"I hasten to give back my entrance ticket."

In today's She Reads Truth, we read about Exodus and how that is all part of God's plan and that Exodus points us to Christ and his redemption. I can believe all of that on a macro level, but when I think about the micro level, I get all kinds of sad and angry. I imagine what my faith would have been like as a slave in Egypt, praying for deliverance and then realizing I would die before deliverance came. Or if I was a mother in Egypt whose baby boy was murdered while Moses grew up- miraculously delivered from death by God. Why not my son? Why did God let my child die? 

I recognize that these are all different ways of wrestling with the question "why/ how can God allow suffering?" I think it's good to wrestle with it from a lot of different angles. It creates empathy and openness to learn. 

Part of our reading from yesterday's She Reads Truth was from Genesis 3:16-19:

To the woman he said,

“I will surely multiply your pain in childbearing;

iin pain you shall bring forth children.

jYour desire shall be contrary to6 your husband,

but he shall krule over you.”

17 And to Adam he said,

“Because you have listened to the voice of your wife

and have eaten of the tree

lof which I commanded you,

‘You shall not eat of it,’

mcursed is the ground because of you;

nin pain you shall eat of it all the days of your life;

18  thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you;

and you shall eat the plants of the field.

19  By the sweat of your face

you shall eat bread,

till you return to the ground,

for out of it you were taken;

ofor you are dust,

and pto dust you shall return.”

Reading this curse brings grief and sadness and longing, and yes, anger, into my heart. 

Thinking about those poor murdered babies, and the ones later- when Christ comes and Herod kills the babies in Bethlehem, I am often reminded of Ivan Karamazov's conversation with Alyosha in The Brothers Karamazov. I highly recommend reading the whole chapter and the next- they are powerful.  (or just read the whole thing). In this chapter, Ivan, an "atheist" recounts multiple anecdotes of people torturing or abusing children. He says:

"Can you understand why a little creature, who can't even understand what's done to her, should beat her little aching heart with her tiny fist in the dark and the cold, and weep her meek unresentful tears to dear, kind God to protect her? Do you understand that, friend and brother, you pious and humble novice? Do you understand why this infamy must be and is permitted? Without it, I am told, man could not have existed on earth, for he could not have known good and evil. Why should he know that diabolical good and evil when it costs so much? Why, the whole world of knowledge is not worth that child's prayer to ‘dear, kind God’! I say nothing of the sufferings of grown-up people, they have eaten the apple, damn them, and the devil take them all! But these little ones! I am making you suffer, Alyosha, you are not yourself. I'll leave off if you like.” 

“Never mind. I want to suffer too,” muttered Alyosha." . . . 

". . . too high a price is asked for harmony; it's beyond our means to pay so much to enter on it. And so I hasten to give back my entrance ticket, and if I am an honest man I am bound to give it back as soon as possible. And that I am doing. It's not God that I don't accept, Alyosha, only I most respectfully return Him the ticket.” 

“That's rebellion,” murmured Alyosha, looking down 

“Rebellion? I am sorry you call it that,” said Ivan earnestly. “One can hardly live in rebellion, and I want to live. Tell me yourself, I challenge you—answer. Imagine that you are creating a fabric of human destiny with the object of making men happy in the end, giving them peace and rest at last, but that it was essential and inevitable to torture to death only one tiny creature—that baby beating its breast with its fist, for instance—and to found that edifice on its unavenged tears, would you consent to be the architect on those conditions? Tell me, and tell the truth.” “No, I wouldn't consent,” said Alyosha softly. “And can you admit the idea that men for whom you are building it would agree to accept their happiness on the foundation of the unexpiated blood of a little victim? And accepting it would [270] remain happy for ever?” 

