After awhile, Eric stopped me and said he wanted to pray. Sweet. So, we prayed right there for our soon-to-be-born little girl, the delivery, the doctors, for Emma becoming a big sister and for NO PAIN.
I woke early on July 4th, took a shower, got ready and got in the car.
"Let's pray", Eric said. So, we did. Before we even backed out of the garage.
We prayed for our soon-to-be-born little girl, the delivery, the doctors, Emma and for no pain.
Okay, let's get to the hospital.
We parked across the street from labor and delivery and I got a little antsy. Rightfully so. It's always unnerving when reality sets in and you're about to give birth to an actual human being and yes, there will be lots of needles involved.
"Let's pray", Eric said. So, we did. Standing in the middle of the parking lot.
We prayed for our soon-to-be-born little girl, the delivery, the doctors, my anxiety, Emma and for (Lord, please!) no pain.
We checked into the hospital and were soon on our way to the labor and delivery room. My nurse handed me my new, sweet clothes (not) and told me to get ready. I looked at Eric and said nothing. Because saying stuff about the stuff you're feeling makes it all too real.
"Let's pray", Eric said. So, we did. Standing in the middle of the birthing room.
We prayed for our soon-to-be-born little girl, the delivery, the doctors, Emma, all the stuff I was not saying out loud and for no pain.
Done. Let's get (un)dressed.
I'm sitting comfortably in the bed and feeling pretty confident I'm going to skate through this birth a lot better than I did the first (I did, too, by the way, which wasn't really hard in comparison. When I was in labor with Emma, I was sure no other human had felt like that before and afterwards, I looked like I had been hit by a truck. THIS TIME, I had on lipstick and everything). Before family started coming in, Eric took his place in a chair beside me and got acquainted with the monitors.
"Let's pray", Eric said. (Okay, I may have rolled my eyes). But, we did.
We prayed for our soon-to-be-born little girl, the delivery, the doctors, Emma and all the stuff that was getting ready to take place ~ like the epidural which totally rocks, by the way ~ because that was God's answer to 'no pain'.
Epidural in .... we're ready to go.
(By the way, when I got my epidural when I was in labor with Emma, I cried and told the anesthesiologist I loved him. He smiled and said he SO wished he could perform epidurals in high school).
Anyway, family started coming in and everyone was chatting and having a great time. I'm getting pretty anxious and just really ready to get the show on the road.
In walks my pastor, who is also a good friend of ours and in between contractions, Eric leans down and whispers, "Honey, Dale is going to pray for us".
And, then I may have exploded.
Okay, yes, I totally exploded.
"For the love! Have we not prayed enough? I'm so sick of praying! I'm not praying anymore! Ya'll can pray but I.Am.Not!"
The room got eerily quiet and everyone was staring at me like I was new.
(I can always be counted on to be spiritual in tough situations. Oh, and I never freak out.)
But, PRAY, we did (geez! ~ rolling eyes).
I'm also told I was used as an example in a sermon that week .... like "how much prayer is too much" or something like that.
Anyway, I'm not sure what made me write about that today other than the fact that I am lately flooded with memories of things I thought I had long forgotten, yet God is reminding me, so he can teach me a few things.
Like trying to instill the importance of prayer in my girls.
Yes, we pray about everything. We pray in the car on the way to school. We pray when an ambulance or fire truck passes us on the road. We stop the car and pray if someone blurts out they've had a bad day. We pray over our food. We pray when someone gets hurt or is sick. We pray when we're afraid. We pray before we turn out the light to go to bed.
But, those are all times prompted by me. (Except I should add that Olivia's teacher text me the other day to tell me a little girl in her class had to go home early since she was sick. Olivia raised her hand and asked the teacher if the class could stop and pray for her friend. Not a bad day).
God nudged me a while back to have the girls keep their own individual prayer journals so they could pray specifically about things on their hearts. It's been a relatively easy habit to establish. They write in their journals before bed, after brushing their teeth and before Eric or I climb the stairs to tuck them in.
Such a small thing has led them to do other things that I'll write about later, but the irony of it all isn't lost on me.
I love that I can glance through Olivia's prayer journal and secretly thank God that she wasn't scarred by her Mama rolling her eyes at the thought of one more prayer on her behalf over seven years ago.
Just one more reminder that my kids are doing alright and will survive childhood relatively unscathed as I cling to Jesus in my sinful, ugly state.
God fills in the gaps, does he not?