**If you missed “Part 1” "Part 2" and “Part 3” of me retelling some moments that occurred during the last six months of 2021, trust me, you want to read it! This blog post is a continuation of such.

Our insurance paid for us to stay in a hotel near our home and provided funds for food that went beyond any normal grocery costs.  

The day before we were set to go to the hotel to stay for one week, my husband came home from work with a FEVER.

“Not again,” I thought to myself.  It had been three months since my husband’s water fast which meant that it had also been three months since my husband’s sickness—the sickness that led him to the doctor’s office. With everything going on, I didn’t have as much empathy this time around.

I went in on my husband.

“Have you had any water today? Did you eat? Have you been taking your zinc and vitamin d3? What about those multivitamins I bought you? Ev, ev, ev….you can’t live off coffee. And you’ve been staying up late at night too. I make you so many vegetables and you go all day without eating. You can’t live off coffee forever,” I berated in frustration.  

It was the end of August and at this point, the Delta variant was sweeping its way across Memphis. I emailed my son’s teachers to let them know that my son wouldn’t be attending school until we all got tested in case my husband had Covid. My husband stood confident that it wasn’t Covid, considering how mild his sickness initially felt.

The next day, my husband,  two kiddos, and I all sat in a long drive-by testing site to get tested. Two hours later, we had our noses swabbed. (At-home antigen tests were not available during this time.)  

That night we packed up our bags, put on our masks, and checked into our small hotel room. My husband and I were both exhausted. From packing up our home and moving furniture aside for the workers to begin renovations, to packing up clothing and food for our stay, we were both tired. 

With only one month until my baby’s due date, the thought of eating takeout and not having to clean an entire home seemed nice. I looked forward to our mini staycation. I readied myself towards kicking up my feet and watching as much cable television as I’d like. 

That night I slept hard with each of my kiddos at my side. My husband decided to sleep on a pull-out couch to keep distance from us.  Around 2 AM, I got up to use the restroom. I checked on my husband who slept across the room. 

“Evan?” I lightly touched his back.

I lurched back in shock.

Water soaked through my husband’s entire shirt.  He was dripping in sweat, despite me keeping the room exceptionally cold. His fever had definitely gotten worse. I stripped him down and gave him a cold bottle of water and some meds.  He didn’t look well. 

I went back to sleep. 

In the wee hours of the morning, my husband shook me awake from a deep sleep that only a third trimester woman could experience. 

“I just got the email love. I tested Positive.  I’m going to go to my parent’s home to quarantine,” he said with a sense of urgency. 

I don’t know if I was more shaken at the news of my husband’s positive test or of the fact that my husband was about to leave me in a small hotel room… with two small kiddos…one month from my due date. 

The next few weeks tested me beyond what I thought possible. 

I learned patience. Complete dependence on God. Gratitude…even for the less than ideal scenarios. And how to pray short prayers. Constantly.

My husband quarantined for ten days at his parent’s home. In those ten days, my one-year-old daughter tested positive for Covid. Then my three-year-old son tested positive. And then I myself tested positive. Due to our hotel’s policy, my two kiddos and I couldn’t step foot outside of our hotel room. So my mother, mother-in-love, and sister dropped off groceries, diapers, and freshly washed clothes at our hotel door for two weeks. The renovations went longer than we anticipated. 

One night, while stuck in a less than 150 sq foot hotel room with two very busy children, I began to experience contractions. No, not Braxton Hicks. But contractions. From 11:00PM to 4:00 AM, I had contractions every hour.

At this point, I broke down crying. I texted my very wise and Godly doula. She assured me and told me to try to sleep and not to worry. I was full-term (i.e. 37 weeks pregnant) at this point and had no reason to stress. 

But I was not about to have my baby in a hotel room. I was not about to have a natural birth, while also recovering from COVID. 

I took some magnesium and pleaded with God.

“Lord, I don’t know what Your Will is but I don’t want to have a baby right now. Not like this, Lord. Not like this.” 

My contractions stopped completely (Praise the Lord!).

I stayed in the hotel room for a few more days since our renovations were still not done. 

At this point, I felt my body beginning to go under. Chasing two kids around while pregnant and while recovering from Covid began to tax my body. I knew that I needed to leave that hotel room.

I was eating takeout and hadn’t had the luxury of breathing in fresh air from outside. I strongly felt that if I didn’t do something, things would take a turn in a less than satisfactory direction. 

I went to sleep one night and felt the Lord speak. I needed to leave the hotel. 

My mom knew I had reached my limit. Despite my kiddos having only quarantined for 7 days (at this point the CDC recommended 10 days of quaranting) she offered to take the kiddos home with her so I could rest. My mother-in-love offered for me to stay in she and her husband’s home since my husband had recovered. So I packed up my bag and went to stay at my in-loves home. My husband packed up his bags and went to stay in our hotel room until the renovations were completed on our home.

I felt better within a matter of days. Being in quarantine proved to be the best vacation to date for this stay-at-home mom and introvert. Due to not having to care for my precious kiddos, I slept, ate home-cooked meals (served and delivered at my door by my AMAZING mother-in-love), watched HGTV, and took many walks outside alone.

My kiddos ended up staying with my mom for one week before we all moved back into our newly renovated home.

When I stepped inside our home and saw the renovations, I couldn’t believe that what I had prayed for over a year actually happened.

It took me another five days to get the house back in order-exactly to my liking. (At this point I was past my due date.) 

After feeling satisfied with our home, I went to sleep one night and thought to myself, “Okay Lord, I’m ready to have this baby now.” 

Elena Grace Stephens came 12 hours later, in the comforts of our home. 

Y’all. God. Is. Just. That. Good.

But, actually.