As I’ve processed through all of that I feel like God gave me a small gift, He reminded me of the prayers I wrote for each of my children before they were born.

It’s been truly moving for me to think back over those words and prayers. And I’ve found it so encouraging that even as I’ve had to change my expectations for Sage the core words and images that I was given for her before she was born have not changed. The things I prayed most for her before she was born are still the things I pray for her now. The core desires I had for who she would become don’t need to change at all by this diagnosis.

With each of my children I had a few words that were particularly important as I thought about the person I desired them to be. And with each of my children I had a picture of who they are before they were ever born. It’s been interesting (and affirming) to me that Sage’s diagnosis hasn’t changed or effected my words for her. It has also been very touching for me that Sage’s diagnosis has actually made my words/visions for my son take on new life and meaning.

Sage’s words/images:

• Joy
• Light
• intuitive wisdom
• images of nature and particularly the sky and moon
• “she will restore to you the joy of your salvation”

(you can see how these words play out and connect to one another by reading the prayer I wrote for Sage when she was first born)

Thaddeus’s words/images:

• protector (“protect him that he might protect others”)
• empathetic
• courageous heart
• heart felt, passionate
• guard (not the soldier charging into battle but the soldier staying back, standing guard, protecting the women and children, not out of cowardice, but conviction)
• defender of the weak
• protector of those who cannot protect themselves

(read the prayer I wrote for Thad to learn more about our desires for him)

The pictures I had for each of my children were so different from each other, and I can see now how appropriate that was on so many levels. They are very different little people.

Sage’s diagnosis has changed a lot about how I think about her future and the expectations I have for her. But (so far) it hasn’t at all changed these core words/images I pray for her or for my son. If anything it has only added a new depth to how I pray over both of my children.

I’m grateful for these images and I look forward to seeing how they play out in both of my children’s lives.

Rejoicing in the journey,

Bethany Stedman

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My daughter was diagnosed with microcephaly three months ago at her two month well check. Ever since then we have felt extremely unsure about what this would mean for her and for us and what we could do to help her. This week I feel like we began to get some answers, not answers about the future (diagnosis’s, predictions, etc), but answers about the present. We began to get the support that will help us know how to best help our daughter grow and flourish on a day-to-day basis. And (as we’re slowly realizing) those are the answers that really matter.

The whole world of early intervention and special needs services is completely foreign to me and I felt so nervous and unsure as we took our first floundering steps into this new realm. But, once we actually met with our Family Resource Coordinator I felt so relieved and encouraged and grateful that we had been directed to get this help now while Sage is still so young.

The organization that offers early intervention services for birth to age three in our area is called The Little Red School House. They send an occupational therapist to evaluate Sage and meet with us last week. Because we already had a diagnosis of microcephaly Sage automatically qualified for the program and from what I understand the evaluation was more for determining where she’s at developmentally. The whole thing was so much more comfortable and encouraging than I had anticipated. As we had been warned, there was a lot of paper work to do, but most of the time was spend just talking about Sage.

I really liked the approach that The Little Red School House takes to equip and support the parents, believing that the parents know the child best and are in the best position to help the child. I also liked that they don’t want to inundate the families with tons of appointments and lots of different specialists, instead they have one person (our Family Resources Coordinator) who will meet with us regularly (as regularly as we need). And then if their are questions or problems that are better suited for a specific specialist she can take those to her team of specialists at the school house and have them instruct her or if necessary bring them in to work with Sage. I liked that approach a lot, it seemed much less invasive or overwhelming.

I also felt a huge sigh of relief to learn that our FRC is able to offer some alternative remedies and has not only been working in occupational therapy for about thirty years, but also studied massage and acupressure. She said not all of her families want to utilize alternative options, but she wanted us to know about some of the different alternative remedies she could offer. Obviously I am very interested in alternative medicine and some of the therapies she talked about sounded fascinating. For example there was one she talked about where they use a tuning fork and different pitches that corespondent to different meridian lines (like in acupuncture – but without the needles), can’t remember what it’s called though.

Anyway, the whole experience was really positive and encouraging and I’m really looking forward to the support that this organization will be able to offer my sweet little girl over the next three years. Our next meeting will be next week and it’s when we will create our Individualized Family Service Plan (IFSP), which from what I understand is essentially a document stating our desire for Sage over the coming year and a plan to achieve it and what services will help us get there.

I’m excited to start this journey into early intervention. It feels good to know that there are things we can do and tools we can utilize that could help Sage. And it feels good that we won’t have to go at it alone. Someone will guide us through the process from here and help lead us to the best resources for the specific special needs of our baby.

I’m feeling very grateful for these things today.