“No, I can't admit it. Brother,” said Alyosha suddenly, with flashing eyes, “you said just now, is there a being in the whole world who would have the right to forgive and could forgive? But there is a Being and He can forgive everything, all and for all, because He gave His innocent blood for all and everything. You have forgotten Him, and on Him is built the edifice, and it is to Him they cry aloud, ‘Thou art just, O Lord, for Thy ways are revealed!’ ” 

“Ah! the One without sin and His blood! No, I have not forgotten Him; on the contrary I've been wondering all the time how it was you did not bring Him in before, for usually all arguments on your side put Him in the foreground. Do you know, Alyosha—don't laugh! I made a poem about a year ago. If you can waste another ten minutes on me, I'll tell it to you.” (from Brother's Karamazov, "Rebellion" Book V. Chapter IV). 

The story continues, but I find the same question in my heart as Ivan poses: how could I choose to let even one child suffer, as millions have, to save the whole world? How could God choose that? I think part of the answer is that Christ can choose that because He was willing to suffer and die, and in doing so, saved the whole world. It still does not make sense to me, and I do not understand why God has allowed it to be so, but I trust that there is a wisdom there that I do not understand. I also think that I have a lot to learn about how God redeems suffering. By my math, nothing can redeem some kinds of suffering, but I'm not very good at math. ;) 

At the same time, I believe that I am right to be angry at the suffering of the innocent. I believe that God is angry about injustice and that He will avenge it. 

Reflections on Jonah 1 and 2

I'm reading the She Reads Truth study on the minor prophets.
Today, I'm in Jonah, and it's so rich, I thought I'd type it up here to share.

First, I'm impressed by how much Jonah does to avoid doing God's will, and then to confess! In the boat, they have to wake him, tell him to pray because they're all going to die. He doesn't say "oh yeah, that's God trying to get my attention" and they have to throw all the cargo overboard and eventually cast lots. Finally, when the lot is cast on him, he confesses that he's running away from God and that they should just throw him overboard.

Then, these sailors work hard to save him by trying to row to shore! I'm so impressed by the faith of the sailors- they pray, they ask questions, and then they risk their lives and put their skin in the game to try to keep Jonah alive. When they realize that Jonah is right, they pray and ask God to forgive them for throwing Jonah overboard (to what they assume is his death). That's pretty amazing to me.

Second, and everyone points this out- God pursues Jonah. In the She Reads Truth study it says "God's pursuit is relentless exactly because He is so loving. . . God wanted Jonah. Good, isn't that amazing? I sometimes feel like I'm a substandard version of the person who should actually be living my life. . . But despite my imperfections and failings. . . God gives specific callings to specific people (Ephesians 2:10). That means God wants me for my particular calling and life."

http://shereadstruth.com/2017/10/17/jonahs-call/

From Jonah chapter 2, I was struck by the fact that Jonah waits 3 days and nights in the fish's belly before crying out to God. Was he still pouting in there? Refusing to ask for help since that would mean having to obey?

Sometimes I feel guilty when I ask God for help and comfort if I haven't been diligent in Bible Study or prayer/ meditation/ communion with Him (so, almost always). But Jonah says "I am cast out of they holy temple, yet I will look again toward they holy temple" (2:4) and "When my sould fainted within me, I remembered the Lord: and my prayer came in unto they holy temple" (2:6) Jonah didn't remember God UNTIL his soul fainted! And "the Lord spake unto the fish, and it vomited out Jonah upon the dry land!

Why? Why did God listen to Jonah? "For thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive; and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon thee." Psalm 86:5 God listens to Jonah, and to me, because of who HE is, not because I am ever good enough or diligent enough to attract His attention and care. That is so comforting and relieving to me!

"Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need." (Heberew 4:16). Amen! I can not let guilt or fear keep me from asking God for help.

Here are some excerpts from today's reading that I feel like are relevant to my previous post about miscarriage:

"I bet if Jonah had know beforehand that he would get swallowed by a fish, he never would have stepped foot on that boat. Many of the places God brings us to are ones we would never choose for ourselves. But that is the point: when we stop trying to find ourselves, we can see that we've already been found.

