The Birth of Justice

April 23, 2010,  11:34AM

8lbs, 2oz, 21 inches long

  Due date had arrived and no sign of baby.  I was fine with it, considering I'd come down with a cold earlier in the week and hadn't been sleeping much.  I knew I needed my rest and to be well before the strenuous event of birth and beginning life with a newborn again.  Plus, I've never wanted to have a baby early, I want them to be completely formed and ready.  Although this time I had grown increasingly uncomfortable over the last few weeks.

  I decided to take the kids to pick strawberries in the morning with some friends.  I thought I should take the opportunity while I had the chance, big belly and all!  The berries were beautiful and huge and it only took a short time.  The remainder of the day I tried resting as much as one can with two energetic boys, but never got a nap.  I had decided that I would go to bed really early that night to try to get a full night's sleep.  After one night of awesome sleep, I thought, I'll feel ready to have this baby. 

  About 9pm, I took a Tylenol PM to ensure I could get a full night's rest and not be disturbed by the cold or anything else.  I lied down to go to sleep.  I slept hard for about an hour, and woke at 10:30 to my husband wanting to know if I had given my older son his antibiotic that night (he was being treated for strep throat).  At first, I saw two of him, then I slowly figured out there was only one husband standing there.  Finally realizing what question he was asking me, I answered it, and then told him I was angry he woke me up to ask me that.  I got up to go to the bathroom and my body started cleaning out.  "Uh oh," I thought, but decide to put it out of my mind and go lie down. 

  Lying in bed, now I can no longer breathe through my nose.  I get up to go in the living room and remind my husband just in case he forgot that I was ticked he woke me up for that, even though it was important.  I lie back down, another diarrhea cramp.  Back to the bathroom.  And from then on it was lie down,  try to breathe, feel settled, have a light contraction, back up to the bathroom.  After about an hour of this I realized labor may not be far off.  I keep trying to put it out of my mind because I know I need sleep either way.  Still, sleep wouldn't come.  More diarrhea, and a couple light contractions.  My husband came to bed and rubbed my shoulders and prayed over me, I thought about trying to sleep right there up against him.  I'm staying hydrated and drinking a lot of water.  I got relaxed, but then lied down and couldn't breathe out of my nose.  Not even propped on a pillow. 

  Around 2am, as I'm lying in bed, I feel the baby shift and drop into position as a contraction comes on.  It jars me and I'm vocalizing at this point because it was so strong, I had to get out of bed and stand to get through it.  His head dropped so low, it felt as if he would come right out!  From then on, the contractions significantly increased in strength.  They were far apart - 10-15 minutes.  Not very consistent, but with each I had to stand up, put my hands on the door frame and lean into them.  I thought to myself , "These feel too strong to be early labor."  And I'm also thinking, "I am running on 1 hour of sleep, a cold, and Tylenol PM - this is crazy timing!" 

  About 3am, I decide to call the midwife and see if she had any suggestions for relaxing and actually getting a little sleep.  At this point I'm jittery and shivering between contractions.  After getting off the phone with her, I decide to drink a tiny bit of wine in hopes it will help me relax enough to get a little nap.  After the wine, I lie down, feeling relaxed and no longer jittery, but frustrated with not being able to breathe through my nose still!  I try just breathing through my mouth, staying relaxed, and of course...on comes another contraction and its up off the bed again.  And more diarrhea.  I'm letting my husband sleep knowing he needs it, so this part is tough for me because I feel so alone in the dark of the night.  Still trying to sleep, but no success.

  Contractions settle into about 10 minutes apart and are increasing in strength.  I am able to lay down and rest in between, wanting to at least doze but not quite able to make it to sleep.  But just resting feels good.  My husband decides to call the midwife back about 5am and update her.  She lives right in the neighborhood so we thought she could come check me out and then go back home if need be.  I'm shaking again between contractions, and she encourages me to eat something (which I feared doing for the chance of more diarrhea, but decided to take her advice).  She comes over about 5:30.  The baby is nice and lined up on my left side.  She checks my cervix and reports 3-4 centimeters, 90% effaced, and needing to tilt just a slight bit more.  I ask her why the contractions are so strong considering my dilation and space between and she said his head was "right there" at station +1.  She encouraged me that my dilation mattered little, my body was being efficient and it would come in time. 

