By Dianna Hobbs
After we had our first baby in 1999, I vowed that our little girl, Kyla, would be our last. Labor and delivery was grueling and lasted much longer than I
had hoped. By the time my doctor said, “Congratulations Mrs. Hobbs. It’s a girl!” I literally could not see.
Everything had gone black in the hospital room. I was still struggling to catch my breath, even with the help of an oxygen mask. All the pain and pushing
wore my body down.
I had never faced as difficult an ordeal in all my days.
For a moment, before I mustered the strength to bear down and give birth, the doctors thought I would have to have a Caesarean section. You see, both my
heart rate and the baby’s had dropped so low, they were worried. She was in distress, as was I, and it appeared pretty unlikely that I would successfully
deliver on my own.
To add to the drama, the umbilical cord was wrapped around Kyla’s neck, which can be very dangerous, because it can potentially cut off the baby’s oxygen.
I recall the urgency I heard in the obstetrician’s voice when he told me, “Alright Mrs. Hobbs. This is the last time. If you cannot push the baby out,
we’re going to have to suction her out or do something else. We need to get her out of there.”
The sound of the heartbeat got slower and slower. I was frightened, but I was also doing the best I could. As the monitor reminded me with every dragging
pulsation that our baby was slipping away, I panicked inwardly.
Finally, the doctor ordered the nurse to turn the volume down so I could no longer hear it.
I had already been pushing for nearly two hours.
This was nothing like the movies! Why wasn’t it working?
Kenya and I had been dutiful about faithfully going to Lamaze classes, which were designed to prepare the both of us for what to expect.
Ha!
I was not ready.
But yet, I had to dig deep, even when I thought I had nothing left in me, in order to push that baby out. Once I was clear about the gravity of the
situation, I forgot about being tired, weak and worn out. Somehow, someway, by the grace of God, I summoned the strength and will to push again.
Kenya told me I had been fairly quiet up until that point, but when I gave that final push, I let out the loudest scream and gave it all I had.
Whew!
When I heard Kyla crying, I knew we had made it through.
Though it was glorious to hold our first baby, the suffering lingered in my mind for a while. I was determined never to feel that pain again.
I remember people would jokingly tell me, “You have to have another one! The Bible says ‘Be fruitful and multiply.’”
I would reply sarcastically, “Yeah, we did multiply: one times one equals one.”
Clearly, the fact that my husband and I share 4 children tells you I didn’t keep my promise to stop at the first.
The reward turned out to be much greater than the pain.
And so it will be in your life, spiritually speaking.
I know that giving birth to what God said is not always an easy process. You carry those dreams, visions and hopes inside you. And still, despite pushing,
struggling and doing your best to dig in your heels, and stick with it until the end, you don’t get any movement…at first.
For a while, you feel like you’re losing more and more strength by the minute. The way you thought things would turn out, greatly differs from the reality
of your circumstance.
But today, hear the voice of the Lord. He’s saying, “Don’t give up. Push that baby out.”
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