Owen is Here

 

I planted an Amaryllis bulb before Thanksgiving with my boys. At the time I wondered if it would bloom when baby Owen arrived.  Sure enough, the week of my due date, it bloomed. I was sure he'd be here any day.  

Then a week went by, and I watched my beautiful Amaryllis wilt. Still no Owen, even though I was experiencing plenty of false labor.  I've always delivered my babies overdue.  Induction has usually been necessary. This time I was doing all I could to help myself go into labor on my own.  If I could do that, then I could have a natural birth. 

Even though the flower had died, I kept thinking of the image of its bloom.  It gave me a feeling if hope that what I was experiencing was just what was needed.  The bloom symbolized to me the beginnings of a change or transition taking place slowly in my body.  I faithfully practiced prenatal and birthing yoga each day and saw this visualization in my mind of a beautiful and peaceful birth.  Often, that was the only time I really felt all that peaceful about it.  Fears crept in, and I started to feel more anxious each day. Physically, I became ill, and it was hard to get better.  My boys hadn't been sick all winter, but we were all home with head-colds for a week.  Why now?  Yet I knew If I could get better in time, and get over these fears, then I could have a natural birth. 

I did get well in time, and as soon as I began recovering, the contractions came back. I was excited to have things moving along again.  But then, I started to worry that Connor and I were not going to be able to do this together.  I wanted to feel his love and support and completely trust him and my midwives.  If I could do that, I could have a natural birth.  

The day arrived.  I knew that if I could remember all the answers to my prayers, all the people who we're cheering us on, and all the blessings I had received I could do this. If I supported Connor as much as he did me, we could do this.  The confidence and peace that came was amazing. I knew this wasn't my own strength.  Heaven's help was there. 

Now, playing back in my mind the night Owen came into the world--I feel like we can do anything.  

We did well, and things couldn't have gone any better.  After a most pleasant and quick labor, I cried out in a way I didn't think a quiet person like me was capable of--but Owen came quietly. He was a water birth.  He was born without a cry; alert, and looking up into our eyes.  His spirit is so wise in such a tiny body.  

Recovery is something I can do. Nursing is something I can do.  I can raise three active boys. Because I'm not doing this alone.  Now I wonder what great things Owen will do.