Before I begin, I will give a quick praise report: Gabriel Matthew was born Sept. 20th, 6 lb. 4 oz. He is beautiful and is quickly capturing the hearts of the whole family. He is truly a special boy and a gift from God.
Last month, if you ran into me, I would have asked you to pray for a smooth delivery of our baby boy. I was praying very hard for this myself, as well as for him to be a good nurser. After three smooth deliveries, and after having nursed successfully before, I had no reason to expect it would be otherwise. Yet, even prior to delivery I had a sense that this prayer would not be answered in the way I hoped.
On Sept. 19th (11 days overdue) I went into the midwives office where they did a bio-physical profile on Gabriel. The midwives saw little to no amniotic fluid, and very few breathing motions, and a little 6 lb. baby who was positioned kind of sideways rather then back-facing to be born. I am sure this is all very routine to them, but I remember sitting in the office as the midwives spoke quietly to the Dr. down the hall. They didn't tell me this, but it wasn't hard to figure out they were discussing whether Gabriel was healthy enough to endure labor, or whether to section me right away. After a few minutes discussion, the midwife came back and told me to go home, eat lunch, and go the the hospital to be induced. I breathed a sigh of relief that I wasn't getting sectioned, but felt very unsure about how the rest of the day was going to go. I sent out a quick email and a few texts to the beautiful Christian friends that I have asking them to pray for me and for baby. I didn't want to let on how anxious I was. Part of me felt ashamed- of my body for not doing a better job growing and delivering him, and for my lack of emotional strength going into all of this. It was surprisingly difficult for me to say I was scared, I needed you all, I needed your prayers, your support, etc. And yet, right away after I asked for prayers the emails started coming in, texts started coming in, friends were putting me and the baby on prayer chains, attending Mass for us, and storming Heaven that this little guy would arrive safely. I doubt that there is a baby anywhere who received more prayers on his birthday! My phone got very spotty service once in the delivery room, but Brendan (who has a better phone with better service) gave the play by play to a few close friends and relatives. The labor went on all night, as the midwives scratched their heads in confusion as nothing went as planned. Hours were spent staring at Gabriel's heart monitor, watching whether the "dips" we were seeing warranted an emergency c-section. I don't think I ever would have been able to endure all this except for the strength that God gave me from the prayers that were being said. At 9:21 the following morning, Gabriel was finally born; healthy, beautiful (once the meconium got washed off), and sweetly crying. (at least it sounded sweet to me, because they were nervous he wouldn't be breathing).
This wasn't the labor I had planned. This wasn't the labor I had hoped for. But, it was the labor I had prayed for. It was the beginning of a plan God had, and has been unfolding over these last few weeks, which is sweeter in so many ways then the one I could have dreamt up.
Let me explain just a little bit. My Jesus, who knows me better then anybody, knows how insecure I can be sometimes. I have a tendency to be pridefully independent, and stubbornly strong. I know how silly this attitude is, given that we are all at all times entirely dependent on our Heavenly Father, and all the gifts he has given us- whether intelligence, money, strength, etc. are not earned but rather graces shared with us- not having done anything to earn or deserve them. Yet, so it is with me. I rarely admit when I am hurting, struggling, or just plain overwhelmed. I think it makes me look weak and incompetent. And yet, God's will was that I should (this time) be weak and overwhelmed.
After returning home, I was not able to pick up and vigorously take the reigns of my life back like I thought I would. In additional to the physical challenge of nursing and recovering from birth, Gabriel did not want to be put down. The first week Brendan and I took shifts, day and night. My normal body rhythms got replaced by adrenalin. The second week, I started to feel the familiar burn of ductal yeast- a very painful infection with nursing. Somehow, with all the pain I was having, I didn't notice that Gabriel was getting sleepier and skinnier. After two weeks home, Gabriel was not plumping up into that sweet breastfed baby fat with rosy cheeks, but was actually 10 oz. below his birth weight. I felt embarrassed and like a failure; because my little guy who God charged me with caring for was starving, because I hadn't noticed, and because as a woman, this should all come naturally to me! My pride was shattered and my heart was aching.
But, once again, there is a Resurrection to this story. Without my asking it or ever expecting it, the Body of Christ that surrounds me sprung into action. My mom came up and stayed for a few extra days, as did Brendan's mom. Friends extended our meal-train so that we had a full three weeks of dinners delivered to us- and then some. I don't want to embarrass her by mentioning her name on here, but a dear friend started pumping an extra time every day and delivered her extra milk to our door while my milk supply was low so that we could avoid formula and get Gabriel on track. A mother from our homeschooling group arranged for our three older kids to have playdates all week this week while Brendan was working so that I could get some sleep. With my others births, I spend hundreds of dollars on lactation consultants to try to establish nursing, but this time the mother of one of our homeschooling moms (a lactation consultant) checked up on me and followed up with me free of charge. Moms have driven as far as from Saratoga to deliver us healthy home cooked meals, one mom even surprised us with pizza and subs from Inferno! Another friend has texted me just about every day just to say hi- how are you holding up? This isn't just empty sentiment either because the minute she senses things are not going ok, she is here helping out- tangible, actual help. These are not women without anything to do- but women with full active lives, some with large families of their own. I was overwhelmed, but this time not with stress but with the love that has been shown to us.
I am reminded of the story of Tobit- one of those quirky Bible stories with the funny kind of details that only God would think to put in there. I am not going to recount the whole story, but it is one in which God specifically answers the prayers of Sarah and Tobit in exactly the opposite way as they expect. His plan is so much better.
I prayed for strength for labor. I prayed for a baby that nursed well. I prayed for things to be easy and smooth. God has taught me its ok to be weak and overwhelmed sometimes. He healed me of my pride and manifested the Strength, Power, and Love of His body- with the sure knowledge that I am part of it. Thank you, Lord.
