Maverick Lewis Mary

I finally feel able to write out the words to Maverick’s birth.

I’m sure this is true of most women: I have struggled to describe this experience because there were so MANY feelings, sometimes all at once. And then once the birth is over, the next season of life begins so it seems there’s no time to linger. But there is, subtly, in the wee hours of the morning and in the blurry eyes of my then-newborn. I lingered as thoroughly as possible.

I’ve debated for some time if I could share this story at all, because of how people might perceive me, or because it’s kind of embarrassing to share such an intimate thing. So I warn you – read on only if you aren’t squeamish and can handle looking me in the eye when I next see you. Promise?! K 😂

A year ago on May 4th, we were heading home to the ranch from visiting family in MN and we discovered we were pregnant. Well, we knew we were pregnant and the pee test confirmed it. I track my fertility, and was keeping vigilance on my charts due to our previous losses. So 14 days after I confirmed ovulation via charting my temperature, I took a test to confirm what my body was telling me. We were excited, ecstatic actually. Two years of praying for a baby, three confirmed pregnancies, two heartbreaking losses, and now… Another chance. I called my former midwife and told her the news. We knew that low progesterone (a necessary hormone the body produces to help the baby grow) was a major factor in our loss and infertility, so I asked her to prescribe supplemental progesterone that I would then inject throughout the pregnancy.

A few days later, I met with a local midwife near the ranch. She was well-trained, calm, and loved the Lord. My heart felt reassured having her on our side. The first prenatal visit, Rex came with. She took my vitals, recorded my weight, asked for my cycle history, and drew my blood for labs. At the end, she asked if we’d like to see baby on an ultrasound. At this point I was not quite 6 weeks along, so I was surprised that was an option. She used a simple handheld ultrasound device, but after searching for several minutes she told us she couldn’t determine if there was a baby or not. She suggested, if we wanted peace of mind, to go into town to the pregnancy resource center and let the nurse there know she’d sent us.

So we did. It was a little awkward, one because we were terrified of the worst on the inside, and two because as a pregnancy resource center they had to ask the same questions they might ask if one was in a crisis pregnancy situation. “Was this baby planned? Is this the father? Are you in a safe relationship?” Etc. It felt weird as a married woman 😆

The sweet nurse couldn’t find a baby either, until she switched from using a doppler to a transvaginal wand. Baby was tiny, microscopic. 5 weeks, 6 days, she said. I mentally corrected it to 5 weeks and 4 days, because I knew when I’d ovulated, but close enough. We were so relieved. Maybe this was really happening after all.

I continued to see my midwife every 4 weeks for prenatals, and often I’d see her every 2 weeks to have my blood drawn so we could see how my progesterone levels were keeping up. Meanwhile, my dear husband was doing his best not to cry when he injected me with those thick shots in the butt twice a week. Oh, it was worth it.

Around 17 or 18 weeks, I started to feel baby’s kicks. All day long, sometimes, and definitely at bedtime. They were too tiny for Rex to feel for several more weeks, so it was like our little secret; mine and my baby’s. I felt like I carried a treasure beyond all value. My body was changing, and my heart was being tested in faith, and all the while a new being was growing inside.

When we got to 20 weeks, some things clicked into place. For one, my lab results showed that my progesterone was higher than average and therefore midwives said it was time to start lowering the dose. This was so incredibly scary for me at first, because I worried it might send me into labor as with Jackson. I needed a different ending to this story. And God reminded me of just that: that THIS was a different story. Also, normally we would have had a 20 week ultrasound and were debating whether we would find out the gender at this point. But I spent some time researching the pros and cons of having a 20 week ultrasound and decided it just wasn’t worth it to me. It would be an extended-length ultrasound to make sure that every was developing properly- organs all there, spine lined up, head normal size, 4 chambers of the heart, lungs, etc. To us, though, if something was developing incorrectly, it wouldn’t change anything. We would still carry our baby to term, holding every moment of life as precious, and deal with any complications as they arose. I could see no benefit that would outweigh the risks, which as I researched, I learned. Aside from the worry that inevitably comes with a diagnosis, I found that ultrasounds can actually be incredibly dangerous. I’m not great at paraphrasing very complicated science, but basically, an ultrasound in progress can cause very concentrated heat at the object it’s making a picture of, in this case a baby’s developing body, which can cause cellular damage- especially when used for prolonged periods. I had never really looked into the science of ultrasound before, I just assumed it was safe, and I even had a home Doppler I’d used often from early on before I could feel baby moving. But now I will be wary of using ultrasound except perhaps in an emergency in a future pregnancy. (This article sums it up for me: https://kellybroganmd.com/utrasound-risks-perils-of-peeking-into-the-womb/).

