Category: Emotions

Laboring, Together

Posted on by Chel

Last month, my husband and I welcomed our second precious little baby boy into the world! And while this experience is impossible to fully capture in words, something I can say is that it has led me to marvel once again at the beauty and power of relationship, and of being present in relationship—with others, as well as ultimately with God. It also has led me to rejoice anew in the hope of the Gospel.

I had a grueling and somewhat traumatizing first labor, although thankfully both my first baby as well as I ended up being okay in the end. Yet after this experience, “horrifying” was the main word that came to mind, unbidden, whenever I thought of labor. And even though I dearly wanted to have another baby, as soon as I discovered I was pregnant for the second time, I began having nightmares about having to give birth. During my first labor, my experience of intense pain led me to panic, struggle for control, fight against the pain, and turn inward—which left me feeling alone and overwhelmed even though my husband, my doula, and my nurses were all in the room to support me. Although I was present physically, emotionally I was completely alone and checked out. As I learned from processing with my husband and doula later on, they said they too felt I was unreachable, and that they felt helpless to help me in my pain as I was turned so far inward in spite of them wanting to be with me.

As my husband and I, along with our doula, processed our first birth experience and looked toward our second, we thought a lot about what we appreciated about our first experience as well as what we hoped would be different the second time around. And the main two words we came to were “present” and “trusting”. We hoped and prayed that we could have an experience in which we were more present with one another and in our experience—rather than fearful—and more trusting of one another, our support team, in the process itself, and ultimately the LORD.

 Practically, there were certain exercises I practiced to help me work through some of the trauma and reactivity I felt regarding labor, including praying, talking with my husband and trusted friends to process various aspects of my experience, using the Gentle Birth program to practice mindfulness and breathing exercises and some hypnotherapy exercises, and journaling. But mostly preparing for a labor where I and my husband hoped we could be more present looked like me, as well as him, trying to be more intentional in our everyday lives in being vulnerable, present, and trusting in our relationships and our ensuing emotions. We tried to be intentional in these ways our relationships with each other, with family and friends, in our relationship with God, even in our relationship with ourselves. And as we prepared and invited more people into our experience, while we were still afraid at times, we also found that we were slowly but surely moving towards feeling more connected and hopeful—more present and trusting.

And when the long-anticipated day of labor finally came, my husband and I felt the LORD’s presence with us in such a special way even as we were present with one another, our doula, and the support staff at the hospital. While of course there were many moments of pain and difficulty, the pain and the difficulty felt “okay” instead of “horrifying” because I did not feel alone. When the pain came, instead of turning inward, I tried to invite others into my experience as well as to respond to their offers of reaching to me, helping me, and sitting with me in that space. My husband stayed with me, offering his steady and encouraging and comforting presence through the highs and lows, and we felt all the more connected in our love for one another for going through this special experience together. My doula stayed with me, offering her reassuring, comforting, and competent presence as she helped me continue on even when it felt so hard. The nurses and doctors stayed with me, offering encouragement and well as the ability to practically care for the well-being of me and my baby.

Staying present with my husband and with the rest of my support team, as well as staying present in my own emotional experience, felt incredibly vulnerable—it is hard to imagine a more physically and emotionally messy and vulnerable time of life than labor. I was tempted many times to slip back into my typical response of trying to take control and turn inward, and even moved toward this space at times. But I am so grateful my husband and support team stayed with me, beckoning me back even in these hard moments, and that overall by God’s grace I was able to respond to their invitations to presence. And the connection that came out of being present and trusting was so beautiful and richly rewarding, and made the experience of labor and delivery all the more profound and joyful. As my husband and doula and support team sat with me in my distress and proved able to hold my experience, they also rejoiced with me when the long-awaited moment of baby’s entry into the world came. What a sweet moment birth finally was, a moment that was all the sweeter for being shared amidst all of us that were in the room!

I am convinced that as is the case with so much of earthly life, my experience of relationship in labor is a small reflection of many aspects of the Gospel. During labor, my husband and my doula offered me unconditional love and presence, as well as the ability and willingness to hold my emotions and experience. Even when—in both an emotional as well as a literal physical sense—I was weak, and needy, and messy, and completely vulnerable, they never failed to stay with me. Instead of leaving me alone, or telling me to clean up or get it together, or to rely on my own strength, they entered into my experience and sat with me until labor was complete, I delivered my dear baby, and gradually I began to recover. I am unspeakably grateful, humbled, and filled with love as I think of the grace, love, and help my husband and doula extended to me even in this most tender of moments.