  My husband and her go to setting up the birthing pool, making the bed, setting up the supplies while I continue to rest between contractions.  I had called my sister right after calling the midwife, and she arrives around 7:30am.  The kids are up and Nick's fixing breakfast, my sister is helping.  I sat in one living room by myself for a while, relaxing on the couch during breaks and standing up for contractions. I ate some breakfast, and then I decided to go sit with the midwife and my sister.  Still resting and sitting in between, but with each contraction I got up and walked/danced down the hallway, grabbed a door frame, and danced through the rest with my legs.  Immense pressure, I'm even needing to moan some at this point.  My mp3 player that I have bugged in my ears is helping. 

  Contractions are increasing in strength but still far apart, and after expressing my frustration to the midwife, she continues to encourage me that this is fine, my body is being very efficient with each contraction, and I need to take advantage of it and rest in between.  So I do.  The assistant had arrived not long after my sister, and she and my sister switch off massaging my shoulders between a couple contractions.    Around 8:30, "Grandma Chris" gets to the house to help with the kids.  I'm getting in the zone, even though contractions are very spaced out.  Josiah watches intently as I'm in the hallway dancing through and hanging onto the door frames, trying to get my attention, "Hey Mommy!"  A few times he ran up to hug me and kiss my belly.  My husband asked Chris to take the kids away from the house for just a couple hours, which I'm thinking is a great idea.  Still wanting them to be back for the birth, but I know he realizes that. 

  After that, I ask my husband to hold me against him while I stand in the hallway, and I break down sobbing - feeling sleep deprived, discouraged, still battling in my mind the timing of the whole thing.  He told me he had been praying all morning and felt the Lord was saying, "My power is made perfect in your weakness."  I'm leaning into my husband, leaning into the Lord, and trusting His power at work within me....  Letting go, telling myself this is the perfect timing for this birth, just let it happen in its time.  I have no idea the time of day from this point on because I'm not referencing the clock anymore.

  My midwife says I can get into the pool if I'm ready.  The contractions have gotten a little closer.  I decide that would be wonderful and relaxing, hoping it doesn't slow things down but at this point not caring too much if it does.  The water feels inviting and relaxes me.  My sister, husband and I pray and agree that this baby is coming before afternoon naptime because I know with the growing intensity of the contractions I'm wearing down and I'm ready to take a nap! 

  Contractions continue increasing in intensity but are still spread out, and I experiment with different positions in the pool to help me yield through them, and ways to rest between.  I'm doing whatever feels good to me.  At one point, the midwife assistant commented on my "froggy" position of floating on my belly and flaring my legs out like a frog.  The midwife gives pressure on my back and steady’s my hips as I am in this position and she notices the immense pressure I'm feeling. 

  I finally feel as though like I'd like to know more clearly of my progress, and I ask the midwife to check me.  She does and asks if I'd like to know.  I said, "Only if its encouraging."  She says, "You're 8 centimeters, is that encouraging?" To which I shout "Woohoo!" and am elated that the end is near.  She tells me to just let her know when my water breaks, and I'm praying it does quickly. 

  I decide to float around a lot during contractions, loving the fact the pool is big enough for me to do this.  Stuffy from the cold, I comment once on how much it would help if I could breathe out of my nose with the contractions!  My husband gets in the pool with me and helps support my body as I float on my side, I'm feeling very weak and tired.  Still having nice breaks between contractions, but the crampy feeling now sticks around so its hard to rest.   I comment on how weak I feel, and the midwife encourages me to eat something and offers one of her protein bars.  Chocolate almond brownie or something with dates.  I say the one with dates, and as a contraction is coming on my husband says, "She only eats brownies with ice cream," and I tell him to "shut up" nicely and then right as I'm peaking he asks if I want him to hold me and I say, "No talking!" as I'm grabbing onto the side of the pool and breathing/vocalizing through. 

  I take a bite of the protein bar after coming down, and can't finish chewing before the next contraction, so I pull it out of my mouth and throw it on the floor.  At this point, I'm vocalizing loudly and I feel like a fish, flopping back and forth and trying to "swim" away from the contraction.  My midwife (who has remained very laid back and quiet) gets in my face and says, "Don't run from it Melissa, let go, let it do its job, you're right at the end."  Amazing wisdom in this statement!  I know this.  I tell people this.  But knowing it and actually yielding when you are in it are two different things. 

