Remembering the Birth of A Child

The start of a new year brings thoughts of new beginnings, a fresh start. For a woman, the birth of a child is somewhat similar. Certainly it brings all kind of new beginnings, the most important being the beginning of a new life. The beginning of a new relationship is also right up there. While a woman begins to develop a relationship with her child long before the delivery, the birth brings an entirely new dimension to the relationship. The experience of looking into the face of your baby for the first time is more powerful than words can possibly describe.

The "fresh start" aspect of birth is the feeling a woman has when she can actually see her feet again after months of obstructed view, thanks to a swollen belly. Being able to wear something other than the well-worn maternity clothes is a fresh start. Even if it means going back to the pre-pregnancy clothes in the closet, it's a fresh start. Easy movement and breathing is restored shortly after birth. Those two things alone give a feeling of a fresh start.

Not every woman looks back on pregnancy and childbirth with joy. Their reasons are varied, but justified. I, however, am a woman who looks back on my pregnancies with tremendous joy and satisfaction. Both deliveries were relatively easy and never required pain medication of any sort, so my thoughts about giving birth to my babies is also very positive.

Each year on my children's birthdays (once they were old enough to understand), I would tell them the story of their births. At just the right moment, I would tell them, "This is when my contractions started." "This is when we left for the hopsital." For years, they heard the story of their births. After awhile, they'd begin to roll their eyes and moan as I would begin the annual narrative. It became a joke of sorts.

As Jacob's sixteenth birthday was approaching, I decided to spare him the story. He was getting older, and I had received the teasing for a couple of years by that point, so I figured it was probably time to stop torturing him with the details. They always started the night before his birthday because my labor began around 7pm on April 20th, 1988. He was born 5 1/2 hours later on April 21st. The evening before his 16th birthday, I announced that I wouldn't bore him with the story anymore. We all laughed, and a few comments like, "Thank goodness!" were heard. A lump formed in my throat because I would miss being able to share the story.

As I walked down the hallway to my bedroom later that evening, I heard Jacob's voice call for me. He was already in bed and the lights were off in his room. I poked my head in the door to be sure I had actually heard him. Sure enough, he was sitting up in his bed. "Is everything okay?" I asked. That's when he melted my heart. "Mom, could you tell me the story about my birth again?" Here he was, a 16 year-old young man wanting to know the story of his birth from his mother. "Oh I would love to!" was my response and I walked over to sit on the end of his bed. We hugged and gave each other a goodnight kiss when I was done. "Thanks, Mom." "My pleasure, Jacob."

When I walked out of his room that night, I cried. I cried to think that all those years of telling him the story had truly been a blessing to him. He could see how much excitement I had over his entrance into this world and our lives. He could hear the love I had for him, and it made him feel special and treasured. He knew his life was a blessing to me right from the very beginning, not a burden. Jacob didn't need to know about nausea, swollen ankles, etc. He needed to know that his life brought a glow to my face that I had never before displayed. He needed to know that I was crazy in love with him from the moment the doctor told me I was pregnant. He needed to know that I viewed him as a precious gift from God that was entrusted to me, and I was honored to be chosen as his mother.

As Jacob's birthday approached nearly 7 months after his death, I ached at the thought of not being able to tell him the story. On the evening of April 20th, 2007, we were actually on the road, returning from the annual memorial service held by the university Jacob attended. The memorial service was to recognize any students, faculty or staff who had died in the past year. The event just happened to be held right before Jacob's birthday. As 7pm approached, my husband pulled off the road. He had me walk to a quiet place with him, and he said I should call Jacob's phone and tell him the story. So I did. As best I could through all the tears and sobs. It hurt so much, but it was extremely important and healing. Even now, as I type this, tears are rolling down my cheeks and I am gasping for breath. Yes, it still hurts that much, and it probably always will.

Jacob, I can't wait to tell you the story again face to face in Heaven. We will laugh so hard and hold one another. I love you son!