Ode to Being a Mommy

Not really. I don't think I even know what an ode is.

Well, all my fears were lived out. From induction to c-section. All the unknowns that terrified me were part of my 15 hour production, and I survived. Plus, we have an incredibly prize for all of our work.

We arrived at the hospital around 8pm. Hospital policy: All pregnant ladies must ride in a wheelchair. (Slightly humiliating. They do know that pregnant women aren't sick or broken, right?) Then, into our room-put on the open-backed gown, get in the IV, hook on the bracelets, hear lots of information that you can't remember, and get into the bed.

In goes the cytotec, and my water breaks at 2am. That's when the contractions get very noticeable. Oh my, did they get noticeable. However, beginning as they did made the pain more easily manageable. The progression wasn't terrible. Plus, my hubby was right there with me, helping me manage my pain and relax.

Pitocin began around 5 am. Not as horrible as I anticipated, because my nurse began the drip at a low level. It wasn't "0 to suck in like 30 minutes" as I expected. No complaint there.

Labor is progressing well. Expectation is Caleb should arrive around lunchtime. The midwife on-call came by at one point. She was not what I expected or desired for labor. Lunchtime comes, and I haven't dilated enough.

Later, same verdict. For many more hours, same verdict-not yet at 10 cm. Stayed at 9.5 cm for a couple of hours. One little part of my cervix wouldn't cooperate.

Finally, I reach 10 cm. The midwife is called and takes 45 minutes to get here. All the while, she doesn't want me to push. Horrible, horrible pain. Excruciating pain. At least, that's what I assume, since I remember saying repeatedly to my hubby and our nurse, "Please. I can't do this anymore. He's not coming." Contractions are rough, but when you are able to push, there's relief.

After pushing for about an hour and a half, the midwife checks me and sees that Caleb is: turned sideways and too far back to be turned manually. She calls the doctor. (I've never seen this man before in my life, and I had hoped I never would.) He makes the call: "This baby isn't coming, and we need to do a c-section....words...mumble...jumble...words." I didn't listen or care.

I was numb at that point. I felt like dying and couldn't respond to anyone. My hubby would say, "I love you." I just sat there. The nurses would ask a question, and I could only nod or shake my head. I didn't feel like I'd failed as a mom, but I was hurting and terrified and wanted them to just get Caleb out.

Spinal anestesia, a sterile white room with bright lights and blue colored barriers everywhere, everyone in scrubs including my hubby, and Caleb was here in 15 minutes.

I needed to blog my story before it all faded into my memory. God is smart. (Understatement.) Women have hormones that help us forget all the pain. Otherwise, no one would ever procreate more than once. The one thing I hope doesn't ever fade is the sound of Caleb's first cry. It was the most beautifully heart-breaking sound.

They took him from my belly, and I heard his little whimpering cry. I burst into tears. I had never heard a more perfect sound. I couldn't see him, and my hubby was called over to cut his umbilical cord. It was lonely on my side of the blue barrier. Soon, though, my hubby brought him to me, and I got to kiss his little face and smell him. Oh, perfect bliss!

I was taken to a room to recover, and my hubby went to the nursery to help prepare Caleb to come to our room, and we've been learning to play "family" ever since.

All this is the physical rundown of what happened yesterday. Soon I'll need to blog the emotions. Perhaps, tomorrow. I'll have time, since there's a nursery here who can take care of Caleb whenever it's needed.

As I think back on what we'd planned and hoped for, and how nearly everything that could go wrong, did, I think of what King Solomon wrote: The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps. (Proverb 16:9) We planned and prepared, and God's path was different than ours. It was His perfect will that prevailed, and somehow it's for our good and to His glory.

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts,

neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth,

so are my ways higher than your ways

and my thoughts than your thoughts."

(Isaiah 55:8-9 ESV)

So is this what the garden felt like?

And [Jesus] said to [his disciples], “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death. Remain here and watch.” And going a little farther, he fell on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. And he said, “Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.”

(Mark 14:34-36)

I cannot empathize with a king. I have no idea what it's like to be glorious and majestic, seated on a throne. I cannot imagine being the Eternal King of heaven and giving up Your glory, Your throne, Your God-ness to come down to earth and die.

I cannot empathize with a homeless man. I always have food and a home and clean clothes to wear. I cannot imagine being the Eternal King come down to be born in a cow trough, homeless, hated by most, pursued unto death, especially death on a cross.

From my vantage point, I could not help or counsel or even sympathize with Jesus as He cried and prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane. Yet, the opposite is true. Because Jesus suffered tremendously before going to His death, He empathizes with me.

