“My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.
For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for he who is mighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his name. (Luke 1:46-49)
I’d like to tell my story. It's important to me to write it down. It’s not a horror story but part of it includes one of the most horrific times in my life. It’s not really a birth story either though it ends with my youngest daughter being born. It's a rescue story.
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12 weeks away.
10 weeks away.
8 weeks away.
As September 15th (my due date) hung over me, looming, I was still trying my level best at just pretending like the birth wasn’t going to happen. Only a few weeks out I was no longer able to pretend that birth wasn't imminent. I would more and more frequently wake up in a sweat and an all-out panic attack. I couldn’t breathe. I was powerless to stop the tears from rolling down my face or stop my body from shaking. Utterly powerless. I couldn’t think straight through the wracking sobs. My thoughts would race around like a caged wild animal, practically frothing at the mouth in my mind. Saying I was afraid or scared would be putting it very very mildly. What I was experiencing, over and over and over again, were flashbacks to Harriet’s birth. My fear was almost a physical wall, slamming into me. Again. And again. I'd recall the feeling of terror I felt in my gut, like a punch to the gut, as I looked down and saw my blood pouring out of me. Too much blood. How my midwife jumped into action and called for assistance and other midwives appeared at my side out of seemingly no-where. How they each grabbed an arm as I held tiny Harriet’s naked body to me as they helped carry me to the bed. I slipped on my own blood on the way over. I’ll never forget that. I’d recall vividly how I felt tired lying there on that bed, bleeding bleeding and feeling so helpless. I remember how I whispered ‘help me’ to no one in particular, because I *knew* this bleeding wasn’t good and how all I could do was lie there.
The midwives were quick. They eventually managed to control the bleeding and I got whisked away in an ambulance to the hospital where I got a blood transfusion. In all the chaos, none of the medical staff seemed too bothered. Need some more blood? No problem. We’ll fix you right up. Feel weak and like a truck ran over you? Yeah, that's to be expected. And there you have it.
So I was okay. It was okay. Everything was okay. Everyone was okay. Nobody died. It was okay. So I tucked it away and moved on with my life.
But it wasn't okay. Time moved on and I moved on. But time didn't heal the hurts and the fears, it hid them.
To be honest, I’m fantastic at ignoring things I don’t want to mentally deal with. So for most of the pregnancy I did a fantastic job at not thinking about the birth and labor that were ahead of me. But eventually it caught up with me. I got to the point where I could no longer pretend it wasn’t happening, because well, I was only 8 weeks away from my due date.
PTSD. Post traumatic stress disorder they said. Your brain is trying to protect your body from a real threat from a past trauma.
Now, I’m not really a worrier. I’m not a terribly anxious person. “Don’t worry until it’s worry time.” That’s what my dad always says. So I dunno, when I was plunged into this permanent anxious state of mind I felt wildly unequipped. Feeble. Absolutely powerless to NOT feel anxious and I so desperately wanted to not feel anxious but I couldn't. It was exhausting. I'd burst into tears at the drop of a hat. I felt permanently stressed out. My dumb heart wouldn't slow down. It was bad. I could feel it having a detrimental effect on my body and being. Dragging me down and destroying me. But what I wanted, more than anything, was to be calm. Rational about it. I wanted to go into labor and birth with a clear mind. I wanted peace but it just wasn't happening despite ALL my efforts. I couldn't make it stop. I just wanted peace.
(ew I have a stress headache just typing this out. It's still very stressy.)
“I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid."
John 14:27
John 14:27
I believe that. I believe that God promises us peace and MEANS it but what I know in my heart wasn't making it to my head. And I started praying, "Lord, PLEASE get me out of this. PLEASE help me. PLEASE. Please. Make it stop. I believe you promised me peace. Help my unbelief. Give me a
sense of peace that doesn't make sense for my situation. Help. Help my unbelief."
“‘If you can’?” said Jesus. “Everything is possible for one who believes.”
Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”
Mark 9:23-24
Now if you think it was a switch that was just turned off you'd be wrong. And that was okay. My PTSD did not disappear. My anxiousness did not evaporate. And that was okay. What I realized was that I did not have to fix myself and then bring myself to God. I was a hot mess in need of some serious help. Guys, this is what I learned. It was not the clarity of my faith, the level of my faith... it is entirely about the object of my faith. I'm wimpy but it's not about me it's about who I put my faith in. It was going to be okay even if it was not going to be okay. Even if I did not feel as brave as I wanted God was still in control.
