A Labor of Love: A Dad’s Perspective of the Birth of His Daughter

Table of Contents

Reason for Writing this Short Memoir

The Beginning of Labor: Monday Morning – July 7th

Laboring at Home: Monday Afternoon

A Change of Plans: A Look Back

The Final Decision: A Look Back

Heading to the Hospital: Monday Evening

Triage and Uncertainty: Early Tuesday Morning – July 8th

Preparing to Be Present

Back Home and Return to Hospital: Tuesday Afternoon

The Right Decision: Wednesday Afternoon – July 9th

Return to Piedmont: Wednesday Evening

Active Labor: Wednesday Evening

Anticipation and Preparation: Thursday Evening – July 10th

The Push: Early Friday Morning – July 11th

Saige’s Arrival: Friday Morning

After the Birth

Postpartum Room: Friday

Becoming a Father: Friday into Saturday – July 12th

Going Home: Saturday afternoon

The First Weeks

Closing Reflection

 

Reason for Writing this Short Memoir

Pearl was the mother of Eunice, and Eunice the mother of Desira, and Desira the mother of Brielle, of whom Saige Makenzie Brummell was born, who is called Wise One.

My daughter Saige is a blessing to my wife and me. She is a miracle and is destined for a life of purpose and divine abundance. It seemed good to me to write an orderly account of her birth.

This writing serves multiple purposes: a reflection journal of a beautiful chapter of my life, a narrative for Saige to read when she can understand, and a testimony for the edification of the reader because God is faithful.

My aim for this text is not brevity, nor is it to craft a novel, but to chronicle the birth of my daughter in an authentic, vulnerable, and transparent manner. What follows reflects the pace and weight of how it was lived. I pray these words resonate with you and that you find value in this story.

You can be anywhere in the world, but you chose to be here with my thoughts. I do not take that lightly. I appreciate your time, and I appreciate you.

Saige, I love you, so I wrote you this note…

The Beginning of Labor: Monday Morning – July 7th

On Monday, July 7th, Brielle started having contractions. Our original due date was July 5th, so they were welcomed.

To celebrate, we went for donuts! That might seem a little odd when your wife just told you she felt something. If we had not been guided by our doula, Jet’aime, owner of Full Bloom Birthing, our priorities might have shifted away from obtaining donuts. We knew we would be laboring at home for about 24 hours, so we did not feel like we needed to rush to the hospital.

The contractions were spaced and sporadic. I would say anywhere from seven to twenty minutes apart. Even though I believe I kept a calm façade on the outside, I was frantic internally because I knew when the contractions ended, our new lives would begin. New life is often found on the other side of discomfort.

Laboring at Home: Monday Afternoon

By the time we got back home from our donut run and ate breakfast with our parents, the contractions were increasing in intensity, and Brielle was noticeably uncomfortable. She spent most of those daytime hours in our bedroom, and we worked as a team to manage each contraction as it came.

We had a TENS unit, which sends electrical signals to the muscles affected, offsetting the pain of the contraction. We used counter-pressure around Brielle’s hips to help with the discomfort in her lower back. This routine went on for a few hours.

Jet’aime instructed us to download a contraction timer app. That was helpful in letting us know how long they lasted and the intensity. There were so many contractions that day, we lost count even when using the app.

The intensity picked up in the evening. Wave after perfectly timed wave of pain came every five to seven minutes, sometimes every three. This had to be it. We had to be getting close. Our bags were packed by the door, and we would be heading out shortly, so I called Jet’aime.

With the calmest voice, she said, “Tomorrow.”

Well, she said a lot of other words, but the one that stood out was tomorrow. I was a little disappointed, but she was correct. The baby did not come that evening. So, into the morning it went, contraction after contraction. Brielle was jostled out of her sleep by the discomfort; me listening, phone in hand, for the slightest sound of grief so I could hit the button to start the timer. Repeatedly, minute after minute, hour after hour, in and out of sleep.

My wife would agonize, and I would hit the button. This lasted all evening, and we knew it would all be worth it because this would be the day that we would meet our baby girl, Saige. The one in our dreams.

The girl we prayed about. The one that would not show us her face on any ultrasound for the entirety of the pregnancy. Eventually, we gave up hope she ever would, so we knew it had to be worth the wait. Our baby girl had to be coming today.

So, that morning, we announced to our family that we would be reserving hotels in Roswell, GA, to be closer to the hospital because it was about 45 minutes away. Why was our hospital so far? We live in Metro Atlanta. Hospitals come a dime a dozen. Kind of.

More specifically, we live in South Fulton, a city with a population of over 100,000 individuals… and zero hospitals. In fact, the nearest hospital that handles pregnancies is at least 30 minutes away, and even if we lived next door, we would not have gone there. We heard the stories and saw the news.

But here is the thing: Brielle was not originally planning to give birth at the hospital we were about to make our way to.

A Change of Plans: A Look Back

All of Brielle’s baby appointments were at Piedmont Atlanta and were good experiences. We took our CPR and Birth Classes there and enjoyed meeting most of the doctors. Can you guess the keyword?

Piedmont Atlanta is an exceptionally large practice, so they had multiple doctors that could potentially deliver our baby. Not ideal, but it made sense, so once we got over the discomfort of uncertainty and ambiguity, we locked in.

Brielle’s pregnancy had been perfect on all fronts. One of the doctors described it as “boring.” We were good with boring. I could only imagine what an un-boring pregnancy would entail. So, you could imagine our surprise when, at the last two appointments, the tone changed.

What began as a remarkably benign pregnancy journey had become, overnight, risky. Piedmont said their practice did not believe in going past forty weeks, so because we were encroaching on their timeline, suddenly the conversation became: “When do you want to schedule your induction?”

Uh, we don’t… The plan was always for Brielle to have Saige naturally.

The 38th-week appointment applied pressure, but the 39th week was the doozy. The doctor said that we have a big baby and because of the circumference of her stomach, there was a chance that she could have big shoulders which could cause shoulder dystocia. Her shoulders at some point could be too big to navigate the birth canal, which would leave Saige and Brielle in a tough spot that could require significant medical intervention—such as breaking Saige’s shoulders—which could leave permanent nerve damage.

We asked why this risk was not mentioned earlier. We have been here every week and there was no word about a big baby or shoulder dystocia until today.

Here was my issue: we respect the doctors’ medical expertise and opinions. We appreciate them letting us know we could have a big baby with big shoulders. That was not the issue. For us, it was the tone and tenor of the conversation, and the solutions presented for dealing with what could be a problem.

What if our baby in fact had big shoulders? Is breaking them the only option? Was there no middle ground? There had to be. A quick search revealed there were absolutely interventions for larger shoulders that resulted in non-broken babies. My challenge with that doctor was that those options were not discussed, just the worst-case scenario. And if this was such a concern, why not induce Brielle today instead of scheduling after the 4th of July holiday, when you admitted you were on call?

It was not adding up in my mind, and I could see it on my wife’s face; she was a moment away from letting the doctor know what was happening in hers.

The Final Decision: A Look Back

We left that appointment feeling dejected. Our moms were in town helping us get ready for Saige’s arrival, and I am sure they wondered what happened. We decided to have lunch at Moe’s after the appointment, and the ride there was quiet and tense. Brielle did not want to talk at the time, but by the time we got to the restaurant, she opened up a little bit more about what the doctor said and how she was feeling.

