As you already know if you know me, I have very late and very large babies. At least, that's how it was in the past. Going into this fourth pregnancy, I just accepted the fact that, while my official due date was April 14th, I wouldn't be having this baby until closer to the 28th. And my constant prayer this whole pregnancy was "please, please, please, let this baby be smaller than my last." I kept joking with people that I was hoping for a ten pound baby, an insane wish from most people, but a number that sounded like a relief to me, being truly afraid that I might end up with a twelve-pounder some day. Every night, amidst the prayers for a healthy pregnancy, an easy delivery, and no complications, I prayed for a smaller (and maybe an earlier) baby.
This time as my due date rolled around I felt more at peace with going late than I ever have. I completely wrote off the idea of having her before 41 weeks as impossible, and so didn't even pack the hospital bag till the night before my due date (when I finally decided I should just get it done). We didn't have the car seat in the car until that week either. My parents and family were all in CO at my cousin's wedding, and I was sure they would be back long before baby arrived. I didn't bother trying anything at all to get labor going. I even went to the play Pride and Prejudice at Bethany with Gwen on my due date! But that night I had strong and painful contractions most of the night. This hadn't happened with any of the other girls, and many times I wondered if somehow this was going to be labor, but they stayed inconsistent and eventually around 2:00 or 3:00 they died out completely. I chalked it up to a long day, and my midwife at my checkup the next day said I didn't look labor-y, and she assumed like me I had a week or more to go. She told me she'd be gone in Rochester the next morning starting around 5:00, and she had someone else on call just for that day, but said she didn't think I'd need her anyway. I laughed and said the girls had dentist appointments the next day anyway and that I was hoping we wouldn't have to reschedule them. Then I went home and fed my sourdough so I could make a double batch of bagels the next day. My dad joked that now that they were home, baby should come that day. Then that night I had a few more strong contractions, and told my mom that maybe just maybe I'd have to call her that night, and went to bed, dreading a night of bad sleep and false labor yet again.
But sure enough, miraculously enough, I woke that morning at 4:30 to strong contractions. And only a short time later, at 7:08 am, Johanna (joe-hannah) made her appearance in the world, utterly shocking me and giving me the best of surprises. She was only 8lbs 6 oz, and only 19 1/4 inches long. We can't get over how LITTLE she is. Her name means God is gracious, and her birth really displayed that so clearly.
It took us a long time to settle on her name, deciding it only a few weeks before her birth. We named her Johanna after the many great Johns of the faith, especially John the Evangelist, and also my two heroes, Johann Sebastian Bach and John R. R. Tolkien. It is also a nod to my name, as it has Hannah right in it. Luthien is, of course, in honor of one of my favorite literary heroines of all time and another nod to Tolkien. Fay is in honor of my mom and grandma, both of whom have it as a middle name.
Her sisters love her, and so do we. What a blessing she is!
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