Happy 1 year since you were born, Aslan!

I'm doing what all moms do on their children's birthday. I'm remembering what I was doing and how my little guy actually made his way into my arms. Happy 1st Birthday Aslan!



Aslan Jude Stout Moist


7 lbs, 14 oz. - 19 3/4 in long





Saturday morning and Saturday night. I'm gonna sum this day up to these words: False Alarm. After walking around the neighborhood and timing contractions...nothing. Dunzo. They gave out on me. No baby boy. Monday morning, however, is when His-Story was created. 4am, I awake to a contraction. A REAL contraction that felt like a cramp. As the stubborn German, I decide to go back to sleep. This was probably another false alarm. 6am, I awake to a contraction. A REAL contraction that felt like a cramp. After this, there was no going back to sleep. The line from Home Alone came to me and I could picture the scene in my head, "This is it. Don't get scared now!"





6:07am, I text my mom. The plan was for her to spend time with Eva while I labored and birthed. I endured a couple contractions while texting and tapped Brandon vigorously on the shoulder. "Babe, I think we should time these contractions." He laid like a statue, still comatose from the deep sleep. I started the tapping again. "Babe, this is the Callthemidwifealreadycalledmymomwearehavingthebaby contractions!" That did it. Out of bed, dressed, down the stairs, and ready to walk and time these surges. 6:19, I called the midwife. After dressing myself and slipping on a pair of earrings (a birthing tradition), I joined him at the front door. Contractions were about 3 minutes apart from the beginning and after walking for 45 minutes, I couldn't keep walking while I was having one.





At 7am our instincts told us to move inside and prepare the lower level for birthing. Our midwife, Mary, had prepared us with a list of all the items we'd need for a home birth. All the odds and ends were downstairs, waiting for the time to be used. Brandon covered the couch and floor with fresh sheets and shower curtain liners and I lit candles and turned on the worship music in between contractions. Mary, the midwife, was on her way. At 7:15, I needed to pee (who gave bodily functions permission to operate during labor anyway?!) and crawled up the first step at the bottom of the stairs. Contraction. Pop! "Brandon, something just popped!" A gush of water filled my leggings. That, my friends, was the water breaking. It was actually a really cool feeling and a definite sign that this baby was on his way.






Forgetting about having to pee, I waddled my way back to the trunk that we use as a coffee table. I put a pillow on top for a soft landing and thought back to Mary. Yes, MARY! "Brandon, how long until she's here?" 7:24, he quickly grabbed his phone and called. 15 more minutes. As I breathed slowly during each passing contraction, I could feel him moving down. I wasn't pushing or tensing, but my body was bringing this little life into the world.





7:42am. Brandon doesn't have to catch the baby. Mary walks in and prepares to catch herself. There were no checks. No questions asked. It's as if she knew and sensed that he was moments from birthing. My body continued to contract and push him out. Mary gave me a play by play, like I was watching an ESPN commentary. Only, this was cooler than the Superbowl and more "intense" than a fight on the field. My contractions pushed Aslan's head out without a single push. The next and final birth...the shoulders and body. With a cry to Jesus and a single push, Aslan's voice resounded for the first time in our lives. 8:06am. He has a story.