Pregnancy Loss Resource: Grieving Together

Hello dear readers! It's been a while since I published a post and even longer since I posted regularly, but since this blog does get regular hits from women (and probably men) looking for miscarriage resources and support and companionship, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to share - and giveaway! - an incredible new miscarriage resource. I received a free copy of the book to review, but my admiration is 100% authentic.

In the five years since my first miscarriage, I've often thought of the books I wish had been written about miscarriage. I've really yearned for miscarriage books specifically from the Catholic perspective and there aren't many out there. I've wished for books about pregnancy after loss, ones specifically about recurrent miscarriage, and books that connected the Saints and their wisdom to pregnancy loss. However, one of the books I never thought about that (I didn't realize) I needed was one written by a married couple: Grieving Together: A Couple's Journey through Miscarriage.

Perhaps the most unique aspect of this book is not that it discusses marriage (though that too is novel), but that it includes a male author, a father's voice. Men are usually completely left out of the topic of miscarriage all together, something I quickly realized after my first loss. Written by Laura Kelly Fanucci and Franco David Fanucci, a couple who experienced infertility, miscarriage, and infant death together, Grieving Together finally addresses this deficit (and so much more).

One of the things I appreciate most about this book is that, though less than 200 pages, it covers a wide range of aspects of miscarriage, including not only grieving as a couple, but also the answers to many of the practical and spiritual questions about loss, for example: What is physical recovery like? What can you do to support a friend who lost a baby? Are miscarried babies in heaven? And it also has an excellent section on pregnancy after loss, satisfying my desire for a book on that topic.

I can't recommend this book enough for any Catholic couple who has lost a baby to miscarriage (and much of the book is relevant to any Christian couple). I could go on and on about the merits of this book, but I'll just leave you with this final praise, the email message I sent to author Laura Fanucci while reading my copy: "Laura, thank you so much for this book. It’s been almost 4 years and two healthy pregnancies and babies since my last (my fourth) miscarriage but for some reason the past month has been really hard. This been has helped heal some of the hurt I didn’t realize was still there. On two occasions, I’ve also come to bed to see my husband had snagged my copy off my nightstand and was reading it."

Grieving Together was released earlier this month and is available from Our Sunday Visitor and Amazon. You can also read more from Laura Fanucci at her lovely blog, Mothering Spirit. Excerpts of the book have also been turned into a free e-book, "How To Support Parents Who Have Lost a Child", a wonderful resource in itself.

If you would like to win this book for yourself or to give to a friend who has experienced miscarriage, please comment below with why you would want to win this book/what you are most interested in reading about in it. Please make sure to include an email address so I can contact you if you win. A winner will be randomly chosen on Dec. 6 (the Feast of St. Nicholas) so I can ship it to you in time for Christmas, since the holidays can be a particularly difficult time after losing a baby (even years later, Christmas is difficult for me without all my children here). God bless you and good luck!

Cecilia's Birth Story

I haven't written in almost 11 months since I announced the birth of my sweet baby girl. Well, she's quickly coming up on her first birthday so I thought I should probably finally post her birth story which I wrote MONTHS ago but had been waiting to fact check with David. Well, here it is! I may start writing again a bit more (like, maybe once every few months, don't expect much) now that my baby is a bit older and our foster son has left (guess I never shared that whole story...we had a sweet 1 year old foster son with us for a few months). But no promises.
__________

On Saturday, August 12, I was four days past my due date. Since my first two babies had been born eight and ten days past their due dates, I was hopeful that maybe I would go into labor that day but not particularly expectant. My parents came in the morning to pick up Lucia and Davey for a day at the zoo so David and I decided to make the best of our day without kids. We leisurely got ready, then headed to Longmont to go to my favorite thrift store.

After browsing around for a while, we headed to a nice restaurant for lunch where I got a very spicy meal and then we had chocolate fondue for dessert. The place wasn’t busy so the (male) bartender came over to chat with us and mentioned it looked like I was past my due date. I was impressed by his insightful comment, since I’ve never been able to tell the difference in pregnant women close to going into labor, but also encouraged by it because it was similar to comments made by my midwife and her assistant a few days before. She thought I would have the baby by the end of the weekend. The lunch was a perfect date for the two of us, a little last alone time before the new baby.

We headed home after our meal and took a nap, truly soaking in our day alone. When we woke up, I remember commenting how it would be the perfect day to go into labor since I was well fed and well rested.

My parents brought the kids home around 5:00 and I took them to the backyard to play while I cleaned out the chicken coop and pulled weeds in the garden. While I was out there I started to feel a little “off”. No real contractions, but maybe a slight bit of cramping in my lower abdomen. I told David that something might be happening, but continued in the garden until I started feeling actual contractions right around 6:00. They were really light but I decided that since I hadn’t really had any Braxton Hicks this pregnancy this was probably the beginning of labor.

