Our Daughter: Thank Heaven!

Elisheva Louise Wrenn Gordon made her grand entrance into the world on March 31st, 2012 at 2:05 pm EST. She was a delicate 6 pounds, 8 ounces, and 20 inches long. In case you're wondering, her first name is pronounced "El-ee-SHEV-ah". If you're having trouble, just call her Ellie. She was named after the mother of John the Baptist, who was also the wife of Aaron the priest. She was the cousin that Mary visited when she was pregnant with Jesus, and their babies "leaped in the womb". Elisheva was an encouragement to Mary. Eli means "my God". Sheva can mean either "oath" or "sustenance". ("Sheva" also means seven in Hebrew.) The name Elisheva means "my God has sworn" or "God's promise". According to some interpretations, Elisheva was the same as Puah, one of the righteous midwives mentioned in Exodus 1. Those who hold this interpretation believe that her position as ancestress of the priestly caste was a reward for saving the Hebrew children. (Gotta love wiki, right?)
The Birth Story:
Ellie was due to arrive April 7th, 2012. Although I wanted her to come early, perhaps on the birthday of my dearly loved, late grandmother Alice (April 3rd), I certainly was not expecting her today. In fact, I had several things planned for today. A morning spa day with my co-worker/girlfriend, the usual tag team with Akil over Avi's hockey practice (while I watch Isaiah at home) and the Saturday afternoon work session (where I planned to get all that last minute work done before starting leave). I was even planning to take Avi on another "mommy date night" to a Worship Jam session. There was much work to be done as far as I was concerned.
Well, since I already had a fresh coat of paint on my nails and toes from last week, I had to come up with something else to do at the spa. A little waxing, a foot massage to soothe those achy pregnant feet. I relaxed, and told the girl "work on the bottom of my feet, they are so tight". Initially she protested, "I'm not supposed to do that because you're pregnant". I replied, "this girl's practically fully baked, I won't tell on you if I go into labor." She agreed and I felt so grateful for it. Around 11:15am I was due to get Isaiah, but running late, so I asked Akil to drop him by the spa (which is across the street from our house). In the meantime, I told my friend, Liz, I think I should go to the bathroom and check myself out, I think I might be having contractions. But there was someone in the bathroom, and I didn't feel like waiting. I glanced at the clock, sensing there was a kind of rhythm to my usual "contractions" that I don't usually "count". I thought today maybe Avi should miss hockey, as it was a 30 minute drive. Another option was to see if Liz could stay with me and Isaiah just in case. I asked her if she could stay (she has a 6 month old herself and a husband likely anxious to get her back home). She was contemplating, and after consulting her hubby (who wondered aloud, why is hockey more important than labor?) she agreed to stay until I could get my other "1st call team" to come to the house.

