Foundations

The earth is the LORD’S, and the fullness of it, 

The world, and those who dwell in it.

For He has founded it upon the seas 

And established it upon the streams and the rivers.

Psalm 24:1-2 

You, Lord, laid the foundation of the earth in the beginning, And the heavens are the works of Your hands;

‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭1:10‬ ‭

 

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about God establishing the earth. There are many scriptures that confirm this idea, it’s not profound to consider. Even Genesis 1:1 states this idea quite clearly; “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.” 

 

But there is something even more that I have been considering.

 

I was reading about the Hebrew word for ‘womb’. The word ‘rechem’*, which is derived from the word ‘racham’. The word racham is defined as compassion and mercy. 

This honestly astonished me. The implications of this language are indeed profound. 

First, the womb is intended as a place of compassion and mercy toward mankind: as the Lord opens the womb to bear children. And this is confirmed in scripture when David says that children are a gift, a reward, from God.*** And confirmed again in scripture when it is to the womb of a woman that God sends His Son as a baby.**** THE act of compassion and mercy. 

 

And furthermore, I believe the womb is intended to BE (present and future tense implied)

 a place of compassion and mercy. 

 

You know I’m going to say it, because the implication is clear. The womb cannot be a place for murder (abortion), because God established clearly his intention for it. It is intended to be a place of compassion and MERCY. Not death. Not murder. This is so important for us to understand as believers because though we might be able to justify many reasons why abortion is acceptable and necessary, it is firmly established in God’s word that it is not. 

He has woven his design and intention into the very language we use so that even if in our lofty humanistic “wisdom” and argument, it cannot be denied. 

 

And honestly, I think this is a beautiful thing to consider. Even if you hate the idea of children, it is incredible that our Creator designed the ability and physiology of our bodies in compassion and mercy. His intention toward us in this matter is compassion and mercy. 

It is not burden. Children are not a burden; they are a gift. 

 

 

Of course, we can discuss nuance in situation and recognize that sometimes there are hardships involved in raising a child. Of course, there can be and are. However, the answer should not be killing a truly innocent human being. As Christians especially, we are unable to escape the reality of God’s word. There is no justification for abortion; for the killing of an innocent baby who cannot speak for themselves. Scripture actually addresses that too.*****

 

 

And no, we will not be countering this conversation with a discussion on gun rights, immigration, illegal immigration, homelessness or capital punishment. 

I have plenty of thoughts on these topics, but none of them are going to be addressed here. Just once, we are going to leave this topic as is. 

 

 

Now, please understand, I am mostly talking to believers, as I think our confusion about this is deeply concerning. And I do understand how it might be hard to reconcile what you have been convinced is truth with actual Truth. 

Even if you choose not to acknowledge God, His design is final. I know that can be hard to accept as well, but it is another inescapable reality. 

I am sure that there are many who will disagree, or tell me how incorrect I am. And that's fine. God bless you as you disagree. 

I could see how some could still choose to see this in a different light and interpretation, but I would suggest your ultimate issue might be with lordship and therefore you will never yield your position. That will be an issue only you and the Lord can work out. 

 

I hope that instead of being discouraged or frustrated, you find yourself hopeful. 

That even though a child may not fit into the plan or finances or vision you had for your future, it could turn into the biggest and most incredible gift that you cannot even imagine. 

A child is a gift, from a place of compassion and mercy. 

And as a woman, you are designed with compassion and mercy built into your body. 

What a gift!!

 

 

 

 

 

*https://biblehub.com/hebrew/7358.htm

 

 

** racham: compassion

https://biblehub.com/hebrew/7356.htm

 

 

 

***Psalm 127:3

Behold, children are a heritage and gift from the LORD, 

The fruit of the womb a reward.

 

****Isaiah 7:14 

Therefore the Lord Himself will give you a sign: Behold, the virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and will call Him Immanuel. 

 

***** Proverbs 31:8-9

Open your mouth for the mute, 

For the rights of all who are unfortunate and defenseless;

Open your mouth, judge righteously, 

And administer justice for the afflicted and needy.

