Josiah.
The boy-king of Judah who grew up to tear down idols, restore God’s law, and lead his people back to true worship.
The last good king of Judah after Hezekiah in the Bible.
Did we do that on purpose?
No, but God did.
(Everything He does is on purpose.)
When He gave us that name, we didn’t really pay much attention to its meaning at the time. We just knew it was his name, because He gave it to us at the exact same moment.
We were sitting at a Bible study about King Josiah (in separate areas of the room) when I received a text message from Jereme:
“What do you think of Josiah as a name?”
I turned around and mouthed the words: “I was gonna ask you that…”
At age 41, I expected a more difficult pregnancy. It was probably my easiest one yet.
”Watch this be my hardest birth,” I said, jokingly.
For a brief moment, I guess I forgot that the tongue has the power of life and death… (Proverbs 18:21). For the words I spoke indeed came to be.
Thursday, June 5…
I’d been having a few contractions while sitting at my desk.
The kind that make you stop and catch your breath.
They were intense, but far apart. No more than one or two per hour.
Must be Braxton Hicks and I’m just feeling them more?
When I stood up and walked around, they stopped – confirming my hypothesis.
Friday, June 6 – early morning, before dawn…
I awoke several times to those same intense feelings.
Am I in labor?
It was strong enough to wake me up, but still inconsistent. And I was able to fall back asleep immediately.
So, no … it’s probably just more Braxton Hicks.
I continued to have intense contractions throughout the day, but they were sparse and inconsistent.
Around 9:45, I texted our midwife:
“Hey it feels like things may be happening…”
”Try to sleep if you can …” she said.
Sleep. It sounded wonderful. But my heart was pounding and my stomach was in knots.
I’ve done this five times already … why am I so afraid right now?
I’d had five uneventful, peaceful, Spirit-filled home births, and yet, somehow I couldn’t shake this uneasy feeling. Perhaps I had let the voices of doubt and fear creep in?
”You know, you’re in your 40s … pregnancy and birth get harder as you age.”
”What do you have against giving birth in a hospital?” (As if I might need the medical system to come to my rescue.)
”This is your sixth birth, and women who have more than 5 kids tend to have harder labors…”
All statements by well-meaning friends and family members that echoed inside my head as I tried to fall asleep.
But those intense contractions kept waking me up.
2am – I called the midwife.
”I think you should come over.”
She was only 10 minutes away, so it didn’t take long for her to get here.
Fear and doubt continued to consume my thoughts while I paced our bedroom.
I don’t want to do this again…
What if something goes wrong? What if this birth is not like all the others?
They were all so easy, but this one already felt so different…
I hate pushing … I don’t want to push this baby out.
(Even after five births with no more than 20-minute pushing stages, I still dreaded the “ring of fire”.)
After unpacking all the necessary supplies, our midwife decided to take a nap while I continued to labor.
Why aren’t my contractions getting closer together?
They were so intense, but sporadic.
30 minutes … 15 minutes … 1 hour … 10 minutes … 20 minutes … another hour…
Saturday, June 7 – 7:30am
”I think we’re gonna leave…”
After five hours with no progression, our midwife and her assistant decided to go home and get some rest.
She offered to check my cervix, but I declined. I had never had a cervical check in labor before, and didn’t want to open that door now.
“Call me when your contractions are 4 to 5 minutes apart.”
(I didn’t think to ask what I should do if that never happened.)
I just wanted to sleep.
But every time I laid down…
Freight train. Straight into my uterus. Vibrating all the way through my back.
Is this back labor?
I’ve never felt this before. Not like this.
Saturday afternoon, around 1pm…
My niece had been texting with Jereme as I continued to labor through the rest of the morning:
“Tell her to try the Miles Circuit.”
I had done the Miles Circuit in my last pregnancy, and in this one, and knew it was useful for kickstarting labor. I decided to take her advice and see if it would help me progress any further.
Step 1: Cat-cow. Chest low. Bottom high.
Hold. Just hold.
Twenty minutes in … there’s that freight train again.
