DeShae's Labor Stories...[beautiful]

(hey guys i read this story in birthstories.com, i thought u would like it)




Life Changing


By DeShae



Many birth stories relate facts of the events leading up to the birth of a baby: where the mom was when her water broke, what the dad was doing when he found out his wife was in labor, how many hours the mom pushed, etc. Many moms- and dads-to-be devour these stories in search of some shred of evidence that their own birth story will be similar to that which they learned. For example, if a first-time mom who is 31 reads of another first-time mom who was 31 and was in active labor for two hours she might deduce that she could have a similar active labor time. These factual events are important to ease some of the anxiety experienced by soon-to-be-parents. But I think they also do a disservice to them. They only get half the picture. The incredible emotional, mental, spiritual side to birth stories is just as, if not more so, relevant. These are my three very unique and very special birth stories. I will not bore you with the minute details of how many centimeters I was dilated at each stage in labor. But what I will tell you is how the birth of my three children changed me, challenged me, humbled me and brought me to a place where I am bestowed the great honor of holding the title of mother and serving in that position with another great honor bearer, my husband, the father. Blake
I found out I was pregnant with my first child when I was 19 and my boyfriend and I just broke up. The incredible roller coaster of emotions over the next 9 months, coupled with the physical challenges of pregnancy, tossed me from scared to death to quiet confidence to depression to elation and everywhere in between. I had severe insomnia, partly due to the physical ramifications of pregnancy, but mostly due to my high anxiety. I knew I was having a boy, and the questions of how I was going to raise a child on my own plagued my every waking thought. How could I discipline without a man to reinforce me? How was I to provide financially for us? How was I, a woman, going to teach a boy how to become a man? How could I replace all the masculine things a boy is naturally inclined to do and a woman is not? As my due date neared the anxiety increased. It was ten days before my due date, and I couldn't sleep. Finally, after hours of tossing and turning, I prayed, God, I can't control when I go into labor. All I know is it could happen sometime over the next few weeks. This is out of my control. I feel like I am not ready to be a mom. However, I know that you don't make mistakes. So when I do go into labor I will know that at that time you have full confidence in me that I am ready to be the mother you created me to be. Until that time I'm not going to worry about it. So whenever you're ready, God, I'll know you trust me with this child. Amen. I fell right to sleep and two hours later woke up in labor. Suddenly, all the emotional strife experienced over the last 9 months manifested itself in a physical sensation so intense I felt my body couldn't take it. I tried to remain calm and do my breathing, but at the peak of every contraction I felt the strain and hopelessness and all the unknowns of being a single parent rear it's ugly head. As the labor progressed and birth was nearing the overwhelming sensation of drowning in the circumstances surrounding the birth of this little one threatened to unravel my grip on reality. To me, the physical pain wasn't even close to the emotional uncertainty closing in on me at lightening speed. Gone was the security I felt after the prayer just a few hours ago. I looked at my mother, who was my coach. My eyes pleaded with her. I can't do this! I yelled. I can't be the mother God intended this baby to have. I can't provide for him like he deserves. I can't do this, God. My mother, who has the wisdom and insight to look beyond words to the heart of the matter, looked right into my eyes and said three unarguable, unconquerable and unforgettable words: Yes, you can! She reaffirmed for me what God had already proven the night before. They believed in me. My son was born. They wrapped him and put him in my arms. He opened his eyes and looked at me and sighed. He looked so content. I guess I thought he would act like, great job, God, sticking me with someone like her. But he didn't act like that at all. He totally trusted me to be his mom. Well, with all these people believing in me there was nothing else I could do but be the best mom I could possibly be. Dixie
