One night over Chinese food, I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen. I winced. My mother who was sitting across from me at the dinner table asked what was wrong. It was five days before my due date. "Probably nothing," I said. I took another bite of my chicken and broccoli. There it was again. I doubled over. "Let's start timing your contractions," my mom said. I just kept on eating my dinner. It couldn't possibly be time. I wasn't even all packed yet for the hospital. The pain was coming every five minutes. An hour later, it was every three, and I finally called my doctor.
"Come on in," she said. "We'll take a look and see what's going on."
I remember driving away from my parents' house, my mom holding Josiah in her arms. In a way I was sad that he wasn't going to have me all to himself anymore. I didn't want to have to leave my sweet boy.
When we got to the hospital, I was convinced we wouldn't be staying. It would be braxton hicks contractions, and they would be sending us home in about an hour. We got to triage and I changed into a hospital gown and they hooked me up to monitors. I could feel the contractions coming steadily every three to five minutes. An hour after we got there, a nurse came in and said that no contractions were being picked up by the monitor. "What?!?!" I said in an annoyed tone, "An hour of this and I have nothing to show for it? If these aren't contractions, I don't want to see what contractions do feel like." The nurse checked me.
4 centimeters dilated and 90% effaced.
I would be staying.
By 8:00 I was in a delivery room. It was obvious at this point I would not get to enjoy the jacuzzi tub that they provided. I wouldn't get to try out my new slippers while walking laps around the maternity ward. I wouldn't get to enjoy the seasons of The Office on my laptop I brought. This baby was coming. Fast.
They checked me again. 6 centimeters. 100% effaced.
Epidural please? If I didn't get it soon, I wouldn't be able to. Two men came in to read me the risks. Yeah, yeah yeah....hurry please? As soon as they finished putting it in they checked me again. 10 centimeters. Time to push.
The anesthesiologist looked at me and put his hand on my shoulder. "I'm going to be honest." he spoke in a fatherly tone. "You're not going to get to enjoy the effects of this epidural. Most women get the epidural when they are between 2-4 centimeters."
Great. Needle in my back for nothing. I didn't care. A few more minutes and the pain would be over. And I don't just mean the physical pain. I pushed for 30 minutes.
"One more push, and she'll be here." The nurse said. I didn't believe her.
It was 10:04. I yelled and gripped Justin's hand until his fingers turned white. Then everything stood still. The clock, the air. I could see her perfect little round head and tiny hands and feet. She was here. Finally. I couldn't believe it.
"There actually was a baby in there!" I said trying to convince myself that the moment actually happened. For months I felt her kicking and hiccuping. Sometimes I let myself imagine what her tiny fingers looked like. And now they were wrapped around my thumb. I probably should have waited until they cleaned her off until I kissed her. But I couldn't help it. I wanted her to know that the first minute I saw her, I loved her. No one was going to take her away. She was ours. The one so many people had prayed for.
Our Molly Grace.
Molly means "Bitterness." Not a name that directly declared the goodness of God. It was just a name that always made me smile. Go ahead- try to say it without smiling. But the name was fitting. It was God's grace that was the remedy to my bitterness- the years of pain and recluse and blaming myself for my inability to be when God called me to be. His character was what taught me that I could trust Him with not only my future, but the future of my children.
His eye was on the sparrow and I know He cared for me. We held the proof in our hands.
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