Words seem completely inadequate for describing certain things in life. The birth of my son is one such example. Having approached that day with the usual primal concerns for his safety, health, and well-being, I was also laden with: a) a deep desire to actually experience childbirth as it was intended (my first child came via c-section), and b) a nagging fear that I couldn’t possibly replicate the love I already felt for my daughter.
The birthing experience itself was immensely important to me as I was that rare breed of woman who was eager and ready to be pregnant and to give birth, but not so sure about the whole “being a parent” thing that comes with it. I took great care to prepare a peaceful and supportive birthing environment so that I might optimize the chances of a positive birth experience this time around.
The concerns about whether I could love him “the same” came from having experienced a love for my daughter that reached into the depths of my soul and controlled my every movement, word, and decision in life. How could I possibly love another child THAT much? I remember taking her picture to the hospital, feeling guilty for what I was “doing” to her – making her share the spotlight with another little somebody.
I remember seeing the midwife put on her “get in the trenches” gear and knew that….yeah…this was really gonna happen. The natural way. I felt that strange, out-of-body experience whereby you choose to transport excruciating pain and agony into a life force. Literally. I remember – in a weak moment - telling my mom to kill me, that I just wanted to die. That’s how badly I experienced the weight of that pain.
Noah came into this world surrounded by love and family – perhaps more family than most gals might be comfortable with in attendance. ;) My dad filmed it - Van Halen’s “Right Now” blaring in his bad ear (courtesy of my mix CD I’d prepared just for pushing babies out!). They placed him on my chest/abdomen and it happened all over again for me.
I’ve been in love before…and know that experience of hours, days, or weeks building up until that moment where you step back and realize, “I’ve fallen in love.” You don’t have that much time when it comes to your baby. It is that escalation of intense longing, emotion, and devotion all crammed into a millisecond. He appeared and love hit me like the kickback of a shotgun hits you in the shoulder and you aren’t expecting it to knock your entire body off balance. In one moment….one moment….I knew I would spend the rest of my life loving him, protecting him, providing for him, hanging on his every word, and thanking God for allowing me to assist in a miracle.
When I think about Noah’s entrance into my life, I’m often reminded of a song by Pat Green called “Wave on Wave”. My marriage was in turmoil, I was changing jobs, and my faith in myself, my God, and my life was a little rattled.
You came upon me wave on wave
You’re the reason I’m still here
Am I the one you were sent to save?
You came upon me wave on wave.
The clouds broke and the angels cried,
You ain't gotta walk alone,
That's why he put me in your way,
And you came upon me wave on wave.
You ain't gotta walk alone,
That's why he put me in your way,
And you came upon me wave on wave.
Happy Birthday sweet Noah. I love you immeasurably.
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