for you are wonderfully and fearfully made.

The lead up was torture. Days and days of random 4-5 hour "false labors" and endless natural attempts at inducing labor on our own. It finally came down to discussing with the midwives what our plan was if we got to the 2 week mark - the dreaded hospital induction. We had to go to the labor & delivery ward twice for "non-stress" tests, so we had an idea of what we were in for if that's what it came down too. Laying in that hospital bed, strapped to beeping machines - Tim and I talked about the possibility, the reality... I could see in his eyes that he didn't want this either. I started to feel really defeated - like I was somehow failing myself. How could I go 2 weeks overdue with my third baby? How, after two home births, was I facing my worst fear? I had so many questions, so many insecurities - and it felt like nothing could take me out of the funk. In hindsight, I wonder if my negativity kept my body from doing the work it needed to do. Finally, on Wednesday the 16th we had another NST, a S&S and a ultrasound to make sure the baby was still alright. While I was laying on that bed once again, my "student" midwife came in to see me and check the charts. She could tell I was anxious, she knew this was the polar opposite of what I do. She went over the charts with me, and said something that I believe probably pulled me out of my funk and reinstated my confidence in my body. She said 'all babies are born on their birth days, and not a day sooner' - it was that which made me realize I wasn't "overdue" and that the anxiety that had been built up was derived from numbers on a calendar. Numbers don't determine when a baby is ready, they do. I went to the ultrasound that evening, and was reassured (as I had been, 4 times before) that my baby was fine, that he was a normal size and was in a good position for birth. We went home, humbly reassured. I began having contractions again - and although confident in my body now, I couldn't help the skepticism that overwhelmed me - I let myself believe it was once again another false labor. I ate a big spaghetti dinner that my mum prepared for us and quietly fell into the comfort of my bed, and into a deep sleep. I awoke at 2:43 am (I can still see the numbers on the clock)to a very unkind and strong contraction - one big enough to make me moan. I breathed through it, laid quietly and decided to get up and pee. Once on the toilet, another one hit me like a boulder - and so I once again breathed through it, but I was now growing a bit curious. I went back and forth from the bed to the bathroom two more times, breathing through strong contractions - and it was the third time in the bathroom that I finally hollered to Tim "wake up! turn on the lights - this is it!!" It was 3:30 by this point, but that was the last time I looked at the clock until hours after it was all said and done. I did the routine calls - took the appropriate actions of lighting candles and Tim started to blow up the pool. My team filed in one by one, each more amazed at the strength of my labor then the last. I knew it was going to be fast, I just kept repeating 'this is going to be too quick'. The pool was filling up when we ran out of hot water - so my mum and Lindsey decided to start boiling pots on the stove to keep it warm. I got in as soon as I could, and didn't leave. Emma and Sophie woke up at some point, and jumped into the pool with me. Both of them were cautious, and concerned - but they were so strong and so supportive. I wonder if they will remember it when they are all grown? After two or so hours had passed, it was pointed out to me that no midwife had come yet. Unconcerned, I motioned Tim to get a hold of them a let them know this baby would be here soon. Little did I know that because of confusion, I would have an unassisted birth. The water was my solace, I let it guide me through the contractions and hold me when I rested between them. The contractions were hard, strong and on top of each other - it was so fast, that there was no lead up to the transition. Afterward, Kayeleigh told me that when I started to "give up" she thought to herself... 'she can't be at this point yet, it's only been an hour or two - she's stronger than that' (little did she know, that I was indeed already at that point and only shortly after that would we meet Liam). Then it hit me, I could feel the change happen - and I looked at Tim and told him I wanted to push. For some reason though, I held it. I wouldn't release the pressure - I kept fighting the urges, even though I recognized them and knew what I had to do. Minutes later the midwife walked in the door - and while she busied herself in the living room getting her unneeded gear .. I pushed. It took one long hard push and I reached down into the water and felt the head. I didn't wait for another contraction, I knew I didn't need too - I just kept pushing and guided his head and body into my arms and out of the water. Nobody really knew what I was doing - it was almost like "oh look, she had the baby!" My mum was in the basement, the girls and my sister were in the bedroom - Tim was standing directly in front of me.. and everyone ran into the kitchen with tears in their eyes. My mind has already fuzzed out the details, and I can't remember who said what - or what anyone's reaction was... other than mine and Tim's. Liam let out a cry as soon as he emerged from the water - so I was confident he could breath. When I looked down though, I could see he was wrapped in his cord at least 4 times - and so without a thought, I flipped him over and unwrapped him from his lifeline that had aided him through the first 9 months of his being. I think there must have been a dense layer of chaos for everyone else in the room - but I didn't notice. He was here, he was in my arms - nothing else could even puncture my high. The minutes after that went quickly - Tim cut the cord, the girls gazed at him in wonder and there were tears of joy. It was a whole 3 hours from start (when I decided it was really happening at 3:30) until Liam was born at 6:26 am on Thursday, February 17th. He was a plump 8Lbs 5 ounces, with wonderfully long pianist fingers and dark, intense eyes. It doesn't feel so long ago, but at the same time it feels like it happened a life time before this.