Well, it is getting real. I just made a list in my journal titled Getting Ready for Baby. Tomorrow, I hope to get into the attic and pull down all the baby things, wash the little clothes, dust off the newborn car seat, pack my hospital bag, and finalize my labor playlist. In the next couple of weeks, I hope to have the energy to do some extra cooking and put some meals in the freezer, and keep trying to establish a good routine so that when our world is sweetly upended, everyone will be able to keep doing the things that need to be done to keep a family of eleven going.
I have asked God, as honestly as I know how, if it is possible to anticipate birth with joy. To celebrate all the way through it. To not once lose sight of the joy that is and that is coming. I don’t know the answer to this question, but I feel that God has given me the invitation to try it.
I have looked at birth out of many different sets of eyes. I have seen it as something to be prepared for—through reading the right books and doing the right exercises and breathing in the right rhythms. I have seen it as the sleeping monster that woke up inside me, tried to kill me, and went back to sleep. I used to cry, after my first child was born, because I knew that if I wanted my daughter to have a brother or sister, I would have to face that monster again. I have seen birth as a healing process, when a baby moved through me and cleared a fog from my mind. I have seen it as something to live through, to survive. I have seen it as an overwhelming fear I must overcome. I have seen it as a process to surrender to, to trust God through every moment of it. I have seen birth as death, when I lost a precious little life to miscarriage. I’ve seen birth as my way of drawing nearer, still nearer to God. As the reminder that He is truly the only place I can run. I have seen birth as my battle against paralyzing dread and fear. I have seen birth as the most intimate act of worship I can offer up to Him. All of these were true, but incomplete pictures of the work God was doing in my life. Through childbirth, He has taught me depths of his love and mercy that can never be unlearned. When I am standing at the very edge of this world, He is the only one who is with me. He will never leave me. He will never forsake me. He is working out a discipline of trust and surrender in me.
I am walking into this birth as the bravest version of myself. In a few weeks, I will be holding my ninth child in my arms. The focus of my joy is the split-second after he is born, knowing that the hard work is done and this baby is in the world and in my arms and that I have lived out, thus far, the calling that I have known is on my life to bring him here. This is something to celebrate.
Thank you for being here, for witnessing my life and listening to my stories. I cannot wait to tell it from the other side of this birth. Very soon!
Sending love and hopes for celebrations great and small in each of your lives,
Mackenzie
From the Podcast:
If you’d like to hear more about my birth stories, listen to this week’s podcast episode below:
From the Family Archive:
I shared this song of Randy’s a few months ago, but wanted to end on a note of celebration today. This video features Randy on the piano, guitar, bass, congas, tambourine, and xylophone, with our daughter, Rosie on the violin and Heidi on the Irish whistle. Rosie and I are singing harmonies.
Journal With Me:
My 6-week video journaling course, Innermost Journaling: Mining the Depths of Your Sacred Everyday Life, is now available to my paid substack subscribers and Patrons.