Presence: What I Learned From Contractions

There’s nothing harder for a fixer than to be emotionally present with someone you love someone experiencing pain as intense, natural, and unfixable as childbirth. After almost 48 hours of contractions, I was at my wits end. I had already raked my mind for every birth-coaching nugget I could remember from TV and the stories of friends. It all felt paltry and shallow.

Believe it or not, saying, “breathe baby. Just breathe,” over and over doesn’t go over so well in real life! You can’t promise that the pain will end soon. It won’t. When I tried giving her space, she felt alone. It felt patronizing to keep saying, “you’re amazing, you’ve so got this, you can do it!” Even when I soothed, “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she assured me, “It’s NOT okay!”

The only thing that seemed to help was when I stood next to her during every contraction, holding her hand and simply saying, “I’m here. I’m with you.” That’s what we did for the better part of yesterday. It felt like the kindest thing I could do under the circumstances.

But the labor has been traumatic so far. I’ve never seen pain like it and by the time we finally opted for an epidural last night, I was crying and nearly blacking out from the stress.

Me after 48 hours. Yoiks!

We have a “short list” of people we can text day or night and I did... One wrote back, “I feel so helpless.” And the sentiment was nice. I felt helpless too. But the best thing she did for us throughout those 48 hours was just being present, saying, “I’m here. I’m with you guys.”

Again, it got me thinking about the way God interacts with people in pain. He could be like the rude young anesthetist last night poking, prodding, and eventually numbing the pain. Instead, he chooses to be more like the kind midwife, putting a hand on our shoulder, looking us in the eyes, monitoring and guiding the process gently, but mostly just being there, assuring us that we’re not alone.

Something I’m learning is that God’s presence is the best gift possible. I get so focused on the fear of pain and failure. But happiness and success aren’t the point. God is. Not in some heady, esoteric way, but in a real nuts-and-bolts way.

Since I got back from Ghana, everything in my life has felt different: permeated by a sense of purpose, expectancy, awe, and a hearty does of pain... Kind of like being pregnant! I’m aware of God’s mysterious and breathtaking beauty in the intricate cogs of my life (everything from the Fulani to my music to living in Georgia). I’m also aware of His intimate and personal presence. That feeling of being caught up in something bigger than me, yet being known and loved by a present and personal God... it delivers tremendous comfort and peace.

At the same time, I’ve been staring down the gullet of my life’s deepest hurts through an emotional healing group I lead every week. And unlike before, it’s not that scary. Excruciating. But not scary. I feel the weight of grief more closely than before. But I’m really comfortable with that feeling because I also carry this sense that God is with me. Not fixing, not even carrying the burden, just walking next to me saying “I’m here. I’m with you.” And right now, that’s more than enough.

PS- After the trauma of the epidural last night, we both collapsed and slept from 1-6:30. Debra’s labor is now progressing more swiftly... and she’s having the best sleep of her life. I’m at Starbucks, excited to meet little Juniper Joy Harkness and experience the beauty of her life in contrast to the crappiness of the last couple days. It feels like the last couple days have been a dying wilderness... ushering in a new season of life with Juniper. Stay tuned!

PPS- more on the name "Juniper Joy" here!