The Surprise Appearance

PLEASE NOTE: Contains mild description of child birth.

While all of our children, and all our birth experiences are special to us, there has been one of a unique nature.

The Conspiracy
Although I could never prove it, I have often suspected that child number seven's entrance into this world was more of a surprise to me than my wife.

We've always considered ourselves to be fairly normal people, (though many would disagree) and made the journey to home birthing in measured incremental steps. We read everything we could on the subject, weighed our reasons well, and took great responsibility in becoming our own best medical practitioners. Okay, so we didn't exactly go to a university, but as I stated in my last post, we view birth as a natural phenomenon, so there was no need for me to practice Emergency Arterial Surgery as my army field manual suggested! Still, we read many authors like Shonda Parker (which we HIGHLY recommend) and even more home birth accounts from midwives and mothers on the net. We drank in their encouragement and followed their advice...plan your home birth as you want it to be and it will be just that. Usually.

By the time that we discovered that our sixth son and seventh child was on the way, we felt like veterans at this. We had done the appropriate prenatal visits to determine that as usual our pregnancy was without any obvious problems. We had assembled the normal items, ie.-mattress cover, a couple cheap shower curtains, extra set of sheets from Goodwill, olive oil, herbal tea, comfrey sachets, soothing music list, essential oils for the bath tub (think conspiracy here), and of course the sundry towels, cloths, bowl for the placenta, etc. We were ready. There was just one small issue that my wife and I had not settled upon. Never being satisfied with just a normal home birth ;), my wife had mentioned the desire to have a water birth several times during this pregnancy. Not being one to shy away from adventure, and having a good half dozen of these experiences under my belt already, of course I said no way! I had always suspected that her parents were deeply affected by the hippie movement despite their rather upstanding lives today. I mean not even they understood our various views on things like homeschooling and not owning a television, or some of our other "issues", much less the whole home birth thing. And now, I was having pictures of my wife and I floating around in the deep end of a pool while my children stood cheering us on from the diving board! Water birth? Isn't that dangerous?? Out of the question. Still, I would find the occasional article printed out and left lying around the house from time to time. For the most part, things progressed normally as we anticipated the arrival of our latest namesake. All the normal buzz of activity was taking place in our home. Mother was busy planning the menu that Father would have to follow during her needed time of rest following birth and I was staying active by reminding all of the children once again of the usual routine: Where babies come from and how they grow, what duties God requires in the bringing up of children, how blessed we were as parents to have another soul entrusted to us, and of course, how we would all need to govern ourselves during labor and the recovery period. Everyone had a job to do and they were all an important part of bringing the new baby into the world peacefully!

Since we want our children to be involved as much as possible with the entire experience, but still don't want several unattended youngsters running around the house during a hard labor, we always try our best to give birth at a time when they might be down sleeping or maybe early in the morning as they're waking up. How in the world do we accomplish this? We pray, alot. And then, we have a back-up plan, just in case. Usually this would be a simple helper to sit with the children in the other room if needed. Thankfully, my children from the oldest to the youngest will sit quietly and obediently for extended periods of time if asked to do so. I cannot stress the value of this enough and all the praise belongs to the hard work and dedication of my wife in training my children as easily as she delivers them. Very young children may be an exception, but after 12 months or so they have always known what was expected of them and felt secure enough to know this was the way they were to live.

Excitement filled our home, which wasn't hard to fill considering we were living in a single wide trailer that year. My wife and I took the smallest room in the front. Down the narrow hall was our daughter with one baby brother sharing the room with his crib, and at the far end, was the master bedroom with the walk in master bath crammed full of smelly boys and bunk beds. My wife really loved that place ;) By the time that our due date arrived, we were feeling the stuffiness of being in such tight quarters. Our goal was to remodel and sell to provide a larger home. But as baby day got nearer it was obvious that we would each have to share a little more of our own elbow room when the baby arrived. My wife had never had any unusual incidences in past pregnancies, but now our due date came and went by a full 8 days. We were probably not the most patient people by this point and had spent countless hours walking and praying that the baby would come. At that time, in our state there was a law which said that after the tenth day over due, the midwife must withdraw her services and send the mother to the hospital. We were growing anxious.