"Pastor and auther A.W. Tozer said, 'In every generation, the people who have found God have been those who have come to the end of themselves. Recognizing their hopelessness, they have been ready to throw themselves on the mercy and grace of a forgiving God.' ***

"Of course we don't want to walk through storms and sit in darkness and sleep in the underbelly. But what if we remembered these are the places where grace usually meets us? Sometimes grace is messy and dark. Sometimes mercy is painful and scary. God does not need perfect circumstances to bring us closer to HIm. In face, it's usually the opposite.

"Let's not overlook that Jonah thanks God for raising his life from the pit while he is still in it. May we do the same today, allowing grace to meet us and mercy to surprise us. We can trust that even as we cry out to God in our distress, He is faithfuul to answer our call. (Jonah 2:2). Thanks be to God"

http://shereadstruth.com/2017/10/18/jonahs-prayer-2/

(In retrospect, maybe I should have just posted the whole blog, lol).

*** I, Gloria, used to hate this quote, because I didn't feel like I'd ever been brought to the end of myself, so I felt kindof disqualified from considering myself a good Christian, and because I really, really wanted there to be a short cut to avoid being brought to the end of myself. Like, couldn't I maybe just turn to God and ask for help before I ran out of strength? I think that's always a good thing to do, but I see now that being totally helpless digs deeper into the soul.

Walking with a Limp

Last year at a Super Bowl party is when I first started bleeding a little bit. It would take a couple of days to become a full blown miscarriage and medical emergency, but I remember very clearly that I started to feel sick and almost instantly tired at this party and noticed some bleeding. 

I've heard people talk about our bodies carrying memories. I've been curious to look up the actual date of the miscarriage because I honestly don't remember, but tonight, all the talk about the Superbowl is what triggered the emotions for me. 

It's been a year. It's been a long year. And surprising to me, I needed the reminder that it's only been a year. I need to have grace for myself and the healing that I still need to do. I need to give myself space to work out within myself how I feel about wanting or having more children. Or about not wanting or having more children. Or even the what if of those two getting crossed- wanting more children and not having them and not wanting more children and then getting pregnant. I don't have answers for all of that, and in its own way, that is an answer. I don't have to know. What I do know is that I never want to say "I just" or "only" have two children. Contentment and gratitude have been guiding stars for me through some very dark times this year. 

As I have processed various parts of what I consider the trauma of my miscarriage experience in the ER, I have thought often of the story of Jacob, when he wrestles with God. He will not let God (in the form of a man) go. So God touches the socket of his hip so that his hip was wrenched, and, I presume, he walks the rest of his life with a limp. That is strangely comforting to me. I feel like I will walk the rest of my life with a limp, and I have a feeling this experience will not be my only injury.

I think we hear a lot of rhetoric about how hardships make us stronger. How God uses them to perfect us. Or the good old "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Practically biblical, that one. I even put it in my blog about this- that I trusted God to make me stronger or to grow me through this. I'm not sure I believe that anymore. 

The summer after the miscarriage I experience what I believe was postpartum depression "light," which I did not address. In September, I experienced severe anxiety about medical interventions (blood draws/ ivs) or other emergencies, complete with full blown physical symptoms of nausea, partial paralysis while I was trying to sleep, and insomnia. Thankfully, miraculously, the symptoms, which I fully believed at the time were going to be eternal, lifted, and I was able to get some treatment for PTSD. I've also reflected on Job. I think I can handle some kinds of "affliction" better than others, and physical pain and mental health struggles are probably the two I've feared the most. Actually, that's not true- I feared physical pain, but until this year, I've never actually feared mental health struggles. I didn't think they would touch me. I didn't know to fear them because I didn't understand them. I pridefully thought that I was immune from them. *shakes head*. Even now, I'm grateful that my struggles were short lived. I can't imagine dealing with chronic pain or depression. 

This past year has forced me to consider that I may not get stronger. I couldn't/ can't self-will my way out of all that mess like I've done with other difficulties in my life. These fears and anxieties and physical reactions are not something that I can harness to become a better person. I can't "get over" them. And, my favorite, I can't "face them and conquer them" as I have tried to do with some of my other fears (rock climbing to overcome fear of heights etc). In fact, ALL of my fears feel magnified to where I'm not even sure that I could handle rappelling or mountaineering. I might turn into a nervous wreck. I hope one day to return to those activities. Whether I can or not, I'm aware that I may always struggle when I need medical care. That I may always fear a trip to the ER. That I may never be as strong in my faith and in my confidence as I once was. I certainly do not have the ability to heal myself or make myself stronger. 

