As crazy as
the past four months were, I really have been looking forward to sharing our
birth story. So, I am skipping the
exhaustion of a summer pregnancy, the intensity of Josh studying for the Bar,
the depression that crept in with being miserable during pregnancy, &
feeling more distant from God than ever.
The light at the end of the tunnel is glowing, radiating, overwhelming
that darkness—that light is curled up next to me right now, spitting up in his
sleep, & making weird goat noises. The story of my son, the glory of his
birth, far outweighs the darkness that seemed so haunting. We are so blessed, lifting up praises,
& in awe of God’s greatness.
The day our world lit up:
Our due date
for “Baby T’ was August 16. We only waited an extra five days before our gift entered
the world—and those days seemed like years! On Monday, August 20 around 3 P.M. labor began. And, I kinda accidentally kick-started
my labor. Our amazing
midwife, Joyce Nelson, had come over early that morning to ‘strip the membrane’
(a lot scarier than it sounds. google it.). She left behind a bottle of magic potion called
“start-up.” This is an herbal
remedy used to induce labor when you go past your due date. One is to be supervised by a midwife,
doctor, nurse, etc. when using it.
So, sweet Joyce leaves this bottle on my countertop, gives instructions
on how we are going to wait until SATURDAY before beginning that process, if
need be. Hours after she leaves,
my pregnant, desperate brain totally forgets her instructions… I begin reading
the instructions written out on the bottle, and taking ½ a teaspoon every 30
minutes. Honest engine—I did NOT
mean to disregard my midwife’s instruction! To this day, I have no idea how I
could go outside of her wisdom so confidently, like I really knew what I was
doing! Crazy. So, around 3 P.M. light contractions
began.
Our friend Sherene stopped in
and we all went for a walk, stopping every now and then for these little
contractions to do their thing.
They were irregular and not intense. Josh and I
went to the grocery store, having to pause every 7-10 minutes
so he could brace me as a contraction would come & go.
I think it was around 7 that the contractions begin kicking
in regularly, 5 minutes apart. At
this point I was still sipping on this herbal remedy. I took time to read that magic potion bottle again and
learned I had quadrupled the amount I was supposed to be taking! Again, crazy! Who did I think I was? Going outside of what my
midwife instructed, and upping the dosage?! So, I called Joyce to let her know what I had done… I was
expecting an upset midwife; however, she was very calm and poured grace over my
lack of thinking. She then
instructed me to drink a glass of wine, take a long bath, try to relax &
get the contractions to stop.
Laboring through the night is hard on everyone involved, so she wanted
to push it to the next morning. (A
tad too late for this notion.) In
my mind I was thinking she was crazy thinking that these contractions, which
had reached a new level of intensity could be stopped! I took to heart what Joyce had asked,
and tried to relax. Around 10 I
climbed in bed, not confident I could sleep through this. I woke up at 11 with a very sudden need
to use the bathroom. Cue water
breaking.
From here on out my contractions were two minutes apart,
& incredibly powerful. With
each contraction, I was throwing up, & wishing for an epidural. My sweet
husband was running all over the place in those minutes in-between. Making phone calls, keeping track of
the contractions, washing out my throw up bowl, and then on the floor with me
during the actual contraction for hip compressions to relieve the pain. He was a superhero—all over the place,
saving my world, & all the while, it seemed like he never even left my side
to tend to all those other tasks.
Throughout
labor I have some memories that are so vivid to me. Right after the water breaking, I stood in our shower to
wash off, and just listen to the water falling. I remember feeling animalistic at this stage, pacing back
& forth in our shower between contractions, & being extremely mad at
the amount of pain this was causing.
Other women had told me about the pain they experienced, & it is
just something you cannot put in to words. One will never understand the fierceness of a contraction
until you are in that moment yourself.
And after all is said & done, one joins that elite club of women who
have birthed; and you all relate on this new level of having made it through
the beautiful battle of birth.
Around
midnight my Mom arrived, & I immediately informed her I wanted to go to a
hospital, & wanted an epidural.