 

Psalm 82:3-4

Defend the weak and the fatherless;

uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed.

Rescue the weak and the needy;

deliver them from the hand of the wicked.

 

 

Let Go

I’ve been in this process over the last 5 years. And the last year I’ve taken time to listen and really hear what the Lord has been telling me. To be still, honestly. To wait. 

And truthfully, I’ve written and rewritten this blog. I’ve been struggling with it because I know there’s something to be said, but I hadn’t been able to ascertain the point. I don’t want to miscommunicate what I feel like the Lord is teaching me. I’ve been mulling this topic over for months, and trying to put together some thoughts on it. 

The other night on my run, the Lord showed me the real point. 

Do not be unequally bound together with unbelievers [do not make mismatched alliances with them, inconsistent with your faith]. For what partnership can righteousness have with lawlessness? Or what fellowship can light have with darkness?”

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭6:14‬ ‭

This is the point. 

I have been struggling with so many different relationships over the last few years. Both in friends, and my own leaders in church. It seems to be the same pattern over and over again, which finally has led me to the conclusion that the Lord is showing me something that I need to deal with *in me.*

I think it’s important to note that most often, the Lord is going to address our own sin, not just come discipline people who have hurt us- and we should be so thankful that this is the case.*

We can waste time trying to hold other people accountable for being selfish and hurtful, OR we can trust the Lord will deal with them. 

But I digress. 

Back to 2 Corinthians. 

I truly believe this scripture is not just about marriage, but includes any relationship or partnership. The key phrasing for me is “mismatched alliances.” 

These can be people who love the Lord, but are not walking the way you walk. 

Transparently, I have had many of these such alliances in my life. I have made the mistake of being so naive to assume because people “love God” and are in church, that they must be a “matched alliance”, as it were. And they were not. 

The yoking is an important picture because these are people who are not interested in keeping pace with you, or carrying their share of the burden. So when the yoke breaks, they’ll be out of sight before they even notice you’re not with them anymore. And when they do, they won’t look back to see what happened, or if you were injured, because they simply don’t care. 

Even worse, in my experience, the story they’ll tell is that *you* were the problem and they’re glad to be rid of you. 

Ultimately, this is not a tale of how awful those other people are. We can recognize unhealthiness and move on. We aren’t going to give bitterness a foothold**. 

This is a tale of learning to choose equal yoking. Even just in friendship. If this is not a true course of walking together and equally carrying one another’s burden, it’s not a yoke we can take on. 

But make no mistake, we are responsible for the yokes we choose. So, let us mature. Let us choose wisely the partnerships we take on, the yokes we choose to share. 

Finding people who are walking the same direction, and are willing to carry the load is actually quite rare. 

In my experience, there will be more misses than marks. And that’s ok. 

It’s ok to “miss out” on opportunities. It’s ok to miss out on something other people are doing because a relationship or friendship is ok for them, but might not be ok for you. 

Don’t worry over missing out, you’re not really. All you’re risking is missing out on an unequal yoke. And that will be no loss. 

Don’t be afraid to let go of these unequal yokes. 

*”and you have forgotten the divine word of encouragement which is addressed to you as sons, “My son, do not make light of the discipline of the Lord, And do not lose heart and give up when you are corrected by Him; For the Lord disciplines and corrects those whom He loves, And He punishes every son whom He receives and welcomes [to His heart].””

‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭12:5-6‬ ‭

**Be angry [at sin—at immorality, at injustice, at ungodly behavior], yet do not sin; do not let your anger [cause you shame, nor allow it to] last until the sun goes down. And do not give the devil an opportunity [to lead you into sin by holding a grudge, or nurturing anger, or harboring resentment, or cultivating bitterness].”

‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭4:26-27‬ ‭

And a bonus reminder to choose wisely:

He who walks [as a companion] with wise men will be wise, But the companions of [conceited, dull-witted] fools [are fools themselves and] will experience harm.

‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭13:20‬ ‭

Obedience

The last 3-4 years have been a pause on many things for us it seems like. A divine pause, even if at times it didn’t feel that way. 

A time for learning. A time for refocusing. A time for releasing many things, and taking hold of others. 

Through the course of rejection I’ve experienced over the last few years it’s become hard at times to share my thoughts. 

I’m not sure why. Maybe fear that sharing my thoughts will give people reason to reject me, or maybe protecting myself from allowing people to know me. I don’t know.

But it’s not a place I want to live. 

I’ve observed that “hurt” can easily become an address at which you find your residence if you’re not diligent. Somehow, hurt can become comfortable. 

Well, I don’t want comfortable. As much as I like comfortable, I don’t want it. 

I want to live in the place where I die to myself. 

I was remembering growing up how I would hear messages on that topic frequently. I can’t remember the last time I heard a message on the convicting and life altering truth of dying to self. Picking up my cross. Crucifying myself. 

This is not a one-time salvation prayer. This is a daily work. Hour-by-hour, down to minute-by-minute if necessary. 

Sometimes it makes me want to mentally stamp my feet because it seems unfair. 

But I’m not looking to live a life of self-determined fairness, but one of obedience. 

I guess the point in all of this, is the remembrance of dying to self. The way of the world is increasingly self-obsessed. “Do whatever you want!” “Whatever makes you happy!” “No one can tell you what’s right or wrong, just do what makes you feel good.” 

While these ideas might seem harmless enough, they’re not. If we profess Jesus, we don’t get to be self-obsessed. If we profess Jesus, we don’t get to do whatever we want. 

If we profess Jesus…there is no claim to our life anymore- it’s HIS. If we profess Jesus, it is no longer us who live.* 

Lord, help me live this way. 

* For to me, to live is Christ [He is my source of joy, my reason to live] and to die is gain [for I will be with Him in eternity]. If, however, it is to be life here and I am to go on living, this will mean useful and productive service for me; so I do not know which to choose [if I am given that choice].

‭‭Philippians‬ ‭1:21-22‬ ‭

I have been crucified with Christ [that is, in Him I have shared His crucifixion]; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body I live by faith [by adhering to, relying on, and completely trusting] in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me. I do not ignore or nullify the [gracious gift of the] grace of God [His amazing, unmerited favor], for if righteousness comes through [observing] the Law, then Christ died needlessly. [His suffering and death would have had no purpose whatsoever.]

‭‭Galatians‬ ‭2:20-21‬ 

Live as free people, but do not use your freedom as a cover or pretext for evil, but [use it and live] as bond-servants of God.

‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭2:16‬ ‭

Number of Days

Today I was reminded that God is not shocked.

By anything. He’s not surprised at what’s happening in the world. He’s not surprised by a disease. 

He’s not surprised by politics or politicians. 

He’s not surprised by wars or rumors of wars.

He’s not distracted, derailed, or dethroned. 

He’s not surprised by death. 

In my own life, as I take time to process the unexpected loss of a good friend, I trust fully that God was not taken aback. 

In fact, I find it significant and comforting to know that my friend completed the days that were assigned to him. I wish they were longer, but that’s just the unique position of heaven and earth. We’re here, and he is there. I wish that we could still be together. But I believe we’re both exactly where we are supposed to be. 

It’s hard to accept fully. And of course, there are questions. I love questions. And sometimes I hate questions. Because sometimes there are no answers. 

I understand wanting to ask why. 

Why did this happen? 

Why couldn’t he have been healed? 

Why couldn’t there be a miracle? 

I don’t have the answer to any of them. And frankly, I find little comfort in the asking. Because the asking somehow seems out of place. 

Personally, I feel overwhelmed with peace. Peace that God knew the exact number of days. Peace that he knew the exact moment that earthly days would end, and heavenly ones would begin. Peace that while we feel loss, Phil does not. Phil is fully whole, in ways that, for now, we can only long for. 

I feel peace that heaven is far, but heaven is close. 