And it turns out I'm not the only one to ever be faced with terrifying or impossible situations. There are a LOT of verses about fear. I know because I started writing down God's promises in His word like it was my job. Verses I KNOW but just weren't clicking. Just weren't doing it for me. I wrote them out anyway. Daily. Clinging on to them for dear life. Clinging on to the promises like it was keeping me alive.
When my anxious thoughts multiply within me, Your consolations delight my soul.
Psalm 94:19
"Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.
Matthew 11:28
"Now may the Lord of peace Himself continually grant you peace in every circumstance. The Lord be with you all!"
2 Thessalonians 3:16
Every circumstance.
The biggie verse that I clung to was Isaiah 41:10
‘Do not fear, for I am with you;
Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you, surely I will help you,
Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.’
He tells us not to fear or be anxious and then goes one step further and provides FIVE reasons why not. Five promises.
1) I am with you
2) I am your God
3) I will strengthen you
4) I will help you
5) I will uphold you
He didn't just call us out of fear. He brings the big guns. He brings some serious promises to the table. With you, I am your God, strengthen you, help you, uphold you. The God of the universe promises help and so much more. I can rest in that.
“Because he has loved Me, therefore I will deliver him;
I will set him securely on high, because he has known My name.
He will call upon Me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble;
I will rescue him and honor him.
With a long life I will satisfy him
And let him see My salvation.”
Psalm 91:14-16
"Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."
Philippians 4:6-7
“Cease striving and know that I am God"
Psalm 46:10
"God is our refuge and strength,
A very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change
And though the mountains slip into the heart of the sea;"
Psalm 46:1-2
"The Lord is my light and my salvation;
Whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the defense of my life;
Whom shall I dread?"
Psalm 27:1
I thought I was going to die. And if the hemorrhaging didn't kill me the panic attacks would. But He heard me. He reminded me of His promises to help and strengthen and just BE with me. I wasn't alone. And I believed Him, even if I didn't keep my cool 100% of the time. I believed He meant what He said.
And guess what? He DID help! He sent a doctor my way who noticed I was Not Handling things very well and sent me to perinatal mental health. I got set up with an awesome team who heard my story and my tears (lots. so many) and told me that I wasn't silly for feeling that way. They helped me talk through some of my fears and set me up with a plan at the hospital to ensure that if I did have a massive bleed again that we would be prepared. Listen, none of that took away my anxiousness but it was comforting (in theory) to know that everything that could be done was being done. In the meantime, I continued to preach these promises to myself and waiting for D-Day.
13 days away from my due date and my show came. I saw the blood and immediately panicked. Wait nope, it's cool. God is in control. It's gonna be fine. HELP THIS IS SO NOT COOL. I DO NOT WANT TO HAVE THIS BABY. No it's gonna be fine. etc. It was a major battle trying to stay calm in labor. I flip flopped back and forth the whole time. But I felt brave. Braver than I ever had been because I was so scared. More scared than I ever have been.
I labored at home unproductively for hours and hours. I could tell that not much was happening but I was really uneasy. I was terrified of a repeat and I was terrified that I'd miss my window for pain relief. I was worried that the pangs of labor would make me panic in labor and trigger panic attacks. It didn't take me laboring long to realize that it was triggering flashbacks and it was not the way to go for labor.
We went into the hospital at 1AM and I was a disappointing 2cm. I wasn't handling the panic attacks very well though and they let me stay. I'm forever grateful for the kindness and understanding that all the hospital staff showed me. The contractions kept coming but weren't steady. They'd come hot and heavy then go away for awhile. It was really disheartening. I was at the stage where I just wanted to have the baby and be done with it. I wanted it all behind me. They offered me gas to help ease me through. It REALLY helped relax me and I went to 5cms pretty quickly and they properly admitted me through.
Finally the contractions were close together and STRONG. And so was the fear. Each contraction reminded me of what happened last time. Some I could breathe through well and some I couldn't. I was fearful for what transition would be like so I asked for the anesthesiologist. It felt like cheating, to be honest, but I went for the epidural and it was ahhhh-maaazing. I couldn't feel anything. My left leg felt like a pork roast. It was totally bizarre but my body kept on doing its thang and I could sit back and relax. Well, sort of. I couldn't feel anything but I continued to flip flop between peace and panic.
