Faith & FamilyDax’s Birth Story Part II May 4, 2017Alright, here we go, y’all. Now it’s time for the good stuff. If you missed Part I of Dax’s birth story, check it out here first. This one is going to be long…probably the longest post I’ve ever written, but I promise not to divide it up again and leave you hanging! Y’all, just bear with me. I left off with my parents dropping me off after breakfast and taking my sweet Rosie to their house while I waited for baby boy. Like I said, I’d felt really off through breakfast and felt worse as the morning went on. My mom said later that she knew something was happening about halfway through breakfast just by watching me. They dropped me off around 11:30 am and I came inside to wait. Chris was at work because he’d already taken some time off on days we thought the baby was coming and he was trying to get as much done as possible so that he could be off for a week when the baby finally came. He’d been checking in constantly all morning. We’d heard how quickly second babies can come, so I really think he was worried something would start, go crazy fast, and he’d miss it. My birth team had told me to text them anytime something was going on because with as many false starts as I’d had, they were thinking my body had made tons of progress and things could happen very quickly once it actually started. When I got in the house, I texted him an update and just said that I really believed something was happening. I told him about how I’d felt at breakfast and said I’d pay close attention and time any contractions I had. Well, I immediately had a super strong one. And then another. Then another. It was like my body had waited for me to get home. After walking in the door, I had three strong ones in less than 30 minutes. They were amping back up, I knew it. And they kept coming. The first three were just under ten minutes apart. Then, I had a fourth one about five minutes after the third one ended. I texted Chris that quickly and said he should come home. Then I immediately figured that hearing how they were getting closer together so quickly would freak him out, so I called him. He was so breathless and I asked if he was okay. His response was, “Umm….yeah, I’m sprinting to the car.” Haha….poor guy. He was about ten minutes away, so he was home in no time, thankfully. I updated the birth team and all said they were on their way, just in case. The contractions kept coming and were getting stronger, but the timing was sporadic. They were consistently coming, but some would be really close together and some would spread back out just a bit. The birth team arrived and we talked and they watched me some. I told them what I was feeling. Even with how strong and consistent things were becoming, I was still a bit fearful it would die off and be another false start. Our midwife suggested they go ahead and set up the tub, just to be safe, so I knew then that they really thought this was it. I said in Part I that Dax’s birth couldn’t have been more opposite than Rosie’s. That’s true about how labor officially started, but it’s also true about how the contractions felt. They were getting stronger, but I just kept waiting for them to feel as strong as Rosie’s. In between contractions, my doula and I talked about this, and she confirmed what I was thinking. She’d personally had one baby with her water broken ahead of time and one without (and attended births of both types) and she said that the contractions felt drastically different. What she described is exactly what I was noticing. With Rosie, I described it as a freight train and it really was. They started and it was fast and furious until she was here. The contractions were incredibly strong and the worst part was that unlike what I’d heard about how contractions would feel, they started off at the peak out of nowhere, held there forever, then quickly died off. They kept startling me and you had no build to prep yourself. With Dax, they were very different. I would feel them coming faintly, almost like they were far away. They’d grow slowly stronger and hit the peak about fifteen seconds in or so. At this point in labor, the peak was fairly short-lived compared to Rosie’s birth and then they’d die off. Having that time up front to prep made this such a different experience for me. With how strong and sudden Rosie’s were, I was laying in the bed throughout her labor. I was too light-headed and they felt too strong to get up. From the minute contractions really started with Dax, I wanted to walk. I was up on my feet his entire labor until I got in the tub to push. About thirty minutes after the birth team got there, they said they could check me if I wanted. That’s 100% my choice and they avoid doing it prior to labor unless a mom asks because it creates such false expectations. Every woman progresses