I would like to have the authority in my own life to say to my child, "Do not be sick with hand, foot, and mouth disease," or, "get rid of that jaundice right now, young lady." However, the power to control whether or not my children are ill does not fall to me.
The first week home with baby number two (S), my first daughter (R) contracted hand, foot, and mouth disease. We were afraid it was strep throat at first, but when my husband took her to the doctor we found out (to our relief) that it was this scary-sounding but relatively non-threatening disease that caused her to have bothersome red spots all over her hands, feet, face, and hip areas. She was not contagious to adults, and there was little risk that infant S would be in contact with R, which was why we were so relieved. However, there was still a lot of work and trouble associated with the situation. R had fever for a couple of days, she didn't feel well, and we had to prevent her from cuddling her new baby sister. Meanwhile, baby S also had some issues related to jaundice concern. Her pediatrician asked us to get her tested and re-tested for bilirubin levels every day for the first week of her life, which meant trips back to the hospital every day for a week after having finally been discharged after spending two nights there following her birth (two instead of one because I was group B strep positive).
All in all, the first week home with our new baby was not the experience I had desired. I'd imagined lots of rest and cuddles, not lots of car trips with an infant, insanely messy breastfeeding in public, a whining, tired toddler, and little opportunity for much-needed naps for myself.
That week, my Bible study teacher shared her memory verse with me: Matthew 21:23b says, "By what authority are You doing these things, and who gave You this authority?" The Pharisees were challenging Jesus with these words. Of course, the questions are provocative; since I believe Jesus has ultimate authority, given that He is God, I have no right to question Him in such a way. Meditating on this verse was the very thing I needed that week. As I prayed for help to deal with the tiredness and the two needy children, sobbing, I submitted the time to God. He is the authority of my life, not me.
Remembering Who is in charge gave me comfort that week, but remembering that my life was not all bad helped, too. Around that same time, I was reading the section of the Martin Luther biography by Eric Metaxas that describes Luther traveling many miles on foot to a meeting that could easily have resulted in his own execution by burning. Luther was (understandably) so anxious he had severe stomach pains and was unable to continue walking at one point. By comparison to this extreme hardship, my life was peachy! A little perspective can work wonders. Also, there were some enjoyable things about the week: I got to have lunch out with my husband after a couple of the trips to the hospital, toddler-free (since my mom was watching R for us), and all of those car-rides and dealings with the "outside world" probably helped me get back to a feeling of reality and normalcy after the strangeness of the two-night hospital stay.
In the end, God is good and He knows what He is doing. "Trust in Him at all times, O people; Pour out your heart before Him; God is a refuge for us," says David in Psalm 62:8. Truly God wants to hear from us no matter what emotions we are feeling (including anger or panic), but He also wants us to submit ourselves to His authority and rest in the fact that our peace is ultimately in Him, not in circumstances going exactly how we want.
Mar 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018
Birth Story Two
I woke up at 4 a.m. to use the bathroom as usual, and noticed some very watery discharge in my liner and dripping from me. Not entirely sure what it was, but seeing that more kept coming, I changed into a pad just in case and went back to bed. "I think my water broke," I told my husband. He reassured me the best thing to do was try to get sleep either way. About an hour later, I woke him up again: "I'm having contractions." "Should we call your parents?"
So my second labor began with my water breaking (later confirmed at triage in the hospital), which I never expected. I called the midwife at about 8 a.m. and she suggested we should come on in to check if my water had indeed broken, because if so she wanted to admit me and start the antibiotic (I was GBS positive). We had wanted to labor much longer at home, but this circumstance made the decision for us, and we went earlier than we otherwise would have. As it turned out, I'm glad we got there when we did. Triage takes longer than you think, and by the time I got to the labor room, the contractions were quite uncomfortable - a car ride at that point would have been challenging!
Overall, the labor took about eight hours (shorter than my first by four hours), if you only count how long I was really feeling contractions. I want to highlight my major takeaways for the sake of remembrance:
When I called the midwife I found out my favorite out of five was the one on call that day (an answered prayer that seems like a small thing, but which gave me great joy that day).
Anti-nausea medication during early labor gave me huge relief and I never had to throw up.
I never had my cervix checked until my husband and I wanted to; because my water had broken, the midwife admitted me without checking, and she didn't feel a need to check unless we wanted to know. When we finally did ask her to check, I was dilated to a six, which meant that most likely the majority of the time of labor had passed already. Good news!
Laboring in the shower was a huge pain reliever! Almost unbelievably so!
