This is the birth story of Pearl Francesca Hertzog.
It is Mid-December 2014 - just before Christmas, Advent Season. Isaac is just 2, and Lucas not yet 1. It's been a rough year, and we are in the weeds. Lucas is not yet weaned, and also not sleeping through the night. We lie in bed, exhausted. Phil says "Are we done?" - weighing in on the possibility of having another child at some point. We cannot bring ourselves to say yes. It feels so final. Yet, here we are, feeling tapped out, defeated even, and still we cannot bring ourselves to say that we will eventually attain that final 5 - which we talked about so early on in our dating days. We decide to shelf the conversation, and wait. "Let's take a break" we say... "3 or 4 years. We'll decide then."
Days later, we laugh at the futility of that conversation. After not feeling well all day, I ask my Husband to run out and get a pregnancy test. He whips over to the pharmacy as he had done so many times before, both of us already knowing what future the test was about to show us.
I cannot tell you exactly what I was feeling the moment I saw the positive pregnancy test, but I do know the days and weeks after, I felt intense and unbridled joy. Despite the burden of mothering 2 under 2, along with a sweet 6 year old and an audacious 11 year old, something about it just felt right. Perfect, even. Both Phil and I were infectious with gladness. Surprised by our joy, we leaned into it, and settled in.
We surprised all of our family at Christmas with the news, and even posted on Facebook about it.
It was early still, but we were confident. It felt like a prophecy was being fulfilled, and we wanted everyone to share in that miracle with us. Our family and friends celebrated along with us.
January 6, 2015, I was driving to meet with my Endocrinologist, looking at the fiery sun in the wintery sky. I remember thinking "God is preparing me for whats to come."
The next day, I bled hard.
I called my husband, feeling tense, but remaining calm. "Are you having a miscarriage?" he meekly asked. "Remember Lucas" I said, softly. And together we quietly reflected on the summer of 2013, at the shore, when I, just 3 months pregnant, bled steadily after nursing my infant son Isaac to a nap. After a long drive alone, to an unfamiliar hospital, I was sure my baby was gone. With tears in my eyes, I sat in the parking lot trying to cope with what I knew to be true. I looked up and through my tears saw the tiniest rainbow shining through the clouds, backed by the hazy sun.
I felt that was the Lord letting me know my baby was being received into the gates of Heaven. And with a heavy sadness, I walked through the hospital doors steadying myself to hear what I already knew. Imagine my surprise, when they did the bloody ultrasound, and there on the screen was my healthy bouncing baby Lucas, waving at me with a strong, beating, heart. I choked on my own joy and surprise, and knew the rainbow to be a message of hope, and protection over his life, and not death, as I initially thought.
I carried that hope and promise of the rainbow with me into this next chapter. However, within the hour the bleeding intensified. I waited for my husband to come home, and again took the lonely drive to the hospital. When I received my ultrasound, again I saw my beautiful baby, and her beautiful beating heart. No words can describe that surge of peace a Mother feels, laying eyes on her child-in-womb for the first time, and knowing they are in there, known and alive.
However, all was not well.
The Doctors explained that her heartbeat was slow... much slower then it needed to be at this point in gestation, and coupled with the bleeding; miscarriage was all but imminent. I stared at my baby on the screen... for the moment alive - and known by me her mother - and I tried to take it all in. There was nothing more to do but to "go home, rest, and keep movement to a minimum" they said. I tried to reconcile that concept with my world at home 4 children who needed me all day, everyday, 2 under 2. I was overwhelmed with this fragile little baby inside of me, her life hanging in the balance. Every step I took risked her existence. For days, I laid in bed bleeding, and crying, and trying not to move. Even a trip to the bathroom or shower was torture, as I stood up and waited for my baby to fall from between my legs.
Finally, 3 days later on the cold bathroom floor as I was bathing my sons, it happened. I released my baby, and couldn't bear the thought of flushing her down the toilet. Even in these early days, she looked so human... so much mine. Something primal within me could not let her go. I paced in the bathroom, screaming, not knowing what to do. I begged my Husband to decide for us. Softly, and gently, he put his loving hand on my shoulder and told me exactly the right words. "I am going to take our baby down to the creek, and set her free". And so, with that peace and deep sadness I watched him wrap our dead baby in a cloth, and go.
