Elizabeth’s story is also available on her blog at: https://mommymissionaryinmanila.wordpress.com/2018/08/31/nathalies-birth-story/#more-40

The birth story of Nathalie begins when I was 36 weeks pregnant with her. I thought for sure she would come then. Like, for sure. I even started telling people, “oh yes, I can tell, this one isn’t going to make us wait!” Silly me. Silly, silly me. Each day felt like I was in labor, so it was an understandable assumption after all. I walked around all day with “fake” contraction, feeling like the baby was going to just slip out through my legs. Although technically I didn’t know “she” was a she because we chose to wait until deliver to find out the gender! But with each week that passed, and no early baby, I got more and more sad. On top of it, I had quite a lot of friends with similar due dates, and so I got to watch all of them joyously deliver while I stayed quite large and pregnant.

Then finally, the day came. I woke up around 5am with a strong contraction! Woo! Although, they were fairly infrequent, so I decided to go about packing the kids’ lunches for after church, and got myself and the kids ready to go. On the way to church things picked up, and I was no longer able to fathom being around people, so instead of going into church I sat in the parking lot letting waves of contractions come. Honestly, I should have headed home, but being at church put us fairly close to the hospital, and to go home meant driving far away from the hospital. So, I decided to labor in the car. It was raining, so I couldn’t walk around. Terrible. We finally decided to get admitted to the hospital, and so on we drove. Thankfully Richie had a back-up preacher prepared for that Sunday!!

Let’s not go into length about the worst check in procedure I’ve ever been apart of, for fear I may sin. I won’t mention the chatty nurses catching up on gossip, a trainee taking forever to type in my information, them looking pitifully at me during each contraction, or their scoffing at me choosing to do labor without meds. All that to say, in my angst with them, my labor slowed down. And I got the worst news that, because of the slow down, they weren’t going to admit me. So after 3+ hours waiting in triage, I was sent packing. I mustered up some encouragement knowing Richie and I would have an impromptu dinner date while waiting for labor to pick up. But as I came out of the bathroom from changing back into my street clothes, a ginormous contraction hit! It hit so hard that I fell to my knees. Richie and I knew they needed to clean the room for the next woman to come in, but we decided to wait to see if this was the real deal. Sure enough 3 minutes later another ginormous contraction hit and it took my breath away. I was so happy! It was time! I was ready.

The midwife rushed back, witnessed a contraction, and took us immediately to a labor and delivery room. I changed, they hooked me up to monitors, I labored, I removed the monitors. (Those things really are the worst). As my labor progressed it became one of my favorite experiences. The room was quite (no one there except Richie and I, and occasionally the nurse), I labored how I wanted, the contractions came quickly and moved things along. When things really intensified I went to the bathroom to labor on the toilet (best position to labor, trust me). These contractions hurt and it took all of my mental energy to not freak out, and to stay steady. Richie was the best labor coach anyone could have hoped for. The midwife came in and began to coach me through each contraction. To my shock, she even got a stool to sit on! When I asked her what that was for, she said, “for me to sit while I deliver your baby!” I was shocked! I didn’t realize how close to delivery I was, or that she was allowing me to deliver in the bathroom! (From the time the first real active labor kicked in till delivery was only 1.5 hours!)

This hope of things ending soon gave me strength to finish. My water finally broke and exploded all over the bathroom. She saw the baby’s head, I was brave enough to reach down and feel the head. She helped postpone the delivery of the head to prevent me from tearing (worst. experience. ever. trying. to. keep. a. baby. inside). Then when everything was ready the head came out! The midwife saw that the umbilical cord was wrapped tightly around the neck, so she looked me in the eyes and said, “Elizabeth, look at me. Forget about pushing slowly, get this baby out NOW!” There was a moment of fear, then obedience followed. I pushed with all of my might and pushed and pushed and pushed and shot that baby out!! The midwife then took a tiny ball of a baby, wrapped up in the umbilical cord, and flipped her a dozen times trying to untangle her. Then she put the baby on my chest, and then let me look down to determine, “she’s a girl!!” I couldn’t believe it. This beautiful baby looking up at me. She wasn’t crying, just staring. (She was still getting oxygen through the cord so the midwife let her start breathing in her own time.) Then finally she coughed, cried, and continued to cuddle with me. Nursing was beautiful. Everything was beautiful.

After a few minutes, the midwife had me walk over to the bed (I could do that because I didn’t tear this time! Woo!!) I laid there and both Richie and I basked in the glory and emotional high of a delivery. The first two kids didn’t have this euphoric peace after delivery. This time was special, and it was healing. It was dark, and quiet, and just the three of us. We cried and prayed and couldn’t believe we had another baby to love, and a girl at that! We started to dream up names and plan for the future. It was one of my most favorite times in my life.

I’m so grateful for that awesome midwife, who trusted me and coached me. I’m so grateful for Richie who is the best labor partner I could have asked for, and the most stylish too! He helped deliver Nathalie in his suit! But mostly I’m grateful to God for being entrusted to care for another little human.