On April 6th at 7:16pm, another little one joined our family. He began his grand entrance the very moment I would have never wished for it. 5 days overdue. 12 o’ clock AM. Stomach Flu. That very night, as we were turning off the lights, I remember telling Shane: “One of my worst nightmares is going into labor sick.” I knew the physical feat birthing a baby was, even without the added depletion. Sure enough, despite all the cautionary measures I had taken to avoid the dreadful stomach flu that was spreading through my family, I woke up at midnight needing to throw up. After an hour or two of throwing up, the tensing of my stomach muscles finally sent my 5 day overdue body into labor. Now I was battling contractions between each reach for the bowl. I felt so weak. I cried to Shane because I didn’t want it to begin this way. I knew it would be only the sustenance of God to get me through the next 24 hours.
I called the midwife around noon the next day, once contractions were unmistakably stronger and closer together. “The flu can really stall labor, making contractions sharp and unproductive,” she told me. “Best if you rest and try to eat and drink what you can.” I was able to take little sips of coconut water while pacing but I could tell I was seriously dehydrated. I tried to rest since I hadn’t slept the night before. Shane made me some avocado and sprouted grain toast that I was able to stomach. As it nourished my tired body, it also restored hope that I would have the strength to make it through the journey ahead. I was afraid I wouldn’t have the energy to face the intensity of labor without the fuel of food in my body. I already felt so weak, so tired, and this was just the beginning of the journey.
Pre-labor was slow and gave me time to recover from the previous night. I took several warm showers because it helped ease the intense back pain. I sucked on a lime popsicle my sister dropped off for me and I slowly felt the strength returning. Contractions were fairly inconsistent ranging from every 5-7 minutes. Contractions became sharper anytime I would stand, so I spent most of the day laying and practicing slow, focused breathing. Shane made the call to go ahead and send Lilias with my mom. My mom arrived jolly, excited, stunned (her 9th grandchild had just come two days before!) She arrived with a bucket of treats for little Lilias. It felt assured knowing that she was in good care. I was sad to say goodbye, though, because I knew upon her arrival home things would forever be different. She would no longer be my only baby. I had to remember what a gift we were giving her in a new, lifelong companion. With Lilias gone, I had time to focus on preparing. I finished packing my bag and began doing exercises on the yoga ball as well as the Miles Circuit to get baby in optimal position.
The day progressed slowly. My body was doing exactly what it need to but I was struggling with patience. Throughout my pregnancy I was told again and again that second babies come much quicker than the first. I wanted the day to speed up. My midwife encouraged me not to rush things because my body needed time to replenish and rest before the intensity picked up. The baby felt low and the bottom pressure was intense. Walking was painful. This was a sensation that I hadn’t experienced this with my first labor.
Shane set up the pull-out couch downstairs and made me feel cozy and comfortable. To get my mind off the discomfort, we watched a few episodes of a British show called “Repair Shop” that we thoroughly enjoyed. Kelly and Steven, our dearest friends and neighbors, dropped off coconut water and popsicles on their way out to the hospital. My little niece Ruth was born two days prior and was in the NICU for complications associated with her Cystic Fibrosis. Today was little Ruthie's major intestinal surgery. Kelly, my doula, reassured me of her love and presence with me that day. I was heartbroken to not feel like I could be fully with her on this heavy, weighty day and likewise she felt the loss over not being with me during labor. But we were together in the truest sense of the word, even if we were physically apart. I felt Kelly’s strength with me the entire journey. I felt her cheering me on. The entire day I couldn’t help but think of my little niece who I ached to hold again—wanting to be assured that she would be okay. Conflicting emotions at raged within my heart.
Contractions had finally intensified to the point where I was no longer able to talk or laugh through them. I continued to delay getting in the car because I loved the comfort of laboring in my familiar environment. I didn’t want to show up at the birth center with little progress and dilation to report, which had been the case with my firstborn. “Just a little while longer,” I remember telling Shane again and again. Shane felt differently and was convinced that I didn’t realize just how far along I really was. He was convinced that I was trying to birth this child in the car.
Around 5 pm and after a whole day of consistent contractions, he finally made the executive decision to get in the car and go. Now was the time. He grabbed our bags and grabbed a quilt and pillow for a comfortable journey there. I grabbed my TENS unit and a comb to squeeze—a few pain coping mechanisms I had heard about. Even with the increasing intensity of the contractions, I remained convinced that I would have a long road ahead of me. The length of pre labor with my first had made me sure not to get too excited, too soon.
