Lennox Anchor

I’m not much for details. But this was too significant of a moment in our lives to not write it all out at least once. 

It was Sunday night, Father’s Day, and Sam and I had decided to watch a movie and stay up late together.

I honestly don’t even remember what movie we watched. I was sleepy half way through the movie but didn’t quite make it to sleep. The movie ended around 1:30am or so and at 1:36am I felt my first contraction. At that moment I wasn’t sure it was even a real contraction, but it felt different than the Braxton Hicks ones I had experienced. I mentioned to Sam that I thought it was a real contraction and he asked what I wanted to do. It all seemed pretty mellow at that moment so I said I wanted to go to bed and try to sleep, just in case it was the real thing.

We went to bed but I couldn’t sleep. The contractions stayed pretty consistent, so after laying there wide awake for an hour I decided to get up. It was 2:30am and I figured I should start keeping track of the contractions, just in case it was the real deal. I also had realized that I didn’t have anything ready to go to the hospital since it was almost 10 days until my due date. So I did a couple loads of laundry, packed my hospital bag, washed clothes for Lennox and re-read everything I could find about how to figure out if you’re in labor or not. None of it was helpful.

At around 5:30am I decided I should really start timing the contractions because they hadn’t gone away and seemed to be getting stronger.

I found it confusing because all the books talked about the 5-1-1 rule, but my contractions all seemed to be 1-3 minutes apart. The books didn’t talk about that at all. Nor did anyone in the birth class we took. Useless.

Around 7:20am I decided I should wake Sam up (I let him sleep, obviously) and go to the hospital just to get checked out. I figured they would be able to tell me if it was real labor or not, so if it wasn’t I could relax. So Sam got up, quickly packed his bag, lectured me about not waking him up sooner, and we headed to the hospital.

I found it funny when we got to the hospital because the admissions person asked me why I was there. I literally laughed out loud. What other reason would I be at admissions desk for labor and delivery? It was just too funny to me.

Anyway, we filled out the necessary paperwork and got taken back to triage so they could check everything out.

I got changed into a hospital gown and we settled into the little triage room and waited for the nurse to come do her thing. She commented from my demeanor she didn’t think it was real labor. I guess I didn’t look stressed out enough? Haha.

The nurse strapped me into the fetal monitor and then the contraction monitor first. A few minutes later she came back and did the internal check. To her (and our) surprise I was 4cm dilated and 90% effaced and my contractions were consistent and strong at 1-3 minutes apart (again- useless books never even mentioned that as a possibility).

She declared that I was in active labor, so they were admitting me and would get us to a room shortly.

Once we got settled into our room the waiting game started. The contractions were consistently getting stronger, but I wouldn’t say they were ‘painful’ at that point. Uncomfortable, sure, but not bad. Me and Sam hung out and talked, and tried to relax as much as we could.

A couple hours later the nurse came back to check me again, but this time, she accidentally broke my water. She had commented the last time she checked me that the waters were “bulging” (sorry, gross), so it wasn’t too surprising, I guess? 

This was my one disappointment about childbirth in the hospital; once your water breaks they don’t let you move around anymore. Since Sam and I had decided on a natural birth, being able to stand or move around was important to me to help alleviate pain. So that was a disappointment as they had me get back into bed and I had to just settle in and hope that things moved quickly.

I noticed the contractions got a lot a stronger after that. I remember being frustrated about being stuck in bed, because the only thing to look at on the wall across from me was a clock. So I was laying there, literally watching seconds tick by. But thankfully, time did pass and the nurse came back to check me again, and I was at 7cm. After that the contractions started getting a bit more intense. I would like to say that I was totally relaxed but by that time all I could do was focus on getting through each contraction.

Quick side note: I can’t give Sam enough credit for being so AWESOME the whole time I was in labor. He was the exact support I needed.

The nurse told me after hitting 7cm that we would be probably be having the baby in a couple hours. That was super exciting to me, so I tried to focus on that, and not stare at the clock on the wall, counting every single minute.