  So with the next contraction, I stay floating on my side while my husband supports me and I yield.  It felt better to give in this time.  And shortly after comes another contraction.  The intensity is immense and I float to one side and say, "I feel like I need to push!" and as the midwife says, "Trust your body Melissa" I feel all the force of my body pushing mostly involuntarily and the baby's head come out.  The midwife wasn't expecting it to go that quickly, and comments that he's still in his bag of waters.  I reached down and felt his head - halfway out and in his bag of waters still.  Amazing!  She comments, "One more contraction and he'll be out and in your arms."  So I sit back against my husband, waiting for the next contraction to come, feeling all the incredible sensation of his head already being mostly out. 

  We waited for a couple minutes but it seemed like an eternity.  I actually with the slip of the tongue said, “Can you take him out?”  Here it comes...  I push with all I have left and feel all of him come out of me, the midwife catches and supports him underwater.  He had finally broken out of his bag of waters as he came all the way out!  She says, "Reach down and pull your baby up" and so I do.  I lift him to my chest, and lean back against my husband.  Oh the sense of joy, relief, exhaustion!  Welcome baby Justice!  Divine Justice!  Thank You God for Your strength in my weakness!  I get dried off and into my bed to rest, ready to nurse and enjoy my new baby. 

  Giving birth doesn't fit into a box.  I'm blessed my contractions were spread out the entire time so that I could rest and be ready to deliver!   One midwife didn't make it in time for the birth, because her last update said the expected delivery time would be closer to dinner time.  The kids didn't quite make it back in time either, they arrived about 10 minutes later to the sound of a baby crying.  It took us all by surprise! This labor was half the time of my others.  And I did it at home!  I loved not having to travel during labor.  It felt wonderful being in my house with my couches and bathroom and food...  I love how I didn't have to be checked to know I was ready to push, my body knew when I was ready.  Yes, I had a cold and was seriously sleep deprived, but what a graciously awesome birth!  It was peaceful, safe, and oh so blessed. 

  There can definitely be exceptions with risk levels of pregnancies, but this is what birth is like when we trust that our bodies were perfectly created to carry and bring forth new life.  This can be done in a hospital, at home, in a birth center, wherever.  I had an amazing hospital birth with my second baby.  Although, now that I've had a home birth I can say I'm a believer in it, that's what I prefer, and I wouldn't do it any other way.  Birth doesn't have to be scary, it doesn't have to be controlled, it doesn't have to make you feel like you're going to die.  Its tremendously intense, but the intensity need not be feared.  In fact, fear is the very thing that feeds pain.  Birth a natural part of life that follows no set pattern among any two women, or any two births!  I feel honored and privileged to be a woman, as we are the vessels God specifically designed to bring forth new life on the earth.  Birth is beautiful.

A hidden treasure for the postpartum period

Its been a long time since I've written on this subject.  I did apologize in advance if I jumped around a bit :)

I don't know much about history.  That was actually my worst subject in grade school, and in college I managed dodge it by taking Geography 101 with an "easy A" teacher (wasn't good in geography either but I got an A!).  But I know there was this period in history termed "The Dark Ages."  Well, that felt like my life a few years ago.

I wrote in some previous posts about my bout with postpartum depression.  There was a period of a couple months where I walked through the deepest darkness I've experienced in my life.  I never understood depression and those who suffered from it, until I faced it myself.  It is not something you can snap yourself out of.  I wanted to escape it, but I didn't know how.

I plan to blog more about it because I feel more healing and revelation is to come for me.  And if anything I write can somehow reach and encourage other women, then its worth it.  So I had the ppd with baby number 2.  When I became pregnant the third time, I "knew" long before I took a test or was ready to believe I was pregnant.  I received a lot of encouragement from the Lord and from friends & family that this time would be different.  It was one of those things I had to "choose" to trust and believe because it sure didn't come natural.