Spirits had lifted a bit by the time we finished eating. Food solves a lot of issues. But Brielle and I still had an important one to discuss: Did she still feel comfortable giving birth at Piedmont Atlanta?

After some discussion and weighing the pros and cons, the answer was no. I supported her decision. It was our decision.

Jet’aime and our other assigned doula were in full support. Actually, they preferred we switch and recommended some practices a couple of months earlier at one of their birthing classes. At that time, we were enjoying our experience at Piedmont, so we did not feel there was a need. But now we did, and Brielle was due to give birth in a few days.

Our doulas let us know that the practice would accept us as long as they received Brielle’s file. She didn’t need an appointment yet; once it was scheduled, she could give birth there under their care.

This felt like an oasis in the desert, and honestly, we did not have anywhere else to turn, so Brielle called their practice, and the file transfer started. It was settled. We would not be giving birth at Piedmont.

But now that question remained: Where would we be giving birth? We knew where physically, but what was this practice like? Would they have any reservations with Brielle being so far along in pregnancy? How would they react and receive us?

We were assured that everything would be fine; this practice regularly handles such cases and is known for its compassionate care of new mothers. Our doulas would accompany us to the hospital and help us navigate the conversation. A note of advice: consider hiring a doula. Ours provided invaluable support and guidance. Without one, there would have been far more uncertainty during Brielle’s labor and delivery.

Heading to the Hospital: Monday Evening

The contractions were increasing at this point, and we were loading up our rental Hyundai Palisade to head to a hotel closer to the hospital. Our doula suggested we could labor at the hotel. This seemed reasonable and a great intermediary solution that would save us a more intense car ride if Brielle were further along in labor.

We just needed to get six adults, one of them pregnant, to the hotel; and make sure everybody had rooms! Not a problem. Finally, something I felt like I could control.

The contractions picked up soon after we arrived at the hotel that evening. We were in the room for maybe two hours before Brielle decided the pain was too much and that it was time to go to the hospital. She was experiencing most of the discomfort in her back, and everyone we mentioned this to was extremely empathetic because back labor seemed to be more intense and less consolable than labor that happens in front.

Brielle was now on her second calendar day of this agony, and I just wanted relief for my wife. We let our parents know we were heading to the hospital, and Brielle’s parents decided to join us. We picked the right hotel because the hospital was less than five minutes away. It was a short drive for me, but for Brielle, I imagine it felt like forever.

We arrived in the parking lot, and the closest available spot was accessible parking. Father, forgive me, because I know exactly what I am doing.

Triage and Uncertainty: Early Tuesday Morning – July 8th

We got Brielle into the hospital and her mother said she would park the car. You remember when I said we switched practices in Brielle’s 39th week of pregnancy? Well, here we are, and we had no idea where we were going or who we should be seeing. All we knew was that our doulas said we should come here, and they would be empathetic.

The next few moments proved to be some of the most unempathetic of my life. Also, our assigned doula was not with us. Not sure why, but I could not worry about that in the moment. We were trying to explain to the front desk employee what was going on without saying we were told to come here.

“Hi, we want to deliver our baby here.”

“Have you seen anyone at our practice before?”

“No.”

She looks around. “Do we have your files?”

“We called and they were in the process of being transferred over.”

She looks around from the front desk to another nurse. “What do you want me to do?”

The nurse’s face said it all. “I know what we were supposed to do but it’s your call.”

“We can’t admit you to this practice. You will need to see the hospitalist.”

“Let’s get you checked into the triage room.”

“Okay, sure.”

I just wanted to get somewhere, anywhere to get my wife some relief, and if that was in the hands of a hospitalist, so be it. My wife went into triage and changed into a gown. Finally! I am sure my blood pressure went down just a little.

This feels like what I have seen on television. A nurse came in and started connecting her to the monitors. We could see her and the baby’s heartbeats. We also had visibility to when the contractions were coming and their intensity. Some were literally off the charts. My wife was going through it, but she was handling it like a champion.

Okay, awesome, what now? I know this is not where we deliver the baby, so where is that? How far is she dilated? When will the baby be here, and what the heck is a hospitalist?

To answer the dilation question, Brielle was dilated to one. As in one centimeter. Dilation is measured in centimeters, from zero to ten. You could not have paid me to believe she was only at one with the amount of pain she was in, but you remember what I said about back labor. It does not care. It just hurts.

Next question, the hospitalist. The nurse told us that a hospitalist was a general OB-GYN who was assigned to the hospital but not to the practice we would have preferred to be seen by. But at this point, you get what you get.

And boy, we got him. The hospitalist walked in; nothing immediately off-putting. He was a middle-aged man with a positive disposition. His most pressing question was why we were there, and we explained what we dealt with at our previous practice, and he was empathetic.

In so many words, he told us we would not be having the baby “soon,” so it would be better if we went home and came back later when Brielle was further along. We were fine with that, but Brielle needed something for the pain. She was prescribed Nubain, which was advised by Jet’aime.

Eventually, we discovered our doula would not be joining us at the hospital at this time. But in an interesting twist of all things working together, a different doula who we interviewed at the beginning of this process did show up to support us after a call from Jet’aime.

At first, it might have seemed awkward, but truly, it was not. She remained remarkably supportive not only in that moment, but throughout the rest of the morning. A note: not every doula is the right fit for every mother, so if you are considering hiring one (as I recommend), take time to ensure they share your beliefs and values, and are an excellent overall match.

After Brielle received the Nubain, she felt better. Still, some discomfort, but better. She was discharged and we made our way back to the hotel to try to get some rest, which to that point was non-existent.

Being told you do not have to go home, but you cannot stay here was deflating. Even though the moment was steeped in disappointment, I was mindful to maintain a positive disposition for my wife. My chief goal was to ensure she felt supported and that I had it all under control. In the face of adversity, I kept my head and spirits high. We would be okay.

Our substitute doula followed us back to the hotel. She waited in the lobby while we slept, which was probably a couple of hours. A gesture we paid for, but it still meant a lot to my wife and me.

Preparing to Be Present

One of my biggest fears during Brielle’s pregnancy was that I would not actually speak up when it mattered. I worried I might defer too much to the experts in the room. That I would second-guess my instincts. Or worse, stay quiet when something felt off.

Those fears were real. But like most fear, they did not come true. When the moments came, I spoke. And just as importantly, I made room for Brielle to speak for herself.

One thing I learned early is that urgency and importance are not always the same thing. Some situations really are urgent. Many are not. Especially in a normal pregnancy, there is often time to pause, ask questions, and think. Do not let your partner get put on a twenty-four second shot clock just because people are moving fast. This is not a game.

Here are seven things I did to prepare myself for labor and delivery. Not perfectly. Just intentionally.

