Four

Four years ago, you entered this world and although I'd carried you for ten months, I couldn't wait to know you. Yesterday was the anniversary of your birth, and while I feel that I know you to the marrow of my bones, you often still have me shaking my head in amazement.

You are an utterly fascinating creature, my C.

Quietly proud. Strong. Unapologetically honest. Brave. Curious. Uncommonly self-aware. Compassionate. Loving. Stoic. Introverted. Humorous. Intelligent. Stubborn. Persistent.

Just as in the year you were born, the wildflowers are beginning to bloom. I love that they will mark the beginning of every year of your life, my wild child.

You are in Montessori preschool right now. You are drawn to figuring out how things work, discovering new plants and insects and animals in our beautiful desert landscape. Your imagination is wonderfully inventive, and I love playing with you in the worlds of your own creation. You are a self-proclaimed "cat guy" and you adore animals. You're learning to ride horses, and I'm betting that this will be the year that you say goodbye to the training wheels on your bike. I think you may enjoy cooking as you grow up, because you certainly enjoy helping to bake and cook and assemble your lunches! I've even been letting you cut your own vegetables and fruit with a knife, and you're working on peeling potatoes - it's hard work for small hands. I can always count on your help when I am sewing, and you are so proud of the hand-sewing you bring home from school!

I don't know many things for absolute certain. But one of them is that I am here on this earth to love and nurture and support you as you grow. You and your sister are incredible people and it's an honor to be chosen to help guide you as best I can.

May you always walk a path of love. I hope for your own sake that it has many challenges, and sometimes it will seem that it's in darkness or too difficult to keep going, but always know that I am with you. Every night I tuck you into bed with Captain Sea Salt, the plush cat toy that I sewed for you, and I remind you that if you feel lonely, every stitch of him was sewn specially for you with my love. My heart is in your heart. My hand is in your hand. I don't have to be near you to be with you; always.
Love,
Mama

Ten Years Later - the story of Us

On that Sunday, there was no indication that it might be a different or particularly important day in my life. It was February 20th, 2005. I can't recall what I'd done that morning or afternoon, other than I had a sense of excitement, of anticipation, because I was going to bravely walk into the indoor sports center, lace up my new roller skates, and step out onto those plastic tiles. I hoped not to look like an idiot. The coach that night had bleached blonde hair with black and pink streaks, heavy black eye makeup, some band t-shirt, and a broken thumb. Her name was eeka (lowercase e, yep), and she wasn't skating. Since it was my very first practice, I was going to require some special attention. The skating coach was actually a referee, a shy white guy everyone called Pablo. I remember his long braided goatee. Pablo was in charge of running the practice, which was populated with experienced skaters, and they were running drills I couldn't even dream of participating in.

Before roller derby practice, there was men's hockey on the schedule. I remember the building stank of stale sweat and plastic. It echoed with the jeers and laughter of everyone gearing up. Pablo rolled up to me and explained that I was going to be paired with an experienced skater, who would teach me the basics. I rolled, wobbly and uncertain, in my brand new speed skates, over to the corner. Pablo introduced me to a girl wearing a Care Bear shirt (the green bear!) and a jean skirt. She had short hair tucked behind her ears, sparkling brown eyes, and a grin that stretched across her face. Her name was Dirty T. 

I find it infinitely entertaining now, to think about that green Care Bear with a 4-leaf clover displayed proudly on his white tummy - he was the Good Luck bear. Indeed, he brought us more good luck and good fortune than I could imagine. 

T and I were eighteen. The only teenagers in the whole league. That night, she taught me to keep my knees bent, complete a T-stop, and how to fall to one knee then stand back up. But in the 13 years since then... she's taught me much more. That night, I made a new friend. She was generous and kind and quick to laugh and encouraging. She offered to pick me up for Wednesday's practice, since those were held elsewhere and it wasn't easy to find. I gladly took her up on it. She still is generous and kind and quick to laugh and encouraging, and I still need help with directions sometimes, but now I get to call her my wife. 

In May of 2008, she asked me to marry her. I don't remember if I said "yes", but I do remember the tears from both our cheeks mixing when I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her. We were twenty-one. Three months later, we joined our lives and hearts formally, in a small ceremony at the Laguna Hills county clerk's office. We asked the officiant to skip the ring exchange part, so that we could exchange our vows and rings with one another that evening on the beach, as the sun dove toward the waves of the Pacific. We celebrated with champagne and a barbecue in the cooling sand. 

The next morning, we were in a gorgeous little art shop, and the salesperson asked us what we were in town for. "We got married yesterday!" was the enthusiastic reply. It was surreal. The salesperson looked sincerely happy for us. We drove back home that day and celebrated with a huge number of friends and family members that night. 

The early years weren't simple. We loved each other; but it often felt like it was the two of us against the world. We fought hard for acceptance. We looked carefully around and filled our lives with people who could love us for who we were, but that bubble felt small sometimes. In a world where you feel that your love is constantly under attack, it's simple to grab onto each other and hold tight. We're both stubborn, hardheaded fighters and we weren't willing to give up. 

Over the years, our bubble has grown so much. We're accepted by a larger swath of people. I'm thrilled to tell people, "My homosexuality is the least interesting part of my life," and actually be right. Of course there are still challenges, and there will always be bigoted people, but we've got a huge support system and I know that I can face anything with T's hand in mine. We are extremely fortunate. 

