Oh sweet Jentzen Cove, how I love you so. This is your story,
baby boy, one worth telling, that I hope you can treasure forevermore. This is the story of how God gave us YOU!
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As I type this, Jentzen is 8 months old. He’s one of the happiest,
sweetest, chillest babies I know (now…!). He’s had a roller coaster of a life
so far, a health scare and hospitalization that I’ll never forget, and a
recovery that I will always treasure. His smile is unmatched in the joy it
brings me when he looks into my eyes, and I’m so thankful for him, breathing in
the sweetness of his snuggle every chance I get!
(If you wanted to read about Brinkley's birth first, click here. And Milo's birth, here.)
After I had given birth to Milo, life changed. When we were getting
ready for our first child, we KNEW life would be different, and we prepared for
it, so we were ready, and when Brinks came, it was as smooth of a transition as
anybody could hope for, but that’s not something we were thinking about when
trying to get pregnant with baby number two. It hit me about 6 months into the
pregnancy that life was about to get really hard, and that maybe we should have
waited another year before having our second, but it was too late. Little did I
know just how difficult it would be for us, for me.
Chris and I have always had a strong marriage, and when
Brinks came along, a strong family dynamic as well, and we figured it would
follow suit with Milo. But it was such a harder transition than we had ever
imagined. That shift from 1 to 2 children was the toughest adjustment we’ve faced
so far in this life. We were never in any real trouble, but that first year of Milo’s
life was definitely the most difficult year for our marriage and family. It was
filled with a lot of joy, but also with a lot of adjustments and sacrifices that
I wasn’t in the right head space to deal with.
Milo’s pregnancy and birth were much harder for me than
Brinkley’s, and it honestly made me never want to be pregnant or have another
child again, and life after his birth confirmed this. I was upset for a number
of reasons, and yes, hormonal as well (thank you post-partum baby blues), but
my faith had reached a low point, and between no sleep, no quiet time, and
constant nursing and giving of myself, while trying to deal with my strong
willed 3 year old, I had had it. The first day I was home alone with Brinks and
Milo by myself (he was 3 weeks old), I plotted the entire day about how I could
be a working mom again, and how I could get out of staying at home. The sweet
season of being a stay at home mom had suddenly died in my heart and so I was
living a life that I was no longer passionate about. None of this was
specifically related to Milo, he was actually a very sweet baby (a very BIG
sweet baby I might add.) I was honestly struggling more with taking care of
Brinkley, but it was mostly just the two verses one day to day that my life had
suddenly become. In hindsight, having learned a lot more about myself over the years,
being at home was not the healthiest place for me or for my family. I am somebody
who needs adult, human, face to face interaction every single day. I need to
leave the house. I need to accomplish things for me besides the basic up keep
of the house and kids. And being a stay at home mom was slowly killing my soul.
I loved my children very much, but we all did so much better when we had some
time apart, and then come together again. Being with them 24/7 began
to ruin our relationship. Adding another kid to this mess was not on my radar,
and I knew our family would never survive such a thing.
Once Milo was about a year old, we had finally come to a
good and comfortable place again. We had found our new normal and were enjoying
life as a family of four. My relationship with God was back on track. I was running
again. I was still a doula, very part-time, and trying to get the kids out of
the house as much as possible. I still wanted to work outside of the home, but
I knew we just weren’t in a financial place to afford the childcare necessary
for me to do so, so I would still dream, but it was on the back burner.
When Milo was about 16 months old, Chris approached me and
told me that he wanted to have a third child. About a month before this I had
confirmed with him the exact opposite. I had sold all of my maternity clothes
and everything. So I was shocked at this news. He had his reasons, but he felt
pretty strongly about it, and he just asked me to consider being open to the
idea. This was in March of 2018. I still thought he was crazy, but I trusted
him, and told him I would pray about it and see what God had to say.
Fast forward to October of that year, about 7 months later.
Chris was still set on having a 3rd baby and I still wasn’t sure,
and even if I agreed to it, the whole question of “when” was luring in the back
of my mind. I had started job hunting at this point, trying to work everything
into my perfect little plan. I had a second call back interview scheduled with
the Greensboro Pregnancy Care Center for a part time job and I was SO excited. It
just didn’t seem like a good time to get pregnant.
God has tried to teach me again and again and AGAIN to
surrender to Him. That is my constant struggle in our relationship. I want to
control my life, and He wants me to surrender it. Each time I have chosen to
surrender, it’s been so freeing and I always wonder what took me so long, but
it appears that to this day, I still haven’t quite fully learned this lesson.