so differently so hearing you’re not dilated or that you’re fairly dilated doesn’t really mean anything about when you’ll deliver. But, man, can it create some expectations. At this point, we knew he was coming. I could feel things progressing, so I agreed to be checked so we’d have some gauge on what my body was doing…even though that wasn’t an indication of how quickly it would move after that. I was 5cm dilated. I wasn’t really disappointed because things hadn’t felt that difficult yet. I spent about two hours standing and talking with the birth team. When I’d feel one coming, I’d go to the playroom for some reason and walk circles around the room until it passed. The room was pretty and was a comforting and special place to be. Birth amazes me because of how your body just takes over. I didn’t decide or plan to go in there, it just happened and quickly became my pattern. At this point, I still kept waiting for them to feel stronger. While the peak itself was as strong as Rosie’s contractions, it was shorter and having the time to prep made them so much more doable. I feel strange saying this, but I was waiting for it to get difficult. All of Rosie’s felt very difficult, so this was kind of strange and jarring for me. I talked about this with my doula and she said that as it progressed, they’d notice “the veil.” That’s what they call the shift when I sort of retreat into myself, stop engaging with everyone else, and focus. She said it’s a tangible shift they all notice. That’s the part they usually consider very active labor. While we waited on that, I kept walking circles around the playroom and sometimes walking throughout the house. I wish so bad I’d had a step counter on that day! There’s no telling how much ground I covered. This deep, almost subconscious need I had to move blew my mind. I’d start walking right as one started, sometimes even right before without even thinking about it. My doula showed me some exercises to do through the contractions to help move the baby down and help things progress. We did some squats and side to side lunges (not super deep) and did some with my foot elevated on a chair. Leaning into that through a contraction sure felt like the baby was working down. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling by any means, but I wanted to progress. I could feel a huge difference from those. The contractions kept getting longer and stronger and got to the point where I couldn’t talk through the middle of them, but it still felt minimal to what I had with Rosie and I really attribute that to having the build up front to prepare myself. I kept trying to evaluate my progress and sort of figure out what was happening. Rosie’s was so strong, I couldn’t even process it from the very beginning. This time wasn’t and that confused me. My doula finally told me to let it go, stop worrying about it, stop timing them, just be. And that was the best advice. It took all of the pressure off and I just started doing what my body needed to and not worrying about anyone else around or what their expectations might be. Around 4:30 or 5:00pm, I noticed things change. The contractions got stronger and longer again. I noticed much less time in between, though no one was counting at this point. The peaks got pretty difficult and were definitely on the level of Rosie’s birth. But the notice ahead of time made it doable compared to hers. I practiced my Hypnobabies skills that I did with Rosie and it made such a difference. Having the notice to focus your mind and get mentally prepared was huge. Chris is so great during labor. With Rosie, he just did what I wanted him to without me even saying it. He was right by my side, holding my hand, putting his cheek to mine, and talking to me through every contraction. This time around, I didn’t want him right there immediately. I didn’t feel the need for that and wanted to walk around by myself. He sensed that and just watched me. Around this shift, though, I wanted him close. I wanted him touching me through each contraction….his hand on my back, holding my hand, something. Looking back, I can see that I retreated right around here, but I didn’t feel it at the time. My mind was shutting off and my body was just taking over. I’d stopped engaging my birth team and really forgot they were all around me for the most part, even in between contractions. I was focused. Right around this time, I heard the midwife tell Chris we needed to fill up the tub. She was calm, but there was also an urgency in her voice and I realized it’d happened. The “veil” had come, even though things hadn’t felt like they were really progressing. I was so encouraged, but also shocked when this happened because so far, the labor had been easier and so much more peaceful than Rosie’s and this meant we were already nearing the end. I’m not