Rejoicing in the journey,

Bethany Stedman

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I told Bryan recently that I feel like we are finally starting to come into our own. I feel like we are settling into who we are at this moment in our lives. I keep thinking of this quote from Carl Rogers,

“Becoming a Person means that the individual moves toward being, knowingly and acceptingly, the process which he inwardly and actually is… He is not trying to be more than he is, with the attendant feelings of insecurity or bombastic defensiveness. He is not trying to be less than he is, with the attendant feelings of guilt or self-depreciation. He is increasingly listening to the deepest recesses of his psychological and emotional being, and finds himself increasingly willing to be, with greater accuracy and depth, that self which he most truly is.”

I feel like we have sort of been experiencing that a little bit. I feel like we have been settling into the selves that we most truly are.

This feeling of settling into ourselves has, for me, also extended to my appearance. A settling into my own skin, you could say. Recently when I look in the mirror I have had the shocking and refreshing experience of thinking, “I look like who I am.” I don’t think I look like my ideal self, or the cultural ideal that I carry around. But, I do feel like what I see in the mirror fits well with the rolls and personas I actually am at this moment in time. I look in the mirror and I see an almost thirty year old mom of two. I see a wife who’s been happily married long enough to know that no marriage is completely happy or secure and long enough to be more secure than ever in her relationship with her husband. I see stretch marks and an untoned belly and instead if thinking “ugh, I hate myself”, I think, “yeah, I am a mom and that fits.”

I say that this has been a shocking and refreshing experience because it’s an experience I’ve never had before. Ive never liked what I saw in the mirror, but more than that I didn’t feel like it fit. You see I’ve often felt like I didn’t look like myself when I looked in the mirror, didn’t look like I imagined myself looking, didn’t look like my age (once when I was 23 years old a flight attendant thought I was under 16 and told me I couldn’t sit in the emergency row – true story), didn’t look like the person I wanted to be or felt liked I was deep down.

I think some of this was due to a lack of deep acceptance for the person I am, as well as holding onto identities that were not really me, or at least not yet me, or not fully me. My whole life, when I’ve looked in the mirror I’ve always been a little disappointed in what I saw. This was, of course, partly because I faced the same media messages about beauty and femininity that all women face. But, I think it was also partly because my image of myself, or, at least, the self I desired to be, didn’t match up with the self that I actually was in that particular moment. I always felt older or younger than I looked. I always felt that the image in the mirror didn’t fit the roles and personas I held for myself in my head. Until recently.

For the first time in my life I feel like I’m settling into my own skin. I feel like I know who I am right now and, for the most part, I have a deep peace about the roles I am playing, the place I am at in life, and the direction I am heading. For the first time in my life questions like “who am I?” “what’s my purpose or role in life?” “what am I suppose to be doing with my life?” aren’t in the forefront of my mind and aren’t shaping my identity. Phew! What a relief!

It feels good to be in this place. It feels open and spacious and exciting. We are settling down, but we are not settling into mediocrity, we are settling into ourselves.

Rejoicing in the journey -
Bethany Stedman

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I hadn’t realized how nervous I was feeling about Sage’s MRI until I woke up in the night to nurse her and couldn’t get back to sleep afterwards. I just stared at her as she slept beside me. I knew an MRI was the next step we needed to take, but the thought of my baby under general anesthesia of course made me nervous.

In the morning before we left I was a flurry of nervous mommy energy, darting this way and that as I tried to get us out the door. I felt so grateful that my in-laws had taken Thad the night before (his first ever sleep over) and I didn’t have to deal with a two year old along with everything else. There have been so many moments lately when I send up silent thoughts of gratitude that we now live close to family for this season of our lives.

And then we arrived at Seattle Children’s.

And again I said a quick prayer of gratitude that we live where we do. We always had pretty positive experiences with medical things in Prague, and felt well taken care of the few times we went to Prague hospitals for various reasons. But, there is something unimaginably calming when you walk nervously into a hospital building and are quickly greeted by people and signs that speak your language. There was no guess work, there was no translating. Sigh of relief.
But, Seattle children’s wasn’t just a good hospital experience because it was in English. I felt like it was a good hospital experience compared with others in the states as well. Everything was very well organized and structured, the building was clean and even beautiful in places. You could tell things had been well thought through. And well thought though with kids in mind. For example, this was the fun, inviting playground outside our window.

Most of all though, everyone was just so friendly. People smiled and greeted us in the halls and asked if we needed help finding anything (that never happened in Prague hospitals). The doctors working with us really wanted to put us at ease. The anesthesiologist talked with us for quite a while, answering our questions, explaining what they would do, and even sharing stories about his own kids to help put us at ease. They were all very understanding and helpful.

When it came time they brought us and Sage to a prep area. We were able to hold her hand and be with her as they put her under. It was amazing to me how quickly she fell asleep. She looked so peaceful and still. We both gave her a kiss and then went up to Starbucks to wait.

