Daisy’s Birth Story

 It’s always been important to me to record important things. Writing things out helps me process them, it’s why I wrote so much when Dean was born, it’s why I tried so hard to write when my Dad was diagnosed. 

It’s why I don’t want to wait too long to write out Daisy’s birth story. There’s so much…just like there always is. The entire time I was pregnant with her I kept reminding myself each story is different, just as each baby is different. I knew too, this one would be incredibly different. 

Finding out a week after Daddy died that I was pregnant again made me angry. I was already grieving and now I had to keep myself from sinking into a dark place of hurt and loss. Pregnancy is already hard for me…add in occasionally needing to stop and sob because a smell, a memory, or a text reminding me Daddy wasn’t here…the next 40 weeks felt daunting. 

From the start I just kept telling Blair, I don’t want to do this again. Usually the thought of labor excited me, it meant the end of the constant nausea and throwing up! I couldn’t envision the end this time though…and I knew the work I needed to do to prepare my heart and mind for this baby’s arrival would take work. I was already tired…

July 22 I was 41 weeks pregnant according to ultrasound dates. My mom had been living with us since July 2, and I felt like we were taking advantage of her love and support. Why was she even here if I wasn’t even in labor? Every night she would say “text me if you need me” and I’d think “I’m never having this baby I’ll never need to text you.” I went to bed feeling defeated and huge and frustrated and exhausted. I would pray and beg God to let labor start. Every. Single. Night. 

We made an appointment for a post dates ultrasound, made plans to see our midwife and talk about labor stimulation, I avoided people and I cried a lot in the shower. I went to bed Wednesday night feeling “off”, I could not even tell you why or how, I just didn’t feel good and I wanted to be in bed. Even though I figured it was nothing I made sure my midwife knew and I crawled into bed. 

Around three AM I woke up and had a few contractions. Good ones, strong ones, but nothing consistent. I took a shower and prayed…and cried. Woke Blair up because I was breathing deeply through some of these and he decided not to go to work. We tried to time a few, but nothing was consistent. I decided to go back to bed, I was convinced these were not real. 

We got out of bed and came down the stairs in the morning, got the kids fed and talked to my Mom. Had a few more contractions, was in touch with my midwife. I couldn’t fathom an hour long car ride to this appointment with these contractions, so we cancelled it. 

I sat on our living room floor with a cheap henna kit and doodled on my belly. I did some on each of my kids too. We watched Balto and I laughed at the stupid goose. I kept praying the contractions would become more consistent and for the right time to call my people. 

I have this terrible fear of wasting peoples time. I couldn’t stand the thought of asking my midwife, photographer and best friend, and my other people to come to my house, set it all up, only for my labor to stop, again, and need to send everyone home while I was left to look at birth supplies we once again wouldn’t use yet…

My midwife kept texting me and reminding me I was not an inconvenience. She would come a 100 times if I needed or wanted her there. I think, at some point after 12:30, I decided maybe we should mobilize the troops. 

I have no concept of when people actually got here. Of what time Blair set up our birthing tub in the living room. I remember squatting and feeling these long hard strong contractions but still being convinced it wasn’t real and trying so hard to rest whenever I could. 

I remember hiding in the kitchen bouncing on my birth ball talking to Blair and asking everyone else to leave me alone. I remember hiding in the bathroom, praying my water would break ir even that I would lose my mucus plug. I remember my midwife checking me and telling me I *had* dilated more and that my body *was* working. 

I remember my friend Amber coming. Amber who six years ago on July 22 gave birth and then said goodbye to her son Tucker. She helped distract Ellie and Ana. Dean had gone for a play date with a friend (who is now a best friend and locked in for life!) who has three boys, it was a special thing just for him. Ellie played on the switch for a while before being picked up by Chelsea, she insisted she didn’t want to spend the night and made sure she would be coming back. Ana stayed home with us all day. Blair went to put her down for a nap while I continued to labor. 

We rocked and sat and watched my favorite episode of Archer. We laughed and talked and did belly lifts to encourage baby girl to get on my cervix. I listened to music and the Christian Hypnobirthing app. I did my best to breathe deeply. 

Then I felt just this well spring of emotion, right under the surface…and I knew I needed to listen to *that* song. At Daddy’s service we sang O Come To The Alter. For months after his death I couldn’t listen to it. One day though it came on the radio and the lyrics “bring your sorrows and trade them for joy/from the ashes a new life is born” resonated down to my soul. 

