I’d like to start this blog-post by saying that being pregnant during a pandemic has been truly something else – and countless other mothers out there are only too familiar with the wide range of emotions that accompany bringing a precious life into the world during these real uncertain times. My heart and solidarity go out to each one of you!
This pregnancy was anything but boring. We started our sheltering-in-place already expecting our sweet little baby, so between the anxiety and uncharted territory we were all navigating, I was also constantly pushing aside the worries of whether hospitals would be safe, whether my husband would be allowed in with me as I gave birth, and whether we’d all get the virus and if my baby would need to be separated from me.
Then there were the two hospital visits at the end – one a scary ER visit via ambulance because of a vasovagal episode (in which my husband was not allowed because of covid protocol), and a second one for the beginning signs of labor where my doctor wanted to monitor me for over 6 hours because of it being my 5th baby (while my parents were self-quarantining out of an abundance of caution as per their doctor! Crazy covid times! But thankfully my sister and her husband were HUGE helps and took care of our 4 children during those long hours of us waiting at the hospital). Both of these visits ended with a firm “no baby yet.” Each time resulted in an amount of frustration, but also the knowledge that God was with us. And each time baby showed herself to be a tough little girl because her vitals were always strong and she moved and kicked as if to reassure me whenever I wondered if she was safe in my womb.
Finally when I was 37 and a half weeks pregnant, just before 2 am on August 7th, I awoke to real contractions. Normally, my husband and I will time contractions for hours until they come 4 minutes apart, and are strong and unwaveringly intense. THEN we’ll head to the hospital, assured that this is the real deal (because everyone knows false labors are the worst. Been there.). Also, staying to labor peacefully at home is usually key for me to maintain the calm restful state I need to make it through labor unmedicated – which is what works best for me. This time though, it seems we didn’t get that luxury. The doctor had warned that I should go straight to the hospital with the onset of real contractions this time, and since we lived a ways away AND we needed to make sure our little ones were safely squared away with my parents (who were thankfully cleared as not having coronavirus!), we headed straight to the hospital at 4 in the morning.
Once we got there, the frustrating part began in earnest. The maternity ward was full, and my contractions seemed to all but stop. We were given a small shared room in triage and baby was monitored intermittently, between walks back and forth in the hall to try and coax some more effective contractions. Matt and I must have made a funny picture in that hall, walking arm-in-arm and telling jokes to keep each other sane, in spite of all the social-distancing, masks, and cleaning protocols happening around us! But after awhile I became completely disillusioned as my hopes for a peaceful labor were replaced with exhausted pacing in hot masks and the fear of being sent home and disappointing everyone, including our little ones who woke up excitedly that morning to meet their little sister. I was having a hard time finding the bright spot in our situation, and my emotions were a bit of a wreck hearing the poor girl next to me (who was in the throes of her first labor). I was tearing up every time I heard her soft sobs because I was remembering how frightening the unknown of that first labor can be! I pray everything went smoothly for her, God bless her.
So. This is how it all began. I was grumpy, disappointed, cramped with Matt in triage, fully expecting to get sent home, and hearing that there were no rooms available, that I wasn’t progressing, AND I overheard the laboring girl next to me being told that she might have to go to the sister-hospital in a neighboring city…
Sometimes when you feel like everything is going wrong, it’s easy to forget or even ignore the fact that God’s right there with you – and I know that’s unfortunately true for me too. But these are the signs He gave us that should have clued me in on his presence with us:
- My first nurse in triage was also the first nurse I had with my last baby, AND when she told us her name, Matt and I locked eyes because it was a form of the name we had given our sweet unborn daughter!
- The first OB to check in with us decided they’d lean towards keeping me because of my history and not-so-close proximity to the hospital if they sent me home.
- Matt was a gem as usual, reassuring me in spite of how exhausted I knew he must’ve been – AND he was an expert doula. <3
- As we were walking the halls, we ran into our beloved kids’ pediatrician AND she was on call.
- As we were walking the halls, my OB (the best, who knows me and has delivered several of my babies) walked in and personally saw to it that I was admitted (and yes, the poor girl next to me was admitted as well!) and 2 rooms opened up for us!
- I realized later that, if we hadn’t gotten there at what felt like a ridiculously early time considering how long my labor took, we WOULD have been turned away because of space, and would never have had a room! Because that’s what they were doing by the end.
I should have known God wouldn’t abandon us. <3
I’ll spare you every detail of my labor, but I remember feeling the pressure to hurry up and get through it because of how full the maternity ward was. Then my doctor intervened to get the contractions to speed up and pitocin was mentioned. I knew if I started down the various meds, that my dream of another natural delivery would probably not be possible for me. As it was, I was really having a hard time gearing up for the intensity I knew was coming after all the hours of start/stop contractions! Thankfully, I didn’t need extra medical interventions and contractions picked up fast and furious at around 12:30 pm – another answer to prayer.
The pain this time around was intense in a way I hadn’t remembered with my other births, and I was battling what felt like a hundred negative and mocking voices in my head. Matt was my “Simon” and I knew I wasn’t alone because he literally supported me through each contraction and refused to take a break. Still, it was hard to believe I could do this, and I truly believe this discouragement came from a lack of the tangible aspects of our Faith. Usually we make it a point to go to Confession and Mass within a few days of labor, and that always carries me through. Now because of sheltering-in-place, and trying to stay “quarantined” to be safe before having the baby, I hadn’t had access to the Sacraments.
But I distinctly remember a moment when I was in transition, and Matt witnessed it – when the pain was so intense and I felt ready to give up and the voices of doubt seemed especially strong, I FELT that God was with me and I nodded. In the height of the pain. Not because I heard words, but because I understood His call for me to complete this labor. I knew I could do it, and He gave me the strength to say yes. It’s still hard to explain, but I know this was the moment He gave me to focus everything towards Him, which was part of my struggle.
I thank God so much for this labor, for His faithfulness, and for His constant presence. I thank God for Matt being allowed to stay at my side, for my family members who took such great care of my kids and relieved my anxiety at being away from them. And I’m so thankful for my gorgeous and perfectly tiny little daughter who was so absolutely worth it all (and worth the extra long labor! She was born at 5:22 pm <3). This little one who, as I cried out when she burst into this world and I met her face to face, made herself known for the sweet, strong, beautiful child of God that she is. This new daughter of mine who accompanied us through the crazy uncertainties of the early days of Coronavirus, who heard me praying Rosary after Rosary in the still and silent mornings and who brought us all a little closer to Heaven with her love and our shared love of her. My little Méalla. There’s a reason your name means both “honey sweetness” and “lightning.” What a gift. Love you forever, baby girl. <3