Tonight will be spent at the hospital. They'll give me a cervical softener every four hours while we wait. Our hope is that it will cause my body to begin labor on its own, so that no induction is needed. Otherwise, they'll induce me early Thursday morning.

I'm afraid of the drugs and the hospital atmosphere and the pressure to "speed things up." I'm afraid of the pain and being unable to bear it, since Pitocin is brutal. I'm afraid of possibly having a C-section.

I'm sad because I wanted to labor at home for a while. I wanted Caleb to come on his own and not be "forced" out. However, I have to trust the midwife. (It's Vicki, and I don't really even know her.) I'm sad to leave the puppies here alone all night. I'm sad that this just isn't turning out like I planned.

So I go to Jesus. He wept and prayed and wept and prayed that He wouldn't have to go to the cross. "And going a little farther he fell on his face and prayed, saying, 'My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.'"

He was terrified. Of the excruciating pain? Of the humiliation? Of the unknown? All of it? He was sad. Because so many people would still reject salvation? Because Judas had to fulfill the OT scriptures? I don't know these answers. I only know that he was afraid and hurting.

My God can empathize with me. "For it was fitting that he, for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering. For he who sanctifies and those who are sanctified all have one source. That is why he is not ashamed to call them brothers..." (Hebrews 2:10-11)

He left all His eternal glory to know exactly what it's like to be human. He empathizes with me in my fear and doubt and uncertainty. Yet, He shows me how to be afraid and unsure without sinning. "Not as I will, but as you will."

Lord, these next few days may be a cross for me to bear. They may be everything I fear or not. (Jesus knew He had to fulfill God's written will. Nothing's written about my labor and delivery. All may turn out differently.) So Father in heaven, I pray with Jesus, "My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will." I can look to the (hoped but not promised) prize on the other side of this--a little baby boy, and endure the pain. Lord, give me sufficient grace. Remind me in the morning that your mercies are new every day. I love you and will walk with you through anything. In Jesus' holy and empathetic Name, Amen.

"...let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God." (Hebrews 12:1b-2)

Tornado Watch Until 11-No Walking with Carrie C.

Short rundown: Caleb's fine. Non-stress test said so. Teeny bit of dilation as of last Tuesday. Just waiting now. No reason he won't come, other than he's content and in no rush. Today at 3:30 I have another appointment. If I'm not in labor by then, they'll schedule an induction.

That last word terrifies me. In my mind there's a list of pro's and con's to being induced. Other than the chance of Caleb staying in my belly too long, the risks far outweigh the pro's. I don't know what to do.

I was praying this morning about all of this-my fears and uncertainties surrounding labor and delivery. I was confused, because God's Word says to not trust in man, but without a clear answer from the Lord, I only have people to trust-my midwives and doctor.

So here I am, walking by faith. This afternoon, I'll schedule my induction for the latest possible time this week. Perhaps Caleb will make his appearance before then. Right now, I'm making a list of Scriptures for Donny to read to me during labor and delivery to help me focus and relax. I don't want anymore interventions than necessary from others.

"Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong." ~2 Corinthians 12:8-10

Tomorrow's the Due Date, whatever that means...

I understand that due dates are usually subjective. Neither the midwives nor we know exactly when Caleb was conceived. We weren't doing anything special pertaining to the time of day or phase of the moon. We were just working on making a baby at some point. Therefore, my due date of November 9th is a little arbitrary. He'll come when he's ready, assuming there are no complications.

I saw my midwife this morning, and no dilation. This morning was the first time I felt a little uneasy and worried. I don't want to be chemically induced. I don't want the doctors and nurses to do anything but help me deliver my baby. In theory I'm going to be very flexible and be okay with whatever needs to be done. At the same time, I know I'll be disappointed if things do go how I hope.

I go back Friday for a "No Stress" test and to "check my fluids." I don't really know what either of those mean, except that if Caleb's in no distress and my "fluids are normal," then he can stay on the Mommy Ride a little longer. If there is a problem...I'm not sure what will happen next.

Lord, I can't fret over things I can't change. You're in complete and perfect control in all of this. Give me grace to do Your will and the joy and peace that come from obedience. I love you. In Jesus' Name. Amen.

"O LORD, my heart is not lifted up;

my eyes are not raised too high;

I do not occupy myself with things

too great and too marvelous for me.

But I have calmed and quieted my soul,

like a weaned child with its mother;

like a weaned child is my soul within me."

Psalm 131:1-2