saying it was a walk in the park, but it really didn’t compare to Rosie’s in my mind. Not long after they filled up the tub, I needed to go to the bathroom. As soon as I sat down, I noticed a giant, super strong contraction. Chris hugged me and it just didn’t die off. It kept coming and kept coming. It would ease off every so slightly and immediately amp back up, stronger than before. I got up and walked circles around our bed and bath. This part is really vivid in my memory. I can remember exactly how strong and sharp it was. It reminded me a lot of Rosie’s birth. I walked circles and cried and I can remember making “Ooooh,” noises over and over. Chris followed me in my circles and his hand never left my back…sweet man of mine. I got so emotional during these, partly because it was difficult, but more like an uncontrollable, hormonal thing. It was the first real “out of body” moment I’d had during this labor, whereas most of Rosie’s felt that way. I remember it almost like I was watching myself experience it, as strange as that is. I think this part lasted a few minutes before I noticed my doula standing in our doorway out of the corner of my eye. She said that I could get in the tub if I wanted to, that they thought it was about time to push. She told me later that what I’d experienced in the bedroom was transition…she recognized it immediately, but I didn’t at all because again, it was so different than Rosie’s. With Rosie’s, I remember the contractions becoming so strong and constant like that, but I was shaking and had horrible cold chills. That’s the most vivid thing I remember and I didn’t have those at all this time. I had the overwhelming emotions instead. I was literally shocked when she said it was almost time to push. That little stint was the first thing that felt as difficult as hours of Rosie’s birth leading up to pushing, so in my head, we had a ways to go. I immediately went into the living room and got into the tub. As soon as I was in there, this incredible fear came over me. Suddenly, I was absolutely terrified to push. I got really scared to push Rosie out, but I’d had it in my head that this one would come in a few pushes, like many second babies do, so in my mind, this would be the easy part. I cried and told them how scared I was to push. My midwife encouraged me and said she’d felt the same way with all six of her babies. She said some women find pushing to be a relief and the easier part, but others feel the opposite. I remember she said she’d take 65 more contractions over pushing a baby out and I can totally relate. She was so gentle and calming and said no one was in a hurry and to take my time. They said I didn’t have to be checked in order to push if I was feeling the pushing urge, but I really wanted to be. Even though I had the strong pushing sensation that you can’t really ignore, I wanted “permission” to push, I think. She checked me and said that I was 9.5 centimeters dilated and that there was only a tiny lip of my cervix keeping the baby’s head in place. That was good news, so we started pushing. For about thirty minutes or so, I gently pushed through each contraction and could tell I was making no progress. I’d prepped myself to push gently because after talks with the midwife, I thought if I pushed with all I had like I had to with Rosie, he’d slide right out and delivering so quickly wouldn’t be good when it came to tearing. Each one was so frustrating and I’m not sure I stopped crying throughout this whole time because I felt like something wasn’t working right. I’d pushed with Rosie for three hours. Her hand had been up by her head. This one was supposed to be easy and he wasn’t budging. They encouraged me to try a few different positions in the tub, hoping the change in position would work him down. Through each contraction and pushing, Chris was on the side of the tub physically supporting me with his arms under mine holding me up some and encouraging me. I couldn’t have done any of it without him. As emotional as I was through this first season of pushing, I kept thinking how much more peaceful and doable his birth had been than Rosie’s. I literally couldn’t believe we were already to that point that the majority of it was behind me and we were about to meet him. If Rosie’s labor and contractions had been a 10, his was a 4, no question and that just stunned me! Again, not something I’d want to do every day, but a 4, y’all! Thank you, water, for not breaking early on this one. Our emotions are funny things…I was terrified to push and yet thinking at the same time how much easier this was than Rosie’s. After all of this with no progress, she checked me again and said that that little lip of my cervix was still in place, holding back the edge of the baby’s head despite how long I’d pushed. I couldn’t figure out how I hadn’t