“John 16:21 When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world.”
I have read this verse countless times before and wondered what it would be like to be the woman scripture speaks of. What would it be like to endure this ‘sorrow’? And what perfect joy must follow? It was so easy for me to focus only on the latter part of the verse. Our hearts embrace the encouraging while trying to blot out the inevitable. But we, well, at least I, forgot that in order to attain the joy of the second – you must bear the suffering of the first. This verse took on new meaning and life for me Tuesday, September 13th.
As are most women by the end of their pregnancy, I was dying to have my baby. The aches and pains of pregnancy are at and all time high and, after over 5 months of debilitating back pain, I was begging the Lord to let this baby come early. My husband and I had just settled down into bed within the past 20 minutes when I began to have fairly intense back pain – not an uncommon occurance. After about 10 minutes of trying to fall asleep (it was 10:30) I decided to get up to stretch out the muscles (as I have done hundreds of times before) when I felt a huge gush. Besides being initially extremely disgusted, I quickly realized what had happened – my water had broken, and 2 weeks early! I suppose my husband and I weren’t prepared to have the Lord answer the prayer for an early birth because we were pathetically unprepared. Everyone in my family had gone into labor after their due dates – I assumed I would follow suit. The car seat wasn’t in the car, the bags were only half packed, and we totally forgot about the snacks we were going to sneak into the labor and delivery room :o) (For those of you who don’t know, most hospitals don’t let you eat during labor and, as labor often last 15-20 hours, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to do a natural labor without a little energy from the food). At this point, I had no contractions, so we hoped that we would be able to get a little sleep that night and I could labor at home for a bit before going to the hospital. No such luck. When we called, they told us to come to the hospital immediately, so we quickly packed our bags, threw the uninstalled car seat in the car, and headed straight for the hospital – right after a quick pit stop to CVS for some snacks. :o)
I felt a little silly being wheeled up to the OB floor in a wheelchair when I hadn’t had a single contraction yet, but they insisted. Upon arriving in the labor room, I had a brief encounter with the nurse in which I had to argue with her for the next 30 minutes that my water had in fact broken (after the initial litmus test came up negative, she told me I may have just peed my pants – to which I asked her if you can go through 4 pads and a towel without recognizing that you are peeing). If it didn’t come up positive, they were going to send us home because I wasn’t having contractions yet. Thankfully, the 2nd she took off the towel and it was positive. Then the contractions came around 11:30pm. What started out as a simple mild irritation somewhat resembling minstrel cramps, quickly turned into wave after wave of incredible pain. As the previous contraction dies away and you are left with a few moments of peace and breathing time before the next wave swallows you up. How I learned to value my husband on that day. To the contrary of what media made me believe, I clung to my husband and held him close (literally – leaning all my weight against him was my favorite comfort technique for contractions) as well and clinging to each word of encouragement he gave me. Every, “What a beautiful work you are doing today” and “I am so proud of you for loving our son in this way” was not lost to hollow ears. They encouraged me forward and allowed me to keep focused on why I had chosen to avoid any interventions in the birth.
My friend Amanda showed up about 6 hours into my labor and worked as a sort of doula. Lord knows how she did it, but even at 4 cm dilation, she was able get me to sleep for about 30 minutes by rubbing my back in certain ways. With Braden and Amanda switching in and out as I used different techniques for dealing with contractions (the birthing ball, massaging, lunges, leaning), I felt such unconditional love! Two of the most important people in my life standing next to me as the Lord did a great and mighty work! I am so thankful for such an experience. However, at 7 cm dilation, after 14 hours of labor, I did crack. I got the epidural I had been hoping to avoid (although what I was really trying to avoid was pitocin). I won’t lie, while I was disappointed, the relief given to me by that epidural gave me nothing but elation, lol. With the help of the lowest dosage of pitocin, I was about to dilate to 10 within about an hour. I was so excited I was going to get to meet our baby so very soon! Or so I thought…
First off, let me mention the 2 downsides to the epidural itself. 1) For some people, it renders your body completely paralyzed from the waist down – as it did me. I literally had zero feeling in my legs, toes, and pelvis area. The nurses had to pick up my legs for me to change positions in any way. 2) It makes it so you feel no contractions whatsoever, therefore inhibiting your ability to feel the natural urge to push the baby out. Well, for me, trying to push with that epidural on proved not only to be challenging, but impossible. Without the urge to push, I couldn’t figure out what muscles to use to push. I don’t often try to push things out of there with those muscles. After 2 hours, the doc decided that, that was enough. Dr. Hopf had me do something called ‘epidural down’ - which basically means, tough luck, you can’t have the epidural if you want the baby to come out vaginally. So, they took out the epidural, let it wear off for an hour, and then boy did I ever feel the urge to push! The contractions hit like a brick wall after feeling absolutely nothing for a few hours, but at least now they had a purpose. I vaguely remember being a little self conscious about the way I was wailing through each contraction, and the look of pain and empathy on both Braden and Amanda’s faces as they watched me attempt to push for the next 2 hours. Once again, even with the urge to push, I couldn’t figure out how to get little Asher out. He was lodged crooked in the vaginal canal and his shoulders were making movement very difficult. The doctor suggested we take a new course of action – a cesarean birth. I remember thinking, “No, this can’t happen. I didn’t do natural labor for this to happen. You can’t take away my chance at a big family by giving me a cesarean birth on the first child! Please God, no…” It was the very thing I had labored 14 hours to avoid. I began to cry and the doctor, I think feeling more sorry for me than anything, said, “Ok, I will give this 30 more minutes” – but it was obvious he did not believe the results would be different. And the Lord was so merciful! I remember begging God outloud to please help me as I pushed with everything I had. After 20 minutes, when I had all but given up, as I continued to plead with God for strength and for the ability to push the baby out, Asher finally moved. Not much, but something! I had FINALLY figured out which muscles to use to get him out. And, praise the Lord, the doctor came back in and announced that he had moved far enough that we were going to try for the vaginal birth I longed for. A c-section on the first child would have all but ruined our shot at a large family, as it can be dangerous after 3 kids and most doctors won’t do a vaginal delivery after a cesarean. And, within 10 minutes, and an episiotomy, Asher, with his beautiful skin and full head of dark hair was in my arms. And I forgot everything else. I forgot about the previous 21 hours which I do not hesitate to say were the hardest and most painful of my life. I was the woman scripture spoke of who “forgot her sorrow… for the joy of the human being brought into the world”. Braden and I wept for joy as we could finally embrace the fruit of a long 9 months and painful labor. I praise the Lord for the ways I had to die to myself for my son. It taught me patience and obedience and taught Braden leadership and how to cherish and empathize with his wife. It made the fruit all the sweeter.
As I look at my son at the very moment, I am filled with awe that the Lord gives such good gifts. The mass of tissue from 9 months ago is a beautiful baby boy. Asher Christian Gogel – may he live up to his name and be ‘joy and happiness’ to others and our family. Soli deo Gloria to God for this miracle.
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