A Love Story 5-5-2013

I think of that moment in time....

I am in deep labor with my sixth child.  Arriving at the hospital 9cm. dilated.  A perfect labor.  Walking through the pastures, up hills and over rocks.  Playing with my Littles, riding the 4-wheeler with 10-year old Benjamin driving so very carefully for his uncomfortable Mama.  Not even realizing I was in labor.  Just thinking, "Maybe soon.  Maybe soon this baby will come."

Driving to the hospital after tucking all my precious ones into bed for the night.  A hot shower, a nap, a cup or two of warm beef broth--  hoping tonight would be the night but not counting on it.  I comment to husband--who is driving slowly, buying me some more precious moments--"I really want God to be the One directing all my steps but I so often feel that I am the one making the decisions!"  A cry of frustration at the not-knowing things.  Is it time?  Will I cry out for an epidural in my pain?  Am I weak for that?  Do I trust God enough to see me through whatever He knows is coming?
Anxious thoughts.  Anxious heart.  Faith colliding with thoughts and overwhelming feelings.

We arrive at the hospital.  I calmly ask for someone to check me-- I think maybe I've been in labor most of the day?  But I make it clear-- I want to go home if I'm not at least at a 5.  Don't put chains on me.  Don't lock me up.  Please don't lock me up!  No problem they say--  looking at one another with knowing looks-- this one is hopeful but out of here within the hour.

A kind nurse checks me.  "Uh huh,"  she utters.  I start to cry.  I knew it!  I'm going home.  The wait begins again.  The anxiousness of the decision making starts anew.  The exhaustion that will go on through another long night of sleeplessness.  "You're at a 9," she states.

My world flip-flops-- upside down and stays there.  "What?"  I ask incredeously.  That means I'm having this baby...soon....now!  I begin to be frightened of what I know is coming.  The pain of unmedicated childbirth which is quickly upon me.  My heart rate accelerates.  My whole body begins to tense up-- to fight against the pain I know is coming.  I panic.  I fight.  I scream for somebody to help me.  I have made up my mind-- I don't want to do this after all.  I can't.  I won't.  Oh but I must!

And in the midst of the pain-- excruciating, all consuming pain-- I am given a respite.  A place under the wing that God has prepared just for me, just for this moment.  A place where God and I can dwell together and He speaks softly to my fearful, fighting, exhausted heart.  "Do you trust Me?"
"Oh yeah, sure God.  I trust You.  I trust You can get me through whatever I have coming to me."
"Do you trust Me?"
"Um, yeah.  I know You are my all-powerful, all-knowing, never-gonna-leave-me-alone God.  I know You have promised You will bring me through whatever terrible thing You will allow to happen.  So, sure, yeah, I trust You."
"Do you trust My love for you?  My compassion for you, my child.  My daughter.  My Father-love that loves you to crawl up in My lap.  My Father-love that desires to hold you while you are hurting and understands this pain and wants to caress you and love you through it.  Do you trust my compassion and lovingkindness toward you, My precious daughter?"

I surrender.  I crawl into my Father's lap.  I cry on His shoulder.  I beg Him to help me because of His great love for me.  I see glimpses of His tenderness for His children.  Of His desire to love.  Of the pain He experienced giving up His own Son to the pain of suffering.  I am held.  I am covered.  I am in the most secure place.  I am loved with an everlasting love by a compassionate Father who understands I am but dust.  He is mindful of my human frailty and has compassion over me.   There is no shame.  I am singing, praising, my lips move in awe and thankfulness at what a wonderful, kind Father I have--  At His gift to me of His presence. 

Then, the moment is over and my body is racked with the seering pain of more and more and more contractions.  Then finally, in the blinding light, and through raw pain and real suffering, through the labors of what must be.... a child is born.  A precious son.  A gift.  A blessing.  A piece of God's own heart entrusted to me for a little while.  And I hold him close to my chest, skin on skin and he is comforted-- and I am comforted.  And we both begin to comprehend--  in those first few minutes of new life-- the compassionate love of a Father who loves and loves and loves to love.

Gage Alexander born 5-5-2013
Thank you O Father for the gift of this son and for the gift of Your loving presence.