Driving the kids home one day from Brinkley’s pre-school, I
was listening to a worship song and totally one with the spirit of God. He was
telling me to surrender, once more, and that He would take care of everything.
He was giving me His supernatural peace about the entire situation. For the
first time, I felt like we would make it, and that our family would survive a
third child (and more importantly, a third pregnancy lol), with God’s help.
The next evening Chris and I went on a date and I told him
that I would be ok if we had a third baby. I told him I still wasn’t sure when,
and tried to plot out several different scenarios in my head based on so many
different things, but then the whole surrender thing came into play. After
talking it out, we decided that the following month (after I had gotten my next
period) that we would stop using birth control.
But GOD.
The following weekend we were going to Ohio for a friend’s
wedding and I was scheduled to have that lovely time of the month during our
trip, so I prepared myself, but to my surprise, it never came. I just figured I
was off by a couple of days, it had done this once before, so I waited. By the
end of that week, when I still hadn’t gotten my period, Chris encouraged me to
take a test. Convinced it was impossible that I was pregnant because we had
been using protection, I went to the Dollar Tree to get the cheap test, because
you REALLY had to be pregnant for that thing to come back positive. We had
been at the dentist office with Brinks all morning, finding out that she had ten cavities and needed $5,000 worth of dental work (and I still wasn’t working at
the time), and that afternoon when we got home, I casually took the test, thinking
more about our new dental bill than pregnancy. Lo and behold, it was
positive. I was shocked. Chris was overjoyed. I was stunned. Chris was giddy. I
was nervous. Chris was joyful. On the inside though, I was excited. It’s hard
not to be when you know how precious new life is!
Clearly God was at work here. Something Chris had been
desiring for some time, and something God had JUST given me a peace about
happening, was already in motion. Only He could have pulled that off!
Fast. That’s what it felt like. The week before I had just agreed
to being ok with the idea of stopping prevention the following month, not
knowing how long it would take to get pregnant, but I was already pregnant and
didn’t know it. Within a week I was as sick as I’d ever been. And that’s when
things got bad.
In that same week, I had been offered the job at the Pregnancy Care Center, but the childcare I had lined up for this job had fallen
through and I didn’t know what I was going to do. I was also now pregnant and
had to tell them that, and believe it or not they were still willing to hire
me! But how could they when I didn’t have a childcare plan? I was torn. I wanted to work but I couldn’t figure out
how. I knew I wouldn’t make it being a stay at home mom of THREE. I barely
survived it with two. I needed to work, and wanted to, but I didn’t know what
to do.
The day they offered me the job, I came by the church to
pick up Milo from Chris who had kept him during my final interview. They had
gone to grab lunch and weren’t back yet but I ran into my friends, Jonathan and
Alexa, who were having lunch with their four kiddos. They could tell I was
distraught, and as I began to explain my situation to them, I told them I was
pregnant as well and started crying. We hadn’t told anybody yet. Well, if God
hadn’t lined up that situation I don’t know who did. Jonathan had a job opening
for a part-time, contracted position for 3 months. At Daystar. Chris and my
close friends knew very well that working at Daystar had been a dream of mine
for years. My heart had grown and grown for the local church since Chris began
working there, and God had spoken to me on more than one occasion that I would
one day be in full time ministry, but I hadn’t dreamed that day would come as
soon as it had. Jonathan asked if I would consider taking the job at Daystar,
that did provide childcare, and it wasn’t even a question in my mind. That
afternoon I accepted the position there and told the Pregnancy Care Center I
wouldn’t be taking the job (as much as I had initially wanted to!).
This was a LOT of things. A new job, a new baby, and all at
once. I was due to start the job on Monday (this was the Thursday before), but
my nausea set in the following day (Friday), and by Sunday night I was barely
mobile. I had never had morning sickness hit me this hard. I felt it with
Brinks, and it wasn’t fun, but it was summer and I was a teacher, and I
basically slept it off the entire break. With Milo, it was much more intense
and miserable, but I was at home, so Brinkley basically watched cartoons while
I puked my brains out in between naps. This time, however, it literally took me
out. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t walk, I felt like I was constantly hung over
with the worst body aches, nausea, and throwing up I’d ever experienced. I wasn’t
able to start working that Monday, and instead, by Tuesday I was in the hospital,
hooked up to fluids and IV anti-nausea meds. And I was hating every minute of
it.
I was the most miserable I’d ever been in my entire life. For
some reason, I have always struggled with physical pain more than anything else.