We got back to our room about forty minutes after we left her and waited for them to bring her back in, which wasn’t very long. When she got back she had a breathing tube in her nose. They had her hooked up to a machine to monitor her heart rate and all that. They took her temperature and did a heel prick to check her blood sugar. Everything looked good. She looked so small alone in the little bed. She shivered, we tucked the blanket closer around her. She looked beautiful.

They told us that as soon as she woke up we could hold her and I could nurse her. We waited. They said she should wake up soon. We waited. An hour went by. We waited. That period of waiting for her to wake up was probably the hardest for me. I was glad for the equipment monitoring her and that the doctors regularly checked on her. Eventually she woke up and was starving. We cuddled and nursed.

They wanted to monitor her till 1pm. So we sat and read and cuddled and nursed. Apart from not being completely comfortable those few hours felt a little like a vacation to me. I didn’t have to do dishes, or laundry, or entertain a toddler, or listen to “mommy!mommy!” being screamed at me. Instead I got to just cuddle with my baby and talk and read with my husband for two hours. That part of the day was really nice.

Really the whole experience went as well as it possibly could have. The only negative was that we weren’t able to get an appointment with the neurologist until April. So, as of right now, we won’t know the results of the MRI until then. It’s a little frustrating to have gone through the stress of the MRI and know that there is information available about my daughters condition, but to still not know what that on formation is until April.

We were at least able to get a print out of the report and a cd of the MRI. We are thinking since we have the results we will try and see if we can get into a different neurologist to have someone interpret the results for us sooner. Or…anyone reading this know how to understand brain MRIs??

Whatever happens I find myself being continually reminded to take life one day at a time and to take this change in perceptions and expectations about my daughter one little piece of information at a time.

Rejoicing in the journey,
Bethany Stedman

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On Friday we braved the snow and slush and went to Seattle Children’s Hospital for another neurologist appointment for Sage. It was the first appointment we had about her microcephaly where the doctor didn’t say, “well, it could be nothing…” the neurologist we saw was thorough, asking a lot of questions and spending a lot of time looking at Sage, checking her reflexes and movements. He was straight forward and clear, telling us that he definitely saw enough to concern him. He told us that her head is now 2.8 deviations and that since her weight and height are on the growth chart it’s called disproportionate microcephaly. He recommended an MRI, saying that it was the best place to start figuring out what is going on and would give us some direction.

And then it happened… He told us he thought we should start having someone work with her and getting her some early therapy. Then he gave us a packet for “children with special needs” It made my head spin…”special needs” I knew Sage had microcephaly. I knew there was a chance that she would have some delays, and although I knew that label was a possibility I hadn’t really imagined it or truly thought of my child as having special needs until that moment.

It was like a reality check for me.

Suddenly I was reminded of when I took a class in college on Teaching Children with Special Needs. I remember feeling convinced during that class, with an irrational intuition, that I was going to have a child with special needs. And I remember begging God to not let that happen. Now I look at Sage and I can’t imagine asking God that I wouldn’t have her and can’t imagine having any other child. But, I still wish I knew for certain that she would be able to live a completely full functioning, “normal” life. But, I knew in that moment that wasn’t a certainty I could have. It may yet turn out that way, but there’s enough concerns that I have to come to terms with the fact that it might not.

I sat there a minute a little stunned still by the term “special needs”.

I couldn’t deny it anymore. I couldn’t justify the fact that she hasn’t met her milestones. I couldn’t keep holding on to the “well, it could be nothing” statements.

All along I have sort of known this was coming. I knew something wasn’t normal. Not in the way you know that two plus two equals four but with an intuitive sort of knowing.

When she was six weeks old I had a vivid dream within a dream where things kept threatening Sage and I had to fight for her and protect her. At the most vivid part I saw a number of wasps and hornets stinging Sage. I woke up still in the dream and preceded to dream that everything that had happened in the dream within a dream was happening in real life. It was after having this dream that I knew we had to schedule Sage’s first well visit with the pediatrician.

Maybe it’s bad for me to say it but I’m glad that we didn’t go in earlier, glad that we had those two months of ignorance, to just be with Sage, bond with her and get to know her. Being able to bond with her without the uncertainties of microcephaly hanging over our head was precious and I’m grateful for it.

But, as we sat with the neurologist I knew that the time of denial was over. It was time for a new season. Time to grow up and face my new reality. Time to do the research. Time to make the phone calls. Time to get the help. Time to do whatever we can to make sure that my special little girl can have the best life possible.

On February 2nd Sage will have an MRI of her head and spine. It will be under general anesthesia. If you pray, pray for her safety, pray that we get the best possible answers, pray that we are able to get the results back quickly (as it is right now our follow up with neurology isn’t able to be scheduled until April – we don’t want to wait that long) and pray that we have no problem getting the MRI pre-approved with our insurance.