I was checked as soon as we arrived to the birth center. 8 cm dilated and entering transition. I was "in the zone" unaware of the flurry taking place behind the scenes. According to Shane, our Midwife, Sadie, was in a bustle grabbing bowls and towels and quickly calling the assistant nurse to come. Sadie, offered to draw me a bath and put some lavender and peppermint oil in the diffuser. I remember there being so much peace during this time. I was learning to trust my body and lean into the pain. I remembered the words of my sister's midwife at the birth of her daughter years prior "The only way out is through." The hot water helped ease the contractions and Shane clutched my hand tighter during every wave of pain. I remember having some incoherent conversation with him between contractions asking him the same silly questions over and over again, “Are you sure I can do this? Are you excited? Do you think it's a boy or another little girl? How do you think Lilias is doing?" It hurt so, so bad. But through it all I felt strong and calm and between the swell of a contraction I would catch comforting glances from Shane. His quiet and gentle companionship anchored me. My body had done this before and it could do it again.
I thought of Ruth, my niece, who was undergoing surgery as I gave birth. I channeled that little girl’s strength and the strength of my sister, whom I had witnessed give birth so peacefully and courageously just two days before.
Everything that transpired next was a bit of a blur. The end was fast and furious. The pain was peaking and yet I felt comfortable in the bath and had found a helpful rhythm of breathing. I was unprepared for a water birth. I hadn’t planned on this. I kept asking Sadie “What do I do when the baby comes out? How do I do this??” She just chuckled and just said that everything would be alright and that Shane could catch the baby. Trust my body. She checked me one last time. An hour after arriving at the birth center, I was there. Baby’s head had fully descended and she suggested I reach down to touch it. A little wary at first, I conjured up the courage to feel it. I couldn’t believe it...the baby was right there.
We were minutes away from meeting this little human but I wanted to hold off because my sister and mom were still rushing through traffic to get here. It became harder and harder not to push. Sarah, also sick with the flu, strapped on a mask and pushed through whatever sickness she was feeling in order to be there. Sadie assured me: “You can push whenever it feels right.” I hadn’t felt the urge to push with my first labor but this time around it took everything in me to wait and hold back.
They finally arrived and with the sweet presence of my mom and sister came the calmness and freedom to proceed with pushing. 6 minutes—6 excruciating minutes of pushing and the baby was born. I squeezed my mom's hand the entire time. According to Shane, I had the most intense “war cry” he had ever heard. It took every ounce of strength in me to get the baby out. I was a mess. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins. I couldn’t stop shaking. Shane grabbed the baby out of the murky water and lifted it up. A deep, loud, healthy cry. “A boy!” I exclaimed, having the front row seat. “A baby boy!” The reddest skin I had ever seen and full, plump cheeks just like his sister. 8 lbs and 10 ounces and incredibly beautiful.
The minutes that proceeded were just as glorious as I had remembered. There is nothing quite so faith-bolstering as watching God provide the strength in your deepest hour of need and seeing a beautiful child at the other end of it. I will never grow numb to this miracle. I will always be in wonder at the mystery that God allows us the privilege of partnering with Him in this 9 month process of creation and the final push of enduring pain in order to make way for new life.
I was moved to the bed, our baby still attached. They were in no rush to separate him. Shane draped the patchwork quilt that I had stitched together slowly and reflectively during his pregnancy, praying and wondering about this anonymous baby. I basked in the glory of what has just transpired. Nothing compares to the relief after birthing a child into the world. It's almost as if you’ve been to the grave and back—a new person... As if there is nothing that you couldn’t do, with God’s strength supplied. My mom had labored with my sister Kelly, her third, 27 years before on this very same day. On April 6, 1993, God had been faithful to her and had given her that same mysterious strength that had just sustained me.
Is there any experience that takes us closer to the heart of the Resurrection? When can we more acutely feel the weight of Jesus' words "...but if the wheat seed dies, it bears much fruit." God reserves this special privilege for mothers. He has allowed us to share uniquely in the sufferings of Christ and the subsequent glories that follow. For us, the glory of a wet, warm, hard-won baby placed on our beating chest. For Christ, the reward of repairing our relationship with the Father forever; light overcoming darkness, once and for all. If following the church calendar, Christ had just a week before this birth day, traveled to the cross for the glories that were set before him.