I was honored to marry a man of integrity in September 1998. In September 1999, our daughter was born. I can't really describe how I felt when the ultrasound showed we were having a girl. Fear again crept into the picture. I was comfortable with a boy. I knew boys liked trucks, the color blue, to get dirty. Girls were a mystery. All of sudden our lives were painted pink. What was I to do with a girl? God forbid she turns out like me. I was a wreck where feminine matters and womanhood came into the picture. I was still trying to figure out how to be a wife, the female side of a partnership, selfless yet equal to my husband. What a mess I was. I found myself asking deep questions, like what does it mean, really, to be a woman? I knew I had all the physical components to label myself as such, but what was the heart of a woman? Once again I turned toward my female role models, my mother and grandmothers. What were they like as women? They all led very different lives. My grandmother never worked outside the home, whereas my mom was a career woman. But those were just circumstances that show little of the heart and depth that a woman is. If I was nervous before about teaching Blake to become a man I was even more nervous about teaching my daughter how to be a woman. With Blake I could always say, well, I've never been a man so I don't really know. With my daughter I would have no such excuse. I realized I didn't really like myself as a woman. I thought that my greatest attribute as a woman was my sexuality. And that is certainly part of being a whole woman. But I had turned it into the dominating, all-inclusive part of my identity. I am woman, hear me roar was my attitude. Because I was a single parent who worked, graduated from a university, made it through it all, I had become so self-sufficient, self-reliant and self-absorbed that I had built an insurmountable wall around me. I had surmised that was what being a woman was. Having a career, being a mom, being a sexual creature was the steel heart I had beating in my chest. Was that truly what a woman is? Because I didn't really like it. At the end of the day I wanted to lay my head on my husband's chest and have his big strong arms wrap around me and tell me that he would take care of me. I wanted him to tell me that I didn't have to battle by myself, that he was ready to do it for me. Again, I turned to the only one I knew had all the answers, God. God, I prayed, show me what it is to be a woman. Because I am so confused. Again, I found myself in labor. The pain was more excruciating than I remembered, of course. At first the contractions were manageable. I would hold onto the railing and close my eyes and breathe. Soon, though, the contractions reached a point where I couldn't manage the pain by my breathing and relaxing techniques. But I was woman, hear me roar, and I was not going to take pain medication, and I was not going to hold my husband's hand. I had done it all by myself for so long, I didn't want to look at my husband standing by the bed with me. Then, like a ray of light, I realized what I was doing. I didn't want to need my husband. I wanted to be a woman who could do it all by herself. I felt I was weak if I needed a man. Another contraction came, and I saw white searing pain. With anguish-filled eyes I remember looking at my husband and seeing his confident soft eyes filled with pain at seeing me in so much pain. All I could think was, This man loves me. And I needed him to love me right then when I was in the throws of labor. I needed him to be strong when I could no longer be strong all by myself. That was what a woman was, being vulnerable when you have to and letting a man be a man. Dixie's tiny little petite self was born, and she was screaming and hollering. They placed her in my arms, and she was mad. She was screaming so loud I was sure the whole floor heard her. My husband looked at me and said, Just like you. Yes, just like me. What an awesome responsibility God gave me in my daughter. Here was someone, like it or not, who would pattern her own feminine identity after me. If Blake's birth challenged me to be the mom God created me to be, Dixie's birth challenged me to be the woman God created me to be. Natalie
Throw everything you know out the window with the third child. My pregnancy was totally different than with my previous two. My labor and delivery was totally different than with my other two. The circumstances surrounding her birth was totally different, and the emotions I felt were totally different than anything I've ever experienced. I marveled at how a tiny sperm and tiny egg could come together to determine whether a person will like vanilla or chocolate ice cream, strawberry or grape jam, a defiant or complacent approach to life. I found myself thinking about the physiological aspect of a baby growing inside a womb to be a totally unique individual like one that has never been born before or ever will be. I thought a lot about how the baby is totally dependent on its mother for its survival in the womb. And once the baby is born it begins a long and arduous process to pull away from dependence and attain independence. I remember as a first-time mom crying when I left Blake at day care. Or making sure everything was absolutely sterilized before he took one step into a room. Or taking