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Bittersweet
Healing
Exodus 15:22-26
So Moses brought Israel from the Red sea,
and they went out into the wilderness of Shur; and they went three days in the
wilderness, and found no water.
And when they came to Marah, they could not
drink of the waters of Marah, for they were bitter:
therefore the name of it was called Marah.
And the people murmured against Moses,
saying, What shall we drink?
And he cried unto the Lord; and the Lord
shewed him a tree, which when he had cast into the waters, the waters were made
sweet; there he made for them a statute and an ordinance, and there he proved
them,
And said, If thou wilt diligently hearken to
the voice of the Lord thy God, and wilt do that which is right in his sight, and
wilt give ear to his commandments, and keep all his statutes, I will put none of
these diseases upon thee, which I have brought upon the Egyptians; for I am the
Lord that healeth thee. I knew her name was to be Marah before I knew anything else about her. We had wanted to know the sex of the baby before it was born but at each of the two ultrasounds it could not be determined. The name was revealed to me during the third trimester of my pregnancy. I was doing a Bible study and there it was. It struck me in such a way that I could not be persuaded that it should be any other. I wanted a normal birthing this time. I couldn't bare the thought of another abdominal delivery. The depression and loss I had felt after the birth of my first child laid in my being at the very depths. I had a beautiful healthy baby girl and no complications from the delivery but I ached as if I had been robbed of a precious gift. My body took months to adjust to the fact that it no longer had the opportunity to birth…the baby had been removed and my body left to accept the fact. It was a hormonal nightmare. I spent much time in study and prayer when I discovered my next great expectation. I wanted to ensure the birth experience of my dreams. I learned that midwives were advocates of natural birthing. I went on the quest to find one after having a disheartening conversation with my O.B. about VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean). I found one that took me at twenty weeks pregnant. My husband reluctantly agreed to make the switch. I was immediately comfortable with my midwife. I came to trust her implicitly. We became good friends. We even shared the same birthday. I did everything that she instructed as the time grew near. I had wanted to try birthing at home but my husband was terrified at the idea. I have to admit that I was a bit uncertain about my commitment to it in the end. I had not learned that I could trust my body to give birth. I had not considered that every woman in my family tree had birthed normally. I had not looked inside to discover the residue from a lost birth. I had a midwife this time and she would give me the birth I wanted. At two weeks past my due date I was still very pregnant and starting to get anxious about the situation. I hadn't wanted to be induced but it seemed we had reached the end of the time for a choice to say no to the idea. My midwife subtly encouraged us to come in for the induction. She said there was a new medication that she could use and I would not have to be hooked up to an I.V. right away. I was apprehensive but we decided that we would go ahead with it. I never bothered to research this new miracle induction. If she was comfortable in using it than I had nothing to worry about. I knew nothing about the cascading effect of intervention that is proven when you start with one, another will usually follow, and then another, and another…. I was excited about the baby and getting the birth I wanted even if I had to have a little help in the beginning. I pushed the uneasiness I had to the back of my mind. We began at six o'clock A.M. on a Wednesday morning. By six o'clock Thursday morning I was having contractions so hard and so close together that my midwife was nervous. She had already given me narcotics to "take the edge off" and hopefully slow my contractions down a bit. It inadvertently had caused the baby's heart rate to drop rapidly and as I drifted into a place I cannot remember she encouraged me to relax and breath deep. The baby stabilized and I had reached nearly nine cm in dilation and was feeling the urge to push. After an examination she told me I could not go forward or I may swell and inhibit things a great deal. I resisted for nearly an hour with no change and she insisted upon an epidural to relax my body. I tried to talk her out of it but was unsuccessful. I know now that an epidural given when labor has turned from the normal course may bring it back on track. I took my epidural, now the third intervention I had resigned to. I slept for maybe thirty minutes and by eight o'clock I was given "permission" to start pushing my baby out. My epidural was turned off and I was left alone to push however I felt like for an hour. I pushed for three more hours in every position in which the nurse, midwife and my husband could support me. I didn't have control of my body. I felt drowsy and incoherent. Everything moved in slow motion. The baby's head was at a +2 station but didn't want to descend further. By the end of four hours the midwife called her