The power of relationship that I experience in labor provides me with a beautiful, tangible glimpse of the unconditional love and grace that God extends to us in Jesus by the power of his Holy Spirit: He invites us into relationship with him, through the cleansing work of Jesus on the cross and by the ongoing presence of the Holy Spirit. Though we were spiritually entangled and dirtied in our sin, helpless to save ourselves apart from him—as messy and as unloveable and needy as we could possibly be—he entered into relationship with us, cleansed us, welcomed us into new life, adopted us as his very sons and daughters (e.g., Eph. 1-2). And he continues to offer his presence to us in the person of the Holy Spirit (e.g., Jn. 14:16-17, 26-27); he is a God who is near (e.g., Phil. 4:5), who comforts us (e.g., 2 Cor. 1:3-4), who saves us (e.g., Jn. 3:16-17). Because he is with us, we can remain true and faithful until he returns (e.g., 1 Cor. 1:4, 7-9). And someday, once Jesus does return and make all things right, we will be perfectly in relationship with him, all sorrow will have passed, and we will rejoice with Jesus and with one another (e.g., Rev. 21:5, 22:1-5). We are not alone, and never will be. If, as I experienced in labor, relationship with fellow humans is so powerful and life-changing, even to the point of making the seemingly unbearable bearable, how much more profound is relationship with the one true God?

How thankful I am for presence and trust in relationships—relationship with loved ones, and ultimately relationship with the LORD.

*My husband and I are infinitely grateful for our doula, whose presence with us in labor made all the difference in the world!

Letting Go

Posted on by Chel

I have been experiencing situations in life recently – including navigating my husband’s work transitions, progressing through pregnancy, contemplating impending labor, mourning the illness of an extended family member, journeying in my ongoing role of mothering – that continue to remind me that I have such a hard time letting go, especially letting go of control. It is so hard for me to let go of my emotions, to let go of my plans or efforts to bring about a certain outcome, to let go of people I love.

I think that my difficulty with letting go is closely linked to fear; if I am being honest with myself, I am afraid: Afraid of letting myself be vulnerable in truly feeling the depth of my emotions in all their messiness (and letting others see me feeling these emotions), afraid of acknowledging (and feeling the reality of) the heartache of not being able to ensure the earthly wellbeing of all those I love, afraid of things falling apart if I don’t actively hold them together, afraid of the choices loved ones will make if I don’t micromanage them, afraid of the unknown, afraid that I won’t be able to bear what I feel or experience if I let go. I am afraid of acknowledging my desperate fragility, my weakness, the uncertainty of this early life, and my utter inability to actually hold all things together. I’m afraid to be alone in what I feel and fear, and yet I also am afraid to let others into this experience.

There is a part of me that wants to always be in control, and yet deep down I realize that control is only an illusion – only God is truly in control. And while I know ultimately it is far better that he is in control, I feel so vulnerable when faced with the prospect of letting go. And my fear makes me want to cling all the more tightly to this illusion of control, even though doing so can often be isolating, exhausting, painful, soul-crushing, and ultimately futile.

I wonder if the only way to truly practice letting go of control is to trust – to practice trusting Jesus, loved ones, and even myself. Trusting feels so vulnerable and hard, and yet when those in whom I place my trust prove to indeed be trustworthy, I know it also can be so profoundly connecting, revitalizing, healing, life-giving, and hope-inducing.

I feel I need to daily be reminded of the gospel, including that ultimately the most trustworthy Someone in whom I can place my trust is Jesus. Jesus is perfectly faithful and trustworthy, and not only this – he actually is the source of all life and continues to hold all things together! Who better to trust in and simultaneously practice letting go with – or rather, handing over to – than Jesus? He actually can hold all things together, and will even someday make all things right, even if life includes experiences of pain. Surely it is far better that he is in control than I. And I hope that continually practicing placing my trust in Jesus will give me courage to continue to also practice trusting other loved ones instead of holding so tightly to my own individual experiences – which I suppose is a small testimony to Jesus’ supremacy and of the reconciliation and closeness of relationship that is made possible through him.

