Henry's Arrival

“What’s my story again, mama?” Tell me again.

Of course, I was overjoyed when my biggest little man wanted to know his birth story on the eve of his birthday. Tomorrow, at 8:34 in the morning, he will turn 6 years old.

I started his story with telling him about early labor and how I watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding and tried to write baby shower thank you notes to keep my mind off of the contractions. I told him about Uncle Garrett coming over and wanting to wait for Jeremiah to get home to drink a beer together while I had contractions in the kitchen. I told him about walking up and down the sidewalk with Mrs. Beth until the pain increased. I went on and told him about calling our doula, heading to the hospital, laboring in the shower, and Mrs. Leslie, mama’s midwife, catching him and handing him to me for the first time. His first breath, his first cry, his first introduction to the world happened 6 years ago. His story is engraved in my heart and I hope over the years, it will be engraved in his as well.

His story is so much of my story too. It really is our story. When I look at him now I see a boy with broad shoulders posing as Captain American, with focused eyes building a mobile Lego plane and with increased confidence jumping off the high dive. I don’t see the baby in the pictures that I held so timidly when he was born. He’s changed and so have I. He reminds me of how far we have really come.

It was because of my natural birth with Henry that I entered birth work and trained as a doula. I’ve come to use words like placenta and uterus as common language. My husband even chimes in when he hears of a mama not preparing herself for birth offering wisdom and of course, slipping her my business card. Henry’s birth birthed my passion for birth, for mamas, and for care, especially in the postpartum time.

I look at Henry and see my son but he reminds me of whom I’ve become because of him. He showed me what it means to care for my body during pregnancy, to birth a head-strong son, and to fight for joy in the days following. He has since showed me how to give space to an introvert, how to wait for permission into his world as he creates imaginary worlds out of plastic bricks, and how to never miss a chance to give him love and affection. He is smart, observant, and craves learning.

With each contraction, I remember saying to myself that it was going to be worth it. Henry was certainly worth it. It is because of him that I first became a mother, gained confidence as mother, and realized the importance of supporting other mothers. Thank you, Henry. I’m so glad you’ve come.

On The Day You Were Born by Debra Frasier

'Welcome to the spinning world,' the people sang,

as they washed your new, tiny hands.... 

And as they held you close they whispered into your open, curving ear, 

“We are so glad you've come!'"