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”
For my first birth, other than my own, it was quite the adventure. I might start a career as photographer, doula and baby catcher.
Some days are hard.
We didn’t get everyone in the pictures, but it was a wonderful Sunday. 10 nations represented. Super talk with a Muslim friend about religious freedom and what it means to be counted righteous in Jesus. At one point, it was so loud with conversations that I stood back in awe. All different people and cultures coming together to share life.
Carl and I had the opportunity to be on a panel for religious freedom with the Heritage Foundation in Washington D.C.
The kids went to Catipillar/Farm Camp with the Voelkers. I got this text from Krista. I laughed all day thinking about it.
Notice max plugging his nose.
Coming out of the pig pen
Max: I barfed a little in my mouth.