PB’s birthday story (part i).

I decided I would write PB’s birth story while I can still remember (most) of it (or at least the good parts). This first part is a little back story.

Prior to the BIG day, I had been to the hospital twice (neither times by my own choice). The first time was pretty early on (like 35 or so weeks) due to high blood pressure. The second time was at 38 weeks, again due to blood pressure.

Let me say this: I DESPISE going to the doctor. Really, I HATE going to the doctor. I don’t know what it is about the doctor, but as soon as I walk in the waiting room, I get sick. I could be going to the doctor with somebody else, and I still get sick. I could be delivering mail to the doctor’s office and I would still get sick. I get ‘the cramps’ as soon as I pull in the parking lot. The doctor’s office is not a good place for me. I trace this back to 1st grade and strep throat. I had strep throat 284891892 times in 1st grade, and I had to get a stinkin’ penicillin shot each time. I have NEVER recovered. The doctor’s office is my #1 fear, which would then make the hospital my #1 super-sized, don’t-ever-make-me-go-there, I-would-operate-on-myself-before-I-would-go-there, please-if-you-have-any-ounce-of-decency-don’t-take-me-there, fear. So you can imagine that having a baby, in a hospital, surrounded by doctors and nurses that give shots, was a rip-roaring good time for me.

The first time I was admitted to the hospital, I was pretty nervous. I had gone to my regular doc for a visit about my heart rate/rhythm, which had seemed to be a little out of whack during my pregnancy. I had an EKG, which was normal, but my blood pressure was 150/90, so off to the hospital they sent me. The car ride took about 14 hours I think, but by the time I made it over there, I was amazingly calm. The next time I was admitted at 38 weeks, it was the same thing with my blood pressure. Again, totally calm. I remember being upset when I was admitted those two times because I felt like my pregnancy wasn’t going the way it should and I was afraid that this would cause problems for me and PB. The day I arrived for my induction it suddenly made sense to me: God let me go to the hospital those other two times so that I would be more relaxed and comfortable, and know what to expect for the big day. Those two previous times were like trial runs, which God knew I desperately needed. To most people, this irrational fear of doctors and hospitals I have probably sounds ridiculous. But it is an incredibly real fear to me. Because I had already been twice before, I was much more relaxed for the big day. Isn’t it awesome how God knows exactly what we need?

Since I am the world’s biggest baby when it comes to docs/hospitals, I had started praying the day I found out I was pregnant for a couple of things:

1. A healthy, happy baby.
2. An uncomplicated pregnancy and delivery for PB.
3. God’s peace on delivery day, so that I could have little PB without having to be tranquilized and strapped to the bed so I wouldn’t try to run off and squat in the parking lot (not the hospital parking lot mind you; that would still make me nervous).

And the good Lord blessed me with all of those things, and more, on PB’s big birthday. It’s funny, when I look back at pictures and video the day and hours before I had PB, I’m asking myself WHO IN THE WORLD IS THAT GIRL IN THE CURSED HOSPITAL BED?!?! I want to tell that girl to get up and run out and ask her how in the world she is laying in a hospital bed and in a seemingly decent state of mind. In my irrational mind right now I’m thinking there is no way in this world that I would EVER stay in a hospital with doctors and iv’s and shots and penicillin and big needles. But I did, and I think that’s the beauty of God’s glory. He allows you to do the things that you think you cannot do. He gives you a sense of peace that you really can’t describe. In the moment when you need Him the most, He is right there. A couple of days after we got to come home with PB, I started thinking about that day. I kinda ‘freaked out’ thinking I had just given birth. It occurred to me that while I was there, I NEVER worried about PB. I didn’t worry about his health or his delivery. I didn’t worry about myself. The peace of God completely washed all of my worries away that day. I am so blessed to be a child of God. In the end, I just wanted to come home with my new little family and our new little healthy and happy baby boy. And that’s just what I did.


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