The next few months were difficult. I had previously had a miscarriage - Phil and mine first pregnancy before Isaac - but the egg never sprouted, and was released before the baby had a heart. Somehow, seeing my baby alive and then seeing her pass was almost too much for me. The dreams of having our fifth child dissipated and I no longer wished to pursue pregnancy further. In a sordid, sad, peace Phil and I agreed to stop growing our family, and to focus on the 4 beautiful children that we had.
So.... imagine our shock and disbelief when less then 2 months later in mid March we became pregnant again.
Honestly, I wasn't happy. I wasn't concerned about my physical health, but I'd be lying if I told you I felt joy. In fact, It was just the opposite. I cried deep tears of sadness when I learned we were pregnant, and became a bit despondent and aloof in the days and weeks to follow. I wasn't ready to carry another child, and I did not feel ready to bring one to fruition and care for her in life. I expressed these concerns to my Midwife, one in particular Jamesina, who had cared for me so gently throughout our loss. She told me everything I was feeling was safe, and normal. In fact, she let me know that she had had this exact same conversation with dozens of women who had tried desperately to conceive, and after YEARS of being barren felt this same way once they had become pregnant. Hormones can do so much to guard the heart. She suggested I have an ultrasound and let's see how I felt after.
The ultrasound helped me to bond with my baby. I began to accept our situation. Words and support from a dear friend helped me cope, and this particular verse of the Bible was a soothing encouragement. Jeremiah 1:5
I was still guarded, and was reluctant to share our news with anyone as the months went on. It wasn't until deep into the 2nd trimester that I felt ready to share with friends and family.
In the beginning of my relationship with Phil, we prophetically imagined we would have 3 more children together. We sat in the car one day, daydreaming and laughing about it. "Boy, Boy, Girl" I had said. "Let the Lord make it so" we had said. I felt so strongly that the little baby we had lost was a girl, and I wasn't so sure that this one would be. I decided I didn't want to learn the sex of our new baby. That mattered less to me then how this tiny, little human would fit into our family as a whole.
And, so the months drew on, me slowly adapting - slowly preparing my heart and a room for baby, and slowly coming to love this new baby for who he or she was to be. In the Summer I began to feel that intense and unbridled joy bubbling up, despite myself. Phil and I drove to the beach to celebrate our 4th wedding anniversary and we witnessed the most beautiful rainbow right on the beach. From that point on, I referred to our little miracle as our "Rainbow Baby".
It was not an easy pregnancy at all. Medically, all was well - but the burden of being pregnant with 2 little ones under foot, and my Husband in a new job that required him to travel a lot was almost too much to bear. But, I did what all Mothers do - I gritted my teeth and powered through.
Our baby was due 11/21. After going to a full 42 weeks with Lucas, I was dubious and had zero expectations. Here I am pregnant on the morning of 11/18.
I had fooled myself so good, that I even planned to host Thanksgiving Dinner. On this morning, something started to shift within me, and I instinctively called everyone up and said "Sorry, but I can't host." My Mother-In-Law was so supportive and assured me she would take over and all would be well, with or without the baby here, earthside.
On the morning of 11/19 I took both of my boys to a Play Gym, and while they were jumping, I could tell something was going to happen. I don't know how I knew - but instinctually, I did. I was not yet having contractions... but I packed them up early, and headed towards home.
All that day, something felt... just... ready. But still, no contractions.
The next day would be Friday 11/20 and I knew I had to drive the morning carpool into the city. Still, no contractions, yet at dinner time that night, around 6pm, I called my brother Franklin, who was out at a work event with his girlfriend Noella. I said "hey - I think I am going to have a baby tonight. If that happens, do you think you can drive to Mt. Airy by 7am tomorrow, and pick up a carload of neighborhood kids, and drive them into school?". He and Noella were a bit drunk at the time, and laughed and said "SURE! HOW FUN!".... "TEAM GIRL" they shouted. It was so sweet and the nicest thing my brother ever did for me. I called the parents, and let them know that would probably be happening. Still, no contractions.
