“This says ‘not pregnant’,” I noted uncertainly. I glanced again, my eyes widening as the faintest pink line formed next to the control line. I hoped my eyes deceived me. No way we were pregnant. Jonathan came into the bathroom and looked wide-eyed at me. “I hope there are no false positives, right?”
Oh shoot. We were pregnant.
It’s not that I didn’t want a third child, but I had not solidified a third child in my head. I had begun to think that raising two little boys was the final destination. The first year of my second son’s life was so traumatizing that the vision of having more kids had trailed off. And that was fine.
I also loved being a boy mom. It was empowering. I love that my boys have each other. Their energy for life and others is contagious. Not one for being a huge craft lover, I preferred that my boys enjoy being outdoors as much as possible. They love to occasionally draw, but physical activity is their love language. Wrestling and racing had become new favorites.
But with this positive pregnancy test came change. And my husband and I are hesitant to change.
But God…
As the popular saying goes, tell God your plans and watch him laugh. God had other plans. My “natural” birth control method (of trying to track my cycle) failed completely and this became the catalyst of our third child.
So when I learned that not only was I pregnant a third time, but I was pregnant with a baby girl, my head went swimming. I was worried, frantic, and all-consumed with thoughts that this was not a plan I would have picked.
On the other hand, I felt a deep-seated peace that this had been God’s plan all along, and no amount of my own planning or timing would have changed the plans that He had for our family.
I had to let go of my fears and hold on to peace. This child had started forming in my womb by God’s design. He was the one in control of this baby. The same had happened with my other two sons. God held all the cards. He had started the game, but He was not setting me up to lose.
When I had finally let God’s peace that transcends all understanding guard my heart and mind, I began to relax into the pregnancy. Until I recognized that my third child was in His hands, I would always hold tightly to my own worries.
A Birth Announcement
Rushing forward to the end of pregnancy, I was two weeks away from her due date, but I felt like I was already two weeks behind. I fell into the mindset that the third child would come early and quickly. And man, did my boys wear me out with their constant need to be doing something. My body felt foreign, my mind became an outdated phone, and going from point A to point B felt like traveling up a sand dune. I trudged through each day feeling ten steps behind.
Jonathan, my husband, wanted to make sure we did not have a home birth with this baby, so at the first signs of labor, he prompted me to call the doctor. My contractions had started slowly the night before, just a couple days before her actual due date. These contractions continued very mildly when I called the doctor around 2:30pm to let her know that I was laboring at home. Even though they were very consistent (about 2-3 minutes apart), I could easily talk through them. I knew the hospital just might turn me away.
When we arrived at the hospital at 4pm,
I sat through the hospital paperwork just fine, becoming frustrated that my contractions were stalling. I wanted to be up and moving, bouncing, or anything to continue progressing labor.
Thankfully I had progressed enough (to 4 centimeters) when I arrived at the labor and delivery room. They admitted me and told me to (insert audible groan) walk the hospital hallways. If you remember from my first birth, I walked the hallways of the hospital for HOURS before they even brought me to a labor and delivery room. Walking hallways is not nearly as fun as walking the great outdoors. But I acquiesced, and lunge the hallways I did.
My contractions picked up in intensity, but they still didn’t feel very strong.
Every hour the nurse came in to check baby’s heartbeat and my contraction levels. I felt like every time I laid in the bed, my contractions would stall a bit. Waiting for her to hook all the monitors on me, I knew it was for the baby’s health, but I grew annoyed at how many times (in other words, how many hours) the nurse had to check on me and baby girl. Labor was taking too long!
And then contractions soon became too intense to lay on the bed anymore. When the midwife came in to check me, she exclaimed that I was already at 7cm and 100% effaced! And she couldn’t believe I was still talking and briefly smiling. Every contraction brings me closer to meeting my little girl, was all I could think. Labor pain is good. My body knows what to do, were continued mantras in my mind to push me past the next contraction.