Our family has grown in other ways, too. It started with a dog. Then we brought home a cat. Then we fostered some more dogs and cats and upon T's insistence, I grudgingly found them forever homes that weren't our own. I snuck home a rescue horse not too long after we were married (would not recommend) and surprise! She was pregnant. Soon we had a dog, a cat, the rescue mare and her colt, plus my old rodeo gelding. 

A year after the colt was born, we became licensed foster parents and welcomed three children into our lives and hearts. After two years of loving children who would never be ours, we decided we were ready for a child who was ours. In 2012, T carried and birthed our daughter E. My heart burst open with the intensity of my love for both of them, and I found that it knit itself back together even larger than it was before. Now we had a whole other human to fight for. We knew that we had a huge responsibility for this little life, not just the regular child-rearing concerns but I stayed awake nights worrying about her future with two mothers. Again, hand in hand in tiny hand, we stood together. Now we were advocates for a person much more important than ourselves. 

E grew into a magical, hilarious child. She was more than we ever knew we needed. Yet our family didn't feel complete. We knew we wanted two children. In 2016, I carried and birthed our son, C. Once more, I found myself being broken open and overwhelmed with the intensity of love I felt for not only C, but for our family as a whole. We were more than the sum of our parts. Once again, my heart found all its myriad pieces and stuck itself back together, but now with all the old stitches from before and the new embroidery I pieced it together with, it was larger yet again. As I held our newborn son and our three year old daughter and felt T's arms around all of us, I knew my whole world was contained in that embrace. 

We're older now. Turning 32 this year. Together, we've weathered storm after storm. Hand in hand in hand in hand, we are a unit. We are a force to be reckoned with. With an army of love behind us and our hands locked together, we will face what comes our way. 

It's not been an easy road. Life will continue to present us with challenges. It can be difficult to maintain a marriage while working and completing grad school and parenting two young children. There may be two children to hold between us, wife, but you are still the cornerstone to my castle. You help me keep my feet on the ground and my speedometer below illegality. 

I know that I can face anything, with your hand in mine. This has been the best ten years of my life. 

Happy Anniversary, darling. 

Mothering humanity

Dearest children of mine,

I love writing to you. I love the thought that one day, an adult version of you, maybe even a parent yourself, will read my words from a time when you were still small and young. Perhaps you'll learn something about me you didn't know. I dream that maybe my words will help your current situation, whatever it may be. At the very least, I hope you can feel the love I carry for you always. 

But sometimes... I am filled with uncertainty about what I should write. To be honest? How honest? How much should I protect future-you from present-me?

The world is filled with unimaginable beauty and good, my loves. I want you to know all of it. There are good people everywhere, we call them "The Helpers". In every city, town, and community, there are The Helpers. Mom and I are some of them. You'll grow to become them, too. In some ways, you're already The Helpers, because of your good and joyful hearts. 

But today, this week... I'm struggling. I nearly wrote that I'm struggling to find my path forward, but that's untrue. You two are my path forward. You're the answer to every question I ask. But current events and the current political climate together create a country that I'm often disappointed in. Sometimes, I find the accumulation of terrible events and deeds happening daily to weigh heavily upon my shoulders. 

Right now, we have the most unqualified person in history sitting in the Oval Office, pulling strings and making decisions as if he truly represents the people of the United States. He's selfish and cruel, uncaring about the plight of the poor and middle-classed; unable to sympathize with desperation and heartbreak that come with disasters that have wreaked havoc in the lives of millions of people. His agenda includes taking affordable health care away from the masses, building a huge wall across the US/Mexico border, preventing anyone of the Muslim faith from entering our country, refusing to aid refugees fleeing murder and devastation in their home countries, handing tax breaks to corporations and the wealthiest Americans, and removing the ability for women to make our own decisions about our reproductive health, among other things. 

Earthquakes broke apart the earth and killed hundreds of people in Mexico; hurricanes and flooding ravaged Texas, Florida, Louisiana, Puerto Rico and the Caribbean islands. Months later, much of Puerto Rico is without power and water and food and the death toll continues to climb. Much of northern California and the northwestern part of the States fell victim to fire after blazing fire, burning up homes and businesses and lives. In October, a man mass-murdered 50 people at an outdoor music festival in Vegas from a 32nd floor hotel room with automatic weapons. A few weeks later, another man rented a truck and drove it onto a pedestrian path in Manhattan, killing 8 people. In November, another man mass-murdered 26 people inside a church in Sutherland Springs, Texas with a semi-automatic rifle. That was 6 days ago. Since then, we're learning about the horrific things that men in power have done to women just because they wanted to and they could. Huge names in politics and entertainment are falling from grace as countless women step forward to share stories long hidden and held close for fear of personal and professional consequences.  

I carry so much empathy and compassion for others that reading and listening to accounts from victims of any one of these issues is taxing. As a whole, the cumulative experiences of pain and suffering are crippling. At the end of all of it, through the haze of knowing that these things have happened and are happening, the thought I'm left with is: 

What if these things happen to MY babies, like they happen to other people's babies every day? 

