Pain in Childbearing

“To the woman he said,

‘I will surely multiply your pain in childbearing;

in pain you shall bring forth children.’” – Genesis 3:16a

Pain in childbearing. This was Eve’s punishment for disobeying God and eating the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Eve had barely processed her new relationship, and with that the command to “be fruitful and multiply” (Gen 1:28), and now she learns that the big proactive command she’s been given is going to bring great pain.

I’ve been mulling over and pondering this verse for several months now. What exactly is pain in childbearing? Obviously, the physical labor of delivering a child is a painful experience. No woman will argue that (and no man will dare try). Now, I’m not looking to discount any male preachers or theologians, here, who look at “pain in childbearing” and (not wrongfully) assume it is what it is; pain in the actual act of delivery. We all have our birth stories, and some can be downright miserable, but scripture even tells us that we tend to forget how bad the pain actually was, because of the joy of the baby.

“When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world.” – John 16:21

And yet this was Eve’s punishment? A few minutes, or perhaps hours (or days, if you have it really rough) of birthing pain?

I think there’s a lot more to it.

It took us four years to conceive Michael. That time of waiting, of not knowing, and of wanting was hard, especially as the months and years went on and the tests kept coming back negative.

When we learned of Michael’s kidney issues in utero, the concern, the fear, and the helplessness were sometimes paralyzing.

Though Michael’s actual delivery was not too bad (or perhaps that was the joy and adrenaline speaking!), his premature arrival was terrifying as we wondered if he would be okay, and then sat day after day in the hospital yearning to take him home.

 

Watching him grow and learn, but seeing him go through seizures and sickness and sadness and disappointment breaks this mama’s heart, though I know that he will face disappointment often in life.

We were overjoyed when we found out we were pregnant in March, though faint lines made it uncertain at first. Within a week of confirmation that we were indeed, expecting, Jesus took that sweet baby home. Heartache. Emotional heartache. And physical exhaustion, ache, and brokenness.

And now, as we celebrate our third pregnancy and look forward to this sweet baby girl’s birth in March, there is joy, but there is also heartache. After a miscarriage, it’s hard not to worry about her well-being. I find myself unable to read or listen to stories of loss without being overwhelmed by concern. We wonder what her timing will be like and every new week we praise God that she’s still well. It sounds terrible to write, and I remind myself to trust and hope, but I also know that God is sovereign and His will is perfect. And He said there would be pain in the process.

You see, the physical pain of childbearing is real. But the emotional and spiritual pain is so much more. It doesn’t stop when baby is born. It’s there in the women who so desperately want to conceive and can’t. It’s there in the women who lose a sweet baby in the womb. It’s there every day in the life of every mother who sees her child endure pain, sickness or sadness.  It’s there when your child says he doesn’t love you or chooses a path you wouldn’t have wished for him. It's there when they disobey you, perhaps giving us a small taste of how God felt when Adam and Eve disobeyed.

We don’t hear much about Eve’s birth experiences, but as a woman, I assure you that the pain she endured when Cain murdered Abel shook her to her core, and likely scarred her through her last days.

I believe every woman endures the pain of childbearing in some way or another. We “bring forth children” with great trepidation and great pain, physically and emotionally. But also great faith, dependence on God, and abundant joy. And it’s the joy – the joy of teaching our children (from our own womb or those we’ve been blessed to raise or pour into) about Jesus and doing the absolute best we can do to raise men and women of God.

There will be pain in childbearing. Every step of the way. But there will also be great joy. Cling to the joy. For the joy of the Lord is your strength.

Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord,

the fruit of the womb a reward. – Psalm 127:3

Our Christmas Miracle

Last year Luke and I didn't make New Year's resolutions. Instead, we shared our hopes for 2013. One of the biggest was that we would become parents this year. After trying to conceive for 3 1/2 years, we were first starting to feel hopeful about the possibility around Christmas last year. We prayed and prayed that the Lord would bless us with a sweet baby this year. And truly felt hopeful He would.