Fast forward an hour and 45 minutes, I was in quite a bit of pain, and starting to feel like I needed to push. I told the nurse and she checked me again and said I was at about 9 1/2cm, so then she asked if I wanted to get out of bed and stand up. I said YES, because that’s all I had wanted anyway. Why I could get up then and not the whole time is beyond me, but whatever.

I stood up for a few minutes, and then sat on the birthing ball and then with one contraction I knew I needed to push. I told the nurse again, and she said ok and to just wait until I was in the bed again.

Somehow I managed to get in the bed, contracting away, and got positioned to push.

The nurse talked me through how to push and said I could push on the next contraction. So that next contraction I started pushing, and that was a whole different type of pain. Not as bad as I thought it would be, just different than sitting there, enduring contractions.

Once we started that I didn’t keep track of time anymore, thankfully. I asked Sam later how long it took, and he said 45 minutes of actual pushing. So not that bad, it didn’t seem that long to me. I felt no difference in pushing, some women talk about the “ring of fire”, I never felt it. Couldn’t have told you when that happened, or when I tore (mildly). Never felt any of that, somehow.

The doctor encouraged me to push beyond the 3, 10 second rounds almost every time, so I tried to do that. I felt very determined to make it happen quick. Haha.

The only time I felt like I wasn’t sure I was going to make it was when one of the nurses told me it could take up to 3 hours to push out a baby. I remember looking at Sam and telling him I didn’t think I could do that for 3 hours. The nurse quickly assured me it would take less than an hour. I sure hoped so.

The most exciting moment before he came out was when I was pushing and Sam looked at me and said “he’s almost here!” So even though I wanted to take a break, I kept pushing. Before I even knew it, he was out and they were laying him on my chest.

There he was, all red and crying his little eyes out. I was a little concerned about the pretty good cone head he had, but he was absolutely perfect to me.

Nothing mattered as soon as I got to kiss his sweet little face and talk to him.

I didn’t care when the doctor gave me a few stitches, or when the placenta was delivered.

It’s pretty nuts how none of that is relevant once you hold that sweet baby.

At that point Sam and I hadn’t been able to settle on his name. But the nurse was filling out his little birth cards and doing his footprints so she asked us if we had a name. I looked at Sam and asked him what he thought. Without hesitation he said “Lennox Anchor.” I think that was the name I really wanted, but until he said it, I didn’t know for sure. 

And so, there he was. Our perfect little, 7 pound, 15 ounce, 20 1/2in, baby boy, Lennox Anchor Madrid.
And our lives will never be the same. 

Valleys

I had an epiphany the other day. It’s not that shocking, I promise. But I do think it’s important.

As followers of Jesus, we should be professionals at pain. Not that we’re masochists and long for pain, or relish in it. We don’t wallow and gain a sense of pride about our pain. We don’t turn our pain into our identity. We don’t become it. But we should be pro’s at facing it. At walking through it. Psalm 23 is a beautiful illustration of our walk through the valley- the valley of the shadow of death. I think sometimes we read that scripture and interpret it as once. We walk through the valley once. There’s nothing in the passage to confirm this thought process. I think we just like to think we have the hard trial once, prove our mettle and then we’re done. We imagine a time when we’ll look back on the valley with fondness because it’s a distant memory. And we will. But what if there’s more than one valley? More than one shadow of death? Here’s the shocking thought: What if we NEED the valley? Maybe we need multiple valleys, tempering us for different things. Preparing us and softening us. Calling us once again to draw close and cling to Jesus. 

We should be professionals at pain. Meaning we know how to respond. We respond with faith. We trust. We rest. We sit down at the table prepared in the presence of our enemies, and we eat in peace. 

We don't pretend things aren't difficult. We’re ok with grief. We’re ok with the tears. But we don’t allow the walk through the valley to become the road to despair. The valley is just another passage on the walk of faith. Take a moment and grieve. But then gear up. Because the valley is really one of the most incredible adventures of our lives.