I’m sitting at home with my feet propped up nursing my newborn baby boy. He’s beautiful; so precious I can’t seem to stop kissing every part of his little face. His thin lips, wide nose, fluffy cheeks, they all fill my heart with an overwhelming amount of love. When I look into his big dark eyes, I can’t help but close my own and reminisce his grand entrance into this world….
The panic, the pain, the promise I forced my husband to make to never do this to me again.
It’s hilarious how we can be entrenched in a situation so intensely painful we can’t imagine a way out. But a minute later we see the joy that results and we can’t seem to remember the pain at all. I’m pretty sure that’s why us women have multiple children. There’s a wonderful lesson to be learned here, but I’d rather not talk about that just yet.
I wrote a poem documenting the emotions of my second child’s birth. In a year from now, when I’m missing tiny baby clothes and adorable, unnecessary infant shoes I will stand strong against the temptation to breed. My memory of labor will be on the internet forever so I will never forget.
“It’s been just one week since the day you came
You’re cute and cuddly now, but birthing you brought so much pain
I’d been preparing for some time, had contractions for two weeks
But boy when you chose to come out you brought me to my knees
Literally, on all fours on the floor, I couldn’t believe the ache
There was no relief, no stopping now, not even a 30 second water break
Speaking of which, I drenched my dress, the stairs and the passenger seat
Your dad drove as fast as he could while I cursed every bump on the street
And when we checked in, it all got worse, the hurt intensified
I moaned in absolute agony, every inch of me wanted to cry
Little aid came from a hand I grabbed, whether your dad’s or some guy nearby
The only hope that I chose to see was in the drugs they would shoot up my spine
So I sat real still, felt a stab in my back and begged for the highest dose
And just like that, almost instantly, I was laying there cracking jokes
After two hours of torture I was able to look up and notice my family
They ate snacks while I doped up, I swear I was a whole new me.
Before I could think, the doctor came in and said it was time to push
The room full of laughs but this moment was real so I told them all to shush
Just a few deep breaths and I pulled you out, my goodness you had so much hair
Tears in my eyes, my heart welcomed yours, please know “Mommy will always be there”
To have another child, I’d done this before. I’m not sure what I was thinking
I had asked your dad to give me another, can’t imagine what I’d been drinking
The pain was bad, that’s true for sure, I won’t promise to do it again
But you, my son, fill our lives with a joy that our hearts can’t even contain”
Our little guy was a solid 8 lbs. 2 oz. and the laboring process I described, from the first painful contraction to delivery, was just four hours long. The pain was the worst I had ever felt in my life. It was unimaginable. If I wasn’t aware that quadrillions of women throughout history had endured this same process, I would’ve assumed I was going to die. That’s what it felt like. (Side note: giving birth to my first child was not like this at all. Labor was longer but I hardly felt any pain.)
But here’s the thing…the second he was birthed, I forgot ALL the pain. Actually, for me, the forgetting happened once the drugs kicked in, but you know what I mean. I look at this beautiful life God created through me and my husband and my heart is full of every good thing. He’s certainly worth the laboring process it took to birth him.
So here’s the rainbow: God promises to complete the work He started in us. Press through the pain, holding on to this promise. And I look forward to hearing your birth story 😉