I never get tired of telling of that day after two college finals. That boy had already made his mark. His mama carrying him through college classes with professors looking too concerned that a birth might happen in their classroom. She was something of a novelty. But so was he.
I had a hair appointment that day. Plans to get ready for that last few days of being a household of three. Plans to ready myself for the next four weeks of Christmas break between college terms with a new baby. Plans to finish Christmas shopping for that precocious four-year old girl. Little did I know how fast that four-year old girl would grow-up. Literally in 3 hours.
I have always had an internal alarm clock. That day it went off around 6:00 am. (Which is a late morning these days!) I got up with a little discomfort. Got in the shower. Shaved my legs. That pain is a little intense. Let’s wait it out. Put make-up on. That pain is coming closer together. Might need to tell the husband. Dry the hair. Whoa! Need to get that four-year old up. Need to call the sister to meet us at the hospital. It is time.
That sister beats us to the hospital. Takes charge of the four-year old. Sign-in at the emergency room at 7:30 am. We tell the desk contractions are about two to three minutes apart. There is time.
An attendant wearing a back brace pushing a wheel-chair comes to escort us directly to the second floor. He proceeds to explain that if I need to sit in the chair to let him know and he will stop. He cannot push me in the chair because of his back and cannot allow my husband to. They are coming closer. The five of us get on the elevator. I remember gripping the hand-rail inside that elevator. I don’t think I sat down though. Thankful for the fact we only had to ride to the second floor. There is time.
Greeted with news all the labor/delivery rooms are full. There are labor rooms available but I will have to be moved in order to deliver because they are not fully equipped for delivery. Okay. There is time.
We begin to get settled. Say our goodbyes to the four-year old excited that her aunt is taking her to breakfast. Even now I remember that long-haired little girl with a heart way bigger than mine being excited about her brother coming. With her out of the room we proceed with changing clothes, climbing a big pregnant body into a regular hospital bed, monitors strapped on, IV started. They check the progress. Better call the doctor. It is about 8:00 am. There is time.
My parents arrive. Small talk. Thinking this might be a long day. Someone needs to call and cancel my hair appointment. The doctor comes in fresh from the shower with hair still dripping. Dad leaves the room. Doctor checks progress. “Are you ready to have this baby?” “What? Like now?” “Yes, like now. You need to push.” “Yes, I know.” It is about 8:10 am. It is time.
I will never forget the look of concern on my mama’s face. I will never forget the realization of her going through this five times. Realizing she had the same fears and joy with each birth. Seeing the olders before and seeing them after and how fast they grew.
My husband’s eyes get red each time I give birth. That day was no different. This was his first boy. He already had hunting and fishing plans with him. Someone a name could be given to. Someone to love for the rest of his life. He was right beside me. Ready to assist with whatever was needed.
This is happening too fast. There is no time to get me to a delivery room. Carts start coming through the door of that little room. The doctor climbs up on that flat hospital bed. Let’s do this.
8:32 am, a red-headed, blue-eyed baby boy entered that room with a set of lungs that wanted to be heard. The husband all red-eyed. The Nana concerned and amazed and in love. The doctor trying her best in an awkward position. And me, looking at that red-headed baby boy, holding him on top of me, and for just a minute I remember it is just him and me. My boy. How is it possible to love the second as much as the first? It just is. And later it would be for the third. What a gift of love God gives to mothers!
What a day!
I think that birth pains continue for mothers long after the birth of a child. Not just in those short moments after holding your baby for the first time in your arms, but for years. Maybe even for the rest of your life.
That inital letting go from your body is only the beginning of letting go. While in womb, a mother feeds and nourishes a growing body other than her own. She is the only source of sustenance for that little one. That child is fully dependent on her. But once the child is born, everyday, that child becomes a little more independent. Their perception begins to develop and begins to build a self-thinking, bull-headed, loud-crying, stubborn boy. Oh, wait. I mean they develop into a smart, kind-hearted, sensible, dependable adult.
And he is leaving home this weekend. We pack him up today to move him over six hours away. I won’t be able to get to him in the time it took me to birth him. But God has watched over him for twenty-two years and He won’t stop now.
We send him off covered in prayers. Excited to see what God does in his life. Certain that God will protect him. Knowing he can do anything. Praying he will move closer to home after his professional education is finished in three years.
He isn’t my little boy anymore. He doesn’t want to snorkel with me in the bay while we hold hands anymore. He doesn’t need me to provide nourishment or nurturing anymore.
We will pull out of the driveway tomorrow morning to deliver him into a new chapter of his life. We will return in a few days to begin a new chapter of ours with only one child left at home. My heart seems to be getting weaker with each one. Having these babies all spread out is tough. Too many emotions and stages of life to juggle between them all!
Behold, children are a gift of the Lord, the fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one’s youth.” Psalm 127:3-4 (NASB)
Praying for this son to shoot straight and true. Praying this arrow is sharpened and ready to hit the target God intends for it. It is time.
