And I’m certain I won’t be shouting that on horseback on a frantic midnight ride… to the hospital.
(Please tell me that someone besides my history major husband got that.)
The suspense is partially over. I’m getting induced tomorrow afternoon.
Pardon me for just one moment.
Ahem. I’m back. I apologize.
I feel a certain sense of relief having a pretty good estimate of when she will arrive now. At the same time, reality is starting to set in on what I will have to do to get her here. And, really, it is THAT anticipation that I can’t get out of my mind. Mostly because I’ve heard nothing but horror stories from pretty much everyone that has ever birthed a baby. Of course they always follow up with, “but it will all be worth it in the end.” Thanks. But right now, I’m going to be going through the part where you said:
“I was certain that I was on the verge of death. I saw the hope of a radiant white light momentarily before I came back to the reality that my insides were imploding. Which turned out to be mild compared to the torture that I endured through pushing 72 hours straight. I permanently damaged my vocal cords from the unearthly sounds that were bellowing from my being and my husband hid behind a chair, frightened of what I’d morphed into.”
“…but don’t worry, it will all be worth it in the end.”
I mean, really.
If we are hopping on the “exaggeration-to-tell-a-good-story” train… then I’m all aboard. Choo. Choo. I may even encourage your absurdities with some empathetic questions to egg you on…to see just how far you are going to take this tall tale. For my own amusement of course. Because I know it didn’t happen to you and, therefore, I know it won’t happen to me.
But! I’ve heard the horror story repeated so often (by credible people who aren’t even good story tellers!) that I’m certain that it must be rooted in fact. Impending doom must lie ahead.
I’ve also had a friend or two on the complete opposite end of the spectrum. They “didn’t really experience very much pain. Just a little pressure. No big deal. Two pushes and their 16 lb baby was out, smiling and flirting with the nurses.” What! Are you even human? I demand to know what kind of narcotic cocktail was put in your epidural…because that sounds like something I may be interested in. However, I have a feeling that the side effects of their anesthetic cocktail includes memory loss and/or a delusional recall of events. But that’s just my expert Bachelors-in-Psychology-level opinion. (And we all know that is credible.)
Needless to say, I am trying to remain calm. I am trying to remain rational. There have been billions of humans throughout history and they all have a mama that birthed them, right? Allow me to use some philosophical logic: All births of babies are miracles. All miracles are good. Henceforth, all births of babies are good.
And painful. haha
Ok, I’ll stop being a big ol’ scaredy cat. I can’t really opt out at this point. Not that I want to… I can’t wait to see Layla and her big cheeks!
I was thinking about it the other day… and, really, this isn’t as scary as the first time I soloed an airplane. I mean, I felt confident in my ability to fly the airplane safely, however, the feeling of taking off and looking to the empty seat next to you and knowing that you are completely and utterly alone… is indescribable. It is the moment that you realize that no one can help you… you can’t change your mind or get out of the situation. You are the only person that can help yourself get back to the ground safely. And, at that moment, any remnant of fear left me and I took charge and did what I had to do to fly the plane. Of course, I think God gave me the peace of knowing that He was with me and that is when I stopped being fearful. I trusted that He brought me this far in my flying lessons (something that He knows truly makes my heart joyful)… and He wouldn’t abandon me now. And He didn’t. After several touch and gos, I landed and I was ecstatic. Couldn’t wait to do it again. The reward of knowing I could fly a plane was worth all of the anticipation leading up to it.
And then I saw this on Joy’s Hope blog:
Ugh. I know this! But sometimes you need to be reminded and this was just perfect timing. I was overwhelmed with knowing God was with me as I soloed my little plane for the first time. And I just know that I will be reminded of His presence as I birth Layla. He blessed me with being pregnant, brought me this far through everything, and I refuse to believe that He will abandon me through the scary part.
So I’ve decided to make myself a little inspirational birthing card… just so I can reflect upon some verses in the event I get a little worked up. Which is likely to happen. haha
I’m going to print this out and bring it with me.
I know. I’m a dork. Who makes a birthing card? haha
But somehow expressing something creatively helps me to cope.
And it may just give me something to look at to remind me who my Help is. And that, perhaps, it really will “all be worth it” in the end. 😉
Do you guys have any advice or wisdom to bestow upon me? Like, don’t ask the nurse to punch your lights out? Or don’t continuously remind Jon that this is all his fault? haha (I would never!…) Or even things that I should remember to bring to the hospital? I’ll take anything I can get! Including a whole lot of prayer! Can’t wait to show y’all a cute little peanut!