Rejoicing in the journey,
Bethany Stedman

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You see I have a problem. I avoid looking good, hid from feeling attractive, run from the feminine.  Time and time again I show a lack of value for myself as a created daughter of Divinity. I essentially say to God, “I don’t want to take care of what you created, I don’t want to acknowledge or live up to the potential you created in me. I think you messed up a bit when you made me and I’m not worth the care or attention of others or myself.” hum, doesn’t sound so good when I put it that way, but of course when I make the little decisions each day I don’t put it that way.

I can remember when I stopped wearing makeup. Ironically enough many women hide behind makeup, but for me stopping wearing make up was when I first started to hide my feminine potential. Now don’t get me wrong I’m not pro-make up at all. I think the chemicals we regularly cover our faces with are unhealthy and unnecessary, but I realized something recently about when I stopped wearing make up. It was right after I started to notice I was getting attention from boys. It’s when I really realized that I had feminine beauty and power… and that terrified me. I was scared of that beauty, scarred of that power. Scared that I had it… and scared that I would discover I didn’t have it. So, I decided to avoid the question. I started to stop trying. Small blow after small blow to my self esteem and I started to hide more, until eventually I was rolling out of bed and wearing pajamas to class. A kid later and I was only showering twice a week. Two kids later and I’ve stopped brushing my hair and pretty much only ever wear sweats or yoga pants.

Back in high school when I first started drawing attention, and first stopped wearing makeup because of the fear that attention stirred up in me, there was something else going on too. Something that I now think was slightly sinister. Growing up in a conservative Christian environment I was starting to hear voices that (at least in my head) equated looking good and being attractive with “sin”, or at least less than godliness. Sex was of course “wrong”, dating was “wrong” (I was in high school when “I kissed dating goodbye” was popular), looking seductive or in anyway drawing attention to your body or looks was “wrong”, and so I started to get this message that something must be wrong with beauty, attractiveness, and the feminine. Being in touch with and expressing your feminine beauty was dangerous. I

But, the truth of the matter is that I am feminine and I want to be beautiful and attractive.  I run from it, even with my husband, scared that I’m not beautiful or attractive I try to act like I don’t care. Scared l am beautiful, attractive and powerful I “let myself go”. Scared that if I tried I’d fail….but also scared that if I tried I’d succeed. I know it sounds like a dichotomy, but I think most women would understand what I mean (right??? or is it just me??).

How do dreadlocks tie into all this? Well, I think in some ways they are another way to hide. Instead of embracing my long, naturally wavy hair and taking the time to value and care for it, I have just let it go, especially over the past year. Dreadlocks would in some ways be a way for me to deal with this problem without really having to take care of myself. But, for me, dreadlocks would also be another decision to run and hide. You see my hair has often been a source of compliments for me, at least when I take care of it. I think choosing dreadlocks would be a way of running from those compliments as well as running from the lack of compliments I’ve had lately as I have stopped taking care of my hair and only ever wear buns. Not that I don’t think dreadlocks can be beautiful – I think some people can really pull it off and look beautiful with them. And I wonder if maybe I could too. My husband thinks I could and has decided he thinks they’d look good and wants me to try them. But, for me, dreadlocks wouldn’t be a decision to embrace looking good and taking care of myself. They wouldn’t be a way to embrace my beauty.

In choosing dreadlocks I would be choosing to say yet again, I am not worth spending 5 minutes on. I am not valuable enough to spend the time taking care of myself. And that is a message I would like to stop sending myself. It’s a message I would like to stop sending my children as well. I want my children to know that they are loved and cared for that they are valuable, but I also want them to know that every other human being is valuable too…and that includes mommy! And valuable human beings deserve to be taken care of…even mommies!

I think after writing all this I know what I have to do, I have to get a hair cut and start taking care of myself. I owe it to myself, and to my family. I’m not really doing them any favors by not taking care of myself. I want to teach my children that they are valuable and worth taking care of – that every human being is beautiful, powerful, and valuable. I want my daughter to know that she is beautiful and that it is ok for her to let that beauty show, she doesn’t have to be scared of her attractiveness or her femininity. I want my son to know that every woman is beautiful and deserves to be taken care of, that his power does not diminish or dominate hers, that he cannot force his needs above hers. Maybe a small step I can take towards teaching them that is starting to believe it more myself, by taking small active steps toward valuing myself and my own unique beauty.

Rejoicing in the journey -
Bethany Stedman

PS – if you want to read some great thoughts from another momma thinking about beauty and pleasure and taking care of yourself visit my friend, Vina’s blog, A Nourishing Home.