This was the work I’d been avoiding. The trading. The recognizing. The acknowledgement that though my Dad was gone, God had given us a beautiful new life to love. I rocked as I felt the contractions and cried. My mom gently touched my arm. I just let myself, in that moment, say goodbye to my Dad and hello to our baby. 

I don’t know what time, but I asked Natasha to come do a check for me. I made it up the stairs and laid on our bed. She checked, didn’t say anything, but told me to rest. I laid and felt more contractions. Then I heard people coming up the stairs saying “She can get mad at me, I don’t care, it’s not like she can catch me if I run anyways.” 

My best friend of ten plus years came into my room with her camera and a big smile. Our friend Amber, who somehow ended up being an intricate part of this story, also came into my room. Amanda said “Babe.  You’re 8 cm dilated. You have to get up and get moving. It’s turns to walk and get this baby out, let’s go.” 

I remember being simultaneously so annoyed, amused, and scared out of my mind. 

And then, I knew I needed to call my big brother. 

I sat on the side of my bed with heavy contractions, tears on my face, looking absolutely insane, and Facetimed my brother. He reminds me so much of my Daddy. His voice sounds like Daddy’s. I told him I didn’t want to do it. I told him I didn’t want to have a baby that doesn’t meet Daddy. 

And he told me I had to. That he was praying for me. That it was time. That he loved me, that Daddy loved me, that I could do it. 

I made my way downstairs where I rocked, walked, and prayed. I stood on our back deck while Ana played outside and I worshipped. I asked God to help me surrender to this. When I came back inside Natasha checked baby’s heartbeat. It was a little fast for her liking. I told her I wanted in the tub and she warned me if baby’s heartbeat didn’t come back down I’d have to get back out. But I knew it would. I knew she would like the water. 

Immediately when I got in the water I felt huge surges. The contractions were intense. I was very vocal. I kept moving around, changing positions. Ana kept circling the tub, calm and happy as could be. She was never scared of what was happening. 

Between contractions I did my best to just let go and be lose. I kept drinking water, holding onto the sides, I could feel her moving down. I kept telling her to move down, I kept trusting to say yes. Natasha’s birth assistant asked if she could pray for me. She spoke a beautiful prayer over me and baby, even while I vocalized through more contractions…I figured Jesus would understand. 

At one point between contractions when my body was resting, Natasha told me a beautiful story about her own Dad who she had recently lost. We laughed with her at his antics…joked about the number of kids families chose to have. It felt like his spirit was there with us too. 

It was such an interesting and strange experience, the amount of grief and joy surrounding this baby’s birth. Even as I write her story there are so many mentions of death. I grieved my father and my kids godfather, thinking of them both often while working to bring her here. My friend Amber grieving and missing her son Tucker. My midwife missing her own Father…all these men who weren’t here with us, waiting for phone calls of “Maddie had the baby” or waiting for a Mama to come home. They all were well loved and welcome into my space as I continued to work. 

Natasha and I talked about my cervical lip. She told me she could push it back, she had with Ana, but that it would be intense. I said yes, let’s try that. For a couple of contractions she pushed that lip back and I bore down hard with each contraction. It was incredibly intense. I was still waiting for my water to break or even to lose my plug. 

Natasha got my cervix back far enough she thought I could do it on my own. I remember leaning forward and feeling that pop and I said “my water finally broke!” At the same time I started losing more of mucus plug. 

I kept laboring. Resting between contractions. Bearing down with them. I was very tired and very ready to be done. Natasha did one more check and told me “Maddie the lip slipped back. This next contraction I do NOT want you to push.” THAT was HARD. A contraction came soon and goodness yes I wanted to bear down. Natasha kept me focused on her telling me to breathe and “blow me away Maddie, blow me away”…after it ended, Natasha said “I think I need to get you out of the water and see if I can push that lip back. We can stay here by the water and get back in if you want to, or we can go upstairs, it’s up to you.”

I knew, I knew if I got upstairs I wouldn’t be having this baby in the water, like I’d wanted. I knew I might not be able to catch her, like I’d wanted. But I also knew I was tired. And I knew I needed to be done. 

“Let’s go upstairs.” I said. 

Movement and chaos and everyone was in motion. I stood up and I just knew I had to get up to our room, quickly. I beelined it man. I don’t remember anything else except concentrating on getting ip the stairs. Natasha and Blair came with me, the team and everyone else followed, Ana was still here and watching everything. 

Once we got to our room things happened very quickly. Blair sat at the bottom of our bed and I grabbed onto him and told him not to move, he said “Don’t worry I’m not going anywhere. I’m stuck here.” I felt activity behind me and heard Natasha say “I can’t I have sterile gloves”…I’m not sure why my mind picked up on that one sentence from her. Maybe it’s because I knew it meant she thought I would have this baby soon. I got down on my knees, felt my midwife behind me, and cling to Blair as if I was falling off a cliff. 

