Thursday, October 27, 2011

eli {pt. 2}

The kids went to Deeann's until my mom and dad could get them and we headed up to the hospital (a forty minute drive). 

We googled name meanings on the way and narrowed our list down. . . both of us had been planning on two more days of baby preparation.  You can do a lot in two days and . . . we felt a little rushed and harried. 

I was trying to be relaxed, even though I wasn't, and so I requested a smoothie from the McDonald's drive through before we got to the hospital. As I sat there, breathing through my contractions and sipping my smoothie, Daniel started snickering and suggested that I finish my drink before we got to labor and delivery:  "They'll never admit you if you walk in slurping that. No one ever believes you're in labor anyway, and your smoothie won't help!"

I thought he had a good point, so I stood in the hospital lobby and gave myself a brain freeze before facing the daunting task of convincing the triage nurses that I was indeed about to have a baby.

And once again, I didn't exhibit enough classic labor symptoms to be admitted, so we hung out on the floor and walked the halls, burned our baby playlist from itunes, chatted about names, with me growing crosser and crosser as my labor progressed.  Anyone who has had a baby knows that you can be okay one minute and when that next contraction starts, you can turn into a grumpy bear.  My fear has always been that I'll swear.  That didn't happen, but according to my husband, I was really rude.

We were walking around the corner of the nurses station and Daniel didn't know that I was laboring and he pointed to this little fuzzy orange hat placed on the statue of a child.  "Look, isn't that cute?"  Apparently I growled:  "I don't wanna look at that punkin hat."  He loves to tell that and point out that all of the nurses heard me, too.

I had such different emotions this time.

I didn't want any pain. I was scared and stressed. I think the past months have just been so painful and so stressful that facing the prospect of known pain was discouraging and scary to me.

After four hours and my doctor's insistence, I was admitted and finally had a beautiful warm room and a hot shower and music and soft lights. . . all of those cool delivery room things that I love about our hospital;  I was in transition and didn't really know it and since everyone else thought my labor was going to take awhile, I requested asked for  begged for an epidural. 

Another thing Daniel loves teasing me about:  I didn't realize that the anesthesiologist was on call and had to drive to the hospital. . . I guess I just thought he was taking his sweet time in a doctor's lounge or something and I said at one point "Where is Mr. Epidural?!?!"  Daniel insists I said that just as he walked into the room.  I don't know.  I'd like to think he didn't hear that.

I'd never had an epidural before, but it wasn't a big deal at all;  however, just as he finished, and advised me that I would be feeling warm tingling in my toes, I told my nurse. . . "Ummm. . . I have to push."

And I did and squeezed Daniel's hand about in half and the room filled up in a minute and the epidural was pretty pointless and my doctor was looking at me and saying, "you push and I will lay him right up on your stomach!"

Pain, pain, pain, a year and a half of hopeless, wrenching pain, ache ache ache, so much loss.  I was so, so scared.  Daniel was turned away with his head against the wall, crying out to God. 

And more pain, now.

All this pain

I wonder if I'll ever find my way

I wonder if my life could really change at all

All this earth

Could all that's lost ever be found

Could a garden come up from this ground at all?

And suddenly there were tiny cries.  And Eli.  And he was in my arms and we were looking at his perfect little body  and Daniel was weeping.  Oh, Jesus, thank You, thank You, thank You.  I couldn't believe he was alive.  I sobbed.  He was warm.  He was perfect.  He was ours.

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of the dust

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of us.

His cries were different than Gabe's and I was thankful for that and instantly aware that Eli was his own little person. I can't even describe the way my heart exploded with love for the little person God had given us in the midst of so much grief and so much darkness.

All around

Hope is springing up from this old ground

Out of chaos life is being found

In You. . .

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of the dust

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of us.

. . .You make me new, You are making me new. . .making me new. . .
(Beautiful Things, Michael Gungor Band, playing while Eli was born)


  1. He's amazingly precious and beautiful. I love this song you have playing... and the words mean a lot to me. I haven't lost a child but this year I lost an aunt and a grandmother. One was very sudden and I was very close to her. The other was "expected" and I wasn't as close to her. I'm still healing from it all and hope is coming back to me....

  2. So beautiful. Those unforgettable moments...

  3. Congratulations! Beautiful baby, beautiful story!

  4. What a beautiful story... thanks for sharing..
    and yes, I cried...

  5. He is Beautiful! God bless you

  6. Such a beautiful story. I love that He makes all things new and brings beauty out of the pain. Thank you for sharing what God has and is doing.

  7. Happy tears and big squeezy hugs... I can't wait to meet your new little man. Love you!