David Kent was born three weeks early on February 11th, 2026: two days after the 70th birthday of his namesake, my late father David Caplin (this is the completely scientific reason I knew immediately we were having a boy: a February due date).
Since I was induced (thanks to complications with gestational diabetes and cholestasis), Little D could have been born on the 9th, too. The only reason he wasn’t was because the hospital didn’t have space. I’m mildly annoyed by that, but truly it’s not a big deal.
What is a big deal is just how different – in a good way – this birth was from my last one. The first time, I was in labor for four days. Both my epidurals failed. Finally, at 8 and a half pounds, Millie got stuck in the birth canal on her way into the world, causing a second-degree tear. Her shoulder was badly bruised.
I’ll never forget the panic I felt when she was taken away from me for oxygen, and didn’t cry for several minutes. No immediate skin-to-skin bonding or “golden hour.” I truly believed she was stillborn. My recovery after stitches took months.
The one redemptive piece of that birth story nightmare is that she was born on Mother’s Day, which was an unexpected gift.
By contrast, David’s birth was far smoother. I hesitate to say “easy,” because childbirth never is. Considering what came before, though, the contrast is significant. Because my last baby was on the larger side, and shoulder dystocia happened once, the risk of recurrence was real.
I reluctantly agreed to a scheduled c-section, but a diagnosis of cholestasis changed that plan. A baby born three weeks early would be significantly smaller than a full-term one, so my OB felt more confident about trying for a vaginal birth.
We checked into the hospital at 7am on the 11th, and he was born by 5:30pm. We were expecting a much bigger baby, thanks to genetics (thanks, 10-pound husband!) and diabetes, but he ended up being 7 pounds, 6 ounces. I requested no pitocin as an induction method (if you know, you know), and never ended up needing it. My epidural actually worked this time.
He was born after just ten minutes of pushing. After being briefly examined for some gunk in his lungs, he was returned to me for that much-awaited golden hour. We went home within 24 hours, with both of us passing our glucose tests.
This birth truly feels redemptive after the chaos of the first one, for which I am deeply thankful. It feels strange to say that I’m proud of it, considering the many factors that were beyond my control, and yet I am. I don’t have a good track record of handling pain or hardship well. Heck, I don’t always handle inconvenience very well. My tendency in times of trial has always been to retreat, to pull inward, and tense up against the struggle with every fiber of my being.
But when it comes to childbirth, this is actually counterintuitive. It’s human instinct to fight against the thing that’s making you suffer, but a “good” labor involves giving in to it. It’s hard to explain if you haven’t personally experienced it, but this remedy can apply to other situations, too: you “lean into” each contraction (or whatever the stressor may be) as they come, essentially welcoming them, or “riding the wave,” rather than tightening up.
I’ve worked on this strategy for months, as anxiety loomed large. From the beginning, it was not an easy pregnancy: there was unexplained bleeding in the first trimester, worsened morning sickness that came and went into the subsequent trimesters, chronic illness and UTIs, and then diabetes and cholestasis in the final weeks.
I practiced deep breaths with prayer: (inhale) Our Father, who art in heaven, (hold, exhale) hallowed be thy name.
This didn’t make the pain go away, but made it a bit easier to bear. Like daily, even hourly, or momentary bread. And this verse also came to mind: My burden is easy, but my yoke is light.
Before I knew it, I was holding my newborn son.
What a tremendous gift of grace: a healthy baby, but also the ability to withstand every complication on the way to meeting him, trusting that God is sovereign and good, even when circumstances are not. My family now has two living miracle children that doctors predicted I’d never be able to conceive. Praise God from whom all blessings flow!
