A Labor of Love

I like to tackle life with a plan, rationalizing that somehow I will always find myself prepared for anything I could have imagined would happen outside of the plan.  God, however, likes to remind me of my dependence on Him (for which I am very grateful) by rarely allowing life to go according to my plan.

The plan for Thursday night was for Jon to rent a U-Haul to pick up the new bunkbeds in Beverly Hills that we had purchased for the girls' bedroom.  Although that mission was accomplished, the plan to be driven by my husband to the hospital when I went into labor was not as successful.  My husband was an hour away, loading furniture onto a truck when Julia Grace communicated she was ready to make her grand entrance into our lives.  So it was Jon's father that drove me to the hospital, my husband already awaiting upon our arrival.

Having delivered both Colette and Mary without the aid of an epidural or pain medication, the plan was to manage labor with the same method of focusing on what my body was accomplishing with the pain, rather than the pain itself.  Mentally I was not in the same mind-frame that I had been in for the deliveries of my first two.  In the passing weeks I had found myself continually uneasy with the idea of labor.  The mechanism experts claim women have to forget the pain of labor was not working for me and the task ahead had been wearing on my mental state for weeks.  Coupled with a baby that was positioned with a nose pressing on my spine, I found myself exhausted by the pain only 4 hours into labor.  It was 11pm.  Calculating that I still had several hours of labor ahead of me and then a night of caring for a newborn, I informed the nurse that I would be needing an epidural.

I knew that I was not entirely comfortable with the idea of an epidural and that I would have some emotions of "failure" to deal with after the delivery.  My husband, knowing me as well as he does, questioned if I was certain.  I told him yes, because though it was the first time he was hearing it, I had considered for several weeks now that this was the route this labor might take.  Being that it was my first time to even consider an aid for pain management, I was ignorant of how long administering an epidural would actually take.  As the nurse took time outlining the details- the time it would take for the bag of fluids to drip through the IV, the actual procedure of the epidural, how long it would take for it to take effect- I was panicked with mixed emotions.  Thinking that relief was soon in sight, and then watching the minutes tick by in the midst of contractions, I realized that God was communicating to me that He had a plan in store for me.  I prayed that if I was not meant to have an epidural, that I would receive a very apparent sign.  Meanwhile, I raised my hands in praise with the pain of each contraction, whispering the words of "Your Love, Oh Lord" by Third Day, "I will lift my voice to worship you, my King.  I will find my strength in the shadow of your wings."  I imagined my hand actually reaching up into Heaven and pulling down the strength that God provides for those that rely on Him.

It was a very cautious and sympathetic voice that informed me I would not be able to get an epidural as I was nearly ready to deliver.  I wonder if she was surprised by my relief, but I knew that God had answered my prayer and carried me through the pain so that I could deliver the baby according to my plan.  I was awash with what a gracious God we have, who cared enough for my small concern when He manages a world with far greater needs.

Moments later I held in my arms that miracle of life that is my third daughter, Julia Grace.  Her middle name will forever remind me that it is by the grace of God that He provides for our every need and cares for our desires too.