I'm living on a thin edge between the planes of confidence and fear, my loves. Every decision I make is calculated to help you become the best adult you can possibly be but also to keep you as safe as I can. Having lived through middle school and high school myself, I know that being a kid on the fringe or being an "outcast" from whomever happens to be popular, can be character-building experiences. I also realize that for some kids, these terrible experiences have ended their lives. Ultimately, I don't get to choose what experiences you get and which you don't. We both just have to live with what comes to us. 

I know I make mistakes. I'll make more. I'm sorry for what I don't get right. 

Just know that everything I do... it's borne of my absolute love and devotion for each of you. 

So grow. Learn. Conquer. Seek. Step forward into the light and find your paths. Be bold and confident, children of mine, and together we will do our best to keep the fear and darkness at bay. Together, we will help create a culture, a country, a world that's a better place to be than it is today. 

I will always be behind you. 

One Birth, Four Stories

As with E's birth, we're writing C's birth story in several perspectives, each without having read the others. The red text is mine (A), the purple text is T's, the photos illustrate T's mom's perspective and at the end, the green text is my mom's.


A Whirl of a Wednesday - A's perspective

Before I can tell you the story of C's birth, I have to tell you about our lives at this point. His due date fell right between the end of a year-long online certification program that I had to complete and the closings of our houses - one sold, one purchased - and the busiest time of year at T's job. The last month of my pregnancy with him is a blur of sitting at the computer into the night, playing with E, and watching T feverishly work long nights and pack up our house in preparation for the move. He was due six days prior to our move across town.

Sunday, we went for a short family hike and took some sunset photos. Little did we know that these would be the last photos taken before I went into labor.

Photo by T

It's All About Timing - T's Perspective

It's been said that I'm a little bit of a control freak. It's even been said by me. So being the non-gestational parent has been an exercise in patience for me. Throw in our move, and my sanity has been borderline for a while. Even so, one of the biggest differences for me was work- with E, we were at a slow point at work, and it wouldn't be a big deal when I needed to drop everything and leave. This time, that was not true.

February is traditionally the busiest month of the year, and although this year, March held that honor, it was not slow by any means. The week of A's due date was one of the biggest shows of the year for our theater, and there wasn't enough time to set it up, so they were going to have to work through the night.  Lucky for us, there are 4 supervisors to split the shifts between, so we didn't have to work 36 hours straight.  My schedule ended up being 3pm on Monday through 5am on Tuesday. and then back from 5pm to 11pm. E stayed the night at my parents house so I would be able to sleep and not worry about getting her to preschool. Unfortunately Murphy's law had other ideas and a construction crew started working behind our house at 8am.  By 10 am I gave up, and rolled out of bed. I got some lunch with my mom, picked E up from school, picked A up from work, and spent some packing before heading back to work. 

Monday and Tuesday I went to work as usual, nothing exciting to report. Tuesday night Teri was scheduled to work late, so E and I had some naps and a late dinner and as I was getting her ready for bed, I had to use the bathroom. I had some blood and fluid in my underwear. I texted Teri to let her know that things may be ramping up, but I wasn't experiencing any contractions yet.

E lay in her bed and we read stories, but I found I couldn't lie next to her for cuddles like usual because I'd begun having some rhythmic cramping through my pelvis. I explained that my body was getting ready to push the baby out. E seemed less than pleased about not having her cuddle, but excited about the baby coming soon. I kissed her goodnight, told her how much I loved her, and pulled the door closed to her room, guessing that the next time I saw her, our lives would be very different.

The evening went much smoother than the the overnight had (go figure), so when the other supervisor asked if he could head out after the second half of the show started, I didn't give it another thought since this is how we did it every time. Of course, about 10 minutes later I got a text from A-

A- No contractions or anything, but I've got blood coming out of me
A- Well, not JUST blood. I'm not hemorrhaging.
T- Like "bloody show"?
A- Yes.
T- Well that's exciting...
A- I'm having a hard time getting there at the moment... our daughter is wide awake and crying because I don't want to peel the bandaid off her arm and put on a new one
A- It's hard to tell, but I'm pretty sure I've got some contractions happening
T- I'm sorry E is having a rough night.
T- Let me know if I need to skip out early... I should be done in about 90 minutes
A- She and I both got naps, I'm more concerned about you
T- If things start to slow and you make it to midnight tomorrow, he will be born on his due date, too!
A- What a lovely thing to wish upon me, lol.
T- That's why I didn't say "if your labor is really long," Only the very early part.;)
A- Haha, well worded. These are closer together than I expected, but they're mild. Is that weird? I can't tell what the heck is happening.

The whole conversation was over about an hour (starting at 9:22pm), but I didn't see her last message until I was leaving. We had discussed the fact that she needed to be very upfront about her telling me if she needed me to come home immediately or not, so I didn't feel like a terrible wife for finishing out my call. 

