All Beginnings Have a Beginning

 

So I have to start somewhere.

How about Friday, November 13th, year of our Lord 2020?
Hello to you, Ransom Arthur Owen!

Though some assume that by the time one reaches a tenth baby, labor must be dull, let me assure you it's not. Labor will always be just that-- labor-- and I'm a vessel brimful of relief and gratefulness when God brings another baby safely into our lives. The uncomplicated arrival of a new little one is always cause for thanks, as labor and delivery faithfully drive home the point that life and death are not under our control.

I was pleased when Ransom didn't arrive before his due date, and even more pleased when he waited several days after that. Not only did I have an eternal to-do list and hours of labor (both kinds) hanging over my head like Damocles's sword, but also, in spite of typical pregnancy pain and discomfort, I was savoring his presence curled so close within me. A wonder every time.

Fitful prodromal labor woke me through Wednesday night and then consistently continued on Thursday. I was awake through all the early morning hours of Friday, even though John tried to lull me to sleep with raccoon videos. When everyone else woke up, I prepared to leave for my ob. appointment, tired from a night of no sleep and hoping the baby would either come soon (so I could sleep) or that contractions would stop entirely (so I could sleep). Those priorities are solid!

John took the day off, and after the appointment we ran errands while I tried to decide whether to go to the hospital or not. That afternoon, contractions were uncomfortable enough that we went on a romantic date to the hospital parking lot, followed by a romantic walk punctuated with stops for me to double over and wait for contractions to end. That's the sign! We entered the hospital around 3:30, and Ransom was born at 5:15, just in time to enjoy a romantic hospital supper while we marveled over him.

And I marveled over John, too. Watching this good man hold our babies is one of my favorite things.

COVID protocol allowed no visitors, so we left as fast as we could and returned home around bedtime on Saturday, happy to see our children, exhausted and ready for rest, and thoroughly wrapped around the tiny finger of this Sunbeam.