Psalm 31:14-24 from The Message...
14-18 Desperate, I throw myself on you: you are my God!
Hour by hour I place my days in your hand,
safe from the hands out to get me.
Warm me, your servant, with a smile;
save me because you love me.
Don't embarrass me by not showing up;
I've given you plenty of notice.
Embarrass the wicked, stand them up,
leave them stupidly shaking their heads
as they drift down to hell.
Gag those loudmouthed liars
who heckle me, your follower,
with jeers and catcalls.
19-22 What a stack of blessing you have piled up
for those who worship you,
Ready and waiting for all who run to you
to escape an unkind world.
You hide them safely away from the opposition.
As you slam the door on those oily, mocking faces,
you silence the poisonous gossip.
Blessed God! His love is the wonder of the world.
Trapped by a siege, I panicked.
"Out of sight, out of mind," I said.
But you heard me say it,
you heard and listened.
23 Love God, all you saints;
God takes care of all who stay close to him,
But he pays back in full
those arrogant enough to go it alone.
24 Be brave. Be strong. Don't give up.
Expect God to get here soon.
Expect God. What are my expectations of God?
The expectation that God will do something is different than asking Him. When someone has shown you they will do something, regularly and on-time, you come to expect that of them. You trust that they will do as they always have done. You expect it. You don't need to ask because you trust that thing is already completed or in the works of completion.
There's so much that I desire right now that I can't accomplish on my own. To grow closer with God and to Ben (and deepening our spiritual relationship with one another), to find a church where Ben, Gabe, and I can grow, to get a new job so I can experience the special, mundane everyday with my precious baby, to be a better person.
But I can't do all those things by myself... and even if I did, how good would it be if God wasn't in it? I could try to go it alone, but I don't want to. I'm sick of trying to make things happen on my own. I'm spiritually tired of trying to sustain myself.
Drawing on my recent experience of becoming a mother, I'm able to see some interesting parallels. Just as I was expecting a son and he was given to Ben and I, I'm expecting God to birth something new in my spirit and in my life. I'm expecting it because that's what He's always done. I've asked Him for the aforementioned things, but I expect that He will do what He has done before-- answer in His timing. And whatever happens... my expectation is that His will for me will be perfect.
I just need to be brave and strong and not give up that God will show Himself... and He will show up soon.
January 26, 2012
January 18, 2012
On Birth, Part 2
Now where was I? Oh yes.
... Ben had actually been looking forward to breaking the land speed record on the way to the hospital, but since it was around 1 o'clock and we weren't on the interstate there was zero traffic. And since Mom was riding with us in the car so she could man the contraction timer I doubt he wanted to push his luck. He did run a red light at the hospital though... just because he could. When we arrived at the hospital, I was sat down in a wheelchair and carted up to Labor & Delivery. The nurses wheeled me into a room, hooked me up to the monitor and asked me about 5,000 questions. Was I doing drugs? Was Ben abusing me? Was that really amniotic fluid or had I just peed? (Just kidding on that last one, but at first I think they thought I was bluffing.)
After they decided that I wasn't faking and that I was truly in the throes of labor, I was already 2cm dilated and having contractions that were about 3 minutes apart and getting stronger. I had decided (and talked to Ben about) my hesitation to have an epidural right away, but as far as pain medication goes I wasn't really strongly leaning one way or another. I know some women are very anti-drug during labor and some women want it as soon as they feel their first contraction. I was somewhere in between. So they hooked me up to an IV and gave me so much fluid that my wrists and ankles started to resemble flesh-like balloons. I got to the point where laying down wasn't comfortable, so Mom and Jessica and I started walking the halls. I had to stop every once and a while for a strong contraction or to have a nurse check my progress, but I walked the halls of L&D about every hour from 2 o'clock in the morning until about 9.
