Perhaps birth is an allegory. A picture of our journey into motherhood wrapped into the preparation, labor, and delivery of our babies into this world.
You see, that is how it is for me. Each time. A beautiful portal where Jesus feels close and the veil between earth and heaven thin.
The start of Flora’s story also begins with the end of my Mother’s story. Her physical story on earth came to a close last fall, while I carried this babe in my womb. Only a few weeks since we found out we were expecting. Yet, my Mother’s story and legacy lives on. And always will. For generations to come.
I remember booking a same day flight to Alabama. Quickly picking the last of my zinnia blooms in my garden to take to my Mom who had just been admitted unexpectedly into the hospital the previous day. One of my favorite childhood memories is my Mom gardening. Specifically, one year when she planted an enormous amount of zinnias. I remember walking out into our garden in awe of all the blooms.
Three days after I arrived in Alabama, my Mom breathed her last on earth. We sang many songs over her during her final hours. One of which, was the hymn, “Joyful Joyful We Adore Thee.” I pictured the hosts of heaven singing this also as they welcomed my Mom, free of cancer at last, into the celestial city.
“Joyful, joyful, we adore You,
God of glory, Lord of love;
Hearts unfold like flow’rs before You,
Op’ning to the sun above.
Melt the clouds of sin and sadness;
Drive the dark of doubt away;
Giver of immortal gladness,
Fill us with the light of day!”
Perhaps I will write more on the depths of sorrow and grief I experienced to follow the passing of my Mom. And, to be honest, still do experience. That is for another story.
This is the story of our 4th born, Flora Joy, and her birth into our family.
On a practical note, I prepared similarly for this birth as I did with our second. I was faithful to practice Spinning Babies 3x a week, listened to my own version of Hypnobirthing, prepared my breath work, walked 15miles weekly (non-stop continuous walking miles. Not necessarily steps. It averages out to 2-3 mile walks a day), and lifted heavy in the gym while still promoting lots of primal movements and mobility.
As the months of being pregnant continued on, I found myself dreading labor. I finally took the time to work through these feelings, along with my grief, by meeting with a Christian Biblical Counselor/Therapist. Through my discussions with her I realized, labor is metaphor of grief. In the same way that you have to surrender to each contraction, let it consume you, feel it, amplify it, and breath through it, we also do with grief. I began to see my bodily response to grief like a contraction. It’s my intelligently designed body taking control and working hard to move through a needed experience. With contractions you either fight it or surrender to it. With grief you can distract yourself/suppress feelings or allow yourself to feel the grief at the very core of who you are.
Maybe pregnancy is giving us the mental tools we need far beyond pregnancy, but for motherhood. During those final weeks of pregnancy, when being pregnant truly is so very challenging — most of us want to hurry up and get the baby out. Rightfully so in some way! Holding our baby in our arms and the joy of those moments is right around the corner. Yet, we wait. Choosing to allow ourself to fully embrace, love, and live in these moments of the final weeks of pregnancy. So, when I reached the final weeks of my pregnancy I allowed myself to sit in those weeks and ask the Lord, “what do you have to teach me?” The theme began to unfold, “this is hard, and stay with it.” Don’t rush through something hard. Don’t distract yourself. Don’t suppress the hard away. Stay with it.
It is during these final weeks of nesting that I began to have a strong pull towards our garden. I wanted to be in the garden, stare at the flowers, feel the dirt in my hands and between my toes for hours each day. Play in it with my children. It’s where I knew I wanted to give birth.
My own Mom, the grief of losing her too soon in life, my pregnancy, the garden, the flowers, and my labor are all interwoven into this tapestry of a story I don’t even feel equipped to put into words.
I spent time with my children watercoloring in the garden almost daily. We painted many flowers of the seasons and I began to write birth affirmations on the cards to string up. However, the affirmations I was drawn to was not the typical birth affirmations you may find on the internet. I found the affirmations through poetry about gardens. A dear friend had gifted me a beautiful book full of poetry verses in the theme of nature through the year.
This is one of my very favorite affirmations. One day, after reading Pilgrims Progress to the children, I was resting in my bedroom. Piper took the initiative all on her own to copy this statement from the book and gift it to me for my birth. How precious!!
Finally, I knew labor was around the corner. I was excited. The most excited I have been before birth. Not because I was “over being pregnant,” but rather, excited to see what was in store for me during this labor and so excited to hold our sweet bundle of joy. A precious gift in a season of sorrow.