At 9pm, we had put all the kids to bed, and still hadn't had a single contraction. I laid in bed and looked at the clock.... 9:15. "Hey, day after tomorrow is our baby's due date" I said to Phil. "Yep" He said. "We've never had a baby on time." I said. "Except for Isaac." he noted. "Oh yea!" "Isaac was born ON his due date!" I said. "yep" said Phil. "Wouldn't it be funny if she came a day early, just to kick his ass?" I said. "haha, yep" he said. "What would be even funnier is if your water spontaneously broke right now, just so she could show up her brother.".... "hahahaha... yea."
At 10:15, almost to the minute as when my water broke with Isaac, day before his due date, Phil and I were watching a movie, and *POP* my water, spontaneously breaks in bed.
The next 15 minutes were a combination of us screaming "NO WAY!", feeling great about myself for prepping that morning drive, and calling the Midwives. My fluid, just like with Isaac, was clear, with no blood or discoloration, and contractions had not yet started. I was in the clear to wait at home, until the birthing process started. We called my Mother-In-Law Kathy, who was our person, and she said she would head over immediately.
11:00P.M. - Called Franklin & Noella again to let them know, their shift was on. They were taking shots at that moment, and they assured me they would be heading home promptly to get some rest. "TEAM GIRL" they shouted again. I laughed.
By 2:00A.M., I was having seriously strong contractions, and finally the classic 4-1-1. (Contractions were 4 minutes apart, lasting 1 minute in length, for at least 1 hour, with difficulty breathing and talking through them).
We decided to head over to the Birth Center, and get this baby born! We loaded up into the car, but my lower back started to kill me. My husband ran into the house to heat up my beloved "Rice Sock"... which was merely a loose orange would Hiking Sock that I had filled with rice, and tied in a knot. In the weeks prior I would heat it up in the microwave, to place on my lower back. It was a Godsend. With the Rice Sock in place, finally we could go, and I could endure.
We arrived at the birth center just before 3:00A.M. This time, they escorted me into the "Yellow Room". Previously, both boys had been born in the Green Room, so this was new.
For the next 3 1/2 hours I labored intensively in the bath and shower, pacing around the room, and making primal sounds, that no one would ever understand, unless you have been in the birthing room with a woman sans medication. My husband supported me, and did not sleep.
At 6:00A.M., my children woke up at home, to their Mom-Mom, instead of me, and had to go to school not knowing whether their brother or sister would be there when they arrived home.
At 6:45A.M., after 1 hour of contractions becoming much weaker instead of progressing, the Midwives suggested we break my water bags. "They broke on their own last night" I clarified. "They did indeed" they stated - However, we think everything south of your babies head has leaked out, but the top part of the bag has ballooned up, filling with water, and this is why you are experiencing extreme discomfort." "Oh, is that why..." I mumbled through gritted teeth as I groaned with everything the Lord put in me. "Well, then yes, let's break this party wide open" I screamed!
At 6:55A.M., just as I would be loading my kids and myself into the car for the carpool, they laid me on my back, on the bed, and broke the top part of my water bags.
At 6:57am, without even a push, just like her brother Lucas, the Midwife said to the attendants in the room "Put on your gloves, this baby is about to be born", and so it was, that our precious baby slid out into the world, and without even a cry took the first breath of life.
At 7:05A.M, after placing the baby on my chest with a blanket, several blissful minutes of staring deep into each other's eyes, the cord still pulsing, my Husband finally asks: Well, What is it? A boy, or girl? "Well, why don't you check, Dad?" they said, as they giggled.
I already knew. I didn't check. But, still, I knew.
"IT'S A GIRL" - Phil Shouted! We cried.
Up until that point we hadn't settled on names, because we hadn't known the gender. We knew a boy would be Mark Abraham, and we knew the girl would be Pearl... but we could not agree on a middle name. We decided to shelf it until the baby was born.
7:15A.M And just like that, without hesitation, my sweet husband looked over at me and said " I know her name". "It's Pearl Francesca"... and I wept deeply, for my Grandmother had passed last year, and I hadn't known why it hadn't occurred to me.
