The Birth of Esther Lucille Cricket
When you’ve had three babies, and they have been born progressively earlier and earlier, you get used to the idea and expect your fourth to follow suit. We had days of contractions and false starts nearly a month before her actual arrival, tricking us into a state of heightened expectation. But our fourth had other plans. As discouraging as that was at times, Matt and I found ourself on countless “last date nights”. We went on more dates in the last month and a half than we have been on in the past 6 years combined. And it was delightful! It was one of the best parts of the waiting. We also went on beautiful walks, and adventurous drives, the last of which started what we now know was early labor.
We drove around gorgeous country roads until we found ourselves up in the mountains. Matt found a very narrow, very bumpy, dirt logging road. We followed it up through breath taking, moss covered forest. My entire body was swaying with the weight of my belly as we drove higher and higher. Contractions began and we laughed as I “popped a squat”, 40 weeks pregnant, in the middle of this enchanted forest just so I could make it back down mountain. We returned home safe and sound with contractions coming every 20-30 min. And like that, they continued for the next 36 hours.
The following evening we decided to take the kids to Matt’s parents for a sleep over. We walked the 8 blocks home and I cried, exhausted and discouraged. I took a bath, and went to bed, hoping to get some sleep. As soon as I laid down contractions intensified and started coming every ten minutes. My grunting turned to “ooooommmmm”ing and around midnight, after they were coming every 5 min, we packed up Matt’s truck and headed in to the Birth Center.
Things went on about the same for the next few hours. Intense contractions every few minutes, my “ooooommmm”s getting louder and harder to keep low and focused. Around 3 am I began to feel overwhelmed by the back labor coming with each contraction. It felt like my lower back was cracking with each one. I was completely and totally exhausted. There was one point while laboring on the birth ball when I had relief. Bon Iver was playing, Matt was playing with my hair, and Rosalyn was gently rubbing my lower back. For a few minutes between each contraction, I felt like I was in heaven. It was everything I needed. Shortly after that I started getting really hot and knew I was finally getting closer to the end. I decided to lay down with Matt on the bed. And somehow, in some sort of magical state, all four of us slept. I don’t know how long it lasted, and I was woken a number of times by blindingly painful contractions and back labor, but I am almost certain this miraculous nap gave me what I needed for what would be an incredibly difficult next hour.
I began to feel the pushing growl grow with each wave. I couldn’t find a position that gave any relief to my back labor, but went with my tried and true hands and knees pushing position. My back felt nearly unbearable. My urge to push with each contraction grew stronger and stronger, but I knew it wasn’t strong enough. I told Susan, the lead midwife, my concern. She agreed and had me switch to laying on my side. Waves came, I pushed and growled at the top of my lungs, in deep animalistic desperation. I screamed. I couldn’t get around my back labor. It was overpowering and holding me down. But the waves kept coming, and I kept pushing. With the boys I had to be stopped from pushing them out in one push. I knew this was different. I couldn’t get the strength of the contraction to help me. After a number of exhausting, but fruitless pushes, Susan asked if we’d be ok if she broke my bulging bag of waters which seemed to be holding the baby up. I fully trusted her and we agreed. But with the next push they broke on their own, warm and clean. I was hoping with that out of baby’s way I’d find the pushing urge to be stronger. But it wasn’t. I had to somehow find the push inside of me and not rely on the contraction. Which is a very scary feeling to have. Over and over I pushed. I could feel her beginning to crown, a feeling that normally would make my contractions and drive take over. But between my back pain and exhaustion, I couldn’t do it. I’ve never felt so defeated in labor. I was so scared. I pushed without contractions, desperate to make any progress. She wasn’t coming. I began screaming. I’ve never lost control during a labor. But I found myself screaming- “I can’t get her out! This is all I have!” I pushed/screamed through another wave, finding Matt’s eyes, I felt like we would be lost in this endless moment forever. “Help me! I can’t do it!” The energy shifted in the room. The next wave, I couldn’t believe the noises that were coming from my body. I felt like I was ripping in half. It seemed like Susan heard me and I swear she reached in a pulled this baby out. She still claims I did it myself. But the time from crying, screaming “help” to the moment I felt that overwhelming, mind blowing relief was such a blur. The next thing I knew I was holding my gorgeously gigantic baby girl in the crook of my awkwardly placed arm, and it was over. I cried and cried. She gave a few whimpers, casually found my breast and tried to nurse. It was 6:10 am, just before sunrise.