I remember Natasha pushing my cervical lip down and hearing her to tell me to push down onto her fingers. And it just took all of me to bring my baby here. I bore down and tried still to breathe deeply, knowing she and I needed the oxygen. I could tell it was working. I knew I was so close. 

I always wished I was one of these women who peacefully breathed my baby into the world. Those videos always look so calming to me. It’s not how I birth my babies though. 

I roar them here. It’s a deep guttural sound from the bottom of my toes. It feels primal and otherworldly. 

I heard Natasha tell me to put one leg up, she knew was Ana’s birth weight had been and was worried I was going to be birthing a larger baby. She told me later she was worried about shoulder dysctocia and wanted to be preventative. But. Once Daisy was crowning, and I felt that tell tale ring of fire, I did something I’ve never done before.

I reached down and felt my baby. 

I could feel her hair and her head. I could feel myself stretch. I knew she was nearly here. I knew I needed to take my time and give my body a moment to accommodate her. 

The next thing I knew I was pushing her all the way out and I heard my midwife say, “Maddie reach down and catch your baby.” 

And I did. 

I caught that slippery just born little baby in my hands, rocked back onto my heels, went to sit back and heard “the cord snapped”….

I looked down and realized Daisy’s cord wasn’t attached to my placenta and it was bleeding freely. There was so much blood. I knew, somewhere in my mind, in my relief that I had finally gotten her out of me, that this wasn’t that great. It wasn’t an emergency yet, but it did need to be addressed and quickly. 

I saw Natasha clamp her cord and felt her reach in me to find the other part of it. I never once felt like I or Daisy were not safe. 

In those first moments after birthing your baby, there’s so much that happens that you hardly ever know about. Conversations, people, activity…it all happens around you while you are just inexplicably obsessed with the tiny human you are hopefully holding in your hands. 

I kept saying hello and rubbing her messy little head. She looked so much like Dean and I was so relieved she was finally here. I was finally done. 

My last pregnancy was finally over. 

As we moved to our bed where I was massaged, cleaned up, cared for, and cuddled, Blair and I just looked at this little girl. Our third summer baby. These Jaques girls and their little noses. The absolute miracle of what I had just accomplished. Laying on my bed surrounded by my Mother, by my two year old (who witnessed every part of this birth), my best friends, my midwife and her team…by my husband…it was just such an amazing experience once again. 

Four babies. My body had nurtured and carried to term four babies. And I have been able to birth all four naturally. To feel each one of them pass into this world from somewhere secrete and sacred. This…this holy work that I partnered with God to accomplish. 

After so much grief and heartache this year…after so much loss, here in my arms was life. 

Daisy Rebekah Lee. Daisy like sunshine and spring and coming out of dark places. Rebekah because the Bible tells us what a comfort she was to Isaac after his mother’s death. Leaning into this tiny beautiful girl being a comfort and a joy to so many. Lee for John. John Lee Cunningham. A goddaughter named after him. I hope she gets his joy for service, his unwavering love for the Lord. I will always be able to tell her about her Uncle John, and how much he LOVED her. 

Experiencing grief and love and birth this way was an all new sensation. Frequently those who had been grieved were brought up during Daisy’s birthday. We cried listening to Daddy’s song. I texted Katharine in tears missing John. My sweet friend Amber quietly talking to her son Tucker. My beautiful human midwife telling me the sweetest story about her own recently passed Dad. 

These stories are entwined now forever with my sweet Daisy. Her birth helped me close another chapter of my own grief. And brought me so much joy. 

Don’t misunderstand me either, I think I’ve cried once a day since she’s been born because my Dad isn’t here to meet her. Or because Uncle John isn’t here accidentally breaking something and then fixing it like when Ana was born. The memories and desire to see their faces and show them this precious girl are still there. They always will be. 

But I am in awe of the story God wrote for this sweet girl. In awe of what my body is capable of. 

And so. So in love. 

After her birth my Mother being the amazing woman she is, jumped right into clean up mode and laundry and made me the most glorious breakfast bagel of my life. Ellie came home and was just enamored with her new baby sister. Dean came home and sang to her. We ended the night with all four of my babies cuddled up on my big bed, while I nursed Daisy, and read a chapter of the BFG to the big kids. It was beautiful. Absolutely just beautiful. 

Daisy Rebekah Lee, July 22. 2021, 8 pounds 6 ounces, born at home at 7:29 pm.