The full story of Selah's birth is long, and I apologize in advance for the length of this blog post. But I thought I'd still share it, for those of you who are interested in the "long story." This is the story of my youngest sibling's birth -- the last one I would witness until my own children's.
It all started when Mom and I went in on Wednesday afternoon for a checkup. It was October 17th, Selah's due date, and Mom had felt absolutely nothing concerning contractions. Still we made the trip to Saint Joseph, knowing they'd want to see her.
The appointment basically never ended. The doctors had the baby's heart rate monitored for over an hour, never satisfied with the acrobatics Selah was performing inside Mom's womb and the high rate they caused. The minutes ticked by ... would we ever leave? I wanted to get home in time for dinner. That never happened. No, instead what I least wanted happened: they kept Mom in the hospital, insisting that she stay. For good. Until the birth.
At 4:30 Mom and I went on a walk around the neighborhood, in the hopes that the baby would calm down and attain a slower heartbeat. It was a lovely time of day, and the sun was low in the sky, giving a golden hue to everything it touched. I enjoyed the chance to talk one-on-one with Mom, even if we didn't say much. I had missed that mother-daughter time since moving to Tantur. Here everything is done as a group, and when it's not, it's usually as a family. Plus I knew that once the baby came, I'd get even less time alone with Mom. So I savored those last few hours.
We found a small shop, the front gate being literally a hole-in-the-wall and overshadowed with ivy growth, and the two of us crept inside, curious to see what it sold. "Sunbula: House of Palestinian Crafts" it said in bold letters. At the doorway, our breaths were stolen at the sight of a pile of kittens, huddled on the worn out mat. There were three of them dozing there, and we were unsure whether or not we should disturb them. But then a lady called out in a friendly manner from inside to "Come on in!" and we tentatively stepped over the mass of fur and paws. Inside we found two tiny rooms: the first held the shopkeeper and a single computer (probably used for checkouts), and the second contained the handmade goods. Oh glory be: what a collection of beauty was hidden away in there! Everything from ornaments to purses to little-girl dresses, each one bearing its individual cross-stitched designs. It was stunning to walk in there, really, and we didn't want to leave! But the best part? Purchasing products from this place would be promoting the Palestinians. And that's exactly what we wished to do. Money-less, we promised the lady at the front desk that we would be back.
After our little outing, we returned to the hospital where they hooked Mom up again ... and then moved her to a delivery room. At that point I knew we weren't going back home any time soon. Still Mom wasn't in labor. To get things started, the doctors did what's called "sweeping the membranes." I won't go into details over what it is or how it's done, but I will say labor can start within hours of it being done. But it can also take days -- or even a week -- depending on how effective it is. There is quite a range for reaction time, truthfully. For her, though, sweeping the membranes wasn't working as quickly as they were hoping.
Around 10 PM, Dad arrived with the boys, after being driven by Allison Wattenbarger (thank you, Allison!) They rushed in, all set and ready for this birth ... only to discover that not much was happening, and the contractions Mom was having were few and far between. The boys got bored pretty quickly, and were grateful for the deck of cards they'd brought.
We were still up at 1 AM -- the membrane sweepings were happening every few hours or so, and Mom enjoyed the company. By 1:30 AM I was seriously tired, and gratefully accepted the sleeping mat one of the midwives offered me. The ground was hard, but thankfully not cold, thanks to the thin pad I was on. The delivery room had a single chair along with the birthing bed, so despite the fact that the room was quite large and roomy, we couldn't all find a place to lie down or even sit. The ground would have to do.
It was around 5:00 AM that they broke Mom's water. I barely awoke for that. And the next thing I remembered was Mom calling me out of my sleep in a whisper, "Naomi. It's happening soon." I was up in a flash. No one else was awake, and it felt like it was the middle of the night. When I looked down at my watch, however, I was startled to find it was already 7:15 in the morning. A lack of windows will do that to you: make it feel like eternal night. I woke up Dad, repeating to him what Mom had told me. And then began hard labor.