Perhaps God doesn't want me to be stronger. Perhaps He wants me to realize how incredibly powerless and insignificant I am; one not-even-that-great-of-a-human in an ocean of humans on one tiny, struggling planet in an unfathomably vast universe. I'm not even saying that was it- that learning how weak I am was "the lesson." Maybe there isn't a lesson. Or maybe I don't need to know what the lesson is. But what I do know is that God does know and care for me. He is with me. And while that may not carry all the assurances that I would like for it to, I realize that I have to choose for that to be enough even when it really, really doesn't feel like it.

I have learned that God provides tools for us to use in difficult times, and that I can avail myself of those whenever I need to- there is no shame in asking for help and using tools to help myself. I'm grateful for that lesson. 

 So, my faith has been wounded. It's limping. And I think God's okay with that. After all, Israel himself walked with a God-inflicted limp.

*I want to add that I did have great support through Ben and through my friends when I told them what I was experiencing. 

Musings on Holy Saturday

Have you ever been stuck?
Stuck in a place you don't want to be?
In a place where the voices in your head are whispering "you'll always be stuck here. Nothing will ever change, and you'll never survive 40 years of this. or 40 days. or 40 minutes."?

I have. I get stuck in those kinds of places more often than I'd care to admit. But I know I'm not alone. You know why? Because I have imaginary friends.

Well, kindof, lol. I do have a hyperactive imagination, and so, when I meditate on Holy Saturday- the day between Jesus' death on the cross and the day he rose again, I think about the disciples and how they must have been feeling. Scared. Trapped. Devastated. Hopeless. The man they believed would fulfill all their hopes, dreams, and expectations for themselves and for their country died. On a cross, yesterday.

He's buried.

I can feel the quiet shock of terror in their hearts after the bombshell of grief exploded and turned their world upside down. I imagine them sitting still and heavy- unable to think or find motivation. Unclear about what they will do next. Where will they go? Who can they trust? Did they follow the wrong man? Clearly he cannot be the savior. How much danger are their lives in if they are identified as followers of Jesus? And a dull darkness overshadowing their brains as they struggle to concentrate on those questions but just. . . can't.

Those disciples did not remember all the prophecies about Jesus or the very words he had said to them- that he would rise again after three days. They couldn't. Honestly, I can't imagine how they survived that awful, death-shadowed Saturday.

But here's what I do know. They did survive. And Jesus rose from the dead. Things changed. They changed in a moment. And things do change, will change. I'm not going to tell you that your "Saturday"- whatever that situation is- will get better. I don't know that. Sometimes things get worse before they get better. But I do know that it will change. And while perhaps it's too much to ask that you or I believe that our situation will come to life again, perhaps we can cling to the belief that it will change. And maybe, just maybe, we can allow ourselves to risk that dangerous hope that our very own Sunday will come someday.

What Chickens are Teaching Me About Life

I am so enjoying having our chickens, and since the kids love being outside with them, I've had a lot of opportunity to observe them, and it's eye opening and convicting! Maybe I'm making too many connections here, but work with the word pictures, k?

The smallest chicken, Spot, gets picked on by the older chickens a lot. Some of this is normal for establishing pecking order, but then they broke the skin. Apparently blood attracts the other chickens and they will peck the bleeding chicken, basically, to death. Gross and disturbing!

So I've been watching Spot a lot, and letting her out of the coop during the day so she doesn't get pecked to death. In the afternoon, I let the other girls out to run for a couple hours before dark. One day, they were all obsessed watching Spot eat some leftovers I'd thrown out. The chickens were "whining" and were running back and forth and pecking the fence. Get this- the door was open behind them. They were free! But they couldn't figure that out because they were so focused on what they didn't have! I sheepishly wonder how often I'm so focused on my discontent and my envy (major personal defects!), and the door to what I want is wide open right behind me!

