I breathe in deep.
Just like I’d practiced.
Practice does not make perfect, but it prepares the soul for imperfect perfection. Indeed the waiting is worth it.
In between the contractions that pull and stretch and tempt my heart to retreat.
He, the one who loves me like no other, wipes the sweat from my brow and reminds me of what I asked him to do. You can do this Babe, I believe in you. I’m here for you.
We sway back and forth in that hospital room, gown draped down to the floor. I clutch his jean belt loops with my fingers as the in-between reprieves grow shorter and I can feel the wave of contractions growing stronger.
We sway. Dancing, with my bare feet and baby inside me moving downward. I rock and sway and it’s all beautiful and painful wrapped up in one glorious encounter.
I never considered natural birth before. After all, I had two previous pregnancies full of IV’s, monitors, pitocin, and epidurals.
But not this one. I was determined to make it different.
It was time. The in-between moments were no longer. One contraction merged with the next and the next until I thought my resolve might just spill out on that cold hospital floor.
I climb up on that narrow bed and scream for the doctors to pull that baby out. I see my husband, tears rolling down his face, not knowing how to help the intensity of pain I’m in.
You’re gonna do it, sweetie. Wait for the next contraction and you will do it! the doctor whispered back.
And he was right… the next moment, after three long pushes he was here. All the glorious in-betweens brought me a beautiful, healthy baby boy.
I do not regret natural birth. It was one of the best experiences I’ve ever had.
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