I called my parents right away to tell them to pick up the kids. Since my labor with Davey was less than an hour, I didn’t want to wait even though I expected it to be longer this time. My one real anxiety about this labor was not whether the midwife would arrive in time (that was David’s main concern) but whether my parents would pick up my kids in time because I really worried about them being there. Lucia is a very sensitive little girl who cries anytime I am hurt or upset, and I didn’t want to be distracted by trying to comfort her or feeling like I had to hide my discomfort. My mom arrived shortly afterward for the kids, commenting that as anxious as she had been all week for me to go into labor, this was the one day she would have been ok waiting because she and my dad were so tired from the zoo that day.

While we were waiting for my mom to come, I sent a text to my midwife Lynnette to let her know that I was having mild contractions and most likely in early labor. She immediately asked if we wanted her to come right away, knowing how quick the last labor was and how nervous we were about the quick timing, but I told her we would time the contractions first and let her know. David downloaded a contraction timing app on his phone and after a few contractions noted that they were about 4 minutes apart but still very mild in strength. After the kids left, I sat down and my contractions spaced out considerably, about 12 minutes apart. When I got back up and was walking around, preparing our bed for the birth, getting towels ready, etc., they went back to four minutes apart. They were getting slightly stronger so we decided to ask my midwife to come, since she had a 40 minute drive. I sat and knitted most of the time while we waited for her and my contractions again immediately spaced out but then started to get closer together while we waited for her.

When Lynnette and her assistant, Tatia, arrived, we talked for a few minutes and she listened to the baby’s heart. David and I then took a walk to our parish church just down the street from our house in order to keep contractions coming. I had to stop several times on the way there and back during contractions so they were getting stronger, but still not so bad that I couldn’t talk through them. We had hoped to be able to go into the church to pray, but just as we were getting there, people were leaving and the door locked behind them. If we had only gotten there two minutes earlier, we could have walked in as they were leaving. The perpetual adoration chapel which is opened 24/7 was also closed due to repairs, so we settled for visiting the Marian statue out front. I asked David to take my picture there – my last pregnant picture! – and then we walked back home.

We decided to go into the basement to watch an episode of The Amazing Race. David and I love The Amazing Race. It’s our special show together. We didn’t start watching it until a few years ago so for the past year, we have slowly been working through watching all the seasons from the beginning. We usually watch an episode or two a week together at night after the kids go to bed, although we had been watching much more than during the end of my pregnancy, an episode or two almost every night. So it was my first choice of something to do to distract myself while I was able to. We watched a full episode and during that time the contractions got steadily stronger. We started another episode but stopped only about 10 minutes in because the contractions were so strong that I had to stand and hold onto David to get through them. I could no longer concentrate and said that we should go back upstairs because I thought if we waited much longer, I wouldn’t be able to move.

While we were downstairs, Lynnette and Tatia were preparing by getting the supplies ready and then sitting upstairs talking. I appreciated having the option to be alone for a while. When I came upstairs they talked to me briefly about how/what I was feeling and then David and I went into our bedroom alone. I contracted on the bed a while, moaning a bit through the contractions now. At some point, Lynnette realized by my sounds that I was getting close, so they came in. I mostly contracted on my side and then toward the end on my back. I held on tightly to David’s arms and pulled myself into him through contractions while Tatia put pressure on my back.

This went on for a while until I got the urge to push. I was surprised a bit by how painful it all was. A bearable painful, similar to the pain of Lucia’s childbirth that I had mostly forgotten, but a pain that I didn’t really experience during David’s very fleeting labor. I hadn’t intentionally pushed at all with Davey, but I did push several times this time. The bag of waters was intact until the very end, breaking while I was pushing at 10:35. Baby was born at 10:36. It seemed like it took forever to push, but it was only a few minutes. There was a fist by baby’s face which was harder and more painful to push out than just a head alone, but once the arm was out, the rest followed easily. Lynnette caught her and put her on my chest. After the fact, I was a little disappointed David didn’t catch the baby since he had with both Lucia and Davey, but this time I really needed him up with me during those last few pushes.

David and I noticed immediately that this little baby was a girl! Our Cecilia! She was beautiful and looked so much like her sister as a newborn – David commented on that immediately. She cried right away and looked perfect. I just held my baby tight and told her I was her mama and I loved her and I marveled at how tiny and perfect and beautiful she was. My pregnancy has been healthy and happy and generally free from anxiety but there was a moment of relief holding her in my arms, a relief that only comes after having lost a baby.

I held her for a bit in a towel – she wasn’t very bloody but covered in tons of vernix – and then tried to get her to nurse a bit while we were waiting to deliver the placenta, but she wasn’t interested. She cried quite a bit during her first few hours and wouldn’t nurse, which was unusual and concerned me quite a bit and a midwife more than I think she let on, but after several hours, she finally settled and nursed and is as healthy as can be.

It took a bit to deliver my placenta, but it eventually came quicker and easier than in the past. For the
first time, I didn’t tear and need stitches. I actually felt amazingly well right afterward and was delighted to be in my own house able to walk around and take a shower just an hour after birth. My entire recovery was easy and quick. It was in many ways, a very blessed birth and another beautiful step in healing from the continued pain of pregnancy loss.

