The birth of Benjamin Elliott

On Thursday, November 12th I woke up feeling pretty good. That morning I had my first cup of Third Trimester Tea and sat on the chaise with Conley in my lap while I used a bright orange pen to journal. I wrote about patience. I wrote about patient anticipation because my appointment on Tuesday was discouraging. There had been no change in my body since the week before. I had been so sure the baby was coming and then I was crushed. John had had Wednesday off so we took our last trip to Babies R Us and I realized he was waiting too, and this would be the end of just the two of us, so I would be patient and enjoy our time. "When am I ever going to be this pregnant with my first child ever again?" I wrote in bright, happy orange.

I spent the day putting away the new baby items and doing light house work. Around 1:30pm I laid down for a nap, Conley glued to my legs. I woke up on my own around three and thought about showering. However, when I sat down to pee I felt a strange pop. I looked down and there was a little dripping. "Did my water just break?" I figured if, in fact, my water was breaking I'd be really happy later that I had showered. I quickly took a shower and dried off, taking care to not drip on anything important, still thinking I may be mistaken... Once I was dry I tried to put on lotion but found it difficult to do because I had to stand in one spot or risk getting things wet. "Alright, this has to be it. What else would be coming out of me?" I called John and told him I thought I may have broken... He didn't really believe I could be so unsure AND in labor... I told him I wanted to go to the OB's office but would be really disappointed if I were, in fact, starting labor and he weren't there. He told the guys he was leaving, but may be back.

We met up at the OB's office but I still wasn't feeling anything. We didn't sit in the waiting room because we were both so nervous and, frankly, I didn't want to risk leaking on anything. Once we got to the exam room and could speak more candidly with one another as we waited we realized how excited and a little scared we both were. My contractions were beginning to become uncomfortable too. When we're nervous, of course, we make jokes... By the time the OB came in I was giggling so hard it forced every ounce of water out of my body, which made me laugh more. "You're in labor," she said definitively... "If it had been like this before," I told her, "I wouldn't have bothered to come in!" She checked my cervix for reference and I was at 4cm and 80% effaced. She wanted us to go right to the hospital (I was positive for Strep B so would need antibiotics asap), but we were totally unprepared. She had a pretty grave look on her face when she told us we could go home first, "but don't wait around," she said.

We got home and scurried to get things together. Conley was a wreck! He had no idea what was going on! I made myself a piece of cinnamon toast thinking I would be in labor until the next day and may not get another chance to eat. As John made himself a pb&j I started to get hectic inside and noted that the contractions were starting to make me nervous. We packed up the car and took the dog to PetSmart where he would stay until Sunday. While I waited in the car for John to sign Conley in I started to get really REALLY uncomfortable. Between PetSmart and the hospital John called his dad and told him I wasn't in any pain yet. "Oh no! This is pain, I'm in pain now!"

When we got to the labor and delivery ward the nurses said they were starting to worry we weren't showing up! We told them we had to take the dog to the boarding facility and they were all a little stunned and uncomfortable at the thought! We sat in the hallway for a few minutes waiting for our room, they were particularly full that night. I informed the receptionist that in two minutes I was going to take off all of my clothes with no regard for where I was. She called someone and we were in a room in the next minute and a half! Just in time!

By the time I was in a gown and in bed I was so distracted and focused I almost didn't notice they were putting in my IV (a source of real anxiety for me). John stood by my head and just kept telling me, "You're doing great, everything is fine, your body is working!" The first time I saw my own ob it was 6:45 and I had gotten to 6cm and 90%. John and I worked through lots of really tough contractions with no interest in how long or how far apart they were. They seemed to be much stronger much sooner than I had expected and I was honestly scared, thinking I wouldn't be able to do this for twelve hours. When the nurse checked me again at 7:30 and I was still at 6 cm I started to cry. "It's okay," John said, "your body is working, things are still happening even though there's no change..." He was awesome! I worked hard for the next half hour, really trying to visualize things opening and changing and softening. At 8 o'clock, when the nurse came back, THANK GOD! I was at 8 cm and my antibiotics were finished!! "You want to get in the shower?" Heck yes! John helped me up and into the shower, pausing for all the contractions.