“THANK YOU. You got her out. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it. I’ve never felt that way before.”
“You did do it, Bess. You did it.”
I still didn’t believe her. So, with my whole body shaking violently, I settled with “WE did it.” And that felt right.
My placenta was born with trailing membranes, for the fourth time. Weighing in at 2 lbs 8 oz, it was the biggest one they’ve ever seen. They loved it. We laughed. The baby nursed. I drank my freshly made smoothie and found myself saying over and over again, “I can’t believe it’s over. I can’t believe she’s here.”
After bit they brought us waffles, eggs, sausage, avocado, fruit, and coffee. We decided it was the best breakfast we’ve ever had. Around noon we were ready to go home, 12 hours after our arrival, and 6 hours after delivery. The midwives painted Cricket’s feet and put her prints on canvas and rock. We found out that she was entirely too big for newborn clothes and that nothing I brought for her to wear home would fit. So they gave us a 0-3 month shirt and we tied her pajama onesie around her waist like pants. At that point the other two midwives had come in to say hi, and we were all laughing at and admiring this beautiful, gigantic baby.
There’s been an element of embarrassment I’ve had to process this time. I felt like my other three labors were hard work, but I had done it, and done it well. And then for my fourth- I had lost control and failed. But I’m holding this sweet, sweet baby right now and feel absolutely nothing like a failure. That was single handedly the most difficult, most painful experience of my life. And she was 100% worth it. I’m very sore, and very, very happy.
What’s in a name....
Esther. This name was first introduced to our awareness in October after Matt’s Mom had visited her family in Illinois. She told me that Aunt Esther (her mom, Earlene’s, older sister) would be turning 101 the same month we were expecting our baby. Matt clicked with the name almost right away. It wasn’t until the middle of the night just before Christmas, in some “Beautiful Mind” type frenzy of connections, that the name began to feel incredibly significant to me. Expecting a baby so close to Christmas, naturally my connection to Advent was heightened. Esther is believed to mean “star”, and I was drawn to the image of the bright star in a dark sky, announcing the birth of a baby who would go on to teach about love, simplicity, equality, and selflessness. Additionally the story of Esther tells about a woman who used her position of privilege to speak out for the oppressed and marginalized.
May she be a bright light in the dark sky, and use her strong, compassion-filled, justice-seeking voice.
(As it turns out our Esther and her name sake were like ships passing in the night. Aunt Esther passed away just days before her 101st birthday, and a week before our Esther’s arrival.)
Lucille. This name is a nod to two incredibly important literary references. Lucy Maude Montgomery, author of “Anne of Green Gables”, and Lucy Pevensie, a prominent character in “The Chronicles of Narnia”. Both of whom have taught me incredible amounts about what faith, optimism, and a bit of magic can do in one’s life.
May she always see and seek the beauty in this world.
Cricket. The name that started it all. As I was giving away all of our baby things in the months following Simon’s birth, and anticipating a certain little snip-snip procedure, one day Matt came home from work with a name, and a sparkle in his eye. "(Anchor woman voice) This is Cricket Gerig reporting for channel nine news, good night.” And that was it. The tiny little dream of another baby was planted in our hearts. Over the next two years I would sway from “absolutely no other children” to “well maybe....” to “yeah, definitely” and back to “absolutely not”. But we would talk of this Cricket often and laugh about how cute and weird she’d likely be. Then in May we found out we were pregnant. And in August we found out we were indeed pregnant with Cricket. After a long summer of morning sickness and feelings of regret, I felt like- she was here, and everything is right.