So I’m not asking questions. Not now at least. Not yet. Maybe not at all. 

I’m thankful that while the sting of death is present now, it is not forever. I’m thankful for the deep comfort of knowing we will see Phil again. 

I had somewhere in my head imagined that Phil would still be our buddy when we were all old and gray, and the reality of that loss is hurtful and maddening. 

Heaven is far, but heaven is close. 

So we’ll carry on, in our earthen vessels, 

until we can all stand together again. 

And what a day that will be.

Peace I leave with you; My [perfect] peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your heart be troubled, nor let it be afraid. [Let My perfect peace calm you in every circumstance and give you courage and strength for every challenge.]

‭‭John‬ ‭14:27‬ ‭AMP

I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have [perfect] peace. In the world you have tribulation and distress and suffering, but be courageous [be confident, be undaunted, be filled with joy]; I have overcome the world.” [My conquest is accomplished, My victory abiding.]

‭‭John‬ ‭16:33‬ ‭AMP‬‬

Kayo Revere

Time to share the birth story of our littlest, Kayo Revere Madrid. 

It’s always so interesting to see how each pregnancy is so different. Of course there are similarities, but even so, each time around it’s completely individual and unique. 

I had started having contractions the last two weeks of pregnancy or so. It started with just a couple afternoons with Braxton Hicks, and then increased to every single day, contractions from the afternoon until I went to bed. With the other kids, I think I experienced a total of 4 Braxton Hicks contractions between the two, so this was totally new. 

Even though they were surprisingly strong (not painful, but strong), I eventually stopped paying any attention to them because they were so consistent. 

So finally we arrive at Wednesday, June 16. Officially 39 weeks (which is the most pregnant I have ever been, and I was not stoked about it) and I had a midwife appointment. She reassured me she highly doubted I would be pregnant for much longer, to which I HEARTILY agreed.

Secretly to myself, I really thought it was going to happen that day, but I didn’t say anything because I truly thought it might just be desperate, wishful thinking. 

A quick side note, this was by far my least favorite experience with pregnancy, not to complain, but just to give some insight on why I so desperately wanted to be done with it. 

Anyway. 

The day went on as normal, by mid afternoon the contractions were back and doing their usual thing, and I paid no attention to them whatsoever. We continued on our normal routine of dinner, spending time with the kids and their normal bedtime at 8pm. I showered after the kids went to bed, and still wasn’t thinking much about contractions. I was hoping they’d magically intensify, or my water would break, after the kids went to bed, but they seemed to just steady on.

I had been keeping Sam aware of the contractions every day, just in case something happened, but since it wasn't real labor there hadn’t been much to fuss over. As we were getting ready for bed, I commented that these contractions seemed to be pretty consistently strong, probably the strongest they’d been, but I still couldn’t tell if it was labor. He’s a smart guy and listened to his instincts and decided to not go into work the next morning, just to be safe. We went to bed like usual, so we could hopefully get some sleep if things did progress, although I had very little hope it would. 

As I laid in bed, the contractions were uncomfortable, so around 11pm I got up and just decided to do some small chores and watch a movie until I could fall asleep, or things progressed enough that I could tell it was real labor. So I folded the mountain of laundry that had been sitting around and cleaned up the kitchen. 

Around 1:30am, Sam got up and came out to the living room after realizing I wasn’t in bed. I’m sure it looked like I was obviously in labor as when he came out I was kneeling on the floor with my head resting on my hands on the couch, but it didn’t feel super intense to me, just uncomfortable. He asked if I had called the midwife (I had not), and asked what I thought. I still couldn’t really tell, but suggested we get things ready just to be safe. 

Sam kicked into high gear getting everything set up. He got out the birth box with all the supplies, set up the birth tub, washed our sheets, made the bed and handled everything while I just walked around the living room and kitchen trying to figure out if it was really labor. 