back up O.B. He came in and prepared to attempt vacuum extraction. As the vacuum lost suction once and he attached it the second time and directed me to push an overwhelming dread came over me and I recoiled with a shout to stop. A vaginal bypass seemed the only option to the medical staff and I was prepped for surgery. My epidural was refreshed and I was taken to the O.R. My legs were strapped together on the operating table even though the baby was down in my pelvis and I was still having powerful pushing urges. The surgery began and I felt the incision. The epidural had only managed to numb the right side of my body. My husband was escorted out of the room and I was put under general anesthesia and remember nothing until waking in the recovery room. My husband told me later that he climbed up on the scrub sink to watch the surgery through the window above the swinging double doors to the O.R. The baby was delivered only after a nurse freed her head from being wedged sideways in my pelvis from below. The baby was lifeless, blue and limp. She was resuscitated and taken to the nursery. I learned from my midwife later that my uterus had ruptured on the operating table once the supporting layers of muscle had been cut. The tear extended into my cervix and caused a great deal of pain in recovering from the birth. Marah had been birthed bitterly. Marah was nearly inconsolable for the first two weeks of her life. She cried constantly and couldn't bear to leave the breast. I cried nearly as much. I was thankful that we were both alive and relatively healthy. My mother told me that the Lord had her on her face praying fervently for me the morning I was in distress. She had been at home with my toddler and basically uninformed of the labor progress. I am amazed at the Lord's mercy to summon intercession for us in our need. The baby grew healthy and strong. She eventually calmed down and was so very sweet. My body healed and I enjoyed my children but was deeply sad over my births. I cannot describe the sorrow. It was if I had lost something extremely dear to me. It didn't make sense. I felt like my life and my baby had been spared a nearly life threatening situation but I could not let go of the loss for a normal birth. Why did this happen to me? I obsessed about my loss. I was driving everyone in my life crazy with my agony. I decided to be constructive and started researching. I was interested in anything I could get my hands on about childbirth. I was even entertaining the idea of entering the healthcare profession. My father tried to help me by putting me in contact with the wife of a colleague who was finishing up education to become a nurse practitioner. She started me on a path…a push in the direction that would hold healing. I began studying to become a Doula, labor support person. At one training session I learned of a workshop with a Certified Nurse Midwife from New Mexico that was using Art to teach childbirth. The workshop fell on a date that didn't seem convenient for me. My husband would not be able to accompany me to watch the girls while I was taking the workshop. Marah was still nursing and I was not inclined to leave her for the weekend. I dismissed the idea of going. However, it seemed to fester and I could not forget it altogether. I had been diligently praying for healing from my birth. It seemed that even though I was learning so much about birth and had the opportunity to help others with their births I was still agonizing over my own. So what looked like a closed door opened when my sister came home for the week and said she would love to go with me and keep the girls during the workshop. We made the trip and at the last minute. I registered and attended a Birthing From Within workshop. The workshop was packed full of exciting educating ideas and support techniques for pain coping but what impacted me so deeply was the experience of using art to approach birthing. We were taught as if we were the pregnant women that we wished to support/teach and given the opportunity to do the lessons. One particular experience changed my life and I knew that my prayer for healing had been answered. The instruction was to create an artistic expression of the energy of "Opening." We were provided with watercolor and paper. I didn't have an idea to depict "opening." I just let my brush find a color and decorate the paper as it wanted. When we were told the time was up and to hold up our pictures for all to see I sat still biting my lip trying to hold back tears. I could hardly look at the image I had painted myself let alone hold it up for others to see. All in a matter of ten minutes I saw the antidote to all my anger and sorrow. I had not taken responsibility for my own birthing. I expected my midwife to give me this wonderful birth. I did not own my own birthing. I had not taken ownership of it. At that moment all the blame and anger I felt toward her for trying some unpredictable induction medication and managing my birth with drugs and medical intervention melted away. No one is to blame for the unfolding of life's experiences. We must take the responsibility for living and experiencing life and embracing the highs and lows with privilege that we are alive and have the opportunity the experience it.
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