In the morning, my parents brought the big brother and sister over to meet the new baby. When they arrived they didn't know she had been born but Lucia wanted to bring the card she made for the baby "just in case". Lucia also had told my parents when she woke up that she had a dream that mommy had a baby girl the previous night. It was so sweet introducing the kids and even little Davey seemed to love his baby sister right away.

I didn't pray during Lucia's birth because it was just too all consuming and Davey's had been too fast to think of pretty much anything but I had planned to pray for many intentions during my birth but when the time came, I was in so much pain that I could only focus on one, a couple in our extended family who were longing for a child but having trouble conceiving. I offered up all the pain and doubt and suffering of the birth for them. They are still waiting for a living child, so if you could join me in praying for them, I’d be very grateful.

My Golden Girl

David and I welcomed another sweet little girl to our family on Saturday, August 12 at 10:36 pm. Cecilia Claire was born at home after a 4.5 hour labor. She was our longest, leanest baby at 7 lbs 9 oz and 20.5 inches. She looks almost exactly like her big sister did as a newborn.

Big sister and brother came to meet her the next morning and just adore her. Both Cecilia and I are doing wonderfully and we are all adjusting really well to life as a family of five. Thank you to everyone who has been praying for us.

I plan to write her birth story out in the next few days, but for now I wanted to share a bit about her name. She was named for St. Cecilia and my grandmother, Cecilia, who came from a devout Catholic family and was herself named after the Saint. Both my grandmother and grandfather were very surprised and pleased by her name. They wouldn't stop talking about it, which is actually quite touching because they both have severe dementia and have trouble remembering things from minute to minute. It was so lovely that they remembered her name and were able to talk about it at length.

My grandmother, Cecilia Refugia, with her great granddaughter, Cecilia Claire.

Claire was the middle name we had decided to use had Davey been a girl, but we didn't consider it must this pregnancy until the last week or so. I wasn't particularly sold on any one name, but David like the idea of her initials being CC with Cici being a nickname and her full initials being CCR (like Creedence Clearwater Revival, which I will agree is an awesome band). And, of course, the only reason we considered it at all was because of St. Clare of Assisi (whose feast day was the day BEFORE she was born; I was really hoping she would be born that day as a clear sign she should be Cecilia Claire).

today, 9 days old

Surprised by Peace

I haven't found myself with lots of time to sit and contemplate this pregnancy, but when I have, the word that just seems to encompass it all is peace. That's not to say that this pregnancy has been easy. It's been delightfully without complications, but the first trimester was marked by the worst morning sickness and exhaustion I've experienced and the second trimester has so far been riddled with illness including a horrible bout of the flu. Overall, nothing to truly complain about though in those moments it all seemed dramatically unbearable. Through it all though, there was the underlying peacefulness.

I thought that after my miscarriages, pregnancy would never be joyful again. And so I've been completely blindsided by the joy that has come this time around. I no longer have the same naivety I did during my first pregnancy. I'm much more aware of all the things that can and might go wrong. I don't take for granted that a positive pregnancy test means a living baby nine months down the road. But unlike my last pregnancy, I don't expect something bad to happen. I'm aware it could happen, but I have hope. I cannot begin to describe just how surprising these feelings are: peace, joy, hope.

There is something incredibly redemptive and healing about this pregnancy. The way it has blessed me is truly humbling. I am so undeserving. I know all too well that many women never get to have an experience like this after infertility or loss. Many never get their living child, yet here I am with my daughter, my beautiful toddler son born after loss, and now this new little one to love and cherish. Nothing I've ever done or could ever do would make me deserving of these blessings.

I came up with the term "golden baby" to describe the baby AFTER a rainbow baby in kind of an offhand way. The rainbow comes after the storm. Well, what comes after the rainbow? Oh, a pot of gold. Golden baby. Ok, that sounds nice. I just wanted a term for it because this pregnancy felt special - not like a pregnancy before loss, but also not like a pregnancy right after loss. But the more I think about it, the term just seems right. This baby is someone special, someone set apart. A child who has healed my heart and soul in amazing ways. A child who was never expected and who has crept into our family as a little someone extra, a little added blessing who will bring with him/her beauty and joy I can't even begin to imagine. My little golden baby. My baby.

How could I not already feel ABUNDANTLY blessed with these two?

18 weeks. And suddenly, I can't hide this little blessing from the world anymore.
(But I'm still wearing my regular pants - can't quite figure out quite how that's possible though!)

Golden Baby

The past few months have been a bit of a whirlwind for our family. About 6 weeks ago, the company David worked for went out of business (again - the second time in 6 months with no other companies to buy them out and save them this time). About a week after that, we became certified as foster parents and 8 days after certification, we got the call to take in two sisters, age 2 and 5.

The day after we brought the girls home, David was offered a job with extensive travel (10-15 days per month is what it's looking like). He had two weeks before starting that job in which he was home full time and helping me adjust to caring for four kids and welcoming the girls into our family. During that time, thee four kids and me all got the flu. Thankfully David didn't get it and was able to care for us all, but it was a tough time. I haven't had the flu in probably 15 years so it just seemed like such terrible timing and really made incorporating the girls into our family that much more difficult.