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Its nap time. Thad’s asleep and Sage is is also drifting in and out of consciousness. As I sit here with images from the morning dancing around in my head I’m wishing I had a reset button. I wish i could change this morning, I wish I could change almost all of the ways I’ve interacted with my son in the past twenty four hours. But, I can’t.

…But, every now and then I feel so insecure, I know that I just need you like I’ve never done before…

As I sit here I kept thinking about these two prayers I wrote when Thad was little. I just read them again and this sentence jumped out and almost screamed at me, “I need you to show me what is really required of me so that I don’t heap unneeded guilt upon my own shoulders or the shoulders of those around me.” I realized as I read these prayers how desperately I need God to infiltrate my parenting, especially in this area of guilt and the expectations I place upon myself.

Help me if you can I’m feeling down, and I do appreciate you being round.

This morning there was a moment when I hid in the bed room and cried for a minute, when I thought to myself, “I need someone to talk me off a cliff…” I almost called a friend, but it was six thirty in the morning and even though my day had started two hours earlier I knew not everyone else’s had, and besides the courage it would take to make that phone call and admit I needed help – not I had needED help, but I need help, right then and there, before sunrise kind of help…well… that’s not the kind of thing you’re really suppose to ask someone for. So, I sent up a desperate prayer, “Lord, help me.”

Help me get my feet back off the ground, won’t you please, please help me.

And slowly, quietly help came, not in the way I’d wanted but in a gentle shifting, it came.

Something sunk in for me in a new way today – the power of the present moment. I was sitting here regretting my actions of the morning, a little upset with myself that I hadn’t worked up the courage to call for help, and I realized afresh that what I was dwelling on was futile and emotionally detrimental to my health. I can’t push a reset button. I can’t change the parent I was in the past…but, I don’t have to let that influence, and even dictate, the rest of the day or the parent I’ll be in the future. I can choose to dwell on my feelings of guilt, to hold up an image of myself as “the worse mom ever”, or I can choose to reset my attitude and focus. I can’t start over, but I can start anew from this moment.

Most days I’m not who I want to be or where I want to be, but I’m realizing (slowly) that I don’t need to be. I am me, here and now, the best me I have ever been, and I am becoming.

…But, now I find I’ve changed my mind and opened up the doors.

Rejoicing in the journey -
Bethany Stedman

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I’ve also realized lately that both my son and I do WAY better when we have some clear structure and routine in our lives. We both like knowing what to expect. I think also with all the change we’ve had lately – a new sibling and living somewhere new every couple of months for the past year and now moving again two more times before the end of the year – more structure would help both Thaddeus and I to feel a bit more secure.

In addition to that I’ve noticed Thaddeus is really wanting and needing some more mental stimulation. He’s started to really take notice of letters. He can sing the ABC’s without missing any letters and whenever he sees the alphabet written somewhere he gets excited and says “ABC!” He loves to count and can count to ten now as well, but I’m not sure if he totally has a concept of what the numbers mean. He doesn’t recognize written numbers, but seems interested in them. I think he would really enjoy and benefit from some more active, focused learning.

So, in light of all those thoughts I’ve decided to put together a more structured schedule for us over the next few weeks and see how it goes. It’s nothing by the clock, more of a rough focus for each day with one daily structured activity and two daily outings of some sort. Here’s what I’ve come up with for this week (of course this is subject to change).

Number of the week: 1
Letter of the week: a
Word of the week: apple

Ideas for incorporating these into our lives: give him one whole apple for snack instead of apple slices and talk about how it is one apple and apple starts with a. When we play play dough make the letter and number of the week. Whenever there is 1 of anything point it out. When out and about point out words that start with ‘a’ and the number 1 when we see them. Make applesauce. Incorporate sign language by signing the word of the week whenever we talk about it.

Monday October 17:

Weekly Coloring Activity: color a cut out of the number and letter of the week & write out the word of the week to put on the fridge
Morning Outing: walk around the neighborhood
Planned Activity: colander sculptures
materials needed: colander and pipe cleaners
Afternoon Outing: library – get books about apples
Prep: freeze discovery ice block

Tuesday October 18:

Morning Outing: breakfast (w/ my sister and toddler?)
Planned Activity: edible finger paints
material: corn starch, sugar, water, food coloring, paper (or powdered milk, water, food coloring)
Afternoon Outing: park (w/ cousins?)

Wednesday October 19:

Morning Outing: (see planned activity)
Planned Activity: nature walk
materials: egg cartoon to collect things in
Afternoon Outing: go to the midwife’s and chiropractor

Thursday October 20:

Morning Outing: walk around neighborhood
Planned Activity: discovery ice block
materials: large block of ice with toys frozen in it, hammer, sponge, other utensils to hit, rub, and manipulate the ice
Afternoon Outing: play date with Melissa

Friday October 21:

Morning Outing: walk to bagel place for breakfast
Planned Activity: apple prints
materials: apples, left over edible finger paint, paper
Afternoon Outing: park (play date?)