Throw a huge emotional situation at me and I can take it, but get me sick or
injured and I’m a lost cause. When I am physically unwell, every part of me in
unwell, and I lose faith faster in that situation than any other situation in
life. This caused me to have some dark thoughts. I went from spending every
morning with the Lord, in worship, in prayer, in His word, journaling everything
He told me, prophesying over my friends, and clearly hearing Him throughout the
entirety of my days, to spending every conscious moment wishing I wasn’t conscious,
so that I didn’t have to feel and experience what I was going through. It was
so bad, that on multiple occasions I was begging God to give this baby to
somebody else. And by that, I mean that I was wishing for a miscarriage, simply
so that I didn’t have to endure that pain anymore. That’s a very, VERY low
place to be in, and it was very real in the moment. But Jentzen Cove, you were most certainly worth it!
I did eventually start working, which actually helped. It
was a break from having to take care of the kiddos, and a distraction from the
way I was feeling. Sure I was vomiting on the job, but I was there, and it
actually helped me get through that part of the pregnancy (and lasted ‘til
about 23 weeks this time). Bleh. An awesome thing that happened during this
time, though, was switching from a part time contracted position, to a full
time position on staff. It really was my dream come true. I could tell you all
of the reasons why this was so amazing, but that’s another story!!
One crazy thing I just have to mention here (simply so that
I don’t forget) is that somehow, Brinkley, Chris, and myself, ALL got Shingles
(at different times) during this pregnancy. First Brinks, then Chris, then me,
all weeks or months apart from each other. The doctors swear to us that we didn’t
give it to each other because it’s not contagious (only Chicken Pox is), but the
irony is uncanny. Anyway….
Before we got our gender reveal ultrasound, I knew it was a
boy. About a year before all of this, I thought I was pregnant. I had been in
such conversation with God and He was clearly telling me that I was going to
have a baby boy, and that if I would just trust Him (and SURRENDER) that His timing
was perfect. So after my period was 2 weeks late, and I said ok God, bring on
that baby boy, He gave me my period instead. I thought he was just teaching me
surrender, and then was so relieved when it wasn’t actually a baby, but I was confused
because he clearly told me that He was going to give Chris and I a baby boy. And
He did, just not until a year and a half later. Needless to say though, I wasn’t
surprised when the ultrasound tech told us it was a boy, I already knew that
this was the boy God had promised me before. It was time now.
I was planning to give birth at the birth center in
Statesville again. Chris and I had had such a great experience with the care we
got there that we couldn’t imagine going anywhere else. I did have one fear
though. The fear of having to birth another 11 pound baby naturally. Milo had
gone all the way to 42 weeks and I DID NOT want to do that again, for the
misery of being pregnant that long, and for having to give birth to a bigger
baby. Just like buns, the longer they cook, the bigger they get, so I wanted
him a little smaller and soft in the middle lol, not big and burnt like Milo
was! That being said, I was doing everything, again, to have him as early as I
could. Sex every day. Evening Primrose Oil. Red Raspberry Leaf Tea. Acupressure.
Nipple Stimulation. And even the dreaded Castor Oil! There’s no desperation like
a woman at the end of a pregnancy. Was I trusting God and surrendering like He’d
been trying to teach me again and again? Nope. I was begging for a baby, once
again. You think I would have learned by now!
It’s week 39 and everything was normal. Feeling all of the
things, as hot as ever (it was the 4th of July), and just waiting on
this baby. We went to the birth center a couple of times that week for the old
membrane sweep, just to see if we could get the show on the road, and prayed it
would do something. I’d been taking nightly Epsom salt baths, trying to relax
and massage all of my muscles, and again, all of the things to naturally induce
labor, and I still found myself getting SO frustrated. I even went to another
wedding so close to my due date (just like I did with Milo), but Jentzen
decided to stay put (just like Milo).
I had reached the point where I was done showing my face at
church (I reached this point with Milo too). I didn’t want to hear another person
tell me how huge I was, that they couldn’t believe I was still pregnant, or ask
me when I was going to have that baby. So I dropped off the kids at the door
and went home to nap and cry. And take some more castor oil.
By that afternoon I had reached my give up point once again.
I told Chris to get a babysitter (thank you Jenna!) because we were going to go
on a date that night. I was done moping around and I was going to enjoy the
little time we had left before Jentzen came. I hopped in the shower, and within
a couple of hours, we were headed to The Bonefish Grill, our official date
spot. It was a Sunday evening, a day of the week we never go out on, because…church.