I crawled into bed to try and rest and wait for T to come home. I heard the car beep as she locked it and came into the house around 11:30 pm. She slid into bed and wrapped her arms around me. We slept for a short time, but around 1:00 am I found being in bed unbearable. I took a long shower - I didn't get out until the water grew chilly. I toweled my hair and put on comfortable clothes and went in search of comfort elsewhere in the house. I stood, I sat, I lounged, I walked. I tried to watch TV. T came out after a bit, unable to sleep. She offered to french braid my hair and I gladly took her up on it, since I can't french braid my own hair. Sitting cross-legged on the floor through several contractions wasn't my idea of a good time, so I ruled out that as a comfortable laboring position. I leaned backwards on a chair, I layed on my side on the couch. For awhile, T and I lay together on the couch, bodies nestled together, and she held me as I breathed and hummed and contracted. She whispered loving, supportive breaths into my ear and rubbed my back. She made me eat food and drink water and continually offered new and different ideas for ways to labor. Finally just before 5:00 am, she called my parents (who have a two hour drive ahead of them) to let them know that the baby was on his way. After that, she called the birth center to alert the midwife on call that I was in labor. T spoke to her and told her how I was doing, then I spoke to her briefly so she could assess how I was handling labor. She gave the same advice we'd been offered before: "Come in when you need more support, feel like pushing, or your water breaks" with a new caveat - call us first, as there were several moms laboring at that time. Both at the center and at the hospital. It was a busy morning.

Photo by T

Photo by T

I sped home and found her in bed, trying to get some rest. I was torn between excitement, wanting to stay calm and help her through contractions, and really, really wanting to sleep since I was guessing there wouldn't be much more opportunity. I laid down with her and she filled me in on how everything was feeling and encouraged me to sleep. We both tried for a while, drifted in and out of sleep, but the contractions were already strong enough that she couldn't sleep through them, so she got up and took a shower. When she was done she went to the living room hoping that I would sleep more, but I just couldn't, so I went out to see how she was doing.  She was only a little annoyed that I wasn't sleeping.  I suggested we watch a movie and I braid her hair. We put on The Hunger Games - maybe not the best choice, but we didn't really watch much anyways.

When the movie was over, around 3, I started the labor and delivery music mix we had made while A tried to find a comfortable position. We tried different combinations of chairs and pillows to no avail. Eventually we decided to go back to bed. We agreed we would call our parents at 5am, so her parents could miss the morning rush hour for their 2 hour drive down. We tried to time her contractions, but they were really inconsistent. She would have 2 or 3 really close together and then have a longer break, usually about 7-10 minutes. During the longer breaks she would fall asleep and be startled awake by the next contraction. I remember this from my labor and it was pretty awful, so I did my best to help her wake up a little earlier in the contraction so she could relax instead of fighting it by reflex. 

5am came and I called her mom to tell her that she had been laboring through the night and they should come now. I texted my mom and told her the baby was on his way and I would let them know when we were heading to the Birth Center. I called the Birth Center and left a message with the answering service. A few minutes later, a midwife, Jamie, called back, asked for all of the details and talked to A for a little while. She asked how far away we lived and since it was less than a mile, she wanted us to wait as long as we could since it was a busy morning. Since I know they change shifts at 7am, I asked who was replacing her and it was Cece, who we really don't know well. 

After that, things happened really fast for me. My contractions grew more intense, closer together, and then began double and then triple peaking. I probably asked T forty times if my parents were getting close yet. I began worrying that they weren't going to make it; I could tell my labor was hastening towards the finish line and I knew that the baby wasn't going to wait. Turns out my parents had needed some time to get things together and get ready before leaving the house, so they were slightly delayed. T also called her parents to give them a heads up, although they only lived two miles away so there was no need for them to rush over.

Unfortunately, our timing was a bit off, because that's when things started getting intense. Contractions were really ramping up, but were still coming in 2s and 3s. A had to get out of bed to throw up and that raised my anxiety a lot.  Was this Transition? A asked how far away her parents were, so I texted. The response made my stomach drop... they had JUST left. I realized I hadn't packed the car yet, and went into a panic. I should have done that when she could handle contractions alone, but now I was going to have to leave her by herself, because there was no way I was waiting for her parents. I frantically ran around the house gathering all the things that needed to come-- our birth bag, camera bag, diaper bag, car seat, chargers, snacks, etc. Every few minutes I would check on her, and reassure her that her dad drives fast and they would definitely make it (I didn't even believe myself). After a while, her mom checked in to see if it was okay if A's brother drove down, too (which it was).

Between my panic, and trying to be there for the worst of the contractions, this took quite a while.  After about an hour, I had everything packed in the car and ready to go. By this point, A was having a really hard time and I told her we needed to go to the Birth Center NOW. It took 2 sets of contractions before she was willing to get out of bed and try to make it down the hall. While I waited, I texted my parents and told them they needed to come, my dad needed to stay with E who was still sleeping, and my mom was going to photograph the birth (which meant I got to help photograph when there was opportunity!). A stopped in the kitchen and leaned on the counter while I called the Birth Center answering service and told them we were on our way.

At about 8:15 am, both sets of parents arrived simultaneously. E was still asleep, and I'd been laboring in our bed for the last several hours. Our house still held within it the quiet, golden peace of early morning as I walked and contracted down the hallway and into the kitchen that Wednesday morning. The sunlight filtered through the blinds above the kitchen sink and I watched the dust motes swirl through the air as I heard cars pulling into our driveway. Another contraction broke the surface and I clutched the kitchen counter for support as I heard our parents greeting one another on their way in.