It was early still, but we were confident. It felt like a prophecy was being fulfilled, and we wanted everyone to share in that miracle with us. Our family and friends celebrated along with us.
January 6, 2015, I was driving to meet with my Endocrinologist, looking at the fiery sun in the wintery sky. I remember thinking "God is preparing me for whats to come."
The next day, I bled hard.
I called my husband, feeling tense, but remaining calm. "Are you having a miscarriage?" he meekly asked. "Remember Lucas" I said, softly. And together we quietly reflected on the summer of 2013, at the shore, when I, just 3 months pregnant, bled steadily after nursing my infant son Isaac to a nap. After a long drive alone, to an unfamiliar hospital, I was sure my baby was gone. With tears in my eyes, I sat in the parking lot trying to cope with what I knew to be true. I looked up and through my tears saw the tiniest rainbow shining through the clouds, backed by the hazy sun.
I felt that was the Lord letting me know my baby was being received into the gates of Heaven. And with a heavy sadness, I walked through the hospital doors steadying myself to hear what I already knew. Imagine my surprise, when they did the bloody ultrasound, and there on the screen was my healthy bouncing baby Lucas, waving at me with a strong, beating, heart. I choked on my own joy and surprise, and knew the rainbow to be a message of hope, and protection over his life, and not death, as I initially thought.
I carried that hope and promise of the rainbow with me into this next chapter. However, within the hour the bleeding intensified. I waited for my husband to come home, and again took the lonely drive to the hospital. When I received my ultrasound, again I saw my beautiful baby, and her beautiful beating heart. No words can describe that surge of peace a Mother feels, laying eyes on her child-in-womb for the first time, and knowing they are in there, known and alive.
However, all was not well.
The Doctors explained that her heartbeat was slow... much slower then it needed to be at this point in gestation, and coupled with the bleeding; miscarriage was all but imminent. I stared at my baby on the screen... for the moment alive - and known by me her mother - and I tried to take it all in. There was nothing more to do but to "go home, rest, and keep movement to a minimum" they said. I tried to reconcile that concept with my world at home 4 children who needed me all day, everyday, 2 under 2. I was overwhelmed with this fragile little baby inside of me, her life hanging in the balance. Every step I took risked her existence. For days, I laid in bed bleeding, and crying, and trying not to move. Even a trip to the bathroom or shower was torture, as I stood up and waited for my baby to fall from between my legs.
Finally, 3 days later on the cold bathroom floor as I was bathing my sons, it happened. I released my baby, and couldn't bear the thought of flushing her down the toilet. Even in these early days, she looked so human... so much mine. Something primal within me could not let her go. I paced in the bathroom, screaming, not knowing what to do. I begged my Husband to decide for us. Softly, and gently, he put his loving hand on my shoulder and told me exactly the right words. "I am going to take our baby down to the creek, and set her free". And so, with that peace and deep sadness I watched him wrap our dead baby in a cloth, and go.
The next few months were difficult. I had previously had a miscarriage - Phil and mine first pregnancy before Isaac - but the egg never sprouted, and was released before the baby had a heart. Somehow, seeing my baby alive and then seeing her pass was almost too much for me. The dreams of having our fifth child dissipated and I no longer wished to pursue pregnancy further. In a sordid, sad, peace Phil and I agreed to stop growing our family, and to focus on the 4 beautiful children that we had.
So.... imagine our shock and disbelief when less then 2 months later in mid March we became pregnant again.
Honestly, I wasn't happy. I wasn't concerned about my physical health, but I'd be lying if I told you I felt joy. In fact, It was just the opposite. I cried deep tears of sadness when I learned we were pregnant, and became a bit despondent and aloof in the days and weeks to follow. I wasn't ready to carry another child, and I did not feel ready to bring one to fruition and care for her in life. I expressed these concerns to my Midwife, one in particular Jamesina, who had cared for me so gently throughout our loss. She told me everything I was feeling was safe, and normal. In fact, she let me know that she had had this exact same conversation with dozens of women who had tried desperately to conceive, and after YEARS of being barren felt this same way once they had become pregnant. Hormones can do so much to guard the heart. She suggested I have an ultrasound and let's see how I felt after.
