Gifts from Above - Lessons Macyn has taught me

Macyn Heather

Baby number five has been full of LOTS of lessons for me.  Some, I learned easily.  Some, I learned the hard way.  Some, I have yet to learn.  I am a bit strong willed at times.  Not sure why I am shocked by my children. 

I was 39 weeks and five days when I went into labor with Macyn.  I woke up in the morning with contractions but they were spotty, just like they had been days and days previous.  I had a feeling that it might be the day, but I did not want to get my hopes up.  Or my fear up.  I was delivering Macyn naturally and to say that I was anxious about it would be an understatement. 

If you know me, you probably already know that I delivered Ryen naturally and it was awful and great all at the same time.  The problem started with the misconception I had that my epidurals for my previous two births had not worked at all.  The births of Evynn & Kailyn WERE painful, but NOTHING compared to Ryen.  So prior to Ryen, we decided “Forget the drugs, let’s just do it the way God intended!”  We prepared for this by reading and practicing the Bradley Method and I walked into labor feeling VERY confident.  My husband will say that I did a great job but there was some serious panic moments topped with me trying to climb out of the bed and yelling at the doctor when he sauntered in just in time to catch Ryen before she hit the floor.  I was not proud of how it went.  I knew I would do better now that I understood the reality of what it would feel like with no medication at all.  But I was scared.  Our lives were crazier this time around and we did not have near enough time to practice the way we had with Ryen. 

As the date grew closer, I tried to find times to lay and practice relaxing but could never get to the point where I felt like I had it under control.  During the rounds of “warm up” labor, I was left feeling like I was going to fall short again.  But God is faithful and He tells us to seek Him in all things so I started praying.  I started praying for a short delivery.  I started praying in groanings that only the Holy Spirit could understand. 

So as that day progressed and I started to realize that she was going to make her big entrance, my God answered my prayers in ways I could not have understood prior to it all.  I worked through the early labor in the couch in our living room, watching March Madness and trying to get a few things done between contractions.  Ryen was all over me and when (at about 5:30) she put her fingers in my mouth while I was having a rather large contraction, I decided it was time to head to the hospital.  They were still not coming with any regularity (three three minutes apart and then 15 minutes with none) but I decided I rather go to the hospital and be sent home than to have more fingers in my mouth at moment.  

Keith and I left the crazies with my mother and headed for the hospital.  I was still filled with anxiousness and trying to relax through the contractions.  I called my dearest friends, Jennifer and Dena, and told them if they wanted to be there – it was time.  I had not more doubts.  She was coming and I knew that I was completely unprepared. 

We got into a room quickly and the contractions kicked up a notch as I got in a gown and got on the bed.  I struggled to find a position that I felt work at all.  My anxiety level was climbing.  I knew the worse was yet to come and I was not in a place to be able to handle it well.   My incredible husband was helping me through each contraction and listening to me as I told him what did and did not help.   But still, I did not see how I was going to make it through the delivery any better than I had with Ryen.  Keith went to put on the Christian music I had wanted to listen to but I quickly told him that I did not want to hear it.   

About this time, they decided to put in an IV.  I have horrible veins that are hard to find, smallish and tend to roll.  As the nurses stuck the needle into my arm and continued to move it around, trying to find a vein, the anxiety got worse.  They pulled it out and stuck me again.  There was talk that maybe Dr. Wyatt would not care about the IV since it was a natural delivery.  Then they moved to my right arm.  It was at this moment, this moment of pure panic  - they were going to continue to stick, me, I was going to continue to labor with out any ability to relax and ride the waves of contractions that my gracious, loving God answered my prayers.

Upon rolling onto my back so that they could reach my right arm, I hit the position that just felt right.  Had they found the vein in my left arm, I might not have rolled over because the book suggested laying on that side as the best position – it was the way I always practiced.  But here I was, on my back and suddenly things seemed better.  Dr. Wyatt arrived (on his day off I might add) and confirmed that I did not need the IV so the poking stopped.  My anxiety started to drop.  My breathing began to even out. 

Then I heard the little voice.

Focus on Me.

I asked Keith to turn the music on and I suddenly slipped into some marvelous, God induced zone where I knew, I KNEW in my heart I would be able to deliver this baby in a way that would not be disappointing.  I lay, with my eyes closed, breathing through the ever-increasing contractions.  I could hear the strong, loving voice of Keith leading me through each wave.  I could feel the calming presence of Dr. Wyatt.  I knew, not far from my side, were my two dearest friends, ready to welcome my precious girl into the world.

But inside, where my eyes were closed, it was just me and Him.  He reminded me gently, through each contraction to keep my eyes focused on Him.  That each one would come to an end.  That each one, no matter how painful, had a purpose and they were bringing me closer to the end result.  He reminded me to live with the end in mind, this was all just temporary. 

Do not get me wrong, it hurt.  It hurt A LOT.  But I was not in the middle of it somehow.  I knew that if I kept my eyes on Him, if I trusted His promises that He would lead me through. 

Almost as quickly as it started, it was over and she was here!  We had left for the hospital around 5:30pm and she was delivered at 7:41pm.  It seems so short when I think about it in retrospect, because it was.  It was an answer to that prayer. 

As I lay in my hospital bed that night, unable to sleep from the adrenaline running through my body, I was in awe of how God had worked through the whole thing.  He took my anxious, fearful prayers and showed me that no matter what is going on, no matter how painful or overwhelming, if I look ONLY at Him – if I can keep my eyes focused solely upon Him, there is nothing I cannot get through.  But that is the trick, I have to only look at Him.  I cannot get side tracked by what people say is the “best” way to do something, or thrown off course by those painful pricks that come in life.  In some ways, doing this through labor was a lot easier than doing this in life.  I was able to keep my eyes closed and focused on Him through the delivery.  But here, now, in the real world, it is not very practical to run around with my eyes closed! 