The nurse warned me that I might feel a bit... restless or uneasy when transition came, even though I wouldn't be able to feel it. And sure enough. It hit. Right away I felt uneasy. I felt like I needed to get up. Walk away. I was SO uncomfortable. BAH! It's hard to explain. I felt all the familiar feelings of "I can't do this!" "This is impossible!" "I need to be DONE!" "I am OVER THIS" without any of the intensity of the pain. Talk about WEIRD!
And 20 minutes later I was pushing.
And I was weeping. And scared. And am I going to bleed all over again? Am I going to be okay? Is the baby okay?
5 minutes later she was born.
One small but gusty cry and that was it. 12 days early and covered from head to toe in milky, sticky vernix. She was placed on my chest and put her tiny hands up by her face, the way they always were in the womb. She loves her hands by her face. She was so slippery. She smelled so good. And I cried. And cried. And cried.
It was over.
Not an ounce of blood too much.
It was over and Edna Elisabeth was born just after 10:00AM. 5lbs 14oz.
He was faithful.
And guess what? He DID help! He sent a doctor my way who noticed I was Not Handling things very well and sent me to perinatal mental health. I got set up with an awesome team who heard my story and my tears (lots. so many) and told me that I wasn't silly for feeling that way. They helped me talk through some of my fears and set me up with a plan at the hospital to ensure that if I did have a massive bleed again that we would be prepared. Listen, none of that took away my anxiousness but it was comforting (in theory) to know that everything that could be done was being done. In the meantime, I continued to preach these promises to myself and waiting for D-Day.
13 days away from my due date and my show came. I saw the blood and immediately panicked. Wait nope, it's cool. God is in control. It's gonna be fine. HELP THIS IS SO NOT COOL. I DO NOT WANT TO HAVE THIS BABY. No it's gonna be fine. etc. It was a major battle trying to stay calm in labor. I flip flopped back and forth the whole time. But I felt brave. Braver than I ever had been because I was so scared. More scared than I ever have been.
I labored at home unproductively for hours and hours. I could tell that not much was happening but I was really uneasy. I was terrified of a repeat and I was terrified that I'd miss my window for pain relief. I was worried that the pangs of labor would make me panic in labor and trigger panic attacks. It didn't take me laboring long to realize that it was triggering flashbacks and it was not the way to go for labor.
We went into the hospital at 1AM and I was a disappointing 2cm. I wasn't handling the panic attacks very well though and they let me stay. I'm forever grateful for the kindness and understanding that all the hospital staff showed me. The contractions kept coming but weren't steady. They'd come hot and heavy then go away for awhile. It was really disheartening. I was at the stage where I just wanted to have the baby and be done with it. I wanted it all behind me. They offered me gas to help ease me through. It REALLY helped relax me and I went to 5cms pretty quickly and they properly admitted me through.
Finally the contractions were close together and STRONG. And so was the fear. Each contraction reminded me of what happened last time. Some I could breathe through well and some I couldn't. I was fearful for what transition would be like so I asked for the anesthesiologist. It felt like cheating, to be honest, but I went for the epidural and it was ahhhh-maaazing. I couldn't feel anything. My left leg felt like a pork roast. It was totally bizarre but my body kept on doing its thang and I could sit back and relax. Well, sort of. I couldn't feel anything but I continued to flip flop between peace and panic.
The nurse warned me that I might feel a bit... restless or uneasy when transition came, even though I wouldn't be able to feel it. And sure enough. It hit. Right away I felt uneasy. I felt like I needed to get up. Walk away. I was SO uncomfortable. BAH! It's hard to explain. I felt all the familiar feelings of "I can't do this!" "This is impossible!" "I need to be DONE!" "I am OVER THIS" without any of the intensity of the pain. Talk about WEIRD!
And 20 minutes later I was pushing.
And I was weeping. And scared. And am I going to bleed all over again? Am I going to be okay? Is the baby okay?
5 minutes later she was born.
One small but gusty cry and that was it. 12 days early and covered from head to toe in milky, sticky vernix. She was placed on my chest and put her tiny hands up by her face, the way they always were in the womb. She loves her hands by her face. She was so slippery. She smelled so good. And I cried. And cried. And cried.
It was over.
Not an ounce of blood too much.
It was over and Edna Elisabeth was born just after 10:00AM. 5lbs 14oz.
He was faithful.
"I sought the Lord, and He answered me,
And delivered me from all my fears.
They looked to Him and were radiant,
And their faces will never be ashamed.
This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him
And saved him out of all his troubles.
The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him,
And rescues them.
O taste and see that the Lord is good;
How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!"
Psalm 34:4-8
