Newborn series: Part 1 -- Our birth story

Hello, dear friends and readers!

As I sit and write this post, the sun is lighting up the Canadian Cascade mountain range in view of my window, and I just finished my second cup of coffee for the day. How is it already March?!? Having a child makes the time go by so much more quickly...

Anyway, I am writing today to share our birth story with you. In many ways, it was not what we were expecting (no pun intended), but we cherish the memories of our son's birth and appreciate everything we have learned since that time.

Until the day before Asher was born, Kris and I had no idea how everything would go down. I had experienced some minor prodromal labor the week before, and we knew he could arrive any day. At 38 weeks and four days, I headed in to see my OB for a routine, third trimester checkup. They noticed that my blood pressure was unusually high -- something I had not experienced during the rest of the pregnancy -- and asked me to come back later for an ultrasound. Fortunately, the little man had a healthy heartbeat, and nothing else looked out of the ordinary.

A few hours later, I came back in for the ultrasound. It was magical to see my baby moving again on the screen! We hadn't seen him since our 20-week appointment, and I reveled in the opportunity to watch him kick and twist inside me. After the ultrasound, I was directed to a waiting room. My OB and the nurses determined that I had a LOT of extra fluid, and although they couldn't be certain, it appeared that the little man was not actually very little at all. Apparently, he looked like he might weigh over ten pounds!

As I sat in the parking lot and laid out all the details so Kris and I could discuss and find the best option together, I was feeling stunned at the magnitude of our decision. The options were (a) come in to the hospital tonight to be induced or (b) come in tomorrow for either an induction or a planned C-section. As you can probably imagine, both of these options filled us with excitement and fear. We were going to meet our baby, after months and months of waiting! But I was only dilated one centimeter, at the most, and although I had effaced some, this baby could be huge. Induction might end in a C-section, anyway, and we really wanted to avoid putting our baby boy into unnecessary distress.

Every couple facing these decisions must ultimately choose what they think is best for their family. We went with the planned C-section. After driving home and making dinner together, we told all the relevant family members what was going down the next day, packed our bags, and enjoyed our last full night of sleep before becoming parents. The following morning, we got everything ready to go in the car -- including the car seat! What a trip, knowing that our tiny dude would be coming home with us so soon! -- and set off to check in at 7:30 a.m. The operation was scheduled for 10 a.m.

We lingered in the lobby briefly before being admitted. Our families showed up shortly thereafter. Both sets of our parents and my brother came and spent some time with us in our room, which helped calm my nerves a little bit before we headed to the OR.

I was kinda freaking out. I had only had surgery once before, and it was a simple wisdom teeth extraction several years ago. I was under general anesthesia then, and although I woke up once, it didn't seem too difficult or scary to me.

The C-section was very different from any experience I have had, to date. First of all, you are awake and at least partially aware of what is going on the whole time. Although I had a spinal -- a form of anesthesia that cuts off all feeling below your mid-chest area -- I could still feel pressure. I don't remember very clearly what medication they gave me, besides the anesthesia, but whatever it was, I felt overwhelmed by all the stimuli in the room.

The OR is very cold and bright, and while I desperately wanted to get warm and find some relief from the blinding lights, I couldn't really move at all once the spinal was in place. I could bend my arms slightly, but the curtain in front of my face blocked any further movement. I felt almost claustrophobic because my head wasn't inclined but rested flat on the table.

At one point, I began to feel a tiny bit panicky. I couldn't go anywhere or do anything. This baby was going to be born imminently, and I didn't really have a say in the process anymore. I think my senses were also on overdrive from the cold, the lights, and the medication. The anesthesiologist had a gift for small talk, however, and distracted me until Kris came in and sat next to the table. I held his hand for the entire operation, which lasted maybe ten minutes.

Isn't that astonishing? Ten minutes, and then I was 45 pounds lighter and had a baby!*

I will never forget Asher's first cry. I heard his gurgly, screaming voice and spontaneously burst into tears. In that moment, an overwhelming, effusive love filled my heart for this little, tiny person who had just recently lived inside me. We had prayed countless prayers and imagined beautiful dreams for him, and here he was! Screaming and peeing on the nurses, but no less amazing, no less a miracle.

Several people had told me that I would not understand real love until I held my child for the first time. And I can say today, I think those people were definitely onto something. When I recall the moment I first held Asher on my chest, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I would readily sacrifice any part of me to keep him safe. I would spend my last bit of strength to protect him. I would love him as long as I lived, and he would always and forever be my baby boy.

Looking back to that moment makes me consider again the nature of God's love. Can you imagine, in light of the heart we have for our children, what God must feel toward us? Our love, however beautiful, is still a fractured reflection of the perfect love of a holy Father. He knows us before we are born (Jeremiah 1:5), he knows the number of hairs on our head (Luke 12:7), and he thinks so many thoughts toward us, they cannot be counted (Psalm 40:5)!

I am in awe of such a love. And I desire to live daily in light of it.

Well, thank you for reading our birth story and for visiting my blog today! I appreciate you and welcome your stories, as well! Please feel free to leave a comment or message me on the Facebook page for Mama Smith Writes.

Soli Deo Gloria

- Mama Smith

*I should add some minor commentary here... Part of me felt guilty that I had not experienced labor pain and an extended delivery with Asher's birth. When Kris and I wrote our birth plan, however, we agreed that our goal was to have a healthy baby. If that meant using a few interventions rather than going with natural labor, then so be it. If that meant having a C-section instead of pursuing labor at all, then we would still know we had made the most informed decision we could, and as long as our son arrived safely, we would count ourselves blessed. As it so happened, we used all of one sentence at the very bottom of our birth plan. But God allowed Asher to be born safely, and he is a happy and healthy boy. For these mercies, we are exceedingly grateful!

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