And that's when the pains really started to get bad. I thought I had prepared myself for it, but I don't think it's something you can really prepare yourself for. It was an onslaught. I broke my resolve and got some morphine through my IV and Gone with the Wind was on the television and Mom was sitting down beside me and I would watch the monitor religiously because it made me feel better to know when a contraction peaked, because once it peaked it usually went down... Usually. That's what I remember. Glimpses of memories through a wilderness of pain. I lost all charm, all wit, most of my intelligible motor functions. I tried to pray and lost my place. I kept thinking two words and repeated them over and over again in my head like a broken record: Ben, baby, Ben, baby, Ben, baby. Over and over again. I wondered how much longer it would be. The nurse came in and checked me around 11 and I thought that surely with all this pain I must be almost done and ready to push, right? Right?
Nope. Only 6cm. I still had 4 to go. The nurse asked me if I wanted an epidural and after talking to Mom and Ben, weighing the options of taking the medicine and worrying about the complications of the drugs (a possible C-section... which I definitely didn't want to happen) or keeping on with this excruciating pain. I had a tough decision to make. But with every contraction I knew it was bringing me closer to seeing my son. It was pain with a purpose, but pain nonetheless. He was barreling down, excavating my flesh and bone, whether I was ready or not.
I decided on the epidural.
To be continued...
... Ben had actually been looking forward to breaking the land speed record on the way to the hospital, but since it was around 1 o'clock and we weren't on the interstate there was zero traffic. And since Mom was riding with us in the car so she could man the contraction timer I doubt he wanted to push his luck. He did run a red light at the hospital though... just because he could. When we arrived at the hospital, I was sat down in a wheelchair and carted up to Labor & Delivery. The nurses wheeled me into a room, hooked me up to the monitor and asked me about 5,000 questions. Was I doing drugs? Was Ben abusing me? Was that really amniotic fluid or had I just peed? (Just kidding on that last one, but at first I think they thought I was bluffing.)
After they decided that I wasn't faking and that I was truly in the throes of labor, I was already 2cm dilated and having contractions that were about 3 minutes apart and getting stronger. I had decided (and talked to Ben about) my hesitation to have an epidural right away, but as far as pain medication goes I wasn't really strongly leaning one way or another. I know some women are very anti-drug during labor and some women want it as soon as they feel their first contraction. I was somewhere in between. So they hooked me up to an IV and gave me so much fluid that my wrists and ankles started to resemble flesh-like balloons. I got to the point where laying down wasn't comfortable, so Mom and Jessica and I started walking the halls. I had to stop every once and a while for a strong contraction or to have a nurse check my progress, but I walked the halls of L&D about every hour from 2 o'clock in the morning until about 9.
And that's when the pains really started to get bad. I thought I had prepared myself for it, but I don't think it's something you can really prepare yourself for. It was an onslaught. I broke my resolve and got some morphine through my IV and Gone with the Wind was on the television and Mom was sitting down beside me and I would watch the monitor religiously because it made me feel better to know when a contraction peaked, because once it peaked it usually went down... Usually. That's what I remember. Glimpses of memories through a wilderness of pain. I lost all charm, all wit, most of my intelligible motor functions. I tried to pray and lost my place. I kept thinking two words and repeated them over and over again in my head like a broken record: Ben, baby, Ben, baby, Ben, baby. Over and over again. I wondered how much longer it would be. The nurse came in and checked me around 11 and I thought that surely with all this pain I must be almost done and ready to push, right? Right?
Nope. Only 6cm. I still had 4 to go. The nurse asked me if I wanted an epidural and after talking to Mom and Ben, weighing the options of taking the medicine and worrying about the complications of the drugs (a possible C-section... which I definitely didn't want to happen) or keeping on with this excruciating pain. I had a tough decision to make. But with every contraction I knew it was bringing me closer to seeing my son. It was pain with a purpose, but pain nonetheless. He was barreling down, excavating my flesh and bone, whether I was ready or not.
I decided on the epidural.
To be continued...
January 2, 2012
On Birth, Part 1
A little over a month after having Gabe, I finally feel like I've processed what happened enough to write about all my experiences... So from what I can remember, here is Gabriel's birth story:
Black Friday, November 25, 2011 was just that-- black. And bleak and sad. I was a week overdue and I was mentally and physically exhausted. My Sister-in-Law had just had her baby and I was happy for her, but I was jealous. I wanted to see mine. So, that evening I was sitting on the computer, pouring over every website I could find, drinking tea made out of cumin seeds (I cringe at the thought) and waiting and hoping and praying.
