Not sure who said that, but its an interesting thought. Every night, Jacob says his bedtime prayers. They go like this "Thank you Jesus" and then he says whatever he is thankful for. The entire year that my kid brother was in Iraq, Jacob prayed for him. And he came home without any physical injuries (who knows what he experience while over there). Some nights its "thank you Jesus for my toys, and the lights and my stuff am-min-als". Child like faith in its best form. My little boy is better at thanking Jesus for whatever than even I am.
This summer, my youngest was born. We had his birth all planned out. It was going to be natural and with a midwife. My first was a c section and I really wanted to experience the "right way" to birth a baby. I never felt that I didn't give birth to my first, but surgery scared/scares me. Not a huge fan of being cut open from end to end. So we paid for this midwife, took classes, ate right, watched my weight gain. At our 20 week ultrasound baby Peanut (we choose not to find out gender) was head down and facing my back. The best position for giving birth. I jokingly told him to stay that way. In true child form, he did not listen. Around 32 weeks I started panicking because he was breech. You can't deliver a breech baby. They don't let you. I started praying "Please let him turn". At 37 weeks he did turn! And then he turned back. <--- THAT hurt!! 39 weeks comes along and we get an ultrasound, he is still breech. Not only was he facing the wrong way, but his foot was down in my cervix. He was a footling breech, one of the rarest breeches. Something like only 3% of babies are still breech at 39-40 weeks, and of that 3% only another 3% are a footling breech. Its hard to turn a footling breech.
I had to start coming to terms with the fact that I was not getting the birth I wanted. Not even close. I hadn't even thought about the possibility of another c section. Honestly, this was one of my lowest points. I really struggled with my faith. Why was I not getting the birth I thought *I* deserved? Right there is the problem. I thought God owed me something. I thought He didn't care enough to have my baby turn. When in fact, the opposite is true. At 37 weeks when baby Peanut had turned, I prayed to go into labor. I tried darn near every trick in the book. Nothing worked. I can't say that I yelled at God because honestly, I don't remember. I do know that I cried a lot. A lot! It wasn't until I was 39 weeks along, coming up on my due date, that I finally found peace. Peace with having another c section, peace with not getting the birth I wanted.
Jer 29:11 was the verse that kept coming to mind - "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future" (NIV) August 1, 2011 rolls around. Talk to my midwife that morning, and long story short, I am going to the hospital for my c section. Levi Andrew was born at 5:39pm. There were no complications, in fact, I felt GREAT!
Three hours later though I was fighting for my life. It started with an itch, scratched that and came up with a handful of blood. I still felt really good, and so just buzzed the nurse so I could get a wash cloth and maybe cleaned up a bit. Next thing I know, the room exploded in nurses. Every single nurse that was working the postpartum floor was there. They started pushing on my stomach. You can not imagine the pain I was in. I just had surgery and while some amount of pushing is necessary, this was extreme. The nurses brought out the scale and started weighing clots. They needed to know how much volume I was loosing. I started getting cold. Figured it was because the lower half of me was exposed and so I did not say anything. My mother however did notice. She said something. A nurse FLEW out of the room. That was the first sign of shock, and my first real clue that this was serious. I had three different drugs pumped or pumping into me to get the bleeding under control. The charge nurse told someone to go get the Dr. "But he is going into surgery." "I don't care, get him NOW!" Things were obviously getting serious. I am gripping the bed in shear pain. The nurses kept saying sorry. Somewhere during all of this I started praying.
Never once did I pray "Please God stop this". Instead it was "Thank you" over and over. God did have plans. Ones that I did not know about. I feel deep down that God kept my little boy breech so my babies would still have a mommy. There is really no way to know if I would have hemorrhaged with a natural birth, but in reality, there is NO reason I should have hemorrhaged with a c section. Jer 29:11 again, replayed in my head. To others it may have seemed like God was harming me. Physically I was hurting, but spiritually I was safe. I have known for a long time that I was meant to be a mommy. I feel it deep down inside.
So why after God saved me, have I been so lax about thanking him? I am thankful, that's for sure. But I am not thanking him. Not daily.