The last image I had was childbirth.
Let me preface this post by saying: No birth story is better than another. Whether you adopted, epidural-ed it, had a cesarean, IVF-ed it, took all the drugs, took zero drugs, had a midwife, had a doctor, or got your baby from the stork (tell me how), you are giving and nurturing the life that God chose to bless you with. And that is a beautiful thing.
This is just the story behind our decision; I'm certainly not trying to be a pompous ass and say it is the way.
Natural childbirth was a completely foreign, atrocious idea to me not very long ago. I had a very creepy, wonky view of midwives (before I actually met one). Who are these strange hippy women who didn't go to medical school that get up close to your lady business? Where are the doctors? I also had a preconceived notion that people who used midwives were poor; they couldn't afford "real" medicine. And what, no epidural? Uh, no thanks. Did these women think they had gold-encrusted vaginas or something?
The entire concept was just cooky to me. No way in hell was I going to have a baby like that--how outdated, how unsafe, how weird.
And then I met a wonderful gal at our church who is studying to be a midwife. (Isn't it funny how God brings people into your life to completely shatter all your crazy misconstrued ideas?) Something she said to me that I'll never forget: You can choose to have a natural birth for the wrong reasons, and you can choose to have a hospital birth for the wrong reasons. Which one, Jena, are you trusting God in?
It became painfully obvious to me that I wasn't trusting God. At all. Only 7 weeks into this pregnancy, and I was already making all the decisions. My way. My body. My decision on how to pop this kiddo out. It's as if I was saying, "Thanks for the baby, Lord, but I think I can take it from here." (Ha. Right.)
Tasha encouraged us to read, to visit the birth center, to ask questions, and most importantly to pray. So we did, and it's amazing how lead we felt to natural childbirth.
At our Birth Center, there are five women who know us. They're incredibly knowledgeable, sweet, encouraging, etc. They know who I am. They know Grahm. They care about my baby, my husband, me. We aren't another face in a crowd. We aren't just another appointment. It's a holistic approach to childbirth. It's community. It's everything we could ever want in the care of our little one.
We couldn't be happier with this God-lead decision. It's one I would have rolled my eyes at a few months ago, but God truly has changed our hearts in the process.
I think there's something completely beautiful, terrifying, and soul searching in allowing God to step into the places we're most afraid. Because let's face it, I'm a bit panicked at the idea of pushing a pot roast out of my lady nostril. There are times, I will admit, that I think I'm crazy. I want to take control of the situation. I want the drugs. I want to do it on my own. It's incredibly hard to trust.
There's still a chance that I could become a high-risk pregnancy, and my birth plan will get all cattywompus. The whole point though, for me, in this journey so far is understanding that God is the author and giver of life. He really is, as difficult as it is to admit for this Type A planner, in charge of my birth plan. And whatever He wants really is the best way to be.