A Hard Job....

She'd given birth to 10 children, and yet, this one was her hardest labor. She was so worried about her daughter. Was everything ok? Each time we checked heart tones, she met our eyes with a question in hers. Was that normal? Was her daughter going to be alright? Wasn't this labor too long and too hard?  Shouldn't the baby be born by now? Instead of settling in and letting labor take it's course, she was anxious. She couldn't sleep. She nibbled on food. She asked hundreds of questions. Sometimes she even paced.

Grandmother-to-be is a hard job.

It was 12:22 am on the coldest night of the year when we pulled down the gravel drive in rural KY. A fire kept the Amish home toasty and warm in contrast to the crunchy cold outdoors that shrink-wrapped your skin to your face every time you walked to the outhouse. Kerosene lamps stood, lit, on several surfaces in the main room, giving the house a comfortable feel like warm tea in your belly. After some relaxed conversation and laughter, things quieted down. We all tried to get some rest before the action really picked up.

Labor is a hard job.

She worked so hard, resting when she needed to, and exercising to help move things along. In early afternoon things began to get more uncomfortable, and it seemed that the end was in sight. Baby's heartbeat even gave us a few decelerated readings that seemed promising. A check told us that baby was in an unfavorable position, and we still had a long way to go. She stayed strong and tried so many different tricks to encourage baby to re-position. Her pain moved to her back and became nearly unbearable as darkness visited for the second time in her labor. She begged for relief and another check showed us that things still weren't anywhere near ready for birth. She clung to her husband with each contraction as they somersaulted over her, one right behind the other.

Mother-to-be is a hard job.

He looked earnestly at us as we discussed options for his wife and baby. We could try the birth pool as a last resort, or we could go to the hospital for pain relief. Positions and massage were not offering reprieve any more. He agreed to stoke the wood stove and try to heat enough water to fill an 80 gallon pool up in his kitchen. Up and down the stairs he trekked with armloads of wood. Teapots, soup pots, and canners full of water were heated on propane burners and the wood stove. Finally, the pool was full. His wife found enough relief to doze off a bit between contractions, and in his relief, he was able to crumple on the floor against the kitchen counter and nod off as well.

Father-to-be is a hard job.

With daylight just beginning to show her face, the time had come for little one to make his/her grand appearance. As with the rest of labor, it was an uphill battle. Mommy, Daddy, and Midwives tried so many different positions to talk baby out of his/her timidity. The midwives took turns, because even a certified contortionist wouldn't have outdone us that day. When Mommy needed to, she would push, pull, squeeze, or lean on whomever was available. This midwife now understands the term 'head compression' and knows that when squeezed hard enough, she will see multicolored stars swirling across her field of vision. The other midwife nearly had her jaw dislocated.

Midwife is a hard job.

And then, we could see the head. Slowly, slowly, and after plenty more work, it was here... and turning purple. The shoulder was stuck. But on the way to the birth, God had spoken to the heart of one of the midwives, and she knew to be prepared for this. A few proper moves and 30 seconds later, here was baby. Cord spiraled around her neck, body, and leg, which explains why she had a few incidents of sounding stressed. The focus was untangling the cord, and oops! Maybe we should get that second leg born. Then a deep breath, a snuffle, and a cry. So many lumps on that poor, misshapen head from her difficult escape from the inside.

New baby is a hard job.

Finally everyone was here, happy, and healthy. Grandmother was so relieved, and so proud of her daughter and granddaughter. Labor was over. Mother was curled up with her new little girl, admiring all 9 pounds and 8 ounces of her. Daddy was beaming and making sure morning chores were done. Midwives were planning to sleep cleaning up, filling out paper work, and answering questions. Baby was being cute, the way new babies should. All that to say that sometimes, it takes five people a day and a half to introduce a new baby to the world.