1. I attended birthing classes with Brielle so we could learn together and be on the same page about what labor might look like and what decisions could come up.
2. I read The Expectant Father by Armin A. Brott and Jennifer Ash. It was one of the most helpful resources I found. Much of what we learned in class was already in that book. I even recommended it to our doulas as a helpful resource for fathers. I do not know the authors and I do not get anything for sharing it. Just a beggar showing other beggars where the bread is.
   https://www.amazon.com/Expectant-Father-Ultimate-Dads-Be/dp/0789214040
3. I talked with other fathers who were active and present in their homes. I wanted to hear what surprised them, what they struggled with, and what they wished they had known earlier.
4. Early in the pregnancy, I stepped down from my executive role at our church, a role I had served in for over two years. That was not an easy decision, but it was a clear one. I wanted to be available for Brielle without divided attention or competing responsibilities.
5. I stayed physically active leading up to the pregnancy and kept moving throughout it. That mattered more than I realized at the time. Men play a role in placental health, and staying active gave my stress somewhere to go while helping me stay grounded mentally and emotionally.
6. I stayed in therapy and kept my regular rhythm. Having space to process fear, pressure, and responsibility helped me show up more steadily.
7. I prayed often and intentionally, not only in moments of anxiety but as a daily practice. I also fasted for about three months leading up to the due date, beginning a Daniel Fast shortly after Easter and continuing until we arrived at the hospital.

None of this made me perfect. None of it made me fearless. But all of it helped me be present. And in the end, that was the goal, to be there for my wife in the way she needed.

Back Home and Return to Hospital: Tuesday Afternoon

Before we checked out, the doula team thought that Brielle was probably dehydrated. So, on the way home we stopped to get an IV from an IV clinic. Long story short, they could not service Brielle because she was pregnant and needed a note from her doctor. We were in between practices, so she didn’t have one.

After about an hour, we left and made our way home. Jet’aime arranged for a traveling nurse who administered IVs to meet us at the house for Brielle to receive some fluids.

While the IV nurse was at our home back in South Fulton, I was finally able to get some sleep. My parents and in-laws were encouraging it. For some reason, they think I’m always on the go, and this may be true, but who else was going to do it?

It was short-lived because Brielle’s contractions were ramping up again. I do not know how much pain relief the IV provided, but I am glad we got her hydrated because little did we know, we still had a long way to go before Saige’s arrival. A long way. And that would start with a drive back to the hospital that was on the literal other side of Atlanta.

This time we did not have a hotel to take reprieve because, you cannot make this up, Beyoncé was in town… The whole weekend… Performing not one, not two, not three, but four shows! Rooms cost an arm and a leg, and our parents already shelled out money for rooms they did not use. We did not want to make the same mistake twice.

Our fathers decided to stay at the house this time, and I did not blame them because we were all tired. So, Brielle, our moms, and I piled in the SUV again and made our way back up to the hospital with our assigned doula following closely behind.

It is Wednesday afternoon in Atlanta, so of course there would be traffic. The real question was how much? On I-285, it is a crapshoot and this time we hit a seven out the gate because we were rolling. I am sure Brielle felt differently. We made it to the hospital in about 45 minutes. Once again, made our way through their facility to the check-in desk.

You may wonder why we were back here. I was asking myself the same question. However, earlier that day, Brielle received communication from the practice her paperwork was accepted. It was communicated that this was all we needed for Brielle to deliver our baby there.

Maybe at one point it was, but that was no longer their policy. This time they doubled down on the “What are you doing here?” This was probably the most uncomfortable part of this entire labor & delivery process, but that does not mean much coming from me because I didn’t have to push out a baby.

The nurse at the desk was visibly annoyed. We arrived during a shift change, so it was a full house of scrubs who were exchanging emoji-like eyes while we explained that Brielle was a patient of the practice. My assumption was word had gotten out, or this happens frequently enough that the staff knows what the outcome will be.

Either way, the midwife told us that the practice would not be able to see us, and we would need to be seen by the hospitalist, and we were escorted back to triage again.

Twice over we have arrived at this desk after affirmation that we would be accepted by this practice, and twice over we were told we would not be. That was frustrating because if I knew this would be the drill, I would have encouraged Brielle to stay at Piedmont Atlanta. In that moment, I felt like I was letting my wife down. This was not happening.

We were back in triage and Brielle was back in her gown. A different nurse came in this time. Hooked Brielle back up to the monitors. There she is! My baby girl’s heartbeat next to the contraction tracker. It was time to lock in. I needed to get my thoughts about the misinformation we received and the front desk interactions out of my head.

My main priority was to ensure Brielle felt supported, and the best way I could do that in this moment was… to provide counter-pressure for these contractions… three, two, one… squeeze!

Mid-contraction, the hospitalist walked in, a woman this time. She seemed, no pun intended, less hospitable than the male hospitalist we encountered yesterday. She began to perform a cervical check. Sensing the inexplicable tension, Brielle attempted to break the ice with a little joke.

Mid-check, Brielle quips, “If little girls knew what you would have to go through to have a baby, there would be less teenage pregnancies.”

Everyone in the room laughed. The nurse, our doula, myself, Brielle; but not the doctor. Whatever, we were here to have a baby, not to win Showtime at the Apollo. We just wanted to know how close we were to meeting our baby girl.

She had to be dilated to five… six, surely. I could not have imagined it being anything less.

The hospitalist said dryly but confidently, “Two. Maybe… two and a half.”

I think to myself, Wait, with all this discomfort and pain. TWO! Only one more than yesterday? Brielle’s joke was not the only one being told because this was unbelievable.

The doctor asked Brielle a little more about our situation and why we were here. Brielle told her what we told the other hospitalist previously. This one seemed less empathetic. We were not expecting her response, but in so many words, she said: “Go back to Piedmont.”

Turns out, it was probably the Holy Spirit speaking through her.

She mentioned what we were doing was risky because this hospital does not know us. They do not know our story or what was going on with the baby.

Her professional opinion was for us to go back to our practice. She also would not prescribe any additional pain relief for Brielle. Then, just like that, she left the room.

The Right Decision: Wednesday Afternoon – July 9th

Brielle and I were both upset. She was in labor, not active labor, but the baby was coming soon; and it seemed like we did not have a place to deliver her.

We called Jet’aime to explain what was going on, concerned that they were denying us care, which they cannot do if she was in active labor. But at two centimeters, she was not.

After we got off the phone, Brielle and I had a moment to discuss, and I stated we need to go back to Piedmont because I did not want her to deliver her baby at a hospital that does not want to deliver her baby. Ultimately, I left the decision to her.

There is a quote I first heard spoken by the motivational speaker Eric Thomas: “Go where you are celebrated, not where you are tolerated.” At best, even if we received care, I felt we would only be tolerated at this hospital, and that Brielle would be treated more like a vagabond than a welcomed guest. That did not sit well with my spirit at all. I was extremely uneasy.

She was torn in between the two not-ideal options. By this time, our assigned doula came into the room and began to inform us of our rights, and that a hospital cannot deny care. I replied something to the effect of: they just did, and I do not want Brielle to deliver in a space that does not want her.

When the nurse came back in the room, her and our doula began to have a conversation. Our doula asked if there was another hospitalist that could deliver our baby because we were not comfortable with the one we just met.

The nurse stated there was no other option; it is a small practice and hospital. She was very kind and thorough in her response. I think our doula still wanted to press in and deliver the baby here because she did not care for our other practice. I believe she felt we were heading to a road of inductions, and the baby would possibly be at risk.

Maybe, but I felt the baby was at more risk in an unfamiliar practice that had stated in so many words that they don’t want to deliver her. The reason we were there in the first place was to deliver our baby with the midwives, and that was not an option. So, we were left with: Brielle give birth in an unfamiliar practice or one that is familiar.

