He will see to it

Every woman has her own fears about childbirth, and I suspect that for most women, they increase with every additional pregnancy.  After I gave birth, all I could think about was what would happen the next time- VBAC, with its risk of failure, ruptured uterus, and slight chance of death; or repeat c-section with its risks of placental previa, ectopic pregnancies, cystectromy., and slight risk of death.  I agonized over this hypothetical next time for several months. 

Once my shock wore off, I stopped googling, and I realized just how foolish I'd been.  After all, when we stopped using birth control, it was because we trusted that our merciful God would take care of our family.  How foolish then, to assume that he would stop caring for us just because my sin-worn body failed at a critical moment, and a doctor had to step in and save the life of me and my child.  How senseless, indeed, to presume that we would now be left to care for things on our own.  How selfish to imagine that my own existence would be vital to my family's perseverance.

It is much simpler to continue trusting his mercy, and believe that if he grants us more children, and we fervently pray that he will, he will see us through its accompanying trials, however grave or trivial.  For if the Lord has seen me safely thus far, far be it from me to think that even in death he would not care for his sheep.

The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup;

you hold my lot.

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.

I bless the Lord who gives me counsel;

in the night also my heart instructs me.

I have set the Lord always before me;

because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.

Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices;

my flesh also dwells secure.

For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol,

or let your holy one see corruption.
     Psalm 16:5-11

The Beginnings of Birth Pains

Know now that this is a quasi birth story.  "Quasi" in that I'm only recounting a portion of it, and none of it describes the actual delivery.  But it is a birth story nevertheless, and at no point do I ponder the miraculous nature of my son's arrival, but rather, the despair I felt leading up to it, and immediately following.  Read if you wish.



I remember very little of my experience in the hospital after the birth of my son.  I'm sure it has something to do with the anaphylaxis I experienced shortly after the emergency c-section.  That is, I think it was shortly after the c-section, but the timeline of events in my head often doesn't line up with what I know to be true. What I do recall most vividly are all the confusing and terrifying moments- throwing up all over myself and the bed, then submitting to the mercy of the kind nurses to clean me up; feeling my neck stiffen, my tongue swell, and hearing my speech begin to slur; falling asleep watching my husband give my son a bottle because I was physically unable to stay awake to nurse him; waking up and hearing my doctor say I probably wouldn't be able to give birth naturally.

Perhaps the most distinct memory is driving the four-mile stretch of road between our house and hospital while in labor.  Feeling my body catch fire as each contraction ripped across my abdomen, then sinking in cold when it finally passed. Noticing that we caught all the red lights on the way, and cursing the Streets and Roads Committee who placed four-way stops at every intersection in town.  Wanting desperately to arrive some place where someone could do something to stop all the pain I was feeling.  There was no glory in this ride, no happy thoughts about the child that would be, no bearing my pains with patient endurance.  There was just the abiding pain, the fear of death, and realization of my own weakness.

I get to relive this drive every Sunday on the way to church, and the way home.  All the while, I can't help but think this is what brings forth new life- this disarming pain, and this crippling fear. Should God see fit to grant us more children, this is what it will take.  I doubt I will ever be prepared to face that drive again, save for the mercy of God.

Kyrie, eleison.

The Illusion of Control

The woman who finds her body torn by yet another child, the woman who longs to feel her womb fill with life, and her breasts grow heavy with milk, and the woman who grieves for the life she carried, but lost too early; these women know that infertility treatments and contraception only give us the illusion of control, but it is the Lord who giveth and the Lord who taketh away. And with them I say, "Blessed be the name of the Lord."

Seen this yet?

Jealousy strikes again

While sitting through the Christmas Eve service, I noticed I was becoming increasingly skeptical of the hymns we were singing, and rather jealous of the Holy Mother.  In most every song, the Baby Jesus is portrayed as the perfect sleeper. Mary sings a lullaby as he rocks on her lap, puts him down on a pile of hay in a manger, and they all sleep in heavenly peace. Sure, the cattle and their lowing wake the poor kid, but he doesn't cry.  He doesn't wake his mother and make her hold him or insist on sleeping in her bed.  He puts himself back to sleep.

Maybe you have a kid like that.  I am not so fortunate.  In fact, while I was attending this late service, my son was at home with a babysitter watching Cars. He was supposed to be sleeping.

Perhaps when he leaves for college, I'll finally get a good night's sleep. Until then, you can probably find me rolling my eyes at all those sentimental Christmas melodies, and secretly wishing I knew what Mary knew about putting kids to sleep.