Last week was David's first week on the job and he was gone Monday-Friday. On Wednesday, we learned that the girls would be leaving us on Friday to live with family. It truly seems like they are going to a great situation with loving, stable family, but after only 3 weeks we did get attached and it was hard to say goodbye, and especially for me to get them packed up and to have to deal with the emotional aspect of saying goodbye to them on my own with David still away. The littlest one called me mama as was already so attached to me so saying goodbye to her was particularly rough.

The first chapter of our experience as foster parents is over and we are grateful we were able to help these girls in their time of need. It was all a bit of an unusual case and we thought we would have the girls here with us for at least six months...and then they weren't. Which in the end is best for them (better for them to gain permanency now) and in many ways for us too. Having a short first placement gave us experience to be able to discern a little more carefully future placements in our home so that we can be the best foster parents possible by making sure the children are the best fit for our family and our family is adequately able to care for the needs of the kids. I definitely feel like fostering is one of those things you can read about and talk about and take trainings for but never really understand until you are doing it. And truly each child and situation is different, but we feel like we understand it a bit better and are a bit more prepared for next time.

This all leads me to perhaps our biggest and most important recent news: I'm expecting! It's seems a bit crazy that two years ago, we were just finding out we were pregnant with Davey shortly after my endometriosis surgery and we had only the teeny tiniest hope that that baby might actually live. That baby did live (and is currently making a mess of my kitchen - the boy loves colanders) and now I am 17 weeks pregnant with his little brother or sister. In many ways, this pregnancy is completely overwhelming. It's been completely normal and healthy, something that really just doesn't seem normal to me. Davey came after four miscarriages, dozens of blood draws, hundreds of injections, and a surgery.  In many ways it felt like we had to work hard for our baby, we had to earn him. (I know that baby's are not truly earned - they are always undeserved blessings. But after my experiences, it just felt like suffering was a necessary part of eventually having a living child.)

This pregnancy has been effortless (not to say I haven't felt unwell, I had a terribly sick first trimester but there hasn't been any bleeding or other fears about the health of the baby) and I just feel so undeserving. To have to healthy pregnancies and babies in a row seems almost impossible after what I had gone through and just the unworthiness I feel about it all is often so overwhelming. There are so many couples out there still waiting for a baby after infertility or loss. So many of them are so much more deserving than I of a baby. Why has God blessed me with another (living) child while they still wait and suffer? I know there aren't answers to these questions. I know that our baby is completely undeserved by me (what could I ever do to deserve him/her?) and I know that this baby is nothing but a blessing and a gift. And I'm so very, very grateful.

I've been thinking a lot about a pregnancy after a pregnancy after loss. It's not the same as that first pregnancy after loss. But it's not the same as never experiencing a loss at all, either. A baby born after a loss is often called a "rainbow baby" (though I prefer the term penumbra baby), so what is a baby born after a rainbow baby? I couldn't find a term or any discussion of this subsequent baby and pregnancy anywhere, but I've been thinking about our little one as our "golden baby". (You know, for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? Ok, probably not as clever as I thought.) I know it's not everyone's experience, but my "pregnancy after loss" with Davey was overshadowed by depression and fear. This pregnancy feels redemptive in many ways. I'm rediscovering the joy of carrying life that filled my first pregnancy with Lucia (and my second pregnancy in which we lost Francis) but that has been completely absent in subsequent pregnancies. I am so grateful for this pregnancy and baby and so looking forward to seeing baby's sweet little face.

Lucia's portrait of the baby in my tummy (whom she calls "Magic Bean") complete with umbilical cord and placenta.
She is thrilled. Davey is oblivious.

All I Want Is A Happy Ending

When I think of our fertility struggles and our future "family plans", all I want is a happy ending. And I have that right now. After four miscarriages, we've had a beautiful healthy baby boy. There is a completeness there. A sigh of relief. We made it. It's over. We've won. Except this isn't the end. I still have around fifteen years of fertility left. Who knows what will happen in that time?

I am ok with having more miscarriages as long as you tell me that my last pregnancy, whenever that is, is one that ends with a living child in my arms. The birth of a baby provides closure and resolution, a sense of victory and hope. But to end my childbearing years with a loss, to have my last pregnancy be a miscarriage, would leave an open wound. All miscarriages leave scars, of course, but in time and with the birth of a living child, those wounds heal. The scar always remains, the memory persists and there is still pain. But looking into my son's eyes, I'm able to say "everything was worth it" because now I have him. If I hadn't had those miscarriages, if I hadn't persisted through another pregnancy, and another one, and another one, I would have never gotten to the one which gave me my son.

Pregnancies that end in miscarriage have their own value, of course. An eternal soul brought into creation. Suffering that can be united with Christ for a greater purpose. Lessons learned. An opportunity to rely more fully on God in our grief. I pray that someday these things may be enough for me, but in my human selfishness, I struggle to see this as worth the great pain loss brings me.

Of course, no one can guarantee my happy ending. If we continue to be open to life (and we will be) we continue to be open to death. And I have to face the reality that there may not be a happy ending in store for me. Perhaps my last years of fertility will be riddled with miscarriages or perhaps we'll spend years longing for one more child only to suffer a secondary infertility that is never resolved.