Even though I did not see eye to eye on every detail with our doulas, I am confident they always prioritized Brielle’s well-being. I would happily hire them again. Without question, we’ll return to Full Bloom Birthing if Brielle is expecting in the future.

After a little back and forth, Brielle decided for her original practice. I know she took my words to heart. You could not get me out of the hospital quick enough. I do not even know if we were properly discharged. We were back in our Palisade blasting back toward the City of Atlanta. Deep down inside, I did not want my baby born in Roswell anyway. No offense.

Return to Piedmont: Wednesday Evening

After arriving at Piedmont Atlanta safely, we knew where to go because we took a tour of the Labor & Delivery Unit during a birth class. We navigated the corridors and arrived at the intercom, pushed the button, let them know my wife was in labor.

The door buzzed open. We walked to another door and another button, and we were buzzed in. I guided Brielle as she waddled around the corner, and in that moment while walking in, a new mother with a new baby was rolling out. That would soon be us, I thought. Maybe by the end of the night!

Brielle immediately began to cry. I was not sure if it was the contractions, the new mother, or just complete exhaustion from the last few days. Probably all three and more. As we walked up to the counter, the nurses noticed a very pregnant woman bawling very pregnant tears and they rushed into action.

Those amazing women rushed from all corners of the lobby asking if my wife was okay, what did she need, did she want to sit? They had her sit in their office chair and whisked her out of my sight down the hallway. All the while, I was left to handle the paperwork at the front desk.

Can I just tell you; this was the first time this entire week that I experienced true peace. The first time I felt like we were exactly where we were supposed to be.

I say that to say this: if you are ever questioning what and where your next step should be – follow the peace. The peace of God will go before you. Sometimes, it may not feel like the logical choice, but I promise you, if the presence of God is there, you should be there, too. You will not regret it.

My wife was taken to Labor & Delivery Room 10. After I finished the paperwork, it was a short walk over. This was her permanent room. She did not need to get triaged. The room was large, think small hotel room. It had all the normal hospital room stuff, but it also had a small couch. It was well lit, and the bathroom was very clean. This all seemed to be in stark contrast from the hospital we just left.

I cannot speak to what their L&D rooms were like, and I’m sure they were fine, we just never got a chance to see them.

Active Labor: Wednesday Evening

The nurses got Brielle into her gown and into the bed about the same time I made it into the room. They were talking her through the logistics of the stay and the outfitting of the room. I do not know if Brielle heard anything they were saying because she was in so much pain.

Our driving force for coming back to Piedmont was to deal with her discomfort as quickly as possible. She asked for something to help her cope, and eventually they landed on Fentanyl.

FENTANYL? Yes, Fentanyl. I know most people cringe when they hear the name because of its reputation in the streets, but the nurse assured us this dose was safe and there would be no abnormal adverse side effects. Obviously, no drug is perfect, but this was safe enough for a pregnant woman to take. Reluctantly she accepted and a brief time later the drug was administered via IV.

Oh, I need to back up a step because getting the IV in her hand was an obstacle in and of itself. After we were settled in the room, Brielle asked if I could go and get the bags from the truck. By the time I got back in the room, I saw what I perceived to be a flustered nurse searching for a fleeing nerve. Brielle did not look particularly bothered, but I could see the frustration rising in her mother.

By my guesstimate, the poor nurse had one more time to get it wrong… and I was correct. Brielle’s mother let the nurse know in the way that only a mother could that she should get somebody else to do it. The nurse obliged; she said that she had a two-poke rule.

A new nurse was tagged in and got the IV administered in Brielle’s hand instead of her arm. Soon the fluids and medicine were flowing. Brielle was comfortable for the first time in days. Thank God!

Next was the important task of making the room comfortable for Brielle. We began to unpack the bags and get everything situated: blankets, speaker, an assortment of snacks, Bibles, and anointing oil. All of which would come in handy.

Brielle’s entourage included myself, of course, her mother, my mother, and her doula. Honestly, I did not think hospitals allowed all those people in the room, but four was the max. Our accommodations were modest; a loveseat-sized couch, a doctor’s stool, and a medicine ball. Two and a half seats for four butts, but we made it work.

We traded off on the small couch for naps and rest. I did not sleep much as I was tending to Brielle, so the limited seating did not make much of a difference to me.

Soon after, our Labor & Delivery Nurse came in the room. She introduced herself, a lovely young Black woman who was a mother of four herself. Yes, four. She began running tests and checked how far along Brielle was dilated: three and a half with a negative station. Station simply describes how far the baby has moved down the birth canal, with negative numbers meaning she is still high and zero meaning she is ready to descend.

Progress from the earlier hospital in just a couple of hours, but we still had a way to go with 10 being the goal. Our nurse let us know who the doctor was on duty, and to our dismay, it was one of the only doctors Brielle did not meet in her rotations through the team over the course of her pregnancy. For context, we met at least six doctors. We took it in stride because by this time we just wanted a safe delivery, healthy mom, and healthy baby.

Little did we know not seeing the doctor would not be an issue because by the end of her shift twelve hours or so later, Brielle was not close to giving birth. However, God knew what he was doing because the next doctor on duty was the doctor we wanted to deliver the baby after the initial rotations.

Our next L&D nurse was amazing, as well. She was an older Black woman that would be best described as your favorite aunt. Her OB-GYN also made her first appearance, Dr. M. They checked to see where Brielle was dilated: maybe five. Finally, active labor!

Dr. M asked Brielle a series of doctoral questions. We expected that. She presents stoic and said to us that she was an anxious doctor because she wants to get it right. She earned Brielle’s trust in her earlier appointment. She asked why we were at a different hospital and how we ended up back at this one, and Brielle was forthcoming.

Brielle talked through the series of events that led us to this moment and interaction, knowing that a part of that story was a criticism of one of Dr. M ’s peers and practice, but she trusted her and at this point, what else could she do? She was exhausted and putting lipstick on a pig would not make it any prettier. It was what it was.

Dr. M seemed to understand and reassured Brielle that she would respect her decisions and autonomy. Brielle assured Dr. M she would consider her recommendations, but she just needed time to make the decision. They agreed.

Dr. M asked how Brielle felt about interventions to speed this up knowing that Brielle had been in labor for about four days at this point. Brielle stated she would like to go as long as possible on her own, but she would consider if needed.

Dr. M smiled, nodded, and exited the room. She was at the beginning of her 24-hour shift so we were all confident that she would be delivering our baby.

All good things must come to an end. Eventually, the Fentanyl wore off. The pain ratcheted back up. Brielle reluctantly decided to get an epidural. I heard so many conversations about natural births versus, I guess, what some would consider “un-natural,” and I get both arguments, and I had thoughts about my thoughts.

However, my stance as a husband and soon-to-be father was this: stay out of women’s business. In addition, I offered my unwavering support to whatever Brielle felt was right for this pregnancy and her body. I just wanted her to have all the context she needed to make an informed decision.

We attended childbirth classes with the hospital. We attended childbirth classes with our doulas. We read the books, listened to the doctors, influencers, randoms with opinions; and I was tired of it all so I can only imagine what Brielle was thinking and feeling.

When she finally decided to get the epidural, I said, “Okay.”

Deep down inside, I did feel some relief because my wife would be getting her own. We were now on day three of labor, back labor, and in none of those conversations did anyone say my wife would be in labor this long. Give her anything she needs to get this baby out.

