There were probably many reasons why my final birthing experience was not nearly as positive as my fourth had been. I had hardly prepared, mentally or physically, and I was not as in shape or as well rested either. I had the stress of a recent overseas move and the newness of my location, as well as the stress of a recent change in delivery location and not having ever spent time with the midwives. There were language barriers and cultural uncertainties. And I also must have known that adding a baby to a family that already included both homeschooled high schoolers and a two-year-old was going to be challenging in ways I could only guess at.
Thankfully there were also significant positive aspects to my fifth labor and delivery. One amazing unexpected blessing was that in Jerusalem, I was allowed (and encouraged!) to EAT while laboring. I was brought dinner on a tray the night of October 17, given packets of halva by my midwife to eat while in active labor, and brought breakfast on a tray the morning of October 18.
In addition, my daughter Naomi (16 at the time) had already attended my fourth birth (at age 14) so was more prepared to help this time around. She held a fan to cool me off, encouraged me verbally, and was ready to do anything the midwife needed. The midwife helped me by recommending a position to take during the worst contractions and by offering me gas to breathe. She also, unbeknownst to me, defended me when a doctor came in and apparently complained that I was laboring standing up. She said I was doing fine and that I knew what I was doing.
By 8 AM on October 18, I'd given birth to my fifth baby (standing up!) and learned that we had a sweet baby girl: Selah Marie. With my labor pains and excruciating delivery finished, I thought the hard part was over.
Instead it was just beginning.
My family, including Steve, had to return home. I was recovering in a double room and the hospital had strict visiting hours. Because Steve's back was so bad, he didn't return that day, Thursday October 18. My roommate's side of the room was filled to bursting with family and friends during visiting hours. There was talking and laughing and eating food. I couldn't understand any of their words because everyone spoke in Arabic. But I could understand that she had visitors and I didn't. She had people happy about her new baby and I didn't. She had support and I didn't.
Miriam still hadn't met little Selah so I was extra thankful that my nextdoor neighbor at Tantur was willing to briefly bring Naomi and Miriam by in her car that afternoon. It was too short a visit but I loved seeing little 2-year-old Miriam beam with joy at the sight of her new baby sister. The photo I have of her holding Selah for the first time is an image I'll always treasure. And after that most fleeting of "hello"s, I was back to being by myself in a foreign place.
I thought I had come prepared for this. I knew I would be by myself at the hospital for a few days. I had brought a laptop, assuming I could use internet, and I had a cellphone that I thought had plenty of money. But I never could get online, and my phone's minutes were gone after only a brief conversation with Steve. We simply weren't prepared enough.
So during some of what should have been the happiest hours of my life, I was cut off from the world. And thus, I was also cut off during what ended up some of my loneliest hours. I couldn't chat with my family in America, sharing all the details of my fifth birth. I couldn't chat with my kids, just across town, to find out how things were going at home. In desperation, I eventually made my way to the nurses' desk to ask for a piece of paper and pen or pencil. They seemed very confused; I just wanted to be able to at least *write* what I was feeling since I couldn't talk with anyone. 
I loved snuggling with my precious newborn. I was acutely aware that everything was my "last." (As far as I'm concerned, anyway.) My last time to gaze into the brand new face of a completely unknown person. My last time to caress soft cheeks and slightly wrinkled newborn hands, knowing that I was the first person on the planet to ever do so. She was a miracle. My Selah Marie... [To be continued...]
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