I lay there with tears streaming down my face. I tried to hide them. I tried to help myself from just letting it all out. Right there in the hospital bed everything I had held within me from the last 10 months wanted to explode.
Resting there, while my sister sat with me and my new baby, the depths of my heart were flooded with so many thoughts and emotions. The fears, anxieties, worries that I experienced. And then the trusting, the peace, the joy that I CHOSE before I had my baby. A whirlwind that I was trying to process.
Beside me, a perfect little bundle. A baby I prayed for. A baby I talked to and told, “It’s safe. We will do this. You’re safe. We’re safe. We will trust God.”
Looking at her, the one I dreamed about for months. The birth that seemed so unknown, was now known. I had come to a high risk hospital as a pregnant momma trying to have a natural birth, when all I knew were three c-sections, knowing I would be watched so closely.
Watching in case something happened.
And it did.
Watch me labor in my own way, with my choices, wearing my own clothes. Watch me be me.
Watch me speak out loud of my strength when I clearly feel the forces of my own body take hold to bring forth life.
Watch me as I call upon my God, my help, my Father.
Watch me as I cry, as I moan, as I groan. For it’s not just labor, it’s the deep parts of my heart conquering fears, releasing anxiety and trusting birth.
Watch me as I push. Watch me as I try to catch my breath. Watch me as the sweat rolls down my face and chest.
Yes, watch me in this marathon called birth.
Watch, yes watch as I reach down and grab my baby from my body, something I have never done before.
Yes, watch me have my baby.
Watch me have this redemptive birth.
Watch me have this healing birth.
Watch me have the birth that most said I couldn’t have. That I shouldn’t have. But I did.