Saturday and Sunday October 22 and 23: fun with family and sage’s blessing ceremony. Go to church with sage for the first time?

So, that’s the plan for the next week.

What do you think? Any suggestions for me? Have any of you ever done anything like this?

Rejoicing in the journey -
Bethany Stedman

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I felt weak, scared and tired. I didn’t feel like “one tough mamma.” Shell kept saying, “you’re so strong.” But, I didn’t believe her, I couldn’t believe her. I didn’t feel strong. I felt weak, in fact I felt all of the weaknesses and inadequacies that I’d wrestled with ever since becoming a mother two years ago come rushing over me. I felt like I couldn’t do it… and so I couldn’t. I didn’t really want to push her out. I was scared of feeling “that pain” again. I was scared of bleeding too much (as I had with Thaddeus). I was scared that she would be just as difficult as Thad was and scared that I wouldn’t be able to handle having two kids. I was scared that the pain was going to continue forever and just wanted it to be over, but I didn’t want to go through the only door that would make the pain stop.

Finally, I muttered out something about feeling discouraged. Shell decided to do an internal to see what was going on. I remember her putting her fingers against my coccyx on the inside and telling me that was where the baby needed to go, that I needed to push the baby into that space. I knew she was right and I tried to do what she was asking, but it was a half hearted attempt. As soon as she had touched that area I was flooded with the muscle memory of Thad’s birth, I remembered that spot and the pain it took to push Thad past it (Thad had gotten stuck at my coccyx since it hadn’t moved out of the way like it should have, Shell had to pull it out of the way and we are pretty sure I either broke or bruised it during that labor). The memory of that felt so tangible and I couldn’t bring myself to push past it.

It was at this point that Shell suggested we do something she called “the rotisserie” and took a moment to describe it to us. Basically the laboring women lays on her back for a contraction or two pushing her lower back into the floor then turns to lay on her side with her top leg bent and bottom leg relatively stretched out for a contraction or two and then on hands and knees for a contraction or two and then on the other side for a contraction or two and then back to her back for a contraction or two.

We did two rotations this way. I have never known pain like that. It was beyond intense, it was unbearable. I remember kind of hating Shell in that moment for making me do this. Normally I deal with contractions with a fair amount of movement so having to be in one position the whole contraction was excruciating and the fact that most of those positions were not comfortable positions for me made it extra hard.

During my last rotation Shell turned the water on in the bath and started filling it up, I can’t really explain the feeling I felt when I heard that tub turn on. On the one hand I was sort of ecstatic thinking that the end of the rotisserie must be soon and imagining how nice the water would feel. I spent almost all of my labor with Thad in the tub and felt such relief from that. Earlier in labor the tub had come up – I think my sister asked if I was going to use it – and I hesitated and didn’t really know how to answer. Shell said something about how it seemed I wanted to see which came first if I reached my breaking point or if the baby came. I remember thinking she was exactly right.

As I did that rotisserie and heard the tub filling up I knew I had reached my breaking point and it was time for the tub – really I felt like I had reached my breaking point long before this and was just so far past the breaking point as to be completely desperate by this time. I was also angry as the tub filled up though, because I just wanted to get in it right then, and Shell asked me to do another set on my back and on my side – I remember feeling really angry in that moment. I didn’t want to do any more. I wanted to get in the tub. I didn’t think I was capable of doing any more – I was already broken into pieces, there wasn’t any strength left. But, then I did it. When I thought that I was completely unable to, when I thought I had no strength left, when I thought I was already broken as far as I could be…I did it. I broke more. And even without strength I pressed through…screamed through, but made it.

When I finally got in the tub it was such a relief, but things were still moving pretty fast and intense. I remember the water felt like it was really cold to me, even though Shell and Bryan kept telling me that it was plenty warm. I shivered and turned on the hot anyway.

By this point I really wanted it over. I pushed a bit in the tub, but quickly felt like I had to pooh. I got out and went to the toilet. I poohed a little and worked through a contraction on the toilet and then it hit… My bottom split open – or at least that’s what it felt like. I jumped off the toilet and cried out “she’s coming!” Bryan had just then gone to get me more water, so Shell hollered for him to come back and he was there a second later. It was then that I really started to push.

I reached up to feel the head as I had with Thaddeus. It felt so different, so smooth, I was a little freaked out at first. It wasn’t until later that I realized what I was feeling wasn’t exactly the head – it was the head still wrapped in the membranes since my waters hadn’t broken yet.