The doctor who inserted the catheter treated Brielle with kindness and care. Since only one person was allowed in the room during the procedure, Brielle and I were able to have a rare moment alone together. I reassured her about how well she was handling everything and expressed how proud I was of her. As we talked, I watched as the largest needle I had ever seen carefully guided into my wife’s spine. Romantic!

The epidural worked as intended. For me, it felt like it lasted forever – so I could only imagine how long it seemed for Brielle. We were about to meet our baby girl, though exactly when remained uncertain. Only God and Saige had that knowledge; the rest of us focused on supporting Brielle through her journey.

 

Anticipation and Preparation: Thursday Evening – July 10th

The L&D nurse and our doula tried what felt like every position we learned in birthing class on Brielle. At one point she was laying on her back, an hour later she was on her side, an hour after that – her other side, an hour after that – kneeling. The epidural made it difficult for her to stand, so she could not labor in any position that required her to be on two feet. One was fine, and they tried that.

Enter Dr. M at around 6 PM. They checked her dilation again and more progress: seven and a half, maybe eight. Great! More progress, I thought.

However, the baby was still at a negative station meaning she was not moving down the birth canal. The reason being was that Brielle’s water had not yet broken.

We did not get that made-for-TV moment with a puddle of fluid lying on the floor. Brielle got straight to it; she only had pain and pressure as her indicator.

Dr. M presented some options: Pitocin, breaking her amniotic sac, or both. Once again, this was all Brielle’s decision. I would support her whichever way she leaned.

Dr. M also presented the risks. Because the baby was not making movement and Brielle could not eat because of the epidural, she was concerned that Brielle would not have the energy to finish pushing when she entered the birthing phase of delivery. That could lead to a host of complications with all roads leading to a cesarean section, which she obviously did not want.

Brielle stated clearly that she wanted to continue her labor with no added interventions at this time.

Dr. M unbotheredly said, “Okay!” She then said she would be back to check on Brielle in about four hours and if Brielle had not progressed, she would need to consider the interventions.

We knew we were getting close, and that Saige would be here soon. The next few hours included more position changes. Also, the energy was shifting in the room from relaxed and calm to intentional and focused.

The best way I can explain it, and I know this will not resonate with everyone, but you know how you used to feel on your game day, whether it be volleyball, softball, basketball, etc.? That palpable excitement that you can feel that you cannot do anything about yet. You are still in school going from class to class thinking about how the evening would play out. Your mind is not fully committed to the event because you still had tests to take, but you wish you were in the locker room putting on your uniform.

The moment felt like we were about to run out of the locker room. I could have done 100 pushups straight, but that would not have been beneficial to my wife’s needs. So, you hold it in and channel that energy to ensuring she is comfortable and has everything that she needs.

As the evening progressed, we needed to coordinate our fathers getting back to the hospital because they wanted to be present for the birth of their granddaughter. Our friends Julius and Daeja deserve all the good things for taxiing our parents all around the City of Atlanta and surrounding areas during this gauntlet of a week. They made themselves available to be Uber drivers whenever our parents needed a Lyft. Julius even spent the night at the house one evening while we were at the hospital. I am so very thankful for their friendship.

After a few text messages, our dads appeared at the hospital in about an hour. They offered their support to their daughter and daughter-in-law. They had been through this process before with their own children, so they were not new to this. I can only imagine what they were feeling because they presented calm, other than a few tears from Mr. Benbow.

After a short conversation with Brielle, they retired to the makeshift waiting room that was formerly a staff break room because the real waiting room was under renovation. That makeshift room was not comfortable, so shoutout to our dads for hanging out for what amounted to be a work shift because, you guessed it, we still had a way to go.

Knock-knock! We knew who it was and what it was. Dr. M walked into the room. By now, we knew the drill. She checked Brielle’s dilation, and would you look at that, nine! Progress on a goal of ten, but Saige’s position or station had not changed and that was because the amniotic sac was still in the way.

It had not broken on its own after four days of labor. Dr. M presented the intervention options again; break the sac and Pitocin, but this time we did not get a sense it was a question or a negotiation. More like pick one, preferably both, if not I will prep for a C-section because this baby will be here before my shift is over.

Once again, not in an aggressive way, but in a “this is the best course of action in my medical opinion because you have been in labor for four days. You have not eaten in over 24 hours because of the epidural, and you are simply working on fumes” sort of way.

If we do not give your body a little help, I am afraid you won’t be able to push that baby out and that would leave us in a more complicated and dangerous situation for you and the baby than if you just chose a C-section.

Sensing the apprehension in my wife with her options, I asked Dr. M what the process was of breaking the amniotic sac, understanding that this would be the intervention that would not introduce another chemical into my wife’s body and that the sac typically breaks anyway.

She responded with “Great question” and explained the sterile instrument and process saying that it was safe and would not at all harm the baby. I am glad I asked because the context of the amniotic sac breaking via intervention was accidentally from an overly aggressive doctor or nurse’s nail that harmed the baby. This would not be that.

We knew the statistics. How Black women are disproportionately affected by birthing malpractices, how their voices are not heard, and the countless viable horror stories of unfavorable birth outcomes for the mother and baby. We heard it all and we did not want Brielle or our baby to be the next cautionary tale.

Our doulas were fantastic partners from the beginning. We were equipped with the right info, we knew our rights, we did not sign anything without a thorough read. For example, we were comfortable with students and apprentices being at our visits and shadowing our doctors, but when it came to Labor & Delivery, we said no. Nothing against the students. Nor did it have anything to do with privacy. We simply wanted the A-team. They could get their college credit with another family.

We also said no to hospital photography and videography in the labor & delivery room. Some of the paperwork you sign does not present these as options you can decline, but after a quick conversation with Jet’aime, we knew we could just cross that part out to signify that we did not agree; and our doctors simply replied with, “Okay.” No discussion.

You have rights as a mother that legally must be honored.

We learned much of this from the team at Full Bloom, as well as our options for medical interventions. It was my opinion they had a bend towards natural birth, meaning no interventions at all, but they always said do what is best for the mom. They recommended which painkillers to use and the ones to avoid. They consulted us on the benchmarks Brielle should hit before considering certain interventions. They coached us on when to head to the hospital and what we should expect when we got there.

They were and still are incredibly supportive of my wife. Me, too. I cultivated my questions to Dr. M through intentional practice with our doulas.

Brielle asked for a few minutes to decide between her options and Dr. M once again replied, “Okay!” She would be back in about ten.

Brielle and I talked through her options with our team. Once again, Brielle’s body, Brielle’s decision. I let her share her thoughts first, and she understood everything Dr. M was saying and she believed it, she was just concerned about the baby. I was with her on that.

Then I offered a thought: “You are so close babe, and you’ve done so well. I do believe that breaking the bag makes sense if that’s what’s stopping her from coming down. You’ve done everything right; this will just help you across the finish line.”

Everybody else in the room said they agreed, and that was that. Brielle informed Dr. M that she was in favor of breaking the bag, but not the Pitocin, yet.

Dr. M said, “Okay!” and walked out. She was back in a few moments later with a long pointy stick. I am sure it has a technical name, but we are thousands of words into this story, and I do not feel like Googling it. It was a simple procedure, and a few seconds later Brielle’s “water broke.” She said it felt warm. Hardly like the movies but it did signify the girl was on her way.

