Thursday 18 July 2013

Birth

“Yet you brought me out of the womb; you made me trust in you, even at my mother’s breast. From birth I was cast on you; from my mother’s womb you have been my God.” – Psalm 22 verses 9 & 10.

Birth. Life. Death.

Oh how uncertain yet awe-inspiring the cycle. It is something which we all go through. Each and every one of us was conceived, knitted together in our mother’s womb. Fearfully and wonderfully made. And born.

Let me tell you, I had so many preconceived ideas about how Eli’s birth would play off.

I always had a picture in my mind of the “perfect birth”. I would go into labour in the middle of the night, and gently wake Adam up with the words, “Love, my waters have broken. I think it’s time to go to the hospital.” We would calmly gather the hospital bags, which I carefully packed weeks in advance. We would drive to the hospital and upon arrival, they would probably wheel me into the delivery room as I huffed and puffed…and pushed a baby out! Ha, yeah right.

How things played out in reality, is a different story altogether.

An OB/GYN with ulterior motives (Easter weekend…she wanted to go on holiday…Maybe I should have seen the signs, but in my defence, we paid her for her professional opinion and guidance). A “recommended” induction a few days before I was due anyway (“Doctor knows best,” I thought. Plus, she said my baby wasn't thriving anymore, as my placenta was rapidly deteriorating). A failed induction. An emergency Caesarean. A failed spinal block. General anaesthetic and a frantic husband in the hallway of a hospital. A first breath and a resounding cry. Eli.

I won’t bore you with all the details, but let’s just say that Eli’s birth was less than perfect. But he was and is. God had Eli in the palm of His hand since the moment He was born, and he was and is a healthy, clever, busy and amazing little boy. Ask anyone who knows him. What more could we really ask for?

And here I sit once again. Two years and three months down the line, with the impending birth of our daughter, Tori, on the horizon. According to my (new) OB/GYN’s calculations, she is due in 38 days.

I won’t lie…I’m grappling with my thoughts – how is this time going to turn out? I’m scared. I’m nervous. I’m excited to meet her. Surely this time is going to be different?

This time I’m not expecting perfect, because there is no such a thing. Just better. Quieter. Calmer. Different.

Tori, I can’t wait to meet you.

My girl, there are no guarantees in life. I can’t guarantee you the perfect birth, but I can guarantee you that God is in control and that He has already got your name written on the palm of His hand. I promise to relax in these last few weeks, and to allow you the necessary time to develop as long as you need to. Take your time, Princess, because we have an eternity together to look forward to.

We will see you soon.

Mommy, Daddy and Eli xxx

PS: Eli can't wait to play with you. And probably bully you. But we know you're already feisty and strong.

Tuesday 2 July 2013

Let's Leave the Titles

Yes, I know we are different…
but we are more alike than you think.
Let me explain:

I’m a mom, and so are you.
I’m a wife, and so are you.
I’m a friend, and so are you.

I want the best for my family.
And I know you do too.

Because I am a mom, I learn new things every day.
Because I am a wife, I grow every day.
Because I am a friend, I am vulnerable every day.

Can you relate?

Because I am an imperfect mom, I spend time on my knees every day.
Because I am an imperfect wife, I need guidance every day.
Because I am an imperfect friend, I drink a cup of grace every day (no sugar, please).

Maybe you know what I’m talking about.

Yes, I know we are different…
but we are actually the same.
Let me explain:

Do we not breathe the same air?
Do we not touch the same textures?
Do we not get moved by the same symphonies?
Do we not climb the same mountains?
Do we not fear, dream, laugh, cry, scream and wish?

Yes, I think so, too.

When I look in the mirror, I see only who I am, and not who I could be.
I can only be who I am today, and maybe tomorrow I will be different.
But you need to love me for who I am today
because tomorrow is not a guarantee.

When you look in the mirror, you see only who you are, and not who you could be.
You can only be who you are today, and maybe tomorrow you will be different.
But I need to love you for who you are today
because tomorrow is not a guarantee.

And when we are face to face with each other,
try to see the good in me first, as I am painfully aware of the bad already.
Try to talk to me, and not at me.
Try to understand me, even though you might not agree with me.
Try to hear what I’m saying, and not what you think I’m saying.

And try to love me as if I am one of your own.




M xxx