Thanks to Kerrie and Evers for forwarding cached copies of my lost data. I’m reposting this sans comments and pics just for the files. Hey, remember to back-up your stuff, everyone!

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To tell the story best, I need to back up and tell you how I know Kristen.

With the beginning and ending of each pregnancy, I stay on the couch all day and keep the children alive with frozen waffles and pre-recorded shows of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. I knew Kristen from our church, but I didn’t get to know her well until earlier last year when she came over to clean my house. She’d never been to my house before, so having her see it for the first time while I sick was humbling. She vacuumed under the couch, and it was bad.

It easy to be friends with Kristen. When you try to articulate the kind of friend that you want– as well as the kind you hope to be– all the words you fumble around with could be rolled up into one: loyalty. If you meet only a handful of these people along the way, you should be very glad. Kristin is the loyal kind.

I learned about a local midwife providing homebirth services during my last pregnancy at 37 weeks. I did not have a homebirth. But when Kristen complained about her prenatal care, I recommended that she explore the homebirth option. I double-dog-dared her to try it first, and she did it.

I kept in touch with Kristen almost daily as her due date approached. Came. And then went on by. Dave, Kristen’s husband, called around 5 p.m. on Friday night to let me know that Kristen was in labor. For some reason I believed him this time, even though she already had two false attempts several days earlier. She said, “This is it,” in a tone that I recognized. It was still early, but she was going to have that baby. I headed over about 10 p.m.

Dave is an awesome cook, so I munched on eggplant parmesan even though I wasn’t hungry. The midwife and I talked shop for a while. Kristen was still in early labor, and she brought up the subject of my last birth. I didn’t think talking about my horror story was a good idea when she was about to have a baby. She assured me that it didn’t bother her and told me to tell the midwife about my last birth.

I still can’t recount the story without tears, but this night would prove to be a step toward healing that experience. I’m not really into psychobabble. But still. My fifth delivery changed who I am in a profound way, though I have trouble articulating exactly how.

Everyone went to bed around midnight except me. Exactly as I was praying for the Lord to move along Kristen’s birth at 1:30 a.m., I heard her wake up and say, “My water broke.” How awesome for God to show His grace in that answer. Around 2 a.m., things picked up. Dave woke up the midwife, and I boiled water for the birthing tub and just because that’s what they do in the movies.

As I prayed with Kristen, I felt God’s presence. (Yes, that’s allowed for a Presbyterian.) The Lord was there, and I felt honored to be where He was. When it was time for the baby, she came too quickly, so it wasn’t a water birth. It was about 3:07 a.m.

But she is here, and she is beautiful.

I was so proud of Kristen; she was a textbook example of how you’re supposed to labor. She was that good. She and her husband kept thanking me for being there, which was weird, as the privilege all belonged to me. What an honor. On the early morning drive home, I kept thinking, “Another sweet soul for Christ’s kingdom. Thank You, Lord.” Yahoo!

By giving herself to raise another daughter, Kristen will lose more of her life to serve Jesus. My prayer is that she will find her life as she gives it away. It is the way things ought to be. It is the way He designed it. It is the way of the Master.

Here is a little mouth to kiss; here are two more feet to make music with their pattering about my nursery. Here is a soul to train for God, and the body in which it dwells is worth all it will cost, since it is abode of a kingly tenant. I may see less of friends, but I have gained one dearer than them all. Yes, my precious baby, you are welcome to your mother’s heart, welcome to her time, her strength, her health, to her most tender cares, to her life-long prayers! Oh how rich I am, how truly, how wondrously blest!

~ Elizabeth Prentiss’ Stepping Heavenward