Chapter 10 – Transcendence…

     First there was this—and then there was that—right from the beginning. She truly didn’t feel that she could do this—make a healthy baby inside of her body, and have it come out alive. Every different sensation she experienced was a cause for deep concern. “I’m afraid. Something is wrong; I just know it. I feel funny. I think my baby is moving too little…too much…" Week after week, she fretted, and she limped along. “What do you think? What should I do?” 

     She threw up a lot during her pregnancy—said it was her nerves. She’d get so depleted that she would go and see her Doctor and have him give her an IV to tank her up. I started having her come see me every two weeks, then every week; she needed constant handholding.

     My God, I worried…where would she ever find the inner strength and confidence to get this baby born? She was someone who easily gave up her power to other people. “You do it…I can’t.”

     When she went into labor she tiptoed carefully into the birth room like it was mined for explosives. I held my breath. Things went pretty well until she was about four centimeters. Then it started…”Help me. Do something. Help me.” She would shuffle up and down the hallway, dragging her feet like she was being led to the gallows. Her lower lip would quiver, as she sucked in air and whimpered like a little kitten. “Oh dear,” I thought. “What to do here? She is in a death spiral, and her contractions are not even very strong or close together.”

     She shuffled along like this for hours without any change in her progress. At times like these I was at a loss. Do I, “There, there, her” with my soft voice and reassuring manner?” Do I get tough and have her “Get a grip.” Somehow, neither of these options struck me as being optimal strategies.

     I had an idea… “Carol,” I said, “I’m going away for thirty minutes. When I return I want you to tell me what you want to do. We can do whatever you like. Would you like to go to the hospital? Do you want some drugs? A C-Section? Do you want to stay in the birth room to have your baby? Anything is possible, but you need to decide.” Then I slowly left the room and went downstairs.

     Good grief. What have I done? She hadn’t made a conscious decision during her entire pregnancy. I nervously stared at the clock like it was a bomb ticking. After a half hour I went upstairs.

     “So…” I said, clearing my throat, “Do you have a plan?” “YES.” she shouted, glaring at me, nails shooting out of her eyes. “Aha…and…?” “Well, I’m going to bed. I’m tired and I want to go to bed!” She had puffed up a little, seeming rather pleased with her decision.

     “OK—she wants to go to bed. Great idea,” I agreed. She started organizing everyone. Ordered me to go sit in the lazy boy. Had the nurse stretch out on the floor, and asked her husband to curl up with her in bed. I put the footrest up and leaned back, both ears wide open.

     It was quiet at first. Then I heard the shift in her breathing that comes when a woman’s body is miraculously opening. The pitch dropped lower and lower. She began to moan. I quietly moved to the bedside. Within an hour she was pushing, sitting cradled in her husband’s lap.

     She reached down to feel the baby’s head as he was emerging. “Oh my God. There’s a baby there. It’s coming out. I DID IT. I DID IT ALL BY MYSELF!” She wept and laughed. Tears flooded my face. This was epic. She had come into this birth almost like a helpless child, and ended up a mighty conqueror, victorious— overcoming an inner demon that had paralyzed her most of her life… In addition to a baby, sometimes the outcome of birth is also transcendence.