By Ken Craig
Since Desert Saints Magazine is a safe place, where we don’t judge each other, I think I feel secure enough here to admit something to you: When I asked Katie to marry me, it was completely selfish. Whew, I feel better having said that.

I was very much in love with Katie. I loved her laugh, I loved her big eyes, I loved her spiritual depth and sensitivity. Most of all, I loved how I felt about myself and life in general when I was with her. But in the foolishness of my youth, I never considered the impact she would have on our children, as their mother.

Imagine my pleasant surprise to find that Katie has an incomparable understanding and testimony of her role as a woman and individual in this world, and absolutely delights in being a mom. Plus, candidly, she is exceptional at it. And that is never more abundantly clear to me than when she is giving birth, which she has done six times.

Case in point: the birth of our last child, Rebecca. Now, you should know up front that Katie births our children at home, with a midwife. You should also know that I am not the one that convinced her to do this. And finally, you should know that if you have personal objections to home births, we aren’t really interested in hearing them.

It was a beautiful summer day when Rebecca joined our family. Beginning around 6:30 a.m., Katie started having extremely mild and completely irregular contractions. This continued through the early afternoon, when some old college friends of ours, who were in town for the weekend, brought lunch over.

Katie was feeling so great, she was able to be social and showed no signs of ever being uncomfortable. She would still have the occasional contraction, but these were the most gentle and docile contractions ever recorded, according to Katie. The contractions weren’t getting any harder and they weren’t getting any closer. They didn’t seem to be progressing at all! I could have had these contractions, and I have a very low tolerance for pain.

Around 2:30 p.m. Katie slipped out of mixed company, and into a quieter room. The rest of us were on the couches, chatting. Katie called for me and said, “Can you come in here for a second?”

I tried to open the door, but it was locked. “Can you unlock the door?” I asked.

“Nope,” she answered.

“Well, we’re going to get going,” said our college friends, fleeing from the house with record speed.

I picked the lock and opened the door to see my cute, sweet wife looking back at me intently. “My water broke,” she said.
“Why don’t we call the midwife. I think we’re going to have this baby tonight.”

I had barely left the room and reached for the phone when I heard Katie yell for me again. This was a different yell, but a familiar one. This was a “For the love of heaven, get in here and catch this baby!” yell.

I opened the door, this time to find Katie having a baby. Her head was down, her eyes closed, her arms stretched around her front with her hands holding the bottom of her stomach.
She seemed remarkably peaceful. Focused. I have never known anybody to be able to understand her body like Katie.

The room seemed entirely still and silent. I was in complete
awe. It was the epitome of motherhood, to me. Pain, joy, hope, concern, relief, intuition, confidence and vulnerability, all at the same time. I felt honored to know Katie and be part of her life.

I ignored all male instincts about making a joke regarding me needing to find a baseball mitt, and I dropped down on my knees to catch the baby.

Katie started pushing and Rebecca slipped right into my arms. I held her so close and she wasn’t crying at all. I couldn’t believe I was holding her. We had waited so long for her.

Katie sat down on the couch and started nursing the baby right away. We cut the cord and waited for the midwife like it was the most normal, Saturday afternoon thing to do.

It does not require super-woman feats like birthing by herself for me to be absolutely and in every respect overcome with wonder at Katie. She is powerful, soft, and warm. She is beautiful, secure, and poised. She is the mother of my children. And they are so blessed for it.