Phillip

It's hard to believe that it has been three months since this little guy entered our lives. On one hand, his birth and first few days feel like yesterday. On the other hand, it feels like he has been a part of our lives forever and it seems hard to remember life without him.

From early on, I had two separate due dates for Phillip. There was the one by my own calculations, and another from the only ultrasound that we had during my pregnancy. The doctor warned that it might be earlier just because it was a bigger baby (and this was around 12 weeks). It was only by a few days, but I chose to hang on to the earlier due date for my own sanity near the end and I had a midwife recommend that I use that one in case this baby wanted to be an early arrival like my first son.

But he was not an early arrival, and I never knew how much longer an extra month could be until that last month rolled around.

And I never knew how long a few days could be until the first due date came and went.

The day of my second due date drew to a close and I couldn't help but feel down that there was still no baby, so I decided to pamper myself instead. I quickly cleaned the house and drew a bath after Ben went to bed.

I hope I never forget watching my belly as I laid there, with the squirms, kicks, hiccups and life.

When I stepped out of the bath I immediately noticed a warm trickle, but I couldn't tell whether it was the bath or my water breaking. My water didn't break until the very end after an epidural with the last one, so I had no idea what it would feel like. At that moment, my husband called me and I started getting dressed as I talked to him. That's when I knew something was different because there was still a trickle.

"So, um, I think my water broke," I told him, but I encouraged him to stay at work because labor hadn't started. He was only going to have a couple days off when the baby was born and I didn't want to waste one with us both waiting for labor if this baby decided to take his time.

Next, I texted my doctor and midwife and they told me to get some sleep in anticipation for labor.

Right.

I started getting things ready just in case, but about an hour later (around 1 am), the contractions started. I had my husband come home and called my mom to pick up Ben.

I packed a suitcase for Ben, remade our bed and held my son one last time, knowing it would be the last time he would be my only baby.

Once Ben was off and everything set up, I sat down with Brandon to watch some TV. With Ben, I spent about half the day napping and watching TV before the contractions became too serious, so I was looking forward to a little time of rest before getting down to business.

But this baby was no Ben.

About 10 minutes into the show, I had to turn it off. My husband turned off all the lights and I could feel my body start to get to some serious work.

About 30 minutes later, I felt like I could not go on. Thankfully, my husband and I studied the Bradley Method and I knew that meant things were going to happen fast. I told Brandon to call the doctor because I was in transition.

It was an incredibly intense, but peaceful time. I worked hard to get out of the way of my body and fight every impulse to tense against my labor. I couldn't think ahead, about the baby, or anything else for that matter. I just laid there, with my eyes closed and concentrated. I immediately fell asleep between contractions and was able to get a little rest.

Brandon was absolutely incredible. He was supportive in helping me relax and sat there quietly when I drifted off between contractions. The doctor and midwife encouraged him to get me moving, but he knew me well enough to know that just because I was still and resting did not mean that I wasn't working hard with the contractions.

There was one point where mentally I started to break down and wonder if I could handle it. I refused to look at the clock because I knew 1) Labor does not work based on time. Each stage will come when it comes regardless of how long I have been in labor, and 2) I would be too disheartened if I saw that it had only been an hour or so. I overheard Brandon telling our doctor that my contractions were 2-3 minutes apart and lasting 60-90 seconds. Immediately I felt relief because I knew that the end was coming soon and that my contractions were being incredibly effective.

The urge to push came on very slowly and that was when I felt my greatest sense of doubt. I had been up all night with hard labor and I wasn't sure that I could handle pushing out this baby. I was being stubborn and resisting any direction because I wasn't sure I could move.

After a while, though, I knew that I had no choice. I had to lean in and push through the fear and pain. There was no other way. I could either work hard and get through, or exhaust myself with fighting the inevitable. I finally took direction and started to get to work.

The doctor and midwife were so encouraging and helpful. I just remember saying over and over again that this was too hard, and their reassurance that, yes, this is hard, but you can do it. It was amazing how helpful it was to feel validated and how much it helped mentally.

Then, finally, he was here.

Brandon caught the baby and then placed that wiggling, crying creature beneath me so that I could see his beautiful face too.

We didn't know the gender the whole pregnancy  (since we only had that one ultrasound) and I didn't hear Brandon say it was a boy, but I stared at him for a full minute before finally asking the gender.

It was a feeling unlike any other. I felt wonderfully empty and light, and like I could take on the world.

It was around that time that I finally bothered to take a look at the time. It was then I realized it was only 5:00. In about 4 hours I went through a transformative experience and my life had completely changed.

At the end of my pregnancy, my doctor and midwife had predicted the baby would be around 7- 7.5 pound, but when he was coming out they had told me he was bigger. The midwife predicted he would be 8.5, which was about what I weighed at birth. Finally, when it came time to weigh him, they were absolutely shocked. He was whopping 9 pounds and 13 ounces. The year before and throughout my pregnancy, I had followed the Weston A. Price diet and I had read that it had a tendency to make babies weigh more than they looked because it helped them build muscle and bone. No one in our family weighed anything like that at birth. It felt reassuring that all the hard work that went into our diet had produced such robust baby!

Phillip's birth was a cathartic experience for me. After Ben's birth, I felt as though something had been robbed from me. I was thankful that I had such a beautiful and healthy boy that I loved so dearly, but I couldn't help but feel disappointed with his birth experience. It was healing to  finally have a labor that was supported, peaceful and calm, where I felt that I was in charged and that I could trust my body. I came out of that experience a much stronger and more confident woman.

Welcome to our little family, Phillip. We have been waiting and praying for you. We love you more than you will ever know.