When Akil arrived at the spa, I tried to break it coolly that I might be in early labor. I ran through the options, and he too wondered why I was still trying to get Avi to go to hockey practice. Truth is, I didn't believe I was in labor, and I would feel guilty if he missed practice for nothing. On the other hand, if he missed the birth (which he was planning to attend and cut the cord), that would be equally bad (not to mention Akil would miss it too). So reason won over denial (momentarily) and I agreed to go home and lay down to "count my contractions". Akil asked if I wanted him to drive me. Of course, I insisted on walking back--the same way I got there (denial returns quickly).
Before we left the spa, Liz asked me how far apart the contractions were. This is when I realized that despite medical school and two other children, I had no idea how to properly "count contractions'. I always counted the "space of no pain", the length of time the contractions were separated by. This makes sense since as a woman seeking natural birth, my main criteria for going to hospital is when I think the pain is too great to stay home. Turns out you're supposed to count from start to start. No wonder why I'm always getting to the hospital right when the baby comes out!. I was already 4 minutes apart. But I'm thinking, this means they're going to make me go in early, and I don't want to labor there (even though I knew I should to avoid a "car birth").
We got back home around 11:30am and I proceed to question the reality of labor: "Do I have to count a back contraction? Shouldn't I wait until they really hurt to count them?". Akil and Liz (both doctors) just shook their heads. I tried to keep Akil from calling my midwife, childishly refusing to remind him of the name of the practice (he actually started to go through our medical papers to get the number). I eventually agreed to call, and after the most confusing answering service navigation ever, I finally got the midwife on call on the line. I reminded her that this was baby #3, that I have a history of fast labors, and that I was 4 minutes apart for the past hour. But maybe the calmness of my voice was too soothing, and she recommended I call her back in an hour. Even I knew that was crazy. I kindly suggested that I'd call her sooner if the contractions got stronger or closer together.
Akil started calling members of our "on call" team. I didn't want people missing work or messing up a beautiful Saturday for a false alarm, so I was torn. But I had to let Liz go home at some point (although she made for a very excellent doula). So we planned out our approach. We would give everyone a heads up and give regular updates. My contractions were getting stronger and both Akil and Liz were keeping count. The problem is, I'm terrible at keeping track when distracted so I would leave out a few, or misstate when one was starting. I lamented, "this is so complicated", Akil lamented, "this was so much easier when you just woke me up in the middle of the night ready to go to the hospital". I mostly complained that I wasn't ready to go the hospital, I wanted to stay home longer. At one point, Akil asked Liz "how far apart were those?" I knew they were close so I quickly mouthed to Liz "don't tell him". She replied semi-honestly, "Well either 2 minutes or 4 minutes apart". We laughed and I said, "2, 4, what's the difference?" But after 30 minutes and now needing to focus during contractions, I agreed to was time to call back the midwife and basically tell her I was coming in.
We loaded up the car, and got to the hospital. Liz's relief team came (a couple from our church small group) and reinforcements were on the way. Despite my pre-registration, they insisted I fill out duplicate paperwork and told me they would get me a room "soon". About 20 minutes later, I'm laboring in the hallway, still waiting and wondering what is the deal. I think because I didn't come in after my water broke, and I look so calm they are taking their time. I got fed up after a while, and ask Akil to be a bully and get me a birthing room STAT. 5 minutes later we get back and the medical circus begins.
We're actually completing an "admission interview", with the SAME questions on my electronic medical record, in my pre-admission registration, and what I just answered at the front desk (this is why we need health reform!). I delegate Akil to this round of redundancy and remind the nurse that I tend to progress quickly. She's debating the IV, they can't find anyone free to start one and I'm supposed to get antibiotics as a precaution. My midwife arrives and I tell them they are losing their window to start an IV and that if it's no difference to them I'd gladly do without it. A few contractions later I tell them, "my water just broke". They finally get around to checking my cervix and tells me "you're complete." I'm thinking "they really should be getting ready to catch this baby".
Avi's playing games on Akil's phone, the nurses clear the room '"to get help", and we're all alone. I think Akil is the only one any paying attention at this point. I tell Akil, "this is kind of like a home birth, we're pretty much by our self here". The midwife comes back and asks me "do you feel the urge to push?" I reply, "well, I could, but I don't have to. I'm okay" (another case of ridiculous pain tolerance outweighing reason). She says, well listen to your body and if you want to push see if it helps the pain at all. Next contraction I try pushing a little, "wow, that does feel better". (Mind you, the bed is not broken down and I'm lying partly on my side). Next contraction I feel baby coming down fast. "Oh, you know, I think she's coming out". Akil pulls back the sheet and says, "yeah she's coming". Since the nurse is still donning her gloves, with one hand she pushes the call button and with the other she guides my hand down while asking, "do you want to get her?" I say, "Sure" and give a little push and grab her head. Next contraction, and she's in my arms. I'm cracking up inside thinking, "I just delivered my own baby, does that mean I get a discount on my hospital fees?"
And there you have it. Another hilarious memory. An angel born on her own terms, in the full light of the sun. Avi steps in to cut the cord and eventually Isaiah comes to meet his new sister.

Will post more pictures later. Now, I really should probably rest. :)