When I am weak, God is my Strength

   Being pregnant is such a blessing of an experience. But trust me, those last weeks of the whole nine months are absolutely miserable! Not only are you excited and anxious to meet your little bundle of joy, but your body is a blimp, there's pain and uncomfortable feelings in places you never knew feeling existed, and everyone around you is reminding you of how much time you have left and how much you're looking like an expecting mother. Well, that's how it was for me, anyway.

 

 

    When I told my doctor about my first born's birthing experience, she immediately started asking many questions:

 

"How much did he weigh?"
10 lbs 3 oz
"Were there any complications?"
Not that I was aware of.
"Did you have gestational diabetes?"
No, I didn't.
"Was it a vaginal delivery?"
Yes, completely.
"Did you tear?"
I had a fourth degree episiotomy.

 

 

  She'd always ask these questions at every visit. Every time, she'd act surprised that there weren't any complications. Apparently, with my body size, big babies are rare. Especially without having gestational diabetes and no complications.

 

 

  To make sure there wouldn't be any avoidable complications during the second birth, my doctor decided to keep up with the baby's measurements via ultrasound.

 

 

At 37 weeks, our second baby boy measured to be about nine pounds! That's huge! My doctor kept reminding me about the complications that could happen if I was to try to vaginally give birth to a big baby. She told me that the first baby was proof that I'm capable of doing it, she just wanted to make sure that I was aware.

 

 

The biggest thing she stressed was shoulder dystocia. That is when the baby's shoulders get stuck behind the mom's pelvic bones and in order to get the baby out, they'd have to break the baby's collar bone. It was the doctor's biggest concern and it became our biggest fear. You should've seen my husband's face when the doctor began to explain it to us. She recommended an induction after 39 weeks.

 

 

That's the thing about pregnancies and birthing experiences... you can't predict what's going to happen. No matter how much schooling you've had, how many books you've read, or how many kids you've had. Each experience is different and requires personalized plans of what ifs and just in cases. Also, no matter how much control you think you have, things don't always turn out the way you want it.

 

 

So we decided to go ahead and schedule the induction. I prayed about it and I was so set on having him vaginally that I didn't want to wait too long and have him grow too big. We scheduled the induction to be at 39 weeks on June 25, 2015.

 

 

Those next two weeks were soooo loooonnng! I tried pretty much everything to get labor started on its own. I was doing squats, walking, dancing, and eating lots of pineapple... I was praying every chance I got.

We had our bags packed and our labor plan. We made arrangements for our first born. Our parents numbers were on speed dial. And even our parents already had their bags packed! Everything was ready, except for our second baby boy.

 

 

June 24, 2015 came along. We were scheduled to be admitted in the hospital that night to start the induction at 12 am. My husband went to work like any other day. Our toddler and I did our daily routine at home. Everything went as it normally did.

 

 

I made sure I went ahead and wrote my Bible verse on my hand with a sharpie. It was the same one I wrote with my first.

 

Isaiah 41:10, " So do not fear, for I am with you; do not  be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous hand. "

 

God was going to be my strength.

 

 

That evening when my husband got home, we loaded up our car, dropped our anxious toddler and dog off with my husband's parents, and headed to the hospital.

 

 

With a stop at Chick-fil-a on the way, it felt like a date. Except on this date, when we go back home, we'd have our second baby boy! We both got large meals and I got a big chunky chocolate chip cookie. I wasn't going to be able to eat after 12 am, so I was going to eat as much as I could. Until 11:59.

 

 

We slowly made our way to the hospital, enjoying our alone time. It was so peaceful. So calming. So reassuring.

 

My husband handed me something. It was a bracelet that we had gotten for him a few weeks before at Books-a-million. The bracelet had Philippians 4:13 on it.

 

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

 

 

I made sure I put it on the opposite hand of the hand I wrote my Bible verse on.

 

 

God was going to be my strength.

 

 

We arrived at the hospital and found where we were supposed to be. I'm pretty sure we looked like we were moving in to the hospital with as much stuff as we were carrying. The place we were supposed to check in at had a camera right outside the doors. There was a button under the camera for me to push and tell them who I was, otherwise I couldn't get in. Now that's some good security for a birthing wing in a hospital!

