This is a story with the happiest of endings. A beautiful
love story that must be written down: for happily after all it is unique, and
lovely, and mine.
For nearly a year my hubs and I had wanted to have one last
little baby. A girl to be specific. A little sister for Lily. As my 36th
birthday approached I realized that it was most likely not going to happen. I
spoke with Keith and told him that I was happy with our little brood, our 3
beautiful children and having a fourth was a lovely idea but I wasn’t
interested in keeping on after I turned 36. Besides, we were in the midst of
trying to sell our home and move cross country. The timing was terrible.
The day before my 36th birthday I woke up with a
nasty case of nausea. It didn’t stop. My suspicions grew, and although I
already knew in my heart, I had to sneak off to buy a pregnancy test. That same
day Keith’s new company in Utah called us to let us know we needed to prepare
to be there in 3-4 weeks so that he could start his job. I stuffed the test
under my bed and got busy doing other things, refusing to acknowledge that
these two things were coinciding. I was much too preoccupied with little ones,
the house, and preparing to move to be pregnant.
After days of a nagging feeling in the back of my mind I
decided to take the test on a Sunday morning. The positive sign appeared and I
sat back in shock. I was pregnant. This
was happening. At the same time my life was about to be thrown for a major
upheaval. It took me an entire day to accept it and when I finally told Keith
he sat back in shock. We were happy, but surprised to say the least.
As I look back on the timing of everything, my intense
nausea, my lethargy, and my pregnancy in general I can see tender mercies of
the Lord. But in the moments where I felt so weak and frustrated I’ll admit
that I didn’t want to go on. While I’m pregnant I barely function as a normal
human being for about 30 weeks. My gratitude is so full for my mother who took
time to come and care for me and my kids, helped us move, and brought us to her
home in Washington and then drove us back while I tried to just survive.
Keith was also a never-ending support during the pregnancy
too. The minute he walked in the door I would allow myself to finally collapse
and he took over. As my pregnancy progressed I noticed so many similarities to
Lily’s pregnancy: the rapid weight gain, the constant nausea, the headaches, the swelling of
my hands, feet, and face, the numb hands, and the depression. It was frustrating and exciting
all at once. I was certain I was having a girl.
The day of my first ultrasound the tech excitedly pointed to
two little balls of joy and declared it a boy. I’ll admit that I cried. I’ll
admit that Lily cried even more. I'll even admit that I asked them to check not once, but two more time to be sure on different occasions. And then I tuned it all out. The pain and
everything became so surreal, like I was living in someone else’s body. I
couldn’t put up with everything going on in my life, so I tuned it out and went into survival mode.
It was a dark time to be me.
After I hit 30 weeks I noticed that my swelling was intensifying.
I didn’t even care that I was gaining 3-5 pounds a week despite exercising and
eating relatively well. I wasn’t nauseous anymore. And that was a beautiful
relief.
After the dark months had passed and I started to feel a
little happier I realized that I NEEDED, and I wanted to connect with this
little boy. I desired with all my heart to feel love for him, to welcome him
into my family, and to fill my heart with joy that he would be coming. I prayed
unceasingly, asking for God to help me connect with this pregnancy after
spending so much time being depressed and overwhelmed. I prayed for peace and joy and I prayed
for both the baby and me to be filled with a deep connection that I had felt during all my other pregnancies, but missed
during this pregnancy.
For weeks I prayed for that connection. I would sit still
and feel his kicking and try and imagine his little face, kissing it, holding
him, but I still felt a void.
At 35 weeks pregnant I was driving my kids home from
gymnastics when we were rear ended at a stop light. I reminded myself to be calm, collected, and kind so that my kids would feel safe.
As I stepped out of the car I worried about the little life I was carrying, but
soon felt a little kick or two.
That night I didn’t sleep. He didn’t kick once. I sat as still as I could and tried to feel any kind of movement. It was one
of the worst nights of my entire life. I cried thinking I had lost him without
every really knowing him. That I had lost the opportunity to fill my heart with
love for a little one I would never know.
The following morning I drove to my midwife’s office. It was
the longest wait of my life to see if he was still alive. As the midwife
pressed the heart monitor to my bulging belly I heard a strong and steady
heartbeat and finally felt like I could breathe again. He was still alive!
She sent me to the hospital next door and set up a stress
test for me. As I lay on the bed and they hooked me up to all the monitors my
phone promptly died despite having 30% battery just minutes before. I had nothing to do but sit for hours and wait to see if
he was doing okay.
These hours of sitting there in the dark, listening to his
little heartbeat, and being so grateful he was still alive was an answer to my
prayers of longing. As I sat there in the quiet and stillness all of a sudden I
had this feeling of him in my arms, curled in a little newborn fetal ball, as I
held him and rocked him to sleep. I felt his little presence and felt a connection. He was mine. I knew God was giving me a gift. An answer to my pleas.
He was mine. He was mine. He was mine. And he was a gift.
The next few weeks flew by in a frenzy as I excitedly
prepared for his arrival. My back and neck were hurting from the car accident,
I wasn’t sleeping, but my excitement could not be contained. I was so grateful
he was going to be mine and I wanted to do everything in my power to make our house
and family ready to accept this little guy home.
My prayers had been answered. I had survived 39 of the most painful weeks of my life, but none of it mattered anymore because I knew his sweet little spirit was eager to come and he was soon to be in my arms.
To be continued…