I want to note, that though I chose not to have any more ultrasounds and probably never will again, I understand why someone else might or has in the past- we make decisions based on the knowledge we have at the time. No shame.

Finding out that something like routine ultrasound was not, in fact, evidence based, led me to question some other things as well. I also was worried about having to transfer from my midwife’s care to the hospitals care at the last minute, if my baby was in a breech position or went overdue. Were these routine things evidence based?

I began reading book after book on birth. All things pregnancy and birth. Preventing preeclampsia with diet. Proper posture to help baby position head down. Different types of breech positions, and how to birth a breech baby (hands OFF). The evolution of birthing practices as we know them today. What an undisturbed birth might look like. The hormones associated with natural birth and the environment they needed to be produced.

Through it all, I began to form a new understanding of birth. At the root of this was my now-solid belief that I was made, created, designed, to birth my babies. “God saw what He had made, and it was good.” My body wasn’t broken or in need of saving from the experience of birth- I was made to do this. I felt a new confidence as I read story after story of other mothers bringing their children into the world, and I began to exchange nervousness for excitement that soon I would join them.

When we were about 26 or 28 weeks, I told Rex that I needed his full attention. I wrote him a several-page long letter explaining my desires for our birth, asking for his support and his confidence; he gave it lovingly.

I wanted to birth on our own. No fuss. No midwife. No gloves, no Doppler, no timing of contractions. No awkwardness, no cramped-too-many-people-in-our-room-ness. Just me, baby, and daddy.

I read a lot of articles about why giving birth unassisted is stupid, dangerous, reckless. I wanted to know what people thought and wanted to be prepared. But I disagreed with those opinions, and strengthened my own knowledge instead.

In choosing to birth without a medical professional in attendance, I take responsibility for my baby’s life into the hands of my husband and myself. We chose this from the perspective of two people who love, love, LOVE our babies, and would give just about anything to have them all here with us. We chose unassisted birth because for us, it was the safest option. We chose it from a wealth of knowledge and education. We chose it because it was best for our family.

But wait? What about the risks, possible complications and in case of emergency?

We prepared! In an emergency, its an emergency. We would never not seek help if it were needed. We had emergency numbers saved and could have jumped in the truck if the situation called for it.

We sterilized a knife to cut the cord, and I bought a crocheted cord-tie from a seller on Etsy. I had a package of chux pads (puppy pads) ready to be used up. Rex put a waterproof cover on our mattress a few weeks before we were due. I had birth affirmations all over the bathroom. I purchased a jar of cord-care powder, ordered in my cloth diapers, had a couple outfits in the drawer. I bought a bunch of herbs and tinctures – herbs to soak in after birth to help my body heal, cayenne pepper capsules and shepherds purse to slow down bleeding if I was worried about hemorrhaging, Angelica root if my placenta was retained, seaweed and honey to hold my skin in place to heal naturally if I had any tearing. I printed out placenta smoothie recipes and set out a bowl. I cleaned the bathtub and everywhere else I could think of. Rex got me a speaker to listen to soothing music if I wanted.

Two weeks before Christmas, I was feeling VERY pregnant. I couldn’t wait to meet this baby. I rubbed my big belly and told baby, “this week we’re visiting family and next week is Christmas, but anytime after that you can come.”

Christmas Eve, Rex and I spent the day lounging and mid-afternoon we decided we’d go for a hike. In hindsight, we could have picked a spot closer than the 2 hours it took to get there, but hey. 🤣 During the drive, I was having light contractions. They never came real close together, but were noticable enough that we decided to head home. As soon as we did, they ended.

On Christmas day, we were both on duty with the boys. We had a late breakfast and opened gifts with the guys, and went to Christmas Mass. At Mass, Father saw my not-so-subtle big belly and asked, “When’s the due date, again?” Instead of telling him the end of January like I’d been telling everyone else hoping they wouldn’t ask again till then, I said, “Any day now!” It surprised us both, because he thought January something (which was right) and I realized I meant it. Any day this baby would be here.