Early Saturday morning my wife woke me at around 6 a.m. and told me that she had a miserable night of low back pain and asked if I would go to the boys master bath and fill the large tub so she could soak in it to relieve the pain. I asked her if she had experienced any regular contractions and she told me that she had not. We knew that from our past experience and training that real labor will not let a mother fall back to sleep regularly and she had dozed in and out throughout the night, so we were not overly alarmed. It was the next few moments that caused me to perk up a little. As she started towards the tub, she grabbed onto the doorway in pain and said that she couldn't walk for a moment. Then, out of nowhere, she told me that she had an incredible craving for a sausage biscuit from McDonald's! Note to McDonald's: I expect royalties if this story is used. It was then that I became suspicious. Here was my normally demure wife demanding that I run to McD's about a mile away and grab a biscuit real quick. My wife HATES processed food of any kind. After seeing that she was safely in the tub and waking the older children so they could keep an ear open for her, I slipped out the door at 6:13 a.m. and rushed to McD's calling the midwife en route. I told her not to be alarmed, but that I thought we might be beginning labor soon and that she should be prepared for a possible call mid-day. My wife's labors usually last 5 to 8 hours. Since some children were awake, I took a little longer and got sausage biscuits for the whole household and rushed home arriving at around 6:25 a.m. as I got out of the car, the door opened and my 8 year old son was standing on the top step of our doorway. I have already mentioned that there was a child in my daughter's room in a crib, who was now 15 months old and beginning to climb things . We had been discussing moving him out of the crib into the bed with her so that he did not trying crawling out of his crib and injuring himself one day soon. As I stood looking at my son standing on the steps while I was juggling the bags of biscuits, he said matter-of-factly that the baby was in the tub with mother. I sighed in a tired way and said, "But son, I woke you up. How did the baby get out of the crib and into the tub with your mother?" Suddenly this 8 year old boy seemed to grow 4 feet taller as his shoulders appeared to widen to a man's dimensions before my eyes. Very slowly, and very calmly, he reached forward his left hand, (his mother is a lefty too, think conspiracy here), and placed it upon my shoulder, and looking into my eyes, said in an aged voice, "No Dad, the BABY is in the tub with Momma." The next moments were a blurr of biscuits and abuse as my dear child flew from the steps to the concrete driveway skinning parts of his precious body! I was in the bathroom before I could think and looking at my calm and serene wife lying in the water filled tub. On her chest was a large towel she had soaked with warm water from the tub draped across the completely silent and content little bundle of pink joy which she held against her!! The only words that came to mind amidst my gasp to catch my breath were, "Is he breathing, is he alive, is he okay?" My wife, just as matter-of-factly as my boy, simply said, "Shhh, he's fine, every thing's okay. Calm down or you'll frighten him!" Calm down?!

By this time my dear boy had gathered the biscuits, rubbed the gravel from his elbows, and had sauntered into the room stopping at the doorway, (mother is a modest woman), and was trying to explain to me that everything was alright, he had heard her praying through the wall and was able to take care of everything per her instructions. Here I stood, looking from wife and babe to little man in the doorway, feeling like the only guy in the room who didn't get the joke! Everything was fine, whether I was there or not. Mother was fine. Baby was fine. Children, (sans gravel), were fine. Dad however, was NOT fine! Prior to this experience, I was the rock of Gibraltar concerning emergency situations. Nothing phased me. I was prepared according to my ability and I had faith for what laid beyond my ability. But here, at this moment, I was raw. My son continued to offer calm assurance as he went about the house waking children and giving them the news and instructions, my wife related the tale of how she had felt the sudden over-whelming urge to begin pushing just after I had left. She chronicled how she had tried to cross her legs and began to pray aloud that God would make the baby wait. When she realized that God and baby had their own time frame, she then began to pray that He would give her strength and prepare her for what was about to happen. She described how an involuntary push caused the baby to crown. This is where the top of the head begins to exit, but only the top portion is actually out. She reached down and felt the hair on the baby's head when a second wave of pushing overtook her and the head was now completely out and under the water. Immediately a third great urge pushed our son gently into the tub where mother gently lifted him to her chest and began alternately rubbing his back to expel any amniotic fluid while pouring water from the tub over him to keep him warm. She called out for the boy to crank the heat up and toss a towel to her which she dipped into the water to use as a blanket. And then she waited and rested and marveled at how easily and naturally her conspiracy had worked :) The conspiracy part I have added despite her strong protestations of innocence.

The midwife got a call a little sooner than she expected. She had gotten into the shower when I called earlier and was not yet out when the second call came. Poor thing. She showed up with unbrushed and dripping hair and no jacket on a chilly December morning in record time as she pulled the equipment inside! We sequestered the children in sister's little room so that mother and baby and umbilical cord could make the trek to the far end of the home where her bed was waiting. Some days before, we had taken the needed precautions of making the bed twice, once with a set of sheets for use during and immediately after birth, the water proof cover followed by a clean fresh set of sheets for mother and baby to rest in. This always makes the transition easier,at least for frantic, nerve-racked fathers. The check-up by the midwife confirmed that contrary to the medical establishment's protestations, a home birth baby is quite happy, healthy, content, and right on time!

The author and his wife are the proud parents of 8,and soon to be nine,beautiful and healthy children, many of whom have been born in the comfort and safety of their own home.The Rock of Gibraltar still laughs when he describes the look on Dad's face just before he saw his breakfast hit the pavement.