pushed him past that in thirty minutes! On the next contraction, I pushed while she reached in and held that lip back so that I could push his head past it. That wasn’t pleasant, though it wasn’t nearly as bad as it might sound. I pushed his head past it. After another round of pushing, I still felt like we weren’t making any progress. Our midwife suggested breaking my water. It hadn’t broken on its’ own and she said it was stretched so tightly across his head and was likely holding him back so I had more to push against. On the next contraction, she broke my water while I pushed. I didn’t really feel anything different from that, but we expected progress would come soon! After a few more rounds of pushing, I still could not feel him descending and just did not understand! She suggested we go to the bathroom to let me pee before continuing and I immediately knew what she was doing. With Rosie, she’d suggested that toward the end of pushing because the movement and then the position of sitting on the toilet drops the baby rapidly. I agreed and we all walked to the bathroom. During the first contraction sitting there, I immediately felt like his head was crowning. I’m not sure that I can describe that sensation in any way that does it justice, but it’s pretty rough. I wanted to go back to the tub and she lovingly encouraged me to stay through one more. I did and it was worse than the first, but I majorly held back. Just like with Rosie, it’s hard to feel that sensation and push through it. As soon as that one was over, we walked back to the tub and during the next contraction and pushing, it felt like he was crowning the entire time. I again held back and did tiny pushes. I stopped each time I felt that sensation because it was so intense and I think that’s your gut reaction. When you feel pain like that, you pull back. But, something clicked in between that contraction and what would be my last. I was done and I became determined. I’d been so emotional for all of pushing, but just like with Rosie, I finally processed that it wouldn’t be over until he was out. And the only way he was getting out was to push through that. The minute the next one started, I began pushing with everything I had and immediately felt such a stretching and pain that I pulled back. But the second I did, Chris started cheering me on. He could sense me pulling back and I may have shouted some “I can’t do this” in there, but he could also see the midwife furiously working where she hadn’t been before. The only reason she’d be doing that is if the baby was coming. Something changed in Chris’ voice. There was an excitement and an urgency and he kept saying, “Keep going! You can do this!” over and over while he held me tighter and tighter. And so I did. This contraction and the four or five pushes it took to get him out couldn’t have lasted more than a minute, if that. But I’ve literally played this tiny part of labor over and over in my mind about a thousand times since. I’ve debated how to word this because I believe birth to be a beautiful thing. Rosie’s was, though it was very difficult, and his had been so peaceful and dare I say fairly joyful up until this point. But I’ve realized I can’t sugar coat it. As I was rehashing the birth later with my midwife, I was searching for how to describe this last little section and she said “It was very intense.” Yes, it was. Though I pushed with Rosie for so long, her coming out felt nothing like this. My midwife said that often, after pushing so long, there’s a numbing effect when they actually come out. It definitely felt numb compared to this little guy. I could sense our midwife working furiously while I was trying to push him out and what I learned later was that his head delivered and then all babies rotate to allow their shoulder to come out from under the pelvic bone. Well, he did that and then he rotated back. Our midwife had to gently re-rotate him and help him out. I can remember thinking during this, even though it was a matter of seconds, that there was no way I’d survive it without permanent damage. It was that….intense to use my midwife’s words. And then it was over. He was out and he was in my arms at 7:32 pm, after about two hours since “the veil” and after one hour of pushing. The switch flipped, every ounce of pain was literally gone in an instant, and I stared down at him. I remember crying “Thank you, Jesus,” over and over. While I’m very grateful for his little life and I definitely was in that moment, I was talking about thank you, Jesus, that’s over and I survived. It may have been a minute or less, but it was the most intense minute of my life, hands down. But then it’s over and even the memory of it becomes blurry as you stare at their face. It’s amazing how something so short can be so hard, leave such an imprint, but also immediately