horrifically beautiful

**disclaimer: while this post isn’t going to be terribly graphic visually, it is my perspective of the birth of our son, so it may be graphic emotionally.**

 

so, my wife pushed a baby out the other day.  i know that millions of women do it every year, but when its your wife, your child, it rocks your world.

it all started at 4:30 in the afternoon on friday (well, it actually started nine months ago, but i’m not going to get that graphic).  i was in the bedroom and emily shouted from the bathroom, “i either just pee’d myself or my water broke.” tears instantly welled in my eyes.  a little back story is needed to understand the full emotion of that moment.

on december 23rd i received a phone call from our hr director telling me that due to higher rates and new terms, we would be switching insurance companies on january 1st.  while the change was good overall, our old insurance paid 100% after the deductible and our new insurance only paid 80%. additionally, since it was the friday before Christmas we couldn’t get a hold of our doctor or hospital to verify that they were covered in the new plan.  the change was not only making our holidays a little crazy and stressful, but if he was born after the new year it was going to cost us thousands of dollars more.

at this point, we began to pray that he would come before 2012.  we sent out emails to our supporters, asked friends and family to pray, and began praying ourselves.  we know our God is good, so we fully trusted that even if he came after the new year that God would provide.  nevertheless, we prayed.

they say that after the water breaks the baby should be out in 24-hours in order to protect from infection.

so, when emily shouted out about her water breaking and i realized that twenty-four hours was still 2011, i cried.

i cried at God’s faithfulness to hear our prayers.  i cried because our awaited son was coming.  i cried because i was going to be a father.

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months earlier emily had decided to try to give birth without epidural.  i had preferred this from the beginning, but it was easy for me to have this preference as i wasn’t the one giving birth!  emily was praying about the decision, scared to do it without, and asked God for a specific answer soon.  hours later our friend called and said that her doula (natural birth coach) called and had an opening for a birth class that Saturday and that she was going to give it to us for free.  emily had her answer.

so, with natural birth, we labored at home for first few hours.  emily sat in the bath tub most of the time and let the waves of pain get soothed by the warm water.  my role was to just sit with her, pour water over her belly, and love her.  it was difficult, but not horrific.

the contractions increased in frequency and intensity, so at four in the morning we decided it was time to go to the hospital.  the movies are a little dramatic about the start of labor.  they show us the water breaking and the husband freaking out as they pack the bags and rush to the hospital.  we didn’t leave when the water broke, but hours later, my experience was just like a movie.  rushing around making sure we had everything, packing emily and her mom in the back seat of our borrowed grand marquis, emily on her hands and knees contracting with her mom pushing on her hips to relieve some of the pain, and me driving like a maniac down the i-17 to the hospital.

the period of time between our arrival at the hospital at 5 am until his birth at 1:39 pm was the most horrific time of my life.  

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i love zombie movies.  i love graphic horror.  i can see people’s heads blown off, bones broken, brains eaten and not flinch.  but i can barely handle real life.  i think of the time i saw a girl blow out her knee in a girls basketball game screaming in pain or the time a student broke his arm at youth group.  they stand out vividly.  i hate seeing pain in real life.  i think its my empathy (or just a weak stomach for other’s pain), but i can’t take it.

seeing my wife in that much pain for that long was horrible.  it made me sick.  there were times where i would cry as she groaned in pain and looked into my eyes for relief.  there were times i just had to walk away.  times that, as much as i wanted to be by her side, i just couldn’t.  times where i bent my head and asked Jesus to end it…to just bring this boy out of her.

but it didn’t end and hour after hour she labored.  she groaned.  she waited.  her face contorted in agony.  

and we waited.

the hardest thing was hearing our doula say that it should be over soon at 9 am, but not having that joyous release when i looked at the clock at 10:30 am.  or at 11:15.  or noon.  i really just wanted it to be over.

then the pushing came.  the video we watched during our class showed the woman pushing for a couple of minutes and the baby flying out…seriously, the video was insane…and gross (i almost petitioned em to go the  epidural route after we saw that video)…i digress.  

emily pushed and pushed.  different positions. different strategies.  but it was slow.

S

L

O

W

 

every small movement “down there” was a victory.  later we heard from em’s dad that he heard us all yelling with delight one time and thought the baby was here, but really there was just a little movement.

but then after more than an hour of pushing we saw the head…just the first little glimpse…covered with curly dark hair, and then it retreated again…for another half hour she pushed and then it happened…

the horror ended and the beauty began.

titus benjamin hughes arrived.  

he cried.  he breathed. he stretched.  he squirmed.  he lived.

still connected to his mother by the umbilical cord, he was placed upon his mother’s breast and he was home.  tears filled my eyes, his grandmother’s.  joy was seen on the faces of all in the room as life began.

oh, the beauty.  but you know, in the end even the horror was beautiful.