Today my little boy, my youngest son, turns 11 years old.

Noah was born almost three years after his brother Gabe. Gabe was my first homebirth baby and my second VBAC. He had been born joyfully  in my living room surrounded by my husband, midwife, doula and a close family friend. I had hoped to duplicate that with Noah’s birth.

But things had changed over those three years. A few months before we had discovered that something just wasn’t “right” with my mother. She just sounded a little strange and inappropriate over the phone and I couldn’t quite put my finger on the problem. But when her phone service was discontinued for nonpayment my sister and I started pleading for her to come and be with us. After begging my EFC to send her to us, mom arrived on a train with no winter coat, an empty suitcase, dirty and disoriented. We found out later that she was suffering from a massive brain tumor that had taken up most of her frontal lobe. One month before my due date, doctors removed Mom’s brain tumor in a 15 hour marathon operation that left one of her hands partially disabled.  After her discharge from the hospital she was living with us while recovering and waiting for her next grandchild to arrive. 

So Noah’s eminent birth was a little stressful to say the least. I remember thinking that we would be lucky if he wasn’t born with gray hair from all of the stress we were under!

Nonetheless, a month after my mom’s operation we were getting ready for a baby. The house was clean and we had all of our birthing supplies. As I was overdue (which seemed to be my norm) I tried a castor oil milk shake on Mr. Pete’s birthday, hoping that our little guy would share his daddy’s birthday. But Noah had other plans and waited three more days to make his appearance.

On the day of his birth I remember we had a big pot of stew simmering on the stove and some homemade bread of some sort and some other goodies. I didn’t want the doctor who was coming or my doula or any of the kids not to have something to eat while we were waiting for the baby to show up. I remember that it was also very close to Easter and I also had a big plate of jelly beans on the table and the kids ate more of those than any of the stew.

The doctor had a long drive to come visit. He was the only physician I knew who attended home births and he also shared our Catholic faith and homeschooling ideals so he was a good find and we were blessed to have him attend us. My labor didn’t really start moving until he came through the door. The rest of the labor was kind of unordinary. My sister had taken my mother out that evening. I don’t remember if it was because we didn’t want her there or if she didn’t want to be there, but I do remember that by 10 that evening, I still hadn’t had the baby but my sister brought mom home anyway. I remember at the time feeling that it was a good thing to have both of them there for the baby’s birth but my sister was reluctant to stay and my mom made a speedy retreat to her room. I’ll never understand that.

The result was labor stalled for a bit but when it finally got going again I remember standing up and the baby came right down. By that time my other children had long since grown bored with labor and were playing games upstairs. My friend ran to get them and I could hear their little feet thundering down the stairs just in time to watch their little brother make a very quick entrance into the world.

And then my mother, who couldn’t bear to watch the labor or actual birth, came out of her room like a kid on Christmas morning and became the first person after me and Mr. Pete to hold Noah in her arms.

For the many months after that while I was recovering, taking care of the kids, or working my mom spent hours in her rocking chair holding Noah. I think he was the best medicine she could have had in recovery from her own surgery.

The poor doctor stayed a bit longer with me because he thought my bleeding was a bit more than he was comfortable with. I guess in the excitement he forgot about the stew and instead grabbed a burger on the way home. I remember feeling victorious and very very hungry!

So Noah wasn’t born on his daddy’s birthday, but instead was born on the feast of the annunciation, the day the church remembers the incarnation, the beginning of Christ’s life inside his mother’s womb, Mary’s fiat to God through His messenger Gabriel! He chose a perfect day to be born.

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