At my first appointment, I sat on the bed talking to my midwife and divulged my past experience with depression in the postpartum period.  "Oh, there's a way to prevent that."  She says.  Oh boy, I was all ears!  An opportunity to experience joy in mothering a baby and not have to be on medication that takes away from who I am.  I leaned in for the cure.  "You can ingest your placenta."  SAY WHAT?!  When I was a kid, I saw one of my dogs give birth to her litter and then eat the placenta, but I had never heard of humans doing it.  I didn't say that to my midwife, but I did ask her to elaborate.  She handed me a brochure about placenta benefits and it explained that though some people may actually eat their cooked (or raw) placentas, I could have mine encapsulated after the birth to take in pill form.  Okay, that was a little easier to swallow.  But really the more I thought about it, the more I thought I didn't care if I had to throw a raw piece of it into a smoothie, I would try anything to not have to walk through the hell I did with my last baby.

And I followed through and encapsulated my placenta (well I have to give credit to my sister and husband because they actually did it), and it worked!  That combined with some other factors helped me experience feeling emotionally and hormonally balanced as I mothered my new baby. I was full of energy, and felt like myself. Yes there were bad days and we had some bumps in the road with nursing, but I could sense when I was starting to go downhill and knew what to do to get myself back up.  I ENJOYED my baby, for the first time in 3 times.  I fell in love with him.  I took joy in him.  I LOVED nursing him and changing his diaper and comforting him when he was crying.  I had a clear mind and didn't doubt my decisions.  I felt confident in my ability to mother my kids and not overwhelmed.

Check out the Placenta Benefits website for articles on placenta encapsulation.  There are so many benefits to this (even if you are not at risk for ppd), and tons of research that's been done to support it.  Also if you live in Wilmington, check out www.placentaworks.com- they offer services in preparing and encapsulating your placenta for you. Also you can find them on  Facebook.

The Bella Band Betrayal

We take ourselves way too seriously sometimes.  With life going one hundred miles an hour and feeling the weight of being responsible for little human beings.  That's why I really appreciate the moments in life like I'm about to share with you.  This embarrassing moment has been a well-kept secret for a couple years.  But today I woke up and decided to share it because its rainy outside, I need a good laugh, and I think its time to let it out. 

Okay, here goes.  Deep breath.....

You know those "bella bands?"  A 1st-2nd trimester woman's best friend.  Maybe you could wear it farther into your pregnancy, but I didn't discover them until my third time and came out of my jeans fast, even with the band. Those of you who don't know, its a stretchy band that allows you to wear your normal size jeans unzipped all the way down.  It holds your undone pants up.  You just pull your jeans up as high as you can around your hips, cover the unzipped part with the band, and pull your shirt down over.  Voila!  You still can wear your non-maternity jeans!

I felt amazing with this thing on.  I could wear my favorite "Lucky" brand jeans, feel comfortable from the stretchiness around my belly, and feel like I was looking good.  The bella band was my best friend.  Until the day it betrayed me....

I love to dance.  It makes me feel free and alive.  I am part of a church that has an awesome worship/music component and encourages and gives people the freedom to express themselves during worship through dancing, painting, etc.  So most Sundays, I dance during worship.  The only place where there is space enough is in the front.  So its been a good place for me to let go of caring what others think and just dance my heart out for Jesus.  I danced up until the week I went into labor with my last baby!  Dancing is really good for pregnant women.

Anyway, one particular Sunday, I was wearing my beloved bella band.  Felt like I wanted to dance, so I did.  I really went for it. Spinning, jumping, twirling...  And suddenly I felt a draft!  I realized that, not only was my shirt pulled up over my bulging belly, my bella band had slid up with it as well.  There, in front of the church, with my jeans zipped down all the way.  I don't remember what underwear I had on that day; I hope no one else does either.  So I ran to the bathroom and fixed my pants, and laughed by myself, at myself.  I was mortified but humored at the same time. I doubted anyone had seen me.  Most of the time people keep their eyes clothes anyway, right? I convinced myself that the likelihood of someone watching and seeing it happen had to be low.  I very discretely walked out of the bathroom and back to my seat, to find my husband: speechless with a terrified look on his face.  I didn't have to ask if he had seen it.  "I was about to walk up there and grab you!"  He was more uptight about it than I was!  We laughed about it all afternoon.

In the end, the few I asked didn't see it happen. And if anyone did, they didn't tell me.  I will forever remember that day as my most embarrassing pregnant moment, my most embarrassing moment in church, my most embarrassing moment in front of a large group of people, well, pretty much my most embarrassing moment yet.  And I learned a valuable lesson.  If you are going to dance, do not put your trust in a bella band.  It will let you down.