I realize it seems like it should be obvious, being as this is my third baby, but hold on, ok. First of all, it was confusing because the contractions were strong, and uncomfortable, but not so intense that I was positive it was labor. Secondly, their timing was also confusing. They would go from 3 minutes apart, to 10 minutes apart. Then drop down to 1-2 minutes apart, then jump back up to 8 minutes apart. It was really confusing, and I think I was nervous to hope it was really labor, only to find out it was just wishful thinking. Again, I realize this might sound dumb, but I was in the throes of desperate pregnancy brain, so cut me some slack. 

At 3am, I figured I should call my midwife, and just update her, and then we could figure out what to do. So I called her and told her how things were going and that I wasn’t really sure it was labor, but she was great and said she would come check immediately. That gave me some peace of mind, and even though I was still concerned that she would show up only to tell me it was not labor at all, or that it was but I was only a tiny bit dilated and it was going to be a long haul. 

Around 3:45am, everything intensified, and I was finally positive it was for sure labor. It takes my midwife about 40 minutes to an hour to get from her house to mine, and she had told me they would probably be there around 3:55am. It took them a little longer, so 3:55am came and went and I was getting a little nervous she wasn’t going to make it. The next 20 minutes kind of blur together for me, because the contractions were really intense (intense is just a nice word for painful, FYI), and it was impossible to think about anything else. 

For some reason, in my head I had thought I would wait for Karen (midwife) to get there to assess everything before filling up the tub and getting in. This was a rookie mistake. 

By 4:05am I knew things were going to happen quick. Poor Sam was rushing around trying to make sure everything was ready, and probably secretly willing Karen to get there so he wouldn’t have to deliver Kayo. Just kidding, he was solid as a rock, and would’ve handled it like a pro if he had to. 

I was starting to get that feeling like I wasn’t going to be able to do it, that slight panicky feeling, which I realized looking back was for sure transition, although I didn’t realize it at the moment. A really intense (read: painful) contraction hit as I was leaning on the island bar top counter, and I felt a crazy amount of pressure and then a pop and water gushed down my leg. Internally I was like, uh oh, cause I knew it was gonna happen fast and Karen wasn’t there. Literally at that moment, she knocked on the door. Sam let them in and she came in and set her stuff down. She asked me how I was doing and I managed to squeak out that my water had just broken. She said “great! Let’s check you” and turned to get some things out of her bag when I said “I think I need to push.” She said ok, and then things started to fly. She simultaneously called her assistant in from the car, washed her hands and put on gloves, while telling Sam to get my pants off because I hadn’t been able to do that yet. Contractions were hitting super fast, and Karen asked if I knew where I wanted to be. I couldn’t think of anything so I just squatted down right there on the kitchen floor. She went to check me and said “oh ok, well, we’re gonna have a baby. His head is right there. On the next contraction you can push.” 

At some point they put a birth stool under me, and I remember commenting how badly it hurt, which I realize sounds dumb, but in the moment what I really meant was maybe the position wasn’t right. Thankfully, Karen knew what I meant and asked if I wanted to move, but I just figured there was no point. 

For the record, and those who aren’t afraid of TMI, this was the only time I ever experienced the “ring of fire.” So...that’s unpleasant. 

I felt like I was pushing forever, only for Sam to inform me later it was 3 minutes. Let me just say, it felt a lot longer.  

But anyway, 3 minutes and 3 pushes later, Kayo came right out and he was literally perfect. 8lbs, 8oz and 21 inches (my biggest baby) of absolute perfection. 

Our midwife walked in the door at 4:10am and at 4:17am our sweet boy was born. Cutting it a little close, but she made it, and that’s really all I cared about. 

I will say, the home birth experience was amazing and if we have any more babies, I would totally do it again. 

It was awesome to be at home and do things the way we wanted. Thank you Lord for protecting us and for a completely smooth and simple delivery. 

It was so fun to be able to get the bigger kids up like normal in the morning and have them come meet their little brother. It was a totally family-centered experience, and exactly what I wanted, minus not making it into the birth tub. But like I said, that was my own rookie mistake. 

