I spoke with someone very wise this week about what it means to set healthy boundaries and allow others to make choices for themselves. I really struggle watching loved ones make poor choices when I have done everything to help direct them in the right way. Sometimes we can teach, preach, lecture, model, guide and counsel those closest to us toward the right path, only to watch them choose the wrong one. It can be discouraging and frustrating.
This wise friend brought up the story of the rich young ruler. The young man asked Jesus what good he could do to have eternal life. Jesus answered that to receive eternal life; this ruler must follow the commandments and give all he owned to the poor. (Jesus knew this man's heart was more dedicated to his wealth than the heart of God) Matthew 19:22 says, "When the young man heard this, he went away sad, because he had great wealth." The interesting thing my friend pointed out is that Jesus did not chase after him, trying to persuade him to change his mind. He did not coerce or control the outcome, despite knowing the ruler’s choice was wrong. He let the ruler choose and reap the consequences of that choice.
I think as people - parents, friends, children - are often uncomfortable allowing God to be God, so we step in with our high and mighty Messiah complexes, trying to fix our families and friends. We entangle ourselves in the choices of others and often assume responsibility for burdens that are not ours to carry. We have poor relational boundaries this way. We think our excessive and obsessive "care" and entanglement in the choices of our loved ones mirrors Christ. Given the story of the young ruler, however, Jesus did not act this way at all.
Jesus loved by allowing the freedom of choice to remain in the hands of the individual. He taught, preached, lectured, modeled, guided and counseled while permitting free-will.
I think Jesus grieved the decision of the young ruler and the many others who rejected Him as Messiah, but he did not chase after them and force His will or His message upon them. Instead, He trusted the heart of the Father and knew that not all would believe.
Sometimes the best conviction is to allow the choices of another to come full circle. Sin does not go hidden and consequence-free for very long. We call it tough love and healthy boundaries. I think Jesus would have just called it the way of the cross. Matthew 7:13-14 says, Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life and only a few find it. We can teach, preach, lecture, model, guide and counsel those close to us toward the right path, but, in the end, every person must choose for themselves whom they will serve and what path they will tred.
I'm trying to set better boundaries!
Friday, February 19, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Midwifery Decisions
I am pregnant. I am four months along and have chosen to manage my pregnancy, labor and delivery with midwives at The Midwife Center for Birth and Women's Health in Pittsburgh, PA. Since it seems I must explain and often defend my decision to go this route, I wanted to explain my rational in detail here.
I can imagine most everyone’s surprise at my decision to go to midwives. My sister, who has done almost everything before me – cut Barbie’s hair, shave her legs, use a curling iron, get married and have babies – delivered her two beautiful children at The Midwife Center. I have to be honest and say, I thought she was NUTS! Before and after her first child’s birth, I was pretty against any delivery that was not in a hospital. I couldn’t imagine birth without drugs and didn’t want to even consider any other options. Keep in mind though, I hadn’t read anything about pregnancy, labor or delivery either. Nor was I in a place in my life where these things required any research.
Fast forward two years. I was engaged to my husband and my sister was pregnant with her second baby. I had recently gotten into a little tiff with my gynecologist of three years because she would not spend time with me to discuss some cervical concerns I had from a previous procedure. She was always rude to me and I just never really liked her that much. Since I cannot stand male gynecologists, I knew I needed to find a new practice soon since neither my soon to be husband nor I wanted to wait very long to get pregnant. Ha!
It was around that time that my sister and I were shopping for some items for my wedding and decided to combine our trip to the flower-girls ballerina store with one of her visits to the midwives, that my eyes were opened. She was in for one of her 7month check-ups. I was really impressed with the relationship the midwife had with her and the time she took just hanging out with my sister and gaining her trust. It seemed so different than my gynecological experiences, and since I moved around so much, I had had many gynecologists over the years. The midwife actually cared and didn’t seem bothered by the time the appointment took.
I was really overwhelmed with a sense of “home” after that visit so I decided I would switch my care to the midwives, since I greatly disliked my OBGYN anyway. When I first found out I was pregnant with the baby we lost, I decided I wanted to stay with the midwives but deliver in a hospital. It seemed the best of both worlds. I could have drugs but also nice midwives to care for me. But then we miscarried. My cervix dilated, the uterus contracted, and we lost the baby. The pain was horrible but something interesting happened in those intense hours of expelling. My body took over and found tolerable positions. I breathed through each contraction, even the medicine induced contractions, and I got through it. Hopelessness and all. There was no pot of gold at the end of that pain, no baby to make it worth it, only disappointment and grief. But I still made it through.
After talking with one of the midwives, she explained that everything I went through, all the meds I had to take to make me contract, felt a lot like childbirth. (minus the pushing and crowning…which I know is really hard!) I’m not comparing it as if they are the same but in a lot of ways, I feel like I got a taste of childbirth those hard days and I woke up to the power and beauty and pain that women are capable of managing, naturally.