Also, unlike the movies, I did not need to rush my wife to the hospital because we were already there. Like our doulas informed us, you do not need to head to the hospital that early anyway. My fight through Atlanta traffic had already happened. I turned a Hyundai into a Hellcat. My battle now was for my flesh and blood, and it was against Powers and Principalities. It was time to lock in. I knew the hour was near and this was not the time to be caught sleeping.

This is starting to sound real Biblical, huh? Wait until I get to the part where we break out the oil, but first I needed to shower.

It was now late Thursday evening. We arrived Wednesday evening. I could give you an estimate of the last time I showered, but it would not be correct. The last time I remember taking a shower was Tuesday morning. There may have been another one in there, but either way, I was well overdue. We got a break in the action from visitors and doctors, so I decided to hop in the hospital shower that gave hospital shower. I was in and out in five minutes, but I felt like a new man in my water-logged flip flops.

Now, it was time to break out the oil!

We turned on Brielle’s playlist on the Bluetooth speaker. We opened that bottle of anointing oil and started praying. This is a non-comprehensive list of everything that I touched with oil: the door, the windows, the machinery, the monitors, the doctor’s stool, the couch, myself, and Brielle.

Frankincense, myrrh, and an assorted aroma of spices filled the air. We were shifting the atmosphere not only with our touch, but with the fruit of our lips. Even now while writing this I feel the power of the Spirit of the Living God moving in me. We prayed and spoke life into that room, protection over Brielle and for a birth outcome that involved a healthy mom and baby. I sought the Lord, and he heard, and he answered.

In the middle of our worship, knock-knock, a nurse walked in the room, but not our Labor & Delivery nurse. She had a familiar face, but it took me a half a second to place it. Maia!

Who is Maia? She is our literal next-door neighbor. Right next door, we share a yard, and they had us over for dinner a few months prior.

We were not expecting her because she told us she would be moving to part-time, but in the back of my mind, I wondered if we would see her at any time during our stay, and there she was, in Brielle’s L&D Room.

She told us she would prepare the warming bed for us, just in case we needed it, but that we probably wouldn’t. She and Brielle talked for a bit then exited the room. In that moment, I felt so much peace about what God was doing and who God was using.

One of those people was our third, yes third, L&D Nurse during Brielle’s stay, MT. She was fantastic with Brielle from the moment she came on duty. She worked very well with our doula in keeping Brielle comfortable and maneuvering her into positions that could expedite the birthing process. She even snuck Brielle a few icy cups because she was not supposed to have any food or drink. MT, we appreciate you! This paragraph is for you!

The Push: Early Friday Morning – July 11th

Cue Dr. M, you knew she was coming. It was now about midnight, and she checked where Brielle was and where the baby was located.

Ten! Brielle was fully dilated!

The baby still had not moved and was at a negative station. We all were a little bummed that Saige was still holding tight, literally. Dr. M suggested it was time to try Pitocin and Brielle accepted her suggestion. About 15 minutes later, the medicine was administered via IV.

Now we wait.

We waited so long, I fell asleep. Honestly, it was not that long, I was just physically exhausted and everybody in the room could see I was running on fumes. I just knew I wanted to be in it with Brielle, but Brielle encouraged me to get some rest and let me know she was fine. So, I sat down on that little couch and put my feet up on that medicine ball. It was all a dream.

“Sheldon, it’s time!”

Time for what? Am I still dreaming? Why is everyone gathered around the bed? What is happening?

“Oh, it’s time time!”

I guess the Pitocin worked! I do not know what time I fell asleep, but it felt like a blink. It was now about five in the morning on Friday, July 11th. I ran over to the bed and stood at Brielle’s head. MT was at the other end of the bed coaching Brielle through her breathing and pushing.

Oh, this is really happening! I was freaking out on the inside, but I did a respectable job of not showing it. After all, this was not about me. Proverbs 24:10 says, “If you faint in the day of adversity, your strength is small.” I was not going to be passing out today.

The machines sounded like they were working overtime. The steady heart rate pulse that filled the room the last few days now sounded like it was running a marathon. My baby was working hard. Brielle or Saige? Both!

“Come on Brielle, you got it girl! You are doing so well! Keep pushing! Come on, Reezy! Brielle’s mother exclaimed.

Every person in the room was cheering my wife on through this process. It was like she was running down the homestretch of a track and field event, and the cheers of her supporters were carrying her across the finish line.

This went on for about thirty minutes, then suddenly the door swung open making way for at least half a dozen people—felt like more—including Dr. M. Her demeanor and disposition were different. There were no smiles. No questions. She sat down on that little metal stool and took over.

The hospital staff revolved around her. Her voice became the most prominent. Well, second to Brielle’s because she was delivering a baby!

There was a funny moment during the delivery when Brielle said she was hot. I began to look for her water cup. She was not in the position to drink, so she said, “Give me the ice!”

I take some ice out of the cup and try to give it to her and she yelled, “JUST POUR IT IN MY MOUTH!”

And I dumped that whole cup of ice and water on her face and chest out of nervousness! I thought I made a mistake, but she replied, “THANK YOU!”

Then being the caring individual she is, she apologized for yelling at me. The whole room replied including myself: you do not have to apologize; you are pushing out a baby! We still laugh about that to this day.

Saige’s Arrival: Friday Morning

A brief time later, our little princess began her grand entrance, and just like royalty, she led with her crown. Dr. M exclaims she can see the baby’s scalp and sure enough, there was hair down there, a lot of it! Thank God she will not be coming out looking like her dad. I am bald.

“Okay, push baby! You are so close.”

With every exhale, more of our child was seen. The baby who hid her face on every single ultrasound, which forced the practice to schedule more, would finally be revealed.

“Push Brielle!”

“Yeah!!!” Then I heard Brielle yell! “Don’t do that!”

Then our doula echoed her sentiments to the doctor. Dr. M was trying to aid the baby’s head out and it was causing Brielle extreme discomfort, so that was the end of that. Once again, doulas are important.

Suddenly, a whole head! Oh my… then Dr. M told Brielle to push one last time and while she was pushing, Dr. M did this twist and pull situation with the baby, and she was out!

Cheers from the crowd!

Then silence… Saige was not crying. WHY ARE YOU NOT CRYING? Does that only happen in the movies? Wait, what is happening?

She was moving, but not a lot, but her breathing appeared labored like she was trying to cough, but even that was not working. She was also a little purple, but I did not know if that was because she just came down a birth canal. God, what is happening? I was trying to read the room, and their team was not giving much; and my baby was not either.

Then finally Dr. M said she swallowed meconium at some point during the birthing process, and it was clogging her airways. Meconium is the baby’s first stool, and it is supposed to happen after they are born. I guess she had to go! They would need to get it out.

They called for another team of nurses, and soon another half dozen people came into the room, and they surrounded the warming bed that Maia said we probably would not need. We did. While we were waiting on that team, the baby was placed on Brielle’s chest for skin-to-skin. Saige was trying her best, but you could tell she was struggling.

A few moments later, she was pulled off Brielle and whisked away to the warming bed. The nurse asked me if I wanted to go with her. I said I am going to stay with my wife. She tore while delivering Saige, and I wanted to ensure they got the bleeding under control. I asked our mothers to go over to Saige’s bed.