feel worth it at the same time. As I’ve re-lived this in my mind, I’ve debated whether or not to say how difficult this end part was because I was thinking that really takes away from the beauty that is birth and bringing life into the world…and time-wise, this was such a blip in the whole process and the rest was 100% doable. But then I realized, no, that’s why this is so beautiful and miraculous. As my husband has put it since, he couldn’t imagine before witnessing this that a switch that drastic could be flipped. As we’ve talked about it later, he’s said over and over how hard those last pushes were to watch…there was no question that I was in the worst pain of my entire life and there was nothing he could do other than to tell me to lean into that and keep going. But to go from that level of pain to complete relief and the most joyous you’ve ever felt in an instant is nothing short of a miracle. Something wells up inside of you after you work to deliver a baby….a confidence and a bravery. It gives you an assurance that you were CREATED to do hard things, that you CAN do hard things, and that you come out on the other side not just whole, but with joy and stronger than you went in. You come out ready to tackle anything that motherhood will throw at you. You come out nothing short of a warrior. And what do mamas need to be if not warriors? After he was out, we stayed in the tub for a few minutes and held and marveled at him. Then, it was time to make the trek to our bed. We’d planned this part ahead of time. Some women stay in the tub longer and deliver the placenta there, but I have a long history of getting super light-headed and passing out. I passed out two hours after Rosie was born when trying to go to the bathroom. We wanted to get me to the bed to rest and knew that right after he came would be the best time because my adrenaline would be super high and until you deliver the placenta, there’s very little blood loss which causes the light-headedness. Beforehand, I couldn’t imagine how I’d climb out of the tub and walk all the way to our bedroom after just delivering a baby, but like my midwife said, it was no big deal thanks to the adrenaline. I climbed right out and walked to the bedroom, surrounded by Chris and the birth team of course, and got right in bed with no issue. With Rosie, this was where the story ended. Having her was the main event, my placenta delivered seamlessly as 99% of them do and we were left to relax and enjoy our new family at home, just as we’d hoped. I held and nursed Dax while my midwife felt along my stomach to see if the placenta had detached. Once it had, she tried to deliver it. I felt it come out, or so I thought, as I did with Rosie, but then noticed the birth team looking at each other and I knew. Something was wrong. I immediately got teary and asked what it was, fear welling up inside. They told me nothing and kept working, but I kept seeing them exchange looks and my gut said something wasn’t right. Within a minute or so, my midwife told me that there was an issue delivering my placenta. Some had come out, but there was some left in there that had detached from the cord and nothing was attached to it to help remove it. She tried to manually remove it quickly, but that didn’t work. Within a minute or so, she informed me that we would have to be transported to the hospital to have it removed. The next bit of time was a blur. I laid there and cried, clutching my new baby, scared to death. She had told me so gently while stroking my arm that my life was not threatened. Everyone was okay. The baby was perfect and everything had gone perfectly. The only issues would come if we did nothing. But I still was terrified and mad. I’d planned for a home birth twice now. The first one was supposed to be the risky one, not knowing how I would deliver and it went perfectly. The second should’ve been no issue. I’d worked so hard to get him here safely and in the no-intervention way that Chris and I researched, prayed over, and felt best about. I heard her on the phone scheduling the transport. I heard the paramedics come in the door and saw them enter our bedroom with a stretcher. Our doula gently took my new baby from my arms, promising to bring him to us at the hospital after his newborn tests, and I was lifted onto the stretcher and carried outside. The next two hours were literally an out of body experience that I remember bits and pieces of. I got so light-headed in the ride over there that I kept going in and out a bit, closing my eyes, trying to ward off blacking out. We live so close to the hospital and got there quickly. Our midwife rarely has to transport anyone, but has everything set up just in case. We were taken straight to the maternity floor where a room was waiting for us. As they were rolling me in, I was so light-headed. I