Me: "Who has the best seat in the house, me or daddy?"

Adam: "Well, Daddy's is nice, but yours is best. Your's is squishier."

Friday, February 12, 2010


I have to tread lightly here. Talking about this too much makes me emotional and that makes my body react.

I started contracting two nights ago.

Science fair projects were all over the floor for three of our kids, (and Tessa, wanting to join in... so make that four project boards). Laundry, of course, where is has been for weeks, unfolded and everywhere. Ellie’s birthday was to be had the next day and nothing done for it. Adam, sweet Addy-boy tried to work on his project alone and scalded his little hand pouring boiling water.

Then poor Ethan found that his baby chicks died in the incubator inside their eggs. He sat beside me and cried, and bam… I started contracting.

The midwives came the next day to counsel and leave herbs, but most importantly, to listen for baby.

And thunka-thunka, there it was. Hallelujah. Thank you, thank you thank you, baby. Thank you, God. But then for the next 24 hours, I still contracted.

So today, I prayed.

This was my prayer. Out loud. Rather loud.

Father, please please please let me keep this baby. I love it. I want to birth it into my hands. I want to bring it to my breast and nurse it. I want to sleep beside it. I want to see it learn to crawl, walk, run. I want to take it to kindergarten, see it graduate high school, college, get married, and then I want to hold this baby’s babies. Please.

More than that of course, as much repetition and pleading were involved.

Then I talked to my uterus:

You have two jobs. That’s it, two; feed and shelter. End of story. I don’t give you permission to do anything but that. So cut it out.

Then I talked to my baby. That is between me and baby.

Then I talked to me. I told me not to be scared. The only job I have right now is that of mother. And a mother protects her children, even from her own fear. This isn’t happening just to me. This is happening to the baby, too, and if I feel the stress, so does baby.

I told myself, and I listened.

Then I wiped my tears, and praised my uterus for listening. (Good job, uterus). Like you do with a toddler when they listen for like, six seconds, but you want to affirm that they are on the right track, so you praise them for every tiny effort.

Good job, uterus.

Then I realized I had been feeling very threatened and disconnected from this organ, this cozy nest, really, that has grown my beautiful children in it. Angry at it, even. So I cut that out. I think now we have an agreement.

I haven’t had a contraction since our little talk this afternoon.

I am going to have this baby in August.

For now, I am on bedrest.

Please include us in your prayers (don't forget my uterus).


Elizabeth said...

how scary - and how loving and wise your tender care for yourself, your uterus, your baby.

Bratton Family said...

Lanie! I'm so happy for you guys. We're praying for you guys! Sure love ya and miss ya.