| It's Worth the Effort by Steffany Barton Although I had been numbed from the waist down, I was still aware of the overwhelming feelings of fear and nervous anticipation. The doctor worked expediently to retrieve the little soul who, for the past eight months, shared my body. I followed my breath as I waited for my baby to take her first. Despite the fact that I had not yet met her, my daughter had already taught me so much. Before becoming pregnant, I viewed my body as a nuisance, something to be controlled. Like too many women in this culture, I obsessed with diet and exercise, often letting my self-worth be dictated by a number on the scale. On several occasions, I took the pursuit of thinness too far, and my body suffered gravely. Yet, I continued to push until the fateful summer day when I learned that I was pregnant. From that moment on, I agreed to take on the responsibility for another life, and I would not fail. Despite the ever-increasing number on the scale, I began to learn about the wonderment of my body. This vehicle that I had so loathed was capable of the most amazing thing: creating another human being. I grew to love my bulging belly and my full hips. I enjoyed watching my face fill out a little. Food started to taste better than I previously remembered. I relaxed about my appearance, and even started to see myself as being a bit sexy. Over the course of my pregnancy, I learned what it means to truly be a woman. It is about gestating and nurturing. Whether it is an infant or an idea, as women, we are the givers of life; we grow in our bellies the seeds of creation. Femininity is not achieving a certain dress size. It is a divine mission to mother the planet. My teacher, this child, would bring many more lessons. As the pregnancy progressed, things began to take a turn. At my 34-week check-up, the doctor showed some concern. The baby's measurements appeared to be going backwards. Complications had arisen, and the baby was compromised. Because she was in breech position, a C-section would be needed immediately. Further, because she would be six weeks early, her lungs would not be fully developed and intensive care could be warranted. I felt numb. So as I lay on the operating room table, I prayed for my child's safe entry into the world. Suddenly I noticed a shift in the energy of the room, and someone exclaimed, "Here she comes!" I awaited her cry. I knew that if she could wail, she could breathe. The sound of chiming monitors filled the room. My head swam. Then from behind the curtain, I heard first a whimper, then a squall, then a scream. This little girl announced her presence with a powerful cry. Staff members from the intensive care nursery descended upon her. As the surgeon continued to work, I heard much discussion and concern. She weighed only four pounds. A nurse approached me to tell me that the baby was having a difficult time breathing, and that she would need a little extra help. Over the next few weeks, that help would entail a ventilator, an IV and a feeding tube. I saw her briefly as they whisked her off to the unit. Completely helpless, I asked the angels to surround her on my behalf. I assured myself that she would be all right in no time. I could not hold her. I could not nurse her. The next day when I finally did see her, she was so covered in wires and tubing that I could barely find a section of skin to stroke. Monitors blared at me as I approached her. The ventilator spit at me. Cords and plugs entangled me. I wanted nothing more that to snatch her up and return home. Oftentimes I would sit beside her incubator and cry. When words failed me, I would softly sing lullabies to my tiny angel. But no matter what crisis arose I stayed at her side. I learned so much over the next few weeks. I surrendered control and put my trust in God and in her caretakers. I asked for the help of friends and family in taking care of my duties. I learned that instead of turning away from things that are difficult, I must face them with courage, for in the midst of such cold and alien technology lay the love of my life. This is true of so many things in life. It is often the ugliest situations that bring to us the most beautiful gifts. If we bury our heads in the sand when challenges arise, which I could have done for those weeks, we miss the opportunity to stretch our spirits. When we insist on control, we limit our growth. In the first short few weeks of her life, my daughter taught me many of the lessons I will instill in her. I will show her what it truly means to be a woman. I'll guide her through challenges that seem insurmountable but are opportunities to grow. By balancing science and faith, I will show her that miracles occur each and every day. I will teach her what it means to love, to be vulnerable, and to be strong. Just as I am a model for her, she will be my mirror in each moment. Through her eyes, I will see how far I've come and where I still need to grow. My words, thoughts, and attitudes will shape her and be shaped by her. In this way, we prepare one another for the future. My prayer is that I teach her with as much grace, confidence, and clarity as she has me. Steffany Barton is a clairvoyant/clairaudient Certified AngelTherapy Practitioner and Reiki Master who holds a degree in Nursing. She has been personally trained by Doreen Virtue, Ph.D., and works with the angelic and spirit realms on a full time basis. She can be reached for appointment at (913) 451-4567 or email at Steffany@angelsinsight.com Copyright © 2003 Steffany Barton |
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