The Story of Felicity Abigail

Felicity Abigail Gastelum was born on Monday, June 7th on a hot-but-not-too-hot afternoon. She weighs 6 lbs. 11 oz. - as perfectly predicted by her grandpa. She is 20 and 1/2 inches long.

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Cheyanne called me early Monday morning and told me Felicity was coming, probably later that night. I was at work, but we decided there was no need to leave just yet. A few hours later, Haven called me and said: "We see the head." Okay!

When I got there, Cheyanne was having a contraction. I had never seen a birth before, so I took my cue from Desiree, Haven, Serene and Tearah that what was happening was a-okay.

Once her contraction subsided, she greeted me and confirmed that all was well. Arturo was by her side, talking in Spanish and looking characteristically relaxed.

Between contractions, Cheyanne would talk to the finch as it tweeted merrily. Poor Luna was locked outside, though she watched expectantly through the window.

Between tasks and preparation and questions, there would be long moments of time where we would all stop and quietly watch and wonder. The experience is at once both natural and not original. It is more than wondrous. It is not frightening at all. It is powerful.

Every so often, the pain would come. A pain that can only be described as the worst pain of life.

Her knowledge guided her; the Lord upheld her. Felicity was coming.

Glory was having a blast. She was very focused and devoted to taking as many pictures as possible, as close as to the action as possible. Unlike Tearah, Serene and myself, no looks of aghast wonderment or worry or tears crossed her little face at all.

For Pam, births seem both altogether sacred and also, for a midwife, the norm. She was very calm- very calm, affirming, present and had the utmost respect for Cheyanne. Above she is giving Chey some honey to boost her energy.

Periodically, Chey would want ice, or watermelon, or both, or neither. Later in the evening I asked Desiree if she was proud of me as I ate slices of watermelon while looking at and studying the placenta.

And then...

All of the hard work came to fruition. The hard work of 9 months previous, and the hard work of labor. She labored for 10 hours, and had active labor for 5.

Felicity!

Cheyanne scooped her up out of the water and with all knowledge and instinct, starting rubbing her and talking to her as though she had known her for years.

The whole thing caught on film...

Felicity Abigail was ushered into the world by the arms of her mother and father, amidst a host of aunts and grandmas. She started to blow bubbles and Cheyanne kissed her and sweetly asked her, "are you giving attitude already? are you blowing bubbles?"

Soon the Swartz caravan came rushing in and the house was full of God's people.

Roger was sure, after taking one quick glance at her, that she was 6 lbs. 11 oz.

After nine children of his own, I must say, how could I have doubted him?

We joined Pam in the kitchen for a lesson on the placenta. Shown above is what's called the "tree of life." Cheyanne's placenta was heart-shaped!

Felicity was an instant Daddy's girl and Arturo was an instant Daddy. Here he is protecting her already, from the afternoon rays.

Soon enough Arturo joined the guys outside and was enjoying a delicious egg and hot dog sandwich. The girls stayed inside and took turns holding the precious new possession of God in our midst.

What more to say than praise the Lord our God!

"Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love, for his wondrous works to the children of man!" Psalm 107:8

Alone Within the Multitudes Pt. I

"What loneliness is more lonely than distrust?" -T.S. Eliot

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"Who ever did you tell? Who did you confide in?" asks my pastor, who is utterly fascinated by this tale, and every tale. He asks with gentle and blazing curiosity. He is the perfect model for listeners everywhere.

It's a dark evening at his home in the desert. We've just finished dinner, and are now enjoying his famously preferred vanilla ice cream and berries. There are books, literally, just - everywhere.

He asks this question as I recount the torment of my bygone life. I talk of my secret, unquenchable longing - the secret, unquenchable longing - of desire without satisfaction, burning without flux or relief.

And though I pause after his question, I know the answer with certainty, immediately. I watch him and think how noticeably alive and reasonable he is set in contrast to the sea of still books behind him. And I look to him and say, knowing that he too, even better than I, understands the fire of Hell:

"No one" I say, "I never told anyone."

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Let this be recorded for a generation to come,

so that a people yet to be created may praise the Lord:
that he looked down from his holy height;

from heaven the Lord looked at the earth,
to hear the groans of the prisoners,

to set free those who were doomed to die,

that they may declare in Zion the name of the Lord,

and in Jerusalem his praise,

when peoples gather together,

and kingdoms, to worship the Lord.

Psalm 102:18-22