Remembering

It’s Sunday morning. Normally I would be at church. Instead I’m at home with a child who isn’t feeling the best. The wind is blowing away outside, there is a load of bedding in the washer because Sick Child :), Darian is snoozing, and to be honest, it feels quite cozy πŸ˜‰ I’m sad that I’ll miss the Christmas dinner we had today. In fact, I was definitely feeling some self pity this morning. But this is life. So I will do things today that I have not taken the time for lately πŸ™‚ Writing this post, putting some pictures into an album, designing our Christmas card (which by the way I do not like, because we did it in 10 minutes with a self timer πŸ™‚ ), and maybe some reading, a nap, and some extra baby cuddles. And that’s what today’s post is about. My babe.

On a Sunday 5 short months ago, I woke up to use the bathroom, and thought my water broke. It didn’t take long till I knew it did πŸ™‚ I had been home from the hospital 6 days, after aΒ week was spent there to hold off labor, in hopes that baby would have more time to develop those lungs. A week that really tested me, and grew my faith. I was 36 weeks, andΒ baby was coming, ready or not. A call to my midwife, and advice to head for the hospital, even though I wasn’t contracting, because this whole pregnancy had its issues πŸ™‚ Waking up hubby (who got bug eyed :)), scrambling to find someone to help do the morning milking. And a rush trying to pack my bag, call Mom, and get myself together. I had only 2 hrs. of sleep, and I remember feeling like I couldn’t even think what to pack. Realizing that I did not even have a newborn boys sleeper. It was my 1st time birthing at a hospital. It was my 5th child, and yet in a way it all felt new and scary.

We headed to the hospital around 4 and arrived at approximately 4:30. Still not contracting. The decision was made to put me on a drip, and get contractions going. And thus it began. I was hoping to have him in a few hours. πŸ™‚ But my body said different. I would contract, and they would slowly start going away, then my dosage would go up, and they would start again, and die off again,Β and on and on it went πŸ™‚ We walked the halls, chatted with my midwife, who by the way, got her sleep disturbed, and still came in to the hospital to be with us. All day. And we tried to snooze a bit. And up, up went the dosage. And contractions started getting worse. I like to say that this baby wanted to come before he was supposed to, but then he changed his mind, haha πŸ™‚ My labor was not horrible. Just long. The last hour or so was hard. It is all a blur, as many of you know. That bit where all your focus is on that end goal. Trying to get through the pain. And I remember the back massages from my midwife, the squeezes to my hand from hubby, the praying , “God getΒ me through”. Β There was such a neat moment, when a favorite nurse I had when I came in in premature labor at 34 weeks, came in to start her shift right as I was nearing delivery. I don’t even think I acknowledged her much because I was in too much pain, but I remember thinking how God worked. She told me she had heard I was in, but was sure she would miss the birth, because they all knew how far along I was already. She was so surprised to make the delivery πŸ™‚

A few pushes later, with the Dr. barely in the room, and he was here! Crying. “It’s a boy!”. More crying, from baby and the mom and dad πŸ™‚ And our world was changed again. Darian Kent, 6lbs., 13 oz. Beautiful baby boy.

There was still pain to bear, some concern, and me thinking please let it be done. I remember clinging to him, trying to shut out the pain from what I knew was necessary. As I look back, IΒ marvel at how God works, and sustains us . I can say every bit of it was worth it! Every bit! It is why we as mothers choose to go through it all again. πŸ™‚

I still get emotional as I remember. And as I look at how big my boy is getting. I remember how he slept so much during the day. How I woke him to feed him because he had high bilirubin levels. How I had to take him again and again to get his little heel pricked. The wonderful meals that came. That baby smell. A new normal.

Thank you for taking this little trip down memory lane with me πŸ™‚ I would love to hear stories from you, my readers πŸ™‚ So interesting how each child is different! And here are a few pictures of my baby now. HeΒ no longer resembles that skinny little dark haired baby boy πŸ™‚img_20161115_145715img_20161020_13351320161120_093938I snapped this one as he snoozed this morning. Can you tell I love sleeping pictures? πŸ™‚

Enjoy your Sunday, friends!!

 

4 thoughts on “Remembering

  1. Regina Good says:

    Thanks for sharing the miracle birth,and cute pictures of your sweet little boy, Jolene. Children are truly a blessing and gift from God! The only thing on earth, that we can hope to take to heaven with us. Keep on keeping on, friend! πŸ™‚

  2. Oh, how sweet! I love to look back and remember, too. Having waited so long for our sweet boy, I can still recall so much of that wonderful moment when, at last, after waiting SO long, I was finally a mother!! That feeling is something that I can still feel, and I am still in awe at our God Who made it all possible for us to finally have a baby of our own. My, he is 15 years old now, and way taller than me, but he will always be our baby boy. I thank God every day for him and the amazing blessing of being his mama. Thank you for sharing and for letting me share with you, too! God bless you and your sweet family. πŸ™‚

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