I squatted in a sort of half kneeling half squatting position and pushed, Shell and Bryan pushed in on my hips from either side. I pushed more. There was a popping feeling and sound as my waters broke. It was 3:22am. I pushed more and reached down (Shell said I actually pushed her hands out of the way, but I don’t totally remember that) what I do remember is Bryan and I together catching our beautiful little girl. She was born at 3:25am on labor day, September 5th. She had her hand up by her ear and her chin tilted up instead of tucked down, which explained some of why the pain had been so intense.

I laid her down on the floor in front of me and waited a minute or two till I was feeling like I was back in my body and ready to pick her up. I held her for a moment, but felt pretty shaky and laid her back down in front of me as Shell gave me a shot of pitocin (we had decided to do pitocin right away after the birth since we had some concerns about hemorrhaging). Shell also gave me a drink of Chinese herbs after the shot.

After the cord had stopped pulsating we cut the cord. I remember asking Shell about waiting till I delivered the placenta and having her tell me with a little bit of urgency in her voice that she wanted to get it cut and me laying down. She showed me the cord then and it had clearly stopped pulsating so Bryan went ahead and cut it. Shell then had me lay down with the baby on my chest/belly. Bryan and Shell both kept telling me to look at them and keep my eyes open, which I remember being really annoyed with because I thought I felt fine… just tired. I remember thinking, “It’s all over now so why can’t I just rest for a second?” I also remember feeling a lot of pressure from the placenta and feeling so relieved when it was delivered. Shell said something about it coming out a different way from normal, something about how placentas coming out that way are more commonly low laying in the uterus.

Bryan was asking me what song was playing on the playlist, it was A Thankful Heart, which was the first song that had played from the playlist back at the beginning of my labor. He kept telling me to keep my eyes open and I still felt annoyed. By this point I couldn’t stop shaking, which is not uncommon for women after birth. Shell gave me some oxygen and kept asking “are you with us? Bethany! Look at me.” I guess I must have looked much worse than I felt.

Shell checked me out and told us my bleeding was really light (a big relief), she also told us I didn’t need any stitches (of course that was also a relief). I think she checked my heart rate and blood pressure as well and all was normal. She told us that physically I was perfectly fine. Nothing was wrong with me. But, she and Bryan still seemed worried about me and wouldn’t let me close my eyes. For the next little bit they seemed to focus on keeping me from passing out. Bryan brought me a couple of spoonfuls of raw honey and that seemed to really help. Once I started to feel a bit better I really wanted to sit up since my back hurt and I still felt pressure while laying on it.

I sat up, leaning against the bathroom cabinets and held Sage. It was the first time I really truly looked at her. Bryan sat next to me and we both just stared at her. It was a really sweet moment for all of us and I was glad that we were able to enjoy that time for a little while. I nursed Sage a little, but she wasn’t all that interested. I remember Shell telling us that the song that had been playing when Sage was born was “Hey Jude” – I hadn’t even noticed.

After a bit, Shell took Sage to look her over and weight her. It was about then that Brie came in carrying Thaddeus. Thad cuddled up to me and together, with Bryan next to us, we all watched as Shell checked Sage out.

She weighed 5 pounds 15 ounces and was 18.5 inches long. Shell guessed by her reflexes and size that she was actually about 38.5 weeks gestation (we had already been speculating that my original estimated due date was wrong and this confirmed it). She was a tiny little one, but healthy and strong with the most beautiful rudy coloring.

After Shell was done I got cleaned up and crawled into bed with Sage. Shell took a short nap before checking us out again and heading home to get some rest. Bryan got Thad breakfast and played with him. And thus began our very long first day as a family of four.

Rejoicing in the journey -
Bethany Stedman

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I remember crying at the library. I checked email on the ipad while there and I got a really sweet and encouraging message from my friend, Melissa. In a moment when I was feeling especially discouraged about still being pregnant (I was a week past my estimated due date) she told me she was proud of me and wrote this “So today, instead of saying when is this baby going to get here?! I want you to say ‘I am one tough mama, I can handle this!! I can be patient for nature. Not everyone does this and I am proud of myself for waiting it out!!’ and give yourself a nice pat on the back. Or just pat your belly if that is easier.” It made me smile and then cry. And it made me feel a little better too. Little did I know how much I would need to hear, and remember her words that I was one tough momma in the hours to come.

My labor really got started Sunday evening around 6pm. I’d been having contractions steadily all afternoon, but they weren’t really labor contractions, they were just the same tightening feeling that I’d been having since I was about 20 weeks pregnant. But, around 6pm things changed, these contractions were different, they felt like labor. Suddenly as I felt them I remembered, really remembered, my first birth in a whole new way.

I continued having regular labor contractions as I made dinner and put Thaddeus to bed. When a contraction would hit I’d just lean over against the counter and do what I needed to do to deal with it and then go back to making dinner. We had a broccoli and green bean pasta for dinner. Bryan and I split a beer and toasted to the baby being born soon.

