My labor pains grew so intense, so quick that what had been a calm and steady pace gathering necessities for the hospital suddenly became a panicked frenzy. At least — I — was panicked and frenzied. My husband, Dwight, just looked dazed and confused. Poor guy. It was zero dark-thirty and February cold, but I needed him to move a heck-of-a lot faster. We gotta go! 

There are no words — only the deepest groans to describe the pains that gripped me like a vice and brought me to the floor as I tried to make my way to the door — to the hospital —  to people who knew what in the world they were doing!

I’d given birth three times before, but my labor hadn’t ever progressed so quickly. On a scale from 1-10, the pain had started at .5. It intensified a little to 2, then jumped the track into the depths of Sheol! There was barely time to catch my breath between contractions —  to make it a few more steps to our vehicle. I quickly crawled into the passenger side and braced myself for the ride.

There was no way I could endure this pain for the thirty-minute trip to the hospital. Surely, my body would shut down from shock. I pleaded with God for relief — to ease my suffering. We had barely made it out of our driveway when a strong urge to bear down took over my body. I remember whimpering like a child at that moment. This can’t happen here! Fears ran crazy in my mind. Will my baby live?

Dwight made it onto the highway and for once, I couldn’t have cared less how fast he was driving. I was too busy snatching my pants down to deliver our son. You may be wondering why Dwight didn’t stop to help, but no joke —  it all happened too quick for him to stop.

He remembers a bone-chilling scream and I most recall both of my hands on Samuel’s shoulders; pulling him out and onto my chest. I’m cringing at the thought myself. He cried just long enough to ease my fears about his ability to breathe, and then we were all quiet and relieved — still speeding down the highway, but quiet and relieved.

Samuel was so peaceful and beautiful. I watched his dark eyes scan his strange, new surroundings. I can still see his familiar, outstretched toes. I laughed… He’s got your feet. Welcome to the world, Samuel.

Pain? What Pain?God has taught me more about the pain of life through motherhood than anything else. Yes, being a mother is joyful and beautiful and deeply rewarding — but these gifts are often birthed in sorrow and pain; fear and discouragement. Yes, hard things are the way to grow — to develop confidence — to learn a deeper, better understanding of faith, hope and love.

Faith

We humans are pain avoiders. And why not?! It hurts! We ignore it, deny it, numb it — whatever we can do to sidestep suffering, we’ll do. I can guarantee you’ll not hear me asking for it, but I understand that deep intimacy and trust is formed with God in great suffering — like buried treasure that can’t be had by the faint-hearted.

I understand that in as much as I can accept and walk through suffering — not deny it — not plaster on a smile and slap easy-isms on it — but walk through it — crawl through it — cry through it — fight through it and honestly feel every rotten thing through it with my Lord, then I strengthen my children to do the same.

Hope

I don’t like to wait, especially when I’m in pain. It’s brutal to a heart and soul to wait day after day, month after month, year after year for relief from pain and sorrow. When relief does come, it’s a great delight, but I’ve learned that there’s deeper treasure to be had when it doesn’t. It’s a strengthening of the mind that can develop — that is, an endurance to keep going — to know that our story in this life is not about fulfillment in the here and now. It’s about waiting and hoping for the next life when our hope will be seen. When I accept the waiting and speak with expectation, I strengthen my children to do the same.

Love

The world tells us that unconditional love means anything goes. But God tells us that love requires discipline — that it isn’t pleasant, but sorrowful — but in the end, it brings about the best things for those who have been trained by it. (See Hebrews 12:11)

I can’t say that I like discipline AT ALL. I don’t like getting it. I don’t like giving it. But I appreciate it. I see the fruit of it in myself. Understanding and accepting suffering has helped me better know God’s goodness and true love — that it doesn’t always feel good, but it can bring about good if I’ll believe He knows best and has my best interest in mind. Genuine love and confidence grows and strengthens in me and my children. 

Happy Mother’s Day!

In life, faith & art ~ Jamie