Everyone loves a good birth story, right? I know I love to hear them, anyway. I've been going back and forth on how I want to write about my oldest son, Emmett's birth. I wrote a post on Facebook a couple days after he was born (why was I not snuggling him and/or sleeping instead of writing a mini-novel?). When I read through it now, it makes me a little sad. Not because of how his birth went, although it took me quite a while to get over that sadness, but because of how I perceived the events and how very little I knew about the process back then.
I thought about rewriting it now, from a more knowledgeable perspective, and having reflected on it more than just a day or two. But then I decided not to. Parenthood, and life in general, is a journey. We never stop learning or changing. So I decided that I owe it to myself and our story to leave it exactly as I wrote it then, in all it's rawness and inaccuracy. We do the best we can with what we know at that time. I have learned an incredible amount about birth, life, and humility in the past four years, and I'm sure I will be able to say the same thing in another four years. His birth, that experience, and the many months after changed my life and who I was meant to be. I now see it as the blessing in disguise that it was. And with The Birth of My Kids: Our Story (Part 3), I will bring it all full circle.
Here it is, Emmett's birth story:
May 22, 2011 (originally posted)