Birth Story: God's glory shines either way.

Today is 3 months since I went into the hospital to meet Austin Mattias. I've had 13 weeks to process our birth story and come to terms with it.

When I was 7 years old, I visited my mom at the hospital after she delivered my second brother. Ever since then I dreamed of the day I would become a mom. I was with my mom once more and a few times with my aunts and cousins hours after they delivered babies. I loved hearing the stories of their labors. I was amazed at the strength they had to deliver naturally and without medication. I wanted to be just like them when I got older, strong and powerful.

When I found out I was pregnant again, and that the baby was healthy and would make it to term, I started preparing for my son's birth. I did a lot of reading on other birth stories and read on the different options of birth. I knew that I wanted to go to the hospital and do things as "naturally" as possible. I wanted to avoid an epidural or any other form of pain medication. I wanted to experience labor and delivery like the other women in my life. I wanted to be strong and powerful too.

Towards the end of my pregnancy, my OB asked me what my birth plan was. I explained to her that I wanted to avoid being induced and using an epidural. I definitely did not want a c-section. I had read all about the recovery being harder and the risks of surgery are always scary. I was glad that Brett supported me and promised to do as I asked when it came time to deliver our baby.

Ultimately, I did go in for an induction when Austin was giving no signs of coming and we passed our due date. I was filled with excitement when the time came to begin my laboring process. The doctor broke my water and I progressed really quickly, perhaps too quickly because I went from 2 cm dilation to a full 10 in less than 5 hours. But my birth plan didn't go the way I had always envisioned it.

Halfway through those 5 hours, the pain became so intense that I accepted the epidural. Brett who promised to listen to my plans reminded me of them but agreed that it was a good choice. My body was doing some hard work and needed to relax. Like I said, things progressed quickly and I was ready to start pushing as soon as I reached 10 cm. However, 4 hours later the baby had made no progress in coming down the birth canal; he was stuck in my pelvic bone, and his heart was in distress. His oxygen levels were dropping, so I was put on oxygen to help his increase. I was changed into 3 different positions for pushing but ultimately my body was wearing out.

My OB, who was beyond amazing through the whole pregnancy and delivery, said we may have to go into the OR if things don’t change quickly. She gave me the option of continuing to push or going in there now as the baby’s heart beat kept rising and dropping again. I pushed again for what seemed like hours and finally realized my baby is in distress and I was exhausted. Then my doctor said, we have to do the c-section now.

I looked at her and said okay, then looked at my husband whose face was full of fear and worry and I cried. Brett promised me it would be okay, my mom who had been in the room the whole time, cried with me and said another prayer with me before leaving the room as they wheeled me into surgery.  I closed my eyes and opened them back up in the OR when Brett was finally allowed to come in. I remember being so tired that I was falling asleep but kept telling myself that I couldn’t miss him being born. I then heard my doctor from the other side of the curtain say, "You’ll feel some pressure and tugging, but you won’t feel more than that.”

I felt the pressure and tugging right after that and then the most beautiful cry let out. I looked up at my husband and we both wept again. He got up after being reminded that he could, and went to see our son while I was stitched back up.

Then they brought him to me, opened my hospital gown and laid him on my chest, skin to skin. He was so perfect, at least what I could see of him through eyes full of joyful tears.

The next few weeks, I had the most difficult time accepting the fact that I didn’t deliver in the way that I had planned it. I wanted to be able to hold him immediately after he was out in the world rather than 10 minutes after. When he cried the first night, I couldn’t get up to hold him as the numbness in my legs prevented me from leaving the bed for 12 hours. I didn't feel like I was as strong and powerful as the other women in my family.

However, I prayed and allowed God into that guilt of mine just like I had asked him to be with me during labor and the emergency surgery. Somehow, I blocked His peace from my heart when I left the surgery room. I recovered physically with a lot of help from my husband in the next few days and weeks but it took longer for me to heal mentally and emotionally from that situation.

My son is 3 months old now and I'm learning so much about life and being a mother. In motherhood sometimes our goals, hopes and dreams don’t turn out the way we’d planned, leaving us racked with guilt that we have failed ourselves and our children. But these feelings are only crippling, and will steal our joy—if we let them.

As I work through my feelings, instead of focusing on the facts of what happened during my son’s birth, I am learning to be grateful for the truth that exists. I have to accept that things didn’t go the way I wanted but that God had still provided me with a way to give birth to a perfect and healthy baby boy. The truth  is that I had a longer recovery than a normal birth but my marriage is stronger because of it.  The truth is that I have a scar that goes from one side to the other of my abdomen but that serves as a reminder of how powerful and strong I am.