Thanks to
the influence of my mother, I don’t think there was anything I ever wanted to
be more than a homemaker. The idea of keeping a home, husband, and children
appealed to me in a way nothing else could, and I grew up with that mindset.
When I graduated from high school with no marital prospects, I went to college
mostly because I couldn’t think of anything else to do while I waited for my
husband to appear.
Thankfully,
he didn’t take long.
Shoot
forward about a year and a half. I’m engaged, long distance, and I get one of
those calls that every fiancée dreads: the “maybe we should wait” call.
Benny knew
how much I wanted a family. It was one of the first personal things I ever
shared with him. He had at least two more years of college after we married –
perhaps more, if he decided to get a higher degree – and having a family when
only one of us could work, and the
one of us working could only manage part-time, because of chronic illness,
seemed irresponsible. I was adamantly opposed to contraception, as well, so he
knew that was off the table, and suggested we should postpone our wedding until
he graduated.
Although I
understood his reasoning, I resisted the suggestion. After all, we needed some
time, I thought, to learn to live together before children, and there were ways
outside of contraception that could keep pregnancy at bay. It was hard for me
to say I would wait for two entire years. I was twenty-two at the time, and I
had hoped to start my family at eighteen. As crazy as it may sound to a
progressive ear, I felt like I had already wasted three years, and I was saying
I would give up two more. It was a huge
sacrifice – especially because I had done my research and was aware that my
chronic illness could mean I would not be able to have children for as many
years as most women; however, establishing my marriage was more important to
me, and even if it was hard, I felt it was the right decision.
Less than a
year later, we were married. I loved being married. It was a new layer of life
I hadn’t known could exist, and there was a new peace. I was designed by God
for that life, and for nearly six months, I was content to simply be Benny’s
wife. It got a lot harder when we had a pregnancy scare. I had been out of
sorts, and several people suggested to me that I might be pregnant. Although I
wasn’t convinced, I bought a test. When the negative came up, I could tell
Benny was relieved, and I was relieved for him. What would a pregnancy do to the
rest of his college career? At the same
time, I was heartbroken. I had secretly hoped I was pregnant. I got in the shower and cried for awhile, and for
quite some time I was low in spirits. Benny could tell and knew why. He was
incredibly kind and understanding, giving me space to mourn the baby I had
never carried. Although I normally wouldn’t dare to equate my feelings to that of a
woman who has suffered a miscarriage,
that was how it felt. Thankfully, I had only shared the possibility with a few
people.
It was hard
not only because I wanted a baby so badly but because there was a lot of
pressure for us to start our family. People who knew little of our situation
would suggest that we should get started pretty soon – to not wait too long –
and although we knew they weren’t trying to make things difficult, it was still
painful to hear. You can have the best intentions and still hurt people.
Almost
exactly one year later, Benny was nearing the end of his last school year.
Since the beginning of our marriage, I had had random “nightmares” about
getting pregnant before Benny graduated. By January 2014, Benny told me that if
I did get pregnant and was able to keep my job most of the pregnancy, we could
make it work. Although we still weren’t trying to have a baby, this was a huge
stress relief. As though God was testing Benny’s sincerity, less than a month
later, I was pregnant. I was absolutely unprepared and knew it. There were many
decisions we had planned to make before starting a family, and now we had to
make them relatively quickly.
One big
decision was one I had been putting off: where to have the baby. My mother had
given birth in the hospital for all her babies, and Benny’s mother had given
birth at home. When Benny told me he thought I should consider homebirths, I
thought he was crazy. It sounded dangerous and foreign. I hadn’t imagined
giving birth outside of a hospital, and I told him I wasn’t comfortable with
the idea at all but I would think
about it and do some research.
When I found
out I was pregnant, I hadn’t done any research and I hadn’t really considered
it an option. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Benny, because I knew he wouldn’t
support something without being completely comfortable with it, but I couldn’t
wrap my head around it. I read two articles with opposing points of view on the
subject – both of which were well argued but neither of which made me
comfortable with making the final decision.
Since I was
still unsure, I asked a doctor in the area to recommend a doctor and hospital
for us. I figured she would best know the system in the area, and I knew she
had similar values to us, so I felt comfortable going with whatever advice she
gave. I was surprised when she told me she thought I would be better off with a
midwife and homebirth or birth center, and she even went so far as to recommend
one. For the first time, I considered it, but I wanted to ask someone else in
the medical field. I asked my sister-in-law – a labour and delivery nurse – for
her thoughts. She, too, expressed confidence in the idea of a homebirth,
telling me upsides and downsides, what to look for in a midwife, and telling me
where I could get more information.
After
feeling like I had been assured by these people, I then asked my mother-in-law
and one of my sisters-in-law about their experiences and opinions, knowing that
they had had homebirths. Both of them stressed that I should do whatever I felt
safest doing, and they talked to me about their own research.
At this
point, I felt like I could take the extra step of actually meeting with the
midwives recommended to me. I called to make an appointment, not yet completely
assured it was what I wanted to do but sure it was a safe option, and I would be free to change my mind at any time.
When I went
in for my appointment, it was immediately clear that I wasn’t stepping into a
weird world of mantras and amulets but a place of medical business. It was
homey, certainly, but was clearly not granola or avoiding the medical aspect of
the profession. Not only this, the midwife I met with was strikingly like my
mother, and I felt safe and assured by her no-holds-barred approach and
bluntness when I asked questions. Although it had been a foreign concept to me,
and knowing I would probably get a lot of flak from people who disapproved of
my decision, I settled on a homebirth, and I never questioned my decision from
that point.
Pregnancy
was both hard and good. A lot of my fibromyalgia symptoms dissipated over the
period of the pregnancy. My morning sickness during the first trimester was
nasty, though after that I had few serious problems until the third trimester. It
was a peaceful pregnancy.
When it
finally came to the labour, choosing a homebirth sure seemed like the right
idea. It started so fast (minute long contractions, one to two minutes apart within
two hours of it starting), I’m sure I wouldn’t have wanted to travel to the
hospital. The midwives were there shortly after Benny called, letting us
quietly (well, I guess they were
quiet) labour, keeping an eye on my progress and monitoring the baby – our personal
lifeguards in case anything went awry, giving advice and encouragement. When it
was all over, I had a baby in my arms: sweet, little Eleanora.
I’m a
mother! It’s still a surprise to me, sometimes. In a way, it’s a change… but at
the same time, it feels completely natural. I’ve been preparing for it most of
my life, and holding a small child in my arms, nursing her, caring for her, was
what I was created to do. Already, I see little changes every day, and I know
it will be over sooner than I can imagine. Getting here was hard, and I know
the difficulties don’t end after labour, but I feel assured by these three
things:
God created
me for this.
My mother
prepared me for this.
My husband
supports me in this.
That’s all I
need.