On the way to the restaurant, I told Chris where I was. I
told him that I was done trying to put myself into labor and that I would just
accept whatever God had planned (what I should have been doing all along). When
our food arrived, Chris said a prayer before we ate, not just over our food,
but about our surrender to God and His will and our trust in Him in all of this.
After the prayer, we were talking about the relief it was not to be trying to
go into labor anymore, and just being able to rest in the peace of God’s plan.
And at that moment…my water broke!
Isn’t it funny how when I finally surrendered to God, let
go, and relaxed, He broke my water? Another lesson in surrender to build my
faith story.
That was one of the most surreal moments of my life. I was
sitting in a booth, covered in amniotic fluid. Neither of my other labors did
my water ever break on its own, and I was well into labor when somebody broke
it. But here I was, on a date with my husband, with a broken water, just like the
movies. Except there was no rush to the hospital!
(PSA- you do NOT have to rush to the hospital if your water
breaks, unless it’s green in color-mine was not. Under the care of a midwife,
you have up to 72 hours after your water breaks for labor to start on its own
before they need to intervene!)
In that moment, I looked at Chris and as still and calm as
can be, I simply told him, “My water just broke.” I think he did a double take
because he couldn’t believe it either. “What do we do?” he said. I immediately
responded “get the check!”
My other two labors kicked into gear when my water was finally
broken, and I thought that would happen here too, so we didn’t finish our food or
drinks, we just paid and left. But not before I had to scar a bus boy for life
(he was no more than 17) by asking him for some bar rags/towels so that I could
sop up the mess I had made all over the bench! The look on his face when I told
him what had happened was priceless!! Thankfully I was wearing a black dress,
so when I stood up you couldn’t really tell what had happened unless you were really paying attention.
Excited, we called our sitter, Jenna, on the way home to let
her know we’d be there early, but that we wanted her to stay through bedtime
just in case we had to leave in a hurry. We also called my mom over, and let my
sister know to be on call to come and watch the kids. But I’d yet to have a
single contraction. Had I known I wouldn’t actually be in labor for awhile, I
would have stayed at the restaurant, enjoyed my meal, and gone out to the
movies afterward!! Lessons learned!
When nothing was happening still that evening, we all decided
to get some rest. Mom went home and Chris and I went to bed, disappointed, but
at least happy to be getting some sleep before hard labor would begin.
The next day was Monday and Chris took the kids to daycare
like normal, but he took the day off of work (as did I lol) and came home to be
with me. I had been in touch with my midwife and she encouraged me to do castor
oil, nipple stimulation and such to get contractions going. Here I was again.
Same spot. Same desperation. Same discouragement. Trying to get labor to start,
except this time, with a broken water. I was trying to do all of the things and
stay up beat but I was getting really impatient. I had had all of 5
contractions since my water had broken and labor wasn’t going anywhere. And so,
like 24 hours before (you think I would have learned to surrender by now…I hadn’t),
I had another big fat crying session, and Chris prayed over me (again), another
prayer of surrender. I had given up and given in again and was letting God take
the wheel…again. As soon as Chris was done praying…my water broke. Again! Can
somebody say Holy Spirit?! Did you know that there can be multiple bags of
water? And that sometimes the baby’s head is blocking the forward waters after
the initial waters have broken. Well, that’s what happened to me. Another sign
from God that when I let Him be in charge, He moves, in perfect timing.
At that point, relaxed and ready, Chris and I both ironically
decided to take a nap. My sister was going to pick the kids up from daycare for
us so that we could get out one more time and finish the date that we had
started the night before, since I still wasn’t having any contractions. It was
a GOOD nap! But something woke me up, a feeling, not a contraction, but just a feeling. I stood up and went to change clothes, and I started shaking.
My lips started chattering and I started feeling nauseas. All of these are
signs of transition…the END of labor. But I still hadn’t had a contraction. I
told Chris to grab our labor bag just in case I went into labor while we were
out so that we’d be ready to go. I walked downstairs to the kitchen and just
then, it happened. My first real contraction. And I had to grab onto Chris for
support. That’s all it took. I remembered that contraction pain from Milo’s
labor and I knew that this was IT. It was time to go!!! Before I could even get
in the car I had another one. And before we could get out of the neighborhood,
I had another one. I immediately texted and called anybody and everybody
necessary and told them it was time, we were finally heading to the birth
center.
It was about 5:30pm by this time, the dead of rush hour, of
course. Chris was speeding most of the way because he could hear the pain in my
voice. These contractions were transition contractions. This wasn’t going to be
25 hours of labor like Brinkley, or even 7-12 hours of labor like Milo. This
was going to be FAST!