How do I move forward? How do I acknowledge the risk of another loss and decide another pregnancy is worth it anyway? I don't know. I just have to have faith that no matter what happens, I'll get through it. God will see me through it.

Christmas always comes anyway. (And our Christmas letter.)

Christmas is in two days and I am not even close to being ready. The last of my Christmas cards went out yesterday, thank goodness, but I still have several presents to buy. Davey still cries most of his waking hours and after a few days of only waking two times at night(!!!), he didn't really sleep at all last night and I'm feeling a bit worn. I had planned to write a gift guide for friends/family who have had losses and even lined up a few great giveaways, but it just never came together in time. I'll still write it and there will still be great giveaways, just sometime in January...or February...or whenever.

The good thing about Christmas though is that it comes whether we are ready or not. We all need Christ in our lives, even if we don't know it or haven't prepared for Him, and perhaps He comes more for those who are unprepared than anyone else. That's not to say that we shouldn't ready our hearts and our lives for His return, because that's definitely part of what Advent is about. But if you never got around to lighting the Advent candles even once (but I got them out! That counts for something, right?) because you're busy serving His kingdom in other ways (*ahem* nursing and changing the diapers of one of the precious children He loves so much), Christmas and it's joy are still coming for you just the same, as long as you allow yourself to see that joy despite the earthly imperfections of the celebration.

Last year, I felt equally unprepared for Christmas, though for much different reasons. I'd just had my fourth consecutive miscarriage less than a week before. I was feeling sick and tired and heartbroken. But Christmas came anyway and there was joy in it even though I didn't feel it at the time. Mostly I felt the pain and heartache of my losses, the absence of the babies would who be celebrating their first Christmas and the babies who would have been still in my womb.

Even though I get to celebrate a special little son's first Christmas this year, I still keenly feel the absence of the two others who would be celebrating their first Christmas and the two who would be celebrating their second. I miss them. It's much easier to feel the joy, but the heartache is still there too. This is what "bittersweet" feels like.

Anyway, what a difference a year makes. Last year, I shared on the blog the Christmas newsletter I didn't send because we had no good news to share. This year we did send a Christmas letter because we had lots of good news to share. (And we received more cards than ever, starting very early in the Christmas season! It was a good year all around!) I didn't write everything I wanted to write. I wanted to share that we'd made it through two more due dates. I wanted to sign the names of all our children on the card. But I didn't. Because not everyone we send cards to knows about our losses and, for some, I'd like to keep it that way. And because there is a part of me that want to be "normal" again, that wants to pretend like those losses never happen and know what it's like to just send out a Christmas letter with only happy things to share. Of course, we can never go back to what it was like before our losses and I think they've changed us is both negative and positive ways, but sometimes it's nice to purposely forget for a while.

Without further ado, here is our Christmas letter 2015 (with just a few edits from the version we sent out to maintain some privacy):

Dear family and friends,

     2015 was a big year for us! In June, we moved back to Colorado. We greatly miss the friends we left in North Carolina, especially our communities at our parish and David’s school, but are grateful to be back near family.

     David found a job as a Field Application Scientist at a small company in the area. He is enjoying the opportunity to be back in the lab and his new job requires him to travel.

     Our son, David Newton Richards, Jr., was born on November 11. He made quite the (quick) entrance and was delivered by his daddy in the car! Despite the circumstances, both baby and mama were perfectly healthy. Little Davey was baptized on November 22 in the same parish where Lucia was baptized and we were married. We are delighting in our baby boy. Lulu loves being a big sister and spends the majority of her days kissing and cuddling him.

     Lucia turned four on December 5. She’s a very active girl who rarely keeps still! She is interested in learning to write and loves to dance and do crafts. She keeps busy in a ballet/tap class and gymnastics.

     We have also gotten involved in activities in our new community. David joined the Knights of Columbus at our parish and Mandi is part of a Catholic moms’ group. We’ve especially enjoyed rejoining our friends in the Catholic couples group we attended here previously.

     We are currently under contract to buy our first home! If everything goes well, we’ll be closing at the end of January.

     This year, we also welcomed a new niece and attended the wedding of Mandi’s best friend and the Church wedding of David’s cousin. Lulu was a flower girl twice!

     It has been a year of great blessings for us and we hope it has been the same for you and your family. We pray that God bless you this holiday season and in the new year to come!

With love,

David, Mandi, Lucia, and Davey

 


Photo by Dandy Little Lens Photography

Thoughts One Month Later

My son is a month old now. He doesn't sleep more than two hours at a time, so I'm the most exhausted I've ever been. When he's awake, he cries a lot and needs to be held constantly so I can't get much done. The toilets and shower desperately need a scrubbing. Between leaking through 50% of the diapers he wears, spitting up frequently, and my own (breast milk) leakages, I just can't keep up with the laundry. My chronic back pain has been at its worst from bending over to change diapers and hunching over breastfeeding. I look incredibly frumpy with no time to get myself ready and very little clothes that fit. And...I'm the happiest I've ever been.