It was then that I started to think about the kind of atmosphere I really wanted when we got pregnant again. Did I want any of the local hospitals with their technology and policies and 40-some% ci-section rates or did I want a more family-friendly environment that had a proven track record of safety and low interventions? And the real question, did I want medication or did I want to do it naturally? After much discussion and thinking, I came to a personal conclusion that while I am NOT a hippy/I will never use pain meds sort of person, I AM the sort of person who has a strong will when I choose to do something. I realized that the reason I always wanted to deliver in a hospital was because I was afraid that I couldn’t handle the pain. It was about fear, not about a love for my baby or even for my own body. As someone who does not want to be controlled by fear, but instead love, I decided to read more about natural childbirth. “Perfect love casts out all fear.”
Since I had already gotten a taste of childbirth, minus the baby and including deep sorrow, I decided then and there that I wanted to try to deliver naturally. I had a new respect for my body as a woman and a faith in my ability to withstand pain for the love of a baby. Hope and resolution of will are profound tools! And the fact remains, it IS healthier for the baby to remain drug-free. It IS a better recovery for the mother to deliver drug-free. It’s unarguably better to deliver naturally, unless something goes wrong. Naturally, if something does go wrong or the baby doesn’t turn I will deliver in the hospital, probably with drugs and still be happy if the baby is healthy. I’m NOT saying I can brave it ALL but I am saying, I’d really like to try.
I know there are many differing viewpoints on this subject. I know you many people have pre-conceived ideas about midwives but I think those are people who haven’t experienced the loving care of a midwife, haven’t done honest research and are afraid. I read Your Best Birth and watched The Business of Being Born by Ricky Lake and Abby Epstein recently and it truly confirmed my stand on this issue. It is my intention to go this route, despite the seeming negativity that surrounds the decision.
I can imagine most everyone’s surprise at my decision to go to midwives. My sister, who has done almost everything before me – cut Barbie’s hair, shave her legs, use a curling iron, get married and have babies – delivered her two beautiful children at The Midwife Center. I have to be honest and say, I thought she was NUTS! Before and after her first child’s birth, I was pretty against any delivery that was not in a hospital. I couldn’t imagine birth without drugs and didn’t want to even consider any other options. Keep in mind though, I hadn’t read anything about pregnancy, labor or delivery either. Nor was I in a place in my life where these things required any research.
Fast forward two years. I was engaged to my husband and my sister was pregnant with her second baby. I had recently gotten into a little tiff with my gynecologist of three years because she would not spend time with me to discuss some cervical concerns I had from a previous procedure. She was always rude to me and I just never really liked her that much. Since I cannot stand male gynecologists, I knew I needed to find a new practice soon since neither my soon to be husband nor I wanted to wait very long to get pregnant. Ha!
It was around that time that my sister and I were shopping for some items for my wedding and decided to combine our trip to the flower-girls ballerina store with one of her visits to the midwives, that my eyes were opened. She was in for one of her 7month check-ups. I was really impressed with the relationship the midwife had with her and the time she took just hanging out with my sister and gaining her trust. It seemed so different than my gynecological experiences, and since I moved around so much, I had had many gynecologists over the years. The midwife actually cared and didn’t seem bothered by the time the appointment took.
I was really overwhelmed with a sense of “home” after that visit so I decided I would switch my care to the midwives, since I greatly disliked my OBGYN anyway. When I first found out I was pregnant with the baby we lost, I decided I wanted to stay with the midwives but deliver in a hospital. It seemed the best of both worlds. I could have drugs but also nice midwives to care for me. But then we miscarried. My cervix dilated, the uterus contracted, and we lost the baby. The pain was horrible but something interesting happened in those intense hours of expelling. My body took over and found tolerable positions. I breathed through each contraction, even the medicine induced contractions, and I got through it. Hopelessness and all. There was no pot of gold at the end of that pain, no baby to make it worth it, only disappointment and grief. But I still made it through.
After talking with one of the midwives, she explained that everything I went through, all the meds I had to take to make me contract, felt a lot like childbirth. (minus the pushing and crowning…which I know is really hard!) I’m not comparing it as if they are the same but in a lot of ways, I feel like I got a taste of childbirth those hard days and I woke up to the power and beauty and pain that women are capable of managing, naturally.
It was then that I started to think about the kind of atmosphere I really wanted when we got pregnant again. Did I want any of the local hospitals with their technology and policies and 40-some% ci-section rates or did I want a more family-friendly environment that had a proven track record of safety and low interventions? And the real question, did I want medication or did I want to do it naturally? After much discussion and thinking, I came to a personal conclusion that while I am NOT a hippy/I will never use pain meds sort of person, I AM the sort of person who has a strong will when I choose to do something. I realized that the reason I always wanted to deliver in a hospital was because I was afraid that I couldn’t handle the pain. It was about fear, not about a love for my baby or even for my own body. As someone who does not want to be controlled by fear, but instead love, I decided to read more about natural childbirth. “Perfect love casts out all fear.”
