Birth Stories

Well you know there is nothing more a mom loves to hear and share than birth stories! I only have one child, but I bet no matter how many you have you remember every one because they are all unique. And wonderful. And bloody. And fairly disgusting. I read a wonderful blog post HERE (okay, well I'm having trouble making the "insert link" thing work - here-
http://itsalmostnaptime.blogspot.com/2009/12/birth-stories.html )
giving thought to what Mary went through to help God fulfill His perfect plan to deliver our Deliverer. Also, yesterday at church a friend sang a beautiful song about it. I'm going to try to find the lyrics.

So TODAY commemerates MY birth story. YES, my daughter is officially six years old today! I can not believe it. I have to say it is a pretty interesting one. And while that could be debatable, what I know for certain is that it WAS a miraculous one.

Man, I had been feeling bad. I was hurting all the time. I had to sit all the time, how on earth was I going to go on like this for 15 more weeks?? I was teaching kindergarten - not exactly a sitting down occupation! I talked to my doctor about it on Tuesday, December 16th at my check-up. She said I had Braxton-Hicks and gave me a sympathetic nod.

The next morning I lost my mucus plug. Here is a little of that disgusting part we discussed earlier.

I knew immediately what it was, as there was no mistaking it. I called the doctor and they said I better come on in. I wondered if I had time to go ahead and do my Christmas shopping. I had been waiting for my Christmas bonus and I had just gotten it that morning, hmmmm.....

I got to the doctor's office and my regular doctor wasn't there, I later realized how brilliantly God worked that out. I saw a new young, however very knowledgable and capable doctor. She checked me out, turned to the nurse and told her to "call downstairs", turned to me and Brandon and said a sentence that changed our lives forever,

"You are dilated 3 centimeters, 50% effaced, and your water is bulging."

I think we were all pretty shocked. She looked through my chart - perfectly normal. We all stared at each other for a moment before I asked, "What does this mean?"

She told me she was admitting me to the hospital. They were getting a wheelchair for me to take me downstairs. Then she went on to tell me thhings like a 25 week infant "could be viable". What? Well, that's all good, but there was no way I was having this baby now. Things like that just don't happen, do they?

I went to this mysterious "downstairs" and stayed all night with bright lights in my face, the hardest bed you can ever imagine, and a nurse by my side every minute. I had IV's, discussions with a group of people I never knew existed - neonatologists, and experienced the joy of the catheter.

And still, I had no comprehension of the gravity of the situation. I think it was a sort of defense mechanism that God installs in us. Like survival mode. You know how we think we want to know what God knows, but really if we did we would probably curl up under a rock somewhere?