I've also observed that Spot really wants to be with the other chickens. One evening I relented and allowed her to sleep in the coop- her wound was doing better, and I smeared her up with petroleum jelly, hoping that the bigger birds wouldn't bother it. Nope, they picked at her again even worse than before- but she still wanted to be with them! I wonder what I am hanging out with that's "picking me to pieces"? I don't think there's any people that are bad for me; I'm thinking more about habits- ahem, facebook?

Finally,  I've been watching Spot run around, acting like everything is fine- eating, scratching, running around, hanging out with the other chickens- and she has a gaping hole in the back of her head! Do you do that? Do you act like everything is fine when you have a gaping wound in your head? . . . or your heart? Oh, that's just me? good, then I'm glad I've been hiding it.

Life Changes in a Moment

Life's disappointments are veiled love's appointments. ~Rev C.A. Fox

 

My child, I have a message for you today; let me whisper it in your ear. . . this thing is from Me. ~Laura A Barter Snow 

 

"There are some graces which would never have been discovered if it were not for the trials." ~Streams in the Desert 

I posted the last quote above on January 6th on facebook. It was a "grab the nearest book and quote the 2nd sentence from x page" things. As soon as I read it, I felt that it would be prophetic, and I think it has proved to be so.

Last week I went to the ER because I was bleeding too much from a miscarriage. I passed out and seized in the ER waiting room. I had two ivs and lots of fluids and a blood transfusion and a manual dnc. This is my second miscarriage in 6 months- the other one was much earlier in the pregnancy.

The hospital stay was hard. I prayed and thought a lot while I lay in that hospital bed. I prayed about how I knew the Lord was with me even though I couldn't feel his presence and even though he wasn't answering my prayers the way I wanted. (One of my #1 verses for comfort is from Hebrews 13:5-6. "Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee nor forsake thee. So that we may boldly say, The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me.")

 I wanted to be comfortable. I wanted to sleep. I wanted never to go to the hospital at all. God reminded me that He loves me in ways that I do not love myself. I want the easy road, the comfort, the convenience, the path of least resistance, even though I know from experience that challenges grow me and make me stronger, better, more compassionate, more empathetic, wiser, and draw me closer to Him. God loves me enough to put me through hard things that I would not, or even could not, choose for myself. God wants the best for me. It's a mystery to me how this experience can be what's best, but I rest in the knowledge that He will work to make it so. I chose Streams in the Desert for one of my daily readers this year, and it has so many amazing reminders of God's faithfulness in the midst of trials. Some of them I'm not sure I'm on board with the theological implications if taken to the extreme, but many of them are encouraging nonetheless. I'm including a few of the quotes that have encouraged me over the past week or so.

"The very fact of our trial proves that there is something in us very precious to the Lord else He would not spend so much time and pains on us." February 16th.

February 8th in Streams in the Desert 
 (the first thing I read when I came home from the hospital)

Lo, I am with you all the appointed days. Mt. 28:20

Do not look forward to the changes and chances of this life in fear. Rather look at them in full hope that, as they arise, God, whose you are, will deliver you out of them. He has kept you hitherto; do you but hold fast to His dear  hand, and He will lead you safely through all things; and when you cannot stand, He will bear you in His arms. Do not look forward to what may happen tomorrow. The same everlasting Father who cares for you today will take care of you tomorrow, and every day. Either He will shield you from suffering, or He will give you unfailing strength to bear it. Be at peace, then, put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations.
~Frances De Sales
 Every time I read this, I mentally change "He will give you unfailing strength to bear it" to "He will be strong in my weakness".

I don't want to give the impression that I've got all the faith over here and that this isn't hard. I am sad. I am grieving these babies. I'm fearful about what this means our family will be. I'm angry that I was sick for 10 weeks and that we will probably spend as much on a traumatic ER trip as we would have spent to have a baby. I never want to be on an iv again. Ever.

