M.M.S.

Matilda Mae Smylie

9 lbs, 15 oz., 22 inches

5-14-2010

 7:46 p.m.

She is beauty and peace and so much love for our family. 

This is her story.

The beautiful morning of her birth, I had no idea she was coming. I drove Grace to school in my pajamas and came home to get ready for an appointment with my midwife. I felt strong, heavy, overdue. My hips ached. I had spent the last few days eating caramel apples, going on walks, shopping at Costco. Waking up every morning still unbelievably pregnant. 


By the time I got to her office, I was having regular contractions 10 minutes apart. Nothing out of the ordinary for four days overdue. She checked the amount of fluid around the baby and monitored her heartbeat. Both looked great. She looked at me and asked if I had eaten a good breakfast, "Giving birth burns as many calories as running a marathon, ya know". I said yes with a smile, doubting today would be our day. She warned me, "You're at 4 cm, contracting regularly, do not wait until you're in pain. It may be too late by then to make it to the hospital."

I arrived home still with regular contractions. No aching, no wincing, everything was very mild. The phone conversation with Jake was tense, you see, there was quite a load of anxiety throughout this pregnancy concerning labor and delivery. As in: let's not have the baby in the car. Jake and I decided to go to the hospital. If my labor did not pick up, I would have my midwife break my water. I was nervous about this part, having an induction of any sort was not really in my plans.


Another fact, I hate having plans. They create more stress for me. I like to have a rough outline, sure, but I am not one that prepares. For her birth, I wanted a few things. I was planning on going as long as I could without intervention. I planned to find my inner strength. To face the feelings of fear and terror that accompanied Lillie's birth. Hers was a natural birth, two minutes after I arrived to the hospital, and was a complete shock and surprise. I hoped this time I could have a natural delivery that was under my own control. But I was not 100% committed, either. This was the part I left open and unplanned.


We arrived at the hospital and about an hour later at 2 p.m., my midwife broke my water. There was no turning back. Today was the day. We walked the halls, I sat on a large beach ball they call a "birthing ball". The girls would have had a lot of fun with that ball! For me it was strictly business, with ice chips as my friend. I walked the halls. I swayed. By 4p.m. I had progressed to 5 cm. I was feeling good, not in much pain, taking things slow. By 6 p.m. I took a shower and filled up the bath. My midwife had advised me that a bath might slow down my labor (currently my contractions were 3-5 minutes apart), but a woman in labor craves a bath, needs a bath, has got to have a bath. I got in and almost immediately knew that in my case, my midwife had been wrong. 


Contractions got to about 2 minutes apart, stretching a little bit longer and becoming something I had to get through by breathing and closing my eyes. The only comfortable position was sitting cross-legged and gripping my ice cup tightly. Jake watched me become more serious, take on more pain, slowly accepting active labor. His concern was mounting but he talked to me and shut up when I needed him to. 


I got out of the bath and was 7 cm. Here we go. Here we go. I spent a few minutes on the bed monitoring little girl's heartbeat, then back on the birth ball (love and hate that thing!). As Jake applied pressure to my back, he lovingly suggested that if I were to have an epidural, now would be the time. My midwife shot him a death glare which I didn't see and I just said, "shhhh". 


Because it was happening. And I was doing it. One contraction at a time. 


It was about 7:20 p.m. All together, I got through about six contractions sitting there. The first three mounting in pain, the fourth a twinge of something new, something burning, the fifth a weak form of the need to bear down, after which my midwife suggested I move to the bed to push. I said I needed to stay for one more. One more contraction to terrify me enough to move to that scary part, the very end. That last contraction was what I needed. There was no choice involved, I moved to the bed with a single purpose. 


Once I laid down, it was only minutes before we met her. Minutes before my world changed yet again. Minutes until I felt all the emotions I had ever felt in my life, gathered together, exploding in the space above me, where ultimate happiness lies. A perfect culmination of pain and joy. She was a big baby, and it caused me to expend a lot of effort, but she came, eventually. Jake delivered her torso and legs and he handed her body to me, laid her on my chest, kept his hands on her. I gripped her tightly, tears streaming down my cheeks, my hands a little shaky. He held my hand and rubbed her back with the other, encouraging her to cry, to breathe. She didn't cry for one minute and fifteen seconds. 


He was scared. I cried with the purest, simplest joy I have ever felt. I knew she was okay and it was confirmed when she finally let out the prettiest little fairy cry and our medical staff all sighed with relief. The cord had been around her neck and her shoulders needed quite a lot of effort to free. Her face was bruised all over with pinprick purple dots from the strain and pressure of birth. Her hair was thick, black and matted and she was squishy and red. I stared at her steadily, minute after minute, but it took so long to actually see her. She was such a new face, although I already knew her and had for quite some time.


The range of emotions that are felt after birth are unexplainable. You are a goddess, a queen, and at the same time, God's most humble servant. You would fall at the feet of your newborn child, climb the unconquerable mountain, place your flag on top, and spit in the face of all those that doubt you. You would do anything for anyone, yet all you want to do is go home, stay home, and never leave again. Keep those you love close to you, and protect the river of blessings recently allotted. 


This child, this baby, you are certain has been personally given to you by the hand of God in heaven. What else could have happened? And how could you possibly be more lucky and blessed than in this moment?


Since then, we've wallowed in disbelief, let shock and awe wash over us as we've had some of the most spiritual moments and conversations ever spoken in the course of our lives. Jake and I, we have this family. This family of four daughters, who we can't stop loving. And the newest one brings so much happiness and love into our lives that it's difficult to stand. It's difficult to fully feel it. So we push it away until the dark hours of late evening, when we can let it compress on our senses like it should. When we can listen to our girls gently breathing sleepily in their beds as we sit together and stare at our newest one. The one that makes us a family of six.


Tildy, we love you.