Rhodes Everett Is Here!

So, our baby was born on Friday night.

And by "our," I mean, our daughter and her husband's baby.

Toe-MAY-toe, toe-MAH-toe.

It was a long, long day...even for those of us who weren't trying to push a small human out of their body.

I texted Holly first thing in the morning, like I usually do, to ask how she was feeling. She said, "contraction-y...so, not good."

I got up, and got ready. At 7:15, she texted, "DON'T FREAK OUT, but we are headed to the hospital to get checked out."

Freak out? MEEEEEEE?

She told us later, that she wasn't sure about the contractions she was having, so she decided to time them on this app she had on her phone. After a short time of monitoring her contractions, the advice of this app was, "call an ambulance," or "go to the hospital NOW."

Freak out? MEEEEEE?

One they got to the hospital, it seemed like a long time before we heard from her. Granted, the hospital is 40 minutes away...and there's parking...walking...getting assessed. BUT STILL. She finally texted that they had put her on a monitor, and were watching her contractions. She told me not to come up there right now, or call anyone, because she didn't know if they would be staying...or sent home.

They checked her, and she was dilated to 4 cm. They started an IV...I said, "so they are gonna keep you?" She said, "not sure." And she said something about anesthesia coming by to get her to sign consent forms...just in case. But for us to not come up there right now.

Mmmmm...mmmm...they aren't sending her home.

She texted to say they had started epidural...but not to come up there yet.

Is there a worse thing to be told?

Yes, yes there is. I've heard some of them: "Your child has a disability." "He has a heart condition." "Your mother went to be with Jesus." "Your child has cancer."

Yep...there are worse things. BUT I'M JUST SAYIN'.

We waited...and waited...and waited. Which, typing it all out NOW, I realize it was only about 4 hours, BUT STILL.

Finally, she told us we could come up there "if we wanted to." Jim said he thought he might mow the yard first. I thought we were gonna have to have a "come to Jesus" meeting, but he came out of our bedroom, showered and ready. We decided to grab lunch, and then head down to LR to the hospital. While we were sitting at Chick, Holly texted to say, "y'all can come now," which I took to mean..."it's getting close...you might miss it...get down here NOW."

We got down there, and she was dilated to 8. In a couple of hours, she was at almost 9...and that's where she stayed. They decided to break her water, and we went out to the waiting room. And that's where we stayed for HOURS, with very little updates.

She texted to tell us she was starting to push. Two hours later, still no baby. I was getting worried.

And, I just want to lay this out there. I have 3 sons...and I love my son-in-law...but there is a difference when your DAUGHTER is the one having a baby. A 'UUUUUGE difference.

Because, here's the thing: barring some freak accident, or a sudden heart-attack in the labor/operating room...my son-in-law was going to walk through those waiting-room doors, very much alive and well. I did not have the same assurance with my daughter, or her unborn baby.

So I didn't want to hear how nervous Aaron might or might not be...ya know?

I sat there, praying. Jim brought me a Subway sandwich for dinner...I couldn't eat. At one point, we looked up to see some long-time friends walking through the door. They knew we were there, and they just wanted to come sit with us...like they had done so many times before. During my week-long labor with Clark...his birth...his cancer diagnosis...his surgery...even some of my subsequent surgeries...they were there.

Consistent. Faithful.

God sent them to us at just the exact right time. Holly finally sent a text that said, "going for c-section." It was about 8:45. We figured the baby would be born around 9. We knew we wouldn't get to see Holly right after, but we thought we might get to see Aaron...and hear an update...or maybe see the baby in the nursery.

NOPE.

We waited and waited and waited.

Joshua was beside himself with worry. He never cries, but he grabbed me and held onto me...and tears were rolling out of his eyes. He said, "I'm so worried about Goupie."

Side note: He has called Holly "Goup," or "Goupie" for as long as we can remember. We don't know where it came from, or what it means.

Finally, the doctor came out. She said all she could tell us was that Mom and baby were fine...that the baby was a "big, ol' boy," and that Holly and Aaron were tickled to death with him.

I could write forever and a day about his birth story, but maybe Holly will write it on her blog...and I can just link it here.

We finally got to see all 3 of them at 1 a.m. Holly looked great...Aaron looked excited and relieved...and the baby? Y'all, he is beautiful.

No, really.

BEAUTIFUL.

I'm not just saying that. You can look on my Facebook and IG (martythemoose) and see for yourself.

He was born at 8:48 p.m. It was nearly 8:45, when we saw them rolling Holly down to the OR. Which means, that baby was OUT OF THERE in a matter of minutes. Single digits minutes.

When they pulled him out, the doctor and the nurses said there was NO WAY Holly could've delivered him on her own. His head was too big for the bone structure of her body.

I am so thankful for medical technology. Even tho Holly was adamant about NOT wanting a c-section, she had to have one. I am thankful for the option of surgery...for the wisdom and discernment of her doctor...for a swift and safe delivery...and that she and baby Rhodie were held in the mighty hands of God.

"You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in Your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed." Psalm 139:16