If you’re a mom feel free to reach out if you have any questions about home birth, I’m an open book and love birth. Let me know if I can help ease your mind! 

Abandoned

What makes me feel safe? 

I was thinking about this last night. 

I realized we often look to those around us for safety. We look to family, and friends; they become our refuge when we feel unsafe. When we need a haven or sanctuary, these are the people we turn to. 

And it was like Holy Spirit interrupted me. 

“What if you don’t have that?” 

I stopped. I rely on that safety. That even if people everywhere else don’t like me or write me off, I enjoy the refuge of family and friends that love me and know me. 

But what if I don’t have that? What if the only refuge I have is the Lord. What if the only approval I have is the Lord’s? 

Isn’t that what it’s supposed to be? 

Can I be ok if the only approval I have is His? 

Why is that the last one on my list? 

Let’s be honest. Approval feels good. We like it. It gives us confidence and boosts our ego. 

But I think trouble is quick to follow when we start looking around to see who agrees with us. 

In contrast, abandonment is hard. David talks about this in Psalm 27. In verse 10 he says, “Even if my father and mother abandon me, the Lord will hold me close.”

He was in the midst of it as he wrote these things. 

Jesus was betrayed by Judas, and abandoned in his most crucial hour by those closest to him. 

I’m realizing abandonment is a reality we must learn to live with. We must learn to walk through it and become whole again on the other side. We don’t limp forward, band-aiding up our bullet holes and hoping for the best. We don’t pretend they don’t exist, or act like they don’t hurt. 

We treat the whole wound. We go to the root. 

I’ve been abandoned by many relationships throughout the course of my life. It has been painful every time. Truthfully, it takes years to process this pain and subsequent healing.

It is not immediate. I’m still processing some of them. Still walking out the healing part. 

A few things need to be said about this kind of healing: 

• Forgiveness is everything. There is no healing without forgiveness.“Make allowance for each other’s faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others.” Colossians‬ ‭3:13‬ ‭

• Bitterness feels safe and can disguise itself as health- it’s not. Don’t fall for it. “Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor [perpetual animosity, resentment, strife, fault-finding] and slander be put away from you, along with every kind of malice [all spitefulness, verbal abuse, malevolence]. Be kind and helpful to one another, tender-hearted [compassionate, understanding], forgiving one another [readily and freely], just as God in Christ also forgave you.” Ephesians‬ ‭4:31-32‬ ‭

• Real love can overlook offenses because real love forgives. Real love is wise, and real love has boundaries. Real love knows what to guard and what can be given away. “Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.”‭‭ 1 Corinthians‬ ‭13:4-7‬ ‭

Jesus knew that Judas would betray him. He knew his disciples would deny him and leave him. He loved them anyway. He walked with them for the time they were assigned to be close. But Jesus knew in spite of betrayal and denial that the will of the Father was best. That made drinking the cup possible.* 

It made it bearable.

We have to learn that the best approval** we can have is the Lord’s. We have to learn that if everyone around us denies, abandons and forgets us, that He is enough. 

Because denial will happen. Betrayal will happen. 

But it doesn’t have to be the defining wound. It doesn’t have to be the line in the sand where we became jaded and bitter. 

It can be another place in the journey to really becoming holy. To really be like Jesus. 

Don’t give up in the bitter valley. Jesus is there, walking beside, bringing us into true wholeness and healing, if we’ll let him. 

* “Abba, Father,” he cried out, “everything is possible for you. Please take this cup of suffering away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.”‭‭ Mark‬ ‭14:36‬ ‭

**“Am I now trying to win the favor and approval of men, or of God? Or am I seeking to please someone? If I were still trying to be popular with men, I would not be a bond-servant of Christ.”

‭‭Galatians‬ ‭1:10‬ ‭AMP‬‬

Essa Mayne

Once again, I write for memory’s sake. I hate the idea of forgetting a moment in time so special and significant. 

We’ll rewind a bit, just to help get in the mindset of where we were. 

