A birth story

One of many infamous summer trips, 1999, when Bekah was four and Hannah was eight

It seems like only yesterday we were laughing over Hannah turning 8 on June 4th and Bekah turning 4 on June 8th. Now ten years have passed, and these little girls are turning 18 on the 4th, and 14 on the 8th. And I still get their birthdays mixed up. Once a lady came up to Bekah in a supporting church and said, "I always knew there was something special about you; we share the same birthday, June 4th!" Bekah told her that she was born on the 8th, and the woman said, "No, it says here on this prayer card that your birthday is on the 4th." Oops.

Eighteen years ago we were finishing up a furlough year here in Ohio. I awoke on June 3rd despairing of ever being delivered from my longer-than-forever pregnancy (and I'm not exaggerating much!). An ultrasound had given me false hope that I was due in early May, not June, and each week I became more and more miserable. Already we had extended our furlough by a couple of months to have the baby in the U.S.

The gory details are somewhat foggy in this menopausal mind, but I know labor kicked in sometime that morning. God answered my prayer for cool weather since our apartment had no A/C (or air-con as you Philippino kids call it). My friend Fran came and took the three little boys (age 2, 4, and 5) - bless her! Our dear midwife, Freida, came to labor sit with me for another marathon. The rest is a blur.

Fran slipped in to put the boys to bed around 9:30 that night, thinking surely the baby would be born very soon. She stayed to help me through the worst, which was yet to come. Finally around 4:30 in the morning, with heroic intervention on Freida's part, Hannah finally made her appearance. By that time I had logged in close to 90 hours (cumulative) of hard labor between the four births. No one has ever accused me of having an easy time of it.

Honestly I am so thankful for the lessons God taught me through each of my home births. I am convinced that I would not have seven children today had I gone the traditional hospital route for labor and delivery. Certainly Christopher, our first, would have been delivered by c-section. The risk of infection would have been off the charts for a 43-hour labor in a hospital setting. No doctor would have allowed me to wait that long. Going to the mission field with that track record would have doomed me to other c-sections and perhaps a limit of three children. As it was, God helped me to persevere through five home births before truly needing a c-section for the last two. My reward for enduring those drug-free home births was that I was able to have a bigger family. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

If only all suffering in life had such tangible benefits.

"We also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance , character; and character, hope." Romans 5:3-4

"And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast." I Peter 5:10