It was a strange and disjointed mixture of purposes. The parents likely felt energized and excited about the day to come - they were all getting a new grandchild! They probably also felt like I must have a ways left to go. I was no longer in a place in my labor where I could socialize and experience their joy, though I hope they all can understand that their happiness seeped in around the edges and has stayed with me ever since. There's nothing like knowing the baby about to join the world is being welcomed with anticipation and excitement and the love of two families. However, I think T and I knew that this baby was a lot closer to coming than anyone else realized. T began to splinter just a tiny bit, between trying to corral me into the car and greet our parents. My mom came into the kitchen and gave me a big hug between contractions. She stayed with me and rubbed my back while I had more contractions and T readied the car.

Naturally, ALL THE GRANDPARENTS showed up at exactly the same time. Our home filled with love and excitement, but this just made my panic worse.  Didn't they know if we didn't leave now he would be born in the car?!?

My mom wanted to take some pictures, everyone wanted an update, and I was, by default, in charge of coming up with a plan. I tried to figure out who would go in each car, trying to leave one with a car seat for our dads so they could bring E when she woke up.  I didn't realize my dad drove separately than my mom and had theirs, and eventually yelled, "We are going in the Ford, both mom's need to come NOW, I don't care how you get there. Someone has to stay with E, here's a key to the house" I took a deep breath and calmly (I think), ushered A into the car. 

We tried to time the drive between sets of contractions, but didn't luck out in that regard.  A found it really uncomfortable to sit, so she kneeled, facing the back of the car, hugging the head rest.  This is how we drove the 3/4 of a mile to the Birth Center at the tail end of rush hour.  It was about 9am when we arrived. 

Our dads stayed behind to be in charge of E, once she woke up. The moms came with us to the birth center. We arrived into the pleasant routine bustle of the clinic on a sunny weekday morning around 9:00 am. I was both elated and relieved that the first face I saw inside the door was that of Judy, the nurse we had for most of T's labor and our lactation consultant. I like all the staff at the birth center, but we've grown to trust and love Judy and I couldn't believe we were so lucky as to get her twice. Our midwife was Cece, someone who we'd met but hadn't had opportunity to develop a relationship with, so at that point she was an unknown quantity. Judy asked what room I'd like to deliver in, and I questioningly looked into her sparkling eyes and asked if it was possible to have the Green Room that I'd so thoroughly fallen in love with during a breastfeeding consultation. She replied that I could have it, I just had to wait for a patient completing a Non-Stress Test to finish up. I happily complied, which meant all of us stood around in the tiny kitchenette for twenty minutes while I leaned over chairs and breathed out my contractions.

We were so excited to see that our nurse was going to be Judy, who was the same nurse from E's birth and A had seen her for a breastfeeding consultation. My stress level immediately dropped. One of the hard things with the Birth Center is that you get whichever midwife is on call.  Throughout your pregnancy, you try to meet all of them, but we definitely knew some better than others.  Since the midwife we got wasn't one we had a relationship with, it was great that the nurse was.

There are 4 rooms at the Birth Center, and each has a color/theme. E was born in the Blue Room, which is lovely, but the bed has a foot board and is against a wall, both of which were inconvenient, so we didn't want to use it again. We absolutely hated the color and décor in the Pink Room. The Santa Fe (or was is Southwest?) room was okay. But our absolute favorite was the Green Room. It was big and beachy and lovely, but they used it for other things, too. So when Judy asked which room we wanted, A meekly asked if the Green Room was available.  She told us that they were doing a non-stress test in there, but if we could wait, we could use it. 

I was a little surprised that the car ride and change of scenery didn't slow my labor at all. If anything, it was continuing to grow more intense. In hindsight, this should have been an indicator. We got into the Green Room and I immediately had a triple peaking contraction. It took two or three sets of triple contractions for Cece to get mine and the baby's vitals, and then came the moment of truth: first cervical check (actually, the first pelvic exam of any kind since I'd gotten pregnant - a testament to midwifery care). As I lie back on the pillows, I was thinking only that I hoped not to get any contractions while being checked. Cece announced I was 8 centimeters dilated and completely effaced. The surprise in the room was almost palpable, but I replied "Bless you!" gratefully and got back out of bed for more contractions. Someone exclaimed, "Eight?! Did she say EIGHT?!" But it really wasn't a surprise for me.

I was nervous about waiting, but it seemed like I was the only one.  So we waited in the kitchenette with all of our bags, and A leaned over the back of a chair breathing through her contractions. About 20 minutes later, the room was ours.  Ashleigh made it to the edge of the bed before another set of contractions started.  The midwife listed to the baby with a Doppler and then waited patiently for them to fade.  She had A sit on the bed  and she took her blood pressure. Another wave of contractions started before she could check dilation. This was the moment of truth-- when we were at here during my labor, our spirits all broke a little bit when they told me I was only 1cm after 11 hours of labor, so we were anxious to know. The next time there was a break, she checked and announced A was 8cms and 100% effaced.  The tension in the room dropped; we were almost there.

Photo by Grandpa

Someone convinced me to try going into the tub for awhile, so they began filling it up. I stripped off my bottoms and clambered over the tub wall into its warm depths. It was large and luxurious and when I settled to the bottom, I was already much more comfortable. I recall being concerned that laboring in the tub would stall my labor, and I asked Judy if she thought that would happen. I believe the answer was something like, "You're progressing just fine, don't worry about it." I found a way to wedge my elbows and arms so that I could brace during contractions, and I labored for about an hour this way. My comfort dissipated slowly as the contractions built upon one another, bringing our son closer and closer to his debut. I moved onto my hands and knees and found myself pushing and growling involuntarily during certain contractions. I registered the entrance of Judy and Cece at the sound of my growls. Looking through photos, I see that someone also brought in the big towel and sheet warming bag and that Cece had her sterile packages all ready, waiting to see where I'd want to deliver. I didn't notice these things in the moment, or I would have realized that C was much closer than he seemed.

