Unnatural Birth

          My beautiful sister-in-law just had a baby girl, and of my nine nieces and nephews this is the first one I have been able to see the day she was born.  No matter how many babies I have, or how many babies I hold, there is just nothing like a brand new, out-of-the-womb baby!  It is always so amazing to me that just hours before they were inside a person and now they are tightly swaddled in that pink and blue striped blanket with no idea what the hell is going and no idea why they can't be back inside a person, and yet they quietly (or not so quietly) breathe in and out, ushered permanently into this new world, knowing no one but their mother. 
           
          But being in the recovery room just hours after my sister-in-law had given birth I was so taken aback by how incredible she looked, how happy and coherent, and beautifully exhausted.   I have always had to have c-sections, something I have always hated, but seeing a woman less than two hours after doing it the good ol' fashioned way, my envy grew exponentially.  She didn't have a catheter robbing her of another small portion of her dignity, or an IV pumping endless bags of saline into her rapidly swelling body, she could feel her legs and move them, she could sit up and hold the baby with ease and no one was asking her if she had passed gas yet, so that in 12 more hours they could give her something to eat.   What a way to have a baby!
         
           Don't misunderstand me, I know she did all her hard work before I saw her. She had to discern when labor was happening, she had to get herself to the hospital and endure hours and hours of painful contractions, and wait and wait and wait for that sweet baby girl to make her appearance, and not before she pushed her out of a seemingly impossible place. 
          
          None if it is easy, but seeing her did remind me of some of the things I felt when I had to have my first c-section, and I know that an unexpected c-section comes with a myriad of reactions. The following reflection is an adaptation of a letter I wrote to a friend after she had an unexpected c-section and was drowning in the feelings of failure and regret that often follow:
          
          I was devastated when I ended up with a c-section. I felt angry and robbed of a genuine child-birth experience. I felt like less of a mother and on top of that I hated the pain of recovery so much that it just made it all worse.  Before I had even begun to enjoy my perfect baby (who was struggling for breath in the NICU) I was anxious about the next birth and the possibility of subsequent c-sections.  I played the events of his birth over and over again in my mind for weeks.  Was it really necessary? Should I have advocated more strongly for myself?  In retrospect I realize that these questions were ridiculous because had I not "allowed" a c-section I would not have my wonderful, smart, witty seven-year-old son.   In my circumstances an emergency c-section saved my baby's life and I am eternally grateful for my doctor's discernment and execution of the surgery that gave me a healthy baby.  Still, it took me months to stop regretting that it had happened, and when I had to have a second c-section, thus sealing my fate to always have them I went through the grieving process all over again.  
          
         I wasted so much time obsessing over my next birth before I had even held my new baby! To anyone recovering from a regretted c-section: do not obsess over the next baby or the next delivery. Enjoy the baby you just had!  You are a mess of hormones and recovery pain and huge boobs and sore nipples and sleep-deprived brain. You will have plenty of time to talk to your doctor or midwife and examine your possibilities for the next baby (and just for the record I know SO many women who have had successful VBAC's).  For now try to enjoy the little one as much as possible and every time you start to feel like less of a mother because you didn't push him out of your lady parts just tell Satan to get behind you and kiss your baby a few extra times! 
          
         Five c-sections and five healthy babies later I have finally realized how insignificant the way they are born really is.  It certainly can be a natural and beautiful experience and often medical intervention is completely unnecessary but at the end of the day the only the thing that really matters is that we get to take our babies home. Many of the women I know have had natural births, even in water, with mid-wives and no pain killers, in a quiet room, praying the rosary while the baby comes out (well maybe not that quietly, but still pretty different then my experiences).  This is how I always imagined my births would be. As disappointed as I was with my first c-section I remember looking at him in the NICU, fighting to breathe and realizing that I didn't care how he came out I just wanted to take him home. 
         
          I have had friends lose babies because they weren't close enough to a hospital, and I have friends lose babies after doctors did everything they could to save them.  I have had friends see their lives change in an instant when they realized the baby they have loved and imagined for 9 months will have disabilities they never imagined and may not even live to celebrate their first birthday.  The more I am around the business of birth and labor the more I realize that it is all such a monumental gift, one we do not deserve, and one that is not cheapened in any way by the course in which it takes to get to us: midwife, doctor, in a bed, in water, naturally, with an epidural, c-section or adoption.  It is all a beautiful, inexplicable, unwarranted gift.


          There is so much hubris and opinion surrounding the business of labor, when really the miracle is the baby, the LIFE.  One thing I think we would all be wise to remember is that it is not a moral issue.  Just like nursing/formula, or co-sleeping/scheduling isn't a  moral issue and yet people bombard new moms with these preferences like it involves the salvation of their souls.  Some are preferences, some are choices we make that surprise us, and some are things completely out of our control.  My advice to a mom struggling after a c-section: don't waste time wondering if you "fought" hard enough for a natural birth, just allow God to heal you physically and emotionally so you can move on and be the best mother you can be to the child he's given you.   
         