Two weeks after little Davey was born, David mentioned that I'd laughed more those two weeks than I had in the previous two years. That sounds about right. The past few years have been difficult. Aside from the grief of our losses and the depression that came with my pregnancy, we were struggling with a lot of fertility decisions - Do we try to conceive again? Should I have surgery? Do we need a break? Can I keep trying? Will we ever have a living child? What do we want to do? What is God asking us to do? It was incredibly stressful. And for the time being, that stress is lifted. We have the incredible joy of our baby boy and we don't have to think about fertility for a long while yet, so we can just enjoy this time.

Davey's One Month Photo

David's Birth Story, or How Having a Baby in a Car Was the Unexpected Answer to My Prayers

Let's start this story at the very beginning. I'm 99.9% certain that my real due date (based on conception) was November 1. Every ultrasound I had during the pregnancy (and I had many) showed the baby measuring right on for a November 1 due date except the ultrasound that my doctor used to date the pregnancy, which gave me a November 6 due date. I was completely fine with going by the November 6 due date though because my daughter, Lucia, was late and I expected this baby to be late too, so it seemed that it would be likely that the baby would be born around November 6.
I started have contractions on October 29. They were Braxton Hicks contractions, very light and not at all regular, but were consistent in that they would appear every afternoon, come and go throughout the evening, then completely stop when I went to bed. When I was pregnant with Lucia, I hadn't had a contraction of any kind until I went into labor so I thought that these contractions signified that I would be going into labor somewhat soon. Maybe not that day or the next, but within the next several days or a week.

But November 1 and November 6 came and went and I still hadn't gone into labor. In fact, I stopped feeling contractions at all around November 4th which was a bit discouraging because it felt like my body had been gearing up for labor and then...nothing, like I was moving even further away from having my baby. Lucia had been eight days late and I hadn't been anxious at all for her to be born. As my first pregnancy, I had expected to be about a week late. But this time, I could finally understand what so many pregnant women meant when they would talk about being just done with being pregnant. I was still feeling pretty decent physically - just tired, so tired - but emotionally, I was more than ready to have the baby. After nine months of almost constant fear and anxiety, I needed to see and hold my baby and know that all was well. Or that all was not well, but just to know.

On November 11, I started feeling just off not long after getting up. I was really nauseous and was experiencing a constant, strong, dull pain in my stomach. I had felt a similar pain for short periods of time previously and it seemed to be caused by the baby lying right in the front of my stomach (facing my back - the optimal birth position). It felt like the baby was pushing straight out of my belly button and the pain was coming from so much outward pressure. I have no idea if that was the actual cause, but the baby was indeed right there in front. Thankfully, it was Veteran's Day and my mom works in a bank so she had the day off. She watched Lucia for me while I took a shower and laid in bed most of the morning. (Side note: We live with my parents.)

Around noon my mom was leaving to take the dog to be groomed and run some errands and she planned to take Lucia with her. Shortly before she left, I sent David a text asking him if it would be a big deal if he came home early from work and then I ended up not going into labor. I had previously been determined that I would not ask him to come home until I was having very obvious baby is coming contractions, but I was just feeling so awful and emotional and really just wanted him with me. I sent him a text saying "I feel like crying." He asked why and I could only respond that it must be hormones, which made him think that this really had to be early labor.

After my mom and Lucia left, I was able to fall asleep until David got home. He came home very excited, thinking we were going to be having a baby that day only to find me feeling....absolutely normal. The pain was gone, the nausea was gone, no desire to cry anymore. Just normal. And frustrated.

I rested for a little while longer and then we decided to go for a walk. As we were walking, I was having a very angry conversation with God in my head. I told Him I was tired and I was angry that after going through so many miscarriages and a very emotionally difficult pregnancy, He couldn't at least give me at least the consolation of the baby coming on time. Why was He making me suffer longer? A little later on in the walk, I calmed down a bit and spoke to God again, apologizing for my (silent, in my head) outburst and acknowledging that there are far worse things than being pregnant a little longer with the healthy baby for whom I had prayed.

While we were walking, my mom and Lucia came home. Halfway through our walk, we stopped in the house to tell my mom what was going on (or what wasn't going on, as it were). She, of course, was excited because she saw David's truck in the driveway and assumed that he had come home because I was in labor. After telling her that was not the case, we finished our walk. Still no contractions.

My mom started dinner - tomato bisque - but then had to leave to take Lucia to gymnastics before she could get everything in the pot, so David took over. I stayed in the kitchen as David cooked and organized the spices in one of the cabinets.I was feeling perfectly normal, even by non-pregnancy standards, and I definitely was not feeling like baby would be coming anytime soon.

