August 29th, 2013: A Birth Day Poem
For months we’ve anticipated, now it’s reality.
Waters broken, world’s changing…
It’s surreal in those early morning hours, to think that this is the day –
And isn’t this the day we prayed for? The exact day.
A day already full of life, with a new little life ready to be known.
And we’re ready too. Our family is ready for you.
This tightening and this releasing – the rhythm is right and good and natural.
But this surrender is spiritual, this assurance supernatural.
I rock, we play, we laugh, I focus, he counts, I rock, I breathe. I breathe. We call.
I don’t know what I’m doing, but my body doesn’t care. It just carries on.
Time to go. Also time to push. Not great timing.
You’re so ready and the pressure is proof.
Holding back turns out to be more work than bearing down.
Now this physical necessity has consumed me and nothing else matters.
Totally focused, I breathe and hold. Car tires turn and I make it – barefoot, but I make it…
Shoes are so far from being a priority. And besides, it’s August.
Suspicion confirmed – I am fully open, fully ready. You are coming!
Permission or not, I am pushing. Never been here before, but there is no question in my mind about what to do.
Position assumed, I’m vocalizing a sort of guttural birth song – the sound of productive work.
No time to doubt or fear…really, for the first time ever, no time to think.
(Also, no need to and no energy available if I wanted to.)
My body was built to do this. It’s time to trust the Designer.
The ebb and flow is gracious, really.
Without the calm, the intensity would be exhausting.
As it is, I’m working hard. He is helping, encouraging, smiling.
She is checking, preparing, explaining…and it’s all happening so fast.
One hour of hard work for the best prize, the greatest gift.
One hour of bearing down, of groaning out, of breathing in, of being used up.
I’m exhausting myself in a mission so worthy of the effort.
And now this simple room – yellow walls that have witnessed thousands of births –
It’s home to my most vivid, precious memories.
A beautiful place where the natural and supernatural collide, in a messy scene of sheets and blood and smiles and cries…
Of fresh, softest skin just longing to be touched. And I do touch you.
I can’t help to. Because when I’ve strained and pushed and released for the last time,
I look down and my whole heart takes you in for the first time. I am overwhelmed.
We rest there for a few hours and just breath deep, the air of new life.
We exchange smiles with the ones we love, we pass you around
And we forget to sleep – we can’t. Adrenaline I’ve felt before, but this…its a new high.
We take you home and the house is full of love and good food, which is sort of like edible love.
Together, we all eat and visit and laugh, we talk and plan and remember just a few short hours ago when you were still unknown.
You sleep mostly.
Summer evenings are my favorite and this is one of the best. It’s quiet and real.
I’m starting to process this reality and I’m drowning in gratitude.
Laying in my own bed, on white sheets, the bright red of still wet blood catches my eye.
I’ve spotted it in the crease between nail and toe. A spot missed.
A reminder of today – the raw, uncut experience.
Pure exhilaration, if I had to choose just a couple of words.
In your basket beside our bed, you’ve already gotten a head start on this first night of family rest.
Time for us to join you. We just can’t get over it –can’t believe that you’re ours.
You are ours to love, but that’s the easy part.
You are also ours to train, to protect, to discipline, to defend, to teach…and to give back.
Because really, you are not ours. You’re HIS.
Everything about this day just proves its true. And it hits me so hard I can feel the weight of it.
I did not form you in the womb, nor did I knit you together so perfectly.
I did not sustain you with a simple cord and a temporary organ – I would not have even considered that option.
How strange and wonderful!
I did not urge my body to contract in rhythm or request the literal structure of my bones to make room.
How could I pretend that I had anything to do with this miracle apart from simple submission?
He is Creator God and for a moment, He let us share in His work.
Bringing forth life – its what He does best.
So this is our charge, our new life mission…
To raise up the next generation,
To tear down the lies of the enemy,
To live out the truth,
To point the way so you will know Him.