She was born under a full moon. We named her Harper Jane, in honor of my grandmother’s middle name (Harper) and my great aunt (Jane). She weighed 7.5 and was 19.5 inches long. She has a full head of strawberry blond hair that is so long it goes over her shoulders! She looks a lot like her big brother, Grant, but also just a
lot like her own person.

It’s hard to know exactly where to start the birth story, since I had two
weeks of strong pre-labor contractions including one 21 hour period of
regular, strong contractions and one 34+ hours of regular, strong
contractions. The main event began on Sunday. I was 4 days overdue by that
point, and pretty worn out from all the pre-labor. We went to upper crust
for breakfast and then went to Zilker park to ride the Train – maybe it was
the bumpy train ride, because later on at 1 pm my water broke at home.
Within 15 minutes of my water breaking I was having intense contractions
that were around 3 minutes apart. We called our amazing, wonderful doula
Laura Nattinger, and started getting ready for the task
at hand. Grant took his regular nap and when he woke up, Brandon took him
over to Rebecca Ray’s house to hang out with his buddy Finn until my mother
in law could arrive from south Texas. It was a big relief to have Grant
squared away and with the help of Laura, Brandon and I got into an awesome
groove here at the house. We were at my kitchen Island for hours, with
Brandon providing counter pressure on my lower back and Laura massaging my
hands and shoulders and talking me through each contraction. We had a great
itunes playlist on and candle light in the kitchen – it was just an
amazingly peaceful and painful and exciting experience.

The interesting thing about my labor was that it wasn’t at all text book in
its progression. I had nine hours of laboring at home where the contractions
were around 3 minutes apart and very intense. By all accounts, I looked as
if I was going through the later stages of labor for a long time. We live
very close to Seton and when I started getting nauseous I decided I want to
go ahead and get to the hospital.

After getting situated and checked, we were all surprised to find out that I
was only 2.5 cm dilated. In retrospect, if I had not had the calm confidence
of Laura there I think I would have completely fallen apart at the seams at
this point since the work I had done was extremely hard, for what looked
like very little progress. My doctor later shared with me that at this point
she did not think I would end up having a successful VBAC. I just had still
so far to go and the contractions looked like transition level contractions
at only 2.5 cm. It was at this point that I realized that my main goal was
to have a successful VBAC, and that if that meant medicating so that I could
relax and dilate more, that is what I needed to do. I didn’t feel like I was
giving up at all, I felt really proud to have made it 9 hours in that
condition, and felt like my best course of action was to find some way of
relaxing through the contractions to open more. At around 10 pm, I got an
epidural, which was great – I could still feel the rise of the contractions,
and had a lot of sensation in my legs, ect, I just relaxed. Laura was such a
wonderful support to both Brandon and I, giving us so much information so
that we felt like we were completely informed of how things were
progressing. Through the night, I progressed about a centimeter an hour -
naturally, without pitocin – which was awesome and a stark contrast to my
first labor (which was induced for pre-eclampsia and was 24 hours that ended
in a c-section). We all tried to rest some, and Laura and I stayed up a bit
chatting about our kids and birth and AP. I was feeling the contractions
lightly, but I felt so calm and peaceful and happy that I was progressing
and that I had made it this far.

At around 4 am I had made it to ten centimeters. They let her head come down
to +1 and warned me that it may be a few hours of pushing since I had never
done that before. I was feeling nervous about the pushing and so excited to
meet her. Even with the medication, I could feel every contraction so I had
a good sense of when to push. They kept the lights down really low and
everyone in the room was super calm and zen like. As the pushing process
started I felt an amazing progression of emotions from exposed and nervous
to unsure – then as the mirror was wheeled out I felt amazed, humbled and so
loved and supported by my awe struck husband. I pushed for less than 40
minutes and it was the most amazing and beautiful experience that I can
imagine having. That women for centuries have been giving birth and life
through labor and to be a part of that great circle is just a wonderful
blessing that I am full of thanks for.

Harper feels like a soul that I already know, like she was always meant to join our family. She is not even 48 hours old and I love her more than life itself.

There is so much joy associated with expecting our second baby. And also so much sadness. I find myself lately savoring the moments with Grant as my only child and feeling like I want to hold onto them for longer than necessary, to freeze the time and appreciate the symbiosis between us. Me, the mother of just him, for just now.

At our ultrasound a few weeks ago I felt so torn between being captivated by the screen and the tiny blinking heartbeat of the child growing inside of me and the child we have in the here and now, watching with awe and curiosity. There wasn’t enough time to watch the both of them, and I felt like this was a preview of what it will be like for me as the mother of two. Stretched between the two of them, wishing I had two sets of eyes.

In the early hours of the morning, I often lay awake listening to the three of us breathing. These were the hours I spent nursing and comforting my baby for more than two years, so to be able to just sleep is too foreign to my body now. It’s as if it feels strange and awkward to only be responsible for my own well being in the night. The Japanese hold a belief about co-sleeping that the parents are two ends of the river bank, and the children are the river between them in the bed. Such a lovely illustration, and I think about it in those early morning hours. Grant likes to be touching both of us while he sleeps, usually a foot on my shoulder, and his head near Brandon’s shoulder. A river of truth and energy between us.

In those quiet hours, I find myself wondering how it will be to jump up from my bed to the cries of another baby. Will I leave my now big kid to attend to the baby with a touch of sadness to be missing out on his breathing while I’m gone? Surely I will be just as in sync with the next beloved child, but how will it feel on a deeper level to fully parent both at the same time? Time will tell.

For now I am counting the weeks until my tummy grows too large for me to comfortably lay on my back while Grant lays directly on top of me, cheek to cheek trying to match his much quicker breathing pattern to my slower one. This is one of our nightly rituals while I help him to fall asleep in his own bed for a few hours, so that Brandon and I can have some time together before he wakes to join us in our bed. The routines we have set up will be changing to accommodate a larger family. Some of the changes are big (like weaning) and some littler, like this breathing dance. I am clinging to these changes some, embracing some of them, and in the midst of it wondering how it will all work.

I know the banks of the river are strong, and I find immense comfort in that. I am waving to Brandon from my side as if to say, “I’m here! How are you holding up over there?” We can do this. We were born to do it. And the river will be flowing between us always.