I still hate having a contraction on an exercise ball (something I tried in both labors).
Having just a saline lock and only intermittent fetal monitoring made me feel very free.
The squat bar for pushing turned out to feel awkward, and even though I knew the position to get in to use it, I could not seem to get myself into that position. I ended up turning around and lying on my chest on the bed with my knees bent under me (basically on all fours, but with the bed raised where my hands were so that my chest was more supported. I didn't know the bed could do that!). The nurse handed me a pillow, and I wrapped my arms around it and did my breathing (slash loud groaning and/or yelling) into it. That pillow added such a sense of security. After three pushes, baby girl number two was out!
The midwife said I'd been pushing for a while before that, when I was still standing and leaning on my husband through contractions. She kept telling me I could push if I wanted to, but that I didn't have to. What an awesome experience, having an advocate there who encouraged me to listen to my body's cues and not force anything.
I kept telling my husband "I love you" after getting through each contraction for the latter part of labor. I felt so close and connected to him throughout the whole experience (something that I remember from the first labor as well). He kept telling me I was doing a great job, that I could do this, that I was almost done, and other encouraging things. He let me hold and lean on him as much as I needed. He was an amazing coach and source of comfort, security, and calm. I also cried a tiny bit a few times, which always seemed to help relieve any fear or anxiety I had at the moment.
This labor was full of gifts from a gracious God: my favorite midwife, daytime labor, low traffic on Sunday morning on the way to the hospital, only one cervix check, a redeeming experience with the pushing stage (after having an emotionally terrible one in my first labor).
So my second labor began with my water breaking (later confirmed at triage in the hospital), which I never expected. I called the midwife at about 8 a.m. and she suggested we should come on in to check if my water had indeed broken, because if so she wanted to admit me and start the antibiotic (I was GBS positive). We had wanted to labor much longer at home, but this circumstance made the decision for us, and we went earlier than we otherwise would have. As it turned out, I'm glad we got there when we did. Triage takes longer than you think, and by the time I got to the labor room, the contractions were quite uncomfortable - a car ride at that point would have been challenging!
Overall, the labor took about eight hours (shorter than my first by four hours), if you only count how long I was really feeling contractions. I want to highlight my major takeaways for the sake of remembrance:
When I called the midwife I found out my favorite out of five was the one on call that day (an answered prayer that seems like a small thing, but which gave me great joy that day).
Anti-nausea medication during early labor gave me huge relief and I never had to throw up.
I never had my cervix checked until my husband and I wanted to; because my water had broken, the midwife admitted me without checking, and she didn't feel a need to check unless we wanted to know. When we finally did ask her to check, I was dilated to a six, which meant that most likely the majority of the time of labor had passed already. Good news!
Laboring in the shower was a huge pain reliever! Almost unbelievably so!
I still hate having a contraction on an exercise ball (something I tried in both labors).
Having just a saline lock and only intermittent fetal monitoring made me feel very free.
The squat bar for pushing turned out to feel awkward, and even though I knew the position to get in to use it, I could not seem to get myself into that position. I ended up turning around and lying on my chest on the bed with my knees bent under me (basically on all fours, but with the bed raised where my hands were so that my chest was more supported. I didn't know the bed could do that!). The nurse handed me a pillow, and I wrapped my arms around it and did my breathing (slash loud groaning and/or yelling) into it. That pillow added such a sense of security. After three pushes, baby girl number two was out!
The midwife said I'd been pushing for a while before that, when I was still standing and leaning on my husband through contractions. She kept telling me I could push if I wanted to, but that I didn't have to. What an awesome experience, having an advocate there who encouraged me to listen to my body's cues and not force anything.
I kept telling my husband "I love you" after getting through each contraction for the latter part of labor. I felt so close and connected to him throughout the whole experience (something that I remember from the first labor as well). He kept telling me I was doing a great job, that I could do this, that I was almost done, and other encouraging things. He let me hold and lean on him as much as I needed. He was an amazing coach and source of comfort, security, and calm. I also cried a tiny bit a few times, which always seemed to help relieve any fear or anxiety I had at the moment.
This labor was full of gifts from a gracious God: my favorite midwife, daytime labor, low traffic on Sunday morning on the way to the hospital, only one cervix check, a redeeming experience with the pushing stage (after having an emotionally terrible one in my first labor).
Jan 14, 2018
Obedience: True Freedom
January seems an appropriate month to write about change; the expectation of welcoming a new baby to the family within the next few weeks makes it even more so. In The Young Unicorns, Madeleine L'Engle has some challenging thoughts about change and acceptance of our roles in life. She argues that "only obedience . . . is perfect freedom." At times it seems counter-intuitive, but perhaps accepting our roles and what is demanded of us does provide a sense of freedom in our lives.