After a moment, Brielle said she was fine and that I should go check on Saige. While Dr. M and the nurses were tending to Brielle, I positioned myself between the bed my daughter was laying in and the bed my wife was laying in. Both frantically being tended to by trained caring staff.

There was nothing I could do in the physical, so I did all I could: pray. This is the reason I know Brielle is my wife because when she looked at our mothers looking over Saige, she yelled across the room, “I don’t know what y’all doing, but y’all better be praying!”

I am sure they were but that turned the volume of those prayers up. I could not tell you the words I was saying in that moment except for one, “Jesus!”

Cough

“Jesus!”

Cough

“Jesus!”

Cough. Cough. Cry!

A joyful noise! Saige was crying. Our baby’s voice filled the room. Her airways were clearing out, and so was my anxiety. One thing I do know was that the name of Jesus is undefeated.

There is power in his name and when you call on it, something has to change. Chains have to break, walls have to fall, and babies have to cry.

This is your child, God. You knew her before you formed her in Brielle’s womb. You did not bring us all this way to leave us. Brielle did not carry this baby 41 weeks to be disappointed.

That would not be our story. That is all I knew. I am walking out this hospital with a healthy baby and healthy wife. The weapon formed, but God broke it.

After the Birth

There she was, Saige! Our beautiful baby girl with a beautiful head of hair. She was opening her eyes a little, moving some, transitioning in and out of sleep.

The nurse placed her back on Brielle’s chest, and Maia, who was now in the room, handed me a blue snot sucker. It was now my responsibility to keep getting the meconium out as it came up. All over it!

Brielle looked at Maia, and said, “Maia, is my baby going to be okay?”

Maia took Saige and did one last sanity check and said, “Yes, girl, she is going to be fine!”

Maia, you were an angel in all of this, thank you!

Watching Brielle hold our healthy child made the challenges of this week worth the effort. She was smiling from ear to ear proclaiming, “My baby! My baby!”

I could tell she was exhausted. After all, she just pushed out a whole human being. Then it was my time to hold Saige. Wait, I am not ready, what if I drop… Oh, you are handing her to… Oh, she is in my arms! Wow! Speechless.

About nine months ago we were standing in the bathroom of our condominium waiting on the results of the pregnancy test. Brielle cried tears of joy, and I stood in stunned amazement just smiling. Again, in this moment, I was doing the exact same thing, befuddled at what we had created.

She was so beautiful! Absolutely perfect! I know every parent says that about their child, and now I see why. I was staring at God’s handiwork, carefully crafted in His image. There was nothing more to say other than, “I love you.”

Just like that, the room was mostly clear. Our moms helped us get everything packed, and all the elements that were spread out a couple of hours ago were now neatly tucked away in three duffle bags ready to be transported to the postpartum unit.

Brielle and Saige were finally partaking in some meaningful skin-to-skin contact. We spent time together in the room for a couple more hours, not saying a whole lot, but relieved we made it to the other side of the mountain.

The first text I received was from one of the men from my church. I felt my phone buzz and saw the message but could not immediately respond as I was tending to Brielle. The timing was divine because I did not tell him we were at the hospital.

Some of his words read, “May you lead your family with a new confidence and follow the Father with a new hunger. May you experience new revelations, new victories, new opportunities, and new testimonies. I declare a higher level of wisdom, faith and obedience will be the product of what you have endured.”

Talk about perfect timing!

The wheelchair was ushered in the room around 7:30 AM. Brielle moved from the bed to the chair, and the baby was placed in her arms. It was time to roll, literally.

Goodbye L&D Room 10! We will never forget you and the space you made for us. We were in the room for less than 48 hours, but the stay felt longer. While you were not an all-inclusive resort, you were absolutely first class!

The peaceful journey down the hallway was diametrically opposed to the way up a couple days earlier. I thought maybe we would see a couple coming in like how we did, but there was no such interaction. No dad to reassure with a nod, or mom to see Brielle holding her baby on the way out reassuring that she would be soon to follow. That would have been too perfect a way to pay it forward. Ah well, to our new accommodations continued.

Postpartum Room: Friday

The postpartum unit was a short walk to the other side of the floor, and after a few minutes, we were in our new room that looked like a smaller layout of the L&D version. Admittedly, before childbirth classes, I just assumed the mother went home after the baby was born if she was healthy – maybe spend another day. What I did not know was that a mandatory minimum 48 hours was standard.

Convertible loveseat, we meet again, my old friend.

The nurses helped Brielle into the bed and gave her a rundown of what to expect which could be summed up as a visit every hour for the first 24 hours and every few hours for the next 24 to ensure Brielle and baby were healthy. My role in all this? Tend to Brielle and stare at the baby.

I was still a little afraid to pick her up. She was wrapped up like a little burrito, and I did not want to disturb her. Should I pick her up? Can I? She is my baby after all, but she is sleeping. I decided to just touch her. I mean they do say never wake a sleeping baby. Honestly, I was just afraid of hurting her and was not confident in my dad abilities yet.

If you are a new parent, those feelings are normal. Give yourself grace. You will not figure it all out in a day, week, month, or lifetime. So, it is fine sometimes to just do nothing because God is doing the rest.

Knock-knock! A host of nurses who came to get Saige’s measurements. They picked her up, unwrapped her swaddle, took off her hospital-issued onesie and diaper and placed her on the scale.

A nurse asked us how big we thought she was, and I replied, “About nine pounds.”

Brielle said, “About seven.”

The nurse looked at the scale and replied, “Oh, she is a big girl. Nine pounds and six ounces. That’s 99th percentile meaning she is larger than 99 percent of baby girls her age.”

So, Brielle had just given birth to one of the largest babies in the world. Now for her length: 19 inches! Also 99th percentile!

I was shocked! Not only at the sheer size of our child but the capability of Brielle’s body to deliver her safely. Now we know why Brielle was experiencing such intense back labor and why she did not find a lot of relief switching positions.

There was no running from Saige-asaurus. She took up every inch of real estate in Brielle’s womb, was way past her move-out date, and was not evicted without a fight.

Brielle was just as amazed as I was, but within a few minutes of the nurses leaving the room, she was asleep. She does not remember much from the first few hours in the room, but one memory she did have was when a nurse asked us if she could wash Saige’s hair. We opted against a full bath to protect the vernix (a protective coating), which Saige’s skin would naturally absorb within a couple of hours.

We agreed because it was a little gunky. About twenty minutes later, Saige rolled back in the room with fresh and smooth baby hair – a lot of it. The nurse then asked if we would want Saige to go down to the nursery while we got some rest.

So, Brielle and I agreed that wherever the baby went, at least one of us would go and because I was the one that did not push a baby out my body, it would be me. But here is the thing about plans, in the words of Mike Tyson, we all have one until we get punched in the mouth. That right hook came in the form of exhaustion, so Brielle was fine with the baby going down to the nursery without my supervision. I supported her decision.

The nurses held to their word that they would be in the room every hour for one reason or another. They would check Brielle’s vitals, check Saige’s vitals, ensure Brielle had everything she needs to use the bathroom (and father – your support will be needed, trust me), feed Saige, rub on Brielle’s stomach. Everything was where and how it was supposed to be. God was faithful through the entire stay.

