On Being Pregnant a Second Time or: This Crazy Hormonal Roller Coaster Ride

  There have been a lot of emotions surrounding this second pregnancy lately. Being full of Third Trimester Hormones doesn't help anyone, of course. But there's been a lot of anticipation and anxiety.
  On good days, I am thrilled that we are having another baby, and do not take it for granted. I am anxious to meet our sweet little boy, who seems anxious to meet me, if his kicks and shoves are any indication. I am thankful that our two sweet boys will be so close together. David and I are both the oldest siblings in our families, and both of us have 5 years between us and the next sibling. Having a brother or sister so close is a strange and wonderful concept for us.
  On good days, I have so peacefully rested in the knowledge that God's timing is perfect. Milo will come when he's ready, our house will be completed when it's supposed to be, and we no longer are waiting for David's promotion (praise God!). I am soaking up the time we have left with our precious first-born, the sweet giggles and his God-given snuggles. I thank God for our wonderful life and cannot believe how richly and undeservedly blessed we are.

  On bad days, however, it's harder to focus on those things. On the bad days, I shed tears over the time I feel that we're stealing away from Sam. I am terrified that he will not receive the love and attention that he needs or wants. I am filled with fear that Milo will be a harder baby than Sam was, that he won't sleep, that I won't eat or ever sleep again.
  On bad days, I am anxious about when Milo will come and when our house will be completed. Will Milo or the house come first? I am short of breath, completely lacking in energy, and knowing that I have to pack our entire apartment in the next 6 weeks is overwhelming. I am exhausted by this child inside me, who will not be still, who pushes on me so hard that I have cried out - frequently. I am bitter that our insurance isn't paying for our birth plan, that David has to work a second job to pay for our second child, and that he will probably still be working five nights a week when I have a newborn and a toddler. Five nights. In a row. By myself. Maybe Sam just won't need baths except for two nights a week. I cry, uncontrollably, for no reason at all.

  This is such a rough, wonderful season, where God has taught us so much and revealed so much of His love and providence. We were never supposed to be able to get pregnant on our own, and we have twice now. We have escaped the hardship that so many of our dearest friends have. I have difficult pregnancies and I have a hard time being limited, but I thank God for my babies. Having a family - being a family - is incredibly difficult and incredibly rewarding. It's brought David and I closer together, made us united in an amazing cause - and shown us how much we need God's guidance and grace.
  Seven(ish) more weeks. I have seven more weeks of uncertainty and getting my butt kicked from the inside out and not knowing what life with Milo will look like (and, Lord have mercy, having to pee every twenty minutes). We are about to experience more change than ever before in our lives, and all at once. I am scared, I am hormonal, and I am thrilled. Pray for me. And David. Poor shmuck. 

Deliver Us

  Recently I have been thinking about birth a lot. I am part of a mommy forum on facebook where the subject often comes up, and of course, there's the impending birth of our second son in three months.

  There is a lot of debate on where to have your baby, what kind of birth to have, are epidurals God's gift or the devil's, should one induce, the elective C-section... It can all get quite heated and hairy. While dwelling on it all late one night, after being involved in a discussion on induction that day, a thought occurred to me, and I feel burdened to share it. It's not a popular thought, I know, and I want to preface this with a warning: I know my choices are not everyone's choices, and I do not judge those who make different family choices.

  That said, these are my thoughts.

  My husband and I chose a home birth for my first delivery, and - God willing - I will have the same kind of delivery with my second. We chose this for a number of reasons. First, my mother had a home birth with me, delivered my brother at a birthing center, and then my sister at home. I was almost 5 and almost 6 years old, respectively, when they were born, so I was not only aware of what was going on, but watched them happen. This was my "normal." I grew up with a mother who encouraged women to "have your baby where your blood pressure will be the lowest", because that is the most beneficial for mommy and baby. Additionally, I have my own personal reasons (which I happily share with people who want to know) for not wanting to be in an environment where pain medications are normally encouraged and, more often than with a midwife-assisted birth, medical intervention happens. I personally felt more comfortable in my own environment, with only people I know around me. 

  Y'all, let me tell you. The birth of our first son, Sam, was crazy. You can read the whole story here, but the short version is that I went through transition on my own, not knowing I was going through transition, dilating 6cms in two and a half hours. In addition to this crazy-fast transition, especially for a first-time mom, Sam's head was turned sideways until the hour before it was time to push, so I had intense back labor. All I could do was lie in my bed (at 6am), force myself to summon the will to moan during contractions so that my husband would push his fists into my lower back for the pain, and then physically and mentally collapse between contractions. About half the time, I would plead with God, please, please, let the next one not be that bad. Sometimes that prayer was answered in my favor, sometimes not. But just when I thought I couldn't do it anymore, I was told that it was time to push.
  I tell you this because, though I did not realize it in that moment - and maybe that's part of the point - that was my hour of greatest need for a Deliverer. I was physically alone in that moment (through no one's fault, by the way) and I could not continue. I literally did not posses the strength any longer - physically, mentally or emotionally - not knowing how close I was to the end. I think this is the most beautiful picture of the Christian faith that there is. Marriage is a wonderful establishment that will show you your flaws, your selfishness, your need to love unconditionally, forgive constantly, our absolute and utterly inherent sin-nature that creates our need for a Savior; but labor is the only thing that is a picture of our need for deliverance that only a woman can go through. It takes you to your breaking point, to what you believe to be the point of no return. Almost any piece of literature, any film, any birth class will tell you that almost every mother in labor will think, "I cannot do this anymore", and that when you think that, you are almost at the end. 
  Romans 8:22-23 says "For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies." I know that labor pains are a part of the curse in the fall of man (one of my favorite moments in any tv show is in 30 Rock, when "Kenneth" is coaching a woman through labor, and the woman screams for an epidural. "But isn't the point that it's supposed to hurt?"), but I think that it is significant and wonderful that only we can experience this and relate to "all of creation" waiting for our Savior, and for the saved, waiting for Christ's return!
  My husband knows that I suffered, he was there, he heard my cries, he held my hand while we waited for our son to be born; but he will never fully understand the pain, the agony, the longing and anticipation that I felt in those hours. And I will not pretend to be holy and say that I understood it then! It truly has only been recently, as I have discussed birth plans with other women and begun to anticipate more and more the birth of our next son, that I have been graced with this understanding. 

  I do not write any of this without great prayerful consideration, because I do not want any person reading this to think that I am saying that you cannot have a spiritual experience without a natural birth, or that choosing something different makes you weaker or worse or selfish or anything else you may have heard or thought or read, or to try to guilt anyone into making the same decisions for your family that we have made for ours. I write this knowing countless women who have struggled through infertility and loss, and hope that they understand where my heart is in this, praying that I do not rub salt in wounds, and wanting to remind them that God loves them so very, very much. I write this because these thoughts struck me like a thunderbolt and because I wanted to encourage, to let you know that the pain of labor can be a blessing. 
  Even in a woman's darkest and most desperate hour, God can be glorified and we can gain a deeper understanding of our need to be delivered from ourselves. We can better understand the agony and anticipation of people waiting for a Savior. We can see more clearly that our time on this earth is growing and building toward our Deliverer's return, and, God willing, spend our precious time hoping and praying and striving toward the deliverance of others.