, but God. (10.23.22)

It’s Michael again.

I saw a friend in passing last Wednesday. He was wearing a sweater with an entwined worm and the phrase “Fear is the mind killer.” I knew I recognized it and thought maybe it was a depiction of Ouroboros (the mythological serpent who is constantly eating it’s own tail). Then I remembered it was a quote from Dune. The “Ouroboros” was actually a sand worm and the quote was a mantra from one of the main characters.

It stuck out to me because all last week Marcy and I (okay, mostly Marcy) had been binge watching Bridgette Teyler’s birth class videos. She has an entire section of the course devoted to the mind of the pregnant mother. Turns out that the intensity and progress of labor are tremendously impacted by how the mother is feeling mentally and emotionally. All you women probably already knew this, but it was news to me. So, the quote from the sweater stuck in my head. I thought maybe I could use it to support Marcy. She’s never read Dune and probably wouldn’t get the quote, but at the very least I could use it to help myself remember to foster an atmosphere of joy when her labor began.

Side note, that’s from the birth plan, “atmosphere of joy”. Marcy had this figured out long before me.

If you’ve never been in a delivery room, or never paid attention, they all have a special white board where the nurses can write important things. (I’ve been to two different hospitals now, so I can definitively say they all have these things) There’s a spot for the patients name, the name of their support person, and the names of medical team personnel. There’s also spots to put pain level and treatment goals. I’m probably not supposed to write anything on them. But they left the marker in the room, so I wrote atmosphere of joy in the goals section.

This was important to me because I wanted Marcy’s labor to be as easy as it could possibly be. For her, but also for Abigail.

I also needed to remind myself because for the past few months I have been simultaneously anticipating and dreading Abigail’s birth. I desperately wanted to meet and hold her. I needed, on a visceral level, for her to be born alive. I was ready to fight a doctor in order to protect her and keep her safe. I would fantasize about sneaking her out of the hospital if they changed their minds and wouldn’t let me have her body. But I was also worried about how I would react when I saw her for the first time. Back in the summer I had looked up pictures of what babies with anencephaly could look like to try and prepare and the images broke me. I was afraid that would happen again when I met Abby. I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to explain things to Theo. I was deathly afraid that something was going to happen to Marcy and I would lose both of them. I was afraid that Abby would be born alive, but then linger for days or weeks all while I try to stay awake the whole time and worry about what to do.

I was afraid and my fear was crippling me.

But God.

Then a miracle happened. And another. And another, and on and on and on until I couldn’t keep track and it was undeniable that God’s hand was orchestrating every detail of this weekend.

One would have been enough, three was a big plenty, seven would have been perfect, twelve fullness. But myriads and myriads. Miracles without count. And then more.

You must by now think it is hyperbole, but it isn’t. To say so is to say you don’t know my God.

I ran service calls at work Friday. All short, simple repairs. I could have left at anytime. I left an hour before I normally would have.

We made it to the hospital and met our friend M who was going to take Theo. M was able to leave work without any issue too.

The assessment NP thought Marcy was dilated to a 5, maybe a 6 so they were going to move us to a birthing room. We got the one everyone had been praying for. The one that everyone wants because of the view and the tub, but that there is only one of. Maybe two.

Our favorite doctor wasn’t on schedule Friday and when we asked they told us a different doctor was scheduled instead. I made a joke about kidnapping our preferred doctor. Half an hour later we were in the delivery room and the nurse told us our preferred doctor would be there in an hour and was covering a shift that would last all night.

Our photographer and videographer arrived in plenty of time, knew of each other, worked fabulously together and were both professional and personable. The videographer practically became our doula.

Marcy labored in the positions she wanted to and was not forced to lay on her back. Without medication.

The people we needed to be there arrived in time, some just in time.

Abby was born alive and was held her entire life. She never appeared to be in distress and passed so gently that I can’t point to the exact time.

Theo was able to not only meet Abby, but spend time with her while she was still alive.

Pastor C was able to lead a baby dedication for Abigail with so many people in the room (looking back, I think God temporarily made the room physically larger to get everyone in. I’m not joking) and while she was still alive.

We were able to contact the cemetery on the weekend and plan the burial for when we wanted. I was able to dig her grave and help get it ready.

M and J took such amazing care of Theo so that Marcy and I could take care of Abigail. I know that I can trust them with anything.

Theo has also had several moments to process Abby’s death. And in those moments I’ve seen him love her and begin to understand. It’s going to take a long time, I suspect, for him to fully understand what happened, but I can already see God guiding him and helping him process.

Marcy and I decided that we wanted to be at church on Sunday. God used that service and our pastors and people to minister to us in so many ways. Every song spoke exactly what I was feeling and what I needed to proclaim.

Marcy knew exactly what she needed to do in order to get Abigail ready for burial. And she was able to do all of it with the help of J and R. I couldn’t help but mentally compare the three of them to the women who prepared Jesus for burial. The amount of love and tenderness was palpable.

We were able to bury Abigail in a beautiful place covered in wildflowers. We had a private ceremony and T and M came to support us. They lost a baby 26 years ago in a very similar situation. I relate to them more than anyone else, so I know it must have been hard for them to be there, but they came because they know and because they love us. I’ll always love them for that.

There other miracles as well that I just can’t remember today.

Then when I thought the miracles were all over, that I could move on and find a new rhythm, God did it again.

I was walking to the grocery store to get a few things for breakfast and put Maverick City Music on shuffle. The first song was so perfect to my experience that it felt like a wink from God. He was reaching down into my situation and wrapping me in peace while also elbowing me in the ribs with a “look what I can do.”

I believe without a doubt that God has us in his goodness and protection. He has orchestrated every event of this weekend and shown his glory. He has proven trustworthy and I know I should have given myself into his trust months ago rather than live in fear.

But my memory is short and I am quick to give control back to fear. In this way I am Ouroboros; fearing until God reminds me to trust, then forgetting and fearing until the cycle repeats.

But God.

God never forgets me and he continues to demonstrate his trustworthiness over and over again.

P.S.

For those looking for a playlist see below:

Songs from Sunday morning

- Our God

- Joy

- You are my strength

- Goodness of God

Maverick City songs

- You hold it all together

- Champion