Because my births typically go fast, the plan had been to prepare for a fast birth. I got out of bed and Rich and I called my midwife to come over around 1:30 AM. When she arrived I actually thought it was a false started. After I laid down for a bit they began to pick up again. The pattern of the intensity of contractions going up and down was a new experience for me. I had a few very intense contractions as I labored inside in the living room and my body began to shake. I was starting to feel the fear and dread of knowing what was around the corner.
I sang the Lauren Daigle lyrics, “there isn’t any fear here, there isn’t any fear in love” over and over. I walked outside and entered into my “zone” and found so much peace. I walked the garden back and forth as I heard the dawn chorus began to sing. The darkest part of the night was over and light was beginning to shine. In my spirit, I felt the same.
By 4:45am I was very much laboring in a beautiful and enjoyable way when my water broke. I jumped into the birth tub expecting baby to be born in 5 minutes or so. As, this has been my experience with my last two births.
Instead, my contractions continued to fizzle and amplify going in and out and giving me lots of breaks in between. I began to have doubt that I was progressing. I’ve never done any cervical checks in labor so I don’t have data on where I’m at in that regards. During those doubts I remembered, “trust my body.” With each contraction I allowed myself to surrender and trust the process. I remember my midwives and I singing hymns through out this time. The atmosphere was calm, peaceful, and worshipful and in moments, teary.
With two midwives, a dear friend present, and my husband all surrounding me, I felt so much love. I realized, similar to grief you have to be the one to go through your own labor. And yet, you don’t have to do it alone. You can be surrounded by love and worship and beauty while walking through a valley. While being in hard places.
The gift of labor also teaches me so much about who I am as a wife and mother. During labor I am at my best feminine self. I am soft, open, vulnerable, the closest to my Savior and my husband. I whisper quick prayers in a breath of gratitude and strength. I need my husband’s strong and grounding presence with me. There are no walls built up between us. Just vulnerability, openness, and soft feminine energy resting in his calm masculine strength.
Truly, most of my labor was calm and beautiful. The last hour began to be more intense but still quite manageable with the support of those around me. In the last 10 minutes the pain began to take over. I found my midwives eyes and locked contact with her as I breathed through the more intense contractions. I distinctly remember her telling me, “stay with it.”
Wow. That’s when it hit me. You stay with a contraction no matter how hard and difficult and impossible it feels. As mothers, we stay with it. During the sleepless newborn nights we “stay with it.” When grief hits us like a train wreck and turns our world upside down we allow ourselves to “stay with it” and feel the depths of how hard it is even if all we want to do is run from those feelings, to deny their existence, and perhaps even distract ourselves.
There is a gift to pregnancy, labor and delivery. It teaches us life lessons about motherhood through a beautiful birth story of a precious babe in ways that we could never learn otherwise. It’s just up to us if we will allow ourselves to feel the depths of hard to receive the gift of a story.
I had two more extremely hard contractions and Flora was born. As she crowned my friend and midwives sang over us, “Joyful Joyful We Adore Thee.” It is forever the song of my heart where heaven meets earth, in life and death, in sorrow and joy.
She is our vibrant and healthy little bundle of joy, born surrounded by love and flowers in the beauty of the rising sun, when dawn breaks to herald the day.
Only days after Flora was born, the first of my Zinnia’s began to bloom. From the last of my zinnia blooms last year, to the first of the blooms this year. I’m not sure why God chose to take my mother home when I needed her so desperately as a young mother myself. I’m not sure why this is my story. For the first time, to welcome a child into our home without the love and support of my own mother. But, this is my story, this is my song. Praising my Savior all the day long.
Flora is named in honor of my Mother. My mother was a gardener of hearts and souls and a gardener of the soil. Flora, may our love for you bloom in your heart forever. And may your heart unfold like all the wildflowers bursting forth in springtime towards the Son.
Joy - we do not choose our season to be born, God does! And he has chosen to bring us JOY in a season marked with sorrow and mourning. Blessed be our little bundle of joy who has warmed our hearts and home. She is truly a gift of joy to my heart as a Mother.
This is my first little babe where my own mother has not been present and in our home. She is missed tremendously. I had this painting commissioned of my Mother as an angel holding my little Flora Joy.
