There is a reason we have medication for pain. That's because it hurts.
When my dear friend asked me to be her coach for the birth of her first baby, I was flattered and honored and accepted on the spot. I'd had three kids, including twins, after all....how hard could it be? Later, when she told me she wanted to do it au naturale, I was a little more skeptical about my experience.
My first daughter was born under the calm, reasonable conditions of an epidural. My second pregnancy was twins, and I didn't have a choice - Midwives wouldn't take me, and every OB I called asked, "When would you like to schedule your C-section?" I settled for the doctor that required a mandatory epidural and birth in the operating room, just in case. Sadly, the anesthesiologist was a little busy when I finally asked for said epidural. I made it through transition and was in the operating room ready to push when he kindly showed up to administer a spinal - the only option at that point. According to procedure, I had to have either an epidural or a spinal in the event an emergency C-section was necessary for baby #1 or baby #2. Let me tell ya, there's nothing like straddling a gurney, your body wracked with the worst pain ever imaginable, and being asked to hold still while someone puts a needle in your back. Strangely, since then I've often thought I might like to have another baby without drugs, just because I had been so close to doing it naturally before.
After going through it with J last week, though, I can honestly say I no longer need that experience. The pain I witnessed in my good friend during her labor was unbearable. Much harder for her, I'm sure, but it was enough to make me recommend the pain meds to every expectant mother from that point forward.
But I probably won't. And here's why...
J's willingness to endure the pain of childbirth allowed for some incredibly amazing experiences to occur, not the least of which was the immeasurable counter moment of joy when J finally held her baby to her chest for the very first time. The change in J was not unlike the dramatic change I witnessed when my grandmother died - the body has a way of releasing life that transcends understanding unless you see it first-hand.
What was truly transformative, though, are two key moments during J's labor, when her pain was clearly the gateway to something more powerful...
The first was when J was in the jacuzzi tub, trying unsuccessfully to relieve the contractions she felt so strongly in her back. J's friend, Mary, and I were on either side of her, holding her arms and coaxing her through each wave of pain. The nurse had gone out to find a stool or towels or something - I don't remember now - but that might have been the first time we were alone with J since active labor had begun. Mary and I began praying for J, and all of a sudden, it was so clear that J, through her pain, was being given an opportunity to let go of her past life and all the times she had been told she wasn't strong enough, wasn't good enough, wasn't capable of handling what life dished out. Through her strength, she was entering into a new destiny being written for her, a sacred passage into a life of freedom to be who she was called to be - not because of the pain itself, but because she was willing to endure it.
And then, after another hour or more of that pain, she didn't have the strength to endure it anymore. She thought she was ready to push, but she was still at 8 cm, and the doctor suspected the baby was posterior. J just wanted the baby out, didn't want anyone to touch her, and she started crying every time another contraction came on...
This time, we asked J to pray with us, to articulate her trust in God's strength now that hers was gone. I remember lying down on the floor next to her afterward, in between contractions, and we revisited the "episode goal" cheerfully identified by her and her nurses 16 hours earlier. It was, very simply, "Have a baby." J was wimpering and asking for help to just get the baby out. I checked with the nurse to see if there was anything else we could try... She reluctantly suggested that meds might her help body relax enough to be ready for the baby to come.
So, I asked her, "Jess, what's more important? To have this baby, or to have this baby without pain meds?" That's when she willingly surrendered, and we called for the anesthesiologist. Half an hour later, J gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, without the assistance of any pain medication. Darn those anesthesiologists who don't get there in time!
Sometimes, we're expected to endure pain to demonstrate how strong we are. Other times, we're asked to surrender our strength and our will to a power greater than ours, even if in the end, we still get exactly what we were striving so hard to achieve all on our own. Life happens when we learn when to stay strong and when it's time to surrender.
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