I used to think it was rude of me to try and relate to a birth. I wasn’t running around the room talking about my own labor while the mom was in labor. I’m not that narcissistic. But whenever I sat down to write the blog post, my own experiences as a Mom would pop up. It felt like I was “taking over” the moment. But I think it’s impossible to separate myself from the experience and I think that drives my style. What would I want to see on the day of my births? What would I want to remember?
When Holly’s boys woke up and came to the birth room with their blankets, I knew I was in trouble. Both of my boys were Blanket kids. Becks still covets Owl Blankie. Once I saw those blankets clutched between chubby fingers… I knew this birth was going to get me.
Labor had stalled earlier in the evening. Holly’s champion spirit allow her to rest when she could and walk the stairs between and during contractions. Around 7 a.m., the boys’ bedheads wandered into the birth room and her labor ramped up. We all think the baby was waiting on the boys to wake up. The boys were so helpful during Holly’s last minutes of labor. Giving her encouraging words “You don’t have to hold your breath, Momma.” Placing beloved items near her as she was pushing. Making the entire room of experienced birth workers smile. A few minutes later, Daddy caught his third son. His sons greeted their baby brother with the biggest smiles. His Momma took a deep breath and was finally surrounded by her three boys.
And for the first time at any birth, I cried.