When the doctor told me my son’s life might be in danger, I didn’t have to think about my next step.
A nurse came in and put an oxygen mask over my face to keep me from hyperventilating and I motioned for my husband to sign the consent form. Natural childbirth wasn’t an option.
Even though I hadn’t met my son face to face, his life was worth the risk. The features of his face were still a mystery and I hadn’t heard his first cry, but I knew him.
I knew his heartbeat. I knew he got the hiccups every night around 6:00 pm.
Seconds later, the anesthesiologist appeared to pump me full of more drugs and they wheeled me to the OR. The fifteen minutes that passed between prepping me for surgery and hearing him for the first time seemed like an eternity. I remember feeling them pull him out of me and then, the cry didn’t come.
My heart dropped. Was everything okay?
All of a sudden, the sound filled the room. His cry was strong and loud, and for a moment, everything seemed right with the world. My husband brought him over to me, and I was frustrated that my arms were still too numb to hold him.
I spent the next year fumbling through the darkness of postpartum depression, but God brought me back to this moment as a reminder.
When I grappled to find an identity deeper than my roles of wife and mom, I recalled those minutes of panic mixed with certainty. You see, I never questioned my son’s worth. It was instilled in me from the moment I knew there was new life inside of me. But I did question my own worth.
Are you a woman who knows what her life is worth? Today I’m honored to be sharing more on this topic over at More Than Yourself…