My mom and Lucia came home around 5 and not long after, while I was sitting on the couch waiting for the soup to finish, I felt a POP. The midwife broke my water well into labor with Lucia to speed up the process so I hadn't experienced what it was like to have my water break but I immediately suspected that's what happened. I went to the bathroom to check and there was a large amount of yellowish mucus. I couldn't tell if my water had broken yet, but I went back to the bathroom several times over the next ten minutes and there was clearly a yellowish liquid dripping. Since the fluid wasn't clear, I decided to call my midwife immediately. We spoke for about ten minutes. She said that yellow amniotic fluid was fine but let me know what colors to look out for. I told her I hadn't had any contractions yet, but that I was having a dull cramping in my lower abdomen. I don't remember all we talked about but I do very clearly remember her asking if I was ready to have a baby and I answered that yes, I'd been ready for a while! She told me to call her back around 8:30 to check in but otherwise just to rest and wait for contractions to start. At this point it was 5:30. My water had broken at 5:10.

Almost immediately after I hung up the phone, contractions started. David had downloaded a contraction timer on his phone already, so he started timing them right away. They were very close together - only about 1 minute 45 seconds apart! But they were very weak. I could talk through them easily. They were noticeable, but not painful. Sometime around the time I started having contractions, I went to the bathroom and saw blood. I called David into the bathroom and told him that we would definitely be having a baby soon.

David continued to time my contractions as I laid on the couch and watched "Family Feud" and he went to our room to pack the last minute items in our bag for the birth center. They were consistently 1 minute 45 seconds apart so he asked if I thought he should call the midwife back and let her know. I wasn't sure. Yes, the contractions were close together but they still weren't strong. But we decided he should call anyway. The midwife told us we should head in.

I helped David finish packing and had to pause often because my contractions were getting stronger. Lucia started to cry when I had contractions because I was moaning through them, which scared her. It was so hard to say goodbye to her while she was still crying because I wanted to comfort her, but I knew staying longer and having more contractions would just make her more upset. As we were leaving, my mom asked, "Aren't you going to have dinner before you go?" since the soup was now done, but it was clear that we really needed to leave. I did have David get a container full of soup for himself though so he could eat while I was laboring at the birth center.

David and I walked out the door around 6pm. My contractions continued to get stronger, but I assumed that I still had four or five hours to go before pushing. Clearly if I could stop and wait for David to scoop up some soup to take with us, I wasn't in that much pain and didn't think the baby was coming very soon. The intensity of the contractions were nothing compared to the last several hours of contractions during Lucia's labor. The midwives and nurses at the birth center had all said that second labors were usually around half the length of the first and I was in labor for a little over 14 hours with Lucia, so seven hours seemed to be a likely length. The drive to the birth center was 35 to 40 minutes and I never had any doubt that we'd have plenty of time to get there.

But about ten minutes after we left, the contractions had gotten much more painful, the downward pressure was very intense, and I felt a strong urge to push. I started repeating, "Jesus, I trust you. Jesus, I trust you," through each contraction but it quickly became just, "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus," or "I trust, I trust, I trust." I realized that this baby was probably coming sooner rather than later but still assumed I had some time ahead of me, at least enough time to make it to the birth center.

And then I found myself pushing. Well, not pushing exactly, or at least not intentionally pushing, but I felt the downward pressure pushing the baby down. I told David he had to pull over. We weren't going to make it. He got the midwife on the phone and pulled over into the nearest parking lot, in front of a Kohl's. This was around 6:20. The midwife thought we could still make it, we were only 15 minutes away. But I was insistent - there was no way, the baby was coming, and we needed to call 911. The midwife (or one of the nurses at the birth center there with her) called 911 for us so David could stay on the phone with her. David put her on speaker phone. She asked if I could reach down and see if I could feel the baby's head. So I reached down and I did feel something hard that I assumed must be the head just inside the vaginal opening.

At this point, David got out of the driver's seat and came around to my side of the car and by the time he opened my door, the head was out! I don't remember what the midwife told David to do, but she told me to take a deep breath and give one good push to birth the rest of my baby. So I did. At 6:25 pm, David caught our baby and as he was raising it to my chest we noticed immediately that it was a boy. Our son! David, Jr! He was covered in meconium, but cried immediately and seemed to be perfectly healthy. David put his pea coat over both of us and then I asked him to go into our bags in the backseat and get something softer to wrap our baby in. David found his robe and covered the baby. It was dark and a cold night and our biggest concern was keeping him warm.

An ambulance and other emergency vehicles arrived a few minutes later. They brought us blankets, checked little David out quickly, and then helped get us out of the car onto a gurney and into the very wonderfully warm ambulance. We had originally hoped to be taken to the birth center but the EMTs said they felt more comfortable taking us to the closest hospital just five minutes away because it was so cold that little David had a lower than desirable temperature and he was covered in meconium so they wanted to make sure he hadn't aspirated any of it. We decided to just head to the hospital. David drove the car while the baby and I headed over in the ambulance. After the cord stopped pulsing, the umbilical cord was cut in the ambulance.

When we arrived at the hospital, we went straight to the labor and delivery floor where there was staff awaiting us. From there, everything was pretty normal, or at least what I assume is fairly normal in a hospital birth. They checked little David over a bit more than perhaps is usual but he never left my room. He was perfectly healthy and his temperature went back up to normal quickly. It took a while (almost and hour and half after birth, I think) for the placenta to be delivered and both that and the few stitches I needed were definitely the most painful part of the whole labor and delivery, just like I remember them being with Lucia's birth experience.

