My days being pregnant with my second baby, I think of so fondly.  Brady was everything to me in that time.  He had so far succeeded my expectations of a husband during that pregnancy.  He picked up the slack when my ever growing body couldn’t keep up to what it used to.  He listened to my endless conversations about our birth experience and my recent studies covering every aspect of the subject.  He went from class to class with me, completely letting me indulge my life into this aspect I had grown so close to.  He rubbed my back every single night.

I felt great during this pregnancy, so unlike my first.  I was so happy and grateful for everything.  My health, my family, my dear husband, there was so much to be thankful for.

The end of my pregnancy neared and I had all the hopes and signs for an early delivery.  When I watched my 38th, 39th and 40th week pass, I started giving in to the misery that comes in the last days of pregnancy. Brady’s patience for my moping was never ending.  He would call in the mornings to check on me, bring me lunch during his break and even schedule extra time in to just be with me.  On my due date, he took me out on a date and was ever-so-sensitive and sweet.  When I woke up one morning, after falling asleep to 5 hours of consistent contractions that seemed to have stopped, Brady held me while my tears of disappointment could no longer be held in.

The morning my water finally broke, Brady was back home within 10 minutes of my call.  We went out to lunch, stopped by Target again and got home just in time to put our 19 month old down for a nap which Brady took care of so I could lay down myself and get some rest.  Just minutes after he walked back into my room, my contractions started.

Just like he had trained for the event, Brady would automatically come right over to me, press on my hips and lower back and gently rub my back.  Without me even having to tell him, he knew exactly how to make me feel better, to get relief as my contractions peaked, and how to encourage me through the next one.

At one point during my labor, Brady stepped out for a second and my doula stepped in to push my tail bone and rub my back how Brady had been doing.  Immediately, I longed for his touch.  The second he came back, as nicely as I could during a contraction, swatted her hand away and said, “Brady, please!” He came to me and I immediately felt comfort.

Our entire labor was just Brady and I, doing our thing.  I was so surprised by how well he knew my body and my preferences in such a vulnerable time.  I felt so safe and secure near my strong husband.  I knew I could lean on him completely and somehow it was all going to be fine, that he had enough strength for the both of us to get us through our labor.

When I knew she was coming, Brady softly helped me over to the birthing area where all my favorite pillows and blankets were right near me.  I never asked for sure, but I’m almost positive Brady had something to do with that — knowing how important my pillows were to me at that time.  He laid right down beside me, his sweet words of encouragement as I was delivering our baby meant everything to me right then.  Time had seemed to almost stop for me to marvel at this man at my side.  He had gotten me through the hardest thing my body had ever had to do, with completely grace and ease.  He gave me nothing but loving support through my entire labor, and my entire pregnancy, and really, my entire life.  I felt so proud to be delivering our child.  The second life we had created together, right here in this very room.  I was so proud to be his wife.  The one he chose to spend his life with.

As I reached down to softly pull our child from my body, I felt as if God himself was placing her in my arms. Immediately the feeling that something was missing disappeared.  She was here!  Our Stella was here.  Of course it was her!  I knew her all long, it seemed.

I held her in my arms so overcome with joy and happiness, I couldn’t stop saying her name, “Stella! You’re here! Oh, my Stella!” while my husband happily wept into my shoulder.  We did it.  We really did it!

Later that day, Brady would recount our labor to our family and friends.  I’d overhear him saying, “your daughter is a champion!” to my mom, or “yep, she did it at home with NO drugs.  She was so tough, man!” to his friends on the phone.  He was so proud of me!  The thought gave me butterflies.  Somehow beyond my comprehension, my love for my darling husband grew again by the thousands that day.  I loved that man more than I knew was possible.    

Something happened that day, the day of our second daughter’s birth.  Something sacred and divine and something I can’t quite explain.  But we became a true family that day.  We realized our full potential as husband and wife, mother and father.  I realized that day how close we are to our Father in heaven, and how blessed we are to have these callings in life.  It’s as if everything in my life up until this point suddenly made perfect sense, and our future going forward was now crystal clear.

To this day, just after our 4th wedding anniversary and as we’re preparing to celebrate this child’s second birthday, I am still stunned by how much love I have for my husband and how grateful I am for our family.  Every positive aspect of my life, my girls, my work, my everyday enjoyments are directly attached to my Mr. Miller.  My life truly began the day he walked into my life and I am forever grateful to God for sending him my way.

It was important for me to write this story of us, for our daughters.  I hope that we model to them a healthy and loving marriage and that they too will seek guidance from God to help them throughout their life, and that they may find their perfect mate to spend their life with, as I have.  I know they are the luckiest girls alive to have Brady for a daddy, and I feel unimaginably blessed to be able to call him my husband.

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part one
part two
part three
part four