They asked if A wanted to use the tub and she was really uncertain.  We decided to get it ready so she could use it if she wanted to.  After a few extra tough contractions, she was ready to try.  It wasn't long before she started having some pushy contractions and her water broke. She kept laboring in the tub and would fight a pushing contraction every once an a while. I thought she was handling everything really well, but at one point she looked up and announced that she needed a pep talk.  Everyone burst into their own variation of  "You can do this!" Knowing that generic cheerleading wasn't her favorite type of encouragement, I leaned my head on her shoulder and quietly told her how amazing she had been doing and that she needed to trust herself and her body. We were going to do this, and she was amazing.

I think Judy asked me if I was planning a water birth, to which the answer was a resounding NO. It truly sounded lovely and peaceful... until I got to thinking about climbing OUT of the tub with a wet slippery newborn and crawling into a nice clean bed while soaking wet. That wasn't appealing, so I didn't want to birth in the tub. Chuckles echoed around the tub as Judy remarked that if I didn't want a water birth, I really needed to get out of the tub. My pushing contractions grew more frequent. Carefully, I stood out of the water and held onto two people's hands - but I'm not sure whose. My mom and Judy, maybe. I shuffled into the bathroom and sat on the toilet while the birthing stool was set up for me. As long as we've talked about and dreamed of creating our family, I thought birthing while squatting would be the way to go for me. It increases the size of your pelvic inlet and gives you more strength and power to push. Then I discovered that a birthing stool exists - enabling me to birth while squatting, but without having to hold up all my own weight.

While I labored on the toilet, there may have been some back and forth arguing between me and every woman in the room about whether or not I really did have to poop. I stubbornly resisted all their kind cajoling and quiet laughter and insisted on staying on the toilet longer, despite my contractions being nearly all pushing contractions at this point. Finally, they got me off the toilet and into the room to sit on the stool. They'd set me up with a lilac molded plastic stool, surrounded by waterproof pads. Teri helped me sit down on it but I quickly sprang up, in significant pain due to some lovely hemorrhoids I'd developed during the pregnancy. In order to use that stool I was going to have to sit directly on them, and I could not do it. I got up too fast and it caused a surprise contraction to hit halfway between sitting and standing, and I think that was the worst contraction I had the whole labor. I was so grateful when it subsided and I could hobble stubbornly back to my friend, the toilet.

The nurse checked in to see if she wanted to deliver in the tub or not, and since she didn't, she probably needed to get out. A wanted to try and go to the bathroom before actual pushing started, so we got her out, wrapped her in a warm blanket, and hobbled over to the toilet. Sitting on the toilet made her urge to push more insistent, but she was still in denial that we were already to that part. She told us that she was sure he would never fit.  

A different birthing stool was set up for me and eventually I was convinced to come back out and try it. It was a horseshoe-shaped metal frame; better for hemorrhoid avoidance. I perched my behind carefully on the back of the frame and hooked my knees around the outside corners of the front. Cece advised me to lean forward and grab hold of the upright supports on the stool for extra added power during contractions. At this point, my body gave me a brief rest of about five minutes so I could get more comfortable on the stool. T got a large warm towel and draped it over my shoulders.

My contractions were all pushing contractions, but since they were all still triple-peaking, it gave me opportunity to fit in several hearty pushes each time. While I was on the stool, E came in to check on me and I instantly knew that this was not the calm, quiet Mama I wanted to present her with. I was red-faced and breathing hard, and primal guttural growls were all that would escape my mouth. I wanted badly to hug her and tell her that I was okay, but I couldn't move. My mom wrapped her arms around me and gave a huge reassuring smile to E. I don't remember what she said, but I think E was okay. She wanted to go back to her grandfathers after that.

It seemed like every contraction at this point was a pushing contraction, so I told her she HAD to get off the toilet. She wasn't going to give birth to our son on the toilet. This finally convinced her to move to the birthing stool, but that was short lived. it was so uncomfortable that she stood back up too quickly and was stuck half way up in a contraction. I tried to hold as much of her body weight as I could until it subsided and then we hobbled back to the toilet.  They got another stool that was higher and had a smaller edge. After the next round of contractions, we convinced her to try this one.

It was much better and the midwife told her she should put her legs on the outside and bend down and pull on the upright bars.  This gave her a lot of power, but she was still fighting it a bit. E wanted to come see us, so she came in for a minute.  It was very overwhelming to her, so she didn't stay long.

I'd been really focused on pushing for only a few contractions when Cece told me she was going to touch me and apply some warmed oil to help stretch my perineum. I pushed into her touch and she said his head was right there, about to crown. I felt my skin tearing apart to make room for him. Teri exclaimed that the baby had a lot of hair. I pushed again, and Cece told me to go easy.

"Just pant a little bit and his head will be born."
"No way."
"Here he is! Now, just push gently and his body will follow."
...
"Holy shit!"
"No, that's a baby!" (cue more laughter)

If that seems sudden, well... it was. I didn't expect him so quickly. Truth be told, I didn't expect him at all.

