You know those birth stories where the mom’s in labor for, like, 40 hours, and it’s miserable and hard and she cries a lot and everyone worries about the baby and then, finally, at the end the baby FINALLY comes out, with a lot of help, and everyone’s exhausted but proud because they got through it?
Eli’s birth story was nothing like that.
Eleven years ago today, at about this time of day, I started feeling some pressure in my abdomen. I called a friend (Meredith Barringer Sutton) and told her that I felt “funny” but that I didn’t want to bother Carey at work.
About an hour later, I did call him and asked him to come home, because I just felt so odd. “But don’t hurry, Babe–just whenever you’re able to get away.”
A little later, I called again and said, “Oh, and pick up some snacks on your way home?”
When Carey arrived home, around 1:30pm, I was in the tub with our 3-year-old son, and I said, “I think we might have this baby today. I don’t know, though.”
Thirty minutes later, Elijah Pierce Head slid out into the world on a second hollering push, into the hands of his mother and father simultaneously, while his big brother watched shows in the other room with his hands over his ears to block out the “too loud! too loud!”
Eli’s birth was strange, and powerful, and fast, and he hasn’t slowed down on any of those measures since. Still skinny, too.