The three of us walked together. He and I, hand in hand, and she swaying in my low, swollen belly.
I walked. Sometimes stomped. Definitely moaned. And I leaned my sweaty, pinched brow on his chest as he reminded me to breathe and told me I am his hero.
The Helser songs played and I worshiped through each transition. Fully realizing this amazing, selfless, painful act of worship. Every contraction and movement and breath, worship. An ode to the Creator of Life.
The waters rushed, and she and I worked together.
They made me lay down when I didn't want to, but it was fine nonetheless.
I was stronger than I thought I was
and our fourth daughter entered this world
under no influence of drugs in my body.
It was okay that they were present in my body the three times before. It's okay if you needed them too. I grant myself grace for the times I chose induction and narcotic and epidural. I didn't know. I didn't know of the process or truth of pain or statistics or lack of bond.
That first time, there was preeclampsia. The choice made for me, for my best interest for life. But the other times? I was healthy without knowledge. This time health and knowledge paired and I chose this fullness of labor and birth. I know for many women it is reverse: knowledge without the health that allows the choice. We all must give ourselves and our choices, even lack there of, in labor and delivery - GRACE.
All is grace.
Eucharisteo. Grace, thanksgiving, joy.
|Today we celebrate your first year, our Naomi. < 3|