It progressed so quickly, I hardly had time to react: Mom was in labor! This baby would be born soon! It wasn't as easy as Miriam's birth. No, it took a lot out of me just to watch my poor mama moan and groan and cry out in sheer pain as she bent over the bed. I can never hope to imagine how hard it must have been for her (well, maybe when I give birth -- but that won't be for a while!) Labor lasted at most an hour, though, and at 8:30 AM little Selah appeared. I saw her head come out first, and at that instant my tears of sorrow for my mom changed to tears of joy -- she was here! Mom had done it again.
There was still more work to do, effort to be exerted. Mom still had to deliver the placenta, and then writhe in pain as the midwife stitched up some tears. But from what I could see, the placenta's delivery wasn't nearly as painful or long as the baby's was. Plus she could do so with a sweet little nugget in her arms as encouragement! Same goes with the stitches.
Selah received her name immediately. Our parents had picked out the names months ago, for a boy and girl. And once they'd given us the small hint of the first and middle initials, I guessed the girl was Selah. We'd discovered the name as a family back in June, and immediately fallen in love with it (or at least I had!). So when the midwife announced after checking that "It's a girl!" we knew it was Selah, our youngest baby daughter. Selah Marie Gertz! She was perfect.
At 9 lbs 11 oz, Selah was a chunky little baby, full of health and sweetness. With a head of dark, curly hair, she mimicked my own birth, sixteen years ago. The oldest and youngest daughters both came out with a lot of hair! I clicked with her upon sight -- I would love this little girl just as I had loved Miriam. We would be a trio now, my sisters and I! And I would be the leader 😊 What the years will hold for us remains uncertain, though, as I'm quite a bit older than they are. Whether or not I will get to spend much time with them is fuzzy, but I hope to God they end up living close to me once I'm gone, in college or in my own house! I want to remain close to my sisters, despite the age gap.
It all started when Mom and I went in on Wednesday afternoon for a checkup. It was October 17th, Selah's due date, and Mom had felt absolutely nothing concerning contractions. Still we made the trip to Saint Joseph, knowing they'd want to see her.
The appointment basically never ended. The doctors had the baby's heart rate monitored for over an hour, never satisfied with the acrobatics Selah was performing inside Mom's womb and the high rate they caused. The minutes ticked by ... would we ever leave? I wanted to get home in time for dinner. That never happened. No, instead what I least wanted happened: they kept Mom in the hospital, insisting that she stay. For good. Until the birth.
At 4:30 Mom and I went on a walk around the neighborhood, in the hopes that the baby would calm down and attain a slower heartbeat. It was a lovely time of day, and the sun was low in the sky, giving a golden hue to everything it touched. I enjoyed the chance to talk one-on-one with Mom, even if we didn't say much. I had missed that mother-daughter time since moving to Tantur. Here everything is done as a group, and when it's not, it's usually as a family. Plus I knew that once the baby came, I'd get even less time alone with Mom. So I savored those last few hours.
We found a small shop, the front gate being literally a hole-in-the-wall and overshadowed with ivy growth, and the two of us crept inside, curious to see what it sold. "Sunbula: House of Palestinian Crafts" it said in bold letters. At the doorway, our breaths were stolen at the sight of a pile of kittens, huddled on the worn out mat. There were three of them dozing there, and we were unsure whether or not we should disturb them. But then a lady called out in a friendly manner from inside to "Come on in!" and we tentatively stepped over the mass of fur and paws. Inside we found two tiny rooms: the first held the shopkeeper and a single computer (probably used for checkouts), and the second contained the handmade goods. Oh glory be: what a collection of beauty was hidden away in there! Everything from ornaments to purses to little-girl dresses, each one bearing its individual cross-stitched designs. It was stunning to walk in there, really, and we didn't want to leave! But the best part? Purchasing products from this place would be promoting the Palestinians. And that's exactly what we wished to do. Money-less, we promised the lady at the front desk that we would be back.
