I promise I began this post on your due date, Wells. It’s just that–you’re the fourth child and while I had every intention of writing the full story of your birth on your actual due date (since you came 8 days early!), it’s taken me a few additional days to write it down. And, to be honest, “To my Son, one week after your due date” just doesn’t have the same ring to it, you know what I mean?
Your story begins on February 11th. A Sunday night. Super bowl Sunday to be exact. There we were, your dad and I, sitting on the couch during half-time of the super bowl, when all of a sudden, you kicked me quite hard and part of my water broke. Now, I have been asked whether I was dancing to Usher’s halftime performance when my water broke, but the truth is much more uneventful–I was simply sitting. Probably wondering if I was going to get a glance of Taylor Swift when you decided you were ready to make your appearance.
I say that “part” of my water broke, because this wasn’t the buckets-of-gushing-water experience I have had with every other birth. The kind that left us to toss the sheets off our soaked bed when your eldest brother was born, turn on the ceiling fan and hope our bed was dry 2 days later when we came back–sort of water break. This was a smaller break but I was convinced none the less that it was time.
I was also super surprised because it was 9 days before my due date at that point. In the past month, I had been “furiously nesting” according to your dad. I had thought you might come early, so I had this long list of things to prepare before you did. What really kicked this fury into gear was a few weeks earlier when I had a non-stress-test done by my midwife and she said I was having contractions that I couldn’t feel and that I could have baby that night or any day leading up to your due date. I went home and packed the hospital bags that night.
And I’m glad that I did because even though I was expecting your early arrival, breaking my water during the super bowl was just not what I had expected. I was nervous. A bit shaky to be honest for my fourth labor. We began to throw last minute things into bags, called our friends from community group to watch the baby monitors until Matt’s parents arrived, and drove to the hospital.
When my water broke it was around 8:50pm, and I had felt zero contractions leading up to it. Even afterwards, I barely felt any contractions. But the past two of my labors had taught us that when my water breaks, baby arrives within 5 minutes, so the 30 minute drive to the hospital felt nerve wracking. We made it to the hospital, settled into a room, and when my midwife checked my progress I was only 2 centimeters dilated. She also still felt that part of my bag of waters was intact, questioning whether my water had in fact broken at home or not. They tested for amniotic fluid and found that my water had definitely broken but it was a high leak (and thank goodness it had broken, otherwise, I would have been sent home).
She suggested we labor in the hospital through the night, trying things like walking and pumping to stimulate contractions. So until about 7am the next morning, that’s what we did–walked up and down the halls, pumped, used the birthing ball–all the while experiencing increasing contractions. When the midwife checked me again that morning (8 hours after we arrived) I was only 3 cm dilated.
I’m not going to lie, I was pretty discouraged at that point. Most of my labors had been 9 hours in total, so to have made barely any progress after an entirely sleepless night felt difficult. The midwives and nurses switched shifts at 8am and I was super grateful. I needed some new encouragement from my birth team. When the new midwife on shift, Michelle, came in, she suggested we fully break my bag of water. It was a non-invasive way to keep labor moving and she had a great deal of confidence that it would be just what I needed. At 8:50am, 12 hours after you kicked my water the first time, Michelle broke the rest of it and there was my–buckets of gushing water–moment I had been waiting for.
The next 3 hours leading up to your birth were the real hard work. Contractions intensifying, your dad and I labor-swaying through each one. My birth team set up a tub so I could labor in the water, and while we were waiting for it to be ready, my midwife used some “spinning babies” techniques to help me breathe through contractions in different positions. It was something I hadn’t tried before and really helpful for breathing through the pain.
By the time the tub was full, I was definitely ready for it–at the point in labor during transition when you feel like you can’t go on. The warm water felt so relaxing and helpful that it momentarily stalled my labor. I rested there for a few minutes getting to take a few breaths before contractions picked up again and I started to feel the need to push. And there, in the tub, at 11:51am, after a few pushes during contractions, you, our Wells, were born. I was able to pull you out of the water myself, which was amazing. After 15 hours of labor, we finally met. You weighed 7 lbs 12oz and arrived the day before my birthday–the day before I turned 35.
The grace of the Lord was all over your birth, baby boy. The morning that I went into labor, I was spending time with Jesus and read Isaiah 41. Verse 10 really stuck out to me, and I wrote it down to remember for when I might go into labor. Little did I know, I would cling to this verse through that very night and into the next morning until you were born.
“So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10
That verse played like an anthem through my mind as I labored until meeting you and it was an anchor for my heart through those 15 hours. Had you come on your due date, we would have been thrilled and ready to meet you, but the kindness of the Lord was really on display through your early arrival. You see, one year ago, on February 13th, I had miscarried what would have been our fifth baby. To be able to hold you in my arms on February 13th and celebrate your arrival, felt like a full-circle moment for me. Our rainbow baby, here and thriving on the anniversary of our loss.
In Scripture, your name “Wells” means wellspring of salvation, and your middle name “Michael” means gift of God. This perfectly describes who you are to us–our gift from God. Happy one week after your due date, sweet Wells! We’re so thankful to call you ours.
