I wanted to make sure I wrote the story of Peter's birth here. This blog has become a place for me to both process and keep a record of some of my life's most significant junctures.
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WRITTEN SUNDAY, MAY 10, 2020 (Mother's Day)
I’m actually writing this on Mother’s Day 2020. Baby Peter has been fed and I smile as I watch him wiggle his little swaddled legs on the baby monitor, lulling himself to sleep. Today, he is 2 weeks old (plus a day). My heart is absolutely full of gratitude. You see, last year, on the week prior to Mother’s Day 2019, we lost a baby due to miscarriage. “Little Bug”, we affectionately would call that baby, made me a Mama. I mourned the loss of our Little Bug, and my heart ached a little extra on Mother’s Day last year given our loss. When we learned of the new pregnancy fairly soon after the miscarriage, I felt grateful, yet a bit reserved in my excitement. I tried to suppress feeling any sort of joy, in fear of losing this little baby too and repeating the cycle of heartache all over again. After a few months, and many healthy conversations with inspiring people in my life, I allowed JOY to be a part of this pregnancy journey. When the coronavirus began to transform the world, we were curious how our pregnancy would be affected. With my mom as a nurse at a county hospital in the heart of the Bay Area, we are uniquely aware of the impact that the Coronavirus has played in the community we’re living in. We slowly gained a peaceful confidence that everything would work out as it should. With the adjustments made to our working/ living circumstances, my husband and I found solace in the gift of “togetherness” the month leading up to Peter’s birth. The impact of COVID-19 offered us the opportunities to work from home in quiet, calm, and genuinely peaceful circumstances. I recognize that not all work situations offer this, so we were feeling particularly thankful.
At the hospital, only one additional person (beyond me) was allowed in the delivery room. It actually turned out to be such a tremendously sacred experience for our little family. There were no “extra” people in the hospital when we went…only essential staff members and essential patients. When it was time to push, the only people in the room were: me, Jacob (my husband) and one incredible nurse. Baby Peter has a middle name after my Grandpa James (Jim) Davis who passed a few years ago. We played my Grandpa Davis’ piano music on my phone as we began the hour pushing and delivery process. I never imagined that situation being as peaceful as it was. Sure, it was painful (thank goodness for the meds!) But overall, the chaos and agony that I previously associated with delivering a baby just wasn’t there. It was uncomfortable physically, but uniquely beautiful and holy. Eventually, the doctor and two additional nurses joined the party. Even still, the room was filled with a deep sense of calm—a gift that was welcomed during a time of global uncertainty.
As I’ve reflected on these past two weeks, and even this past year, I am reminded of the tremendous gift our son Peter is. I feel honored to be his mom. I am grateful for the opportunity we will have to learn from his example. I am hopeful that the presence of peace as a focal point of his arrival serves as a symbol for his legacy. I know that the babies, like Peter, who are being welcomed into the world right now are teaching us all how to find peace in chaos, gratitude in simplicity, and hope in newness.
