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I have never seen a woman more beautiful than when she is delivering a baby naturally.
There is something climactic about the intense joy she experiences when her baby is born. It is like an epic story, nine months long, building to a burst of intensity and suffering, and culminating in an explosion of celebration and satisfaction.
The waiting is over. She has felt this child for months now, growing, moving, kicking, pushing, turning inside her. Besides the immediate struggle of labor, for months she has surrendered her physical privacy to a hundred people with prying questions and hands eager to touch her protruding belly. She has endured a slew of physical inconveniences, severe body changes, sleepless nights, and other discomforts. Her organs have had to find new homes every few weeks, and her bikini body will never be the same. Yet through it all, the anticipation of this child is her beacon of hope and strength to persevere.
The baby arrives and her pain is over (or mostly over), and for that alone she is relieved. “Relief” doesn’t really come close to the feeling though. The exhaustion of hours of effort suddenly lifts, and like a veil torn from her face, the sweat of labor becomes a radiant glow. Her face is brilliant with delight and adoration.
My friend Heather, after the home birth of her fifth child, photo credit goes to one of her friends
I’m sure she doesn’t feel beautiful. During the throes of it she feels exhausted, perhaps out of control, maybe afraid, and at some point, like she just couldn’t go on.
But somehow she did. And this is beautiful. She is strong; she has overcome. She has struggled, and been victorious. She has trusted her God and her body to bring life into the world.
My sister Esther, after the home water-birth of her second child, photo credit Willow Grove Photography
Perhaps it is the juxtaposition of suffering and joy that create such an intense reaction. Perhaps the intensity of the climax of joy is directly related to the intensity of the pain that preceded it.
My friend Melissa W. after the home birth of her third child (HBAC - home birth after cesarean)
When a spouse or child returns home from war, family members have this same glow on their faces.
It is difficult to put my finger on, and harder still to describe. I know I have seen it when my throat knots up and my eyes start leaking at the corners.
My friend Melissa N. delivered her first baby last night, in a tub in a birthing center. She was incredible.
Immediately after the baby was born, the daze of pain hadn’t quite worn off, and the look was still breaking across her face. You can see a little bit of awe in her countenance here, less than 15 seconds after she has seen her baby for the first time.
Her birth experience was quick (3.5 hours from start to finish), but consequently intense. So it was later that joy really overtook her.
She looks more beautiful here - exhausted, makeup-less, loose unkempt hair - than she did on her wedding day eleven months ago. Not that she wasn’t beautiful and joyous then; she was.
But it’s different. Pain, sorrow, and suffering have taken bubbly spring happiness and dug a deep well of rich satisfaction and gratefulness. And peace, peace is there too.
My friend Melissa W. after the home birth of her third child
