May 14th, 2021 - it was the night before birthing, and all through the house, every human was stirring, yes even the mouse. Okay, but really, things may have been stirring up in our house as the anticipation of your arrival was surely felt.
The truth is, there’s been this little dream secretly kept in our hearts from the start. Just about four years ago now. This sweet reality that your arrival was gently tucked into the very middle of may. A month that was always imprinted in my soul to cradle you. A month that left deep anguish in past seasons would be a blessing in another. A true gift from God. An absolute redemptive story.
Your due date came and went, but I wasn’t at all surprised that we’re over the estimated time of your arrival. It was a replica of your brothers entrance to this vast world. A world we eagerly waited for you to be apart of.
Each day following the surpassing of carrying you for 40 weeks felt like you were coming. Braxton Hick after Braxton Hick. Walk after walk. Coffee after coffee. Nothing out of the ordinary until that night. Our very last night as a family of three.
Seeing my legs draped over an extra large exercise ball at our oversized DIY farmhouse table was nothing out of the ordinary. I did it just about every night at the end of our pregnancy journey. It was comfortable that way. It was thrilling knowing I was doing what was best for my body. For us.
Karson requests pancakes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner in which that night, our pre-labor meal would be just that. Blueberry pancakes…or was it chocolate chip? Honestly, what I do remember is that at least three of them filled my plate. And yes, three of them also filled my stomach.
I glanced at the clock knowing bed time was near. 6:30 pm. Your dad was kindly washing the dishes spilling over in the sink and filling every ounce of my pregnancy love tank by cleaning up.
Than I stood - POP.
I remember the utterance on my face was a total mix of emotions. Absolutely startled, slightly puzzled, and kind of thrilled.
“Umm, I’m pretty sure I heard a popping noise” were the only words I could muster up. And just like that, my water broke in the galley kitchen of our little, two bedroom apartment.
The look that carried radiantly across your dad’s face was one I’ll never forget. Joy, bliss, excitement. All expressions of our very real present time. We each hugged as giggles rolled off our lips. This was it. You were coming.
As I worked through minor contractions, Brandon made all the calls and grabbed all the things. Racing up and down the stairs with questions as I soaked up the last few moments I’d have with Karson before he left to visit with his aunt for the weekend. Surreal. A special moment. A final moment, together as just purely us. I felt it and I know he knew too.
It was 9:30 pm now and Karson was headed out the door with our incredible family. I could have dished out at least a dozen hugs and just shy of what felt like 100 kisses to our sweet boy before he was underway to his weekend getaway. One last wave and they all faded into the distance underneath a moonlit night.
Every contraction after became closer and closer. Working through as many as I could before racing to the hospital was always our game plan. We felt excited to do just that. Us. Your dad and I. That’s always been my favorite place to be. By 11:00 pm, I knew it was time to go.
With our bags packed and hearts ready, we hopped into the vehicle. It wasn’t long - two quick contractions later, until our legs hit the cold cement of the emergency center. A short walk to check in and next thing we knew, “ding”. We landed on the third floor of labor and delivery.
Questions and answers bounced off the walls of that quaint delivery room, as we all prepared for the arrival of our second son. A new day was just minutes away and I was overwhelmed at the joy that you were coming.
After settling in, it was confirmed my dilation was a 4cm. I knew your arrival was coming soon because every surge got stronger by the minute. Your dad turned on the worship music and we worked together side by side for the next hour, captured by the thought of your presence in our arms. We make the best team. He was the greatest coach.
At the cusp of 1:00 am, I had progressed to a 6 cm. We were doing this. It was fast. I felt every pain and these next two hours would test my strength beyond anything I’ve ever known. Labor hit heavy and my mind circled with negative thoughts. This was active labor now and I knew that. So did everyone else in the room. Discouragement knocked on every door of my heart quickly and unable to shake it, I swayed through many more close contractions.
It was roughly forty five minutes later and the water spilled across the tub floor. The sound eased my mind knowing that this might help me relax. Every minute that passed Brandon reminded me of this. He remained steadfast to the mission. Gazed into my eyes and declared the strength I had and the power of our God. He prayed and didn’t give up, even when I wanted to.
Completely out of my element, my feet breathed in the warmth of the bath and I soaked. For what felt like forever proved to be a short twenty minutes. Toss. Contraction. Turn. Contraction. Toss again. Contraction. Two minutes apart. Wailing at the agony of all that my body felt, I held tightly to your dads hand and pleaded. Begging for rest. My eyelids lowered and I found myself dozing off during the ninety second break.
“I know this wasn’t our plan, but it’s too hard. My body needs a break. I don’t think I can do this” I muffled. “I’m so sorry”. The words felt painful to leave my lips, but Brandon graciously loved me through every one. Supported me with every breath he could offer. He exited the room to call for the nurse.
The flashback of karsons birth came to mind when I recalled having to shuffle my way back to the bed. As soon as one contraction ended and a break began, I steered in that direction as quickly as I knew how. I tumbled into the bed at just about 2:30 am. 8 cm and counting. This was it. A undeniable gift from God. It was clear that you were coming and quick. “I don’t want the epidural anymore” I exclaimed gazing at Brandon. We can do this.
Hooked up to the monitor I ached through a handful of contractions. It was only moments later when I loudly claimed, “I need to push!”. Quickly, the nurse checked dilation. 9 cm. “But don’t push. Just work through some more contractions” her voice uttered.
It was 3 am and the atmosphere changed. Everything moved rapidly. The midwife arrived. I was on the bed and your dad was still cheering me on, every second by my side.
Breathing in, breathing out. It was a simple gesture that seemed to slip my mind these final moments before meeting you. With an oxygen mask cascading across my lips, we pushed several times for about fifteen minutes. Encouraging words flying across the room and bouncing off the walls. I leaned into every one. I needed them. Despite the desperate exhaustion, the pushes kept coming at every call.
3:26 am and I entered into the reality of what I knew to be the most magical time of my life. You slipped into this big world and right into my very arms. I was overcome by utter joy. A kind of pure happiness that I’ve only felt a few moments of my life. You were here. You were on my chest and tears spilled out of our eyes.
I vocally uttered “oh my gosh, I love you”. No one could take that love I had for you away and no one ever will. Your dad and I did it. You did it. We welcomed you to the earthside the morning of May 15th, 2021 and I’ll simply never forget it.
Every ounce of pain left my body and your gentle touch was everything I could have ever dreamed of and even more.
8 lbs and 2 oz of pure bliss.
Myles Indy Barrett, so much love is wrapped around you. Always and forever.
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