The majority of my pregnancy with Essa was really easy. Very little nausea, or discomfort the majority of the time. While fatigue was a constant and heartburn came with a vengeance; there was very little to complain about. 

That is until the last 5-6 weeks. Then it all seemed to kick into high gear. I went from being fine to suddenly being uncomfortable no matter what I did. Sitting, standing, lying down, it didn’t seem to matter; everything was miserable. 

Not to mention, with Sam leaving for a 10 week training academy 6 days after Essa’s due date, I was just ready to be DONE. 

So we’ll fast forward to February 6. To me, it was like every other stinking day going by, without a contraction in sight. At that point I had done everything possible to start labor, from jogging to scrubbing floors on my hands and knees to eating any spicy food I could get my hands on. Nothing seemed to do a thing. 

Sam had come home from work and we were sitting in the living room chatting when all of the sudden, I felt my water break. 

This was quite a different experience than with Lennox, as my water didn’t break until I was in the hospital already well into labor. 

I went to the bathroom just to make sure I hadn’t involuntarily peed myself (pregnancy sucks y’all), and was quite positive my water had broken. I came out and told Sam who sat there for a second before he asked “do we need to go to the hospital right now?” I laughed and said “no way, I’m not even having contractions.” 

So we waited. I finished packing my hospital bag and packed things for Lennox who would be going to spend the night at his grandparent’s house. Contractions started but were really nothing, so I didn’t worry too much. 

A couple hours later we headed into the hospital, handed Lennox off to Grandma (Eleanor), and went to get checked in. 

The nurse who checked us in informed us that it was busy night, and she was not kidding. We sat in triage from somewhere around 9:30pm-11:45pm before finally getting taken back to a room. 

I was rather annoyed because we sat in triage for so long, but mostly that labor did not seem to be progressing in any real way. 

Finally we got settled into our room, and we decided to try to sleep, since we didn’t know how quickly things would go. 

Unfortunately, I only closed my eyes for about 30 minutes before real contractions hit around 12:30am.  

I let Sam sleep as long as I could, but around 2am I woke him up. It was getting too intense to try to distract myself. As usual, he came in clutch and talked to me, told me stories and made me laugh as much as possible. 

I was SO tired around 3am, and momentarily considered getting an epidural just so I could sleep. But I quickly dismissed that thought and determined to stick it out. 

Around 3:55am the nurse came in and checked me and said I was about 7-8 centimeters dilated. She commented that I’d probably be having the baby in about an hour or so. That gave me serious hope. Haha. 

However, I kid you not, about 30 seconds after the nurse walked out of the room I sat up and told Sam “oh my gosh, I need to push.” 

He called the nurse ASAP who booked it back into the room and checked and was shocked to say I was at 10 centimeters. Quick side note, I had no idea you could jump from 7-8 to 10 centimeters in literally 30 seconds flat, but that’s a whole other thing.  The nurse then told me I needed to wait to push until the doctor came. This is my one GIANT frustration with hospital birth. I did not like being told to wait to push, and there was little direction on what to do while I was waiting. I lost track of how I was breathing and commented that my hands were going numb to which I was told “you’re not breathing.” Trying to connect that to something logical whilst being 10 centimeters dilated and told not to push is asking a lot. But somewhere in the midst of that rational thought kicked in and I started taking deep breaths again and the numbness disappeared.  After what seemed like an eternity (I’m sure it wasn’t) the doctor showed up and I got to push. 3 pushes and less than 5 minutes later, our perfect Essa was born. 

She was little and petite and exactly right for us. 

I said two things immediately after seeing her face the first time. The first was “she looks like Lennox!” and the second was “Babe, she is totally Essa.” That might sound dumb, but I like to see their faces before I know for sure if the name we picked out is right. As soon as we saw her, we knew her name was exactly right. 

All in all, it was a very simple birth. No complications, tears or anything else. Just funny, because it went so slow until it didn’t. There was nothing until it kicked in, and then it was high gear. I rather imagine that’s like our Essa girl.