Birth and humility

I'm joining up with Jen at Conversion Diary for 7 Posts in 7 Days Blogging Challenge. 

We shall see what deep, entertaining and insightful things I come up with....

Do cute pictures of my kids playing outside count?!

I am more than half way there to my due date. I am so looking forward to meeting this youngest member of our family.

I find myself thinking dreamily about the sweet little sleepers tucked away in our outbuilding for Baby Lemon, about finally getting back to cloth diapering (skeptics: cloth diapers is easy-peasy, especially when your baby is exclusively breastfed!), wondering if we will need to invest in some pink clothing pronto, how the boys will react when they finally meet their new sibling.

Lots of romantic, excited, dreamy, hopeful thoughts flit through my mind.

But there is one thing which is causing me fear.

It's the actual birth of our baby.

I wasn't really afraid of labour and delivery with our first. I watched all the natural birth videos and read all the natural birth books that I could get my hands on, I "trusted my body" as homebirth advocates tell you to do... and I ended up having a c-section. It was actually quite devastating.

My second birth was a much different experience. I had a VBAC, with no drugs or interventions of any sort. It was very healing and wonderful, but I take no credit for it whatsoever; I didn't trust my body one bit, and yet God decided to allow me a VBAC anyway.

Since I started meeting with my midwife -- by a small miracle, my name moved up the waiting list and now I actually have a midwife! -- I have learned about some distressing practices at the hospital where this baby will be born. I am leery about the entire process; I want to hurry up and be done with it all and just have my baby to snuggle.

But I have fourteen weeks left, plenty of time to stew over what I know I have very little control over.

Yet amidst my fears of it all, I find myself taking comfort in imagining Our Lady in her pregnancy and birth. I can't help but think her "ideal" birth would have taken place anywhere but a stable surrounded by animals and their excrement. Not only that, but after she gave birth to the Christ Child, how did she go about getting something to eat? She either would have had to send St. Joseph away, a lonely feeling for the new mother who wants to sit and enjoy her Child with her husband, or prepare it herself. Given that, my hospital experience, while not "ideal" sounds pretty cosy. I mean, they bring you food on a tray while you recline on a bed.

My current "crosses", when I think about it, are so trivial -- being intimidated by the OBs at my hospital, or experiencing a general feeling of anxiety towards childbirth, despite the fact that the delivery is completely covered by the government's insurance and the statistical outcomes are favoured heavily towards the most important things -- healthy baby, healthy mom.

Instead of dwelling on these fears, I should offer up the feeling of fear for women facing much heavier crosses in their life right now.

And... keep dreaming about cute little cloth diapers and unpacking boxes of sleepers.