Christmas // Baby // Birth

“Holy infant, so tender and mild”

This year, we had a baby during the month of December, which automatically qualifies him for the “Christmas baby” classification. With a Christmas baby there are so many questions about the parallels between him and The Christmas Baby, Jesus. 

Do you have some inkling of what Mary may have felt? Does your baby just remind you of the Savior of the world? Can you relate to the awe and wonder? 

I can’t imagine having a perfect child. My children are not perfect, but I love them exponentially more than I ever imagined loving someone. I love all their quirks and imperfections. I can’t imagine bearing the Savior of the world. I can’t imagine being full term and riding on a donkey. I can’t imagine giving birth on a pile of straw. I can’t imagine being in labor in a stable. I can’t imagine the amount of discomfort and pain she went through. 

I know about the long journey before giving birth. I know about the long journey to a new place with an infant. I know about the shame of being pregnant outside of marriage. I know the discomfort of a birth outside of the expected plan. I know medication free childbirth. I know virtually intervention free childbirth. I know motherhood. 

With my newest child, I had such anticipation for his birth. For weeks I nested, cleaning and organizing every shelf and drawer in my house. I made lists in preparation for passing off the baton of cooking and cleaning during the few days or weeks following the birth when I physically couldn’t do every chore. I packed a bag for the baby and a bag for me. I prepared. Yet, when the moment came I felt utterly unprepared. There were dishes still in the sink and there was a load of laundry in the dryer. The boys’ toys and clothes were scattered around the house and the dining room needed a thorough sweeping and mopping. 

I felt the first contraction at 11:30 pm. I was binge watching a show on Netflix and finished the episode before deciding that this was labor and waking my husband. We hurried through the last minute preparations and eventually arrived at the hospital at 1:30. They were true contractions I could feel the muscle tension radiate from my lower back up to the top of my womb, where it held for a few moments before gently pushing its way downward. I didn’t know at the time that I was having back labor because he was sunny side up. When we arrived at the hospital, I was having contractions every two minutes with the height of the contraction lasting about 20 seconds. But as a walked into labor and delivery and talked through my contractions, I was skeptical as were the nurses of the progression of my labor. The put me in Triage to assess my labor. I watched the contractions come and go and heard the nurses whisper about my lack of pain, which to them meant a lack of progression. After 20 minutes or so, the nurse told me I was no further dilated than I was on Monday at my doctor appointment. So we waited. Another 20 minutes passed with very little progress. The nurse began talking of having me walk around for an hour and coming back. After almost three hours of painless labor, I began to feel pain in my contractions. The crippling, bring me to my knees, quit and give up, deep breaths and grimacing pain began quickly lasting almost a whole minute before abating. Though painful, they did have a more subtle start than the Pictocin induced contractions of my first. Though intense, my active labor was not as long as the my second. The nurse came to check on me again, to see me rocking on my hands and knees on the gurney in Triage. I had gone from mild discomfort and cramping to full blown active labor in a mater of minutes. I was twice as dilated (about 6cm) as I was at 2:20 when she had last checked on me. She turned to go prepare me for admission and in the minute that she left the room, my labor became a scene out of Alien. My water burst and the baby became fully engaged. The nurse quickly returned to the room and I told her I needed to push. She began to rush me out. We made it to the threshold before I begged to push. I was immediately wheeled back behind the curtain of my room in triage and told not to push. He was facing up instead of down, Sunny Side Up, so they didn’t want me to push. But he was ready, so three contractions later, our third baby boy was lying on my chest. 

On the ride home from the hospital, my husband asked a false hypothetical of choosing between him and the baby in labor. Who would you choose? The innocent child or your beloved? Most of us would choose the child. I am in awe of God’s love for us, his beloved, because he chose us over his only son, a piece of himself. There are so many ways I relate to Mary, but the love story isn’t about a mother and child. The love story is about a father who gives up his son for his love, humanity. I can’t relate. I can’t imagine love that great. This is the love I am reminded of at Christmas. This is the love that my little baby reminds me of because as I hold this innocent little boy, I can’t imagine choosing anything over his safety and well-being. This Christmas as I hold my December baby, I can’t imagine not choosing my sons. Yet, God chose us in our sinful flaws over his perfect son.