Today’s topic is one I have avoided for quite some time. It centers around childbirth, specifically the birth of my own children. So many women have stories of how they struggled to conceive, spent time in the NICU, and even suffered different types of loss in the various stages of their pregnancies. The birth of both my daughters was surrounded by a few negative things going on in my life that maybe I’ll share at another time. Despite that, I experienced little pain, no loss, and no life threatening circumstances.I learned over time that comparing myself with other women and their experiences did not reduce the anxiety that I experienced in my situation. The best takeaway I have is this – your hurt belongs to you. Other people’s experiences don’t get to define how hurt you are by a situation that you alone went through.

On to the story of birthing my oldest daughter.

My first daughter allowed me an easy pregnancy. Everything went exactly as planned up until I “went into labor”. You may find it odd that those last words are in air quotes. Well, my husband and I had been taking the Bradley Method of Husband Coached Childbirth classes, which I highly recommend whether you plan to have an intervention free birth or not. I knew what labor was supposed to look like. My water broke around 4am on a Friday morning while I was asleep. We called my doctor and began preparing to go to the hospital. The bags were already packed at the door. My husband and I showered and took our time leaving. Are you starting to see where the air quotes come in? I never actually went into an active stage of labor that involved contractions. Still, the amniotic fluid continued to come.

Are you starting to see where the air quotes come in? I never actually went into an active stage of labor that involved contractions. Still, the amniotic fluid continued to come.

I was nervous and anxious because my doctor and had such an awkward relationship.

My doctor was always pretty quick during my appointments. She didn’t know much about me and tended to brush off any concerns I had. There was no over communication or education about the different stages of pregnancy for an excited first time mom. And at a certain point, in the middle of my pregnancy there was a week long period of arguments regarding a new policy (implemented at my 30 week mark)  in which I had to fully pay for my labor and delivery prior to receiving those services. More about that later.

Fast forward and we have been at the hospital for awhile (like an entire 24 hours at this point). My doctor refused to allow me to stay mobile during my labor despite my birth plan wishes. The hospital was more than willing to comply, but my doctor persisted. She never came to see me until I had been at the hospital for maybe 10 hours. There was no reassuring phone call or direct conversation with me at any point.

Even after she finally came, my labor was not progressing.

I don’t recall the exact numbers now, but I had maybe dilated 3 centimeters at that point. By now I had two doses of a medicine intended to soften my cervix, but had refused all other interventions. I was also beginning to have painful contractions. They became so intense around hour 24 that I just broke down. My husband was helping me go to the restroom and I remember saying  – “I can’t do this.”

Not too long after that, my doctor informed me that I would have to have Pitocin next. I knew from our classes that my labor would only intensify now. So, I opted for an epidural.  Finally, after 26 hours or so I was able to get some sleep. My mother showed up sometime around then, which also allowed my exhausted husband to get some sleep.

Let me take a step back to talk about how amazing my husband and the nurses were.

My husband used everything we learned in class from massage techniques down to coming to my side as soon as he saw a wrinkle of frustration in my brow. He stayed awake, comforted me, and was the only person I wanted in that moment. I thought that role would be taken by my mother, but my husband was more than I imagined he could be in those long hours. The majority of our nurses were equally as amazing. I felt so loved and cared for that I would have had another baby just to stay there longer! (Not really, but you get my point).

It may have been pushing 30 hours when my doctor came in to tell me that I would have to get a c-section.

At this point I was so tired, hormonal, and frustrated that those words were the last I wanted to hear. She had asked me about it before and I requested more time. She now came in demanding that I have a c-section.

Based on what I learned in our classes, I asked her several questions – Am I okay? Is my baby okay? What will happen if we do not choose this option? There we no issues with myself or the baby. She worried that it had just been too long since my water had broken. With this information, I politely declined her request. She left the room and returned with some person who must have been a hospital manager, declaring that if I was refusing a c-section and endangering my child that she would not be held responsible. I would need to sign paperwork saying that I confirm that I am knowingly endangering my child because, again, she would not be held liable. Her tone was both loud and sharp. Every nurse and person in the room looked up.