The Silliest Form of Competition

Competition.  We all have struggled with it at one time or another.  But the silliest struggle with competition I've seen is when we compete about who has it the worst.  Can you guess what the majority of the arguments in my marriage have been about in the past few years?  Finances?  Nope, that may be top in the statistics but in our marriage.  Sex?  Well, maybe its a contender, but again, not like statistics say.  We argue about who has the largest burden to bear.  Who does the most work.  Who had the crappiest day.  I'm just being real here.  If we're going to compete about something, we could at least compete about who has it the best and who had the greatest thing happen in a day! 

Why do we do that as humans?  When someone is frustrated with there season in life, why do we wave ours over their head as if ours is worse?  What ever happened to "rejoice with those who rejoice, and mourn with those who mourn?"  When you were in the end of your pregnancy and not sleeping at night, did you ever share that with someone just to hear them say, "Well wait until the baby comes out, then you won't sleep at all!"  All of us are in different seasons and situations and we cannot compare ourselves to each other because they are all so different!  I am convinced that EVERY season and situation has its challenges, no matter what it is. Singlehood, married with no kids, pregnancy, having a newborn, having more than one kid, stay at home mom, work at home mom, work away from the home mom, single parent, empty-nesters, grandparents, widows... We have to choose to focus on the good in them, or else we'll be depressed and miserable!  But when someone starts complaining about their season, why not just listen and encourage?

For those who share their hard times with others, maybe sometimes we want someone to feel sorry for us (I've been guilty of that).  But I think a lot of the time, we just want to know that someone else hears us.  We want to know someone else sees us in the battle.  We want be real.  At times we ask for advice, encouragement, hope... but its simply nice to know someone is listening.

What would happen if we started acknowledging each other, and speaking life into each other's situations instead of, "Well at least you don't have blah blah blah."  or "Just wait until bleh bleh bleh."  Hey, I've been on both sides so I'm the first to admit it.  Time to put all assumptions, comparisons, and judgment aside.  This life is really not about us.

"Let each of you esteem and look upon and be concerned for not [merely] his own interests, but also each for the interests of others."  Philippians 2:4

Fighting Negativity

As we are on the threshold of moving out of our house for a week to have our floors refinished, I'm fighting negativity.  I look through the living room at the many saws and hammers and air compressor and say to my 20 month old for the hundredth time "Get away from that!"  This is a new year, new season.  And just when I felt I was beginning the groove for the new year, I found out we'd have to be out of our house for a week.  NO!  That slows or pretty much stops my momentum on things!  And I really wanted us to start out the new year this past weekend resting, enjoying each other, making plans for this new season... but we spent it working.  Why am I not rejoicing in the fact that in a couple weeks we will have gorgeous floors?  Because all I can see is work, inconvenience, break in my momentum, uncomfortability, and lots and lots of money being spent.

In my first post I talked about my Type A personality, well I'm also borderline pessimist.  I don't like labels and being put in a box, and I don't think I'm a Debbie Downer, but I think I have the tendency to see the glass half-empty.  Ouch that's hard to admit.  I love optimists, that's why I married one.  It causes a lot of arguments when we see things differently, but we also are helping each other become more balanced as we age.  I've wished myself to be optimist and tried, but it feels so fake!  Those who know me well know that whatever I feel is written all over my face, even if I'm not saying it!  I actually love that down-to-earthness about myself.  I like people to shoot me straight, and I do the same to others (although I don't know if they like it so much).  And so if I'm thinking and feeling negative on the inside, that's what comes out. In the whole nature/nurture argument, I believe that our attitudes/beliefs/behavior is a product of both.  We are all born with tendencies in personality/disposition, and the environment we grow up in also shapes and directs that.  With negativity, I have both of those strikes against me. I didn't ask for this dispositional pull, but I am responsible for what I do about it.

Something I've learned in life:  Someone always has it worse than you.  Someone always has it better than you.  There are negatives in every season and every moment of life, and there are positives too.  My attitude is not so much determined by my circumstances, but by my perspective of my circumstances. 
When we're single we wish we had someone to share life with.
When we're married, we long to go back to our independence.
Before we have kids, we envy those who do.
When we have kids, we envy the flexibility of those who don't.
When we're pregnant, we just want the baby to come out so we can sleep better and the swelling and morning sickness goes away. 
And when the baby is out, we think about how good we had it when we were pregnant and all the baby's needs were met on the inside, and even if we didn't sleep the greatest, at least we weren't being woken up to tend to the baby.
Before our kids learn to talk, we wish they could just talk and tell us what they want. 
After they can talk, we miss the quietness in our lives and want them to just give us 5 minutes to think.
And so on. 

