The Miracle of Alivia

I originally posted this on facebook, but thought I'd put it here too...


Alivia's birth was an absolutely divine, full-blown, all-out miracle.

Maybe some of you knew that, maybe not. But I feel like I have the privilege... no, the responsibility, rather, of telling her story, as a tribute to the goodness and the faithfulness of God to His children. I've been waiting to write it until I have it all together, but let's face it, that could take me years. So here is my best for now.

A week after John joined the National Guard, we found out we were pregnant. I knew I would be spending most of the pregnancy without him, while he was in training, and I was scared. Scared of a million things... of being apart in our first year of marriage, of being alone, of being a mom, of caring for a baby... well, you get the picture. I consider myself a strong person, for the most part, but those five months without him were a faith struggle at best.

By the time May came around, I was as big as I could possibly be and could barely get around much. I cried myself to sleep most nights, afraid of waking up in labor alone and not knowing what to do. All I wanted was to have my husband there with me, to hold my hand and to know my thoughts without me ever saying a word.

Every night for the past five months, I had prayed, "Lord, just let my husband be here to see his baby born." So many people, including our church, had been praying this prayer with us. I wish I could say I was strong in faith: the truth is that I believed God could bring him home in time, I just didn't know if He would. I felt like it was a selfish prayer. I felt like all I should be asking the Lord for was a healthy baby, and to at least be grateful for that.

On May 26, at 1 1/2 weeks overdue, and with my mom and Joy there with me, I went into early labor. The plan was to call the Red Cross to get an emergency message sent to the army, in order to send my husband home. I called, but she politely told me that unless it was a life or death emergency, she could not send him the message that his baby was about to be born. Fifteen hundred miles away in Maryland, John was just as frantic, trying desperately get someone to take his plea seriously. All he wanted was a few days' leave, to come home and be with me for the birth. It seemed we were getting nowhere.

For the next 24 hours, I breathed my way through contractions that went from slightly uncomfortable to almost unbearable. My mom prayed me through the night, standing by me through every contraction and giving me some kind of invisible strength. The midwives stood like angels at the bed, coaching me on as I squeezed the life out of their hands. Joy, Jessie, and Mrs. Bartel all threw themselves into caring for me, encouraging me, and verbally pushing me on through the final stages of labor.

John called off and on, but by the time I was in active labor, I had lost all consciousness of where he was at or if he would ever make it home. I remember a few times, someone mentioned to me that he was "on his way", but I had no idea how long it would take him to get there. By that point, I had given up on my dreams of having my husband hold my hand during labor, seeing his baby born, and us having the joy of holding her for the first time together.

After pushing for an eternity, I became aware of the fact that I could see no more of the baby's head in the mirror, held down at the end of the bed, than I had seen hours before. I began to wonder if I really was even pushing at all, or just going through a terrible amount of pain for nothing. After the midwives and family held a small prayer meeting outside, it was decided that we needed to head to the hospital. It did not matter to me at that point that my dream of having my baby at home had come to an end... I only wanted the baby OUT.

The drive to the hospital was nightmarish, as every bump in the road seemed to add to my agony. The contractions, by this time, had become convulsions, as my body began to realize that it could not get the baby out. The next few moments are a blur of some of the most wonderful and most painful moments of my life. As we pulled into the hospital, there, standing at the entrance to the ER, was John, dressed in his army uniform. My soldier, my husband, my strength. I think by that point, I had given up on seeing him that day. But God had pulled through once again. From giving him divine favor with the sergeants, who let him come home, to allowing him to find a plane leaving for Dallas so soon, to getting him and Joseph through rush-hour traffic... all so that he would be standing there at the hospital just moments before I.

I didn't say much to him at the time. I was in greater pain than I had ever imagined, and I could think of nothing but how much I wanted it to end. After what seemed like hours getting prepped for the OR, they finally had me ready for the C-section. From the moment the spinal began to get into my system, I began to calm down. John held my hand and I cried as I realized that I was finally about to see my sweet baby's face and hold her in my arms. In just a few moments, we saw her, and for the first time, realized just why I had been unable to give birth naturally. At 10 lbs. 4 oz, little Miss "Alivia with an A" Faith Bartel was the biggest and most beautiful baby John or I had ever seen.

If I had time, I would tell you of all the little details in between. Of how thankful I am for doctors and nurses and c-sections, that saves mothers and babies lives every day. Of all the people that saw us through... friends who cared for me while I was husband-less, familly who was there every moment, and midwives who cared for me and Alivia so well, they were literally sent from God. They were the ones that truly got me through one of the hardest experiences of my life.

Today, almost three months later, Livvy is still a testimony to the grace, favor, and faithfulness of a loving God. She is stronger than her age dictates her to be, holding up her little head on her own, among other things. She is beautiful, healthy, and strong, and I believe that her outside is simply a reflection of what is inside of her. John and I know that, even as a baby, everyone that her little hands touch is blessed. She is called to bring good news to the hopeless, whether she knows it yet or not. And like Aunt Sparky says, she came to us straight from the arms of Jesus.