A Not-So-Silent Night: Frank’s Birth Story

Our maternity photos ended up being newborn photos since he arrived a month early.

In 2020, I was due with our firstborn son on Nov. 5, but on Thursday, Oct. 8, I went in for a checkup. Just in case, she checked my dilation. I was 3.5 cm, and she told me that could mean I still had weeks to go, or I might have the baby that weekend. I was excited at the thought of having to deal with pregnancy one less month, but it also seemed unlikely given my family’s history of past-due births.

Well, at 9:28 pm on Friday, Oct. 9 we were visiting with our friends Haley and Brennan at home when my water broke spontaneously. I had so many things left on my pre-baby to-do list including packing a hospital bag, so we got right to work. After packing everything I thought I would need (which ended up not being enough), I sat down to attempt timing the contractions.

A slow start

I barely felt them. They were just slight, tight pulls across my belly, but there was no real consistency to them. “Maybe I’ll just be one of those women who don’t feel much pain in labor,” I thought optimistically. Ha! My mom came over and suggested I get some rest and continue laboring at home until the contractions picked up. In hindsight, I really wish we had done this. We needed the rest. But, as first-time parents, with me continuing to lose more and more water, we decided to go on in.

My friend Sarah came by to bring me the car seat she was giving us – after all, they don’t let you leave the hospital without one! The four of them prayed over us before we left. I was so grateful for that time of prayer, especially since only Trey would be able to support me in the hospital.

We hadn’t yet typed up a “birth plan,” but I had done enough research and reading to know the basics of what I wanted: unmedicated, warm showers and counter-pressure to relieve pain, dim lighting with Christmas lights and essential oils diffusing for comfort, lots of walking, movement, and bouncing on a birthing ball. My sister gave me comfy birthing gowns and my friend sent oils to use for pain management.

I blame the hurricane

Apparently, several of the patients at my OBGYN and midwife went into labor spontaneously the same weekend as me. There was a hurricane, and they suspect the barometric pressure dropping suddenly is what did it.

I started to get uncomfortable right around the time we arrived at the hospital, which was quickly made worse by bright fluorescent lights and an IV being stuck in my arm. I didn’t want continuous fetal monitoring, but because he was early or because my water had already broke (can’t remember exactly), they insisted. We compromised by doing it intermittently. They told me to settle in and rest if I could, so that’s what we did. I think I slept for a few hours, and sometime later things started getting intense.

Attempted unmedicated labor

While it came on slowly in the beginning, the pain of the rest of the day made up for lost time. Since my water was mostly gone, there was no cushion for the contractions as they came. It was all back labor, too, which was horribly painful. At one point I was able to sing Psalm 34 through some contractions (recommend in one of many natural childbirth books I read), but more frequently let out primal, guttural yells.

I was walking, having Trey apply counter-pressure when it really hurt, and getting hot showers when I could. I was moving along very slowly, but the pain was excruciating and I’m afraid my nightmarish screams let everyone on our floor know it.

The common grace of medication

“You’re doing everything right,” a kind nurse assured me, but alas – we live in a fallen world. So, after 19 hours and no end in sight - I was stuck at 6 cm - I chose to have an epidural.

By the time I requested this I was an absolute wreck from the pain. I was having a severe panic attack and everything was terrifying, particularly the thought of a very large needle being inserted into me during one of the painful contractions I couldn’t sit still through. Minutes after they gave it me, the nurse asked if I could feel my contraction. I broke down in tears from sheer relief. I could barely feel it at all. What mercy! I thank God for the common grace of medication.

I could finally rest! Praise God.

The next three hours were spent relaxing and sort of napping as best I could. Trey, who was a massive help with all the counter-pressure on my back, and constant verbal encouragement, was finally able to rest, too. In a spirit of commiseration, he hadn’t eaten anything at all and was rightfully worn out.

When it came time to push, the epidural was ineffective, and the panic attack came back full force. Trey had turned the Alabama game on, and it was highly motivating to me in my weariness (23 hours in!) to watch the athletes give it their all on the field while I pushed. I needed the inspiration; it took an hour for me to push his broad little shoulders out with no water left to help him along.

Toward the end, the nurse asked if I wanted to reach down and feel his head and though I was a bit reluctant, I’m so glad I did. Finally feeling him was all the motivation I needed to keep going when I so badly felt like giving up. He finally came and the relief was enormous. They placed him on my chest at last and while I was excited for a minute, the panic attack was still pumping, breastfeeding wasn’t working, and I was feeling very overwhelmed wishing someone would take him from me but felt too guilty to ask.

Holding him at last! But really struggling.

NICU stay & unceasing mercies

Soon enough, the nurses took him to clean him up, weigh him, etc. and then informed us that since he was premature, it was protocol for him to go to the NICU for 4 hours. After this period, they would determine if he was healthy enough to stay with us or remain in the NICU. They mentioned his breathing didn’t sound quite right – a common occurrence for babies born before the 37-week mark, especially boys.

I am still amazed at the week-by-week precision of God’s design for babies’ development. Had he been born just a week later, his lungs would have likely been fine. But God had other plans for our beginnings as a family of 3 and so our baby was admitted to the NICU.

We were shocked by this news. Long before he was conceived, we had his name picked: Thomas Franklin Walding IV, called “Frank” after my late grandfather. We thought we would spend our days in the hospital, snuggled up in our room as a family and getting lots of sweet cuddles and photos. Instead, the LORD was working something better in our hearts through the prolonged suffering ahead. I had no idea how painful and vulnerable those first few days in the hospital are for new moms, and I wonder how and why anyone would want visitors. Maybe that’s just my experience.

I had a second-degree tear with stitches, but that was truly the least of my worries compared to all the other body aches and pains, lack of sleep, and emotional trauma. I had a pelvic floor injury that wasn’t diagnosed until about 5 weeks postpartum, so I could barely walk. I had to be wheelchaired to and from the NICU most of the time during the 3 days we were there, although I was encouraged to walk as much I could.

The purpose of suffering

Through it all, God refined our hearts in a way only suffering can. Trials produce perseverance. He taught us a deep level of empathy for other NICU parents. We visited him round the clock, leaving only to sleep, shower, pump, and for shift changes. It was miserable having to ask permission to see our own baby – not sure if this is standard protocol or covid measures, but we hated it. My poor nurses could hardly ever find me to give me my medication and postpartum care since I was so bent on being with him.

The hours spent in the NICU were the best pain relief possible. I held him skin to skin (a powerful comfort for mom & baby) while I sang “A Mother’s Prayer” and tried to breastfeed. Throughout my pregnancy, I sang him that song and it was such a precious gift to have it memorized to sing to him there – the lyrics were edifying to me and the sound comforting to him. We were released after a 3-day stay, and so thrilled to go home together.

I could write so much more about the ever-unfolding mercies of God throughout my pregnancy, the timing of his conception and birth, and more. Even in the hard times, He is good. I’m a firm believer that God is in the details so that’s why I shared so many of them here. More could be said but know this: we groan now, but glory is coming.

“For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies (Romans 8:22-23).”