Henry Lynn's Birth Story

Our son Henry, was born the day of my mom’s funeral two years ago this week. As crazy as that is, his birth story is truly one of my favorite stories to tell because it displays the power of prayer and God’s goodness (yes, goodness) so well. I have wanted to write it down for some time, and am so glad to share it with you now:

Diagnosis

When I was 36 weeks pregnant with our son Henry, we found out that my mom had terminal cancer. I was having braxton hicks contractions for weeks leading up to the diagnosis, knowing something was wrong with my mom, but the contractions became far more frequent and intense after the official diagnosis. Every time I would start to really track them though, they would stop by time I went to bed.

But on the day she died, those braxton hicks contractions completely stopped. I felt like David when he was mourning over his infant son (2 Samuel 12:22): my body showing signs of stress while there was still time to pray and beg God to heal my mom, but stopping after that opportunity had passed. It felt like a sign that deep down on a physiological level, I had some level of peace.

I had spent the last 3 months making doctors appointments, driving her to each one, doing research, begging doctors to believe me that something was seriously wrong with my mom, juggling a not even two year old while being close to labor with our second son, and constant OB appointments. As our Pastor told us the day she died, “she is at rest now, so you can rest now too.” Rest from the hurrying, the appointments, the unknown. There wasn’t peace in my heart yet, but there was somehow peace in my body. 

Since I was not due for over another week, choosing a funeral date within 5 days felt like a relatively safe bet, especially since my false contractions had completely stopped at this point and my first son had come a few days late.

Funeral Day

I woke up at 5am that morning to pee (as any pregnant woman does), and when I was done, I heard a plop—it was my mucus plug! I knew that meant real labor was on the horizon, but with Zechariah I still didn’t go into labor for another day or two after losing it so I wasn’t too worried and just went back to bed. But then, almost immediately, real contractions started and were intense enough to wake me up every 15 minutes. These weren’t braxton hicks anymore, these were the real thing. Around 7am I finally woke my husband up and told him I thought labor was really happening.

We were supposed to leave for the funeral in a few hours, and I was just in and out of tears, struggling so much with the thought of not being able to go to my own mom’s funeral. To not be there for my brother and his kids, to not see all the people that were going to show up there just for me, to not get that closure. Seriously God?! 

I just sat there in my pajamas, unsure whether to change into my hospital-going clothes or my nice funeral dress. The contractions were now nearly 7 mins apart and getting a little stronger. (My OB had said second children often come faster, and that we should come in once contractions are 7 mins apart for an hour vs. the usual 5 mins apart). At this point it seemed inevitable that I wouldn’t make it to the funeral at all, and was praying to feel at peace over that “fact.”

Many friends & family were praying for us that morning too, and one friend in particular (Jordan) happened to text me that she was praying for me that day, and I responded to please pray that the contractions would slow down enough for me to be able to go to the funeral. I wanted to badly to be able to go for just some of it. She responded that she was “taking it to the throne now.”

I remember having a contraction when I received that text, and thinking “what a lot of good that’s doing…” But I soon realized about 8 mins later that I hadn’t had another contraction yet. Then another 7 mins passed, and another, and another, with no contractions. Finally at 30 mins I had another contraction, but it was so much less intense than the others before. 30 minutes later, the same thing happened. It seemed like they were slow enough to try to make it to the funeral! So we quickly dressed in our funeral best, threw our hospital bag in the car, praying to at least make it through some of the visitation.

We got there a little early to set up some photos of my mom, and as I stood there putting up the photos and chatting with the funeral director, I felt a little water start to trickle down my leg. I finished the conversation as quickly and calmly as I could and then rushed to the bathroom to confirm it wasn’t pee. Nope, not pee. It was definitely my water breaking, but not much yet. (And side note, for most women your water does not break on its own, that only happens in the movies! What is this, a movie?!) Normally when you’re in the hospital, they break your water for you to speed up labor, so I was certain the contractions were about to come on again much stronger. My heart sank thinking I was going to have to leave before any of the visitors even arrived.

Jon called the hospital to tell them my water had started to break, and they of course wanted me to come in right away. We explained the situation to them and they gave the “OK” to stay only if my contractions remained far apart, but they were pretty sure that wouldn’t be long.

Eventually visitors started to arrive, and miraculously my contractions remained at 30 mins apart and still not very strong. Praise God I was able to stay through the entire visitation and service!!

