tough don't rub off

My husband and I have a discussion the other day. Why does childbirth hurt so much? Why is it so painful? There must be a reason. And no, we don't think it has anything to do with Eve and an apple. 

When I look back at my life and think about the experiences that have been most painful, I realize it is these moments that have shaped me. Pain has given me strength. Pride. Perspective. Character. So if this is going to be the most painful experience of them all, just think about how much I'll gain from it. And I'm not even talking about the baby. I'm just talking about the experience of childbirth itself.

And the most painful of pain followed by the most joyful of joy?!?! What a ride. No roller coaster could beat that. 

Maybe the pain's purpose is to fully invest me. How could I endure all of that pain and then not love and care for that miracle more than I've ever loved or cared for anything before in my life. The pain makes sense to me. And I'm not scared of it. Don't get me wrong. I do respect that it's not for everybody. But believe it or not, I am actually looking forward to it.

A few years back I did a mountaineering trip in the High Sierra with Outward Bound. It was 22 days long and it was hard-core. We hiked over 100 miles and most of that was climbing straight up or climbing straight down. Everything about that trip was intense. I cried every day -- multiple times a day. The trip was a whole series of intense moments but there is one that has stuck with me all these years. 

We had been climbing a 13,000-footer and were close to reaching the summit. The last part of the climb was technical and we needed to be roped in. We basically had to climb the face of a cliff to reach the top of the mountain. And I got stuck. No matter what I did or how hard I tried, I just couldn't make my leg reach the next hold. It just wasn't possible. And every time I slipped, all of my weight would be caught in my left shoulder, which was the only part of me that felt securely connected to the mountain. The rest of me was a dangling useless mess. After 10 or 12 tries, my shoulder was completely pulled out of its socket. And there I was hanging off the top of a cliff -- exhausted beyond belief, pulsating with pain, crying my eyes out -- the final goal within my sight but out of my reach. I couldn't stand it. The instructor asked if I wanted to be let down. I remember that moment clearly. Do or die. Sink or swim. Now or never. 

To this day I don't know how it happened. But I made it to the summit of that mountain. I broke down sobbing and hugged the ground under me. I did it. I survived. 

Was I strong enough to achieve the impossible? Yes. I was. And what was my reward? An incredible view? The wind blowing in my face on the top of the world? A lunch of trail mix and crackers? A chunk of chocolate? 

Yes. But there was more. I took away with me a strength I never knew I had. I learned to trust myself -- the deepest part of my being -- even when my body appeared to be failing. And I discovered that pain is temporary. And what lies just on the other side is always worth it. 

We had a saying on that trip -- "tough don't rub off." It's a mantra I've spoken to myself a million times since. The pain goes away but the strength is yours to keep and use forever.

How does this relate to childbirth? Well, I don't know because I haven't experienced it yet. But I just have a feeling it might be like reaching the summit of that mountain. Only better.