The Sacred Slowness of Postpartum 

I walk into the hospital with my dignity intact. My body has grown a whole human, and I’m feeling strong and capable. The Lord gives me the peace and confidence for what lies ahead. I get my IV; I wait my turn. I walk myself into my own OR. I lean over while holding onto the precious nurse who has cared for me all day to get the spinal and epidural. 

I lay there with a big silly smile on my face as I begin to slowly lose all feeling from my arms down. We made it. My baby is almost here. Time for my husband to finally join me in the OR. It’s a higher-risk C-section, being my fourth, and due to all the scar tissue and adhesions I have, it will be a planned vertical incision. Even with all that, I feel like I’ve got this.

The incredible surgeon holds the scalpel, my best friend holds my hand and the Lord holds my heart and soul as our precious fourth-born takes his first breath. He cries, gets a quick once-over by the nurses, and then for the first time I get to experience skin-to-skin in the OR. I cry too- tears of overwhelming joy as I snuggle my child for the first time.

I’m stitched up, wheeled to recovery, and am quickly reminded that with the birth of my fourth son, also comes another new beginning- postpartum season. Every. Thing. Hurts. I can’t sit up on my own- let alone stand. My abdomen doesn’t work. I’m bleeding. I have gas pain in my.. shoulder? My milk comes in with a vengeance, and I wince in pain with each latch as my body gets used to this new normal.

My husband is my everything. He gets me food. He helps me stand. He cleans the blood off the floor as I walk around the hospital room. He helps me in and out of my adult diapers. He changes all the baby’s diapers, too. He gets up to hand me the baby to nurse, then gets up again to put the baby in his bassinet. He gives me my daily injections, because I can’t fathom sticking myself with a needle. I feel helpless.

I couldn’t go to my newborn son’s first pediatrician appointment.

Why? Well, because I could barely get into the car. Because I can’t lift the car seat. Because it just makes more sense for my husband to take him, since I’m not allowed to drive for two weeks- and someone needs to be home with our other children. I gave birth to our son and three days later had to part with him in between nursing sessions – missing his first appointment because of the limitations of my body.

All of that is true. I am being forced to slow down. I have spent more time on my couch the past 3.5 weeks than you could imagine.

but…

In that time I have studied my newborn son’s face. I have held him every chance I’ve gotten. I’ve smelled his head constantly. I’ve talked to him nonstop. I’ve watched my other children play and witnessed their interactions with eachother and the baby. I’ve spent so much time with my husband- watching shows and talking and laughing and snacking. We’ve had time to bond as a family of six.

This season has been so incredibly special.

We’ve witnessed friends and family show up in an incredible way. Between the prayers, meals, gifts and check-ins, we’ve felt love like never before.

I’ve had the opportunity to pray – a lot. I’ve thanked God for so many things. I’ve had so much downtime that I’ve been able to really see all of the blessings that surround me. It is also a reminder of how fortunate I am to have my health, strength and ability to move my body. I’m truly reminded daily that postpartum is a sacred season of slowness.

The newborn season is so special and fleeting- I don’t want to miss it. I’m realizing that even though I may wish for the days when I have my strength back, one day I’ll be missing this newborn season that I will never get to experience with this child again.

I’m longing for my life back… while sitting here rocking one of the most special pieces of it.

I want so badly to be productive. The Lord reminds me that raising little humans isn’t keeping me from the important work- it is the most important work. Although it may be different from how the world views productivity, what I am doing right now matters. There is nowhere I need to be right now, other than here- taking care of him.

This small human who was so content in my womb is now so content on my chest. I am his safe place. I am his comfort. The body that carried him is still the same body that nourishes him. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I want to exercise. I want to be able to lift my other children. I want to jump in the car and go places- being able to lift the car seat with my son in it into my Suburban. I want to clean my house. I want the scale to say.. way less than it does.

The time will come for all of that. As for right now, I am trying to soak up every moment of this slow season. Every time my son cries, he stops as soon as I pick him up- and that is a beautiful and underrated blessing. I am needed right now, and I am so so glad.

Thank you, Lord, for this postpartum season- for without it, I wouldn’t have him. Thank you for the healing scar on my belly, through which my son was safely brought into this world. Thank you for the forced downtime in which I could study my son’s features. Thank you for this body and the ability to grow and feed my son with it. Thank you for a husband who is so supportive of me and takes care of everything I can’t, and more.

I’m realizing some of life’s most beautiful moments happen during the difficult seasons. After all- it’s no wonder pregnancy and postpartum are so difficult… look at the outcome.

My body will heal. I will exercise again. The calendar will be busy and I’ll be able to pick up my toddler- but I will never get this time back. So for right now, I’m giving myself permission to slow down.

Postpartum is hard- yes. However, I think this slowness is just what we needed.

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