Important Disclaimer

Since I currently have several employers/supervisors/churches/etc., please know that none of the words on my blog represent them or their beliefs. This blog is my own creation.

It also does not represent my children's perspective, nor my mother's; they think I am funny, but misguided.
(Quick update: only my mother thinks I'm funny now.)

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Untitled Ramblings

A bunch of years ago, I gave birth to two children. I've written before about how profoundly that experience altered my relationship with my body--the way in which I more fully engage my body as a living, breathing part of my identity and physicality as a result of moving through the experience of childbirth. 

The first child was startling, fast, impatient to get on with the world. He hasn't changed much. I fumbled my way through that first birth, unsure of what to expect, and there were surprises at every turn. He was, and is, beautiful and delightful. When he was born and resting on my chest, I burst into song and sang until they took him from me to measure and weigh and wash.

The second child, though, was a more deliberate process (and he is, indeed, a more deliberate child).
Still so many surprises with that little one, but I knew more of what to expect in terms of the pain of childbirth and the fears that go with that.

That second child taught me about embracing pain, surrendering, submitting to it. Both births taught me that excruciating pain can be lived through, but the second birth is when I realized I might willingly choose to enter pain for the beauty it promises. 

That second child I labored in water. I moved about the room. I cursed out the doctor for letting his cell phone ring. That second child I had a midwife who stayed all the way through. She moved with me, unafraid of my pain. 

It's been on my mind lately, that moment I decided to trust and surrender to all that would happen with the second child's birth. There is a moment like that in my decisions to allow people to touch me, the decisions to allow people to know me. 

There is a moment like that in the decision to trust God. It is hovering, that moment, waiting for me to step out into it again. How does one trust God who cannot be known with the dearest desires of the heart?


  1. Wow. I love this. Trust a childbirth metaphor to move a midwife!

  2. Wow. I love this. Trust a childbirth metaphor to move a midwife!


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