was crying. I was scared. I was so frustrated and heartbroken to be having to do this after delivering him and to now be away from my brand new baby. And as I was processing all of this, we rolled past the NICU. And I immediately was reminded of how perfect the entire birth was. The part that mattered was complication-free. Dax was perfect. And I was fine, we just had to get this taken care of. Throughout this whole process, I kept reliving those last 30 seconds that were so difficult and the whole hour of pushing and just could not figure out why it was so hard. He was supposed to slide right out after Rosie! After we got into a room and were waiting to be seen, Chris got a text from our doula about Dax’s newborn tests. Not only was he perfect, but we finally found out his size, which had not even crossed my mind with all the distraction! Chris looked at me wide-eyed and said, “Dax was nine pounds. He was a Rosie and a half.” I started laughing because all of it finally made sense! He wasn’t budging because he was huge compared to Rosie. His head was stuck behind my cervix because it was 1.5″ wider than Rosie’s was! And he was long, y’all….22.75″ to be exact….the longest baby by far our midwife said she’d ever delivered….and she’s delivered many. And getting him out was so “intense” because he was a giant little baby…those two words can go together right? Our doula also sent us this picture as they were trying to dress him to bring him to us. All of the sweet newborn outfits I had ready for him were too small, several inches too short to be exact. We’re still not sure where this height came from. We’re both semi-tall, me at 5’8″ and Chris at 6’1″. But we were both very average size babies. His size came as such a surprise because since he’s so long, he wasn’t chunky at all. He even looked thin! When our midwife would feel my stomach for his position, I kept asking about his size, but he felt very average to her since he was so long and not overly thick like a lot of 9 lb. babies. She kept saying he was really stretched out…who knew he was a giant! Back to the hospital story… The nurses were wonderful and so compassionate and kind. They told me they knew this wasn’t my plan and they were going to take great care of me and get me back to my baby quickly. The doctor tried several times to remove the rest of the placenta manually, but my uterus had closed and it wasn’t possible. They told me I’d have to have a D&C to remove it. Right before I was about to go in, our doula rushed in with Dax. The nurses immediately stripped him down and laid him on my chest. This is the moment we were reunited after an hour and a half apart, his first hour and a half not inside me except for the first ten minutes we had together before I was rushed off. That was a very vivid moment, like I was seeing him for the first time. I hadn’t really gotten to even look at his face yet. I passed out getting the spinal block after all the blood loss I’d had and woke up after the procedure was over and I was being wheeled back to the recovery room. The procedure went perfectly, I was told, and it ended up being so much less than they expected. Once my body relaxed, they were able to remove the last bits easily and manually with no instruments or issues. They even saved my placenta and brought it to our doula to have it encapsulated, as I requested in between black outs. That’s a whole other story, but we did that with Rosie and just as I’d read, it made the newborn days some of the most joyful I’ve ever had. My hormones were balanced and it was a wonderful season. I had to have that again. After it was all over, Chris and I were in the recovery room. I was nursing and staring at my new baby and we both just felt such joy. It hadn’t gone as planned, but all the parts that mattered had. And we were all okay, perfect in fact. I was fine. We were holding our perfectly healthy, giant baby. Life was good. We couldn’t be more thankful for how God brought Dax into the world, guided and gave wisdom to those caring for us, and kept us all safe and healthy. We learned later that what I had was called a Velamentous Cord Insertion. It occurs in less than 1% of births and is a fluke thing. I had all the normal ultrasounds and it was never detected. My midwife said that she immediately recognized what it was from studying it, but had never seen it in all the births she’d done and likely never would again…it’s that rare. It occurs when the cord, for whatever reason, grows back through the placenta and that makes it difficult to deliver the entire placenta intact. We asked at a follow-up visit with her if there was any issue for the baby with that and she smiled and said that the only issue could be malnourished, scrawny babies that are very small. Dax clearly was not affected. He’s been checked out thoroughly