I timed my contractions on the way with an app on my phone,
not to see if they were close together or not (they were!), but simply so I
would have something to focus on for the ride (it takes a little over an hour to
get there)! Chris turned on my worship playlist I had made for labor and I
tried to let the words wash over me. It was a very intense car ride. Right off
the highway I almost asked Chris to pull over so that I could puke…but I
somehow managed to keep it in and just keep going. I knew we were close though.
When we pulled into the parking lot, my mom was already
there, and the midwives were as well. The midwife met me at the car door,
trying to encourage me to get out but I didn’t want to. My contractions were SO long and strong that I didn’t want to move, and moving would bring on
another one, so her and her assistant essentially carried me inside. I felt
like I was floating some how! Those women were strong!!
Inside, we did a quick exam just to see where I was. 7cm and
100% effaced. It was disappointing at the time, considering how much pain I was
in, but she quickly encouraged me that I could easily jump to a 9 in the next
contraction and not to fret, we were nearly there. I held onto Chris for one
more good standing contraction, and then into the tub I went! Just like in Milo’s
birth, I should have done more standing contractions and had gravity work in my
favor, and sometimes being able to put all of my weight into Chris was better
than being in the tub. But I knew how good it felt to get in the tub so I
hopped in anyways.
Almost immediately I felt that back labor again like I had
with Milo. Not an OP baby, but another giant head for sure! Chris, from experience,
knew just what to do and immediately got to work on my back, giving me the
counter pressure that I truly needed. He even got into the tub to get a better
angle. There were a few times during contractions where I had to bite down on a
towel/my hands/whatever was right in front of me to make it through the
contraction. Phew they were strong!
In very little time, I felt the urge to push. I was
surprised how quickly it came. I did some practice pushes in the tub, because
my goal was to have a waterbirth. When I had to get out of the tub to have Milo
I was so disappointed, and this time I really wanted to stay in. But I knew my
body, and I knew the pain I was in. Could I have pushed him out in the tub?
Sure. But I knew it would take longer. I knew if I could get back into gravity
and get on the bed in a good spot that I could push him out MUCH faster. So I
took control of that room. I told everybody to get ready because I was going to
come to the bed. I told them to get my heating pad on there and to crank it on
high because I would need it for my back. And then after the next contraction,
I turned around and got out of the tub, which immediately triggered another
contraction that brought me to my knees on the floor. Everybody in the room
thought that I would have him right there on the floor (except maybe Chris
lol), but I was determined to get to the bed (for the sake of my back pain
mostly), so after one contraction on the floor, I headed to the bed and started
to push with all of my might. It took me all of one contraction to get my rhythm and figure
out the perfect pushing position. Chris was shocked at how quickly pushing was going since Brinks took 40 minutes and Milo took an hour, but Jentzen took maybe 5 minutes of actual pushing. Then, the moment had arrived, that moment that I had looked forward to for over nine months now. With a lot of screaming (on my end) and one last big push, he had arrived!!! He was here! And he was breathing!! They immediately put him on my chest, and what a sweet relief that brought! My sweet, slimy,
Jentzen Cove Heeter, was born at 7:41pm, on July 8th, 2019.
I couldn’t believe how quickly he came. Just over 2 hours from
my first contraction, I was holding my son, and I never wanted to let go. My
mom filmed the whole thing (thank you mom!), and Chris truly was my support! My
best friend Louisa, who was on a family vacation two hours away in the
mountains, walked in about 8 minutes after he was born! She was going to be my doula,
but turns out Jentzen just couldn’t wait! But I was glad-I’ll take a fast birth
every time!
(Skin to skin time with Dada)
(My incredible birth team)
This birth was so healing for me, so redemptive. Poor Milo’s
pregnancy and labor and delivery made me never want to do any of it again, made
me afraid to be pregnant, afraid to labor, afraid to push out a large baby, and
Jentzen’s birth redeemed all of that (not the morning sickness though, there
was nothing redemptive about that!). It was like God knew that I needed to have
Jentzen before I did, for so many reasons, one of which was that I wouldn’t fear
childbirth again, and that instead I would look on it with sweet memories and
be encouraged and excited by it once more!
His birth was one of the best experiences of my life. All three
of their births were, in different ways. There’s just something supernatural,
special, and miraculous about bringing a child into the world, and I thank God
that He’s allowed me to do it three times!
(Official Birth Announcement)