a hundred pictures when we went to a park and he slept in the stroller the whole time. This third pregnancy helped me realize that what I was doing was holding onto a situation where I was needed, where I was in total control. Babies need their moms and dads. Blake needed me when he was a baby. Now he was 8, and he didn't need me as much, and I felt rejected. Dixie was always independent, but she also needed confirmation many times throughout the day what was for girls and what was for boys. Dresses are for girls, right mom? She would ask. But I felt my children getting older, and here I was pregnant with another little girl who would eventually walk to kindergarten, get her driver's license, go to college and move out. I was holding on so tightly to a place where I was becoming more and more secure: motherhood. I didn't want to let my children grow up. They needed me. But the harsh reality that they wouldn't need me forever was setting in. And I grieved over it. My baby wasn't even born yet, and I was sad that she was moving out of the house. Was this what life was about? Being used for a little while and then being thrown away when I became irrelevant. I liked myself as a mom and as a woman. Now I just realized that my circumstances would change and I'd have to reconnect with who I am once again. What does it mean to be a mom of an adult child? Is there a difference? Obviously, there are no diapers, but will there be resentment, hostility or silence? Will I know them as adults, or am I just for diaper duty, taxi and disciplinarian? What was happening? Did I like it? Was I scared? Sad? Angry? Disillusioned? Yes to all of them. God, I don't know what's going on here. I don't know how to approach this new stage in life. What do I feel or do or not do? Help me. Natalie was born. It was as if glitter was frozen in the air at her birth. One moment I was pushing, holding onto my husband, taking direction from the midwife, and the next, flecks of gold and silver danced in the air as they put a beautiful precious little lady on my chest. She has blue almost purple almost gray almost every color of the rainbow eyes. She has the most amazing eyes. For the first few weeks of her life I could hardly stand to look into her eyes. When she looked at me it was if she were boring into my soul, like she could sense my every emotion, every thought by looking into my eyes. Whenever Dixie cries, she cries. Whenever Blake laughs, she laughs. She can sense every emotion in the room. Then the ray of light hit again. There was a moment when I didn't realize to a moment when I did. My children were little people. My son is amazing. He's patient with his sisters yet is a leader in every situation, play or work. Dixie is spirited and determined. One day I was telling her that she could accomplish anything that God gave her to do. And she stood on the chair and said, Can I fly, Mom? Natalie is a poet and dreamer. Even at 6 months she is a thinker and incredibly intuitive. My children are little people, and I like them. When they were babies they were sweet and smelled good and cute and I loved them. But now they are turning into pretty cool people that I am honored to know. How blessed am I to get to know these special people I call my children. Those are my birth stories. All the medical facts of where I was when my water broke or how many times I vomited in the first trimester are all valid parts of the process. And I will say that all my pregnancies had their share of discomforts, and all my labor and deliveries were physically painful. Many mothers compare the discomforts of pregnancy or compete over the length of labor. But birth stories are about so much more than varicose veins, episiotomies or morning sickness. They're about life, learning about your own and discovering another. If God made the process easy, I wouldn't have learned the invaluable lessons I learned in each stage. If pregnancy were always planned and pain free then we wouldn't appreciate the end result. It is the physical and emotional struggle that enables us to grasp the miraculous event of birth.

that shit is too damn long to read. and i dont even know DeShae

It was long for real.But it was interesting.

well that was def. a long one, but if you read the whole thing it was worth it... I thought that was pretty cool, a new twist on the whole birth story!

yea it was looooong lol....but since im bored i just read it and yes it was worth it, i loved the way she told the stories.....

that was sweet. now i feel like less of a person.

Hey, that was beautiful and it gives you another way to look at pregnancy and giving birth. It made me more aware of the entire process as well as the end result.

Thanks for sharing.  

Quoting MissSandy:“ Hey, that was beautiful and it gives you another way to look at pregnancy and giving birth. It made me more aware of the entire process as well as the end result. Thanks for sharing.  ”

ur welcome sweets!