What is thy only comfort in life and in death?
That I, with body and soul, both in life and in death, am not my own, but belong to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ, who with His precious blood has fully satisfied for all my sins, and redeemed me from all the power of the devil; and so preserves me, that without the will of my Father in heaven not a hair can fall from my head; yea, that all things must work together for my salvation. Wherefore, by His Holy Spirit, He also assures me of eternal life, and makes me heartily willing and ready henceforth to live unto Him.

How many things are necessary for thee to know, that thou in this comfort mayest live and die happily?
Three things: first, the greatness of my sin and misery. Second, how I am redeemed from all my sins and misery. Third, how I am to be thankful to God for such redemption.

~ The Heidelberg Catechism

Being assured of the greatness of my sin and misery is no problem right now. It wasn’t too long ago that women were grateful to make it through childbirth alive; now we all just want to make it through without too much pain. Times have changed. The good news, if it can be called that (since the Apostle Paul tells us that dying is gain) is that I’m not going to die—at least not just yet. The bad news is that I feel like it.

I walked out of my midwife’s office this morning with a diagnosis—posterior baby. I use the term “diagnosis” knowing that it is a little dramatic, but I’m allowing it considering my condition. After reading on the subject, however, I’ve concluded that maybe my gloom is justified. Enter Eeyore.

As I processed what she was saying, I knew that the midwife was putting things in the best possible light. It’s kind of like the dentist saying that you’ll feel a “little pinch.” I read a lot on the subject of childbirth, but I tend to skim the subtopics that don’t apply to me: gestational diabetes, c-sections, RH compatibility, and now, posterior babies. All I could process initially was the (extensive) knowledge I had on the subject: posterior = bad, bad, bad.

I came home and told my husband the reason why things weren’t moving along and why they probably never would (he already knows how to sort out my hyperboles), and so he did what all responsible husbands do. He googled it. After a couple minutes of reading, he got up and left his laptop open. I stole a peek, to which he admonished, “Don’t read any of that stuff.”

“That stuff” that he was trying to protect me from was the following knowledge: Mothers of babies in the ‘posterior’ position are more likely to have long and painful labors, generally requiring increased use of interventions. The fact that posterior babies generally don’t engage means that it’s harder for labor to start naturally, so they are more likely to be ‘late’ or require an induction. “Braxton-Hicks contractions before labor starts may be especially painful [tell me about it], with lots of pressure on the bladder [no comment], as the baby tries to rotate while it is entering the pelvis.” Many homebirth sites stated the need to transfer the mother to the hospital for interventions, including but not limited to: forceps, vacuum, pain relief due to fatigue, and cesarean sections.

You know you’re in trouble when even the Natural Childbirth sites employ the phrase, “tremendous pain.”

Having had long, painful labors four times already when everything was going in my favor, frankly, pops my balloon. If I didn’t know better, you could have almost heard me say a few weeks ago, “I am woman; hear me roar.” (Kidding, folks.) I am ready. I am knowledgeable. I can do this. Now, I’m thinking about calling for a home health nurse to come put in the epidural now.

Sure, in labor, most all women have their moment of weakness. But they usually save it until the end. Being an overachiever, though, I like to get a head start on things. My husband calls me a “pessimist,” but I prefer to refer to myself as a “realist.”

Now, of course, it’s entirely possible that the baby could turn, but seeing as how he’s been comfy like this for several weeks now, I don’t hold much hope. Additionally, in my reading on the subject, I learned that there are ways to turn the baby. Holding your breath and crying for a bowl of Bing cherries isn’t one of them.

Now that it seems that my hopes for a more natural birth are dashed (there are other factors, like a positive Group B strep test), I rest in the fact that this pain I am in now cannot last forever. Because I am His, I have comfort now and ultimate comfort to come. Not to be trite, but what is my only comfort in life and in death (and in pain)? That I, with body and soul, both in life and in death, am not my own, but belong to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ.

I am His and He is mine! Yes, there are worse things than posterior babies. Like cancer, chronic pain, and watching your children suffer. But there is no worse tragedy than not belonging to Jesus Christ.

Now, if I can just hold on to this. Or else the shrinks will diagnose me with something else entirely.

Loved with everlasting love, led by grace that love to know;
Gracious Spirit from above, Thou hast taught me it is so!
O this full and perfect peace! O this transport all divine!
In a love which cannot cease, I am His, and He is mine.
In a love which cannot cease, I am His, and He is mine.

His forever, only His; Who the Lord and me shall part?
Ah, with what a rest of bliss Christ can fill the loving heart!
Heav’n and earth may fade and flee, firstborn light in gloom decline;
But while God and I shall be, I am His, and He is mine.
But while God and I shall be, I am His, and He is mine.