Seven centimeters must have quickly changed to transition, the 8-10cm opening, because I remember sitting on the bed, crying, telling Jonathan that this time I would get the epidural. The pain was too much. Had I been in this much pain with my other two births? I couldn’t remember nor could I think much. Jonathan encouraged me to breathe and gently reminded me that I had already ventured this non-medicated journey before, and I could do it again. And after that my mind was made up: I would do it.
At 10:00pm my water broke.
This was the very first time my water broke naturally. It felt like a bubble bursting inside of me. And there was so much water. There was no denying that my baby was well on her way.
From 10-11pm I did everything I could to hold on to each crashing wave that was a contraction. I knew that once she was out, the pain would stop. But, oh my, the pain was inteeeeeense.
I buried my head in my hands. I wanted to sink into the floor and disappear from my pain. So badly I wanted to be at the pushing stage, but I didn’t think I was there yet. I had felt my second son coming down the birth canal, but I could not feel this little babe’s head. And yet, the midwife and everyone involved came in quietly and started slipping on gloves, masks, and medical ware. However, I did not notice because I was next to the bed, burying my head as far as I could into the mattress.
I heard the midwife say that she could deliver baby girl from where I was positioned on the bed, but it would be much easier if I could try to turn around. I told her and the nurses I would go wherever, but they would have to move me; I could not move myself. And I was concerned that my body was not ready to push. I didn’t feel a head nor an overwhelming urge to push. I didn’t want to push for hours, only to exhaust myself.
At 11:00pm the midwife told me it was time to push!
My body had the urge, but I really didn’t think it was time yet. With each contraction I pushed…until baby girl’s head was right at the opening. And she stayed there for several pushes, creating a burning sensation so intense I screamed curse words into the room. “Oh shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii……..”
Baby girl felt like she was complacent right at the opening between her safe cocoon and the outside world. She was “sunny-side up” as they say, not an ideal position. The encouraging nurses and midwife urged me toward just one more big push. I sure hoped they were right because this pain was the most intense I had ever felt!
On that last big push, her strong little body performed a 180-degree turn, and she came out, eyes wide open, hands in the air. She came out praising.
I immediately started crying and asked if baby Hope was crying. I wanted her to cry, to inhale the earth’s oxygen into her lungs, to be alive in this world. It took her a minute, but she let out a little cry, and I let out my own cry of relief. Relief that my pregnancy journey was over. Reassurance for Hope’s safe arrival. The release of a million worries that never came true.
She was 6 pounds and 6 ounces with a full head of hair. Every bit of her perfect.
After a monumental effort on both of our parts, we both laid peacefully in silence for a little while: me remembering the faithfulness of God, her relishing in being skin-to-skin with her mama.
Our daughter Hope Aghavni was born. And this precious angel of hope has us all murmuring terms of endearment and reaching out to stroke her soft cheeks or the palms of her hand. Her name, which had come to us before we even knew the trajectory of everything that had transpired in our family, was perfect in every way. Her name spoke of God’s provision, His faithfulness, and our living hope: the good news of Jesus. Aghavni, Armenian for dove, my maiden name and a tribute to my heritage. A hope-filled people sacrificing everything for a better future.
Hope, our precious girl, embodies all the promises of a God who knows exactly what we need before our hearts are ready. Loving us before we even knew Him. And who gave His only son to release us from bondage and set us free.
As I pushed, “You Satisfy My Soul” played out into the chaos. “You make my heart sing/You lift me on eagles wings/Just when I thought that my heart it would faint/You take the darkest night and turn it into shining light/Just when I thought that the night had won.”
The dark trauma of our past was obliterated with a burning light that nothing could extinguish. Hope entered our world, bright-eyed and peaceful. Beautiful and soft. Filling my arms with her presence. The tears we experienced in labor were shared in the joyful embrace of birth, a mother, father, and their child enveloped in God’s love for them all.
As our new adventure as a family of five begins, we would soon learn, His promises are always true. He is always with us, bringing us closer to Him each step we take in our lives.
And that is Hope we can hold.
