Isn't it Ironic...don't you think?

Well, I have been somewhat MIA for the past nearly two months...because just as I was trying to decide whether to attack all the nasties in my back burner, life threw me another curveball.  I know, I know...I really shouldn't be surprised when considering my history with life's curveballs. 

I'm sure most of you have faced similar events where just as soon as you have figured out something that's been nagging your for awhile, make plans to tackle a big challenge, make a choice to let go of someone or something...life hits you, HARD, with something unpredictable, something that makes you change those choices, plans, or figuring.

That happened to me.  Tuesday, June 3rd.  Well, technically, June 2nd, 45 days early, I went into labor.  Granted, it took a full day to realize.  I didn't really have the time to stop and count those pesky (false, I thought) contractions when chasing and entertaining my girls.  It wasn't until they were all in bed that I had the chance to slow down enough to lay on my side, drink some juice and count contractions.  After an hour of regularly spaced, every 8-10 minutes, slightly discomforting contractions, I decided to take a bath just to make sure.  Then we went in to the hospital--around midnight.  Long story short, our son was on the way, nearly 6 weeks early. 

I wanted to simultaneously curse life, curl up and cry, and meet that sweet baby.  "This would happen to me" I thought to myself.  "Of course this would happen to me."  It's actually rather ironic, don't you think, that Tuesday was the day of my first counseling session to tackle the back burner, to face the fragility of life and my fear of it head on.  And here I was, once again, thrown into uncertainty and fear. 

And that was when I did what I seem to do best when faced with the enormity and unpredictability of life.  I let go.  Not in a "Jesus take the wheel kind of way", but in a realization that there was only so much I could control.  I did not know what would happen, how this baby would be upon birth but my worry would do nothing but stress me, him, and the whole labor process.  So, I let go.  I let go of my fears and I let go of my hopes and I just focused on the labor...the one small part that I had any ounce of control over...and kept myself calm, slept as much as I could, and shut out any thoughts that might disrupt the focus on that moment, that single process. 

I faltered in that focus the moment he was born as I waited to hear his cry.  Minutes have never lasted as long in my life as those few I've waited to hear my children cry.  There is so much love and hope, so many dreams for the future, wrapped up in that first cry, in that verification that you did, in fact, create a living, breathing human being.  Saxby Rhett Anthony was born Tuesday, June 3rd around 2:30 pm weighing almost 6 lbs and needing just a touch of oxygen from his nurses before making his first cry.

Saxby with his two oldest sisters
4 days after birth, first day out of NICU

                                                 I barely had a moment to revel in the awesomeness that is life before being reminded of it's fragility.  Saxby was good, needed some help breathing at first, but for a preemie he was doing great.  I, on the other hand, was struck with increasingly intense pain in my side.  The doctors struggled to determine the cause and I struggled with the pain, not really dampened by the epidural, for nearly five hours.  At that point my doctor gave me two options:  continue to manage the pain or an exploratory surgery.  I chose the surgery without hesitation.

That's right, me, the one who just spent the last blog discussing her fears of another C-section and her plans to avoid one at all costs, had just chose to be opened up with no guarantee it would be worth it.

The process was again unnerving, made more so by the fact my husband could not join me this time.  I was determined to stay awake, to control that small part of my fate, whatever it may be.  I wanted to know if I would ever hold my son, if I would ever see my daughters meet him.  I wanted to know if I would be leaving that hospital on my own.  I must have been scared, but all I remember now is a strong drive to know what was wrong, to know if I would be okay.  I heard the doctors and nurses discussing what they were seeing, I heard their surprise and worry upon finding a large clot on my right ovary and tube, heard the urgency in their voices as they worked to remove it without breaking it, heard their relief upon it being safely placed in a jar and their awe as it burst immediately after.  Most of all, I heard their joy upon saving my life, upon having made the right choice.

Isn't it ironic, don't you think, that had I stuck with the fear of the fragility of life, had I not let it go, I would have refused the surgery and likely would have died.  Had I not let it go, had I fought labor and tried to hold it off, Saxby and I both would have likely died.

Isn't it ironic, don't you think, that the fear of the fragility of life almost kept me from experiencing all the joys of life.  The need to control, to hold on, almost robbed me of the few things I am able to control and hold on to.  I can only control so much, I can only choose so much...in the end, in terms of my life...I am only middle management.  Something greater, whether it's a god, fate, or just life makes the big calls and I have to manage the consequences of those calls.  I have a large hand in what occurs but trying to control more than I have the right or ability to can lead to some really dangerous and negative consequences.

Isn't it ironic that you must let go of control in order to gain control?