and is off the charts in every way. We were so thankful for our amazing midwife, who is not only so good at what she does, but who isn’t willing to take risks with her patients. I’ve heard stories since about similar scenarios where midwives tried to deliver the placenta at home, which is a complete possibility. But it does have a high risk of blood loss, which can be dangerous for the mom. I’m thankful that she immediately transported us, despite me not wanting to be, because she wasn’t going to take one single unnecessary risk with us. As I said in Part I, this birth took a lot of processing for me. The very intense ending, the hospital visit, all of it, was so different than my first. But looking back and having had time to process it all, I wouldn’t have done anything differently. The birth was perfect and was exactly what I’d hoped for for our baby Dax and our family. All of the reasons that made us want a natural birth to begin with couldn’t have gone better and were perfect. I finally got to have the water birth experience I so wanted with Rosie and it was amazing. There were many reasons I wanted that, but the main one is that it helps you remain intact. Tearing can have a lot of damaging future effects and a harder recovery, so while most of our birth choices surrounded around the baby and allowing my body to do exactly what it was created to do in its own timing, some had to do with minimizing tearing risk. With Rosie, I didn’t tear at all, which is wonderful for a first baby and not having a water birth (especially with how long I pushed). But Dax was 9 lbs with a 1.5″ wider head….and y’all, I still didn’t tear at all. I’m still stunned at that little fact. That’s unheard of and makes that ending worth it. Being in the water and feeling everything so my body naturally went slower and gave everything time to stretch are responsible for that wonderful fact! And now, as I sit here typing this, with him sweetly baby-snoring beside me, I’m shocked at how this giant, wonderful, traumatic, miraculous day is already foggy and distant. There are parts that are very vivid, but it already feels like I’m watching a movie when I think back on it, like it’s something I didn’t really experience. And now, he’s here with us. I nurtured him inside for nine months, went through a lot to bring him here, and now get to cuddle him, kiss his sweet nose, and love on him every day for forever….or until he gets too old to allow it. I’m overcome with how I love him. Like I said in yesterday’s post, I was so worried that my mama heart couldn’t expand enough to let him in with how much I loved Rosie. From the minute he was here, it grew. In the midst of all of that fear and stress immediately after his delivery, I had an overwhelming desire and need to protect him. My concern was for him and being away from him. So much of my sadness was over missing his first moments of life and not over myself or the changed plans. And ever since, I just stare at him and am stunned at how I treasure him. So far, his newborn days have been filled with such overwhelming joy. Every hard night and new obstacle brings back the memory of delivering him and I’m reassured that I’ve got this. If I can do that, I can do anything. I was made to take care of him. Dax William Jackman, I can’t wait to spend every day as your mama getting to know the wonderful, unique, God-created person you are. You’re more. More than I could’ve hoped, dreamed, or imagined. Son, you’re just so much more. A huge thanks to Julie, our doula, for snapping these pictures. Having something to remember this by is a treasure. If anyone is in Upstate, SC, I can’t recommend our birth team enough! Carrie LaChapelle from Hatched Midwifery Care and Julie Byers, our doula, are amazing! I would never have a baby without them. They’ll be our family forever. *** Thatβs been The White Buffalo motto for the last three years and is still what Iβm striving to do each day in our home and with our family. Yes, that often means tablescapes, inspiring interiors, and fun before and after renos. But it also means family. Faith. Joy. Struggles. Laughter. Health. You’ll find a little bit of all of that here as I share how we’re choosing to live with both style and purpose. A huge part of that is our journey toward a more natural life that’s focused on enjoying each and every moment together. A huge thanks to my main blog sponsor that makes this dream of mine possible:
Denise says May 5, 2017 at 9:18 am Beautiful, beautiful story Lindsay. Thanks for sharing. So happy that your boy is here and everyone is healthy! He’s beautiful! Enjoy every second. (btw my boys are 21, 15, and 14 and still allow me to hug on them..even in public ;)) Reply
Lindsay says May 8, 2017 at 4:18 pm Oh Denise, that made my day! Praying he’ll follow in your boys’ footsteps and still love on his mama one day π Reply
