Holding her tight on the back of the traveling boat, the surrounding boats began to make numerous wakes. The life jacket kept me from her middle, but her face I could kiss. Her ears I could whisper into. Her eye lashes I could see, shining in the sunlight. Our third child, here on this earth only because of God’s grace upon her life and mine. He was kind to her, she was born quickly, and loved immediately by surrounding family. I was the one to suffer for a season, wallowing in my grief of a lost dream.
Holding her closer, our heartbeats seemed to have one pulse, in sync. My eyes welled up with tears, as a sentence came out of my mouth that I will never forget, and I hope she understood, even at age two.
“ I don’t care how the hell you came into this world, I’m just glad you’re here with me today. “
If someone had asked me a year ago if I loved Adah’s birth experience , I would have said no. Maybe frowned, and winced a bit. I would have probably told you how traumatized I was. How my homebirth plans were shattered. How long it took me to recover, PHYSICALLY, mentally, emotionally and even spiritually. How it played a part in my bonding with her, and my mental well being.
I probably would have told you all about the panic attacks , the hot sweats, and the endless rib tightness as a result of my grief in her birth. The decision to get on medication to try and end my suffering, all of it.
But during this experience on the boat that afternoon, I knew that none of that mattered anymore. I was new.
I realized that I would have cut off my right hand just to see her grow before my eyes. I would have done anything to see her giggle at her Daddy right before bed time, when he is supposed to be hugging and kissing her ( and instead he is tickling her and loving her the way she prefers ). All my pain was so acute compared to her life’s worth in this world, and in all eternity. To have her as my daughter matters so much, that eventually the pain melted away , and as it melted the Lord turned it only into gratefulness for her life.
HER LIFE, y’all.
Was my trauma legit? Did I grieve for the birth my heart desired? Oh yes. It was very real, and very healthy for me to have shed those million tears, to have been honest with myself that I was that miserable. That I cared that much HOW she was born, and not simply that she was BORN.
When I reach heaven’s gates and I have to answer to the one and only King of Kings, the fact that I had a c section won’t matter anymore. What will matter is that I have loved all my children well. Passionately well.
It took me almost three years to realize that beyond MY grief, my emotions, my dreams, that the end result was a gorgeous hilarious, spunky, sweet little girl.
There are certain life’s events that can set us back a bit. Make us bleed from our core, and question our role in this world. When we are honest, and we take our time, allowing the Lord to work on our hearts, the end of a terrible season can be a beautiful bloom of a seed planted with our tears to water the soil.
My c section made me a better person.
It taught me strength I didn’t know I even had. It taught me that pain is often necessary to grow. When life cheats you, you keep going. You keep getting up every morning and brushing your teeth. You keep believing that although things didn’t go as you planned , that God is still for you. He is still cheering you on, lifting you out of that bed. Maybe patting your butt a bit to get you going.
Beauty is pain, right?
In the pain, during it… it’s impossible to see the beauty that will stem from the tears. But I promise, the tears won’t last for a lifetime, soon you will see the beauty in it all.
Hey Momma- maybe tonight you are grieving a birth experience. Maybe it’s recent, maybe years ago. I want you to know that your plans were good for that birth. They were lovely, as lovely as you. Maybe they didn’t go as planned, maybe you’ve cried a river grieving what could have been.
I get you. I know how that feels. It’s heart wrenching thinking what could have been.
But tonight I urge you to think on NOT what could have been, but what IS.
Go scoop that baby, or teenager out of their sleepy stupor and hug them as tight as you can without suffocating them. They are here on this earth WITH you. You get to love them and yell at them for not cleaning their rooms, or taking out the trash. They are yours.
They are here.