Oh, did I forget to mention that I had dilated to 8 centimeters and they had just been prepping me to deliver? I had made it so far…my hopes were high that I would get to push in just another few hours.

At this point my mother and husband freaked out and now also pushed me to get the c-section (after the rude doctor had been requested to leave). I was a mess. I was crying, I was exhausted, I was defeated. The doctor came back a few minutes later and we agreed to the procedure. She then told what I’m going to call a lie, by saying something was going on with my daughter’s heart rate, as if to justify the situation further – we all turned to look at the monitors in confusion. I didn’t bother responding. I was done. Still crying, my mind drifted to what this could mean for me. A longer recovery, scars that would never fade, potational limits on the number of children I wanted to have – there was also the whole getting cut open and maybe dying on the table thing to consider.

I had but a moment, it seemed, to be afraid of all these things. My husband and mom said prayers over me before they wheeled me away.

A moment I imagined being filled with joy, was instead, full of fear.

I remember the two male anesthesiologists comforting me and wiping tears from my eyes during my entire surgery. It was if everyone around me knew that my doctor had struck this chord of sorrow inside of me that continued to radiate an array of unwavering emotions. As my daughter was born, there was no pushing from me. I wasn’t given the courtesy of seeing her being pulled out.

I held my breath for what seemed like forever until I heard her crying – so that I knew nothing was wrong. My husband went around to pick her up. They did all of the wiping off of fluids and whatever else they do for 5 minutes at least and I still had not met my little girl. I could feel them already tugging at my stomach, closing me back up as if I was just a box to be discarded with no regard for the human being laying on the table. My husband finally brought our daughter over and all I could do was cry.

I thanked God that she was born and that she was okay.

Now, my husband had to whisk her away for all kinds of tests and checks. As I lay on the table alone, I felt the anesthesia wearing off as I was being stapled back together. Luckily, the nice young men were very attentive to me and immediately upped the dosage. It seemed like forever had passed until I made it back to our room. It has been 30 minutes. My daughter hadn’t eaten. She had not had skin to skin with me. Thankfully, my husband stepped in for that part in my absence.  I had barely touched her. Already, pictures had been texted to our family, my mother and husband had been holding her. I felt like I had been utterly left out (although they were just excited and probably didn’t consider my perspective).

When I finally did get to hold my daughter, I was so happy…and yet so depressed. She had a little red mark right above her forehead that stretched to her eyelid. I had been told that she had been stuck behind a bone in my pelvis. All I could imagine was the Pitocin I had been given, forcing contractions that rammed her further into such an uncomfortable place. I loved her, I was happy, I was grateful, but I was ashamed.

Back to my doctor.

Weeks had passed and I was ready to return to work. My doctor had a regular appointment with me and afterwards asked that I receive my disability paperwork through email. Hours passed after my appointment and I got nothing. I called a few times and was finally told that they would not return my paperwork until my bill was paid in full – all $2,000 some odd dollars of it. My husband and I were in the process of buying a home. We thought that we would be able to get on a payment plan, as we had discussed with the doctor’s admin, but that was apparently now not an option.

So, we forfeited a good chunk of our down payment money and had no idea where we would recoup it from. Two weeks later, this same doctor would bill me for a total of something between 1-5 cents. Because isn’t the devil busy?

Still, I felt like a sham of a mother. I would never be able to “actually” birth a child I thought. What if I could never have as many as I wanted? What if I could never shake this anxiety and never want to get pregnant again?

But God!!

Romans 8:28 ESV reads:

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.

If you are in any similar situation, learn from my mistakes. Know that God is on time and pray that no weapon formed against you shall prosper. Despite the fact that I allowed myself to sulk into an unshakeable sadness for far longer than I should have, God STILL came through for me.

He is NOT limited by our weaknesses, failures, or plans.

• My daughter is now almost 3 years old and she is healthy, smart, kind, and loves going to church.
• I left that doctor and never looked back after clearing my debts.
• Our tax return appeared in our bank account TWO DAYS after paying those debts.
• We BOUGHT that house (and recently sold it for a profit!)
• And as you already know, we have another daughter who is equally as healthy, smart, and kind as the first.

What a POWERFUL name is the one of Jesus. Never doubt it. Keep praying and keep believing.