When we got back to the ranch, we waited for the feast to be brought over. The family we work for had graciously offered to cook a Christmas feast, and I was pregnant-starving. But an hour went by, then two, almost three, and there it was! Incredible food. I stuffed myself silly. I could feel how pronounced my waddle was. When we finished dinner, the boys began cleaning up and I waddled upstairs to start the Home Alone movie marathon they were going to watch. As I sat down on the couch to mess with the projector, my waters began leaking. I knew right away it was my waters, but I smelled it anyway. It’s happening!! Don’t get too excited… It will probably be awhile. Now I had to figure out how to get downstairs without anyone seeing my soaking wet skirt. I decided I would turn it around and bunch it up in my hands. I made it downstairs without anyone noticing me, and made a grab for Rex as I walked by. He followed me into our bedroom, where I let my skirt fall and said plainly, “My waters broke.” He grinned. I told him I was going to change and come back out to watch the movie. He squeezed me, excited, and went to fill up my water.

I went to the bathroom to change, and the rest of my waters broke with an audible pop. Then labor really began.

When he came back a few minutes later, I had stripped all my clothing off and was sitting on my exercise ball, rolling my hips in circles. He handed me a drink of water, put on a gentle worship playlist and started turning off all the lights, leaving softer candles in their places. He left again to let the other staff know that I needed him and he couldn’t finish his shift.

I thought I’d let my mama know, so I called but dad answered. Mom was at work, so I told him labor was starting and I wanted him to pray. He started asking me questions, how was I feeling, when was I calling the midwife, etc. I told him I wasn’t calling her, it was just us. I could hear the time of his voice rise and realized I never told him we had changed our plans. Mom knew, but dad gets nervous sometimes. It’s a dad thing. I stopped listening as soon as I heard his tone change, and handed Rex the phone (who’d just come back). Rex basically said hi, dad, gotta go, bye. I hoped my dad wouldn’t worry too much.

It was dark, warm, with my favorite worship songs playing, reminding me to suffer with love. I bounced and rolled on the ball in front of the couch, leaning onto Rex for support. I kept hearing the words in my mind, “Soft jaw, open hands.” It was SO hard to do. All I wanted was to grip, grab, tighten up and whimper but I had barely begun and I couldn’t give up already. I suddenly felt sick, and Rex barely got the trash can in front of me before I threw up that delicious Christmas feast.

During labor, time passed in a weird way. I would be so uncomfortable, desperate for a moment’s relief just to breathe, only to realize that several minutes had gone by without me noticing anything and then it would start back up again.

I moved around a lot, in our little bedroom. At a certain point, the ball was not comfortable at ALL anymore, so I moved onto the couch where I rocked back and forth on my knees. I absolutely could not be still; my body had to be rocking or swaying my hips constantly. I could tell the baby was moving down, tiny bit at a time, because as I moved back and forth I was losing more waters. Rex slid a chux pad underneath me and I asked him to massage my hips as hard as he could. Praise God, it was such a relief. I was embarrassed when I had a bowel movement on the pad, but Rex was glad for his hands to have a break from massaging me furiously.

I asked him to tell me about a place I loved. He described for me a beautiful rushing river, and suddenly I needed to get in the bathtub. The water felt nice but the regular sized tub could not fit my big belly and I; we needed to move, not lie there. I turned on the shower and spent the next 40 minutes swaying and rubbing and tensing and soothing under the hot water. When Rex came to check on me, I let out a sorry whimper and told him, “I can’t keep going. I can’t do this. It’s too hard.” He touched my face and smiled softly and told me, “I know it’s hard. But you have to keep going.”

I climbed out of the shower and went back to the couch. I was shivering, though I’d dried off, because of the tremendous pains racking my womb. Rex made sure I had water and a garbage can next to the couch, and I asked him to let me be alone for now. I would call him when I needed him. He shut off the music and laid down to rest. I envied him, oh, how I wanted just to lay down.

I shut my eyes tightly as I rocked my body, forward and back, and thought about his absence for a bit. If I became dizzy or thirsty, would I be okay? Yes. He was only a few feet away. I needed some space to not worry about him and how tired he probably is and how much longer this might be, and just work with my body.

Focus. Come down, baby, come down. Soft jaw, open hands. Breathe. I felt inside and touched baby’s head, two knuckles deep. Don’t worry about how much farther. Just keep going.