There are two more things I want to say about all this.  First of all, it is okay to get it out.  All of us need people in our life who we can be real with and vent to about whatever.  I have just a couple people who know my heart and I trust will not judge me when I let it all hang out.  One of them is neither married nor a mother, but she can listen and remind me of the truth when I'm too distracted to see it.  And she can help me navigate through the junk.  And if there is anyone who I don't have to have it all together around its the Lord.  He already knows what's going on in my head anyway, nothing that comes out of my mouth surprises Him!  Nothing I say will change His view of me. I'm free to just let it go with Him. And He is indeed the one who gives me the deep down joy and love and ability to overcome this thing I hate.

Secondly, this is a fight I am winning and will continue to fight.  I used to be so negative (and very openly).  Especially the beginning of my marriage.  Its hard for those who don't have natural tendencies towards negativity to understand, but looking on the "bright side of things" does not come naturally or easy for me.  I have to work at it.  Those who've known me a long time know I've come a long way.  I want to keep changing.  I hate negativity.  I don't enjoy being around people who are always complaining about things. And I know people don't enjoy being around me when I'm like that.  Just ask my husband!

Some weeks I do better than others. Cold weather brings out the worst in me, so its been hard lately.  And when I'm feeling negative I've learned to bite my tongue. I'm reminded that every time I open my mouth, one of two things comes out - life or death.  Our words have the power to encourage those around us, and they also have the power to tear people down. Words have the power to change the countenance of others, even the course of their day.  I've seen this happen time and time again especially with my children, and my husband. 



Its a continual choice.  And though it is hard right now I'm choosing to watch my mouth and get my perspective into check!

Seeing Christmas With Fresh Eyes

I remember being pregnant with my firstborn, 6 years ago.  Around Christmas time I was 5 months pregnant and barely had a bump, but I "felt" pregnant.  I had been feeling the small movements of the baby and was treasuring this new awareness of life inside.  Christmas was suddenly so magical, really for the first time since being a child.  I was carrying a baby, and suddenly the scriptures about Jesus' birth took on a whole new meaning.

I was in awe of the faith and strength Mary had, to carry with confidence the child absent of an earthly father.  Engaged to a man, but not married.  A virgin.  Did anyone believe she was a virgin?  Probably not outside of her, Joseph, and her relatives who had gotten the news from an angel! For sure Joseph didn't believe her at first.  I can't imagine the shunning she suffered in that day for carrying a child as a non-married woman.  That was something women were stoned for.  As I sat in my room, reading the story for the hundredth time, I thought about how excited and welcomed my baby was.  By my family, by my friends, by every passerby that noticed the emerging bump...

Then, I kept reading.  Oh that's right, when it came time for her birth, she was traveling.  On a donkey!  She had the nesting urge just like every other woman.  And she couldn't do anything about it.  And when she went into labor, there was no where left for them to go have the baby.  Did her water break?  Did her contractions come suddenly or drag out over several days?  At what point in labor was she when they finally found somewhere to settle and have the baby?  The place of birth: a barn.  As I took all this in at that time in my life, and as I ponder it now, I am overwhelmed with tears.  She wasn't just carrying any baby, she was carrying the Son of God.  She was a human woman like me and you.  She had the same hormones and emotions.  And she gave birth to her son in a stable with animals and animal dung, and no one there to support her except her husband.  I know he was wonderful for her, but that was in the day where women in the extended family would come and support a woman as she was birthing.  She didn't have a veteran mom coaching her along.  No midwife.  No doctor. Who had to clean up the mess?  Birth is messy!  It was Joseph. And what did he use to clean it and where did he get it? 

The Bible doesn't talk much about Mary's feelings and behavior through this whole process.  I'm sure she had some major freak out moments.  Especially traveling on a donkey being pregnant and again postpartum with a nursing baby.  I wonder if she struggled with the baby blues the days, weeks, months after the birth?  Sure she struggled with wanting to do everything perfect as a mother.  Her child was to play the most important role of any man ever born!  But two things stick out to me from the scriptures. 