 

 

They let us in and took us to the room we'd be staying in. I was shocked when I saw the room. I had to ask the nurse, Hannah, if she was sure that she gave us the right room. It was amazing! It looked like a five star hotel room. It didn't even feel like a hospital room. Not yet, anyways. There were floor to ceiling windows on the far wall with a beautiful view, couch and a few chairs in front of the windows, bed was against the wall to the left, tv on the wall to the right (which didn't work until the second day we were there), and the bathroom was huge! It was all very clean and organized. I had to ask the nurse again about the room and this time I asked if we were going to be in this room the whole time. She looked at me like I was nuts. I guess my last experience with a hospital was a little different.

 

 

As soon as I got all of the paperwork filled out and my hospital gown on, the nurse started my IV and strapped the baby's heart monitor to me. She started looking at the monitor and the lines and said that I was already having good contractions on my own. She didn't know how I was so calm. I didn't feel any pain, just a tightening in my middle area that I thought were just Braxton Hicks. The nurse told me that with as strong as they were, that they were the real ones. That made me sooo hopeful.. Maybe things would go exactly how I thought they would and smoothly. Maybe I would be able to have another vaginal birth and it won't turn into a Csection, like the doctor said it might. 

 

I gave the nurse our birth plan (that was written on notebook paper) and she scanned over it. I  made sure I wrote on there that I was mentally prepared for a Csection, if things came to that. I also wrote out how I wanted things to go if I did need a Csection.

 

I also wrote on there for them to not be alarmed if I start singing church hymns during labor pains. That's how I coped with the pain during my last birthing experience and I got some delusional looks. Like I was losing it or something, because the pain was so much. I didn't want the nurses to think that about me this time.  I sang the pain away with "How Great Thou Art", "Victory in Jesus", and "Love Lifted Me". I sang "Victory in Jesus" as they put my first born on my chest. I didn't know what I would belt out this second time.

 

My husband and I got settled in our room and began to rest. Which is hard to do in a hospital, but this hospital felt like a hotel... so it was a little easier. At this point, the nurse said she'd be back in around 12am to start the low Pitocin drip. That was at least three hours away.

 

I feel like my husband was more nervous than I was and I was the one that had to feel the pain.

 

My mom and dad showed up around 11:30pm. It felt good to see them. They stayed the rest of the night with us in the hospital. Daddy took the recliner and my husband took the couch. I had the bed, of course. Momma took a computer chair and rolled it right next to me. She didn't sleep a wink, I think. Daddy and my husband went right to sleep.

 

The nurse came in around 12:01am and started the low Pitocin drip. She told me to get as much rest as I could, because things were going to start speeding up. She said that things were already starting by themselves and that they were only going to get faster.

 

There was no way I was going to go to sleep though. I wasn't nervous or anxious or anything. I just had so much adrenaline pumping me up that I was ready. Call me a masochist or whatever, but I wanted to feel the pain. I said to myself, "Bring it on." I knew that God was my strength and that no matter how painful it got, He was going to bring me through it.

 

My mom and I stayed up talking and watching the monitor. My contractions were getting closer and closer. Finally, around 4am, I fell asleep. But not for long!

 

I woke up to a doctor (not my doctor, might I add) crawling on top of me with a long hook-like tool, that I remembered oh so well from last time, saying, "Gooooodmorning! It's time to break your water!" What a wake up call, right?

 

After I looked over at my nurse to make sure this woman on top of me was doing what she was supposed to be doing, I moved so she could. The doctor put the tool where it was supposed to go and "click". My water was broken. It felt like she popped a water balloon in my stomach that was full of warm thick water. That definitely brought back memories of my first birth experience. I knew that right then, that's when the REAL pain was about to begin.

 

I remembered right. The real pain began to start.