After I got a little rest, I decided I would explore the unit. I walked by the nursery window to get a look at Saige. Just like the movies, the room was full of new humans. Mine was asleep among them.

At that moment, it was clear why the hospital’s identification protocols were so stringent because the babies looked remarkably similar. I can get how someone could get two confused. Brielle and I recently looked at Saige’s early photos and asked each other, “Whose baby is that?” She looks that different!

Another dad walked up while I was looking at Saige through the glass. We exchanged head nods but did not speak. He looked as tired as I felt. We did not need words to communicate that we were dads on duty.

We are a part of a new generation of fathers who are not only protectors but present. Our children not too far out of our sight, and we’re not too far out of theirs – when they open their eyes, of course.

Becoming a Father: Friday into Saturday – July 12th

When Saige and I were back in our room with her mom her eyes did just that, and we looked at each other for the first time. My wife and I made that little person. I could feel something shifting in me in that moment.

A sense of responsibility and commitment that would slowly alter how I view myself and how I interact with the world.

The feeling was very similar to the revelation that I had when Brielle and I married the previous year. It is not just you anymore, bucko. You are now husband and father. You are head of the household: the leader, coach, captain of the team.

My brain was rewiring in real-time and running code that I did not even know was there. But how do I learn how to be a father? Thankfully, I have notable examples of men in my life.

My own dad is a great loving father who raised me to become that man I am today. He instilled countless lessons in me. He showed me what it meant to raise a child and lead a home. I figured if I just did what he did, I would be in the 99th percentile of dads myself.

Another great example of a father in my life was my brother. He has raised three sons to manhood, my nephews. Can you believe I have been an uncle since I was two years old? Watching how he raised his boys left a lifelong imprint because while he was raising them, he was helping raise me.

Those are just my two closest examples of great fathers, and I do not need to think exceptionally long and hard for the rest.

Most importantly, I will defer to my Heavenly Father. Without him, I would not be here nor would my daughter. He knew her before I did. She belonged to Him before she belonged to us.

My prayer life had elevated in the months since my daughter’s birth. It is an increased sense of responsibility to stand in the gap for my daughter and represent God to her and her to God; and yes, I have already prayed for her marriage, children, and career. Never too early!

After about 24 hours in the postpartum unit and at least 24 different visits from hospital staff – not counting our parents, siblings, and friends – we were ready to go home. Brielle and I decided we would check out early if possible; and based on Brielle and the baby’s health, we were. We were supposed to check out Sunday, but we left on Saturday.

I packed and transported our belongings to the rental SUV, moved it down front, brought up the car seat, and asked the nurse if we had Saige in it properly. Funny thing was that because of liability reasons, nurses no longer show parents how to put a baby in a car seat.

As a compliance professional, I understood. So, if the hospital asks, the nurse did not show us the secret button in the front of the car seat that adjusts the straps, and she did not let us know that clasp should be at armpit height, and she did not mention anything about the car seat other than she cannot help with the car seat.

Going Home: Saturday afternoon

Saige was all situated in the seat and Brielle in the wheelchair. We navigated our way through the hospital corridors down to the car. Brielle captured the obligatory video of me carrying my daughter out of the hospital.

We popped Saige into the base, and Brielle positioned herself in the middle row next to her. We made our way over to I-285 back down to South Fulton after stopping at the Quik Trip on Howell Mill for gas. This was without a doubt the most nerve-wracking drive I had made since my first time driving a vehicle. Actually, I was more nervous getting Saige home.

Traffic was uneventful and we made it back without an Atlanta traffic horror story. We were welcomed home with love by our parents and pets.

The First Weeks

Our parents decided to extend their stay in Atlanta two weeks to help us get settled, so when it was all said and done, they were with us five weeks in total. It is a blessing for a grandchild to have all their grandparents, and even more of a blessing to have them all in one spot for that amount of time.

They were such a wonderful help in the weeks following Saige’s birth. They loved on Brielle and me, cooked for us, held Saige, and let her sleep with them many of those nights so we could get some rest. They gave us the best head start. We have plans for them to move to Atlanta. They may not, but we do.

We did not have a lot of family in Georgia, so having our parents here would be lovely. Could we move back to Michigan? But Saige would be cold, and we do not want Saige to be cold.

So, because of Saige, they are coming south. We could not ask for better parents, and Saige could not have better grandparents.

We knew eventually they would have to go tend to less important business because what could be more important than their granddaughter, firstborn granddaughter. Alas, this is the reality of life. Every beginning has an ending, but the memories will last forever. If they do not, I have them recorded here.

Brielle had twelve weeks of parental leave and I had six. I was able to break mine up into two-week increments. I decided to only take two weeks off initially with a week of PTO, so I was off three weeks in total.

I decided to use the other four weeks in October when Saige is about three months at the recommendation of another father. He said, “They have more to give you when they are that age. During the first few weeks, they mostly lay around.”

He was not wrong. The first few weeks were mostly sleeping, eating every two hours, and pooping. Saige was not a fussy baby. She only cried when she needed something, and boy, were we thankful for that because we had heard stories.

Brielle and Saige stayed home while I dropped our parents off at Hartsfield-Jackson for their 6 AM flight. Of course, they get there two hours early! We gave our hugs and said our goodbyes in front of the Departure doors.

About 15 minutes later I was back at home staring at our sleeping baby. After my wife and I got back in bed, I asked, “What do we do now?”

Saige cries.

“Hey baby! You’re okay! It’s okay! You don’t have to cry. We are here!”

Closing Reflection

Brielle, you were an absolute champion throughout this entire process. Can you believe what you did? You have built a whole human being from scratch and brought her into this world. From the moment we discovered your pregnancy, I knew you would be an exceptional mother. You were already a mother before you were officially one. You are a nurturer by heart. Saige is blessed to have you and so am I. Let’s raise this wise one together! I love you, and I will forever!

Saige, my daughter. You are the answer to years of prayers. You have already changed my life in your short time on this earth. I am looking forward to the lessons that we get to help each other learn and the stories we get to help each other write. You are purposed for greatness baby girl. Not to put too much pressure on your shoulders, but it is going to be big. Your parents will assist until you can hire a team. Even then, we will still be here.

To the expecting father, I wrote this with you in mind. Much of what we see on the internet is directed toward mothers, and rightfully so, because they are doing most of the work. They are carrying much of the burden. But that does not mean you are carrying none. Sometimes the world forgets that. Fathers need support too.

If this is your first child, you have never been here before. And if this is not your first, you probably remember wishing you had a little more support. Either way, dads want to be seen and heard. We need a place to vent, an outlet to recharge, and space to simply dump our thoughts. Fathers need fathers. We need our friends. We need help finding the right words for our wives. We need to know that we are doing a good job when the person we love most is suffering, and it is partly because of us. We need reassurance.

Your life is changing for the better, but that does not mean change is easy. So, dad, this writing is for you. This was not created to be a comprehensive guide through the birthing process. It is just one man’s story through his wife’s experience. Maybe you read something in here that resonates with yours. I hope you found this when you needed it.

I am not sure if I will ever find the right words to express our journey, but I will keep trying!

If you enjoyed this #LoveLetter, please comment below and share it with your network! That would mean the world to me. Every like, comment and share helps. Also, check out I Made You This Shirt! Thank you for your support!