Our Story: Learning To Say “It Is Well”

Learning to say it is wellI felt my first real contraction around 11:00pm on Tuesday, December 23rd, 2014 (your due date) as I was getting ready for bed. That morning, I went out to breakfast with your Papa M at Panera Bread before work so we could have one last Daddy/Daughter date before you arrived. Had I known you would begin your grand entrance at that hour, I might have had that date the morning before. But if there’s one thing that our birth story has taught me, it’s that the future is not in our hands.

As I prepared for your arrival during the months prior to seeing your sweet face, I would often find myself listening to this version of my favorite hymn, It Is Well. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones. Maybe it was God’s stirring in my heart. Maybe it was a lot of both. But every time I listened to this song, it seemed to speak to my soul in a way that it had never before. It was no longer just my song, it was our song. It was a clear message from God that this new role I was about to take on-being your mother-was uncharted waters for me.

I had asked God to expand my territory in 2014 and He was about to do some major demolition in my heart. He was making space. Space for you. Space for love. Space to give myself grace. The firm grip I so often had on my life was loosening each time I listened to that song. In order for space to be made, I would have to follow the next step God was revealing to me. No complete road map for me to look at, just the next step. Just an opportunity to breathe in and out, say “it is well” and place one foot in front of other.

Your dad was on the phone with your Aunt Cristina catching up when I felt that first contraction, marking the final stretch of your time of growth within me. I had been feeling contractions with you for a while, but these were different. It was time.

Breathe in. Breathe out. It is well.

Mixed emotions filled my heart:
Joy for your arrival.
Sadness that I would no longer carry you inside of me.
Doubt of my capability to be the mother you need me to be.
Exhaustion because you chose to start so late at night after I had been up since 6am that morning and put in a full day’s worth of work.
Fear because I hadn’t been able to finish my to-do list at work yet. . . I’m a recovering perfectionist.
Relief that your Papa M, Jammie, Uncle Jonathan, Aunt Michelle, and Truett would be able to meet you during their time here for Christmas.
Excitement to experience your birth after months of reading about the process. Nervousness about being admitted to a hospital for the first time.

Breath in. Breathe out. It is well.

Around 3am on Christmas Eve Day, your sweet daddy and I loaded up the car and headed towards the hospital after experiencing a few hours of close contractions. You weren’t quite ready, so we were sent home. I didn’t want to be THAT woman who went in too early, but I was. I wanted to see your sweet face. I wanted to hold you.

Breathe in. Breathe out. It is well.

After arriving home around 5am, I labored with you all day . . . and I mean all day. No sleep for more than a few 15 minute cat naps happened that day for both of us. There was a lot of focused breathing on my part and a lot of counter pressure applied by your daddy. If we weren’t already tired, this solidified our exhaustion.

Breathe in. Breathe out. It is well.

Around 11:00pm on Christmas Eve, my contractions with you started to get closer and closer again, so your daddy and I got back in our car and headed for the hospital. This time, it was confirmed you were coming. Having progressed to 3cm, we were going to see you on Christmas Day.

Best. Christmas. Present. Ever.

Welcome Laney Drew

After getting to the room where I was going to deliver you, it was about 3am at this point and the doctor came in to see me. We were told that he was going to break my water since I had been in such hard labor for so long without much progression. It was going to make my contractions more intense closer together, which would speed up my progression. Not what I wanted to hear, but we made the decision to go ahead with it. Whoa.

Breath in (Tomy, please don’t stop applying that counter-pressure!). Breathe ow-ow-ooooouuuuut. It is well.

I do believe I spent the next 3 hours of intense and unrelenting contractions singing our song in my head over and over again. Because that’s what they tell you to do; focus your thoughts and breathing on something to help through each contraction. Girlfriend, your momma was working hard as each set of contractions (yeah, I would have 4 contractions in a row and then only get 1.5 minutes break before they would start again) would come. But you were worth it.

So after 3 hours, the doctor came back in to check my progression with you. Your dad and I were anxious to see how much longer it would be until we got to see you. After 32 hours of labor thus far, we were getting pretty excited to see your face. . . and kind of miserable from all those excruciating contractions.

After those 3 hours, we were told that I had not progressed any further than I was before they broke my water. Not what we wanted to hear. Not a pace that we would be able to keep after working so hard for so long. I looked into your dad’s face and saw sheer exhaustion. He looked into mine and saw the same. At that point, neither of us had slept for more than a few minutes in over 48 hours. It was with a reluctant heart that I requested an epidural. Months of reading and preparation for a natural birth, we were going to continue the process with an epidural.

Breathe in. Breathe out (let go of your expectations for a drug-free birth). It is well.

Well, there is a reason why so many women get an epidural. Within minutes, the excruciating pain was gone. Your daddy could sleep. I could breathe and my body could fully relax. Jammie visited us in the room that morning and Papa M headed to the airport to pick up you aunt, uncle, and cousin. We tried to sleep, only getting in a few 15 minute naps. Even though I couldn’t feel the pain, I still seemed to be restless with anticipation of your arrival.

After another 12 hours of labor since the epidural, I was checked again, only to see that I was at a 7 and we were quickly approaching the end of the safe window since my water had been broken. Pitocin was recommended to help me progress. We agreed and the medicine was administered. More drugs. We were getting further and further from the birth I had expected. But even though things weren’t panning out like I had hoped they would, peace kept washing over your daddy and me. We were watching our story unfold. We were getting closer to becoming a family of 3.