 

I met my new nurse, Kaleigh. She was a young girl, couldn't have been any older than me. She looked as if she had never worked this part of the hospital a day in her life. The sweetest person ever! The look on her face when my contractions picked up was priceless! Not once did she offer me pain medication though (I wrote on my birth plan that I didn't want them to offer it to me unless I ask for it). Instead, she offered her assistance with getting me to change positions to see if that helped with the pain. She suggested getting off the bed and onto a birthing ball. She helped my husband and parents know what to do to help me with the pain. She showed them how to massage my back and where to massage. She knew exactly what to do in every situation, now that I look back. I felt bad for thinking that she may have been as inexperienced as she looked. I am so thankful for her and all the nurses that took care of us. But her, especially. You'll see why soon.

 

 

As the pain kept getting more intense, more people began to show up to help. Daddy made his exit when my contractions started getting bigger. And my mother-in-law and grannie came in. My father-in-law, first born, brother, cousin, and pastor were out in the waiting room during the last few hours.

 

Everyone in the room did their part in helping me with the pain. I was so thankful for them. I didn't sing like I thought I would. I think it was because I had so many people there helping me, that I didn't need to sing.

 

I finally got to the point where I was in my own little world. I was focused on God and the strength that He was giving me. I was focused on my body and what I needed to do to get that baby OUT.

 

That's when I felt more pressure... and the urge to push!

 

I told the nurse that I was ready to push. I was ready! She sent for my doctor and I started pushing. On my first push, it was like Ole Faithful! My stream of pee went straight to the nurse's face! She was soaked with my pee and you know what she said? "That's okay, that's okay! Don't worry about that! Just keep going!" I looked at my husband and my mom, they were holding back their laughs. I was so embarrassed. I kept apologizing! And guess what went away as soon as the stream was done? ... my urge to push.

 

My doctor checked me anyway. I was completely dilated, but my cervix wasn't all the way thinned out. I had to go through more contractions. I was getting so tired. The contractions just kept getting more painful. I was starting to lose my focus.

 

I kept reminding the people around me of how much I love them and I kept thanking them. I'm pretty sure I told the nurse that I loved her. I kept looking into my husbands eyes to make sure that he was okay. I was on the brink of giving up. Then I looked down at my hand and my arm bracelet. God was my Strength. There was no giving up! So I gritted my teeth and focused in again on what I needed to do.

 

Between contractions, I was all good. Tired, but good compared to during. During contractions, I was a screaming banshee. There wasn't any singing during this labor!

 

I don't know how many contractions later or how much time had passed, but I felt the urge to push again!

 

I made sure I asked the nurse if I was good to start pushing this time. She told me to go ahead and listen to my body. I started pushing and then the nurse told me that she needed to check and make sure of how far along I was.

 

I was miserable. I was ready to have him out and I was feeling pressure, pain beyond anything I've ever felt before, and I was so very tired.

 

She told me to stop pushing, because there was still apart of my cervix over the baby's head and the baby wasn't down far enough. So I sat up in the bed, after she stepped back from checking. Tears of disappointment and wanting to give up streaming down my face. I began to rock back and forth, grabbing on to whatever or whoever was closest when contractions hit. Laying back didn't seem like it was helping with bringing the baby down to the right position. I needed to get gravity in on this and sitting up seemed logical. I wasn't getting out of the bed again, though. I didn't have the energy for that.

 

More nurses started pouring into the room, getting everything set up for the doctor. They knew I was getting close. My doctor came in and brought another doctor in with her (still to this day, I'm not sure why that was). She checked me and the baby was still not where he needed to be.

 

Another nurse, God Bless Her, suggested that I get on all fours and try doing labor that way. So I did. Oh my goodness... why didn't I try that from the beginning? I could feel the baby shifting down further and a few moments later, the urge to push was bigger than any of the other times. I remember screaming, "He's coming! He's coming!!" At the top of my lungs!!

 

So I rolled over and had the nurse check me. I was desperate. I started praying out loud, "Please, Lord, please." I was crying. She gave me the most sympathetic look in the world, almost crying. There was still a part of my cervix over the baby's head. I couldn't start pushing.

 

I couldn't believe it. I was done. I couldn't handle anymore. I was beyond what I could handle already. I shook my head really hard, not accepting my defeat just yet. "Please, Lord, help me!" I said.