I also feel a little bit of guilt. Not having another baby right now makes everything. . . simpler. Not necessarily better, just easier. I have to remind myself that's a fact, not something that I should feel guilty for feeling or thinking. I did want this baby, and recognizing that having a baby is hard and life changing does not mean that I didn't. Guilt is such a hard thing to deal with. As soon as I knew I was miscarrying, I immediately felt like it was somehow my fault. I had used a sinus spray the night before, and frantically started researching to find out if it was linked to miscarriages. Yikes! that's Satan's work right there, ya'll.

I'm starting to ramble, so I will wrap up. I'm doing well. I'm recovering rapidly. I got blood drawn today and my levels are going the right direction. I'm at peace about losing the baby. I'm trusting that God will fill that hole in His own way. I don't think I need anything- our church family at Midtown has done an awesome job helping with childcare, meals, and flowers. I just wanted to share this with anyone interested because 1. this feels like a big life event that I want my friends to know about (and I selfishly don't want to have to drop it on a conversation when someone asks what's been up with me) 2. I don't want others to suffer through this alone. I am hearing more stories about women who have had similar experiences. I think we need to talk about this. I had no idea what was normal bleeding for a miscarriage because no one has talked about it. I want to talk about it. (by my estimate, I lost between 2 and 4 pints the first day- that's not normal, apparently). 3. I don't want to be asked when we're having more kids or if we are. That's out of our control.

Gratitude List:

I am so thankful for Ben. He encouraged me to call the midwives back when they were taking a long time getting back to me. If he hadn't, I probably would have passed out at home. I am also so thankful that he was by my side- calm and collected the whole time. I remember hearing him repeat my symptoms to the trauma team in the ER when I was too weak and distracted to communicate- I think they asked him because I was keeping my eyes clenched shut! He also stayed with me in the hospital the whole time and helped with a variety of things. When we came home, he continued to be such a servant to the kids and I in so many ways!

Many thanks to Emily Humbert and the other ladies I texted who were willing to drop everything at a moment's notice when I said I needed to go to the ER- also for offering to put in the iv for me at home, lol!

Thanks to Jonathan Nash for spending the night with the kids and for coming over in the middle of the night when we went back to the ER :(.

Thanks to Shanna Kraii, Susie Nash, Matt and Catherine Singleton, Adrienne Pettersson, and the Humberts for all taking turns watching the kids and taking them out of the house so that I could rest. Did I forget anyone?

Thanks to all the people who have brought us food! The Nasheltons, the Wegners, the Kraiis, the Garretts, the Gants, the Jones, the Sundars, Valerie, and the Guileys and a few more to come! It's all been so delicious, and generous, and a big load off my mind!

I am thankful for my parents, especially for my mom who really, really, really wanted to come up and couldn't. They did come for a visit Saturday and brought me a desk and a chicken coop!

I am thankful for Ben's parents and other family members who offered to come and help if we needed it.

And I'm thankful for everyone who has expressed prayers, thoughts, condolences etc.

Finally, I am thankful that this happened. I know that sounds weird, but I want to learn to be thankful in all things, and I have been so blown away by all the support throughout this experience that I am thankful if for that reason alone.

Grace and Peace,
Gloria

Having a Baby vs. Running a Marathon

The thing still seemed impossible. But gradually something happened to him which had happened to him only twice before in his life. . . in both cases the thing had seemed a sheer impossibility: he had not thought but known that, being what he was, he was psychologically incapable of doing it; and then, without any apparent movement of the will, as objective and unemotional as the reading on a dial, there had arisen before him, with perfect certitude, the knowledge “about this time tomorrow you will have done the impossible.” ~ C.S. Lewis Perelandra 126

*spoiler alert* 

The Lewis quote is from when Ransom realizes that he has to kill the Un-man. This is exactly how I felt about giving birth to then-unknown Joseph: having a baby seemed impossible, but once labor started, I knew that in 24 hours, I would have a baby in my arms.                                                                        

Whenever I would tell people I’ve run a marathon (or even when I was just training for one), SO many people would say “Oh, wow! I could NEVER do that.” Until I had actually run a marathon, I didn’t really have a good response, although I suspected that in truth they probably could run a marathon- if they wanted. I’m not a good runner; I’m slow, and I’ve often been plagued by knee issues so I figured that if I could do it, so could they.

