The last few weeks there has been an abundance of babies entering the world and I have read a couple of birth stories on different blogs (like my new favorite blog and my friend Katie). I never know what the purpose of this blog is, really, but I may be slowly finding a niche. Well, at least a niche in my head. (Wow, and that is a scary thought.)
I have always loved listening to mothers share birth stories. I love the fact that my own mother drove herself in a big pickup truck to get her hair cut AFTER her water broke when she was in labor with me. I giggle when I hear her tell about my brother entering the world and the doctor saying, "Well, his water works." It was so much fun to be close by for the birth of my second brother. It really STINKS that I walked out of the room just moments before my sister was born. It is precious that I was my mom's labor coach for my youngest brother.
The really amazing reality for me is that I now, PERSONALLY, have TWO birth stories of my own. I have been pregnant twice, labored twice and delivered twice. I am still amateur compared to most women, but when I think about having another baby (and YES, I already think about it) there is something exciting for me about going through it all again.
I loved being pregnant. I loved learning about how they were developing. I loved talking, reading and singing to them in the womb. I loved dreaming about who they would be. I loved bringing these two boys into the world. I enjoyed going through labor (ok, most of it). I loved holding them in my arms for the first time. Yet, there is one thing I have not enjoyed when it comes to pregnancy, labor, delivery and even parenting.
Comparison and competition among women.
It. drives. me. crazy.
I hesitate to share my birth stories with most women in my generation. The times I do talk about it some people say certain things that become very frustrating to me. I want people to share in my joy and listen instead of giving all sorts of reasons as to why my story is somehow unique. I want to be able to share why I did or did not do certain things without others having to defend their own story.
So I will share. Soon.
Until then, I will nurse my precious two month old, play with my seventeen month old and remember with joy the days the Lord placed them into my arms!