Just then the nurse took another look inside and she had a look of amazement on her face. I looked at her with a questioning look and she smiled. So big!

 

My cervix had moved away from his head and I was ready to start pushing. I asked to make sure, "Can I start pushing now??" She smiled really big and said real calm, "Mmhmm."

 

I said, "Thank you, God." Really, truthfully, honestly thanking Him.

God was my strength.

 

I quickly moved into the position I remember working the first time I was pushing a baby out. The nurses put up the leg rests for me to put my legs on, for more support. I was in the zone.

 

 

God was my strength.

 

Isaiah 41:10

 

 

Philippians 4:13

 

 

I heard my husband encouraging me and telling me that he loved me. My mom did the same. The doctors and nurses reassured me that I could do this. I looked at my Bible verses and remembered how strong my God was and how He was going to get me through these last few moments of excruciating pain.

 

I began to push.

 

 

This time, there wasn't anyone telling me to stop or that it wasn't time to. They were encouraging me to keep going and doing just what I was doing. I was so pumped and encouraged that there was no way I was going to give up.

 

The doctor was in the place where she needed to be and she guided me through where exactly I needed to push. I inhaled really big and exhaled with my first push. Holding it for at least ten seconds each push. Then exhaling big. And inhaling, pushing again on the next exhale. Three good pushes during each contraction. Then there was that  little break in between contractions for rest. Three seconds, maybe? Who was counting by then? Not me, that's for sure.

 

The ring of fire came. I don't remember feeling it with the first experience. I have a feeling my doctor (different than the one I had this second time) got a little impatient the first time and cut me before I had the chance to feel the burning sensation of my baby's head pausing where it was between pushes. I knew I needed to do one more big push! Plus, everyone around me was telling me so. So I did.

 

Then there was that relief. He was OUT. He was here.

My baby boy was here. 11:37am on June 25, 2015.

 

He was so beautiful when they laid him on my chest. All 10 lbs. and 5 oz. of him. My heart was full of joy. I thanked God with every ounce of my being.

How could I not, with what God brought me through?

 

That's when I began to sing:

   

     "O Lord, my God, when I in awesome wonder
       Consider all the worlds Thy Hands have made;
      I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder,
     Thy power throughout the universe displayed

     Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
     How great Thou art, how great Thou art.
     Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
     How great Thou art, how great Thou art!"

Everything about my son was beautiful at that moment. His cries, all of the nasty pasty white gook on him, his purple toes.

I watched my husband cut his still humming umbilical cord through the tears in my eyes (this time they were happy tears), the only part that was keeping him attached to me anymore. 

The doctor helped me give birth to the placenta then she sewed me up as I kept singing and making sure our baby was warm. I ended up with a second degree episiotomy and nothing more. I kept thanking the doctor and the nurses as they each kept telling me how well I did and how proud of me they were. They didn't even know me and they were proud of me.

I'll have to admit, the praises felt good to receive. But I had to tell everyone who praised me that they were praising the wrong person. The wrong being. I told them that it was all God. Because as I've kept saying, "GOD WAS MY STRENGTH!"

I was so weak and tired and ready to just give up. I was ready to let my body take over my heart and mind. I was ready to just lay back and have my worst fear of having a Csection take place. But God pulled me through. He showed me, yet again, how strong I really can be with Him. WITH HIM.

It's funny how He reminds us sometimes of how good He really is. He also can remind us how weak we really are without Him. I don't ever want to be without Him, because I know how strong I am with Him. I hope you and everyone I care about realizes how weak you really are without God.

When I have things in my life that make me tired or discourage me to the point of giving up, I try so hard to think of my experience in the hospital. Almost giving up and just letting God take control... then making it through. If I would've went into that hospital with just my own strength, I'm certain that I probably wouldn't have come out alive. Who knows? I just know that I made it, our baby made it and we're both healthy.

He's such a happy baby.

We're such a happy family. Chaotic, but happy.

I am so thankful to the Lord and Him BEING my strength. When I was weak, God was my strength.

Isaiah 41:10

Philippians 4:13