Isaiah's Birth Story

Describing the most emotional, intense, and special events of one's life is a daunting task.  Hence, I'm a little overwhelmed at the thought of writing Isaiah's birth story. I want to get it "just right," to capture every detail so that I will never forget, and to convey to Isaiah how loved he was from the very start.  I'm not quite sure how to do all of those things with mere words, nor do I know the best way to start, so I guess I will just start writing from my heart and let the story unfold as it wills...

The days prior to my delivery felt emotionally charged with anticipation.  I was in my 38th week, the week most of our other boys were born.  Would it happen this week, or would God's sense of humor shine and have me go overdue this time around?  Each morning I would wonder, "is this the big day?"  Even my children could sense this, and the three older boys took wagers to see which one of them would be closest to guessing Isaiah's actual birth date (Dominic turned out to be the proud "1 Dollar Winner" by guessing April 28th--just 2 days off!).  Therefore, after waiting for 9 months to meet my constant companion in the womb, it seemed a little surreal when labor actually began...

It began at midnight on April 26th, with a full moon shining in the sky (hmmm, I wonder if that had anything to do with it?).  Like almost every night for the past few months, I woke up needing to pee, accompanied by a light Braxton Hicks contraction (those two things tend to go hand-in-hand with me).  I figured the contraction would go away once I went to the bathroom and came back to bed, which was normally the case.  This time, however, I got back into bed and another contraction started immediately, then another 3 minutes later, then another 3 minutes later again.  I laid there in disbelief, and honestly, a little bit of grief because I vividly recalled how tiring it was to labor all night long with the births of Michael and Dominic.   I woke up Paul and desperately tried everything I could think of to stop the contractions---I drank some water, I took a warm shower, I prayed without ceasing.  Nothing worked, so we began it get ready to head to the hospital.  Paul called our friends Mike and Margaret to come over, and we were out the door by 1:30am.  I asked Paul to pray the Chaplet of Divine Mercy while we drove to help me relax and focus on uniting my suffering with Christ's.  It was amazing how comparing my suffering with Christ's helped my pain feel more bearable and transformed it into something almost beautiful. 

When we arrived at the hospital, the nurse checked me and found that I was dilated to 5cm already.  Indeed, this was the real deal.  I wanted to immediately sit in the nice, warm jacuzzi, knowing that it would help me to relax and tolerate the pain better, but unfortunately I had to wait for the nurse to put in an IV and for the lab to come up and draw blood to check my platelet count (all of which seemed to take eternity).  Eventually, all of that was done and the nurse checked me one more time before I headed for the tub.  I was at 7cm dilation.  For the next hour I soaked and focused on offering up each contraction for a specific intention.  For example, one intention that was very present on my heart was the conversion of abortion-minded mothers and Planned Parenthood employees, because it just so happened to be Friday, which is the day abortions are performed in my town.  I also brought a list of prayer intentions so that I wouldn't forget to pray for the people and requests closest to my heart, because I knew I would probably get too distracted by my pain to think of all of them during labor. It was Paul's job to read the next intention on the list as another contraction was about to begin.  Paul was a constant, calming presence---the best doula I could ask for!  Within an hour, I was already feeling the urge to push, so the nurse asked me to come out of the jacuzzi to check my progression.  I almost cried for joy when she said I was at a 10!!!  I was so proud of myself for making it to a 10 without an epidural this time, and so happy that God gave me the grace to suffer with His Son, to console His heart, and hopefully to help those who were on my prayer intention list.  What I didn't realize was that my suffering, consoling, and helping others through "offering it up" was not yet finished.  I still needed to push. Time to pick up my cross again...and this time it seemed a lot heavier. 

I tried to regain my focus and offer up each contraction and pushing repetition for one of my special intentions again, but it was much more difficult.  Being out of the peaceful waters of the jacuzzi made the contractions feel much more painful.  Some of my peace apparently disappeared down the drain of the jacuzzi.  So instead of making peaceful prayer requests during the remaining contractions, all I could do was make short cries of love in my heart:  "Jesus, I love you!"  or "For You, Jesus!" or "Please help me, Jesus!"  After an hour of pushing during each contraction, baby Isaiah still was not in my arms and I began to worry, overheat, and feel beyond tired.  Paul and my sweet nurse Kaleigh kept fanning me, placing a cold wash rag on my head, and encouraging me with praise-filled words, but I wasn't feeling very praiseworthy anymore.  Dr. Hay was the OB on call that night (I was sad my female OB, Dr. Huntley, would not be there to deliver...just one more thing for me to offer up, I guess), and he suggested that breaking my bag of waters might help.  I desperately wanted to hold Isaiah by this point, so I agreed.  The pain became even more intense after that, and I worried that I wouldn't be strong enough to push Isaiah out because I was so exhausted.  After another half an hour of pushing, I begged the Blessed Virgin Mary to help me, and the moment I made that plea from one suffering mother to another, Isaiah's head finally pushed through!  I will never forget how Mary interceded for me at that moment.  Tears of thankfulness stream down as I type this...

The other tremendously beautiful moment that I want to remember is how Dr. Hay told my husband to "roll up his sleeves" just a few minutes before Isaiah was born and handed Paul a pair of rubber gloves.  No other conversation took place between the two of them.  Dr. Hay did not ask Paul if he wanted to help deliver Isaiah or cut the cord or just be a bystander.  Dr. Hay, as a dad himself, knew that Paul would treasure the memory of delivering his own son into the world, so he didn't give Paul any other option.  How beautiful to watch my husband be the first one to hold baby Isaiah and to give him his first independent "breath" as he cut the cord and then handed Isaiah to my waiting arms.  I wish I had a picture of Paul's moment of pure daddy pride, but thankfully I believe the image is forever imprinted on my heart.

After Paul placed Isaiah in my arms, all I could do was marvel and stare and thank God.  Isaiah was so alert and content.  He looked like a perfect combination of all his brothers and his daddy, but with my reddish, peach-fuzz hair.  I loved the feel of his soft baby skin against mine, and I was so thankful for the hospital's policy of letting me nurse and hold him to my heart's content.  Content it was indeed.  I remember being surprised at how quickly my body went from feeling the most pain it has ever known to perfect peace and contentment.  I had fallen in love again, and I guess love has a way of healing all pain.

Isaiah's official moment of birth was 5:40am---slightly less than six hours from my first contraction at home.  Six of the hardest and holiest hours of my life.  The entire experience was painful but perfect.  I really believe God gave me the desire to have a natural childbirth this time to teach me the fruitfulness of suffering.  Pain can have purpose if we give it to Jesus.  I am so grateful God gave gave me the grace needed to accomplish His will of a natural childbirth for Isaiah, but I honesty don't look forward to going through that kind of pain again anytime soon--if ever--even though it was SO worth it! :) 

And just in case my words don't tell the story well enough, here are some pictures worth a thousand more words...

Mother's 1st embrace...Love at 1st sight

Maria with Dr. Hay and kind nurse Kaleigh

Mommy and Isaiah--together at last!

Paul with his 5th born son--one very blessed daddy

Joseph meets his new brother

Michael meets his new brother

Dominic meets his new brother

Boy oh boy, look at all those boys!

The happy new parents ready to take Isaiah home from the hospital

Isaiah Jesse--one day old
Isaiah means "God is my Salvation"
Jesse means "Gift"
During labor I prayed many times that he and his brothers would receive the gift of God's salvation.
In the end, that's all that really matters.