A supernatural tale

Warning: Somewhat Christian post ahead so beware those who are atheistic, agnostic, non- Christian and possibly all the cynics out there. Hmm, that probably means all of 3 people will read this post. But nevertheless.

With each birth, we are made so aware that we are so rarely in control of the entire situation. The list of others who are in control is endless. The doctors, the midwives, sometimes bosses even but the one who seems ultimately in control is God and there's no shaking Him off His track once He's decided what it's going to be, for the larger good. And sometimes, that larger good is so clouded by us struggling to wrest control.

Muffin's birth was a true testament to this.

It started with his conception. We had so much problems having the twins that the thought never crossed our mind that we'd be able to conceive again if we didn't seek help. When the second line appeared 10 months ago, we were stunned beyond words. And that God had a sense of humour. We also knew God heals hence Muffin's middle name Josiah which truly means "God heals".

The minute I found out we were pregnant, I knew that I wanted a natural delivery. I knew that it was going to be a journey fraught with obstacles that we had to clear before we'd be allowed to even consider the VBAC. And truly it was. First, there was the placenta that was on the low side putting the first question mark in the way of the VBAC. But even that, there was some sort of divine intervention. The placenta was low but on the back of the uterine wall. That made it move out of the way slower than had it been on the front. But had it been on the front, there was a greater danger of the placenta attaching itself onto the previous c-section scar.

There were lots of prayers and supplications and evidently God deigned fit to hear and grant. The day my doctor told me that and we were in the clear for a VBAC, we went out to celebrate. Of course, he set criteria.

1. I had to go into labour naturally.
2. The baby couldn't be too big.
3. The baby couldn't be in a breech position.
4. The scar must not even twitch.

We thought the above criteria weren't going to be an issue at all, especially the going into labour naturally part.

And that, as most would know was what was bugging us most the last few weeks as the due date grew closer with no signs of Muffin really wanting to get out.

But underneath all the stress, angst and being angry with God, I also knew that I really wasn't in control of the situation and that Muffin would arrive and that timing would be perfect in the larger scheme of things. It might not be according to the Lunar New Year calendar or my doctor going on leave or whatever, but he would arrive it was right for him.

The week leading up to the 40-week countdown, Jordan came down with a mysterious high fever that wouldn't break. The day she came down with it, I found myself praying that I didn't go into labour that night. I couldn't bear to leave her at that point even if it was to deliver Muffin. But those were also the most angst-filled, tear-filled days. The doctor was becoming more concerned that Muffin wasn't ready by any approximation to leave, we couldn't induce him to do so and there was the question of the doctor being away the following week, cutting short the time we had to wait. I started yelling at the God and wanted to throw bricks into the sky. I was angry for no other reason than the fact that it meant I had to birth Muffin in a way I wasn't intending to. On the one hand, I wanted to be around for Jordan as she fought her virus but on the other hand, I couldn't wrap my head around the idea that I was going to have to give up my idea of a VBAC. Of course, my better angels being Packrat and others who'd been praying for us felt that it just wasn't the right time and rather than feel that God was messing with me (which I truly felt He was), He was giving me what I needed. Peace of mind that Jordan was better and that she wasn't missing me or needing me while I was away.

I felt extremely chastened when we found out on Friday morning that I was indeed in labour and well on the way, without even knowing it because it felt at that point that everything had fallen into place perfectly. It was the weekend so Packrat needn't spend his paternity leave with me in hospital, the twins could be at the grandparents' and we didn't have to worry about school arrangements and Jordan was finally well. And far be it for God to say "see, I told you I had it in control", I felt a great sense of peace (as much as woman in labour can be) descend upon me.

To the more cynical out there, all this can also very easily be explained away as just coincidences since the baby was going to come out at some point and 39 weeks 6 days is as good a time as any other. But I choose to see the divine intervention in it.

Where else I saw that was a little bit more spooky but in a good way. My sister-in-law had told me that during a morning of prayer, she had seen that Muffin's birth would be smooth and fast. Of course, part of me believed it while the other part of me poo-poohed it as something she was making up to make me feel better. But at the same time, Packrat and I had also decided that we were not only going to try to deliver Muffin naturally, we wanted to do it drug-free. Of course, that's been all the rage with hypnobirthing and doulas. We couldn't afford a doula and hypnobirthing was out for us because well, at the risk of sounding flippant, we didn't want to piss God off. We did, however, need to find out more about how we could do it drug free and we did end up speaking to someone who'd trained as a doula but wasn't working as one here. That in itself was a blessing because she was Christian too and knew where we were coming from, plus we hit it off immediately.

Armed with all that she taught us, we wanted to make it work and we prayed about it. But at the same time, I was terrified that at some point I was going to cave because of the pain. But all through labour, no matter how painful it was and uncomfortable it was, I just breathed it away as I commanded Packrat to sing hymns to me while I writhed and rattled the rails of the bed or banged on the walls. Every time he did, I would cry but I would be crying from relief as well as the sense that the pain was being uplifted and someone else was taking it on for me. And what was eventually truly amazing was the speed of the delivery. Even though Muffin wasn't my first pregnancy, he was my first vaginal delivery and that often meant things were slightly slower. But because I had chosen not to be on any sort of drugs and I had walked out most of my contractions and labour, things progressed quickly. I am also convinced that God had a great part to play in how fast things progressed. To be honest, if my labour was long-drawn and the contractions and the pushing lasted for hours, I think I might have eventually caved to the allure of a drug-induced haze. But that was something I didn't have to contend with and for that, I am grateful.

So, all in, it has been a supernatural experience. One where I had, once again, to learn to cede control because the Big Guy we believe is omnipotent and does indeed know better than us mere mortals. It is a lesson I keep having to learn because of my own disposition and because I am impatient. I am forever, trying to teach Evan to be patient and to wait and it is still a lesson I am having to humble myself to over and over again. And once again, it has also been proven that I haven't been failed. I know and I hesitated writing this post because there are a lot of people out there that seem to have been forgotten by God and have I have no answers as to why it seems that way and I don't want to make it seem like I'm gloating that I have been blessed. But a close friend who was one of my spiritual cheerleaders reminded me that I had to write about this because Muffin needed to know how God was intrinsically involved in his life from the get go.

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