When we learned we were pregnant in May, we were overjoyed. We had given up on having a baby in 2013, but were by no means upset about that. After all, God's timing is perfect. On Tuesday night, Christmas Eve, I had mentioned to a friend those prayers and thoughts from last year, and even joked with Luke about how God does have a sense of humor and it was still possible that He would decide our child would be born this year. After a very easy first eight months of pregnancy, it really was just in jest.

So when my water broke as I stepped into the shower to get ready for the Christmas festivities for the Wessler side, I wasn't sure what to do/think/believe. Nine hours later, at 6:41 p.m. Christmas Day, Michael Alden was born at 17.25 inches and weighing 4 lbs. 14 oz. Wow! God is good! So good! And while his name has been picked out for many months, it couldn't be more fitting since Michael means "Gift from God." In addition to the marvelous gift he is, God's grace has been gifted to us in many other ways this week:

- Many of you know from this post that we were concerned about Michael's kidneys. One in particular was substantially larger than normal at earlier sonograms and we weren't sure what sort of follow up treatment he would need. We prayed. Many of you prayed. God answers prayers! His kidneys only showed a bit of swelling after birth and the doctors are not at all concerned!

- With Michael making his entrance 5 1/2 weeks early, we were told during labor that he would likely be going to the NICU. This is where the earliest and sickest babies go. But our little warrior is strong, and was sent to the level 2 nursery instead. Though it is hard to not have him at home, we are blessed that he is as healthy as he is. Right now he's the smallest baby in the nursery.

- Location location location. Seriously. We live about a mile or so from the hospital, so when they determined I was in labor, Luke easily went home to gather some belongings. And as we spend as much time as possible with Michael in the hospital while also trying to get some sleep, we are so blessed that very little of our time has to be spent in transit. Praise God!

- We are also just in awe of how God designed each of us. The human body is incredible. Labor is named as such for a reason, but is nonetheless a demonstration of God's sovereignty and power and gentleness and love. Designing women's bodies to nurture and develop another human being, and providing everything that human needs to thrive through breastmilk and love is just… wow. We'll spare you the details and just leave it at that.

- Our friends and family are amazing. AMAZING. Not a need has been expressed that hasn't been met, and we've received so much more support, encouragement, love, and practical help than we could have ever imagined. From the many lunches brought to the hospital (plus restaurant gift cards and coffee), to the friend who bought us toilet paper and dish soap simply because we didn't have time to get to the store, to those who have provided rides, and for the many wonderful gifts (who really knows whether or not they will need to buy preemie clothing?!?) brought to the hospital, to our home, or sent in the mail, it has been overwhelmingly wonderful. Even more than all that, we are in awe of the number of people who have prayed for, over and with us. Thank you! What a gift!

- And while a week ago, we didn't know how we would spend our New Year's Eve, we are ecstatic for the opportunity to spend it in the hospital with our precious newborn son, even if he is resting peacefully in the incubator.

Michael's birth drew us into the events of our Savior's birth so many years ago in the manger, knowing the pain and joy Mary felt, and sensing angels singing over the birth of each sweet baby born. In fact, I've been singing Mary Did You Know? every day since then.

Our God is so good. Please continue to pray for us and for Michael. We are exhausted, but plugging along. Michael is very tired too. It is common for premature boys to decide they don't really want to put forth the effort to eat around day four or five. Sometimes it's a short lag and sometimes it lasts days or weeks. Michael hit that wall on Saturday or Sunday and we've done most of his feeding by tube since then. He is given a very specific amount of fortified breastmilk every three hours. It seems so much for his little body, but is necessary for his growth. He is starting to gain weight, but we will not be able to bring him home until he can take all of his feedings by mouth for 24 hours. Otherwise, he is progressing very well, maintaining body temperature and proper vitals. After a few days of phototherapy, his billirubin (jaundice) has gone down and he is no longer in need of that treatment. He's becoming more and more alert (when he's not super sleepy) and more and more beautiful.

Will you pray with us that we will be together at home soon? Daddy's birthday is this Sunday, and we would really love to have Michael home to celebrate. Luke says he's the gift that keeps on giving. And if he's not home, you'll know where to find us - cradling him at the hospital.

