The same midwife helped with the delivery of our next baby. He was eleven days "overdue" and I had start and stop labor starting
Thursday and he wasn't born until Sunday afternoon. She waited patiently for things to kick in. We finally called her around 1:00 a.m. Sunday when
contractions started getting intense. She arrived shortly with two midwife assistants, but after listening to me breathe through a
contraction or two, she dozed off on the couch. I was inclined to moan a little louder to make her more sympathetic, but anyway, nothing much
impressed her, and we kept plugging away through the night. 

        Contractions remained consistent and occasionally I'd feel a little release or tendency to relax the pelvic floor at the end of each
contraction. I kept moving around a lot, but eventually got tired and decided to settle in an incliner. The midwives moved drop cloths around
me and propped a birthing stool under my feet, and once made me raise my legs way up and encouraged me to push, but it was excruciating, and I was
hollering at them that I couldn't stand that position. During one of the pushes on that chair, though, my water broke. No meconium! I think that
was around noon. Still I pushed and pushed with no results. They kept trying me in different positions. I remember that I had recently read
that in some tribe they hang the laboring women from a tree branch so that gravity can help birth the baby, and I was starting to think they
might as well do that with me, we had tried so many positions, and I was exhausted from pushing so long. It had already been a couple hours.
       
      Finally we really went to praying, especially confessing any wrong thoughts, since by that time I had been really railing against God
in my mind about how this was going. Right after that, one of the midwife assistants suggested I try squatting. As I said, they could have hung me
from a tree by then, so off the bed I went, got into a squat with my husband sitting on the bed to support me from behind, and in two pushes,
out he came, at 2:43 p.m.! Nine pounds 1 oz. this time, in perfect condition except for a somewhat odd shaped head, and all was well.
       
     My midwife had told me earlier in my pregnancy that she was  not going to be able to attend this birth, because of legal problems she was
having. Midwifery was not legal in our state at the time, but there had been a big push to get it legal, and a lot of the midwives had made a
bold stand before the legislature with records to prove the safety of home birth, etc., and in doing so, of course, had to expose who they
were. Then, when the legislature voted it down, the attorney general had a lot of ammunition to use against any who continued practicing. In spite
of this, after she had told me she couldn't risk being at my birth, she later contacted us again and said she was sure the Lord was telling her
to be at my birth. This woman is remarkably brave and full of faith. 

        By the time my next baby was due, though, a law had been passed requiring midwives to be certified by the state, and ironically my
midwife, who had founded the state's Christian midwife's association and had probably delivered more babies than any other midwife in the state,
was not passed. So this time she felt she could not be the primary midwife, but could legally assist a certified midwife that she was good
friends with.
       
     One thing I pressed for this time was to pass on the routine blood and urine tests, because I felt they opened the door to fear, and
they had just caused unnecessary alarms that had been meaningless in my last two pregnancies. The primary midwife was not too thrilled, but my
regular midwife was excited to take another step out in faith. However, my due date was nearly two weeks past, with only a hint or two of
anything imminent. I was also refusing internal exams to avoid an accidental stripping of the membranes or any other risks, so more and
more the primary midwife was coming to the conclusion that I was too difficult to deal with. When I hit the two week mark, she bowed out,
saying (not to me but to my regular midwife) that she believed it wouldn't be a good birth. Because of the conflicts we had had, I had been
praying that only those people the Lord wanted at my birth would be there, and it turned out my sister had specifically prayed that this
midwife would NOT be there.

        So, there we were again, and my dear friend in faith was not about to desert me. My labor started the next day, day 15, around noon,
but once again it followed the last labor's pattern, consistent contractions of reasonable intensity, not painful, occasionally stopping
for a couple of hours. I could doze in a chair from time to time and I was pretty comfortable. I walked a lot and squatted during contractions
trying to keep things going. The contractions never were closer than ten minutes apart. This continued through Friday and into Saturday. My
midwife had called on Thursday and knew about my poky start, and we were sort of thinking maybe we wouldn't contact her at all, to spare her from
getting into any legal trouble. But on Saturday she called to see how things were going. Nothing much had changed, but she offered to come over
and see how things were going later in the evening, after she'd checked in on a situation at the hospital and I felt I could use the input that
everything was all right.
      
     She arrived around 8:00 in the evening and asked me if I'd agree to an internal exam. I did, and I was 8 cm. dilated. I was so excited! I
had not been truly uncomfortable at all and had progressed that far! I was sure the baby would be born before midnight.
       
    Unbeknownst to me, my husband had gotten a word from the Lord that the baby would not be born until Sunday, and that it was another
boy. He had gotten the word Thursday night but hadn't wanted to discourage me that I'd be in labor that long again, so he had kept it to
himself. Now he confided to the midwife to give her the freedom to go home and rest if she wanted, and a little later went ahead and told me,
so that I wouldn't get too excited too soon. I still figured, "Okay, 12:01, what do I care?" 
     
     But I continued the same way throughout the night and morning dawned with still no baby. As I wandered around the house enduring
contractions, my midwife dozed on one couch in the living room and my husband on another couch in the family room, and I kept wishing someone
would wake up and feel sorry for me.
  
      When things got particularly uncomfortable, I'd head for the bathtub and soak in the warm water. Usually it slowed down my
contractions and gave me a rest. Around 9:30 I was in the tub and I knew that, since it was Sunday, a fellowship of family members would be
meeting at 10:00, so we called them to pray that the labor would really get going. Less than ten minutes later, as I sat in the tub, my
contractions picked up and I involuntarily pushed, and it seemed like a spurt of water came out. I hollered that I was pushing, and my midwife
came and helped me out of the tub and to the bedroom. She set me up on a birthing stool and I tried pushing a few times. Then she decided to try
me on my hands and knees on the bed. This seemed to be much more effective. After several pushes my son was born at 10:15 a.m. weighing 7
lbs. 4 oz. He came out with a gush of water -- and meconium from head to toe! My midwife had brought a special piece of electric suction equipment
with her and she used that to clear out his nose and lungs. He didn't seem to be having any problems.
   
     I couldn't believe how good I felt immediately afterwards. I felt like I could run around the block a few times, I had so much energy. The
Lord had provided me with incredible strength. 

continued