I stayed there for a long time, feeling baby’s descent with my fingers every so often. Finally I decided I needed a better position, so I went and sat and rocked on the toilet. The wall in front of the toilet was plastered with various birth affirmations, and I read them as I rocked.

Your body is safe, your baby is safe.

Your partner is supportive and encouraging.

Your baby is in the perfect position for birth.

I am able, I am strong.

My job is to breathe, and let my body do it’s work.

My mind swirled. I felt as if in a trance. I blew air through my lips (raspberries) over and over and over, only stopping to drink water or put chapstick on so I could continue. Relax, and let my body work.

All at once, I felt a sensation of pushing with an involuntary grunt from deep in my throat. A short, sharp scream came bursting out of my lips without my being able to control it. “Rex!” I called out. “Rex!” Another uncontrollable urge to push and another guttural short scream ripped out of my throat.

He jumped up and came into the bathroom looking startled just as I stood from the toilet. Another urge to push, but the feeling that followed terrified me that I would be ripped in two. I began holding back instead of allowing baby’s head to move as my body was bringing it, because all at once I was afraid that the ripping feeling must be a mistake; I must have dilated incorrectly and baby’s head was pressing against cervix that was in the way. I told Rex this, and asked him to look, but I couldn’t move from my half-squat to let him. Another shriek and another urge, which I held back. I waddled to the couch and lay on my back, and asked Rex to call the midwife we had seen for the first half of our pregnancy. It was after midnight so she was quite surprised, and Rex explained my worry to her. She said not to worry, the baby’s head could never rip through the cervix, it just wasn’t possible. He thanked her and hung up. Then he took another peak at me and asked, “Your cervix wouldn’t be hairy, right?”

“No!” I almost shouted. I was so relieved. “That’s the baby’s head! Are you sure?! Let’s give this another try!”

“I’m pretty sure…” He helped me to my feet and turned to grab a pad to lay on the floor beneath me, but no sooner had I got to my feet than I dropped into a squat as a final surge came through me and my baby came flying headfirst onto the soft floor with a soft cry and eyes wide open. Rex turned back to me as I got on my knees and picked up baby.

“Babe, it’s a boy!” He handed me a blanket to dry him with.

He had some vernix on his skin that I started to rub in all over as we waited for him to catch his breath. “Hi baby! Hi! We love you, we love you so much.”

He didn’t breathe right away, but we weren’t worried. His cord was still pulsing full of oxygen-filled blood. I began sucking out his mouth and nose with my mouth, helping to clear his airways from amniotic fluid. He started to cough a little, and I rubbed his arms and back vigorously to help him pink up. Within a few minutes (it felt longer than it was) he was pink all over and breathing well. Probably five minutes later he actually opened up in a loud cry, which Rex and I heard and looked at each other just melting.

I brought him to my chest right away and let him be against my skin. Gosh, wasn’t he just perfect. The placenta came easily when I stood up, and we crawled into bed to rest.

I was in awe. What a perfect, beautiful baby. There was no flaw in him. He had hair! It blew my mind. His tiny chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm. We rested, baby and I, while Rex cleaned up towels and pads and soaked up some blood in the carpet I missed. I was desperate to fall asleep, but we knew that first hour was so important to have skin to skin and keep an eye on how we were both feeling.

After the cord had turned white, Rex tied the cord-tie a few inches from baby’s belly button and cut the cord. He put the placenta in the fridge for later. I wanted to clean up, so I put the baby in his lap on the couch and jumped in the shower to rinse off. I felt weak, but not alarmingly so. I wasn’t bleeding terribly heavy, but I took some cayenne pepper anyway. I sat down next to Rex and the baby, all dry and wrapped up, and breathed a deep sigh.

“Wow. I’m so relieved to be done.”

Rex was so proud. “We did it babe! We have a baby!” We were half-delirious with exhaustion but grinning like fools anyway. I was worried that my dad would be worried, so we called to let them know we were doing well. They were over the moon 😍 They asked what time he was born.

“Oh yeah! What time was he born, babe?”

“12:50.”

I can’t believe you’re here, baby.

Right on time, though nobody quite expected him on Christmas.

“On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…”

Maverick Lewis Mary Peterson

12/26/18 ~ 12:50 am

7 lbs, 3 oz ~ 18 inches