(I will NEVER again judge a woman for getting an epidural. You do what YOU need to do. It is YOUR
choice, your story. And it’s beautiful.) From the moment my Mom arrived, to the moments before our
son was born, there was this plea in her eyes… A plea to make the pain stop,
for the baby to hurry & arrive, a desire to comfort me. All of this was out of her control. She could not make the pain stop or
lessen, had no control over Baby T arriving any sooner, & could not comfort
me. As much as I wanted her to
then, I am so glad she was unable.
I needed every bit of the pain to be able to embrace the push. I needed her to be unable to confirm in
myself how truly able I really am.
And, that’s life,
right? To believe in yourself is
so powerful. My Mom’s presence
meant everything to me. When I had
the energy to look at her, I knew exactly what her eyes were saying, & that
was enough.
From midnight
on, the time frame is very fuzzy to me.
I know Joyce arrived around midnight, Margie (practically our doula,
training to be a midwife, and birthing class teacher), and then my
sister-in-law Maggie. Every woman
in that room had experienced natural childbirth. Because I knew this, I trusted in their encouragement. I knew they too had felt the pain I was
feeling & made it out alive.
The following five hours were spent taking on each
contraction, still coming at two minutes apart, and still throwing up with each
one (or, dry heaving at this point, as everything had already come up.). Joyce
kept trying to get me to change positions, and I remember thinking that was
asking me to do the impossible. I
felt paralyzed by the pain & too exhausted to even talk. Every now and then Josh or Maggie tried
to give me a spoonful of honey for energy. Every time it felt like they were asking me to eat a huge
steak!
Every voice in
that room, every pat on the leg, hand squeeze, sip of apple juice, and spoonful
of honey was my fuel—mostly those words of encouragement. Even in the silence, I could feel every
person in that room believing in me.
I have never experienced anything like this. There came a time when I
knew going to the hospital really was no longer an option. Seeing as how I could barely move from
the floor up to the bed, there was no way I could transport anywhere outside
this house! Those last eight
hours, I had to really reach within myself, and escape myself at the same time. Find my strength to do what my body was
made to do, & trust in that.
Escape the lies, doubts, and the intense pain that, if I let it, would
own me. Each contraction was it’s
own story, lasting 45 seconds and then beginning a new one just two minutes
later. They each hurt so much,
& got me so much closer to holding my sweet baby. Every second of that pain is forever worth the joy of my
child. Every second of the pain
was redefining me.
Around 5:15 A.M. Joyce was snoring, Josh was in and out of
sleep, Margie was also napping, and my Mom & Maggie stayed awake,
whispering encouragement. Around
this time, I remember feeling like I needed to start pushing. Too afraid that Joyce would tell me get
into a new position, I kept this to myself, & quietly pushed through a
couple of contractions. I do not
remember who noticed that I was pushing (Maggie?) but that is when we were
finally on the last stretch! Everyone woke up and readily began encouraging, aiding me, & awaiting the arrival.
Joyce called Robin, another midwife, to come over for this
last part. I remember the
contractions gaining intensity, but the intensity of these last three hours
is..... indescribable. I believe
it was Robin who told me that now was my time to give back to the contractions
what they had been giving to me.
Best advice when pushing! I
got to dominate them, as they had been (seemingly) dominating me.
After, I think, two hours of pushing, Robin engineered a
brilliant device to help with this stage.
Basically, a tug of war contraption. I held one end, and she held the other. With each
contraction we pulled against one another to help me focus on where to push,
without using my legs. Robin &
Maggie both played this “game” with me, eventually leading to our baby’s
arrival.
Josh was right by my side the entire time—from the very
beginning, last November, until the time he caught our babe entering the world. He never once doubted my ability, &
for this faith, our marriage has touched something so special, which is
unshakeable.
We had decided to not find out the gender, so seeing that
our baby was a sweet little boy was a moment I will never forget. The umbilical cord was wrapped around
his neck three time, and he came out sideways with his hand up by his
face. All factors that contributed
to a longer, harder labor.