Veda and Cricket now have a sweet sister name connection as well. Veda’s middle names are Earlene after Matt’s Grandma (sister to Esther), and Hazel (after my Grandma) who’s middle name was Lucille.
We drove around gorgeous country roads until we found ourselves up in the mountains. Matt found a very narrow, very bumpy, dirt logging road. We followed it up through breath taking, moss covered forest. My entire body was swaying with the weight of my belly as we drove higher and higher. Contractions began and we laughed as I “popped a squat”, 40 weeks pregnant, in the middle of this enchanted forest just so I could make it back down mountain. We returned home safe and sound with contractions coming every 20-30 min. And like that, they continued for the next 36 hours.
The following evening we decided to take the kids to Matt’s parents for a sleep over. We walked the 8 blocks home and I cried, exhausted and discouraged. I took a bath, and went to bed, hoping to get some sleep. As soon as I laid down contractions intensified and started coming every ten minutes. My grunting turned to “ooooommmmm”ing and around midnight, after they were coming every 5 min, we packed up Matt’s truck and headed in to the Birth Center.
Things went on about the same for the next few hours. Intense contractions every few minutes, my “ooooommmm”s getting louder and harder to keep low and focused. Around 3 am I began to feel overwhelmed by the back labor coming with each contraction. It felt like my lower back was cracking with each one. I was completely and totally exhausted. There was one point while laboring on the birth ball when I had relief. Bon Iver was playing, Matt was playing with my hair, and Rosalyn was gently rubbing my lower back. For a few minutes between each contraction, I felt like I was in heaven. It was everything I needed. Shortly after that I started getting really hot and knew I was finally getting closer to the end. I decided to lay down with Matt on the bed. And somehow, in some sort of magical state, all four of us slept. I don’t know how long it lasted, and I was woken a number of times by blindingly painful contractions and back labor, but I am almost certain this miraculous nap gave me what I needed for what would be an incredibly difficult next hour.
I began to feel the pushing growl grow with each wave. I couldn’t find a position that gave any relief to my back labor, but went with my tried and true hands and knees pushing position. My back felt nearly unbearable. My urge to push with each contraction grew stronger and stronger, but I knew it wasn’t strong enough. I told Susan, the lead midwife, my concern. She agreed and had me switch to laying on my side. Waves came, I pushed and growled at the top of my lungs, in deep animalistic desperation. I screamed. I couldn’t get around my back labor. It was overpowering and holding me down. But the waves kept coming, and I kept pushing. With the boys I had to be stopped from pushing them out in one push. I knew this was different. I couldn’t get the strength of the contraction to help me. After a number of exhausting, but fruitless pushes, Susan asked if we’d be ok if she broke my bulging bag of waters which seemed to be holding the baby up. I fully trusted her and we agreed. But with the next push they broke on their own, warm and clean. I was hoping with that out of baby’s way I’d find the pushing urge to be stronger. But it wasn’t. I had to somehow find the push inside of me and not rely on the contraction. Which is a very scary feeling to have. Over and over I pushed. I could feel her beginning to crown, a feeling that normally would make my contractions and drive take over. But between my back pain and exhaustion, I couldn’t do it. I’ve never felt so defeated in labor. I was so scared. I pushed without contractions, desperate to make any progress. She wasn’t coming. I began screaming. I’ve never lost control during a labor. But I found myself screaming- “I can’t get her out! This is all I have!” I pushed/screamed through another wave, finding Matt’s eyes, I felt like we would be lost in this endless moment forever. “Help me! I can’t do it!” The energy shifted in the room. The next wave, I couldn’t believe the noises that were coming from my body. I felt like I was ripping in half. It seemed like Susan heard me and I swear she reached in a pulled this baby out. She still claims I did it myself. But the time from crying, screaming “help” to the moment I felt that overwhelming, mind blowing relief was such a blur. The next thing I knew I was holding my gorgeously gigantic baby girl in the crook of my awkwardly placed arm, and it was over. I cried and cried. She gave a few whimpers, casually found my breast and tried to nurse. It was 6:10 am, just before sunrise.
