It’s one of those things you joke about until you really need it. The Lamaze breathing. Whoo-whoo-whee-whee. A pattern of quick, short breaths with long ones at intervals that is supposed to help a mother through childbirth. Really, it’s just a way to make you concentrate on something other than utter pain. I’m not a nurse, but that’s my take on it.
Only I didn’t need it with my daughter because she was – and still is, by the way – on her very own time schedule. Always. Sister doesn’t rush for anything. Hurrying parents, angry stares, snide remarks all fall to the ground in a useless heap as time ticks by and she moves at her own pace. She just doesn’t care. Kendall is her own woman on her own timeline.
And Baby Kendall was too. Thirty-three hours of labor, Pitocin-induced mega-contractions included, and still nothing. Now that I know her, it all makes sense. She didn’t feel like coming out that way. She wanted to make her own way. Her own entrance. And so she did – a C-section later.
So I didn’t use our Lamaze friend so much during labor. Maybe a little. But I have found that motherhood itself calls for a lot of Lamaze moments. Like taking your newborn out for the first time in the freezing cold and trying to figure out how to unfold the gigantic contraption called a travel system for the first time.
A little Lamaze breathing, a few prayers, a hormonal tear or two, and the fancy stroller went back into the trunk, while I lugged the carseat and screaming baby in the store all by myself – only to discover that it didn’t fit right in the front part of the shopping cart, so I had to take up the whole back of the cart with the carseat. Oh, well – less room to buy stuff I shouldn’t be buying anyway. And life went on.
Another shout out to Lamaze moments: losing teeth. No, not mine. Hers. Kendall’s first two teeth fell out – graciously! – on their own. One came out when she let out a big laugh while watching a movie, the next came out in her towel after she sang praise songs at the top of her lungs in the shower.
Well, her front two teeth were a bit more stubborn. Loose, yes. But crooked, sticking straight out, painful to look at. Refusing to come out. And Matt and I simply couldn’t find it within ourselves to pull them. This one in particular. So we got to that point where Kendall sat on her bed and pulled her own tooth – she did this twice.
She was comfortable with this, as she was in control of the pain and the pace of what was happening. I was comfortable with this because my role was to sit on the ground and hold up a tissue to catch the blood that was gushing out. Oh, and also to do a little Lamaze breathing.
And then, her first sleepover. Oh, she was fine, but me? I was a mess. A little Lamaze breathing as she packed her overnight bag, excited as could be. A little more as we dropped her off at her friend’s house and drove away.
And the teen years – I haven’t even scratched the surface of this, and already I’m reminding myself to breathe. Breathe in, breathe out. Pray. Breathe in, breathe out. Pray.
These growing pains, these transitions, are hard on a mom. And prayers, Lamaze breathing, and a little humor go a long way. Also, just knowing that these little ones and not-so-little ones grew right under our hearts and came into this world as the best parts of ourselves. Literally, gifts from heaven from a loving God Who knows what it is to hurt for a child. To bleed for our loved ones going through tough times.
I am currently reading through the book of Judges in the Old Testament, and if it weren’t so very real it would almost be funny to watch the cycle of the Israelites. It’s so predictable when we see it written down, when we aren’t the ones going through it at that very moment. (Though we do still go through a similar cycle as we, too, make mistakes, repent, and return to God.)
And what struck me this morning is what a loving Father God is to His people. I know He made a covenant with them, and He is faithful to that covenant. So that’s why He keeps forgiving, keeps taking them back, keeps fighting for them against their enemies. But as I traverse the depths of parental love in my own life, I feel like the picture of God as Father is so clear throughout Scripture.
Honestly? It makes sense to me. I have no experience being a father, but I am a mother. And that has forever altered the way I understand love. So when I read Judges 11:10-16, I get it.
So Israel has continued on this cycle of idolatry, enslavement, crying out to the Lord, and God delivering them. And this is just the latest incident:
And the people of Israel cried out to the Lord, saying, “We have sinned against you, because we have forsaken our God and have served the Baals.”
And the Lord said to the people of Israel, “Did I not save you from the Egyptians and from the Amorites, from the Ammonites and from the Philistines? The Sidonians also, and the Amalekites and the Moabites oppressed you, and you cried out to me, and I saved you out of their hand. Yet you have forsaken me and served other gods; therefore I will save you no more. Go and cry out to the gods whom you have chosen; let them save you in the time of your distress.”
And the people of Israel said to the Lord, “We have sinned; do to us whatever seems good to you. Only please deliver us this day.” So they put away the foreign gods from among them and served the Lord, and he became impatient over the misery of Israel.
Reading this before I became a mother was a completely different experience for me. I wondered why God would take His people back (other than Him keeping covenant, which I know is key). I cheered when He told them to let the idols they were currently serving help them out of their current situation. Let them learn the hard way, I thought. They deserve it.
But grace? Unconditional love? A heart that truly bleeds more when others hurt than itself? That I didn’t fully grasp until I became a mother. A parent. Now? I get this. I know how it feels to fight for my child in a way I have never fought for myself. I know how it feels to pour my life into hers, to fill her up with everything she needs for a healthy childhood, and a good foundation for adulthood. And it makes me appreciate my parents and my grandparents and really all other good parents.
For motherhood and fatherhood are high callings. Hard callings. And to do it well (not perfectly, of course, but well) is quite the accomplishment. I’m so thankful we have a Heavenly Father who does know how to parent well, and we can lean on Him as we navigate these rocky (but also wonderful) waters. He is strong, yet gentle. Majestic, yet humble. May He teach us what it means to have the heart of a father.
I am reminded of the lyrics by Matt Redman to Wonderful Maker (sung by Chris Tomlin and Jeremy Camp, among others):
You spread out the skies over empty space
Said “let there be light”
Into a dark and formless world your light was born
You spread out your arms over empty hearts
Said “let there be light”
Into a dark and hopeless world your son was born
You made the world and saw that it was good
You sent your only Son for you are good
What a wonderful Maker
What a wonderful Savior
How majestic your whispers
And how humble your love
With a strength like no other
And the heart of a Father
How majestic your whispers
What a wonderful God
No eye has fully seen, how beautiful the cross
And we have only heard
The faintest whispers of how great you are
Recent Comments