I obviously knew I was pregnant, but it was really difficult to come to terms with the fact that this growing belly, these kicks and flutters and hiccups were going to produce a human being. The end of my pregnancy was so busy and we spent so much time wondering about how the timing was going to work, that I had pretty much no time to daydream about this tiny person, and so he didn't seem real until he came out and Cece had to gently remind me that he was a baby, he had arrived, and I needed to pick him up.

Once she had gone, the midwife told A to listen to what her body was telling her to do and she finally was able to stop fighting the contractions and work with them instead. After about 2 rounds of contractions (which had never stopped double and triple peaking) the midwife announce that he was starting to crown.  I looked and saw a mess of dark hair. This wasn't really what we expected. We are in touch with a lot of the families that used the same donor as us and the babies were pretty split between having hair when they were born (like E) and not.  Since A and her brother were both born with very little hair, that was what we expected.  I remember vividly when I was pushing E out and the midwife announced that she saw hair.  I thought "Of course, we knew she had hair," and then realized how weird it would be if she didn't look how we expected.  With this in mind, I knew I had to give A some time to prepare, so I told her.

It was probably 2 more pushes before the midwife reached down and told A to pant through the next one and his head would be born. Then she told her to push out the shoulders.  I think she should have included the word "small" when she told her to push again, because she was not prepared for how quickly he came out the rest of the way.  She held onto his head and let his legs fall onto all of the pads below. Everyone was in shock. The she told A that she needed to pick up her baby.

The moment my fingers touched his warm, slippery body and brought him to my chest to hug and kiss for the first time, my heart broke wide open and immediately knit itself back together again, just a little bit larger than it had been. Of course there was room for this perfect creature, this amazing child with a full head of black hair and a widow's peak like mine, who fit just right into my arms. I was incredulous. I was still in disbelief that he'd come out of me, that my pregnancy was definitely over and THIS was the person coming home and joining our family.

I remember the moment of E's birth with a great sense of relief, exhaustion, and disbelief.  Watching our son being born, I think those were all still there but in very different ways (and far less exhaustion). I also felt so proud of how well A had done. The moment of his birth was so much more emotionally overwhelming to me. I was in such a daze after E's birth, so it was very different to be present.

Judy gave him a quick toweling while I hugged him, then we scooted carefully into bed and had warm sheets tucked around us. Cece asked who was to cut his umbilical cord. We had decided that my mom would get to cut it, but I guess we forgot to tell her that part because seeing her face light up with joy when the scissors were handed to her just filled my heart with love all over again. She cut the rubbery cord, separating our bodies completely for the first time. T slid in beside me and got her first glimpse of our son's face.

Judy and Cece got out the headlamp and the suture kit to do my repair, but I was floating on a cloud of bliss, drinking in all the details of my son's face. His forehead was wrinkled in a perpetual look of disapproval, complete with furrowed brow. His lips were deep red and perfectly pouty. I noticed his little shoulders had tufts of hair on them, and I stroked his soft wrinkled skin as the tears leaked gently out of the corners of my eyes.

E came in first and clambered up into T's lap to meet her new brother. Her face was awash with wonder as she saw this tiny dark-haired bundle in my arms. Her eyes lit up and her smile stretched her lips wide. Warmth spilled from my eyes as I fell in love with my daughter all over again.

We helped A over to the bed and all cuddled up inside. His quick descent left A with a significant tear that the midwife needed to repair. Someone went and got E, and she climbed up in bed with us to meet her new brother. 

We had become a family of 4.

Then it was our fathers' and my brother's turn to come in. They filed in with bright shining faces and I felt love and joy coming from each of them. Everyone took a turn holding C, and he was passed carefully from protective embrace to protective embrace. There is no better demonstration of how your family will protect your children than the way they tenderly hold them when they're very first born. There was fierce pride and blazing happiness in that room as we all met this wonderful child.

Everyone who had been waiting came in and we snapped some quick photos before getting our son back to A's arms so he could be skin-to-skin.

Surrounded by love and strong, kind women, our son entered this world and this family. I couldn't have done it without Judy and Cece's reassurances and confidence, nor without the unwavering love from our mothers. But T was my light in the darkness, leading me home. She always is that for me. I needed every single person and the unique things they each had to offer me. Thank you all for being there for me and C. We love you.

It was just the birth we had hoped for, surrounded by a group of strong women all lending their love and support.  It was surreal and wonderful and awe-inspiring. 

Sue's Perspective

While preparing to write my recollection of C's birth I realized all my thoughts really weren’t about C, they were about his mother - my daughter. I believe that God watches over us, but most especially babies, this baby. I remember feeling joy and peace about this sweet boy who was joining our family. I really wasn’t concerned about him. I wasn’t worried about him being born in a birth center instead of a hospital. After all, E’s birth was so great and the birth center experience was eye-opening.  I wasn’t worried he’d be healthy. T and E did fantastically! I had total faith that he was going to join us, perfect, healthy, and a blessed little boy. All of those things turned out true.

When T called to tell us that A had been in labor all night and that we should start our 2 hour drive south, I could not have been more excited. Very quickly, bat out of hell turned to a headless chicken.  Putting the dogs out and then letting them in. Putting the keys in the fridge and then looking for them. Getting dressed as if I was going to work, then undressing - bra underwear and all, while Mike watched strangely, why are you naked, I thought we were leaving? Huh, well I have no idea.

