My oldest daughter turned eighteen years old today. It sounds trite, but it does seem like only yesterday, she was laid upon my belly, fresh from my womb, and as I lifted her to check her sex, was overjoyed to find out she was a girl. You see, I had given birth to three sons in the 9 years before her birth, two of which were delivered by Cesarean section. My second son was born vaginally in a hospital where I was given oxytocin, an IV, an episiotomy and had a neonatal team in the delivery room because there was meconium present when they broke my water.
Jasmine was born in a birth center, with no drugs, no interventions and no episiotomy. I told her that it was the happiest day of my life, a huge triumph and a delightful surprise as I never knew the sex of my babies before they were born.
I left the birth center six hours after she was born. Though I was exhausted I simply couldn't sleep the first night she was home. She, however, slept through the night--a feat she wouldn't repeat for several months after that night. I just gazed at her all night long with a heightened joy that I haven't known since that time, with the possible exception of the birth of her younger sister. I did, however give birth to Jordan by C-section, and though far from the birth I imagined, I was grateful when I learned the umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck two times.
For several years I worked part time as a childbirth educator, and Jasmine's birth, 18 years ago today was a real triumph--a vindication of sorts. Unfortunately, V-BAC's (vaginal birth after cesarean section) are rather rare now days, due to fears of litigation in the event something goes wrong.
More than the triumph of a successful delivery so many years ago is the celebration of the success of parenting a child to adulthood. I have good kids, not perfect, but good. Though I have many shortcomings as a parent I am proud of the fact that in a very real, concrete way, I was "there" for my kids. I was blessed to not have to work a full-time job, though I did, in my childrearing years put in many hours in our auction business--hours that for the most part I could choose. Of course my kids will tell you they spent many hours at our many auctions, running bid sheets, selling concessions, even from time to time, cashiering or performing other duties--especially the boys. I tried not to be overindulgent of them, and to teach them the value of money--a lesson more clearly lost on the younger ones, I admit.
As I gaze upon my now grown daughter I am overwhelmed by how beautiful she is--the same sentiment I knew when she was only a few hours old. One of my favorite things to do with my very young children was simply to sit on the floor and gaze at them, delighting in their newborn perfection and amazed that the universe still turns and teems with constantly renewing life. Each of my children is a measure of grace that seems undeserved. I am proud to call them my own, knowing full well they belong to me not, but that we all belong to the One who birthed us and delights in us eternally. My hope is that my children know this as well.
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