After the birth of my last baby, I said something like,
"Whew. Now to return to some level of dignity."
The L&D nurse (who was amazing, by the way) got this look on
her face that I'll never forget. She started lecturing me about how dignified
childbirth is, how honored she is to attend women during that time, etc. I
don't remember her exact words, but the look on her face was: "THIS. THIS
is dignity."
I hadn't meant to insult her, but let's face it. No matter how
beautiful or spiritual the advent of new life, it's not exactly a state in
which you want to interview. There are no photographs that come out of that that
you'd want on a business card. My feelings afterward?
Pardon me for that.
The indignity of birth has been on my mind lately, as I look
toward another labor & delivery. It's all very shocking & inappropriate,
& I do wish somehow it didn't have to involve an entourage.
Besides the birth itself, there's the indignity of the number that this one
represents. (It's number 6.) Culturally, I have passed from unusual to insane. When they're all
clean, their clothes match, & their behavior is great, it's not too bad. I
mean, people gawk, but trying to turn in the grocery store IS like waiting
behind a duck crossing.
On the other hand. Well...they're NOT always on their best
behavior, & sometimes they pick out crazy clothes or I overlook a hole,
stain, dirty face. Oops. I usually notice all of this at once, while standing
in the check-out line, the checker's goggle eyes lacking any sympathy. He's
likely wondering why I brought a circus to the grocery store and not because he
wants to buy tickets. *sigh*
There's indignity to motherhood. We almost never look like those
Victorian pictures or Hallmark cards or even Other People's Christmas Cards.
You get puked on, pooped on, assumed to be a walking tissue/burp cloth. And I
don't mean at home.
So, yeah, given all that, here comes number six. Whee!
But this morning, in the middle of anticipating the
"dignity" of L&D, I heard the words of David to Michal when she
criticized his worship of the Lord:
"And I will be even more undignified than this, and will be humble in my
own sight." (2 Sam
6:22)
Before that, David clarifies—it
was before the Lord—that he danced and played his music. It was not FOR
Michal or anyone else watching.
And that's how I see this whole motherhood gig: it's an act of
worship, offered to the Lord, not to the checker at the grocery store or anyone
else observing—for good or ill.
To the goggle-eyed, I say: I will become even more undignified
than this! But in my heart? I'm praying, Lord,
help me. Because I'm not really quite as brave as David, and I’m pretty
sold on being dignified.