The ultrasound helped me to bond with my baby. I began to accept our situation. Words and support from a dear friend helped me cope, and this particular verse of the Bible was a soothing encouragement. Jeremiah 1:5
5“I knew you before I formed you in your mother’s womb.
Before you were born I set you apart
and appointed you as my prophet to the nations.”
In the beginning of my relationship with Phil, we prophetically imagined we would have 3 more children together. We sat in the car one day, daydreaming and laughing about it. "Boy, Boy, Girl" I had said. "Let the Lord make it so" we had said. I felt so strongly that the little baby we had lost was a girl, and I wasn't so sure that this one would be. I decided I didn't want to learn the sex of our new baby. That mattered less to me then how this tiny, little human would fit into our family as a whole.
And, so the months drew on, me slowly adapting - slowly preparing my heart and a room for baby, and slowly coming to love this new baby for who he or she was to be. In the Summer I began to feel that intense and unbridled joy bubbling up, despite myself. Phil and I drove to the beach to celebrate our 4th wedding anniversary and we witnessed the most beautiful rainbow right on the beach. From that point on, I referred to our little miracle as our "Rainbow Baby".
It was not an easy pregnancy at all. Medically, all was well - but the burden of being pregnant with 2 little ones under foot, and my Husband in a new job that required him to travel a lot was almost too much to bear. But, I did what all Mothers do - I gritted my teeth and powered through.
Our baby was due 11/21. After going to a full 42 weeks with Lucas, I was dubious and had zero expectations. Here I am pregnant on the morning of 11/18.
I had fooled myself so good, that I even planned to host Thanksgiving Dinner. On this morning, something started to shift within me, and I instinctively called everyone up and said "Sorry, but I can't host." My Mother-In-Law was so supportive and assured me she would take over and all would be well, with or without the baby here, earthside.
On the morning of 11/19 I took both of my boys to a Play Gym, and while they were jumping, I could tell something was going to happen. I don't know how I knew - but instinctually, I did. I was not yet having contractions... but I packed them up early, and headed towards home.
All that day, something felt... just... ready. But still, no contractions.
The next day would be Friday 11/20 and I knew I had to drive the morning carpool into the city. Still, no contractions, yet at dinner time that night, around 6pm, I called my brother Franklin, who was out at a work event with his girlfriend Noella. I said "hey - I think I am going to have a baby tonight. If that happens, do you think you can drive to Mt. Airy by 7am tomorrow, and pick up a carload of neighborhood kids, and drive them into school?". He and Noella were a bit drunk at the time, and laughed and said "SURE! HOW FUN!".... "TEAM GIRL" they shouted. It was so sweet and the nicest thing my brother ever did for me. I called the parents, and let them know that would probably be happening. Still, no contractions.
At 9pm, we had put all the kids to bed, and still hadn't had a single contraction. I laid in bed and looked at the clock.... 9:15. "Hey, day after tomorrow is our baby's due date" I said to Phil. "Yep" He said. "We've never had a baby on time." I said. "Except for Isaac." he noted. "Oh yea!" "Isaac was born ON his due date!" I said. "yep" said Phil. "Wouldn't it be funny if she came a day early, just to kick his ass?" I said. "haha, yep" he said. "What would be even funnier is if your water spontaneously broke right now, just so she could show up her brother.".... "hahahaha... yea."
At 10:15, almost to the minute as when my water broke with Isaac, day before his due date, Phil and I were watching a movie, and *POP* my water, spontaneously breaks in bed.
The next 15 minutes were a combination of us screaming "NO WAY!", feeling great about myself for prepping that morning drive, and calling the Midwives. My fluid, just like with Isaac, was clear, with no blood or discoloration, and contractions had not yet started. I was in the clear to wait at home, until the birthing process started. We called my Mother-In-Law Kathy, who was our person, and she said she would head over immediately.
11:00P.M. - Called Franklin & Noella again to let them know, their shift was on. They were taking shots at that moment, and they assured me they would be heading home promptly to get some rest. "TEAM GIRL" they shouted again. I laughed.