And the best memory of that night?  Hearing the song “Jesus Paid It All” ringing through my mind as my precious daughter Macyn made her way into the world! 

There are not enough words to express the love I have for this precious new girl!  She is amazing and I will always be grateful for all that God has taught me through her pregnancy and delivery and I am excited to see how He will grow and stretch me through her life!!! 

38 weeks...

So here I am, 38 weeks!  Wow, this little one will be here any day now.  I have generally delivered about three days early and usually on a Friday (which I hate, seems like I waste the weekend that Keith would have been home anyways!) so that would put her coming on on Friday, march 18th.  Not a bad day, as Isaiah Wilson's birthday is that day...  the 19th would be fun too since that is cousin Anna's birthday.... Of course, the reality is I have NO CONTROL over this!  And I HATE that. 

The last 38 weeks have been one big lesson in giving up control, recognizing some deep seeded issues with pride and the need to seek our Father for EVERYTHING.  I am a slow learner and I fear the lessons are not fully absorbed...

This has been a trying pregnancy.  I will not say "hard" because there are people out there who are having truly hard pregnancies - bed rest, little support from a husband, no husband, the reality that their little one has little or no chance of survival...  those are issues that I am so grateful that I have not had to deal with.

With that being said though, the last 38 weeks have been long.  Probably pretty long for my husband and my sweet friends too.  But what I have learned is that God is faithful and His is good.

I never dealt with more than one icky issue at a time...  I was not throwing up WHILE I had horrible ligament pain, the ligament pain was gone when I got the horrible respiratory infection...... one issue would pass and another would come... and for that I am so grateful!

Every time I felt like I could not do what needed to be done, there was someone there to help me.  People brought us dinners, babysat for me, watched my children for appointment or a date with Keith...  there were just always people there to help!

When I was feeling overwhelmed with guilt that I had not been writing out my prayers for this sweet child as I had with all the others, God gently reminded me that we do not need to be legalistic about things and I started praying for her each time I felt her move instead.

I could go on and on...  But perhaps the biggest lesson has been about my pride.  I am a horribly prideful.  It is a huge issue.  Not only do I want others to think I have it all together but I can hardly function if I really do not have it all together.  I want my house to be clean and neat.  I want to make good food.  I want to look good all the time.  I want my children to behave well.  I want that Martha Stewart life...  and not just looking like that, I want it to BE that. It is not about putting on a false front for others to believe I was doing everything right, it is a deep seeded desire to do everything right.  I certainly do not want to be fake.  I want to have it all together and when I do not I struggle to cope.

As my housekeeping got worse and worse (especially in the last month) my life got worse and worse.  It was an assault on my sanity.  But there was nothing I could do about it.  I was struggling through an upper respiratory infection that was the worst I have ever had and Keith was out of town, A LOT.   I was using all my energy (and there was not much) to keep the children alive and fed.  I kept my blinds closed and cried, A LOT. 

I am tough, I thought I had it together.  How could one little baby and an illness throw me so far off my game?  And the worse it got, the harder it was for me to be the mother or the loving wife God called me to be.  And it all hit a peak one evening when Keith had a neighborhood association meeting.  We were trying to get the little ones to bed before he had to leave for the meeting - or so I thought.  Then I heard him downstairs vacuuming and I realized the meeting was at our house.  People, my neighbors were going to be in our house in about five minutes.  The floors were dirty, the tables covered in dust.  The playroom was a mess and the kitchen barely cleaned up from dinner.  I WAS MORTIFIED.  How could I have forgotten?  And as I tried to apologize to my neighbors for the mess, it struck my what a prideful person I am...  Keeping the blinds closed so others could not see my mess did not change the fact that the mess was there.  While it did hide the reality from others that I was slowly falling to pieces because I could not do it all, it did not change the reality that I was indeed falling to pieces.  The perfection I so desired was an impossible dream and everyone around me was suffering because I just could not grasp that. 

And the further I fell from perfection in one area, the further I fell in others.  The house was a disaster, so I was frustrated.  My patience waned and I took it out on the children.  My frustration with them increased because I saw them as part of the problem.  If they would just be neater, the house would not be falling to pieces and then I would feel more in control,  if they would just obey then I would not get so cranky, if they would just....  if they would just....  And the irony in this was all it did was draw me further from that "I got it all together mom" that I was trying to be.  I would yell or be short with them and then beat myself up mentally for hours after...  causing me to be even grumpier...  a viscous cycle...


But God is gentle and kind.  He loves me, even those prideful parts!  He used my incredible husband to speak truth into my heart.  He brought me to a place where I could see all that I was striving for was impossible.  He brought me to the foot of the cross, where all that "stuff" had already been paid for.

So 38 weeks.  I am feeling a lot better.  I am still congested.  I think if I had not had the last four weeks of horrible congestion this might feel bad but by comparison, this feels great.  I no longer just "want to get this over with".  Although I hate "not knowing" when Macyn will get here, I am content to wait for her and enjoy this time before she comes.

I do wish I had faced the last 37 weeks a little more valiantly, less whining, more seeking God.  But I also know that long before God planted this little baby in my womb, He knew that this would be a tough time for me.  He knew exactly how each day would go and yet He still chose to give me this gift...  So despite my desperate attempts for control, I will lean on Him and let Him lead the way!