grace for the moment.: Clara Felicity

September 7, 2013.

Pretty normal saturday morning. I woke up around 9am that morning after not sleeping well. I was tossing and turning for most of the night, due to quite a bit of lower back pain and indigestion. I didn’t think much of it... after all, I was 39 weeks pregnant. I was used to my body hurting. I remember sitting down on the couch with a bowl of cereal when I started to notice some contractions. I had been having braxton hicks contractions for a few weeks at this point, so I figured thats what I was feeling. These, however, seemed pretty consistent. Just for fun, I started to time them as I sat there. 5 minutes apart, lasting only about 30 seconds. Totally not painful. So, I just kept eating breakfast. Around this time, Evan walks into the living room and sits next to me. We sit in silence for a little while... me continuing to feel non-painful contractions every 5 minutes. I recall we were a little irritated at each other that morning. Of course, I don’t remember what it was about. Finally, I turn to him and rather non-chalantly say: “Babe, I think I might be in labor.” His response... “Well, I feel like a jerk.” Suddenly we weren’t fighting anymore.

We continued to sit and eat breakfast while I explained to him some of the symptoms I was feeling. Lower back pain, indigestion, and consistent non-painful contractions. “Its probably nothing...” I said. “If anything, it will take a super long time to progress into anything.” At this point, I think Evan was starting to freak out just a little. “Should we go to the hospital??” Nah....

We had planned that morning to head up to Arvada (a city about 45 minutes away... and the opposite direction of the hospital) for a end of summer festival they had going on. Somehow, I convinced Evan that we should still move forward with our plans. After all, my labor would surely progress slowly. Besides, walking around in 90 degree weather would probably help things move along a bit. Before leaving, though, we DID finish packing the hospital bag and quickly installed the carseat (super prepared, here).

So, away we went. We did call our doula, Melissa, on our way... just to let her know that labor might be coming soon... but probably not. Seriously, I was not convinced I was in labor. It just didn’t feel like labor. I always pictured some big dramatic-middle-of-the-night, frantic run-around kind of moment. This was definitely not it.

We spent the whole morning in Arvada, checking in with our doula every couple of hours. The update was always the same. Still 5 minutes apart, still lasting about 30 seconds, still not painful. Finally, around one o’clock, I started to not feel very good. We figured it would be best if we headed home. We could rent a movie, eat some food, and keep timing contractions. On the drive back, my contractions started hurting just a tad more. But, not big deal. After all, I probably wasn’t in labor.

We got settled into our couch around 2 o’clock. We browsed netflix as I attempted to eat some cheese and crackers... not super successful, as I had started to feel a little nauseous at this point. We were about to start a movie when Evan got a call from one of the students in our youth group. “Can I get a ride to the library?” Evan told him no, we were busy, but I persuaded him to go. He would only be gone for 10 minutes, and I could time contractions on my own. Reluctantly, Evan headed out the door.

Almost immediately after he left, I was hit with a contraction that literally knocked me onto the floor. Then 3 minutes later, another. Then 3 minutes later, another. OUCH. I think by this point I was starting to be convinced that I was in labor. Evan still gone, I made a phone call into the hospital to let them know we were probably going to come in. My OB was on the other line. “They hurt, huh?” I could barely squeak out a yes. After hanging up the phone, Evan walks in the door to find me, head down on all fours, on the living room floor. “Thats it! We’re going to the hospital!” He didn’t need to tell me twice.

Thankfully, our hospital bag was already in the car, so he grabbed my purse and helped me to my feet and towards the door. We were in the doorway when my water broke. Better grab a towel for the car. We called our doula on the way to the hospital, who was shocked to hear how quickly I had progressed. After all, just an hour earlier my contractions were still not painful at all. She agreed to meet us at the hospital. We continued to time contractions during the 25-minute drive there. 3 minutes apart, 2 1/2 minutes apart, 2 minutes apart. And PAINFUL. Each one more than the last. By the time we got to the emergency entrance, I could barely waddle a few feet before needing to stop and hunch over a bar along the wall. Evan parked the car while a nice nurse checked me into triage. I was already 5cm dilated. Evan and our doula got to the room right as they were taking me up to Labor and Delivery. It was about 3pm. Contractions continued to progress with more and more intensity as I laid doubled over in the bed. Since I was determined to have this baby naturally, I declined the epidural. I was still feeling pretty confident I could go without.

