Delivery Room Angst

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.   (Hebrews 11: 1 NKJV)

 It’s official. The test is positive. The doctor confirms it. You text the news, facebook it, phone your closest friends and family. The excitement will not be subdued.

You are having a baby.

Books begin to stack up on the counters and coffee tables, describing the months ahead. Baby name books appear. You’ve given all the stellar advice and now you and Hubby will get to implement those ideals in your own parenting adventure.

Soon, you have your first sonogram. The picture, although fuzzy and unclear, is amazing and is given the place of honor on the fridge where all visitors will see. Grandma might even ask for her own copy to show off to friends at her meetings—baby’s first photograph. It means nothing to those on the periphery, but they nod and smile anyway, politely allowing you your moment of glory.

Weeks spin into months. You feel the first kick then the elbow distorts your side. Before long, you have an acrobat turning your stomach into romper room and you begin to feel a bit motion sick. Bulges appear and disappear at random.

Boy . . . girl . . . it doesn’t matter. Baby’s a life and you can’t wait.

Kelly

Friends and family shower you—well, baby anyway—with gifts. The nursery fills with everything from the crib to stroller, bathtub to changing table, clothes to diapers. Of course, many of them have had babies and are familiar with all that babies need.

You gravitate to that room often, staring at the new furniture that awaits its owner. Days click by. The due date passes. You become certain the bulge in front of you will forever be that thing keeping you from getting through tiny spaces.

But then . . . the day arrives. You know this is it. Hubby stays home from work, the family’s been called. Text messages zip through the contacts’ lists. Baby is on the way.

The nurse confirms this with a quick—uncomfortable—check. You’re moving along nicely.

That is until it all stops. Contractions have stalled. You and Hubby chat, nap, and maybe play a game of cards.

As per doctor’s orders, Pitocin is administered, and labor is induced. At first it’s okay, but soon you are convinced this is worse than smashing your thumb. Once in a while you get a break, but only long enough for another contraction to come along. Under normal circumstances, drugs are out of the question, but in this instance, the nurses are called upon to bring you the strongest drug they’ve got.

It is certain… this will NEVER end. The baby likes it where it’s warm and the hospital room is cold. You look at Hubby, “That’s it. I’m done. Let’s go home. We can try again another day, okay? Or better yet, let’s just forget this. I’ll probably be a terrible mom. I don’t know what to do with a baby.”

Kelly 19 on 9/12/2011

He looks at you, says nothing. Later you learn that aliens had stolen his tongue, refusing to return it unless he promised to ignore all your pleas, regardless how much you begged. He’ll never admit this though, because all he can remember is the doctor calling his name, “Mr. _____, come see.” Hubby couldn’t resist the opportunity to watch as Baby made an appearance for the first time.

The adventure has begun.

You beam with pleasure whenever anyone gazes upon your infant. She’s amazing, perfect, and makes the curtest little gurgle noises when sleeping. Interestingly, you give no more thought to the moments before when you swore this moment would never arrive.

“A woman, when she is in labor, has sorrow because her hour has come; but as soon as she has given birth to the child, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world.” (John 16: 21 NKJV)

Stephen 18 on 1/24/2012

How familiar this is to anyone waiting for the fulfillment of a promise. We cling to hope in a promise (our baby) whatever it is, whether financial turn-around, fulfillment of a dream, healing of a loved one, that long awaited degree, contract, engagement, wedding, etc. Each promise has, since its conception, been spread around, discussed, and shared. Those on the periphery listen and are hopeful for us; but after a while, there’s the feeling they are nodding, smiling, politely letting us talk.

There comes a day, when we’ve hoped for as long as we could. What appears to be breakthrough (Braxton-hicks) excites us, only to let us down. We begin to wonder after a while whether the promise will ever come. Sometimes, we think, “Maybe I should just forget it and go home. Life as I know it isn’t really all that bad without that promise.”

We might also doubt our ability to handle that promise once it has materialized. A friend once said, "You are the perfect mother for this baby. If you weren't God wouldn't have chosen you to carry this child." God knows. He chose you to carry this promise, dream, passion. He has given you all you need to carry it out, especially His strength.

Listen: If God promised something, it’s His intention and plan to fulfill it.  

Focus on Him who will bring about delivery rather than on the pain that so often comes with delay.

“By faith Sarah herself also received strength to conceive seed, and she bore a child when she was past the age, because she judged Him faithful who had promised.” (Hebrews 11: 11 NKJV)