I listened to the pounding on the metal roof of my car.
Everything outside was drenched with the early morning rain.
And as it fell I was soaking my swollen abdomen with tears.
Tears of anxiousness. Tears of joy. Tears in fear of what the next few weeks would bring.
Would my little girl arrive safely? Would I be strong enough to labor at home, naturally, like I planned? Would my family arrive in time to witness the miracle of birth? Would I be a good Mama to this precious gift?
When the thumping of the droplets seemed to lessen, I ran, well, waddled, for the back door of our large green two story.
I dried my face and tried to tuck the fears and anxiousness away, after all, she wasn’t due for almost two weeks. I prepared the ingredients and placed dinner in the crockpot.
Before continuing with other housework, I sat down on the couch to quickly check my email.
Then it came. First a trickle.
Standing up, it flooded the hardwood beneath me.
Water.
My water had broken.
My baby girl was ready.
I shook with excited and fumbled for my cell phone.
“Babe…I think my water broke.”
“I’ll be right there.” Thankfully our church is only two blocks away.
I called my Mama and quickly typed a text message to my sister and close friends.
He came in the back door. His wet shoes squeaking across the kitchen floor, he found me standing in the same position I had called him from a few minutes earlier.
We looked at each other, knowing our lives were about to change forever.
The midwife came. 2 centimeters and she could feel sweet Londyn’s head.
I showered through increasing contractions, and Daniel prepared our room.
The midwife returned. 4 centimeters. Active labor was in progress. This baby was in a hurry.
I didn’t want him to leave my side. He reminded me to breathe like we had practiced in our classes. He massaged my back as the pain intensified.
Moving from the bathroom to our bed and back again. I fought for the strength to do this. The pressure of our daughter’s head was painful and the pain brought my breakfast back up again.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I groaned while Daniel changed the sheets he had just put on the bed not even an hour before.
“Yes, you can. You’re doing great, Love,” he encouraged.
I questioned how far away my parents and sister were.
They were stuck in traffic, but only twenty minutes away.
I stretched across the bed resting on the comfort on my own pillow between contractions.
My Mama and sister entered our room and I felt a wave of relief. They made it.
I asked to see my Daddy. He peeked his head into the room, “Hey, punkin.”
Our conversation was cut short by another contraction. The pressure and my desire to push was incredible.
Daniel kept telling me not to push yet. The midwife echoed his words.
My Mama rubbed my back. She offered her hand, but I didn’t take it. I wanted my hands free.
The midwife checked again. 8 centimeters. After only 3 hours of active labor.
He helped me off the bed and supported my weight as my legs felt weak and heavy. Back in the bathroom, I continued.
“You can push, now.” I received the permission my body was aching for.
I pushed twice before my midwife ushered me quickly back to bed.
On my hands and knees, she admonished me to push through the next wave of contractions.
I hesitated.
“Push your baby out.” she requested again.
I moved to my side. The burning was unlike anything I had ever felt. Moaning, I bore down and heeded her request.
Before I knew it, my midwife lifted our baby to my chest.
I remember saying, “Hi Baby. Hi Beautiful. Hi Sweetheart.” over and over again.
She was perfect.
She was sunshine though the skies were gray outside our bedroom window.
Lord, we are so grateful for the precious gift of our girl. Thank You doesn't do it justice. We pray that You'll enable us to raise her to love and live for You!
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