Yesterday was my son M.C.’s 5th birthday. He woke up to 4 inches of snow, and was very sure that it was God’s present to him! He got to celebrate with his friends at pre-school. Then he and I got to trek through the snow with our loyal collie/lab (our husky was inside since she doesn’t like to be cold!??) It was fun to spend time with him on our special day. I say “our” because I think birthdays are for moms too.
5 years ago, after another of my infamously long labors, our very large, beautiful boy was born. Unfortunately my body was tired out by then. Everything started going downhill for me. I didn’t get scared until I really looked at my midwife’s face and saw how intense she was. Everything seemed to happen in slow-motion. The medical staff stopped talking to me, as they worked to stop the bleeding and save my life. I looked over at Chris holding our new baby, and a sense of peace washed over me like I’ve never experienced before or since. I felt a release in my heart – like a letting go of Chris, my 21 month-old son, this new baby we hadn’t yet named, and of everything else that is part of my life. It is impossible to explain this experience, really. But as I passed out from blood loss, I felt that Jesus was coming to get me, and that I was okay with that, and ready to go. He didn’t come, or rather He didn’t take me that day. My midwife and the hospital staff made sure of that. I came back to this world, and my life, but I have never been the same. I had a new urgency in my heart. My work wasn’t enough anymore, and I felt that I was left here for something more.
In the next few days I spent time with my new son, but it would take 6 months before I was back to normal, physically. My nurse during the birth told me that a couple of days before, she had told her supervisor that she would like some critical care experience, not knowing what I would bring to her life 3 days later. My midwife was also affected. She came to sit with me later and told me that only about 50 years ago they wouldn’t have had the techniques to save me. I realized after she left that TODAY in so much of the world, I would not have survived.
It was the first time that I thought about international adoption in a personal way. I realized how unfair it was that my son would get to grow up with his birth mom simply because of an excellent hospital, when so many children lose their mothers every day. A growing sense of responsibility was planted that day. I do not feel “blessed” that I lived, when in other parts of the world, childbirth carries one of the highest mortality rates for women. I feel a sense of responsibility. That because I lived, I need to do something for the women and children who don’t have the “right” to the medical care we enjoy and expect. God doesn’t love Americans more. He doesn’t love me more. But maybe He leaves a few down here in privileged countries to do some important work for people everywhere else.
M.C. is funny, creative, loving, and challenging (out of all the kids we’ve had in our home he has made me question the saying “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle” more than a few times). His birthday continues to be a reminder to me that God expects some things of me. I guess I am still trying to figure out what that means…
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