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And baby makes 4

This is our family a little over two years ago the morning after Ivy was born.  Right away, when I look at this picture, I notice my swollen, red face, Deladis’s disheveled hair (Aunt Leah hadn’t had a baby yet, and they were up all night.), and my peacefully sleeping, round, new love.  Then, I notice John.  Loving Deladis whose just welcoming her new sister and unsure of what that means, he looks as tired as I do.  Puffy under his eyes, and messy hair.  He’s been up with me for almost two days. 

Our journey to Ivy’s birth began on April 26th at 5pm when my water broke ceremoniously as we waited for our dinner at Karma Cafe in Louisville, Kentucky.  It was like something out of the movies.  But, he was calm and unafraid, not embarrassed by a major life event beginning in such a public place.  He trusted my body and birth as much as I did and that meant the world to me.  He called our midwife to tell her what had happened, with nothing but confidence in his voice.  He had been with me for every prenatal appointment.  He had went with me through twelve weeks of Bradley childbirth classes and paid for them.  John had also paid for me to have a doula and a midwife out of pocket.  We can’t afford insurance for the two of us.  He had dedicated himself to me and this baby as he had during every other major moment in our lives since we were teenagers.

The journey finally came to an end at 2:12am on April 28th when our 11 pound baby girl greeted us with her cries and eagerness to nurse.  During this time, we had went to the grocery, ate our boxed food from the restaurant, waited through a sleepless night,  invited women into our home for sagely advice and help, visited the chiropractor, worked on our van that decided to break down on the way home, took many walks, stopped in the middle of busy downtown Louisville for me to get through contractions on the way to the hospital, took many trips to the bathroom, moaned and carried on, made some hard decisions, loved and enjoyed our friends, and ultimately brought forth our baby in safety and love.  I would have been so alone without John.  Never once did he question me through that process.  Never once.  In fact, at times when I thought it was no more, he assured me that there was lots more we could do. 

I think of those two days quite a bit.  How they would have been different without my husband – the daddy – by my side.  I’m forever grateful that I found him so early in my life.  We’ve grown up together and I think with that comes an understanding of one another that goes beyond adult relationship.  We know where we have been first hand.  He trusts me.  I trust him.  As I watch him with our girls – daddy’s girls, I am filled with joy.  Being a daddy’s girl myself, I know how crucial a daddy’s love can be in making everything right in the world.  I thank him for that.  We were married six years before the first was born, and he fell into the role without a blink.  John is a real good daddy.


About Me

An Appalachian woman born and raised, mothering two little girls in a place that is non-existent to AT&T or UPS. Happily working toward a sustainable lifestyle and writing on the demand of a loud muse.

June 2023

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