Dealing with the contractions got a little harder while putting Thad to sleep as they got more intense while I was nursing him. Thankfully he fell asleep quickly and I only had to work through two or three contractions while putting him to bed.

After Thad was asleep we called our midwife, Shell, and gave her a heads up about what was going on. Then I had some chocolate crème brûlée that my dad had made the night before and we tried to watch some tv. That didn’t last long.

It was getting later and things were moving along well so we started getting some stuff ready – moving birth supplies into the bedroom, changing the sheets on the bed, etc. We put on the playlist of songs I had made for the birth and danced our way through a few contractions. Shell called back to see how things were going and told us she was on her way. We called my sister and asked her to come be with Thad in case he woke up. We texted my mom (since we knew she was up any way because of the time difference in Cebu) and I sent off a quick email to some close friends who had agreed to pray with me throughout the last few weeks of pregnancy.

When Shell got here she started setting up her stuff, and helped me through a few contractions. Then we all moved out into the kitchen. Shell had one of dad’s crème brûlée’s and a coffee. Bryan and I had some tea and we all just sat and talked in-between contractions. Shell shared stories with us that made us laugh. (She really should write her memoirs some day – I know I would love to read that!)

Soon Brie arrived and joined us for a crème brûlée of her own and plenty of her own energy and talkativeness. The contractions at this point were difficult but manageable and Shell kept saying “I think you’ll be surprised. I think your farther along then you think you are.” which was of course an encouraging thing to hear.

After everyone had finished their desert and drinks we moved back into the bedroom and Shell did an internal exam – more for the opportunity to turn the baby since she was still posterior than to find out how dilated I was, but it was encouraging when she told us that my cervix was dilated to a five on it’s own but could easily stretch to an eight. My sister asked something about how much longer Shell thought it would be and Shell said something to the extent of it being up to me, that my cervix wasn’t really the issue, and it would quickly open and stretch as it needed to once I was ready and about how it was going to be more about me being ready and not afraid to push…or something like that. It was getting harder for me to concentrate at this point.

After I was checked Brie and Bryan started laying down the plastic floor covering stuff that we got to protect the carpet (my dad was worried we’d ruin the carpet in his bathroom again, like we had when my son was born). The stuff we got this time had adhesive on one side so it actually stuck to the carpet and didn’t slide around. It worked really well. My sister got really into the job of covering the carpet and even made a little “run way” from where I was laboring on the floor in the bedroom to the bathroom. It even had an arrow in the middle made out of duct tape. We all got a little chuckle out of it.

It was nice to laugh during labor – my labor with Thaddeus had been really, intense and heavy and even contemplative. Up to this point in my labor with Sage things were much lighter, more relaxed, and I felt much more present and grounded.

Once we moved into the bathroom with everything all set up I hit what I’m going to call the peeing stage of my labor. By this point the baby was very low in my pelvis and putting a lot of pressure on my bladder. For a while this was the pattern that was my reality – have a contraction, go to the toilet and pee, come back out, feel thirsty and have something to drink, have another contraction, get up again to pee, again have something to drink. It went on like this with me peeing about every two minutes for quite a while.

Then things slowed down a bit. I remember my sister asking numerous times “what are we waiting for?” and looking at her phone. I remember her asking Shell how much longer she thought it would be and how far along she thought I was now. I didn’t realize it at first but her anxiety and desire for it to be over started rubbing off on me. I was the one who really wanted it to be over, I was the one working through the pain every few minutes! My stress level rose.

I remember telling them that I felt a lot of pressure (which isn’t surprising since the baby was very low by now) and that I kind of wanted to push but didn’t really feel ready. Shell told me if I wanted to push I could try and that if I wasn’t ready it wouldn’t really do anything. For the next few contractions I pushed. Shell listened to the babies heart rate, which sounded great. The pushing felt nice with the contractions, but it didn’t really do anything.

I started to feel discouraged as Brie asked again “what are we waiting for”. There started to be longer distances between contractions. I remember during a particularly long break between contractions I thought to myself “you need to ask brie to leave” it was clear as day and I knew it was what I needed for everything to pick back up again. But I wrestled with telling her for what felt like a mini-eternity. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, I knew she had said she really wanted to be at the birth. I had planned on having her video the birth and take pictures (as long as Thad didn’t wake up), since I was always a little sad that I didn’t have video/pictures of Thad’s birth. Would brie take it the wrong way, or would she understand? I struggled with these things for a while, but I knew I had to ask her to leave. So, I asked her to go, and she did, and pretty much immediately things picked up again.

…. check back tomorrow for the rest of the story…

Rejoicing in the journey -
Bethany Stedman

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