In this part of my motherhood journey, I want to share a story that unfolded just hours after the beautiful birth of my tenth child. What began as a joyful and serene postpartum moment quickly turned into an unexpected ordeal that tested my faith, strength, and resilience. Through pain, uncertainty, and the power of prayer, I learned to trust in God’s plan, even when it took me far from the peaceful experience I had envisioned.
A Beautiful Beginning
After the birth of my tenth child, I was surrounded by love and support. My daughters and mother came in to help clean up alongside my husband, and I found myself in bed with my newborn son resting on my chest. It was a precious moment, filled with gratitude and joy. Despite some discomfort in my hips—something I had attributed to the usual postpartum aches—I was content, believing that everything was as it should be.
As daylight broke, I shared a lovely breakfast with my husband, gazing out the window and soaking in the beauty of the new day. We had thought about a lotus birth, and bought a beautiful bowl allowing the placenta to remain attached until we were ready to remove it in a special way and at the best time. For me this was when the children were awake and with us. The morning was filled with celebration as our other children joined us, marveling at their new baby brother. I had even prepared gifts for them in advance, sewing newborn like baby dolls and baby dinosaurs for the boys. and we rejoiced together in the blessings of life as we burned the placenta with beeswax candles and bought a special wooden box for the occasion.
The Onset of Pain
As the day went on, I started to feel an increasing discomfort in my hips, particularly my left hip. Initially, I brushed it off, thinking it was just the aftereffects of labor or perhaps sciatica. I had experienced similar pains during pregnancy, and I assumed it would pass with some rest. But as I moved to different positions, trying to find relief, the pain only intensified.
Eventually, I found myself unable to move without excruciating pain. My husband and daughter helped me to bed, hoping that lying down might bring some relief. But the pain continued to worsen, spreading from my hip to my glute, and soon I was unable to move at all I without experiencing severe cramping and discomfort.
The decision to seek help
As the pain became unbearable, my family grew increasingly concerned. We tried everything we could think of—any movement caused an excruciating cramp. My daughter, an EMT, suggested we call 911, but I was determined to wait until morning, hoping the pain would subside on its own.
When the slightest move on the bed brought pain and it was still unrelenting, we finally made the decision to call for help. Saying goodbye to my newborn son and being taken to the hospital was one of the hardest moments I’ve ever faced. Even though the pain was intense and I didn’t know how long I would be separated from my baby, I knew he was in good hands with my older daughters and mother.
A Long Night in the Hospital
At the hospital, the pain persisted despite the strongest pain medications they could offer. I underwent a series of tests, including x-rays and a CAT scan, all while enduring the agony of being moved and positioned for each procedure. The night was long, and I found myself in a strange room, surrounded by strangers, far from the peaceful home I had envisioned for my postpartum period.
A Cry for Help
In the early hours of the morning, as I lay in the hospital bed, separated from my newborn son, I cried out in despair. I hadn’t even had the chance to name my baby yet, and here I was, in excruciating pain, unsure of what was happening to my body. It was in this moment of deep vulnerability that I sought comfort in prayer. I asked God to guide me and to provide the strength I needed to endure this trial.
Almost immediately, the name “Declan” came to mind. I had never considered this name before I didn’t even know it was a name, but it resonated deeply with me. When I looked it up, I discovered that Declan is an Irish name meaning “man of prayer.” I asked God what his middle name should be and immediately I thought of Declan Josiah. Josiah also had significant meaning. Josiah was a king in the Bible who restored God’s word to His people, and the name means “God supports.” I knew that in naming my son Declan Josiah, I was acknowledging the divine support I desperately needed in that moment. I was moved to tears, feeling that God was speaking directly to me through this name. My son, was meant to be a man of prayer—a reflection of my own need for prayer and God’s support during this difficult time.
The Painful Road to Recovery
Despite the comfort of naming my son, the physical pain continued to dominate my experience. The doctors had me undergo more tests, including MRIs, to determine the cause of my excruciating hip and glute pain. I spent the next few days in the hospital, receiving pain medication and muscle relaxers, but nothing seemed to provide lasting relief. The tests showed inflammation of the SI joint, bursitis, and strained muscles.
It wasn’t until a physical therapist arrived and wrapped my hips tightly that I finally experienced a moment of relief. He said my hips looked rotated a bit. By compressing my hips, the therapist was able to reduce the intensity of the pain and help me stand up for the first time since being admitted. It was a small victory, but it gave me hope that I might be able to return home soon.
The Unexpected Diagnosis:
After returning home, I received a call from the infectious disease doctor who had reviewed my case. To my shock, I was diagnosed with a staph infection, likely contracted from the hospital IV site that had become inflamed and infected. The news was devastating. Not only was I dealing with the physical pain from my hips, but now I had to confront the reality of a serious infection that required immediate treatment
The doctor recommended that I return to the hospital for intravenous antibiotics to combat the infection. I was heartbroken. I had just returned home, and now I had to leave my family and my newborn son once again. But I knew that if I didn’t act quickly, the infection could worsen and put my health at even greater risk.
Finding Strength in Faith
Back at the hospital, I underwent another series of MRIs and was placed on a rigorous course of antibiotics. Slowly, the pain in my hip began to subside, and I started to feel the infection retreat. It was a slow and painful process, but I knew that God was with me every step of the way. I prayed constantly, asking for strength, healing, and the ability to return home to my family.
Finally, after days of treatment, I was cleared to go home once again. This time, I was more cautious, knowing that I needed to be vigilant about my recovery and continue my postpartum journey at home. The ride home was difficult, but I was filled with gratitude for the healing that had begun. I knew that I still had a long road ahead. It took two months in a wheel chair and consistent Physical therapy, but I was determined to trust in God’s plan and rely on the support of my family.
Never Alone
This journey has taught me so much—not only about the unpredictability of life, but about listening more closely to the body God designed so intentionally. I’ve learned the importance of paying attention to the signs during pregnancy, seeking support from a chiropractor when alignment matters, and leaning into the wisdom of a midwife when something feels off. I’ve come to understand how vital postpartum care truly is—belly binding, wrapping the hips, and allowing real rest after birth are not luxuries, they are part of healing.
At the same time, I’ve had to walk through the humbling realization that sometimes we don’t know what we don’t know. Even when we desire a natural path, it’s not always an option, and that doesn’t mean we’ve failed. It simply means we are learning. There is grace in that. There is growth in that. And there is space to forgive ourselves for the things we wish we had done differently.
Through it all, I still hold onto my faith. God meets us in both our strength and our weakness. He guides us gently forward, teaching us, restoring us, and reminding us that we are never alone.
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