Tag: birth

You Amaze Me!

Today is my daughter’s birthday.  We’ve had a good celebration of her, cause it’s her day and I hope that it has been a great day for her. But I have my own private tradition on my kids’ birthdays. Each birthday I take a little time to remember their birth. The whole thing. I replay it in my mind. Keep the memory alive. Because, yes, it’s her birthday, but it’s also the anniversary of when I gave birth to a child. And survived. And, amazingly, just kept on with life as if not much had happened. 

It’s a bit odd, but in our culture (at least here in the South), talking about giving birth in mixed company is kind of taboo. Even talking about it with other women, we usually make sure that everyone in the circle has already given birth or is just about to. Maybe it’s too personal? Too gory? Too special? 

I’m not sure what the reasoning is. All I know is that one of the greatest accomplishments me and my body have ever undertaken is something that is never talked about. My body grew another human being and then pushed that human being out. We just use these gentle little phrases, I gave birth or We had a baby. It sounds so passive. Sweet. Words that keep everyone comfortable. 

How about, I labored to bring a baby out of my body. I agonized, crossed all reasonable thresholds of pain, but didn’t die, and somehow managed to get a baby from point A to point B without ripping my body in half. 

How about, I entered the zone of pain where the world disappeared, logical thought disappeared, and the only thing my brain was aware of was how to get this baby out so the pain would stop. 

How about, I disciplined my breathing and counting in my head to such an amazing level that I was able to withstand contractions that were literally stretching my body open from zero to ten centimeters. And I only yelled a little. 

Why, in our culture, do we not see a mom with a new baby and immediately start clapping. WOW!! YOU DID IT!! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU MADE IT! 

So, I know there are a lot of moms out there who didn’t give birth to their babies. They adopted, fostered, took over care from a family member. This is not a put down on you. The fact of the matter is you need your own cheering squad and standing ovation. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU JUST MADE A DECISION TO LOVE THIS CHILD AND THEN YOU DID! Just like that! And now you’ve given your entire life to taking care of this child, just like that! YOU ARE AMAZING!! 

Ok, not everyone is a mom. But everyone does amazing things. This one is for my husband and all the other hard working breadwinners out there. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU GET UP EVERY SINGLE MORNING AND GO TO WORK!! EVEN WHEN YOU DON’T FEEL LIKE IT! AND YOU KEEP FIXING THE CARS AND MAKING THEM RUN! AND YOU KEEP READING BEDTIME STORIES AND TUCKING KIDS INTO BED! AND YOU KEEP PLANNING YOUR TIME AROUND YOUR FAMILY AND PUTTING THEM FIRST!! You are amazing. 

We don’t spend enough time recognizing the struggles and triumphs of our fellow man and woman. I think if we spent more time being amazed by each other, it would help in the respect and kindness department. 

Just a thought. 

Not So Silent Night

It’s two days before Christmas and I am over-the-top busy getting ready for the big day. So, today I’m reposting something I put on Facebook last Christmas. Merry Christmas Everyone!

“Silent Night, Holy Night, All is calm, All is bright.” When I was a child this was my favorite Christmas Carol. I would always imagine a cold moonlit night, stars shining brightly, a big star shining down on a picturesque stable standing all alone on a beautiful hillside. Inside the stable were a couple adorable animals, all sleeping quietly, while Mary and Joseph sit on little stools, dressed impeccably, looking adoringly down on a beautiful infant who is glowing slightly and sleeping peacefully. You know the image I’m talking about, what we always see on Christmas cards.

Now, when I hear that song, I laugh quietly to myself.

“Silent night.” Hah. I doubt there was anything silent about that night. I have given birth 10 times. Yes, 10. I have had a labor that lasted over 24 hrs with 4 hrs of pushing, I’ve had induced labors with an epidural, I’ve had completely natural  births that lasted 4 hrs and completely natural births that lasted 90 minutes. It doesn’t matter how you go about it, the end result is the same. Lots of pain. Mess. Achiness. A feeling of being out-of-body. People around you are giving you instructions, you are doing everything you can to get through the pain, and your husband is trying to offer whatever support he can. And then when the baby is about to come out, the energy in the room suddenly increases and everyone is bustling, getting ready to welcome this newest addition to the world.

I imagine Mary, going through that birth experience in a stable. No sterile hospitals with running water. No ice-packs, no pain killers. No clean bedding. I don’t think Mary was alone during her birth. I am not an expert on the culture of Bethlehem at that time, but I have lived in cultures that were a lot more community oriented than what we have here in the US.  I’m pretty sure she had at least a midwife there, if not several other women who showed up just to help. And we all know that where two or more women are gathered there will be conversation. No. I don’t think it was very silent.

“All is Calm” No. Not really. The baby comes out and is handed to you and you are shaking so hard that you can hardly hold him. And then, there is that overwhelming panic as you look at this tiny bundle in your arms and you realize that it is up to you to keep this baby alive. It’s like a giant weight settles on your shoulders and your entire perspective on life shifts to this baby. From here on out, every decision you make will have to line up with the ultimate goal of providing for and protecting this little one.

But.. it was Holy. “Holy Night.” Yes. The birth of any child is enough to bring you to tears at the wonder of creation. To see this red-faced, wrinkly creature is a holy experience in itself. I remember tears streaming down my face, all pain forgotten for the moment, as I carefully cradled this little one. My child. This life came out of my body. I was in awe at the wonder of birth. I would think, for Mary, that experience was multiplied a hundred fold. Her child. God’s child. Hope born. A fulfillment of God’s promises. “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.”

Painful, messy, loud, chaotic, Holy Night.