The shower was amazing. John used the shower head to spray my lower back or my belly as I requested. I sat on the seat, crouched on the floor, leaned up against the wall... Just kept moving and breathing, loving the water! After about 45 minutes I started to feel like things were getting easier which made me think the water was stalling labor. John helped me towel off and get back into my gown. Walking back to the bed was surprisingly easy and I seemed to have this burst of energy. John got me into the side lying position I loved so much and then it hit. I had this.. contraction.. I cannot describe. It took every ounce of me to ride it and I threw up a little which immediately took my mind to "TRANSITION!!" All I could say was, "I want to get checked!" "What?" John said. "Call the nurse... I want to be checked!" He made the call, and in a very confused voice said, "my wife wants to be checked, or something." Two super contractions later the nurse came in and asked as she put on her gloves, "do you feel the urge to push." I just nodded emphatically as I grunted though another super contraction. "Okay! Don't!" I think the look on my face told her that wasn't much of an option. She told me to just make little grunts when I felt the urge, Dr. Goitom was still in surgery. She checked and I was at 10 cm and totally effaced. "We're ready!" she said, but she didn't think the doctor would be for another five or ten minutes. I really thought I was going to have my baby without a medical professional! Twelve minutes later the nurse came back and allowed me a few pushes before the doctor came.

When Dr. Goitom finally got to the room she checked me and smiled before she sat down to do paper work. John and the nurse helped me push for about half an hour. The nurse told me that the baby had a lot of hair. I was surprised he had any! I noted how much easier this part was, I so preferred it over the opening stage! After that initial half hour of pushing the nurse told the doctor we were ready for her. She walked over, put her things in order and just sat there... I'm still surprised by how much she didn't do! Although, I know our bodies are made for this..! After another eleven minutes (41 total pushing) Benjamin came right out and was placed on my chest. He was surprisingly quiet, he hardly cried after those initial few protests. His eyes were wide open and looking right at me! In those first few minutes everything about him was perfect! I say "those first few" because after about twenty minutes of snuggling on my chest his body temperature was dropping and he was grunting too much. Because of the group B strep Ben was at a high risk of infection. They want the antibiotics finished at least four hours before delivery... Mine had finished a little less than two hours prior. Benjamin went into the warmer and a nurse from the NICU came in and suctioned his lungs. That was the most angry he got in those first few days. Once they were done working on him he had to stay in the warmer but I was able to sit with him and sing all the songs he already knew. He laid there, very content, watching me sing.

It really was a perfect night!

Due Date UpDate

*sigh*

So, Thursday night we did... that thing... you know, that got us into this situation! and there was some bleeding... Alright, there was a lot of bleeding. The kind of bleeding you don't just sit around and wait to stop. We went straight to the hospital where they hooked me up and checked me out. Baby sounded terrific! His heart rate was only a tiny bit slower than normal (and totally within healthy range) but I was contracting. I had NO idea! I didn't really believe the nurse at first; she showed me the tape, put her hand on my belly and said, "see there it is, feel your stomach." Sure enough, it was hard as a rock and Baby wasn't moving! Once it finished he freaked out and the nurses thought he was so cute! They were very impressed by his leg strength! We had to hang around for a while until the hospital's OB was able to come in (my OB didn't think it was necessary for her to come see me). She finally came in about 45 minutes later and checked everything out. The bleeding had slowed and wasn't coming from anything really important but I was 70% effaced and between one and 2cm. They wanted me to walk around for an hour and see if there were any changes. We protested. I talked to the nurse and told her even if I were in labor we'd be going home once they checked me. We want most of our laboring to happen at home, not in the hospital. She called my OB and gave us the go ahead to go home, get some sleep, and come into the office in the morning.

