Today is my first born son’s birthday.

And on any of my kids’ birthdays, before the cake batter is mixed, and the donkey is violated with aggressively aimed tails, and the once-a-year-candle-powered-wish is issued into the ether, I purposefully spend a minute or two reflecting on what their birth day was like. It’s hard to forget (though some try to!) the events that transpire in and around childbirth, but for such a momentous event, we rarely recollect it. I liken it to the car wreck that didn’t kill you, the bullet you took for a buddy, or the stew your kid made that you ate anyway ‘cause she was watching.

For the squeamish among you, fret not. We will not be going to gory, childbearing places. (But I dig that conversation, too. PM me.)

I’d like to say my memories of that day are sunshine and roses and “the best Christmas present ever” etc, etc. but the truth is – I had it all wrong. And I learned that day what helplessness really is.

I was obstinate about a few things:

1. No drugs. I was doing this old-school.
2. No formula. I was going to fuel this kid with super DHA, omega 3, immunity boosting, bone building mama’s milk from day one.
3. No doctors. No c-sections. It was going to be ancient midwifery practices and keep your scrubs at home.

 

 I got schooled.

 

1. After I-have-no-idea-how-many hours of labor, and three hours of pushing,  it was discovered that he was upside-down and would not come inside-out.
2. By the time I kindly asked (reality: loudly begged) for drugs, it was too late to administer them.
3. When my midwife looked at me and said, “I can’t do anything more, here” two things occurred to me:
   • First, if I didn’t live in a time and place where medical amenities are as abundant as they are, my child or I would’ve been added to a “maternal mortality” list.
   • Second, you do not care about the tidiness of your signature when signing consent for an emergency c-section.
4. When all was said and done, my body went into shock. There was no milk. Nothing would come. Here, I had this beautiful, ruddy baby, getting thinner before my eyes because I had nothing to give him. On day 3 of no milk, we had to start formula.

And I think about the moms who don’t have that option and resource. What do they do?

 

Sometimes, you WISH to give, and cannot.

The heart’s DESIRE to give, or be, or provide

cannot always override the body’s REFUSAL.

 

The memory of this helplessness stands out to me as something to remedy for someone, if I can.

So in honor of the day, to do something good in it, my son and I are donating funds to The Milk Bank, getting mother’s milk to fragile infants in the US, and to World Vision, helping moms in natural disasters and refugee routes have access to safe places to nurse.

AND! To sweeten the deal,
for every “like” or “share” on this post,
I’ll increase the donation $5, up to $100.

 

 

That’s a Happy Birthday.

Yay.