115 The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. 16 For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. 17 He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. 18 And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. 19 For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, 20 and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.

Colossians 1:15-20 (NIV)

Anger

Posted on by Chel

Lately I have been thinking a bit about anger and its relationship to fear and control. My toddler now clearly feels and expresses a whole range of emotions, and does so in such a visible and visceral manner. This is beautiful and refreshing in its own way, and leads to many sweet moments of such tangible joy and laughter and wonder. And yet, as a little person, he of course also feels emotions such as sadness and anger. I notice that his anger, often times expressed through hitting or throwing, can at times feel like a crisis to me. This can seem like a crisis not because Bubsy experiences anger (which is a healthy part of being human), but because it elicits in me a sense of fear and need to control.

A wise person in my life said something to the effect that many difficulties in parenting arise when we parent out of fear of the future rather than in response to the current situation. I certainly see this being true for me, as while Bubsy’s hitting makes me sad and sometimes even physically hurts me or others a little bit, the true difficulty for me is that I can slip into a place of fearing for his future – What if he gets labelled as “bad” or a “bully” by others because of how he sometimes hits, and this prevents him from making friends? What if his hitting gets worse and worse as he gets bigger? What if my husband and I are “bad” parents because we don’t respond in the “right” way? What even is the “right” way to respond? What if everything spirals out of control and we fail Bubsy?

I tend to be one who internalizes what I am feeling and who initially wants to push down negative emotions, which means that often much of what I feel manifests as anxiety. Growing up I certainly had a hard time experiencing anger; I had difficulty even acknowledging that I felt anger let alone knowing what to do with it. And this is still a struggle today, although I have been working on it, along with the help of numerous wise people speaking into my life and challenging me and modeling healthy expressions of anger. Which means when my toddler so clearly feels and expresses anger, there is a part of me that is glad that he can express it and that wants to support him in learning to express it well, but there is also a part of me that really does not know how to respond and wants to just control his anger or force it to go away.

Another wise person in my life recently listened to my concerns about my toddler’s anger and affirmed that it is actually great that Bubsy is expressing himself. He encouraged me to think of this as an opportunity for me and my husband to help Bubsy learn to experience anger without resorting to either extreme of “freaking out” or “shutting down” – and in doing so, to practice this for ourselves as adults as well. This ground is rich with the possibility of learning to do something new, to break generational patterns pertaining to the experience of and expression of anger – and in doing so to catch small glimpses of the Kingdom now as by God’s grace relationship with Jesus makes it possible to change even longstanding patterns.

I used to think that all anger is “bad”, but today my understanding is beginning to go something like this: Anger is a sign that something is wrong, but that something can be nuanced and identifying it often takes some reflection. What is wrong may fall in the category of: (1) I am doing something wrong (e.g., I am being sinful in an interaction and am hurting someone else; perhaps I am being selfish or judgmental or entitled or controlling, etc.); (2) someone else is doing something hurtful (e.g., their own sin is coming in to play and they have done something to hurt me); (3) something is wrong in the world (as the world is impacted by the Fall, there are countless painful things that now happen even though they were not originally meant to); or (4) any combination of the above.

If this is truly the case, then acknowledging anger provides opportunities for responding in adaptive and even helpful ways – for adults, this might mean having loving yet honest conversations with those involved pertaining to issues contributing to anger and seeking resolution (which can actually strengthen relationships!), praying and repenting when needed, making changes in situations contributing to anger, acknowledging the reality of sin and brokenness and bringing this to Jesus, learning to make space for emotions without having to act directly out of them, and so on. For a toddler, this might mean finding words to express what is wrong, asking for help in identifying the problem and offering responses, learning to use coping skills, beginning to practice skills pertaining to sharing and being flexible, and more. Anger does not need to be a “scary” or “dangerous”, and even can be a helpful indicator that change is needed or that we need to practice relating to others or the world in new ways.

And this is a much more hopeful and much less fear-based response to anger. Instead of needing to control my toddler’s anger, I can lean into it and view it as an opportunity for growth and change and trusting in Jesus – both for Bubsy as well as for me and my husband. Even though this growth is hard, I am thankful for this opportunity to experience something new, and am hopeful that by God’s grace he can use even this to make me and those I love more like Jesus.