Five Birth Days Appointed

First son.
We were ready to close on a house.
I was concerned I’d be in labor
And unable to sign papers.
A week early, four days before signing,
Contractions. A full day of lollipops and
Walks, a dinner with friends, lots of stairs.
Then six hours of pain.
The child that’s born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.

Second son.
I wanted a palindrome date, 12/21.
That came and went.
I wanted a December birthday for the tax refund.
That came and went.
Grandparents were waiting.
Great-grandparents came to town.
Nothing.
In desperation, I acknowledged my inability to change,
My foolish pouting over dates and times,
But please let the baby come before the plane
Carried the Greats away.
Next morning: contractions.
Five hours of pain.
The full family greeted him.

Third son.
Though I didn’t know it till later,
The one day all month that
My friend, my midwife, and
My midwife assistant were all in town
And rested. I needed all three.
Five hours of pain and done.

Fourth son.
Late and then later.
Contractions start and stop.
After my earlier upset about no palindrome,
My surprise at the bounty of God:
08/08/08.
Two hours start to end.
“It was a beautiful birth,”
The midwife said.

Fifth son.
Provision: lovely house.
Provision: midwife arrived in time.
Provision: same friend present as first son.
Provision: guitar played over boys as they slept.
Provision: perfect timing in the midst of much upheaval.

Sometimes God’s hand is hard to see.
In the births of my sons,
I can see his hand.
It is an extra grace.