Failure
I am sure all of us have experienced failure in one form or another over the span of our livetime. Maybe it was failing to complete a grade, pass a class, or finish school. Maybe it was a failed business, or worse yet, hanging onto a failing business without a business plan, grasping wildly at ideas for products and services that float through your desperate thoughts with only a client or customer here and there who's income doesn't come close to paying the expenses. Those failures are often a result of failed planning and focus.

My failure is that of giving birth to my sons. I know many would argue that a cesarean section, in whatever form it may be presented, is not a failure and some would even argue that it is a success - through avoiding the ardure of childbirth. But for me it was failure, completely and utterly so. At no time in either my husbands or my ancestral history had a cesarean been performed to bring forth a child. Mine was the first. I had an almost nieve trust in birth having grown up on a farm where birth was normal and complications very rare as we were taught very young not to interfere with the process because interruption of any sort would increase risks. I also believed from these experiences that an assisted birth, and especially a cesarean, were used only in high risk situations and that it would forever mark that mother for risks in future births.

Fast forward to my first birth, I am in early labour... most likely prodomal labour caused by the stress of my grandparents home being broken into the night before and supporting them which left me dehydrated as I focused on their needs instead of mine. I had never seen a normal labour pattern in human or animal longer than 24 hours - and completely ignored the birth stories that were oft-told of long labours and less than great outcomes because I was sure it wouldn't happen to me. I assumed my labour would be straightforward as my mothers had been and her mother before her. Yet upon entering the hospital I never felt comfortable and felt as if I was continually watched while my requests for my doctors presence went unheeded for many hours. Without progression, he finally did grace us with his presence and broke my water, something that is never done unless a calf or other babe is born en caul and unable to break it to breathe. Contractions worsened, pain increased and still no progression. Again my doctor came and instead of support he gave us a verdict, I "needed" a cesarean. Nevermind that my baby was healthy and that I had barely started dilation, it was nearing 5 pm on a Friday evening and he had better things to do than laboursit a primip. To add fuel to the fire, it was deemed emergent so I was placed under general anesthesia to bring forth my first born son.

My second labour progressed much better, I felt prepared yet still very much more anxious given the post trauma stress I relived while in labour again. Yet my secondborn, precious babe that he was, chose to present brow first and thanks to another amniotomy, was unable to correct his position. Cesarean number two was performed while I was awake and watching the entire procedure from first incision to suture with the assistance of the reflection in the overhead lights. Very healing in my being able to watch him come forth from my body, yet the surgery reinforced my feelings of failure.

Supported by two midwives, my primary being quite medical minded, I laboured very well with number three, completely dilated by nightfall of the first day. Yet morning slowly dawned with no baby in my arms and tension so great in my pelvis I couldn't even void urine from the tension caused by pain. Many questions arose post-surgery and even during labour as to why my midwives didn't see that tension and counteract it... but nothing was done so I was brought to the hospital where my favourite nurse encouraged me to keep going. I declined and walked to surgery where all of my requests were granted, though I ended up with a great deal less blood thanks to an overly efficient obstetrician who certainly didn't have the virtue of patience.

Yet through those three failed experiences I now have three of my four most precious gifts from God. My faith has been renewed through the fire of these trials and the tribulation of my daughters pure birth. Without these experiences I would not have the many blessings I have today in all aspects of my life, including the experience of birth as God intended, within the folds of familial arms in the safety of our home.

My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life.
Psalm 119:50

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to His purpose.
Romans 8:28