The other day, I started having contractions. Not like the fake ones. None of that Braxton business. Not that those aren’t completely ludicrous as well. But these guys, these were the real ones.
They were somewhat expected. Because of the steroids administered to increase fetal lung development. Right before they plunged the first dose into the soft part of my side, they essentially read me my rights.
We had already discussed it at length.
The whole kitten caboodle.
The pros, the cons, the why nots, the what-ifs, the buts…
And we elected to go ahead with the recommendation of our very competent, concerned doc and his nurses, paired with the thoughts from our midwife.
Because with all of the things we probably can’t begin to know about what is going on inside my belly, of all of the ways that technology can not be spot on, the one thing we do know is that while we want the Beeb to be in it, it may not be able to for the entire 40 weeks.
Heck, we’re on a week by week plan right now.
But as history has proven… as women have been bearing babes successfully for hundreds of thousands of millions of years, on the very possible flipside, I could be laying here, blogging with a bun in the oven in 5 weeks time. Because as our doc and we agree, the belly is the best place for the Beeb to grow. And that, my friends, is the way the yummy, crumbly delicious Christmas cookie crumbles.
So. Steroids. After we made the choice, they wanted to remind me again … I could experience cramping. And contractions. And feel a little bit like I’d been hit by a truck.
I think I must have forgotten. I’ve only experienced them during labor in the past. None of this practice stuff. And I guess, I kind of shoved the feeling to the back of my mind.
I mean, you think while in labor, I could never forget this because THIS sucks. But I think you do.
This is where I am supposed to say it wasn’t as painful as I remembered. But that… that would make me a huge liarface. Because I was feeling all sorts of pain. But it was different pain. And about that, I am not being a liarface. I cannot say enough times … when I was in labor with Barrett, I clung to that bedrail, I think I saw the white lights and called for Jesus {okay… perhaps a little dramatic}. But with Jonah, it was like I sort of knew what to do. And yet again, as soon as they began on Monday, I became acutely in tuned to each one that followed. And again, it was sort of like I knew what to do. And that was actually calming. To know.
I actually went right where I knew.
I closed my eyes.
I bent my legs.
I rocked them back and forth.
I hummed a little. And I breathed.
Deeeeeeeeeep breaths.
And as I held my eyes closed, careful not to pinch them tight, so as not to let my mind go out of focus, I pictured the ocean.
The ocean.
I pictured the picture. Of our boys. The one that is ingrained on my mind from summers’ travels to Anna Maria Island. A small spot of paradise nestled on the Gulf Coast of Florida.
And the beach.
The beach was pristine. The first night we stepped foot on the white sand that had not seen a rain-washing for many days, it actually felt like a mix between fresh snow and talcum powder. Like it was inviting you to bathe in it.
And the water.
I expected a murkier ocean scene. But it was an eerily transparent, blue hue that I still can’t find anything to replicate. It almost felt untouched. And if I really focus, when I think of the picture, I think I can still hear the waves.
And it provides an all-encompassing calm. When I put it all together.
And just like that… the wave of the contractions washed away into the sand. Truly.
They just washed. a w a y.
I think that sometimes, it can all seem overwhelming. Or bigger than us. Whatever it is. Because, well, it all is. Or even just a moment of time can seem like the largest moment to have ever graced the earth. And in that moment, I think we have to find our place. We have to go that place we know. To find our calm.
And for that current moment, I had to focus on a mantra, so to speak…
which for that space in time…
was
BREATHE. JUST BREATHE.
So I suppose, if I were crafting one of those adorable Keep Calm posters, mine for that moment would have said “Keep Calm and Breathe On”.
Clearly, I didn’t come up with this. It’s nothing new or inventive. But it’s something I sometimes forget. To find that moment. To breathe. And to go that place, that is my calm.
And just let it all, wash a w a y.
Because it will. It will wash away. And if we’re lucky, we live through it. Which, in the way of contractions, seems like a given.
But what about things of greater measure? Things so much bigger than contractions. When those big waves hit, what is your ocean? What gets you through greater hurt or stress or pain? {Things that I am just selfishly happy to not even have dealt with in my life, to date.} With the Holiday season here, I think it can feel harder than ever to find that place… To find your “peace” as our Pastor recently preached about. But I think there are ways to get there. How do you find your center? Fill in the blank for you… Keep Calm and _____ on!
