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.