A Little Birth Story a Little Late

I have been in celebration mode for a while now. Birthdays, valentines and more birthdays galore. Major turned 1 on February 5th. Oh, that little delicious baby melts me. He gives kisses like crazy. Just this week he has started making the accompanying sound effects “mmmmm” and puckering up before he goes in for the real kiss and opens his mouth to slobber all over each of our faces. He prefers to kiss everyone, one by one, and then around the group again. Who would have thought that slobber kisses would melt every single member of this family every single time? They do. He isn’t walking yet. He could if he wanted to but he’s taking his time. I’m okay with that because watching him crawl has a similar effect on all of us as the kisses. When he crawls his fastest and with serious intent, we all melt into giggles and our hearts almost burst with pure adoration. Silly, I know. We all know, but we don’t care. He’s growing up so fast. We’re just soaking him in. We all still speak who gets to hold him in church and who gets to get him out of his crib after naps and each morning. Sometimes I take one for the team and stay in bed. I know, such a saint. Piper cried after his first haircut because it’s going too fast. Her mother’s daughter. Major says ‘mama’, ‘dad’, ‘more’ in sign language, ‘all done’ in sign and with his words, ‘uh-oh’ when he drops something or wants to drop something. He’ll throw in a few more phrases and words here and there whenever he wants to and surprises us. He can say more than he is saying right now. Crayton did the same thing until one day he woke up and said ‘I’d like a bowl of cereal, please.’ Major is like his daddy, almost always pleasant. He is an eater. It’s almost shocking to everyone how much that little monkey can pack in.We’re waiting for him to become friendly. He sticks pretty close to mom and dad and Piper and yells at anyone else who attempts to get close. On occasion he’ll go to Uncle Cole, Uncle Wes or one amazing Sunday, a man named Jeff who I think he recognized from heaven or something because he has never taken to someone like that. It was remarkable for our unfriendly little guy. Ryan and I might hire him for date night sometime. He maybe has an established career but I’m sure wouldn’t be offended by the going babysitter rate we pay our kids. $1 if they don’t call us for contention resolution, $1 if there isn’t any fighting, $1 if everyone is in bed by the time we get home and $1 for a picked up domain when we get back. It’s beautiful. Jeff will agree, I’m sure, and then take himself to get 4 oz. of frozen yogurt with the whopping $4 earnings. Win, win.

Major is a little light and we love love love him. He is surrounded today, just as he was the day he was born by a family who is so glad he came.

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On the eve of his birthday this year, I could almost close my eyes and be exactly back in the place I was 1 short year ago. The year mark of the eve of his birth was so special to me, almost sacred, because that’s when he started his descent from heaven to this family. As the hours passed I could recount everything that we did one year ago. From the kids cleaning out the chinchilla cage and fighting like little cats and dogs, to the trip to Costco, where I had pains down my thighs that made me think that I might have him in the next week or so. To the pushing him out into the safety of my hands and arms and saying over and over and over to him through the tears, ‘I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.’ It was the message I wanted him to hear first on this earth. On the eve of his birthday this year I kissed his still-velvet head and whispered over and over ‘I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.’ again. I thought back to that night as we drove frantically to the hospital.

My parents had gotten to the house just as my labor intensified. It was late at night. From my walk to the kitchen to the time I got to the car, I had already had 3 strong contractions. He was coming fast. As we drove down our street about 4 houses down, I felt Major drop. It was almost audible to me. ‘Thunk!’ Before we even hit the end of the street I had said to Ryan ‘I don’t think we’re going to make it.’ And Ryan said ‘I know, we need gas.’ It was at the gas station about 1 mile away that I started feeling the need to push. We still had 15 minutes to get there at least. I was looking around the car as I knelt on the front seat facing backwards for supplies that might suffice, were this baby to be born in the car. There was a pair of shoes in the back seat. Good, a shoelace to tie off the cord. There was a suit coat that we could wrap the baby in so he didn’t get cold. That was it by way of supplies. We were driving so fast and running red lights and Ryan was calling my Dr. telling him that he needed to meet us there a.s.a.p.. He kept asking me’ what should I do?’ I would reply things like ‘drive faster’ ‘not so fast’ ‘Stop, we’re not going to make it.’ And ‘please keep going.’ It was a tight rope act for him the whole way there. In between answering his questions about what to do, I was talking myself through a very intense labor. I was remembering things that Ryan had told me in a priesthood blessing before we left home and involuntarily repeating them to myself. I was repeating ‘I am strong’ I am strong. I am strong.’ Over and over and over again. It was empowering to know that Heavenly Father felt that I was strong. I knew that, and now I knew that He knew that and together, He, Ryan and Myself, we were very, very strong. I needed to remind myself of that. Along with those words, I was trying to comfort Ryan with my self-talk as well, ‘I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.’ I wanted to assure him because I knew that he was in a challenging situation too. The ‘I’m strong’ and the ‘I’m okay It was the only way to cope with what was really too sacred to be described as simply as ‘pain’. We finally got to the hospital and I got into the delivery room at record speed after the nurses decided to take Ryan seriously about how fast I have babies. There was running involved and lots of ‘don’t push!’ flying around my head by the voices of the nurses I didn’t even lay eyes on until after he was born. It was so intense I couldn’t even open my eyes. I wasn’t in that room for long before Major was born, almost on the gurney they wheeled me in on. A doctor came in to catch him. She was so nice but smelled of something horrific. They brought him immediately to my arms and I thought how strange it was to still be in my normal clothes after giving birth instead of the usual hospital attire. I can still feel his whisper-soft skin on my face and lips. He was Peace. This year as I laid him in his bed on his birthday-eve, I added to the ‘I love you’s’, another phrase as I kissed his head. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you. You’re strong, you’re okay, I love you, I love you, I love you.’ Over and over and over until his eyes fluttered and he was dreaming of the Heaven he left one short year ago to come here. To our Heaven. I hope those words ring with him in his soul forever. He is strong. He is okay. He is loved.

And still, we are so happy he came.