Deep down in my soul, I knew this was a spectacular day. Yes, C was coming, but A was having a baby. My daughter who was destined to be a mom and have a family was giving birth. Would she be calm and focused or would the pain be more than she could take? Could I watch my daughter be in pain? Would she compare her experience to T’s? All those things created this magical nerve wracking whirlwind. Halfway there, I remembered her as a baby, our incredible miracle. So much excitement to have a baby. And now, her baby is coming into this world and I know she’ll be having her own hopes and wishes for him. I am positive that she will also be met with the most incredible love ever experienced. How amazing and brief the time between the two happenings.

Mike and I arrive at A and T’s home to find them calm, A leaning on a chair, then moving to the sink, breathing deeply through the pain. I thought she was calm but clearly having contractions. T was getting some things together, and then we learned her folks were due to arrive soon and the details of what was to happen with E, who was still asleep. A looked so great, with her hair in a French braid, she was ready for work but so peaceful. I wanted to touch her, hug her, hold her but she was so calm and in a Zen place, I gently put my arm around her, asked how she was doing. She was good. She was ready to go to the birth center. T’s folks arrived and plans of who was staying, what cars would be driven and the timing got worked out.  Of course, I assumed it was still very early on in her labor, but once we arrived at the birth center and she was checked by the midwife we were all amazed to learn she was indeed 8 cm dilated. I was stunned. Shocked. Transition had happened, it would not be long. A and T would be parents again, my three girls would soon be a family of four.

The time went by quickly as A breathed heavy, moved around, groaned, moved some more, and then the guttural impending baby-sounds started. While I’m sure it wasn’t going by fast enough for her, it flew by for me. I can only remember one time where A struggled and worry was creeping in that he couldn’t fit, questioning would he be born vaginally? She was reminded by Nurse Judy (OMG, where was she when I had kids!?) to stay present, feel what was happening in that very moment and not to worry about later. Know that he will fit, but stay present in this contraction, this breath. Which was beautiful advice. While T’s mom snapped photos and T supported A at every step of the way, I tried to help and do whatever else was needed. Sometimes it was to hand something, sometimes it was only words. All the while I could only think about the fact that at any moment A was going to have this precious child in her arms.

While A was laboring and moving into a new position, E came in the room. I think it was a big surprise to us all. For A, the contraction and the sight of E was a lot. (It felt that way to me.) I instantly smiled at E and greeted her while sharing that the baby was going to come soon, but that her mama was okay. Keeping her calm was important but it was all completely true, and not long after E was back in the waiting room with her poppa, grandpa, and uncle. She seemed very satisfied. Along with T, A loves her more than anything in this world and that was one area of concern; if E would be scared to see her mama in pain; mama is the best calmer so, how would that go?? But, crisis averted, E just wanted to say Hi and then retreat back to being the center of attention to three men who adore her.

A tried the next position and another. In hindsight, I think it was getting to be push time, but, well, who knew? A special chair or birthing stool was offered and A sat right down in agreement. The midwife could feel the baby’s head and in what seemed like 3 seconds, he was born. I was shocked, there he was being caught and then his mama holding him. It was wonderful, he made it into this world, now at last on the outside of A. It was glorious, magnificent, and life-altering. A, my precious sweet girl, gave birth to her precious sweet boy.

This kind of laboring and birth was so new to me that at times I felt like I was literally hanging on, trying not to have worrisome thoughts, trying to be present, appreciate every moment. Like right after he was born, I felt this panic, how do we get her and him to the bed. There was blood everywhere in this small space, she’ll slide and fall. Heck, we’ll all slide and fall. We worked like busy bees around her and then she stood, took some guided steps backward and was sitting and then lying in bed with her boy. Just like every other concern, it disappeared into thin air and what was to be, was.

The midwife asked who was going to cut the cord, and I don’t think this had been decided. But as soon as I heard the words I wanted the honor. When I was asked, I happily agreed and it was C’s gran who cut his cord. Woohoo! I felt so proud, thrilled and loved to be able to help in this way. His long beautiful little body rested on A while they were both cleaned up. I leaned over and looked at his little face thinking, I love you, my sweetheart, I’m so thankful you are here. This is going to be some spectacular life. I could have just stared at him for hours. A even had to remind me that T hadn’t seen his face yet. We all balanced moments between marvel and helping clean/wipe/warm A and our new boy. The amount of blood was getting to me and the worry creeping in, but after a bit of air and talking to Judy (the most awesome nurse) I was back to my faith place; it would all be okay, A was fine.

When E came in the room, I watched this beautiful little girl take it all in; her brother, her mama, her mom, her grandma, me and the nurses/midwife. She was quiet but eager to see her new brother. Watching that moment was incredible; two miracles in this world meeting for the first time. I remembered A meeting her brother, Hayden; it was the same. That’s when my thoughts shifted from A to C and witnessing the beginning of these two siblings life together. It is one of the great blessings of my life. Tears welled out of pure joy. My daughter had a baby and now E has a baby brother. What started out as the day A gave birth grew into watching my grandchildren bonding. Maybe he didn’t have his name, C A M D E N, by that point, but his presence, his life was felt by his mothers, grandparents, uncle, and most especially his sister.