Immanuel. God with us. God nigh.
I didn’t think fear would be a part of my story. Not again. But, as I lay in the darkness of a quiet home, with the familiar heaviness in my womb and shortness of breath in my chest, my legs quivered. Up until this 38 week mark I had been preoccupied with all the little pieces of life: planning our trip to Paris, editing photo sessions for my business, scraping up dried cereal from the floor under little chairs....I had not given myself the heart and mind preparation for the labor before me. I now had to face emotionally what I already knew mentally: this babe could come at any time.
And in the night I felt alone.
My husband, a neurology resident, still had three overnight call shifts to complete before my due date. Thoughts intruded “What if I went into labor with he at work and the world asleep?” My mother was not planning to come until the day before my due date. “What if I went into labor rapidly and my aunt couldn’t arrive in time to watch my two older kids?”
I think ultimately the fear in my heart was simple: “What if I found myself alone and in pain?”
You see, my prior natural births with Lilias and Jeshua have been the most vulnerable and intensive experiences of my life. I continue to choose the unmedicated route, yet still must work through the fear of what this means; the knowing and yet not knowing what is to come. Reliving my experiences brought me again to a place of desperation for God’s nearness and peace for the forthcoming yielding to the process of pain.
And in the darkness of the night, God spoke: “Psalm 121”
I picked up my Bible and the words grabbed me:
“I lift up my eyes to the hills.
From where does my help come?
My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot be moved;
he who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, he who keeps Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord is your keeper;
the Lord is your shade on your right hand.
The sun shall not strike you by day,
nor the moon by night.
The Lord will keep you from all evil;
he will keep your life.
The Lord will keep
your going out and your coming in
from this time forth and forevermore.”
I was struck.
God is my keeper. I needn’t fear for He does not slumber or sleep. He doesn’t sleep! So even in the darkness of the night, when I feel vulnerable, I am not alone.
I began to pray, and ask for prayer, that my labor would be peaceful. To this I added an odd request: that I could labor in the sunshine. In the day instead of the night. I wanted something different than what was replaying in my head. And as I prayed, I believed He would allow this.
My husband’s first call (an all day and all night shift) was on my birthday. I fought the desire to be glum or fearful that he was away. I opened up the birthday gift my mother had given me two months prior (she thinks ahead) that I had stashed away to open upon my actual birthday. It was the Ruth Chou Simons Gracelaced devotional, sectioned by seasons. I opened up to the first devotion in the fall section. Entitled “Held” this devotion was all about God’s nearness and help. One of the verses referenced: (you guessed it) Psalm 121. Tears fell from wide eyes amazed again by God’s baffling care. I am well aware that my fears are small in the grand scheme…I mean, childbirth is nothing new for mankind. Yet He meets me in my fear. He draws near.
For the next two weeks I limited my exercise and social calendar. I did not want to over exert myself and go into labor before my due date! We made it through my husband’s three overnight calls (my aunt graciously offered to spend the night on his last two call nights to assuage my worry) and my mother arrived. NOW this baby could come!
And come he did!
At 3am on October 8th (two days after my due date) my water broke. At 5am I woke Zade. At 7am I was leaning over through contractions and we decided to leave for the hospital. Kissing the kids goodbye I sat down a moment to wait while Zade gathered his things. And in those minutes something odd occurred. My contractions stopped completely. I was 99% sure my water had broken so I knew I was in active labor. But now I felt nothing. My mom took the kids on an outing as I napped a couple hours. I messaged a midwife friend asking for advice and she encouraged me to head to the hospital even though I still was not experiencing contractions. The general rule is that the baby should be out within 24 hours of the water breaking to ward off infections. So, at about 10:30 we headed out.
As we drove to the hospital, in the sunshine, I marveled at what a different experience this was to my last two labors. In my prior Exoduses from home I was already in the throes of labor! I could barely see! I was groaning into pillows, throwing up, and faces and forms were all a blur. As we neared the hospital on this occasion I had again begun experiencing contractions, but nothing unbearable. As we checked in I chatted amiably with my nurse and midwife and got to know them. “Your water definitely broke” they assured, adding “you are not going anywhere” as they closed the curtain to my little cubicled waiting space. My tears welled at the beautiful thought: “I am not leaving this place without a baby in my arms.”
I was four CM dilated but my midwife explained that if I was not able to progress within the next few hours I might have to take a drug that would speed my labor and keep me from entering a waterbirth tub for four hours. I didn’t want this and realized that in order to give myself the best chance for a natural waterbirth I was going to have to lean into labor. In a sense I needed to pursue the pain.
To speed up my contractions my husband and I went walking on the unit’s halls; we smiled at the walls speckled with photos of babies: babies in their fathers’ arms...babies in flower pots...babies covered in spaghetti. We stopped a couple times at my favorite spot: a large window overlooking the city. I leaned my face towards the warmth of the sunlight and thanked God for these moments of peace and the time to ease into labor and process what was happening.
As we returned to the room I set up a few mementos from home: a stuffed toy rhino we’d picked out for baby in Paris, his ultrasound pictures, some affirmation cards I’d received in my Mops registration packet, and my Gracelaced devotional opened up to her calligraphy watercolor of the verse “do not fear for I am with you.”
We turned on a worship playlist and I danced through some contractions. I held the little rhino to my chest as it helped me to focus on the baby at the end of all this.
At about 1:30pm, we utilized a pump for a half hour to help stimulate my hormonal release. Following this my contractions became more intense. I was experiencing contractions in my back in addition to my front (I now know that baby was sunny side up)! I realized that if I sat or laid down my contractions would almost completely cease. So, I had to stay upright or squat. Whereas in the past I would have put myself in positions to ease the pain of the contractions, I now was positioning myself to intensify them.
The intensifying did indeed happen and in time I asked to get into the tub where I knew I could relax my body more easily. The water was hot - very hot. At one point I hear the nurse say it was 101 degrees. We attempted to cool the water but something was malfunctioning. But there was no way I could get out of the tub now during my time of transition. The sprayer on my back and front offered relief nothing else could. I thought “it is like I have been training my whole life for this” because I love scalding hot baths. When they brought in a tub of ice from the ice machine I had a surge of energy (the heat of the water was making me a bit woozy). I was beginning to feel the desire to push and began to guttural yell with the full force of my being. I am usually a more subdued person so there was something freeing about being LOUD. Letting it all out. The midwife arrived and gave me the encouragement and enthusiasm I needed.”You’re so close” she soothed. “You really think so?” I responded. It sounded too good but I held onto that and it gave me strength.
When I felt the urge I began to push actively. I puuuuuushed through around 6 or 8 contractions and felt the familiar break. Then, with another contraction out came his head. Another push and his shoulder were released and out he came with praise hands lifted high.
And just like that he was in my arms. At 5pm on the dot. Full relief flooded. My husband cut the cord and we held our boy. Eight pounds 13 ounces of cheeky goodness.
Two hours later our two toddlers bounded into the delivery room to meet their new baby. They grabbed the blue rhino toy (as this was their gift to him) and placed it on his chest. He was covered with their kisses and gentle touches, already known and loved by them from the womb and now face to face.
We bestowed on him his name: Cedar Nigh.
Cedar meaning strength and Nigh meaning near. It is our prayer that he would be full of peace and strength that comes from abiding in the nearness of God.
I realized days later that Cedar’s birthday, October 8th, is national “face your fears day”
And it was...with God nigh.