Now that I have given birth naturally and run a marathon, I just want to say to all those mothers out there who have delivered a baby without pain meds: giving birth is harder than running a marathon. Therefore, “you” could run a marathon. I’m not saying that anyone should run a marathon; just that all you ladies (and gents) should not sell yourselves short by claiming that you can’t. The actual pain of labor might not be worse than running a marathon, but giving birth was harder than running a marathon for me because  I was not in control, I didn’t know when it would be over, and because it took longer to have a baby.

One of the terrifying things about labor going into it was that I knew I would not be in control of my body. My body became a stranger to me and took over. While I know this is a natural process, it still freaked me out a little bit to be completely ignorant of what my body might do. In The Old Man and the Sea, Santiago talks about his left hand being a traitor because it cramps when he needs it. I guess I felt a little bit like that.  Also, since I was not in control, there was nothing I could do to alleviate or stop pain. While running a marathon, there is always the option to stop, walk, slow down or even quit. There are no options in labor- not even quitting. *

Another way I struggled with not being in control was the “unknown” factor. I’m a very goal oriented person, so not knowing how long the labor would be or how bad it would get was a challenge for me. Obviously, the goal was to have the baby without medical interventions, but beyond that, I had very little to focus on. If someone could have told me “you’ll have the baby in 15 hours,” I would have been able to cope with the challenges of labor better. But, no one can predict those things, and I dreaded the possibility that the labor might drag on and on and on.

As I’ve entered a world of actually understanding labor and delivery terminology, I’m realizing the length of time one is actually “in labor” is extremely subjective. Some people count it from the first contraction, other people from a certain level of dilation, others from when the water breaks etc. I’m not sure I really care because for most people, it’s a long time! The hospital staff calculated that my labor was about 8 hours, but I felt like I was in labor for more like 12 or 16 hours! (because I was having steady contractions for that long.) My marathon was on trail and therefore longer than average- over 5 hours! (embarrassing. . .). Needless to say, labor- calculated as long or short- was a lot longer than my marathon.

Oh, and now that I’ve gained some distance from delivery, I would also say that labor and delivery takes a LOT longer to recover from. I played frisbee the evening of my marathon. I probably could not have walked to the car the same day as delivery. (In addition, I also experienced post-partum preeclampsia and had to return to the hospital for several days. I know that I could not have walked to the car after that- I had lost so much muscle! To the point that I had lost 35 of the 40 pounds I gained during pregnancy. Marathons don’t do that to ya!)

Now, this is not a motivational blog to inspire people to do marathons instead of have kids (my dad would kill me if he thought I were doing that ;).

Will I have more kids? Hopefully!

Will I run another marathon? Maybe.

I want to encourage you to go for your goals and not sell yourself short by saying that you can’t or could never do something. There are a lot of things in my life that I, as a teenager, never thought I would do. I’ve always been (still am) terrified of heights, yet I enjoy rock climbing, rappelling and even rappelling into caves (Natural Well on Monte Sano is a freaky rappel and ascension!). I’ve even done a couloir and climbed a couple 14ers. Turns out, I had to grow up a little to start doing hard and dangerous stuff, and I'm still learning and have ton more to learn about facing my fears.  The point is, if you want to try to reach your goals- try it! And stop wasting time saying you can’t.

They don't give you anything this adorable just for running a marathon.
 I do think the food's better after a marathon though. 

*some people may point out that there are opt-out options for delivery such as pain meds, epidural etc. I don't have anything morally against those, but there was not way I was going to use them, especially the epidural- needle yikes! I did have one "medical intervention" though: I let them break my water after I'd been at the hospital about 8 hours. I did not want my water broken to induce labor, but I'm glad I let them do it at that point in my labor (I think I was 4 cm or something like that).