Kelly and Steven sped through rush hour traffic downtown after Ruth’s surgery in order to be with us. I will never forget the sight of them coming around the corner and seeing their new nephew for the first time. It is an image I will take with me for the rest of my life. Kelly’s eyes filled with tears and Steven’s eyes lit up with joy. Even on such a day of grief and uncertainty, they had wanted nothing more than to be there rejoicing with us. “It’s what Ruth would want,” she assured me. “This is exactly what I needed. This is so good for my heart.” Only two days postpartum herself and still bleeding, Kelly was rushing to the restaurant down the street to bring back food for us to feast on. I’m not sure I have ever felt the power of friendship more than I did at this moment. Nor have I seen such a beautiful display of sacrificial care for others even when the one sacrificing is hurting. Kelly and Steven had every reason to be home, to be resting, healing, receiving help...but here they were, rushing through downtown Orlando traffic to be here, next to us. Bitter and sweet intermingled and coming together to form a beautiful display of sacrificial, abiding love.
We celebrated with mounds of Italian food from the local restaurant down the street. I ate hunched over the little nursing babe, going back and forth with those in the room recounting the series of events that had just transpired. Had that really just happened? Was he really real?! In shock over the speed of it all. You wait nine months, nine long months for this little one, and suddenly they're here in your arms. Whatever appetite I was lacking the night before had returned with great voracity. I’m not sure food has ever tasted so good in my entire life. So nourishing. We truly feasted. Even the midwife and her assistant joined us for chicken carbonara and spicy, made-from-scratch noodles with pesto and peanut butter chocolate cake to top it all off. The whole room was buzzing with excitement and shock.
On our way home, Shane picked up blue balloons to attach to our mailbox to placate our neighbor’s curiosity and share the joyous news. Our wedding flags hung from our home in celebration of eastertide and the remarkable event of Jesus' Resurrection that we had just celebrated two days before. With my little boy snug at my chest I felt jubilee ring in the deepest part of my soul. Jesus came to give life abundant. The Spiritual life in our very souls but also this tangible, chubby, 8.10 pound life I hold in my arms. He is the God of all things sweet and wholesome and good. Life would always be triumphant and Easter should be the song that we sing, always. The Easter Lily I had planted when we first moved in was blooming and the big sister squealed at her new, forever friend. He was hers to keep, a companion to grow with.
We are grateful for this abundance. And just as the pain was intense, and at times more than I could bear, so equally was the sweet relief and euphoria of holding him for the first time. How sweet it is to serve a God that, amidst all the darkness and sadness that still exists, gives us the privilege of holding these red, fresh, sweet babies. There is nothing like it.
Your name would be Finlay. Finlay Davis. Finlay after the most beautiful place we had ever laid eyes on. A small mountain in Victoria, British Columbia. Mount “Finlayson” the mountain we climbed and where Shane pulled out the gold band and asked me to marry him and made me the happiest girl in the world. Your momma was named after this beautiful city and you would be too. Nearby, on the harbor overlooking the bay, your great, great grandma Harriet opened up a little tea shop, selling coffee for 5 cents a cup. I can’t wait to climb this mountain again one day, this time with you right next to me. Finlay, “how beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news and who proclaim peace (Isa 52:7)” May you be blessed with the great privilege of being a carrier of the love of Jesus into a broken and lonely world. We pray your love for Him towers above any present darkness and becomes the hallmark of your life, like a grand mountain in the midst of a city.
And “Davis” …a strong family name. Your great, great grandmother was Virginia Davis. Mother of your great-grandfather, Ted Fletcher. Eccentric and bright. Long brown hair down to her waist and hands stained with wood polish. A jolly sense of humor and a boisterous laugh. Entrepreneur. Furniture refinisher. Mother to seven. You have a beautiful, strong, unique lineage of people who have loved Jesus with their short time here on earth. I can’t wait to tell you all the connected stories that made your story. But you are also named after David. Shepherd. King. Warrior. Poet. Beloved. Our prayer is that you become strong and courageous like him. That you record God’s faithfulness to you like David did, with poetry or song or just with the simple beauty of your ordinary, unfolding days and a kind, grateful heart. We pray that you know Him intimately as the shepherd who leads you beside still waters. I have taken such refuge in the Psalms all my life, and I hope one day you too find hope and courage in his words. May you one day join him in saying “ In your presence there is fullness of joy” (16:11) I hope you dwell in His house all your days and gaze upon His beauty. May you always know that you are beloved.
I do not know what your story will be or where your road will lead. I cannot wait to watch it all unfold. I know that there are hardships ahead that I cannot, as much as I may try, shield you from. And yet, there is so much joy to be found in this one short life that we are given. So much good. And we have a kind Shepherd who walks beside us, so we must not fear. Look for the good along the journey. Pick up the gold hidden along the path. Watch for His beauty. Cling to it. Let it be your song.
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