As for 2014? We're a little wary to be too specific because we may end up surprised! But in addition to practical hopes like returning to Zambia and our goals related to that, we can say that for 2014 we hope to become better parents each day, growing in love for God, for each other, and for our sweet baby.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

God is good!

and I cried

When I called Mama Yoba at midnight and she told me that a well-trained birthing nurse was able to remove the placenta and that Regina was recovering, I cried.  I cried tears of joy and relief that my dear friend would be okay.  I cried tears of thanksgiving to God for hearing our prayers.  I cried tears of exhaustion.  I told Luke that I think the tears I cried were tears of all the stress and exhaustion of the last two-plus years, finally spilling over.  The dam broke, my strength was gone, and I cried.

I didn't know Regina was pregnant until about a month ago.  We hadn't been together as much and she hid it well.  When she finally told me, she was ashamed, saying it was a mistake and they hadn't been responsible.  It came as quite a surprise, as I had just recommended that another missionary call Regina to speak on purity at a girls’ workshop.  But I assured her I was there for her.  She was my friend.  And of all the Zambians I have come to know and love, Regina is probably the only real, mutual friend – almost a sister.  

Tuesday I decided to walk to Kimasala to visit Regina and Mama Yoba and some of the others out by Lusa.  I arrived to find out that Mama Yoba was in Lusaka and Regina had gone to the hospital Monday afternoon with severe cramping. When I visited Tuesday evening, she had not actually seen a doctor, but was feeling a bit better.  Wednesday afternoon I stopped in again, and she had been discharged – never seeing a doctor, having an ultrasound or anything.  Thursday morning I received a text message from her brother saying she had been sick all night.  I called and she said she wanted to rest a bit, but a couple of hours later she wanted to go to the hospital.  I picked her up, along with her cousin and the baby’s father and we went to a small clinic in town that specialized in ultrasound.  The technician said her amniotic fluid was dangerously low and we should go straight to the hospital.

Back in the overcrowded maternity ward, Regina was given one of the last available beds.  An initial exam determined she was in pre-term labor, and that was that.  There was no medication, no further analysis.  They were just going to let the labor carry on (though only seven months pregnant).  Now most women are completely alone through the labor process.  With 3-6 beds in an area, they lay there in the heat and fight through the contractions quietly and alone, until it’s time to actually give birth (which may be why many women prefer to deliver in their homes).

Visiting hours are very strict: 6-7 a.m. and 5-6 p.m.  I stood by Regina for the first three hours, holding her hand, fanning her with a notebook, praying fervently, and slowly noticing I was the only “visitor” in the area.  At 3 p.m., I went outside to ask her friend and her cousin if one of them would stay with her for a bit while I went to get a bite to eat and put gas in the car (there had been a shortage and I was running on fumes).  They told me they wouldn't be allowed - that I was only allowed because I was white.  I think the one friend made her way at least for some of the time because she was nine months pregnant and could easily pass as a patient.

I returned for 5 p.m. visiting hours, only to find out Regina had gone into the labor room.  This is a room with three beds side-by-side, in which the women lay completely naked through the birthing process.  All the women are expected to bring a sheet of plastic, gloves, and other supplies for use by the hospital.  By 5:20, Regina had given birth to a 3 pound baby girl.  The baby was taken straight to an incubator, but Regina was not in the clear yet.  A group of us waited until 7:00, but Regina had still not delivered the placenta.  One of the older caregivers for Lusa convinced the nurses to allow her to stay, but the rest of us were forced to go.  Mama Yoba was still in transit from Lusaka, and most of the day I was praying she would arrive quickly.  She called me from the bus shortly after I arrived home pleading with me to do something – to tell the nurses they needed to help Regina.  I didn't know what to do.  There was nothing I could do.

And I was so afraid I would lose my friend.  I even told Luke that if something happened to her, I didn't think I could come back to Zambia. I couldn't handle it.

After a hot shower and a few hours of tossing and turning but not sleeping, I called Mama Yoba.  Regina was fine.  Everything was going to be okay.  And I cried.

Thank you Jesus.