Friday morning I had an appointment with my primary care about an echo I had had the week before. Everything looked terrific! When the nurse took my blood pressure though she was surprised my how high it was and asked if I had trouble with it. I said, "no, I may be in labor though." She was stunned, "what are you going to do now?" I told her I was going across the hall as soon as I was done there. When I got across the hall I had to see one of the OB partners, mine was at the hospital. I really really liked this OB. She gave me terrific compliments and told me, based on what she was seeing, that my labor would be a breeze! The bad news? There is always bad news for us... My strep B culture came back positive. It could amount to nothing or it could cause infection in me and/or the baby and we could both die. Good thing I didn't know that the night before, they may not have let me go! She said it's no big deal, I just have to come in sooner and get antibiotics ever four hours. I said, "oh, it's a big deal..." "What's the problem?" "I one time passed out when my mom was getting an IV placed... I take a Xanax every time I get blood taken... If I have to get an IV I'm going to be so stressed my body is going to shut down and I'm going to need pitcocin and an epidural and in the end I'm going to have to have a cesarean because I can't handle all those needles!!!" She told me they may be able to give me a little Valium before placing the IV (once she looked it up though she found out it's not an option, big surprise), and I'll be fine. She sent me home with an IV catheter so we could "become friends" and told me to familiarize myself with the process so I won't be so creeped out! The cath is on the table and sometimes I pick my teeth with it!

As of this morning, things are moving pretty slowly, but I've got a chiropractic appointment (which can induce labor) and a friend coming to help me clean... We're shooting for lots of labor inducing activity! I'd like to have this baby out by the weekend, but who knows? He's been on his own time line all along! Still, he's been fantastic through the whole thing!

Pray for Ismael

Saying Goodbye

He was a week and a half old...

This is Ismael. Ismael was born at the Village of Hope in Morocco while I was there in 2005. He was conceived by his unwed mother during a rape. She is an illegitimate woman, as low as you can go in an Arab world. Her first child, a baby girl, was sold. The two babies share a father, oddly enough, and he is the one who sold her. No one knew she was pregnant. She left her village under the guise of visiting family. She stayed at the Village for a month before she delivered. I lived with her and a French girl named Sofie. I cannot describe the unbelievable language barrier we had between us for those weeks we occupied the same space! Still, we loved each other. Although it wasn't much of a surprise, it was a tremendous honor when she asked Sofie and me to name her little boy. Ismael means "God listens." I have to remind myself that that is the reason we picked his name. I was so sure in those first few months of his life that God was not listening.

She came to the orphanage for her own safety and for that of her precious cargo. She wanted him to have more than she did. The Village takes babies and puts them in families. There are three families at The Village. When Ismael was born two of the families had eight children (their max) and one had three (my little darlings) but no parents. The couple, who had committed to living in Morocco with the soul purpose of raising eight orphans to adulthood in a Christ centered home, left. I can't judge them. It is a huge task, I couldn't do it. But their departure is the source of my heart ache. When I visited, the three little ones (ages 2-5) were being taken care of by two women, one from Canada and one from England. They stayed for years until a couple was found who would take their place. There is a family in that house now, praise God, but back then...

It was decided that the two of them should not take on an infant before parents were found. I discussed taking Ismael home with me with the leaders at the Village, but not being Muslim made it impossible for me to adopt him legally. My sweet little Ismael stayed in the care of Sofie and an English woman who showed up mere days before I left until he was almost a month old. After Sofie left he was sent to a private orphanage in a nearby village. This orphanage has ties with the Village, but for some reason my contacts lost track of Ismael. Today is his birthday. He is four years old. I can keep track of how big he is (generally speaking) because he is only four days younger than my sweet little Kera! She is in preschool now. She has a personality three times bigger than her little frame and loves to color. I know they are not alike, but I wonder how Ismael is. I wonder if he is learning to write. I wonder if he feels loved and safe, but most of all I wonder if he has heard the truth about Jesus. He was born in The Village, a strong hold of Jesus in a vast dessert of lies. That has to mean something. It has to have some effect on his future. I prayed over his tiny body so hard those twelve days I had with him. But now, as I sit here carrying my own little boy, waiting to hold him in my arms, praying that he will know Jesus soon I cannot help feeling like God did not listen four years ago. He was there, in a little bastion of God's people and now... Only God knows.

But, we named him Ismael for a reason. God will listen. So, please, ask Him to protect this little boy. Ask Him to draw him, somehow to Himself.