But my confidence started to waver pretty quickly. Labor progressed so fast that it wasn’t long and I was having only about 30 seconds of rest in between contractions that lasted for over a minute. An hour after checking into the hospital, my contractions had progressed to about 10 seconds in between.

Honestly, this whole part is pretty fuzzy to me. I remember a lot of pain, and thats about it. I remember feeling really dizzy and nauseous at the peak of each contraction. I remember the pain being so intense that I started to shake. I remember forgetting to breathe like I had practiced, and instead screaming at the top of my lungs. I remember my doula trying to recommend other positions, and barely being able to get there because I didn’t have enough rest in between contractions. I remember Evan trying some counter pressure on my back and me screaming at him, “GET OFF ME!” I remember hitting a point where I decided I would much rather be dead. I wanted the epidural, or a gun. Whichever one was available the fastest.

Suddenly, I felt this incredible need to push. I told Evan that, and our doula ran to get a nurse. We had only been at the hospital for about an hour and a half, so everyone seemed pretty shocked that I was wanting to push already. To their surprise, I was 10cm dilated and ready to push. This was probably the worst part. The part where you can literally feel the baby on the way out and the nurse tells you not to push. How am I supposed to not push?? My body is pushing, with or without me! Thankfully, it only took about 2 contractions for them to get the bed all set up and my OB into the room (But it felt like 20).

Suddenly I was pushing. This was the dramatic scene you see in the movies (how come they never show all the labor leading up to it? The pushing is the easy part!). I had started to hyper-ventilate a bit at this point, so they put me on oxygen as my doctor explained to me how to push. Who knew there were instructions? Its not the same as pooping.

Suddenly I hear, “Grace, the baby’s heart rate is dropping. She’s still ok, but we need to get her out now.” I was overcome by a fierce, motherly determination and I began to push with far more might than I realized I had in me. It only took about 10 more minutes and she began to crown. Suddenly, my sweet baby’s head emerged. The umbilical chord was wrapped pretty tightly around her neck, but those nurses were so quick. The chord was clamped and cut before she was even all the way out. One more push and I was no longer pregnant. “Its a girl!” Its amazing, suddenly, all the pain was gone. It was 5:05pm. Only two short hours after arriving at the hospital.

She didn’t cry right away. Due to a really fast labor and not a lot of oxygen, her tiny little body was in a bit of shock. Instead of being able to hold her right away, the nurses took her under the warming lamp and began to suction her mouth and nose and get her to make some noise. Evan ran to her side, while I lay in the bed, staring at my daughter from afar. I didn’t really know how to process what was going on, but I was a little scared.

Suddenly, a cry. A beautiful, soft, but strong cry. And just a minute later, a tiny little life placed into my arms. I just stared. She was mine. She was healthy and beautiful and perfect and she was mine. 7lb, 5oz, 20 in long. A head FULL of hair.

The next hour was filled with doctors and stitches and cleaning and all kinds of other stuff that i don’t remember.

Our lives have never been the same since that day. I would need a whole other blog to begin to touch on the many things I have learned in the past 7 weeks. Things about myself, things about God, things about patience and perseverance and joy.

Clara Felicity means “bright joy.” We named her this, not only because we love the name, but also because this is our prayer for her life. That she would know deeply rooted, true joy. Not an emotion-filled happy feeling, but deep joy. Joy that can only be found in the hope of the gospel, and the unwavering grace and love of our Father. Clara Felicity, you are such a gift.