First off, when she conceived and went to visit her relative Elizabeth who was also pregnant, Elizabeth said the most amazing thing to her.  "Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of the things that were spoken to her from the Lord."  There's a difference between hearing something, and believing it.  After Elizabeth said that, Mary poured out her heart and adoration of the Lord, that He had chosen her for this!  And she was amazed at the road laid out before her! Secondly, after the birth it reports people finding out and being astounded at the news and that the shepherds had an encounter with an angel who told them where to go to see this baby Savior.  And Mary "was keeping within herself all these things, weighing and pondering them in her heart."  Remember doing that while holding your sleeping newborn baby?  Trying to soak it all in, that this baby that was once growing inside of you is now on the outside.  And you have been given charge to mother a human being who will one day be an adult contributing to society!  Mary was holding the Savior of the world in her arms.  She was chosen to mother him.  I can imagine the mix of amazement and fear.

Isolated from family and friends, with a husband who loved and believed in her, and with her faith in God whom she had heard and trusted, she endured the charge that was laid upon her.  Because she drew her strength from the Source.  So in the season of busyness and gift buying, wrapping, traveling, money spending, and family drama, take a moment to hold your baby (or belly) and recall this to mind.  Read the story with fresh eyes.

Everyone's Hero, or Maybe Not

Naturally, we want to be the best at things.  We expect that of ourselves.  We imagine in our minds how something is going to go, and many times are disappointed in ourselves (or others) for not meeting expectations.  When it comes to birth, every woman I've talked to had a birth that did not line up with the one that had "planned" in their mind.  Two of my three births were non-medicated.  Zero of my three birth went as I had hoped they would!

When I was pregnant with my first, I was determined to have a natural birth and hired a doula (tried to find a midwife and couldn't) and read books, talked to other women, did whatever I could to gear myself up to have an awesome birth experience and go natural.  Well, when I ended up with Pitocin and an epidural, I walked away feeling like a disappointment to myself, and a few others.  I had a vaginal birth, the baby and I were healthy, he was beautiful, there were no complications.  There was much to be thankful for, and I was.  But there was this deep thing inside that I carried around for a while.

About a month after the birth, I was sitting in a rocking chair in my living room (something that happened frequently those days) and it hit me that I had distanced myself from certain others, including God.  I hadn't talked with Him in a while, and the reason for it was disclosed as I opened up to Him: "I'm sorry for disappointing you."  The tears began to flow.  "I know I'm capable of this, and I was supposed to be strong.  But I got so weak and gave up.  And I didn't depend on your strength.  I'm sorry I let you down."  And amidst the anguish of my soul, He said something like this:  "You didn't let me down!  That's not My heart!  I'm so proud of you.  My heart is for you.  You are NOT a disappointment.  Look at your baby!  You carried him inside for 9 months, your body sustaining him and then birthed him.  You are amazing.  Your birth was amazing."  And then the floodgates of tears opened as I let those words wash away all the disappointment and unrealistic expectations I had of myself.

Expecting mothers, you don't have to prove anything to anyone.  You don't have to be anyone's hero. Birth is not a performance.  I'm going to say it again because I'm seeing too much pressure and expectation these days:  Birth is not a performance!  It will probably not go the way you expect.  Our bodies are natural and have individual differences and needs and they are not robotic (I'm very thankful for this!).  Sometimes birth goes smoothly, and sometimes things come up that are beyond your control.  You can and should surround yourself with people who believe in you and will support the type of birth that you want.  But give yourself the freedom to readjust your expectations, or let go of them altogether. 

And if you're carrying disappointment from a past birth, let it go.  You grew a baby in your body.  How stunning is that?!   In all the exhaustion, morning sickness, body changing and bulging, hormones and mood swings, you made it (or are making it) to the end.  The prize is the baby.  Don't focus so much on the process that you lose sight of the prize.  Don't compare yourself to other women and their birth stories.  There is no "gold standard."  Do your best, and be confident!  Let your story teach you about yourself, and let it show you places in need of healing, or simply releasing.  For me, I realized that I feared being a disappointment to myself and others, and I feared being weak.  Nothing in my life has been a catalyst for change more than my experiences in birthing and mothering.  It matures me and causes me to deal with my stuff, whether I want to or not! 

So, take a deep breath, and just let go...