After that, we were left alone pretty quickly. I was able to make a call to the new big sister and my parents to let them know we'd just had a baby in the car, David called the rest of our families, and I was able to just nurse and cuddle my little son. A couple hours later, my parents and Lucia came to see us for a short time. We stayed the night in the hospital and left the next afternoon.

Looking back on my labor and discussing it with my midwife, there really weren't any signs that my labor would be that quick and there really wasn't any way we would have made it to the birth center in time. I had contractions for less than an hour before David was born, so we would have had to have left almost immediately after they had started and at the time, there was no indication that we should.

But I'm really, truly happy with how it all turned out. I believe having our son in the car was an answer to so many prayers. I would have never planned it (and I don't necessarily suggest it) but I truly can't complain about a fairly painless childbirth that lasted less than an hour. Baby and I are both healthy and I've had a much easier recovery this time around. And probably most importantly, all the fears I had about labor being emotionally difficult were moot because it was so fast I didn't have much time to think about anything but having a baby. Nothing went as planned. I wasn't birthing in a dark room with the light of candles, there was no diffuser with calming essential oils, and the Marian statue I bought specifically for the occasion stayed in our bag in the backseat. We didn't pray the rosary or over the intentions I had collected for labor. But it was even better than I planned - truly the most peaceful, joyful, healing birth I could imagine.

The main downside about the whole thing was that our car was left looking like a crime scene. But even that isn't nearly as bad as it could be. Our car is currently getting a new seat cushion and carpet in a shop that specializes in biological messes in vehicles while we drive a rental car. And our car insurance is covering everything but our deductible (and it's going to be over $2,000!). Since it wasn't a collision, our insurance payments won't even go up. Seriously, an hour long labor is worth paying our deductible.


Here are a few pictures of little David's first few hours, all taken once we got to the hospital. They're mostly duplicates of the pictures I shared in his birth announcement post, but they're all I've got.

David Newton, Jr.

November 11, 2015 6:25pm

7 lbs. 12 oz. 20.25 inches

 I did not look like this after my 14 hour labor with Lucia. My hair isn't matted! I'm not sweaty and exhausted!

 David, Jr. with his daddy, the man who delivered him!

 Meeting big sis, who came bearing gifts.

If you want to read Lucia's very different birth story, you can do so here. Oh, and Kate of Sancta Nomina posted a birth announcement for David where I share a little about his name and ask for nickname suggestions. You can read it here.

It is with great joy...

that I announce the birth of our son, David Newton, Jr., on November 11, 2015 at 6:25pm. 7 lbs 12 oz and 20.25 inches. He was delivered by his daddy in our car. An ambulance arrived a few minutes later and we were taken to the closest hospital. All of us are healthy and doing well. It was certainly a crazy birth, but in many ways his unconventional entrance seems like a very unexpected answer to so many of our prayers.

We came home yesterday and are learning what it's like to be a family of four. Big sis Lucia is especially very enamored and protective of "little brudder". Thank you to everyone who has prayed for our family throughout this pregnancy, we are so grateful!

Birth story to come. In the meantime, here are some pictures of little David's first few days.

Impatience and Gratitude

For a woman who is struggling with infertility or loss, it often can be very difficult to hear pregnant women complain about their pregnancies. Even if it's not truly complaining but simply discussing the aches and pains of pregnancy, it can sound like a lack of gratitude. However, the physical and emotional tolls of pregnancy are real. How does one balance acknowledging the struggles of pregnancy with gratitude for the child the pregnancy brings?

Our baby is much desired and much loved, coming after a very difficult time of loss after loss. I am deeply thankful for this child and for the ability to carry a pregnancy to term. And yet these past several weeks have still been filled with exhaustion, discomfort, and pain. The joy of our child and pregnancy certainly allow me to view this suffering in a more positive light, however, it doesn't mute it. The sleepless nights, the back and hip pain, the headaches, the searing heartburn, etc, etc, etc. are all still there. And yet acknowledging those physical burdens makes me feel guilty. I've never once thought that our baby isn't worth the pain, but even admitting that there is pain somehow seems wrong.

My "official" due date is tomorrow, though I think that my real due date passed last weekend. This end time has been much more difficult than I expected. My daughter was 8 days "late" and I was really calm and patient until she arrived. I'm much more uncomfortable this time, but also emotionally much more anxious. I never worried during my first pregnancy, never considered that a pregnancy would - or even could, really - end with anything other than a healthy, living child. This time is different. It's not that I've expected that something would go wrong, but every moment I've been aware that something very well could go wrong. And so, as I reach the very end of this pregnancy, the urgency seemed heightened. I've made it this far - nine months! - and I'm just so, so very anxious to finally reach the finish line. Each day that goes by seems like an eternity. 

And yet, both the baby and I are healthy. While I'm certainly tired and uncomfortable and in a bit of pain, I'm overall feeling well for nine months pregnant. It seems so greedy to ask or pray for the baby to come now instead of waiting patiently. I've already gotten nine months of a healthy pregnancy, something so many women pray and plead for. Why can't I suffer a little more? Why can't I enjoy the time I have left? Why must I want more?