A Praying Midwife

She has a history of a short labor for her firstborn. She is contracting well. All seems well. I am expecting a large baby... a very large baby. My concerns were overruled by those more experienced. We labor together. Progress does not come as quickly as I expect. She is coping well. Baby is healthy. We work hard to make progress. No progress. It comes time to transfer. Transferring is a long process and the future, of course, is always unknown. I find one of her support people challenging and unhelpful... just saying. I believe the baby turned in the process of transporting due to the progress she began to make over the next few hours. I am hopeful for her. She has a chance for a natural birth still, in her midwife's opinion (that would be me). She makes very good progress, but unfortunately she has lost her will to fight. She decided to get an epidural and tells me she is sorry. I assure her she does not need to apologize. I do try to encourage her to continue forward without drugs since it was her desire and it does appear to be do-able. I don't always do this in a transfer. In fact, sometimes I make the suggestion. But, in her case it was reasonable. She refuses to find strength. Her contractions are somewhat maneageable still and such good progress- oh, I wish she would strenghten herself! As expected, things slow down after the procedure. I head off to nap for a couple of hours- it is the middle of the night and I have to be in the office the next morning. I am called two hours later by her husband to inform me she is ready to begin pushing. I sped to the hospital since her last birth was a short second stage. It was a beautiful dawn over the city as I drove to Shands. Out of breath, I arrived to be informed that she is laboring down and not actively pushing. Her medication is wearing off a bit. She spontaneously pushes with contractions. She starts asking for a cesarean... begging for one. She gave up all will to persevere at this point. Oh, woman, we are not called to be able. He does that for us. Just to not give up. It will happen. She is not a believer. I am tired. I just pray. I am doubtful for a vaginal birth at this point. With odds somewhat against her (suspected large baby), she has to at least want it. The hospital is busy. They give her more medication and the hours go by. Me at her side. Giving her "icee" :). Wiping her forehead. Telling her she is doing good and her baby will be worth it. Inside, I am frustrated. I am seldom frustrated at births. I am not frustrated that she felt like giving up. That is normal and a common emotinal landmark that the end is near. I am frustrated because she made the decision to give up instead of to persevere. So, I pray. I pray for a woman who doesn't pray. I pray instead of her and on behalf of her. Not for a vaginal birth. It is past that. I pray for her soul. I pray that He will reveal Himself to her. I thank Him for the opportunity to serve her and show her mercy. I pray for this family. I pray that His will be done and that He be glorified. I pray for His mercy. I yielded to His goodness and knowlege and sovereignty. The doctors finally came in to recommend a cesarean. I spoke up quickly that she was ready. She had given up four hours before- four hours of me standing by her side even though she wasn't trying anymore). I gave her a hug and kiss and told her that she was in good hands and I couldn't wait to meet her little one. 11 lbs 14 oz! We had a baby that same size the couple of weeks before... excpept that mother made progress. I am glad I know better than the temporary. I am glad He is the Redeemer. Off to work in the office for a few hours. So very glad for the weekend off call to ready myself for my "long week" ahead.