People would jokingly say, “You look like you’re about to pop! When is the baby coming?” I’d reply, “Today!” and they would all laugh, assuming I was making a joke. I just seemed so NOT in labor for someone who was very much in labor!

As the service was coming to a close, I was definitely starting to feel the contractions a little more often and a little more strong, but was determined to make it to the end at this point and share the eulogy I had prepared. Many friends, family, and church members stood up to speak such loving and heartfelt words about my mom that I will forever cherish and am SO thankful that I got to hear. My brother spoke some final words, and then last but not least was myself to close out the service.

I was sitting in the front row right in front of the little podium that everyone was speaking at, and as I stood up from my chair, I felt a gush of water pouring down my legs. There it was, the rest of my water breaking, and all eyes were on me. It didn’t make a sound, and I was wearing a long dress so it quickly occurred to me that no one else could likely tell, so I quickly scooted behind the podium to hopefully hide any puddle my water was making.

And praise God, I was able to make it through my entire speech! I think the distraction of my water breaking allowed me to make it through without breaking down into sobs, getting all of the words out, which I am so thankful for. 

Afterwards, I exited with everyone else while attempting to coordinate final child care decisions for Zechariah as we would be leaving immediately for the hospital now. Again, no one believed I was in active labor and kept stopping me to share last-minute memories of my mom, ask questions on who to make a check out to, and so on. One woman in particular held me up for some time as I repeatedly tried to interrupt her that I WAS HAVING A BABY and she just laughed and kept on talking! It’s so humorous to me now, and something I know my mom would have a good laugh about too.

Hospital

My labor & delivery with our first son, Zechariah, was incredibly long and difficult, almost resulting in an emergency c-section. We worked for months afterward to be able to breastfeed, caught painful thrush in those first weeks, and didn’t sleep more than 30 minutes at a time for months to name just a few of the hardships.

I remember praying especially hard throughout my pregnancy with Henry to have a 15 hr labor (vs. the 30 hr labor with my first). But when we got to the hospital, I was still only 4cm dilated with just 5 hours left to meet that “deadline” I was praying for. Considering that with Zechariah I came into the hospital at 7cm and it took 12 hours to finally make it to 10cm, I wasn’t hopeful. This is going to be a while.

Things certainly felt slow at first, but then quickly started to ramp up. And all the while, we weren’t experiencing any of the complications that I had had with my first birth (thank you, God!). Knowing my mom had given birth to me without an epidural, I had debated whether or not to get one this time in a way to therapeutically “share in her sufferings” (careful what you wish for!). At 7cm I finally did ask for an epidural, but they weren’t able to get to me as quickly as they normally do since there was an emergency c-section going on. An hour after I asked for the epidural, they were finally in the room and starting to administer it. I had never been in so much pain in my life—and no wonder because as soon as they were done, the OB checked and I was 10cm! I was apparently in transition! It was time to push.

I had only pushed for 15 minutes with my first son, but knew that was unusually quick so wasn’t expecting to do that again, especially with the epidural taking little to no effect at this point. But lo and behold, I was holding our healthy baby Henry in just 15 minutes! I glanced at the clock, and from the time of that first 5am contraction, it was 14 hours and 45 minutes of labor. We have a God who sees and hears us, friends!

Life with Henry Lynn

We had gone back and forth on what his middle should be, but as soon as he was born we both knew it had to be my mom’s middle name: Lynn.

The first night in the hospital, I kept waking up and freaking out that something must be wrong with Henry, he just kept on sleeping! He hardly cried! That certainly wasn’t like our only other experience with a newborn. 

The Lord is being kind to us in these first few days, we kept saying. Then in the coming weeks he breastfed and gained weight beautifully. He slept for 3 hour stretches from the very start, we even had to WAKE him to feed him! (unheard of if you asked us).

The Lord is being kind to us in these first few weeks, we said. Then eventually we found ourselves saying, the Lord is being kind to us in these first few months. Then, the Lord has been kind to us in this first year of our grief. He was just SUCH an easy baby!! And has honestly remained so these entire two years.

Now all we can say is simply that the Lord is kind.

So now on days when I start to question:
Does God really answer prayer?
Does God really see us in our pain?
Can God really bring life from death?

I walk myself through the day of my mom’s funeral and cannot do anything but answer a resounding “yes.” And that statement alone is a testament to the grace of our God & Savior, doing what only He can do: redeem all things.