I woke up today and knew that it would be the perfect day to write my birth story. My physical and mental memory were still so strong after only a few days... I didn't want to forget the feeling of being in that moment before I tried to write it down.
So I approached the keyboard, skimmed my blog feed before beginning... and there it was... Ann Voskamp writing and reaching to draw the guts right out of my soul in a letter penned to woman in labor. As I read 7 Ways to Deliver Your Best Life
, I knew it was just another moment of perfect grace in my week of labor and delivery. My life
of labor and delivery. She writes...
You don’t get to make up most of your story. You get to make peace with it.
You don’t get to demand your life, like a given. You get to receive your life, like a gift.
This is how you labor through a life, how you make it grace.
And when at some point today, Kate, when they hand your child to you for the first time and you hold that swaddled bundle and kiss that little forehead smelling like fresh heaven, but this is the thing and what the headlines forget: the delivery never stops.
The moment the delivery of a child stops — is the moment when everything starts to go wrong.
That’s what deliver means: “hand over, give, give up, yield.” Once you start delivering a child, just keep on: Keep delivering, handing over, yielding the child to God.
This is how you birth beauty in the midst of the messy. (more here...)
Then I browsed further and realized that she was writing to the Kate... the royal Kate. The Kate whose little one has been so eagerly anticipated by a nation and the world and who is laboring today. And I cried for her and prayed for her during this time of trial and joy.
The great gift of my own labor experience this time around was the prayerful silence. Blessed quiet and obscurity. I wouldn't trade it for any royal title. And all I can think is ... Please leave that poor woman in peace. Let her breathe. Let her struggle and labor and birth and wonder and cry and laugh... in the sanctity of silence.
Her story will be written today and I will hold mine close to my heart for one more day. Both Ann Voskamp and the duchess have reminded me of the pleasure and treasure of this gift of time and stillness. I love the feeling of these great and mysterious graces that have engulfed my life this week. Always transformation. Always conversion.
And if I utterly fail to capture the wonder and joy of the gift of this birth experience in words... then I will at least have another day to let it live untarnished in my heart. I will write tomorrow. Today, I will rest and nurse my baby. I will keep checking the news to find out about Kate's beautiful child. I will pray for the all the children who have been born into unwantedness. The ones no one waits to photograph or kiss... and the mothers who will never know the unspeakable sweetness of the lives they throw away.