Breathe in. Breathe out. It is well.

After few hours of labor and our doctor proclaimed I was finally at a 9, just shy of a 10. Hope. Excitement. Light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel joy. Your Jammie had since gone home to eat dinner and spend time with the family. Your daddy and I were excited to see you and we knew we would be getting the best Christmas present ever. You. Our sweet little Laney Drew.

Breathe in. Breathe out. It is well.

A 9. A “stretchy 9.” That’s what I was for about another 2 hours. Any time now. You were descending and all that needed to happen was for my body to fully progress so you could make your debut. But that “stretchy 9” wasn’t going anywhere. The doctor came in and suggested we go ahead with a c-section since my water had been broken for about 18 hours. What? A c-section? No. We called our families and asked them to pray for clear direction. We didn’t want to have you via c-section. That was the last thing we wanted. You were, as our nurse put it, “the best looking baby she had seen all day.” You weren’t in any sort of distress. I was a 9, almost 10. We decided to wait another hour or so.

Breathe in. Breathe out. It is well.

It didn’t take the full hour for my body to start to change. Something was up. Even though I had an epidural, I started to have an overwhelming sense that you were going to come. I had heard women talk about the “bearing down” sensation they feel when your body wants to push. Oh, there was no question in my mind that I was feeling that sensation. Your nurse was delivering another baby, so we had to wait for about 45 minutes for her to be done so she could check to see if I was actually ready to push.

Your daddy and I, up until this point, had been full of hope that I was going to fully progress. Our nurse had been cheering us on each time she would come in. She reminded me that it can happen at any time. Only this time, she had a different perspective. My “stretchy 9” was not progressing. You were progressing. I was not. In fact, I was going backwards. I was starting to swell. Confirmation.

Your daddy and I made the difficult decision. With tears in my eyes, I said “yes” to having the c-section. One more time, I had to let go of my expectations for how you were going to enter this world.

Breathe in. Breathe out (God you’ve got this). It is well.

Before I knew it, I was being wheeled down the hall and into the operating room. Your daddy kissed me before I went through the door and waited until he could come into the room. It was the first time we had been apart since the first contraction over 47 1/2 hours ago. He would later tell me that he has never seen me more at peace than I was before I went through the doors, and I was. Even though the story was not going as planned, God was in control. He was in control. He was writing our story.

The doctors and nurses were busy making preparations for the surgery. I was on the operating table, singing our song in my head, and cherishing these last few minutes of carrying you inside of me. Our sweet little girl. Our gift. Our Laney Drew.

Breathe in. Breathe out. It is well.

It was only a matter of minutes after your daddy came into the room and sat next to me that I heard your first cry. . .

Laney's First Picture You were here.
11:05pm.
December 25, 2014.
7lbs. 12oz.
21″ long.

Your daddy got to hold you while they finished my surgery, but he brought you over to me so I could see your full head of dark hair, your gorgeous blue eyes, and your sweet little lips. I had been dreaming of what you would look like for so long and I was finally seeing your sweet face. We didn’t think we could love any more than we already did, but your daddy put it perfectly: “Now I know what the Grinch felt like when his heart grew 3 sizes.” You proved us wrong. We never knew a love like this. You changed our lives in the most beautiful way.

IMG_0339Laney Drew in stockingBreathe in. Breathe out. It is well. It is well with my soul.


Our story didn’t go as I had planned, but that’s something you will soon experience for yourself, sweet girl. Toys will break. Relationships might end. You may not make the team. Your imperfect parents will mess up. My prayer for our story, as it continues, is that we are able to teach you the wonderful freedom and joy found in humbly submitting to God and His plan. It may not always be fun. It may not always be glamorous. It may not always be comfortable. It may not always make sense. But God will always be with you, and that is all you need.

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Laney's first Sunday at church

Take the next step. Breathe in. Breathe out. It is well.

.: Act Justly | Love Mercy | Walk Humbly :.

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Table Topics Tuesday: Happiness In The Present

Table Topic Tuesday 1.22.13

I recently purchased a set of “Table Topics: Happiness” from Target the other week and I love them! (Did I mention they were 90% off?!) They are great conversation starters and fun to flip through. Last week, I came across this card as I was getting ready and  it’s been my head constantly ever since.

Each year, it’s evident everyone is at least somewhat discontent with where they are currently. Why else would there be New Year’s Resolutions? I know I’ve spent most of my time these first few weeks of 2013 imagining what life will be like in 5-10 years. I’ve already written out a few practical action steps to make those dreams come true- blogging is one of them!

I firmly believe vision and personal growth are a good thing (I am actually very passionate about them), but I feel when we focus too much on the future we miss out on a great opportunity to truly enjoy the moment and the place we’re at in life RIGHT NOW. There’s always something that the present teaches us: contentment.

Take a moment today and think your life in its current state. Even if you’re not where you imagine yourself in 5-10 years, identify the things in your life that you can celebrate. Dwell on it. Thank God for it. Choose to have an attitude of joy because of it. Be content with yourself.

As you continue your week, be intentional about taking a moment each day to find the good in life. If you think hard enough, you’ll find one. . . and some days it might only be just one. If it is, cling tightly to it and don’t let busyness and stress steal it away from you.

Oh, and don’t worry, you’re not alone. I’m going to re-read this post tomorrow as well.

Act Justly. Love Mercy. Walk Humbly.

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