          Looking at my sister-in-law and her perfect baby girl made me a little jealous of her birth experience, but mostly it reminded me of how grateful I am to be a mom; how amazing it is that God lets us participate in the giving of life and the forming of souls, and that these tiny creatures are people placed in our care for just a short time with a purpose and destiny that goes far beyond the moment of their birth.  

Selflessness: Not a Popular Choice

          It has been one of those weeks (or maybe months) where it just feels like one onslaught after another. I start to gain some momentum, get on top of things and before I can enjoy the quiet, or the clean, or the money in the bank a tornado of life comes through and leaves noise, dirt, and need in its wake.

         Our days around here are never easy.  Anyone with kids, whether you have one or ten, knows that most days are not your own.  My husband usually starts his day trying, in vain, to pray in the quiet before the real chaos starts but he usually ends up reading his Bible with a fussy baby on his knee, or a hungry three-year- old at his feet, until the poopy two-year-old stumbles in asking for water; and this is all before 6:00 a.m.
Sometimes I feel guilty for how hard it is; like I am not taking in the moment enough (you know, all these perfect toddler moments that people are constantly telling me I am going to miss one day), like it's my fault it's hard because I just have the wrong attitude.

           Sometimes that's true; sometimes I do just need a major attitude adjustment.   But most of the time it's just hard. Life is full of struggle, a tapestry woven with laughter and grief, joy and sorrow, peace and anxiety, success and failure.   The world is constantly reminding me that we didn't have to have so many kids, and I'd be lying if I said I don't sometimes remember with great fondness the simplicity of having two or three, but then I remember that that was super hard too.  It's all about perspective.  And every day I have to remind myself why we do it.  Because it has nothing to do with me.  
         
                 But then there's days like today, when I start out thinking it's the normal amount of hard, squeaking by until the next pay check, but making it, dealing with the dirt and the clutter, and the fatigue.   And then I find out that two of my kids need their tonsils and adenoids out, and we have to pay up front, and no we shouldn't put it off too long; and of course I didn't think to look into all this when the deductible was met in June. So just when we thought we could (maybe) go a year without meeting the deductible (i.e. go a year without having a baby) we will probably meet it in March.  Oh, and they want us to pay up front (?!).   Then I look at my house and the laundry seems dirtier, the floor a new kind of filthy, dinner an unbelievable obstacle in both thought and deed and I can't decide if I should cry or eat the entire tray of brownies my dear friend just gave me in honor of the Feast of the Presentation.

            Then the holy spirit whispers a gentle reminder; "think of the presentation of Our Lord, think of the purification at the temple. All you can do is bring Him what you have; make an offering and He will bless it."  Even if you aren't quite sure about all this holiness talk, if you have kids you are intimately familiar with the act of offering up yourself, everyday, all day long.  Having a family requires selflessness, that's why our culture hates children so much. That's why you're supposed to stop at a respectable number, so you can get your life back.  But I have discovered, since I am so inept at doing this myself, so bad at putting myself last, that if I present it ALL to God, the good, the bad, and the ugly he responds with His life.
           
              Mary didn't have to bring Jesus to the Temple, she knew he was without sin.  She didn't need purification because she too was without sin.  But she humbly did all that was expected of her and all that the law required of her for this child that was Man and God.  We are reminded of the beauty of being reminded of our nothingness, our unworthiness, our need for purification and redemption.  Mary was poor.  All she and Joseph could bring were two small birds, not a lamb or a goat, and yet that was all God required of them even for the presentation of His only Son.

           So what is he asking of me?  What is he asking of us?  To bring what we have, all we have, especially when it doesn't feel like enough, especially when it feels like nothing at all.  I can bring my bad attitude, my self-pity, my frustration, my empty pockets, my dirty house, my children's souls and futures, my marriage and all the weight of this life and I can offer it up.   And I can bring the beautiful, unbelievable gifts and blessings, the really good days, the joy and laughter, the health and happiness. I can bring it all:

I can give Him this smile,

           

And this soul,

And their future,

And their health,

And I can remember that none of it is really mine to give anyway since all of this is just a gift, given by the One who knows me best, given to purify, and refine, and bless.

           I am not at all sure about what God has in mind for us right now; I don't know why it sometimes has to be so hard.  But I do know that he always gives us what we need; usually nothing extra, but always what we need.   I know that our children are not part of the burden but the biggest part of the blessing (even if we do have to spend $5,000 to get some tonsils cut out) and I know that if I look anywhere but Christ and His Church for answers I will only get lost in the impossibility of it all.  At least that's how I feel today.  But I have been at this long enough to know that sometimes the sun sets and a new day dawns and without explanation everything looks a little better and it's not quite as hard as it was the day before.