AmandaKB says May 5, 2017 at 2:06 pm Awe, Lindsay, what a beautifully overwhelming awesome story π I’m so happy everything turned out great. Considering you brought a brand new human into the world, I’d say “intense” is probably a pretty good adjective π And how awesome is Chris for being so supportive?! My husband is pretty great, too, and I give thanks to God every day for him. Praying for many blessings for you and your growing family! Thanks for sharing with us. Reply
Lindsay says May 8, 2017 at 4:17 pm Thank you so much Amanda! Birth stories are my favorite thing to read and share π Reply
shar y says May 5, 2017 at 3:40 pm This is a truly wonderful story and made me tear up several times. God Bless your lovely family. And, maybe part III could be about Rosie meeting Dax!! Reply
Lindsay says May 8, 2017 at 4:15 pm Thank you so much!! Rosie has loved him so much and has adjusted so well! It’s blown our mind π Reply
Silvia Loya says May 5, 2017 at 4:09 pm Lindsay, you are one brave gal. If I had to do it all over again, I would still opt with C-Section. Had two of those. Good luck to you and thanks for sharing yours and Dax’ beautiful story. Reply
Lindsay says May 8, 2017 at 4:15 pm Haha, Silvia, I don’t think so at all – it’s just what I know and have done. C-sections sound so much scarier to me! I think it’s all what you know π Reply
Lori says May 5, 2017 at 4:58 pm What a beautiful story. I have 3 children and my second was over 9 pounds with a very large head! I bled while trying to deliver and needed an emergency c-section. If I had chosen to give birth at home, I’m not sure either of us would be here today. I’m so glad it all turned out well for you. Reply
Lindsay says May 8, 2017 at 4:14 pm Lori, I am so sorry to hear about your experience! That is so scary and am so thankful it all turned out okay in the end for y’all! Our decision to do home birth was a complex one covered in research and prayer, but it was heavily based on our midwife’s long, impeccable track record, our 5-minute drive to the hospital, and everything being set up for transport straight into the maternity ward (no triage or ER waiting) just in case. Because I know that as natural as birth is, crazy things happen just like your story! Thank you so much for sharing! Reply
Connie says May 5, 2017 at 7:06 pm This is such a beautiful story. So glad that it all turned out well for all of you. Our DIL was in labor 36 hours and the baby would not come out, no matter what the doctor/nurses did to help her. After all those hours and no baby, she had an emergency C-section. It was bit traumatic for her and our son because the epidural would not work, so she had to have general anesthesia. Our son could not be with her……but we saw the baby when he was a few minutes old. Our son stayed with him until DIL was out of the recovery room and they had their bonding time together. A bit of a rough start for everyone. So glad you all are safe, healthy and happy! Thank you so much for sharing your beautiful story. Reply
Lindsay says May 8, 2017 at 4:10 pm Oh I am so sorry to hear about their experience! That is so traumatic and I’m sure was so hard to go through! Thankful that their baby and them are okay and got here safely!!! At the end of it all, that’s what really matters most π They’ll treasure that little one for sure! Reply
Val says May 5, 2017 at 9:07 pm Wow! What a story! Sounds like this whole process taught you so much about yourself and who God is. Dax looks absolutely perfect! P.s. I’m a maternity nurse and have never seen a baby this long! Reply
Lindsay says May 8, 2017 at 4:12 pm Thank you, Val, it really did! And that’s crazy! I have no idea where he got it, haha! Reply
Libby says May 8, 2017 at 1:11 pm What a beautiful birth story, Lindsay! Thank you for sharing it with us. I had two 9 pound little giant baby boys, one C-section, and one natural, and no water births possible in an Army hospital, 30+ years ago! Your story made me cry, and I am so thankful to the Lord for a safe delivery for Dax, and even though you had to go to the hospital, God was still in that detail. He kept you safe and took care of you both. Praise the Lord for His tender care for your sweet family. What a blessing you are to the many who read your blog. May God give you wonderful experiences and great memories of your beautiful children and hubby! Many blessings, Libby Reply
Lindsay says May 8, 2017 at 4:12 pm Oh Libby thank you so much!!! Your comment warmed my heart! Reply
Silvia Loya says May 8, 2017 at 5:09 pm Girl, you just make it look so easy. LOL Many blessings to all of you. Hope Rosie is enjoying her little brother. Take care. Reply
Haley says May 22, 2017 at 2:23 pm Beautiful birth story! Thanks so much for sharing. Congratulations on your big guy. Welcome to the world Dax!!! Reply