Don’t move. Stay here.
Thirty minutes. Done.
Step 2: Left side. Top leg high. Pillows everywhere.
Roll forward. Hold.
Uuuuuugggghhh! Too much. Too strong. Side-lying always makes it worse.
I can’t do this. I just want sleep.
But I stay. Thirty minutes.
Step 3: Get moving.
Birth ball. Bounce. Too tired to walk.
Nausea. Wave after wave.
Transition? No.
Contractions are still scattered. Too far apart. Doesn’t make sense.
Call the midwife? Too early. She’ll just say wait.
Lay down. Just sleep. Please, body, let me sleep.
3:45 pm… I fell asleep.
“Mommy, mommy…”
My 2-year-old had walked in the room and was trying to climb up on the side of the bed behind me.
I could feel the freight train in the distance, slowly making it’s way back into my uterus.
“No, sweety, you can’t come up here.”
Thankfully, my mom walked in and quietly escorted him out.
Then suddenly…
WHOOSH.
Warm flood down my legs.
Water. Broken.
Freight train coming again… no, worse. I have to push. My body wants to push.
How is that possible? I was just sleeping…
Jereme walks in.
“How’s it going, babe?”
“MY WATER JUST BROKE. I NEED TO PUSH.”
I called my midwife. She answered right away:
“Hey, how’s it going?”
Again: “MY WATER JUST BROKE AND I FEEL LIKE I NEED TO PUSH!
THIS BABY IS COMING NOW!”
“Okay, I’m on my way. I’ll stay on the phone with you while I drive.”
I could feel him crowning …
3:55 pm … His head’s out.
It actually felt like …
A relief.
The “ring of fire” I had dreaded was more like a mild stretching sensation this time.
But I didn’t like the look on Jereme’s face…
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing … just … I think you need to push.”
Midwife on speaker:
“She can just wait for the next contraction. I’m almost there.”
Almost there.
Almost here.
4pm … Midwife rushes in.
“Hands and knees … one more push.”
4:05 pm … out. He’s out.
It’s over. Done. I did it.
I DID IT.
but … silence.
Puff, puff … “Come on baby, wake up!”
He’s not crying.
Why isn’t he crying?
Is this why Jereme had that look on his face?
Lord, please. Breathe into his lungs. Don’t take him from me. Not now. Not like this.
“Ha-waah … ha-waah … ha-waah!”
His soft, raspy cry broke the deafening silence.
“Thank you, Yeshua … Thank you!”
The umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck and shoulder. Apparently his face was blue when his head came out, which explained the look on Jereme’s face.
4:30-ish … my placenta finally came out.
Followed by an estimated 2.3L of blood. Our midwife administered some drugs to force my uterus to contract, and the bleeding stopped.
Despite being what hospitals would label “severe”, the blood loss hardly affected me. Within an hour, I was able to walk to the bathroom, pee, sit in a warm bath and return to my bed without feeling dizzy or like I was going to pass out. The bloodwork from my postpartum follow-up visit revealed that I was not anemic, likely because I had been so vigilant with my nutrition throughout pregnancy.
It was my easiest pregnancy and my hardest labor.
“Would you still choose a home birth next time after all that?”
Absolutely.
100 percent.
No question.
And looking back, if I had let my midwife check my cervix for dilation earlier on or even let her break my water, it could have possibly resulted in a much faster birth and prevented some of the risks we experienced.
But – call me crazy – I would still do it all over again, the exact same way … completely natural, at home, with no interference.
(The only change I’d make is calling my midwife to come back over sooner!)
Why?
Because just like his namesake, Josiah—whose obedience tore down idols and restored God’s ways to His people—I wanted this birth to glorify the Lord by walking it out His way.
Even in the midst of pain and trial, His design is good. And when we endure suffering for the sake of obedience, His glory is revealed.
“For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.” — 2 Corinthians 4:17
Fittingly, the name Josiah means: “Yahweh heals” or “Yahweh supports”.
And that’s exactly what He did.