After our little outing, we returned to the hospital where they hooked Mom up again ... and then moved her to a delivery room. At that point I knew we weren't going back home any time soon. Still Mom wasn't in labor. To get things started, the doctors did what's called "sweeping the membranes." I won't go into details over what it is or how it's done, but I will say labor can start within hours of it being done. But it can also take days -- or even a week -- depending on how effective it is. There is quite a range for reaction time, truthfully. For her, though, sweeping the membranes wasn't working as quickly as they were hoping.
Around 10 PM, Dad arrived with the boys, after being driven by Allison Wattenbarger (thank you, Allison!) They rushed in, all set and ready for this birth ... only to discover that not much was happening, and the contractions Mom was having were few and far between. The boys got bored pretty quickly, and were grateful for the deck of cards they'd brought.
We were still up at 1 AM -- the membrane sweepings were happening every few hours or so, and Mom enjoyed the company. By 1:30 AM I was seriously tired, and gratefully accepted the sleeping mat one of the midwives offered me. The ground was hard, but thankfully not cold, thanks to the thin pad I was on. The delivery room had a single chair along with the birthing bed, so despite the fact that the room was quite large and roomy, we couldn't all find a place to lie down or even sit. The ground would have to do.
It was around 5:00 AM that they broke Mom's water. I barely awoke for that. And the next thing I remembered was Mom calling me out of my sleep in a whisper, "Naomi. It's happening soon." I was up in a flash. No one else was awake, and it felt like it was the middle of the night. When I looked down at my watch, however, I was startled to find it was already 7:15 in the morning. A lack of windows will do that to you: make it feel like eternal night. I woke up Dad, repeating to him what Mom had told me. And then began hard labor.
It progressed so quickly, I hardly had time to react: Mom was in labor! This baby would be born soon! It wasn't as easy as Miriam's birth. No, it took a lot out of me just to watch my poor mama moan and groan and cry out in sheer pain as she bent over the bed. I can never hope to imagine how hard it must have been for her (well, maybe when I give birth -- but that won't be for a while!) Labor lasted at most an hour, though, and at 8:30 AM little Selah appeared. I saw her head come out first, and at that instant my tears of sorrow for my mom changed to tears of joy -- she was here! Mom had done it again.
There was still more work to do, effort to be exerted. Mom still had to deliver the placenta, and then writhe in pain as the midwife stitched up some tears. But from what I could see, the placenta's delivery wasn't nearly as painful or long as the baby's was. Plus she could do so with a sweet little nugget in her arms as encouragement! Same goes with the stitches.
Selah received her name immediately. Our parents had picked out the names months ago, for a boy and girl. And once they'd given us the small hint of the first and middle initials, I guessed the girl was Selah. We'd discovered the name as a family back in June, and immediately fallen in love with it (or at least I had!). So when the midwife announced after checking that "It's a girl!" we knew it was Selah, our youngest baby daughter. Selah Marie Gertz! She was perfect.
At 9 lbs 11 oz, Selah was a chunky little baby, full of health and sweetness. With a head of dark, curly hair, she mimicked my own birth, sixteen years ago. The oldest and youngest daughters both came out with a lot of hair! I clicked with her upon sight -- I would love this little girl just as I had loved Miriam. We would be a trio now, my sisters and I! And I would be the leader 😊 What the years will hold for us remains uncertain, though, as I'm quite a bit older than they are. Whether or not I will get to spend much time with them is fuzzy, but I hope to God they end up living close to me once I'm gone, in college or in my own house! I want to remain close to my sisters, despite the age gap.
Thank you, little Selah Marie, for blessing me with your birth. I can't wait to get to know you these next couple years. Will you be active? Have a sense of humor? Appreciate music? I don't know -- it all remains a mystery currently. All I know is that I love you, from your little toes to that soft mop of dark curls on your head. You're here and I'm glad.
1 comment:
Thank you for sharing, Naomi! This was so lovely to read!
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