Since we did not find out the gender, I always thought I
would be ecstatic to find out! After
16 hours of labor, all I wanted was that baby in my arms- boy, girl, I just
wanted my baby. Joyce was holding
babe up, unwrapping the umbilical cord, and even though this was just a few
seconds, it seemed like long minutes... The picture of him being held up in
front of me is one forever instilled in my heart. My baby boy.
Our Asher had finally arrived.
The name Asher means “happy blessing.” He is, indeed, our gift.
I remember my hands being so worn out from ‘tug of war’ that
I felt like I couldn’t hold him. Margie was on one side helping, and Josh on
the other. My hands were numb from
the ‘tug of war’ that holding him took a lot of effort—I was beyond relieved
and overjoyed to finally be holding him, and so exhausted. There is no sweeter moment. Victory.
Every person in that room fought in this beautiful battle of
birth with me. They were prayer
warriors and the voices of angels.
Maggie’s voice especially echoed in my heart throughout all those
hours—she would talk with extreme gentleness and fierceness at the same time. I feel like we sealed our
sisterhood in those 16 hours. It was encouragement straight from the heart of
Jesus.
Margie went above and
beyond. She did for me things I
will not repeat to the entire world—just know, she fearlessly stood (and sat)
next to me this entire time.
Robin
was also a voice of fierceness.
She would tell me I absolutely could when I worked up energy to say, “I
cannot.”
And, Joyce… my goodness,
this woman made all the difference.
I had been nervous about her being our midwife because she is so blunt,
and I am so sensitive. The more I
got to know her heart, her story, the more in love with her I became. Like Josh, she began this journey with
me last November—calling outside of appointments to talk and ask how I was
doing; coming over the days before labor & sitting with me in my room,
sharing her story & crying with me as we related so much. Her vulnerability, empathy, courage,
and bluntness pieces together making a mighty woman, whom I greatly
admire. There are not enough words
in the world to say how grateful I am for her.
My mother being there meant everything to me. She was definitely not on board with
this whole home birthing thing, and she was here, supporting every minute of
it. She held my hand for hours on
end, rubbed my back, put a heating pad on my feet, & worried like a Momma
does…. and with that worry, she prayed.
Every time our eyes met, I could feel the intensity of her prayers—I
could feel the intensity of love she has for me. She was our prayer warrior, and has been for years. Not to
mention, she stayed for days taking care of us… taking care of me. Cleaning our house, making me meals,
helping me bathe, changing and holding Asher. I could not have done this without her.
My husband. My sweet husband was with me like no other. From the first second of labor, until
8:24 A.M. he stood alongside me, being my greatest believer. Our love dove into much greater depths
during the labor of our son. That
labor started last November. My
pregnancy, in a lot of ways, was so much more challenging than the birth. And, he was there. I am so grateful, so in awe of his
strength. He has my heart and is
taking beautiful care of it. He
proudly tried to help Asher latch on for his first feeding—another one of those
vivid moments, seared into my heart.
Joshua, we did it. I am
beyond honored to be parenting this sweet blessing with you.
God's Spirit and his angels were, undoubtedly, with us in our house. I felt them and saw them. As distant as God has felt over the months, He is the reason. He receives full credit for the beautiful work of art our son is. When I hold my baby close enough, I smell God's scent lingering on him. His fingerprints cover Asher. Asher's name is written on his hand. My heart shouts praises to the King of Kings for this life he has created, and recreated in me through this process. God is so good.
Today I have an almost one month old who has made me
“Mom.” I am honored, grateful,
blessed, astonished, joyful, & sometimes very sleepy. J He is the sweetest little
thing I have ever held.
I am a very
wordy person, not good at summarizing… So, as for every word of this lengthy
birth story, just know that there are thousands of beautiful parts I am leaving
out, as this is my attempt at condensing the most amazing event of my life. My proudest moment, indeed.
Asher Bryant Tilford. 7 pounds, 7 ounces. 21 inches…. My
purest joy.