Since I had already gotten a taste of childbirth, minus the baby and including deep sorrow, I decided then and there that I wanted to try to deliver naturally. I had a new respect for my body as a woman and a faith in my ability to withstand pain for the love of a baby. Hope and resolution of will are profound tools! And the fact remains, it IS healthier for the baby to remain drug-free. It IS a better recovery for the mother to deliver drug-free. It’s unarguably better to deliver naturally, unless something goes wrong. Naturally, if something does go wrong or the baby doesn’t turn I will deliver in the hospital, probably with drugs and still be happy if the baby is healthy. I’m NOT saying I can brave it ALL but I am saying, I’d really like to try.
I know there are many differing viewpoints on this subject. I know you many people have pre-conceived ideas about midwives but I think those are people who haven’t experienced the loving care of a midwife, haven’t done honest research and are afraid. I read Your Best Birth and watched The Business of Being Born by Ricky Lake and Abby Epstein recently and it truly confirmed my stand on this issue. It is my intention to go this route, despite the seeming negativity that surrounds the decision.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Asking Too Much
I haven't posted in a year.
I feel like that needs to be said in a whiny..."dear diary, i'm sorry for neglecting you" voice that I used to have when I was an awkward 12 year old writing in my diary about my crushes and my mean mommy that wouldn't let me wear bright red lipstick on my first day of 7th grade. I guess I feel neglectful; my whining above will have to suffice as penance.
It's been an interesting year. My husband and I bought a house. We're homeowners. And we got pregnant, had a miscarriage, and 62 seconds later got pregnant again. I'm four months along and doing well, minus the tri-weekly vomiting and the constant nausea. I could go on and on about the pregnancy symptoms no one ever mentions when you're a blushing, bright eyed, hopeful bride ready to go off birth control. But I'll save that for another day.
I guess I just wanted to say that today, today I'm lonely. A lot more than a house and a soon to come baby happened this year. In some ways, my husband and I grew up a little since last February. Together we've braved some intense relational storms that have left us closer to each other but distinctly distant to several very close individuals we have been deep friends with for years. Life has a way of changing relationships, and marriage has a way of becoming indirectly isolating. While marriage is like always being on a team, the game can get sort of confusing. And pregnancy, well, that has a way of ensuring that isolation in ways I never predicted or could have prepared for.
I don't think it's all bad and neither do I think this isolation is unhealthy. Two becoming one flesh and then creating life is heavy in the areas of responsibility and mystery and beauty and depth and weight. It's impossible to remain unchanged in the midst of that intensity. But I find myself surrounded by friends who can't quite relate. They're all single and childless. It's not that bridges have been burned, it's just that it takes many more bridges to relate than it used to. That goes both ways.
Needless to say, this loneliness, this isolation, goes both ways. They don't know what to say about my painfully swollen baby boobs and I don't get invited out anymore because the bars they go to are smokey. Mostly I'm fine with that. But today, I miss friends. I miss laughing at stupid things over a few glasses of cheap wine. I miss investing in something other than work, work, sleep, and my growing ass.
I am happily married and happily pregnant. I guess I just want the perfect trinity... I want to be happily social too.
Am I asking too much?
I feel like that needs to be said in a whiny..."dear diary, i'm sorry for neglecting you" voice that I used to have when I was an awkward 12 year old writing in my diary about my crushes and my mean mommy that wouldn't let me wear bright red lipstick on my first day of 7th grade. I guess I feel neglectful; my whining above will have to suffice as penance.
It's been an interesting year. My husband and I bought a house. We're homeowners. And we got pregnant, had a miscarriage, and 62 seconds later got pregnant again. I'm four months along and doing well, minus the tri-weekly vomiting and the constant nausea. I could go on and on about the pregnancy symptoms no one ever mentions when you're a blushing, bright eyed, hopeful bride ready to go off birth control. But I'll save that for another day.
I guess I just wanted to say that today, today I'm lonely. A lot more than a house and a soon to come baby happened this year. In some ways, my husband and I grew up a little since last February. Together we've braved some intense relational storms that have left us closer to each other but distinctly distant to several very close individuals we have been deep friends with for years. Life has a way of changing relationships, and marriage has a way of becoming indirectly isolating. While marriage is like always being on a team, the game can get sort of confusing. And pregnancy, well, that has a way of ensuring that isolation in ways I never predicted or could have prepared for.
I don't think it's all bad and neither do I think this isolation is unhealthy. Two becoming one flesh and then creating life is heavy in the areas of responsibility and mystery and beauty and depth and weight. It's impossible to remain unchanged in the midst of that intensity. But I find myself surrounded by friends who can't quite relate. They're all single and childless. It's not that bridges have been burned, it's just that it takes many more bridges to relate than it used to. That goes both ways.
Needless to say, this loneliness, this isolation, goes both ways. They don't know what to say about my painfully swollen baby boobs and I don't get invited out anymore because the bars they go to are smokey. Mostly I'm fine with that. But today, I miss friends. I miss laughing at stupid things over a few glasses of cheap wine. I miss investing in something other than work, work, sleep, and my growing ass.
I am happily married and happily pregnant. I guess I just want the perfect trinity... I want to be happily social too.
Am I asking too much?
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