One of L'Engle's main teenage characters, Vicky, struggling with change, complains to her father that she wished they had never moved from the country to a big city. Her father responds that "we aren't free to remain static, to refuse to change. That isn't freedom. That's death." L'Engle is not arguing for change merely for the sake of change; rather, she suggests that when requirements are placed on us, we must respond appropriately, which sometimes requires great change. A wise and trusted Rabbi in the novel states that "to be demanded of gives us dignity." Refusing to respond is not freedom, but "apathy," a loss of one's humanity.
Sometimes the demands made on us seem trivial or less prestigious than what we could be doing otherwise. I can relate somewhat to Mrs. Austin, a mother in the novel, who gave up a singing career on stage when she married and had children, choosing instead to work in her home and be present with her family. She herself does not view the change as a lessening of her potential or a waste of her talents, though others think so. Instead, she sees it as one of those necessary changes placed upon her by the demands of life. From L'Engle's perspective, these demands come from a sovereign God who ordains the plans for our lives and requires us to respond humbly with obedience.
Staying home with small children, changing diapers, sitting still and nursing a newborn for the better part of the day, interacting with a two-year-old and her baby doll as though that baby doll were alive, cooking, grocery shopping, folding laundry, and taking naps may all seem like small and insignificant tasks when compared to the types of work that are generally lauded in our society. We value intelligence, creativity, ambition, hard work, and making a "mark" on history or leaving a great legacy. These are fine things. A quiet and simple life is also a fine thing (1 Thessalonians 4:11). I struggle with change, like Vicky, when new chapters begin in my life. Having a new baby gives me trepidation (to put it mildly). I need others to remind me, and I need to remind myself, that the demands of life can bring dignity and freedom when I accept them obediently, setting aside my own agenda and routines.
Since a loving and good God sees fit to place on me the demands of new motherhood, I should accept the changes brought by the newborn with as much flexibility and energy as I can muster, rather than stubbornly kicking at the goads, as it were. Whatever the yoke He places on me, He's taking part in pulling with it as well (Matthew 11:28-30); what a wonderful promise! What restful and dignified freedom, to do my work actively with Him rather than struggling in vain against it.
One of L'Engle's main teenage characters, Vicky, struggling with change, complains to her father that she wished they had never moved from the country to a big city. Her father responds that "we aren't free to remain static, to refuse to change. That isn't freedom. That's death." L'Engle is not arguing for change merely for the sake of change; rather, she suggests that when requirements are placed on us, we must respond appropriately, which sometimes requires great change. A wise and trusted Rabbi in the novel states that "to be demanded of gives us dignity." Refusing to respond is not freedom, but "apathy," a loss of one's humanity.
Sometimes the demands made on us seem trivial or less prestigious than what we could be doing otherwise. I can relate somewhat to Mrs. Austin, a mother in the novel, who gave up a singing career on stage when she married and had children, choosing instead to work in her home and be present with her family. She herself does not view the change as a lessening of her potential or a waste of her talents, though others think so. Instead, she sees it as one of those necessary changes placed upon her by the demands of life. From L'Engle's perspective, these demands come from a sovereign God who ordains the plans for our lives and requires us to respond humbly with obedience.
Staying home with small children, changing diapers, sitting still and nursing a newborn for the better part of the day, interacting with a two-year-old and her baby doll as though that baby doll were alive, cooking, grocery shopping, folding laundry, and taking naps may all seem like small and insignificant tasks when compared to the types of work that are generally lauded in our society. We value intelligence, creativity, ambition, hard work, and making a "mark" on history or leaving a great legacy. These are fine things. A quiet and simple life is also a fine thing (1 Thessalonians 4:11). I struggle with change, like Vicky, when new chapters begin in my life. Having a new baby gives me trepidation (to put it mildly). I need others to remind me, and I need to remind myself, that the demands of life can bring dignity and freedom when I accept them obediently, setting aside my own agenda and routines.
Since a loving and good God sees fit to place on me the demands of new motherhood, I should accept the changes brought by the newborn with as much flexibility and energy as I can muster, rather than stubbornly kicking at the goads, as it were. Whatever the yoke He places on me, He's taking part in pulling with it as well (Matthew 11:28-30); what a wonderful promise! What restful and dignified freedom, to do my work actively with Him rather than struggling in vain against it.
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