Earlier that day Mom and Jessica forced me out of the house so we could shop and walk around (even though I knew at that point walking wasn't going to help, I indulged them). I endured endless questions about the contractions that I hadn't experienced and had to keep giving the same answer, "No." It tore at me a little each time and I began to wonder if something was wrong with Gabriel or with me... Either way, I had resigned myself to Monday when I was scheduled for a C-section, a route I didn't want to go, but I was so desperate to see my baby I would've done anything at that point. Literally anything.
On the way home from walking aimlessly, we stopped by CVS and picked up a small thing of Castor Oil, a strong laxative that is supposed to stimulate contractions by messing up your stomach like nothing else. So when I got home I drank some in orange juice (worst.decision.ever.) and nothing happened. After an hour or so, I drank another dose straight (did I mention worst.decision.ever?). Then my stomach was a little upset, but nothing like I had read would happen, so Ben and I went to bed around 10 o'clock tired disappointed. Around 11:30, however, I woke up with the worst stomach cramps I had ever experienced. I quite literally thought I was going to die on the toilet that night. Fast forward half an hour (I'll spare you the gruesome details) and I finally made it back to bed... Only to be awoken with the sensation that I was peeing. But I couldn't stop it.
I jumped out of bed (because who wants a bed covered in amniotic fluid? Not me. Ugh.) and turned on the light and all this fluid came out and I was so excited and yelled at Ben (who, I will never forget, promptly sat up in bed and said, "It's GO TIME!") and and we called mom and my contractions started and they hurt and we were timing them and getting everything ready to go.
Mom, Dad, and Jessica met us at the house and we got in the car around 1 o'clock in the morning and headed down the road to the hospital... What I'll never get over is how quickly it happened. This was the moment we had been building up to for 9 months. We were going to be bringing home a son. Our son. But now, it was hurry up and wait-- and wait we did.
To be continued...
Black Friday, November 25, 2011 was just that-- black. And bleak and sad. I was a week overdue and I was mentally and physically exhausted. My Sister-in-Law had just had her baby and I was happy for her, but I was jealous. I wanted to see mine. So, that evening I was sitting on the computer, pouring over every website I could find, drinking tea made out of cumin seeds (I cringe at the thought) and waiting and hoping and praying.
Earlier that day Mom and Jessica forced me out of the house so we could shop and walk around (even though I knew at that point walking wasn't going to help, I indulged them). I endured endless questions about the contractions that I hadn't experienced and had to keep giving the same answer, "No." It tore at me a little each time and I began to wonder if something was wrong with Gabriel or with me... Either way, I had resigned myself to Monday when I was scheduled for a C-section, a route I didn't want to go, but I was so desperate to see my baby I would've done anything at that point. Literally anything.
On the way home from walking aimlessly, we stopped by CVS and picked up a small thing of Castor Oil, a strong laxative that is supposed to stimulate contractions by messing up your stomach like nothing else. So when I got home I drank some in orange juice (worst.decision.ever.) and nothing happened. After an hour or so, I drank another dose straight (did I mention worst.decision.ever?). Then my stomach was a little upset, but nothing like I had read would happen, so Ben and I went to bed around 10 o'clock tired disappointed. Around 11:30, however, I woke up with the worst stomach cramps I had ever experienced. I quite literally thought I was going to die on the toilet that night. Fast forward half an hour (I'll spare you the gruesome details) and I finally made it back to bed... Only to be awoken with the sensation that I was peeing. But I couldn't stop it.
I jumped out of bed (because who wants a bed covered in amniotic fluid? Not me. Ugh.) and turned on the light and all this fluid came out and I was so excited and yelled at Ben (who, I will never forget, promptly sat up in bed and said, "It's GO TIME!") and and we called mom and my contractions started and they hurt and we were timing them and getting everything ready to go.
Mom, Dad, and Jessica met us at the house and we got in the car around 1 o'clock in the morning and headed down the road to the hospital... What I'll never get over is how quickly it happened. This was the moment we had been building up to for 9 months. We were going to be bringing home a son. Our son. But now, it was hurry up and wait-- and wait we did.
To be continued...
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