“THANK YOU. You got her out. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it. I’ve never felt that way before.”
“You did do it, Bess. You did it.”
I still didn’t believe her. So, with my whole body shaking violently, I settled with “WE did it.” And that felt right.
My placenta was born with trailing membranes, for the fourth time. Weighing in at 2 lbs 8 oz, it was the biggest one they’ve ever seen. They loved it. We laughed. The baby nursed. I drank my freshly made smoothie and found myself saying over and over again, “I can’t believe it’s over. I can’t believe she’s here.”
After bit they brought us waffles, eggs, sausage, avocado, fruit, and coffee. We decided it was the best breakfast we’ve ever had. Around noon we were ready to go home, 12 hours after our arrival, and 6 hours after delivery. The midwives painted Cricket’s feet and put her prints on canvas and rock. We found out that she was entirely too big for newborn clothes and that nothing I brought for her to wear home would fit. So they gave us a 0-3 month shirt and we tied her pajama onesie around her waist like pants. At that point the other two midwives had come in to say hi, and we were all laughing at and admiring this beautiful, gigantic baby.
There’s been an element of embarrassment I’ve had to process this time. I felt like my other three labors were hard work, but I had done it, and done it well. And then for my fourth- I had lost control and failed. But I’m holding this sweet, sweet baby right now and feel absolutely nothing like a failure. That was single handedly the most difficult, most painful experience of my life. And she was 100% worth it. I’m very sore, and very, very happy.
What’s in a name....
Esther. This name was first introduced to our awareness in October after Matt’s Mom had visited her family in Illinois. She told me that Aunt Esther (her mom, Earlene’s, older sister) would be turning 101 the same month we were expecting our baby. Matt clicked with the name almost right away. It wasn’t until the middle of the night just before Christmas, in some “Beautiful Mind” type frenzy of connections, that the name began to feel incredibly significant to me. Expecting a baby so close to Christmas, naturally my connection to Advent was heightened. Esther is believed to mean “star”, and I was drawn to the image of the bright star in a dark sky, announcing the birth of a baby who would go on to teach about love, simplicity, equality, and selflessness. Additionally the story of Esther tells about a woman who used her position of privilege to speak out for the oppressed and marginalized.
May she be a bright light in the dark sky, and use her strong, compassion-filled, justice-seeking voice.
(As it turns out our Esther and her name sake were like ships passing in the night. Aunt Esther passed away just days before her 101st birthday, and a week before our Esther’s arrival.)
Lucille. This name is a nod to two incredibly important literary references. Lucy Maude Montgomery, author of “Anne of Green Gables”, and Lucy Pevensie, a prominent character in “The Chronicles of Narnia”. Both of whom have taught me incredible amounts about what faith, optimism, and a bit of magic can do in one’s life.
May she always see and seek the beauty in this world.
Cricket. The name that started it all. As I was giving away all of our baby things in the months following Simon’s birth, and anticipating a certain little snip-snip procedure, one day Matt came home from work with a name, and a sparkle in his eye. "(Anchor woman voice) This is Cricket Gerig reporting for channel nine news, good night.” And that was it. The tiny little dream of another baby was planted in our hearts. Over the next two years I would sway from “absolutely no other children” to “well maybe....” to “yeah, definitely” and back to “absolutely not”. But we would talk of this Cricket often and laugh about how cute and weird she’d likely be. Then in May we found out we were pregnant. And in August we found out we were indeed pregnant with Cricket. After a long summer of morning sickness and feelings of regret, I felt like- she was here, and everything is right.
Veda and Cricket now have a sweet sister name connection as well. Veda’s middle names are Earlene after Matt’s Grandma (sister to Esther), and Hazel (after my Grandma) who’s middle name was Lucille.
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