Golden Hour
Before becoming a mother, the only Golden Hour I knew of was the one that occurs shortly after sunrise and before sunset, when the light casts a warm, golden glow across everything it touches. It’s the perfect time of day to take photos if your goal is to look photogenic. There’s a Golden Hour in the baby world, too; though the scene captured is much messier and whole lot more magical.
Giving birth to Millie was inevitable, obviously. The dread of the painful, tiring process of labor gave way to feelings of dread as her due date inched closer. I wrote down some expectations of birth to help me gain some sense of control: no induction unless I made it to 41 weeks, a vaginal birth, delayed cord clamping, and avoiding a c-section at all costs. That seemed reasonable, right? To further solidify a sense of certainty, Austin and I decided to visit the hospital where I’d give birth.
I took in the scene as we walked with a group of other families through various rooms and hallways. Okay, so that’s the bed where I’ll be pushing. Now those are some seriously small pillows. Woah, Austin gets a pullout couch! That’s pretty cool. Our tour guide then delved into the details of the first 24 hours after birth. “Your baby is placed on your chest immediately after delivery. That’s what we call the Golden Hour. It’s great for bonding and breastfeeding outcomes.” I suddenly felt giddy. Now this is something to look forward to. The long hours of labor, pain, and even recovery paled in comparison to the sweet moment I would experience with my daughter. I walked out of the hospital doors with a newfound sense of anticipation of that magical moment of meeting Millie for the first time.
5 months later, I was sitting in my corner of the couch feeding Millie and scrolling social media. A video grabbed my attention. “I prayed for spontaneous labor. 2 hours before getting induced, my water broke. God is good!” I immediately turned off my phone and then threw it across the room. The tears I worked so hard to shut off months ago came flowing back. Then, I felt God ask me: Do you believe that I am good?
I sat with that question. Memories of Millie’s birth flooded my mind as did the feelings of defeat and sorrow. It was everything I didn’t want: an induction at 37 weeks pregnant due to high blood pressure and a very painful c-section after 20 hours of labor and 4 hours of pushing. But the most devastating part? No Golden Hour. I didn’t even get to hold my baby until 3 hours after giving birth. My body was beaten up and torn apart, as was my innermost being. It felt like I was stripped of all my dignity and hope and then left out to dry.
It was too painful. Before I could shut my feelings down or distract myself with something else, I felt God’s Spirit gently press me to stay there with Him. Where do you see My presence in the delivery room and in the moments thereafter?
It was as though Jesus then took me by the hand and revisited each moment with me, helping me see it through His eyes and reminding me of His presence, purpose, and care for me along the way.
He had implored other mothers in my life to text me words of encouragement, prayers, and scripture as I labored. He sent me nurses who fought for me and Millie, who guided me and supported me all five days we were there.
He placed generosity and kindness on the hearts of our community who brought meals for several weeks and gave us gift cards, and even had a pump dropped off on our front porch because mine hadn’t arrived yet.
Most of all, He ignited in Austin the confidence and love to fully step into his roles as husband and now father. Although my heart was shattered that I wasn't able to participate in several of Millie's firsts, her dad was. He was the first to hold her, feed her, and change her diaper. He cared for her when I couldn't, and he cared for me, too. Even though I was bleeding, swollen, and puffy, he still looked at me with the same love and affection in his eyes.
I felt my heart shift into a posture of awe and gratitude. In the quietness of that moment, I sensed Jesus speaking to my heart. Where can you go from My Spirit? Where can you flee from My presence? If you ascend to heaven, I am there. If you make your bed in Sheol, I am there too. I promised that I will never leave you or forsake you.
My eyes then settled on the sweet, rosy face of my beloved daughter, now asleep on my chest. Our connection didn’t hinge on that heavily anticipated Golden Hour. It would be forged in the countless moments that followed: the contact naps, the whispered prayers, the nursing sessions, the smiles, and all the ordinary moments in between. There would be more firsts to share and countless opportunities to grow together.
Yes, God is good indeed. Though I may never fully understand why everything unfolded the way it did, I rest in the truth that He has never left me and never will. His ways are perfect, rooted in steadfast love and faithfulness, and He is the One in whom I will always take refuge.
