My Big Ole Family Birthed a Baby

My big extended family had a baby recently. While little cherubic uterine-dweller Danny slowly inched his way toward the outside world, each of us plodded through our day, calmed our expectant hearts, and squelched our desire to catch the next flight to Pensacola, FL. It was all we could do not to crowd into that delivery room with my nephew and his wife.

If we had caught the next flight and crowded together down there, I have no doubts we’d have set up a card table next to the parents-to-be and played cards while we waited for the new mom to get all that pesky work of delivering a baby out of the way. There’d have been lots of jokes, storytelling, drinks, food — you name it. No delivery room would have seen such party-hardiness in the history of hospital deliveries.

Of course, that never happened. Instead, our extended family waited at our various home locales throughout the eastern U.S. biting our nails for the better part of a day, waiting, waiting for news to arrive. This is what I mean when I say we had a baby. It sure felt like it.

For example, I worked on the leaves covering my yard. I have this new hair-brained idea that I can make free mulch by gathering the stupefying number of leaves lying in mountains in my yard and hand-scooping them into my new leaf shredder. It’s not a quick job, let me tell you. It’s laborious — like being in labor. I grunt, heave, and breathe. Then I relax.

I slowly gave birth to my leaf mulch in Virginia while human birthing was going on in Florida. I’d stop to check my phone periodically to see if any news had arrived. Nothing yet. It was a big exercise in patience.

While I shredded leaves, my mind drifted to the times I’d been in labor and the whole life-changing scene it is. It’s the unknown on steroids. By the time you get to those first tremors of contractions, your offers have long been rejected by the childbirth gods. Look, God of Labor Pain, if you spare me this one time, I promise I’ll tell all the other uninitiated out there that labor is a piece of cake. You offer this because you think that’s what GLP wants — more sacrificial newbies.

Unfortunately, the labor pain god has no care in the world for your deals, for more sacrifices, or for cake of any kind. This is because people have babies no matter what. And this is due to the fact babies are worth all the pain in the world. The childbirth deity simply wants to perpetuate her top ranking in the pain chart. It’s about valor.

My nephew sent a video later that night of brand-new baby Danny. It was a hushed scene of the baby up close and the only thing you can hear is his teeny hiccups. You see his face earnestly open to the world which is opening itself to him. Any amount of pain was worth that perfect half-minute video. This would be too easy for me to say if I hadn’t been through it myself and know it to be true.

In the few days leading up to our family’s collective remote birthing of little Danny, I spoke to my nephew and his wife. They both sounded cool-headed and ready, though the mother-to-be was asking questions about the labor process — the water breaking, the pushing, the pain. We spoke for a while and I tried to describe what I could because it seemed her biggest fear was the unknown — and it would be!

When you’re approaching your first labor and delivery, you hear all the stories. They sound like a horror film on hallucinogens. Plus, just the simple fact of logistics — an entire baby must move from point A to point B. You try to conceive of those two points and that baby. You’re thinking, I’m not the Suez Canal.

Love and all its hormones, its philosophy and theology, its biology and psychology — it will get us through the tough times. Sometimes this takes a while. Sometimes, as in childbirth, it only takes but a day, and soon you have pushed through the hardest physical experience you’ve known to date, likely. It will help you cope.

As my family waited impatiently for our new baby, there were text messages flying up and down the eastern seaboard. Thankfully, we’d already completed the family poll on which outfit Danny should wear home from the hospital. I voted for the green one, and I was sure I voted correctly. The gray one was cute but humdrum. The white one was fancy but not adorbs. The green one had the best hat, a leaf and animal-themed top, and cool-mint pants. Green won.

At long last, after we’d made it through our workday while keeping our thoughts glued to the delivery room in Pensacola, my family finally delivered its newest member. Danny was healthy and hiccup-y, a typical length and weight, and in my opinion, looks like both his parents. He’s a handsome little fellow already. We all did a great job! I slept well that night.

Now we get to enjoy the next two decades of watching this person grow from baby to child to young adult. I’ll enjoy watching my nephew and his wife grow into parenthood, which I have no doubt they’ll do with love and commitment. I know these three will teach each other, and I hope they’ll notice the lessons when they come. There will be many. This is life — enjoying the love that is embedded within it, embracing the learning, and growing into the best version of yourself day by day.

We love you, baby Danny. We already think you’re the best. Welcome to the world.