I gave my body permission to do what God intended during labor and delivery. What my body was made to do. Created to do: to feel. As some might say, to feel all the gut-wrenching, mind-numbing, face-searing pain of labor. In spite of all that, I wanted to be present in the room. To be aware of all that was happening in me and through me; to witness this miraculous event of labor and delivery unfolding before my (most of the time) closed eyes.
Labor
People thought I was crazy to perform labor naturally (sans medicine). Maybe I am. People said I’d never be able to handle the excruciating pain. I think that drove me forward in my madness. I can be stubborn. Passively hard-headed, if you will. Because this was the path I had chosen for my birth story, I learned that the best, most precious moments come after the raging storm of Labor and Delivery.
The Storm that roars and thunders with rain you can’t see through and an end that never seems to come. When you haven’t experienced birth before, you can only educate yourself so much. The rest is just a blind journey down a dark alley that others warned would be disastrous, and now, in the midst, you almost wish you hadn’t traveled this far into the alley.
But then suddenly, your pain comes to a screeching halt.
Delivery
After a truly tumultuous, can’t-see-the-end storm, the most precious, beautiful cries filled the room. Mine and my son’s (his, of course, more precious than mine). This 36-hour roller coaster journey of labor was finished. Through half-closed eyes, I heard, “It’s a boy!” And then I fully awoke to see my sweet son’s handsome face.
Feeling his little body on my chest as he nursed for the first time and holding his precious form was a sweet, slow dance that distracted me from everything and everyone else. Flashdance sang it best with the lyric “What a feeling.” I learned to focus solely on what was important: my son. We did it, he and I. Welcome to the world, baby boy. The rest would heal, mend, be forgotten, but these first moments with my sweet son would only happen once. I wanted to relish every new moment.
Becoming a Parent
After I had been tended to, my husband and I congratulated, our little family now hung in the balance of a very quiet night. But we could not sleep. We were exhausted, but still buzzed. High on the life given to us. The past hours of labor and delivery flashing, now, like an old movie in our heads. The raw emotions slowly fading from our memory.
Taking in the day’s events, reliving every moment detail for detail, remembering every element, all while drinking in our son’s precious little face, we were now on the “Other Side.” Through the thickness, Husband by my side, he and I had accomplished the seemingly impossible. We were officially titled “Mom” and “Dad.” Such a hard concept to bear, and yet felt so perfect. And knowing that these first moments were just the beginning of becoming a mother.
I learned that in the still moments, the memories ring loudest, the most clear. As exhaustion lurked in the shadows, we didn’t hesitate to keep the light on for just one more minute as our new favorite little human yawned a tiny, but mighty yawn. We smiled and let sleep kidnap us…until we were woken up less than an hour later by that same now fully awake tiny human. Sleep would now become a distant friend. Oh boy.
