Tears slipped down my cheek as I cuddled our one-day-old third-born child—a handsome baby boy.

I couldn't believe that I was finally holding my baby, but that's not why I was crying. I was frustrated that one of my birth preferences had not been followed. Most things on my list of birth preferences were important contributions to the health and well being of my baby and me. But my tears were over a truly inconsequential preference. I had even cheerfully told the supportive medical staff that it wasn't important and it didn't matter. Nonetheless, my tears were in fact bitter tears, because my idea of the "perfect birth" was "ruined."

In a moment when my heart should have swelled with unobstructed joy that our child was born, I sulked. In a moment when my eyes should have looked to heaven in wonder that God would be so gracious to me, I wept angrily. My will had not been done, and that bugged me.

"It didn't happen like I …," I started to say. Then I recognized the gentle tugging of conviction on my heart.

Just like other idols in my heart, my idol of the "perfect birth" did not just provoke me to feel sorry for myself. It robbed me of the time I could have spent enjoying the Lord, my greatest treasure, and the good gifts he has given me. Having my primary joy be in Christ through the gift of childbirth has always been a struggle for me.

As Rachel Marie Stone recently noted at Her.meneutics, using a midwife has not only become a status symbol, it also has many benefits to respond to American society's increased medicalization of birth. Two of my three children were born overseas where the options for birth are different. A few examples are that planned homebirths are illegal here and midwives attend all hospital births. ...

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