By 2:00A.M., I was having seriously strong contractions, and finally the classic 4-1-1. (Contractions were 4 minutes apart, lasting 1 minute in length, for at least 1 hour, with difficulty breathing and talking through them).
We decided to head over to the Birth Center, and get this baby born! We loaded up into the car, but my lower back started to kill me. My husband ran into the house to heat up my beloved "Rice Sock"... which was merely a loose orange would Hiking Sock that I had filled with rice, and tied in a knot. In the weeks prior I would heat it up in the microwave, to place on my lower back. It was a Godsend. With the Rice Sock in place, finally we could go, and I could endure.
We arrived at the birth center just before 3:00A.M. This time, they escorted me into the "Yellow Room". Previously, both boys had been born in the Green Room, so this was new.
For the next 3 1/2 hours I labored intensively in the bath and shower, pacing around the room, and making primal sounds, that no one would ever understand, unless you have been in the birthing room with a woman sans medication. My husband supported me, and did not sleep.
At 6:00A.M., my children woke up at home, to their Mom-Mom, instead of me, and had to go to school not knowing whether their brother or sister would be there when they arrived home.
At 6:45A.M., after 1 hour of contractions becoming much weaker instead of progressing, the Midwives suggested we break my water bags. "They broke on their own last night" I clarified. "They did indeed" they stated - However, we think everything south of your babies head has leaked out, but the top part of the bag has ballooned up, filling with water, and this is why you are experiencing extreme discomfort." "Oh, is that why..." I mumbled through gritted teeth as I groaned with everything the Lord put in me. "Well, then yes, let's break this party wide open" I screamed!
At 6:55A.M., just as I would be loading my kids and myself into the car for the carpool, they laid me on my back, on the bed, and broke the top part of my water bags.
At 6:57am, without even a push, just like her brother Lucas, the Midwife said to the attendants in the room "Put on your gloves, this baby is about to be born", and so it was, that our precious baby slid out into the world, and without even a cry took the first breath of life.
At 7:05A.M, after placing the baby on my chest with a blanket, several blissful minutes of staring deep into each other's eyes, the cord still pulsing, my Husband finally asks: Well, What is it? A boy, or girl? "Well, why don't you check, Dad?" they said, as they giggled.
I already knew. I didn't check. But, still, I knew.
"IT'S A GIRL" - Phil Shouted! We cried.
Up until that point we hadn't settled on names, because we hadn't known the gender. We knew a boy would be Mark Abraham, and we knew the girl would be Pearl... but we could not agree on a middle name. We decided to shelf it until the baby was born.
7:15A.M And just like that, without hesitation, my sweet husband looked over at me and said " I know her name". "It's Pearl Francesca"... and I wept deeply, for my Grandmother had passed last year, and I hadn't known why it hadn't occurred to me.
They weighed Pearl Francesca in at 9 lbs. even. Our earliest, and biggest baby yet! She truly was kicking ass!
We called Franklin. He was hungover, but he had done it! The Cool Uncle had picked up all the kids, and was safely enroute to school. "TEAM GIRL!" I screamed! He cheered! All the kids were in the car and cheered in celebration along with us. PEARL FRANCESCA! They shouted.
"It's like she has always been here" I said to Phil. "She has" he said.
At around 9:00A.M. we all fell asleep peacefully together in the same bed, after successfully nursing.
We woke up around 2:00 P.M, on her birthday November 11/20, and headed home.
She was perfect.
At 4P.M. the kids came home from school to meet their sister for the first time.
Lucas wouldn't come to touch his sister for another 2 weeks... but that is because he was truly in awe of her.
Finally, we were a family of 7. Through all of our Prophecy, Pain, and Unbridled Joy, we were complete. A family of SEVEN!
That night, we had her first birthday party. Every doubt I had every had, was gone forever. I am so thankful that our God is Sovereign, and even when I had doubted, he has worked everything together for His Good! Thank you JESUS for PEARL FRANCESCA!
Click on the link below to see Pearl blow out her very first Candle on her Birth Day!
