I have never given birth to a baby, but i just gave birth to a book. On this Saturday, I sit in the house cleaning, working out, and admiring my natural hair. Although I was able to stay busy, my spirit was unsettled and I began to feel a heaviness that in the past resulted in a defeating bout of depression and suicide, but this time was different. My church is currently on a 21 day fast and this is day 12, with each day the sensitivity of my spirit increases and my emotions force me to enter into prayer. Today I entered into prayer and i was laying on a hospital bed crying, moaning, groaning, and praying in the spirit. My mind began to take me down memory lane of some painful experiences that I endured in the past and with each memory flash I prayed and cried harder holding my stomach, crawling into a fetal position wondering if this would result in a trip to the ER proclaiming I had yet again gone crazy. This time was not like the others cause as i cried out, I cried for her and with her...I cried in amazement of how far she had come. I cried because she was able to carry full term with threats of infertility and death yet she and the baby were still here. She was still alive and her story survived...the both of them together.
Before the foundation of the earth it was spoken that she would be born and would give birth to her story. With each trimester of life her story became too heavy, it began to steal the nutrients needed for her to survive. There were moments when she drifted away but the story she was carrying would not let her die. This confused her as she felt the very thing trying to take her life would be the very thing that gave her life. This my dear is what you call a miracle says the Lord....ahh, ha she says.
Yes this time was different because as I laid on the hospital table crying, moaning, groaning, and praying in the spirit and the Spirit of the Lord was present. He stood at my bedside coaching me through breathing, comforting me and reminding me that those times before would be no more and that He was doing a new thing. He then left my bedside to prepare the tools needed for the birthing process. As He stood at the foot of the bed He gestured for me to push and I did. I pushed, I cried, I remembered my pain, I remember His promises, I remembered the times when I thought it was the end, I remembered it ALL. When the pushing was over He grabbed that in which I gave birth to and placed it securely on the metal rolling table He had prepared. He returned to the foot of the bed as I continued to cry looking over at what I had given birth to. Tears rolling down my face soaking the pillow while my moans lessened but did not cease. My moans then increased and I began to push again and what came out He said was 'afterbirth'. This was the final stage of the birthing process that needed to take place to complete the process before my body began to heal. This my dear marks the end of labor and delivery, He says. He then begins to clean up the mess made and proceeds to leave the room when I stop Him. I say: where are you going with my baby? He says, I am taking the baby to clean her off, watch over her, and keep her safe until you rest, heal, and are ready to go home. I will return her to you when the time is right, He says. I say: ok. I think: I have the best doctor in the world.
January 12, 2013 @app. 5:30pm
so funny...i had you on my vision board :).
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